Queen of Frost, King of Flames

by IVIaedhros

Limstella x Eliwood: Sometimes even our hate can bring us comfort.

This was originally just a chapter in To Sink a Ship, but through various means, it mutated far out of proportion. While I'd definitely recommend reading TSaS, especially if you enjoy cracked pairings, knowledge of it is in no way required to understand and this. Oh, and please review. We authors thrive on your feedback. Page hits really are kinda worthless. Let us know you care!

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By the time Eliwood had scrambled halfway up the hill, he was too nerveless, too blinded by stinging sweat and hot blood to feel anything when a thousand little crystals swept into him like so many needles. Pherae's august prince nearly blacked out as the freezing shrapnel drove into the soft flesh of his face. The trembling little corner of the prince's mind that still grasped at sanity was screaming in horror to stop, to fall down witless and shield his eyes from the surrounding horrors and why was he still going forward?! Eliwood could vaguely see old general Marcus yelling at him, but the sound didn't seem to carry. He felt that even if a fleet of dragons should descend and roar, the noise would be lost in the din.

A new pain in his throat alerted Eliwood to the fact that he was screaming again as he clashed with one of Nergal's faceless minions. They hacked and clawed at each other like the beasts they'd become until the foot soldier opened himself to get off a slash at the red haired man's leg. Hot mist erupted from above his knee, but it didn't matter; now he had an opening. Lunging forward, Eliwood latched onto his attacker with his free hand and struck at his jaw with the other, shattering the bone on the hard steel of the hand guard. Locked in embrace, he brought his hilt to man's skull. The warrior dropped like a lead weight, nearly pulling the prince down with him as he clutched Eliwood's cape in a death grip. In a desperate frenzy, Eliwood began stabbing the man with his rapier. When this failed to free him, he reversed his sword and carved his cape in two. Gasping like a landed fish, Eliwood continued his mad scramble up the hill slope drenched in the rain and blood. Another freezing shock wave slammed into his chest, dropping him to his knees like a sinner before the throne of judgment..

Wrenching his bleeding eyes upward, he caught sight of the top of the hill. At it's peak stood a vision usually reserved for the ravings of madmen and the tales of little children: the grey silhouette of a women amidst the ragged corpses of the newly dead, chanting in a voice as high and as cold as the supernatural blizzard which she conjured. This was Limstella, Nergal's masterwork. Around her raged white energies swirling as the morph engaged the shaman Canas with Fimbulvetr, the Mourning Frost. For a brief moment, it seemed as if the very earth beneath Eliwood's feet would collapse, torn apart by the dissonance of their competing voices. It didn't last however; Limstella's eyes blazed an unearthly gold and Canas was literally lifted off his feet by an icy blast. Suddenly, Eliwood found himself on the receiving end of her deadly gaze. He could only stand, already frozen as he felt rather than saw a cruel smile. Ice magic began to dance above her upraised hand as she readied herself to take his life.

Goodbye, mortal fool.

Just as Eliwood raised his hand in a futile effort to ward off his death, the living weapon let out a shriek of pain and the deadly ice dropped uselessly to the ground. Flashes of light were exploding around the unnatural being as a new voice joined the wind, strong and deep. Up the hill ran the towering bishop Renault, tome in one hand and a massive sword in the other. "Eliwood, run!" Impossibly, the elder man's furious shout managed to reach the stumbling prince.

Limstella's aureate eyes flared silent as she turned to counter him. The meeting of their respective energies sent turf and combatants flying in every direction as the bishop struggled to ward off the morph's superior magic while getting close enough to use his sword. In an instant, Eliwood understood: Renault could not beat Limstella. He was offering himself up as a sacrifice to save Eliwood and buy time for the other warriors to close in and destroy the unholy creature. Eliwood snarled. Unacceptable.

Forcing his frost stiffened legs to move, the prince half ran, half fell up the slick hill slope. The two combatants were getting closer. Ah, Renault had fallen to a knee! All conscious thought burned away as Eliwood raced up the hill, falling to all fours. His legs were screaming, his lungs burning, he couldn't breath! Limstella stood over the bishop, an impossibly long shard of ice held like a lance to thrust into his neck. Closer, closer!

Limstella felt it as an unexpected inability to manipulate her body. Against her will, her thoughts began to fade into nothingness. "So this…this is…sorrow."

Eliwood seemingly regained consciousness to find himself standing behind Limstella, his sword neatly impaling her through the gut. A dark crimson that could only be blood began to trickle down his blade. Curious, that it might bleed. With a sharp twist, Eliwood wrenched his sword from the creature's body and began to stagger forward.

"My lord, where do you think you're going? My lord!" Eliwood waved the concerned bishop away as if he were trying to swat a fly. "I'm fine, your grace. I'm…" Eliwood passed out.

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Oblivion had previously been unknown to Limstella. Following the moment Nergal breathed life into her, the morph had never known a moment's unconsciousness. Her mind processed thoughts and information faster any human could ever imagine and her body had no need of anything so mundane as sleep. Thus, it was extremely disconcerting for her to slowly rise from the haze of unconsciousness.

"You are awake." Limstella turned an expressionless face to see a regal man dressed in a clergyman's robes. She knew him.

"You are the traitor Renault, a mercenary, the former harvester of quintessence and one of the original creators of the morphs." The man's face darkened as her soft, emotionless voice told of his old crimes.

"I am no longer any of those things, creature. Long ago, I forsook your master. Now I am simply a man of the cloth who has vowed to assist those who fight Nergal." His own eyes never left Limstella's as he spoke. The two remained casually alert, either capable of springing into action in an instant.

"I killed you." Of course she'd killed Renault, for how could Limstella have failed her master who had created her to be perfect in everyway, who had said that with the power he had given her, she was undefeatable?

"You almost killed me, snake, but instead you ended up with Lord Eliwood's rapier poking through your belly." A flash of some sensation; was that pain she had felt? Limstella had failed Nergal, her master, her god, her very reason for being. She no longer had reason to exist, but yet she still existed. WHY?

For the first time in her unnatural life, Limstella truly felt: absolute rage and panic, with panic rising to choke her like smoke. Her eyes flashed. Renault tensed. Quicker than thought, Limstella's hand lashed out; worthless insect!

Without a word, Limstella's claw-like hand was poised trembling hardly a leaf's width from the bishop's throat. But, it didn't go any further. The bishop continued to calmly eye the morph as her face rapidly shifted from a blank slate to enraged frustration.

"I am your master now morph. From this day forward you will have a new purpose, but first, sleep." The words had scarcely left his mouth when Limstella collapsed limply into his arms. Renault gently set her back down onto the sleeping roll before rubbing his face with a hand. He was completely exhausted.

"There is much to be done."

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"…up"

Someone was shaking him. Why were they shaking him when all he wanted to do was sleep?

"My lord," more with the shaking, "my lord, please, you need to get up."

Eliwood grunted and levered himself up off the ground and regretted it instantly. He became acutely aware of just how hard the ground was that he had been sleeping on. Without a word to whoever had awakened him, Pherae's newly fatherless marquess began throwing on his armament.

Peripherally aware that someone was still talking to him, Eliwood tried focus in on the words. It didn't work. Still too groggy to care, Eliwood made responsive grunts at what seemed to be the appropriate times as he mechanically went through the motions of equipping himself and following the shadow of his companion out of the tent.

"…see you: something about that new bishop or something. He sounded kind of urgent." Kind of urgent, huh? Eliwood wondered what the difference was between urgent and kind of urgent and if the difference was enough to warrant waking him up. Why, he was a marquess! Surely they couldn't be bothered by anything less than the fate of the known world! Oh, right…that's kind of what they were dealing with, wasn't it?

Eliwood felt a very strong urge to giggle. Thankfully, he was awake enough to stiff it. He was also awake enough to identify the voice speaking to him.

"Right over there m'lord, oh, and try and watch your step." It was Sain, still fresh as ever. Perhaps the knight's somewhat odd behavior helped him deal with odd hours. Eliwood surrendered to a giggle as he thought of himself carousing in the villages around the castle. His mother would have a conniption fit.

"I doubt this will last." Mark's calm voice instantly brought him to full wakefulness. Eliwood blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, the tactician's ice chip eyes coming into focus. The man was just scary and…and…

"What in the seven hells is she doing here?!" There, laid out like a corpse on one of the cots, was Limstella.

"This," Mark casually gestured down towards the comatose morph, "is the reason why I want to talk to you."

A thousand protests clamored to be shouted out at the graying man, but Eliwood held his tongue. Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the central pole and waited for the explanation. Mark obliged him by not wasting any time.

"After you were evacuated from the field where you had your little encounter," Eliwood winced; "little encounter" indeed, "Renault took it into his hands to preserve Nergal's toy." Mark's normally passive face pulled into something like a smirk at Eliwood's obvious shock.

"Isn't amazing what talents people hide? But no matter: Renault is a trustworthy man." Eliwood frowned in displeasure at the extremely sparse explanation of just how a bishop of St. Elimine had learned so much about Nergal's morphs. It was extremely suspicious, but as before, he was forced into the dark with only Mark's good faith as his lifeline.

He hated it.

"So…" Eliwood said, trying to get back on topic, "I take it that we'll be able to control her somehow? Because otherwise I don't see how this could be anything, but suicide."

Mark smiled in the half-light as he turned to fully regard Eliwood, "Oh yes, if Renault asked her to walk off a cliff, she would have no choice, but to walk off a cliff." Eliwood couldn't help, but grimaced at that image. The idea of free will being so completely subverted was abhorrent to him.

"I'm sure she'll make an excellent addition to our front line," Eliwood said, keeping his voice as flat as possible.

"Unfortunately not," responded Mark. Eliwood's face revealed the obvious question so Mark elaborated, "Nergal is still her original creator and Renault freely admits that he could reassert control whenever he wishes. Thus, our best option is to simply keep her comatose until our most desperate need."

Eliwood still did not like the idea, but it was better than any of the alternatives.

"Once the good bishop has wiped her mind of any personality and pre-"

"Wait, what do you mean wipe her mind of personality?" Mark blinked slightly in confusion before returning his face to its usual mask of a friendly old man.

"It's quite simple. Nergal created her with the capacity for self in order to make her more efficient. He never had to worry about rebellion because besides the obvious instinctual obedience to commands, Limstella was created to worship Nergal as a god. I would also be willing to bet quite a lot of money that he has a way of easily disabling her."

"I don't want Limstella's mind erased," Eliwood interjected.

It was the first time since Eliwood had known the tactician that the man looked well and truly surprised. Eliwood would have savored the experience if it didn't herald more difficulty for him.

With one graying eyebrow quirked, Mark asked why Eliwood would want something so potentially dangerous as Limstella maintaining a sense of self.

"Because it's wrong and, like you said, it would make her less efficient, less innovative."

Mark held Eliwood under his gaze before glancing back at the still unconscious Limstella. For several long moments, the older man simply did not speak as his marvelous intellect went about its work. At last, he looked back up at his midnight guest.

"Very well, though you will be the one responsible for her." Eliwood found himself on familiar, but hated ground as Mark neatly turned the tables and reclaimed any initiative he might have had. More importantly though, why?

Mark answered before he even had a chance to ask, "You are royalty and one of only three capable of wielding one of the legendary weapons and of three you are the one I trust most to think with your head."

"But-"

"Do not worry. Once this conflict is over, you will be able to rid yourself of the creature…" Mark paused to once again clinically scrutinize the unconscious morph, "one way or another."

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Eliwood stood quietly by the guardrails of Fargus' ship, lost in contemplation. The red haired lordling wasn't the only silent one. Members of their band wandered about the decks aimlessly, like lost spirits. Even the pirates were quiet, seeing in the haunted faces of their passengers the need to let some things well enough alone.

It was strange, this self-imposed silence. Beyond all of their wildest hopes, they had won. Fighting in hellish conditions and always against superior numbers, they had defeated the most powerful sorcerer in known history and slain a dragon. Each of them had proven their mettle a hundred times over and the bonds of friendship and trust that had been forged through their crucible would last lifetimes. They had won and yet…

"Eliwood," a small, pleading voice threatened to shatter his calm façade. Eliwood fought the urge to pretend he hadn't heard the plea. "What is it, Nino?" The emerald haired girl never said a word, only tried to press herself closer into his tunic. Eliwood sighed and absently rubbed her shoulder as he continued to look out at the grey sea with vacant eyes.

Yes, they had won, but oh, the price. The noble merchant Merlinus was the first, his throat slit as he lay asleep. The luckless Fiora followed him shortly after when her pegasus was alarmed by flying through smoke sparked by mages. They'd been easy prey for the archers after that. Then came Hawkeye, dying of a gut wound before the healers could make their way to him, Vaida, with a lightning spell blowing the wing off her wyvern and Pent, skull crushed by a berserker.

And then, then that final, terrible battle when Mark had bluntly told them that it was either a direct assault on Nergal's temple or damn everything they knew to destruction. And so they did the only the only thing they could do: they abandoned all their wondrous tactics and maneuvers and rushed headlong into the swarm of revenants. They had lost so many: Lyn, Jaffar, Matthew, Mark, Isadora, Harken, Renault, Wallace, Sain, Lowen, Guy, Serra, the list went on and on. They were sailing home with barely half of those who had originally come and many of those who lived were maimed to various degrees. It was as if the reaper had decided to make up for several month's wages in a week.

Eliwood felt so sick that he could collapse to his knees at any moment, but he didn't, because he was a marquess, now the marquess and a marquess just didn't do that. There was a soft roar as another wave broadsided the ship, sending white foam shooting up over the railing onto his face. Eliwood's blinked as the green water beaded down his skin and into cloths. "Oh Ninian, why did you go?" The red haired man felt an involuntary stab of anger.

"Is something wrong, Master?" Nino's head nearly hit his chin as she leapt like a pheasant flushed from its den by the huntsman's dogs. The hot ember of anger sitting in his gut blazed to life at the sound of that hated voice. Eliwood responded only with silence, not wishing to give her the satisfaction (if she were capable of such a thing) of knowing how badly she discomfited him.

Eliwood did his best to concentrate on the almost rhythmic way the waves made the ship rise and fall, counting the swelling like did with his own breath when sleep eluded him. Tensing, Eliwood grabbed the ship's railing with the hand not softly rubbing Nino's frail shoulders. He clenched his hand as hard as he could, almost welcoming the pain as splinters drove through even his leather gloves and pierced his still raw hands. Eliwood wondered idly if his hands would ever recover from the abuse of wielding Durandal in that final massacre. Massacre…Eliwood could of think of no better word.

"Master, this is pointless." The emotionless voice was like the southerly wind over his shoulder: a bitter reminder of all he'd lost.

"Leave." Eliwood found that was all he could trust himself to say without giving into his desire to turn around and eviscerate the abomination.

With a brief nod, the morph pivoted on her heel and walked past several very spooked sailors and down the hatch where she promptly dissolved into the darkness without a trace. Eliwood grimaced.

"Why didn't you kill her?" Eliwood looked down at the young mage, surprised by the edge in her voice, and his expression softened. Since when did Nino have it in her to hate? The prince pursed his lips.

He suddenly felt very tired and it would be so long before he rested.

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Feelings of any sort were not something that Limstella was familiar with. But as her new master quietly read over and signed the seemingly endless papers his high counselor handed him, she became aware of something that, regrettably, was becoming an increasing familiarity: irritation. Everyday without fail, Eliwood would sit at the same massive oaken desk and view the same useless complaints from the same idiotic cattle that he ruled over.

The shadows slowly faded as the morning sun climbed higher into the sky, revealing the numerous motes of dust that slowly floated through the spacious room like so many leaves. It was as such times when the hours blended together in one large morass of meaninglessness that she wished Eliwood had simply killed her or allowed Renault to completely erase her self-conscious. As she thought of traitor who had been responsible for her downfall, Limstella felt something; a brief emotion that might have been anger.

"The only reason you are still alive is because of the priest," Limstella said as her thoughts flowed seamlessly into words.

Eliwood looked up from the request for a smaller tax rate fish monger's guild had submitted. His blue eyes were all puzzlement as he regarded his involuntary servant over interlaced fingers and he wondered not for the first time why Limstella was acting so…he wouldn't quite say irrational, but it seemed to be the only thing that fit.

"You're right Limstella," Eliwood murmured "I wouldn't be alive today if Renault hadn't been willing to sacrifice himself for my life." Carefully, he maintained eye contact; azure to amber. It was getting much easier now that he was becoming acquainted with her inhuman gaze.

After what seemed an eternity, Limstella simply turned away from him and walked back to the corner she had been occupying and, after a bit more staring, Eliwood returned to his papers. Eliwood's idiotic need to rule those weaker than himself by some sort of moral code was maddening. Limstella's eyes narrowed in anger. But then, the one time he'd chosen what might be the most expedient path to greater power and security and Limstella could only feel even more discontent.

While Limstella stood musing over the anger she did not know how to deal with, Eliwood obliviously plowed back into his paperwork. The harsh scratch of quill to paper was soporific and it wasn't long before his mind had relaxed back into the comfortable half-haze of administrative work. Compared to the past weeks, the day seemed mercifully light as the decisions that needed to be made were largely unimportant and obvious, allowing his mind to wander freely over more enjoyable topics as he scanned through the latest projected aid needs for the north-eastern regions.

Unfortunately, the inevitable bad news came that required his whole attention. Eliwood massaged his temples as he read the reports concerning various outbreaks of consumption in south. That would need to be taken care of immediately or else many more could suffer as the malignancy spread over the trade routes. Normally they would have called upon the Church to deal with such things, but Etruria had recently suffered from a series of horrible pestilences itself and there was little that could be spared for any of the Lycian cantons. Eliwood spent the better part of two hours going back and forth between various advisors before he was ready to give up in frustration. He simply could not focus his thought anymore.

Excusing himself from the now full room of various court advisors and one non-human, Eliwood began the long walk that would take him from his study to the courtyards. Perhaps a walk would help him find the appropriate solution.

"M'lord," Eliwood's mind snapped out of its reverie and to the passing soldier who had given him the salute: General Marcus. Feeling the impulsive desire for company, Eliwood asked, "Marcus, would you take a walk with me?"

"Of course my lord," Eliwood's oldest and most loyal supporter said, promptly executing a rear march and falling into step behind him. They walked in silence as Marcus waited for his lord to speak to him. They had made it out of to the trailheads of the royal hunting grounds when Eliwood finally felt confident enough to speak. He was about to ask for the general's opinion on the recent outbreaks of infection, when something else unbidden popped into his mind. Eliwood looked back to find Marcus stationary and looking expectantly at him.

"What is it, Marcus?" He asked.

"I'm sorry. You looked as if you were about to say something." If the general was perplexed by his odd behavior, he did nothing to betray it.

"Yes, I…" Eliwood paused and tried one more time to clear the cobwebs that seemed to have suddenly appeared in his mind, "I'm very worried Marcus." The elder man regarded Eliwood silently as he waited for his lord to continue.

"Marcus…am I a good ruler? I know I'm not as competent as my f-" Marcus cut in before his liege was able to continue any further. It was a testament to the trust and camaraderie that the two shared that Eliwood was able to speak thus and Marcus able to interrupt.

"My lord…" Marcus gave a baleful shake of the head, "with respect, where are you getting this utter nonsense?" The old general looked down at the man he had watched over since childhood, had seen through the hell of Valor and Lord Elbert's death, "This isn't the first time I've heard you privately express such sentiments."

Eliwood back up to Marcus, his gaze steady despite the stern upbraiding. "I'm simply being logical. My father was older, more experienced; it's only natural that I wouldn't be as good a ruler as him. I'm trying my best Marcus, but no matter what I do, it seems as if Pherae is falling apart around my feet."

For a moment, Marcus simply stared emptily before he responded, "My lord, I don't know what you're talking about," his expression softened slightly, "Pherae continues to prosper. These pestilences are a regular occurrence that we planned against ahead of time…Eliwood," Marcus took the younger man by his shoulders and waited until they were looking one another in the eye again, "you are as a fine a ruler as any could ask for."

Eliwood was staring intently at a nearby tree, but Marcus felt the need to continue, his voice softening even further, while somehow becoming that much clearer, "I have never felt prouder in my life than when I look at what you have gone through and yet see the man you've become…and I know your father feels the same."

Eliwood continued to stare emptily at the nearby tree, no doubt having already memorized its details. Frustrated, Marcus could only suggest that Eliwood take some time off to do something he enjoyed, something physical to help relieve the stress brought on by his newly adopted duties. Wordlessly, Eliwood complied and began walking away. Marcus did not follow and Eliwood did not seem to care.

"The boy is running himself into the ground," the knight said wearily. Eliwood simply expected too much of himself. Even after the trauma he and the country had endured, he continued to push himself at a ruthless pace for fear of failure. Marcus would have little problem with this if it weren't for the fact that Eliwood had clearly reached the point where he was doing more harm than good. The marquess had not learned to delegate his authority properly and thus micromanaged too much, burning out himself, alienating important advisors and creating more opportunities for mistakes.

As Marcus began his journey back towards the main castle grounds, he reflected that it was likely Eliwood still felt weighted down by the events that took place two years ago, culminating in that final horror on Valor.

"Horror? Yes, that would be appropriate," he mused to himself. Marcus was a veteran of many campaigns and, truthfully, the majority of the road battles against Nergal should have been relatively minor, "should have been" being the key words. Mark, malignant genius that he was, kept them constantly on the move. They no sooner bedded down than when the next day's journey began until each day blurred together into one long corridor. While casualties were miraculously light, nonexistent until the end, it had been terribly draining to be constantly running and fighting.

That they had held together despite it all was a testament to not only Mark's incomparable ability, but the bonds that were forged. As was usual, nations and causes stopped mattering after a while and the individual's only concern became fighting so that the one to their left and to their right were still alive. This was normal in any good army, but the men and women of the so called "Eliwood's Elite" had taken it far beyond anything Marcus had ever seen. It was almost scary sometimes just how much even he, the jaded old man, would trust his old companions. Perhaps it had been fate.

This, more than anything else, was what made that final assault so terrible. With the few deaths before the final battle, they had simply ignored them and continued on in denial. They were still together. No one would die; they were invincible because somehow each time they came within a razor's edge of death and lived, they became even more confident. When all those lives were ripped away in the final bloodbath, it felt like a piece of him had died. It was completely illogical, but it was true. Marcus had no doubt that Eliwood felt it even more intensely than he did.

"Commander Auras, I wish to speak with you." Surprised to be addressed by his surname, Marcus looked up from his reverie to notice Limstella standing motionless next to a nearby oak.

"What?" He asked with a scowl. With the deaths of both Renault and Mark, custody of the morph had fallen to Eliwood. Apparently the enigmatic tactician and the equally mysterious bishop had bound Limstella by a magical seal to Eliwood. His orders were her will, his life was her life. Marcus had listened as Eliwood had explained the situation to him to the best of his abilities, but he still did not comprehend the marquess' choice to allow Nergal's creation complete free will minus a set of orders that prevented her from causing harm to anyone outside of Eliwood's orders.

"I wish to speak with you," she repeated as if he had not understood the first time through. Marcus scowled again.

For two weeks, the morph had simply stood as a statue in one of the castle rooms until one morning, when Marcus was advising Eliwood on some acquisition of military supplies, she had walked through the door, past a gaggle of startled counselors and stated coldly that she wished to be an advisor.

"Why," Eliwood had asked.

"Because I continue to exist while my purpose is dead and the command to follow you was the last I received. I have determined that that the role of advisor is the most expedient way of assisting you."

To Marcus' horror and the everlasting chagrin of Elbert's old advisors, Eliwood had accepted her offer. Though Marcus never trusted her, he begrudgingly admitted that her advice was always sound, at least if what one was looking for was logical and self-serving.

"What do you want to talk about?" Marcus continued his walk towards the castle as Limstella moved weightlessly beside him. Limstella disturbed him in many ways, not the least of which was she was beginning to develop something of a personality. An emotionless machine was unnerving, but manageable in the way a double-edged sword was. So long as Eliwood used her properly, there was little danger, though Marcus would have argued about how properly she had been used. Unfortunately, the morph seemed to be on her way to becoming a two-edged sword with a mind of its own. How long before a seemingly clear cut order was twisted, before one of them met with some sort of "misfortune"?

"Eliwood has been becoming more and more distraught lately. It is weakening him and I believe that if it continues, he will be opened up to the aims of his enemies, Raedclyieff and Danes among others."

Marcus nodded gravely, impressed as always by her perception. Limstella was sometimes shockingly blind to the realities of living amongst humans that she wasn't able to kill, but at other times she exhibited an extraordinary vision into the minds of others, particularly when it dealt with hostile intent.

"Yes, Valor and the loss of his father hurt him badly…as did Ninian's decision," mentally, Marcus cursed the dragon girl's choice. He bore no ill will towards either sibling, but she had left Eliwood when he had needed her most. Elbert's death killed his past and the combination of his friend's deaths and Ninian's departure seemed to have done the same for his future.

"The pressures of rule certainly aren't helping either," Marcus sighed and mirrored Eliwood's now trademarked gesture of rubbing his temples, "I wish that he were married. A wife would do him well."

"That is unlikely." If Marcus didn't know better, he would have said Limstella was displeased. "Why is that?" He asked, careful to leave as little as possible to the imagination.

"His engagement to the Lady Carmella of Bern's House Steiner hasn't made any noticeable difference. If anything, he seems even more distracted."

"En-engaged?" Marcus fairly spluttered. Carmella's parents had been angling to marry into Lycian royalty for several years. Marcus had been under the impression that the idea had never been seriously entertained. Obviously, he had been wrong.

"Why hasn't he said anything and how did you find out?" His tone was rapidly shifting from surprise to outrage at the idea of Limstella taking it up herself to spy into his master's intimate affairs.

If Marcus was shocked before by her depth of knowledge, then he was positively astounded at that her newest revelation, "He plans to announce his marriage in two weeks, by which time it will be too late to stop. Eliwood believes that the marriage is the right thing to do, that it would help Pherae and perhaps him as well."

"As for your question, I confronted him when I discovered the first letter between himself and Carmella," Limstella said, continuing on almost as if she were talking to herself, "He simply told me that it was for the best."

"…"

"I disagreed with him."

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Pherae had peculiar a scent all to its own; the smell of elyssiums and wet grass underlined by the almost intangible freshness of mountain air from the Carcinieness. As Farina banked her pegasus into a lazy spiral over Castle Pherae, she swore that you could live off such air. It was better nourishment for a pegasus knight than any food or drink. Below her, Murphy snorted.

"Yea, you're right Murph': a really good beer is still the best thing out there, but this comes in close second." Farina felt like laughing so she did exactly that. "Ye gods, it feels good to be back in civilization!"

Murphy neighed again in delight as Farina nosed him to a near vertical dive only to pull up right before the duo impacted the ground. The two were a finely honed team, nearly symbiotic in the trust and dependence they shared with one another.

"Stay out of trouble now Murph' and don't give anyone too much fuss. If I hear ya' making trouble, you'll be living without carrots for a month. We wouldn't want that now would we?" The blue haired knight fondly patted her mount's nose as a pair of royal handlers came forward to take Murphy back towards the few pegasus stables that Pherae possessed.

After giving the handlers a few friendly words and cautions over her beloved pegasus, Farina made her way from the stables towards the castle itself. Two whistled songs later and she was waltzing through the castle's hallowed halls, casually glancing at paintings of long-dead monarchs and their spawn. One in particular caught her eye. It was a portrait of the Eliwood's maternal grandfather.

"…haha, clearly the Lady Eleanor got her looks from her mother…by the beard of Athos, what a nose!" Farina was enjoying Lord Darien's over-sized nose so much that she didn't notice the dark haired woman walking silently up behind her.

"You're supposed to be in the dinning hall." Farina nearly fell over as she spun around to find Limstella standing quietly behind her. Farina inwardly cursed the morph's ability to move around so silently. She had hoped that Eliwood would have gotten rid of the human facsimile.

"Please follow me." After a quick inner debate, Farina tacitly complied with the request and fell into step behind Limstella. The silent artifice quickly lead her down Castle Pherae's halls towards the main throne room. Regardless of their speed, the walk was a long one and Farina was practically dying to ask the silent creature what was going on. Despite the vast distances and differences in lifestyles, the surviving members of "Eliwood's Elite" did try to stay connected with one another's lives. Mostly this meant the odd letter or meeting every few years, but among some of them, there was more in the way of communication.

Farina herself was in permanent contract to Caelin's beloved Steward and former Knights Commander, Sir Kent of Loire. She routinely spoke with the Steward as well as Hector, Kent's ultimate superior, and Sirs Oswin, along with Etruria's Mage General, Lord Erk and his wife, the Lady Louise. Thus it was that Farina knew about the pregnancy before just about anyone outside of the Pherae Estate (and quite a few in) and she was absolutely dying to know more about the new heir, even he or she was still a ways off.

Unfortunately for the money loving quasi-mercenary, Eliwood was not to be joining her. Pherae's ruler had been delayed by some fierce weather to the south and would be at least a day late. This was not entirely unanticipated as it was the season for such storms. No sooner had Farina arrived than she had been informed of the delay and that she would be well cared for until his lordship returned. As usual, the service was prompt and utterly professional with no amenity spared for Lord Eliwood's former sister in arms. However, the state of things was not quite as perfect as it could be as she had succeeded in royally pissing off the castle's head servant master during her last visit when she had inadvertently set fire to a priceless pair of curtains from Mille Anair. Much as he might wish to, the master knew that Eliwood would frown upon him lacing Farina's customary whiskey with arsenic. Not to be thwarted, he managed the next best thing: Limstella.

And so it was that Farina found herself dining alone with Eliwood's infamous morph servant. To say that conversation was awkward would not true. There simply wasn't any conversation. For the next quarter of an hour, the wayward Pegasus knight did her best to eat her superbly prepared chestnut bisque. While excellent, the soup couldn't distract her from the fact that there was a morph glaring at her from over her dinner plate. Well, maybe not glaring since that would have implied some sort of emotion, but Limstella sure did look like she was glaring. Like a glaring statue.

Given that idea, Farina calmly took one of the many small square wafers of crisped bread that lined her plate and stood it on the table with her index finger. As Nergal's former killing machine looked on, Farina flicked the bread forward into a high arch that sent it flying at the morph's forehead. For a second, Farina thought she'd just sit there and let it hit her like the freak statue she was pretending to be, but at the last moment, the morph brought her hand up and caught the piece of food in between her fingers.

Without sparing the bread another glance, Limstella stared back at Farina and tonelessly inquired, "Why did you do that?"

After shrugging back slightly, Farina slouched back deeply into her chair and languidly stretched.

"Because I'm bored," Farina replied, her head cocked to the side as she continued to study the stoic Limstella.

"Hn."

Obviously Limstella was not amused. Seconds turned into minutes as the two continued to stare at one another. Limstella remained perfectly still while Farina became increasingly fidgety. Eventually, she could take it no more.

"Soooo…I hear Carmella's pretty hawt," Farina stated coyly, "Apparently, she's got a great ass even with the kid, or that's what one of the courtiers said when he thought I wasn't listening."

Limstella kept staring, somehow managing to appear even more nonresponsive. Farina contemplated flicking another piece of food at the morph. Instead, she knocked back the rest of the wine and reached for her hip flask. It was going to be another one of those nights…

As the third watch of the night quietly began and Farina sat in a drunken sleep, Limstella quietly pondered the irony of the situation. Visitors had been streaming from all over Lycia to congratulate the marquess on his new child. Men had watched with dread as the Lord Elbert disappeared, followed by his son and feared that the chaos that had engulfed Caelin would be had in Pherae. Thus, the impending birth was greatly anticipated for the promise it represented. Was it not ironic then that Pherae's heir would not be of Eliwood's blood and the line would die without anyone being the wiser?

"What…is…it Limstella?" The lord managed to gasp out as his legs struggled to stop his momentum. He had been running in full war gear again, one of the activities which he often indulged in to keep his human form from weakening. It was something Eliwood had been doing at an alarming rate the past few months, much to the consternation of his advisors who couldn't seem to get him to sit still for their endless meetings.

"You know about your wife."

Eliwood looked perplexed before responding, "Of course I know!" He broke out into a wide smile that was entirely too bright before laughing. "How could a father not know about his own child?" Even if Limstella had had prior knowledge of Carmella's infidelity, she would have known he was lying. How could she not when she spent all of her days watching and listening as the court lied to one another's faces, watching Eliwood as he spoke and fought endlessly for the people he insisted on caring about?

"You know about her affair with her guard Emanuel Dulsonne." Eliwood grimaced and nodded curtly, but did not respond. "You know and yet you've done absolutely nothing. Tell me, do you take pleasure knowing your father's line will most likely die with you? Do you enjoy the knowledge that every time you make love to your wife, every time you hold her, or kiss her, it's really him she's imagining?"

Limstella could not see Eliwood's face, but she imagined his eyes to be closed, his teeth clenched and his lips ever so slightly curled. It was the face he had worn when he had run her through with his rapier.

"I see you've been working on your speech."With that, he shook himself and took off running again at a greater speed than even before.

Limstella frowned. It had been and continued to be her goal to learn more about the nuances of speech in order to more successfully work within their societies. Often, she had experimented in debating with Eliwood, using every form of flattery, insult and trickery she could come up. This had not been an experiment. Vaguely, she wondered at her own pleasure in his anger.

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"Run that way daddy,that way!" The dark haired girl yanked hard on Eliwood's red mane hard to the left as more children darted, squealing. Eliwood complied as best he could, cutting left and sprinting after the younglings who still could not quite manage the speed to escape despite Eliwood's having a noisy little girl bouncing on his shoulders.

The Lady Carmella sighed as she watched little Sophie play with Eliwood. Despite the lack of any blood connection, the two seemed to be cut from the same cloth. They could and often did sit for hours with nothing, but the other's company. The sight of the two together never failed to bring a pang from her heart as she considered that the girl would likely never know her blood father. The girl wasn't even really hers. She was Eliwood's. Carmella sighed again. Still, she supposed she should be grateful considering how things could have gone.

When Eliwood had first discovered her and Emmanuel on of their trysts, he had been furious. The lord of Pherae had gone to surprise his soon-to-be bride before their wedding and been told by the servants that she was out on one of her many rides through the forests. She had been in the woods indeed, but only to see her lover Emmanuel before the marriage. They had lain together for what seemed an eternity, lost in one another's eyes and daring to dream that they would be able to see one another after her marriage.

It was not to last though. By fate's choice and Eliwood's own acquired skills at tracking did he stumble upon the two as they lay together near a stream. For a moment, Carmella had been afraid for her life and that of Emmanuel as Eliwood had stood over the two, pale with fury and the legendary Durandal unsheathed. She had begged him for mercy to which he had replied, "Why, so every time you are with me you may imagine him, so that you will continue on your trysts while I am made a mockery and the kingdom of Pherae disintegrates in scandal?"

In the end, it was not hers, but Emannuel's pleadings that saved them. He had begged Eliwood to take his life, but spare Carmella and her honor. "Have you never known true love for which you would throw all away?" He pleaded, for once throwing away the brash courage which had won him her initial affection, "I know you did not enter into this marriage agreement with my lady because you loved her, though you were prepared to do so."

If it was possible, Eliwood had turned even paler and his grip on Durandal tightened. After several, tortuously long seconds he simply turned around and walked away so fast that he fairly ran. Four anxious days later and Carmella had received an invitation to dine with Eliwood along with the thinly veiled hint to bring Emmanuel. Convinced that Eliwood would kill Emmanuel, Carmella had begged him not to go with her. In the end, however, the two had gone together and resigned themselves to whatever fate Pherae's ruler meted out. They could not have been more surprised.

"Please, take your seats."

Hesitantly and with the utmost courtesy, the pair did so. The wrought iron and glass that made up the chairs made it very uncomfortable to sit still. Eliwood did not waste time with idle chat, instead he went straight for the point as soon as the servants had left them.

"Neither one of you will be harmed in any way. Also, arrangements have been made for you to see one another as often as can be allowed without revealing anything."

After a stunned silence, the two responded, "Thank you, my lord," each echoing the other in their appreciation of his mercy. Eliwood casually waved both of them off, seemingly uncaring either way. He then looked at Carmella and spoke to her directly, his once warm eyes gone cold.

"I will give my word that I will not ill treat either you or yours, however, in return, you will still marry me. You will also give me the first child you have to be my own."

Carmella's confusion and trepidation were evident on her face. The thought of giving herself to Eliwood when she clearly did not love him made her feel ill. And what of the child? Bartering children sounded like something out of an old witch's tale and why the child of Emmanuel when Eliwood would have his own to serve as heirs? Emmanuel had similar feelings, but he was not nearly so intimidated by the lord. It was him that asked their shared questions and it was to him that Eliwood addressed his answer.

"Carmella will marry me because my throne needs the legitimacy and stability that marriage with a noble house provides. As for the child, I…I will not be having any children of my own and therefore will need one to serve as my heir."

"But…but my lord, how…?"

Eliwood's eyes lost some of their inscrutability as a trace of the anger from by the stream crept back in. "Did you expect me to share you with him? No, I am no adulterer, which is exactly what we would be committing. You will be Carmella Dulsonne in all, but name. Now, if you will excuse me, my commanders are expecting me."

That had nearly six years ago. For the first year, Carmella had lived in fear that the farce would somehow fall apart. There seemed too many holes: could the servants not read their lack of love on their faces? Did the maids not gossip about her long tours of the country? How could anyone mistake Sophie for the child of someone other than her dear Emmanuel? The fear had lessened as the years passed. She could only assume that it was a combination of Eliwood's influence and the lurid fornications so common in other noble houses that kept anyone from challenging their arrangement.

A slight chill fell over her, but she knew from long experience that it was not her thoughts. "Can I get you anything to get my lady? The chef wished me to inform you that he had prepared a batch of your favorite berry tea." Carmella hadn't needed the flat voice to tell her that it was Limstella who hovered over her like one of Illia's ice sculptures brought to life.

"No, thank you though, Limstella," a fairly typical conversation, all things considered. To Carmella's agitation, Eliwood's inhuman servant did not disappear soundlessly from her side as she was wont to do. Although it dug at her pride, Carmella could never shake the initial sense of intimidation that she had around Limstella. Eliwood no longer threatened her because of the air gentle humanity he cultivated and because of continuing affirmation through deeds that he cared about the welfare of his wayward bride and her lover. Indeed, the longer she lived, the more he seemed to amaze her with the fact that someone as kind and just as him could exist in a place of high power. Limstella, however, had done nothing save act the part of the servant. The problem was she knew far too much. She knew too much and she was entirely above persuasion, seeming only to be controllable by Eliwood and, to her surprise, by the priest, Lucius. Carmella was convinced that there was almost nothing that Eliwood did not tell the morph and what he did not tell, she was sure Limstella found out anyway.

"Is there something bothering you?" Carmella flinched slightly before regaining her old composure. The transition was almost flawless, but even so, she knew Limstella had not been fooled. What the morph made of it though…

"How long do you think this will last?" Carmella found herself asking.

Limstella just stared at her, in what she took as an invitation to continue.

"This life that we're all living…" she gestured in a vague circle as if to encompass everything they knew, "eventually, it all has to come apart and what then?"

Limstella's response was not long coming. That Sophia was not Eliwood's child was Pherae's best known secret. What was not known at all outside of Limstella and those immediately involved was that Sophia was not the child of Eliwood and a mistress, but rather his wife and another. She, too, viewed disaster as inevitable and planned for it as best she could. What frustrated the morph was that Eliwood hadn't simply taken a leaf out of his compatriot's books and either killed off the adulterous bride or had one of his own whelps.

"It is difficult to make any true predications, but the most likely course of actions would be that a noble, jealous of Eliwood's power, would seek to usurp him and use his lack of any true blood heir as leverage against him with the people and in the court of Ostia. As for yourself and Emmanuel, you would be secluded away, exiled to a comfortable life in anonymity, while Eliwood would stay in Pherae fight to hold on to power with Sophia."

"You really care about Eliwood don't you?" She had no idea what made her say it, save maybe nearly a decade of forced observation.

"…the fool would let himself be destroyed."

"…"

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"You're getting faster." A spike of solid ice easily large enough to impale Sophia sailed through the space that she had occupied only moments before. If she wasn't so terrified, she would have been delighted at receiving the rare compliment from the morph. Knowing that the spell had been cast, she immediately sprinted towards Limstella with her rapier at the ready. She managed to lunge at her inhuman teacher before a deceptively delicate hand caught her wrist. The next thing she knew, she had been tossed through the air like one of her old rag dolls and slammed down onto the ground. Pherae's first and only princess could feel the wind getting knocked out of her and instantly saw stars.

"I really don't get why I have to do this while dad gets away with sitting in his room all day," Sophia groused, though it didn't come out nearly so clear. Too much air had been crushed from her.

Not that she could really complain. Eliwood had wanted her to learn how to defend herself and she had taken to the initial lessons far too enthusiastically for her own good. Sophia was a natural swordsman, far surpassing even her father in potential despite her sex. On the condition that she would be a diligent in her lessons in rule and etiquette, Sophia was allowed regular lessons in various methods of fighting by the best instructors in the country and a few from outside. They had without exception been hard, demanding task master, but they all paled in comparison to Limstella. Her family's inhuman servant was less an instructor than she was an exercise; a very beautiful, very strong exercise.

"Your father is the ruler of an entire country. As such, he does not have time to spend on the exercises that you go through." Ever the dutiful servant, Limstella offered Sophia her hand, which Sophia took along with the proffered vulnerary. She downed it quickly. She most definitely did not want to suffer the after-effects of that throw.

"Hey 'stella," she said in a bright, girly tone that almost seemed to annoy the morph, "guess what."

"Is that a command?" Limstella asked in a voice as perfectly flat as ever. It was a routine that she and Sophia had together or rather one that Sophia had with Limstella.

"I kissed the page boy Aaron Michealson today. He was very shocked and kept babbling like an idiot. He turned absolutely dead white!" Limstella looked over at her with a humorless stare. It was just one more part of their routine that Sophia had forcibly established, much to Limstella's puzzlement.

"Be very careful princess. Such dalliances can have unintended repercussions later on. If nothing else, your father will be angry that you endangered someone else's safety and your own honor on such a whim."

"Pffft, he'd just be angry 'cause his 'little princess' was snogging a guy who was 'beneath her'. I know how these things go 'stella."

"Then I also must say, be very careful whom you tie yourself to. It's a dangerous thing, handing control over your fate to another, however little you give."

Sophia snorted, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with serious turn in the conversation. "Heh, you would be the one to know that, wouldn't you?" Sophia disliked that her "friend" was, when all pretenses were dropped, an absolute slave with no choice, but to be around her. It was depressing because Limstella probably was the closest thing she had to a confidant outside of her father.

"You never got a choice, did you?"

As Sophia walked away, eager to make lunch time before all of the raspberry jam was eaten, she missed Limstella's last, whispered words.

"No, dear princess, I was given a choice that I did not deserve and I gave myself back willingly."

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As Eliwood lay shivering on the sparse mattress of what would probably be his death bed, he started laughing. It struck him that he was probably already mad from the fever, but he didn't particularly care.

"Perhaps some men choose insanity simply because it hurts-hnnh!" Eliwood winced as another spasm in abdominals knocked what little wind there was out of him. "Hehe, because it hurts less than reality."

"Perhaps that is so," Eliwood winced again as the fragile, wooden doors closing him off from the rest world opened and burned his dulled eyes with the summer's intense light, "but that path is only for cowards and weaklings."

Eliwood shuddered again and faintly sensed a wave of heat pass over his body. "Well, let's see, I'm feeling pretty weak right now, eheheheh…ohh, raw gods." He could feel his bowels clinch in a vice grip as if they were trying to claw their way out of his body. From the hushed conversations he'd heard when his caretakers thought he was unconscious; it was actually a possible that one might blow their guts out their rear end, so to speak. Eliwood laughed, though tears went down his face at the same time.

" Elimine, I'm a mess…hehe, why do you put up with me anymore, hmm?" He might have seemed to speak in jest, but Eliwood turned his head towards where he knew Limstella was to see her reaction. Though he'd needed to maintain a strong front for his daughter and subjects, Eliwood's sickness did far more than destroy him physically. It had eaten away at him spiritually, gnawing at him until his reserves of courage, dignity and control were worn away to tattered threads.

"Because you need care," Limstella never had been much of one for comfort.

Whatever virulent strain of the flux it was, it had struck without warning, coming as suddenly as a thief in the night. One night he had quietly been celebrating the birth of Sophia's second child with Prince Raleigh of Ostia then it seemed he blinked and it all dissolved. Before he knew it, the marquess had lost over thirty pounds and spent his days lying in his own excrement.

Though they did their best to hide it, Eliwood knew that others shunned him and recoiled in his presence. How could they not, when in the presence of so much filth? Every time they looked at him, their filth and frailty stared back at them. How could they forget these things when in his presence? The answer was they could not. So, it was because of this and the fear of contaminating others that he had locked himself in a small, but comfortably airy shack in the castle woods. And then, he waited.

Eliwood opened his eyes again as Limstella sat down on the bed, next to shoulder. In her hand, she had a steaming bowl of broth. The very thought of it made him nauseous. Slowly, he motioned that he did not want it. Limstella set the spoon back into the bowl as her face creased slightly.

"Eliwood, you must eat. It is a simple as that. If your body doesn't get at least the minimal amount of nutrition, you won't be able to recover." Eliwood felt a bit bleak as he contemplated what she said. Life was always reduced to simple arithmetic with her when it was anything, but simple.

"Eliwood," she continued, "why have you given up?"

When he did not respond she continued, "You're still dying when you should be growing healthier by the day, you cry when you should laugh and laugh when you should be crying and none of its real." The liquid amber of her eyes seemed to shine as Limstella's pupils widened to almost unnatural dimensions.

"You are dying and nothing I do is working!" The morph surged forward, her eyes lit with a fury that Eliwood had thought her incapable of possessing. In an instant, the Marquess of Pherae found himself dangled by the collar over his bed as if he were nothing more than a child's toy. The temperature in the room dropped so quickly that he almost gasped. Instead, he laughed.

"Hehehe…heheheh…"

It was a harsh, staggering laugh that reminded Eliwood of the death rattle. It seemed fitting. Strangely, the second laugh seemed to arrest Limstella far more effectively than his futile protests or physical struggles ever did.

"Why have you given up? I didn't think you were capable of it." Limstella's tone had returned to glacial neutrality. But not her eyes…

"There is nothing left for me to do," he replied, a desiccated grin plastered on his face, though his eyes never showed an ounce of mirth.

"You are the ruler of an entire country, surely there is still much to be done," Limstella rejoined.

"Nothing that is not being accomplished by my steward or that cannot be done by Hector."

"Your allies need you in the court of Lycia and in negotiations, especially with Bern's recent posturing."

"Once again, nothing that Hector and the others cannot handle just as easily without me…and what does it matter to the common man? One noble or the other, we'll all the same: just different tax collectors."

"Your daughter..."

"Sophia has proven time and again that she is not only capable of living without my help, but that she craves absolute independence." Eliwood would have laughed again, genuinely, if he had dared. He was beating Limstella with her own blasted logic and she knew it. All those years he'd wanted to get one over her and he'd finally done it. How tragically pathetic did you get?

"That does not mean she does not want you."

Eliwood's reply was brutally honest, "That's true, but we both know that we've grown apart despite my efforts. She lives only a week's journey away, but it might as well be a month. She has a husband, two young children and an entire nation. She doesn't mean it…Elimine knows I understand how consuming these things can be…" he paused again to draw a trembling breath before continuing, still calm and serenely implacable as ever as he pronounced his own redundancy, "at least, I know about the child and the nation."

The torpid air seemed to grow thicker until it was like a blanket covering them. Eliwood no longer had even the energy to cough. He was so weary. Idly, he thanked Elimine for this strange rest from suffering. It was as if the putrid surroundings of his sick home were slow nepenthe, stealing away at his old sorrows and memories.

"In short, my dear Limstella, I'm just really tired and I feel like I've earned the right to indulge myself a little. People will grieve, especially Sophia, but their grief will pass. In this instance, I will choose the 'selfish' path, if you can really call it that." With that said, Eliwood closed his eyes for what he meant to be the last time for the day or maybe the week, perhaps his life. He had thought Limstella gone when he suddenly noticed a difficulty in breathing and an uneven pressure over his mouth.

Limstella was kissing him. Awkwardly and without a trace of the lifeless perfection that characterized her. The raw need shocked him and he felt something break within him. With heaviness in his arms, he drew his strangest servant into his embrace even as he unwillingly began returning her kisses.

He didn't know how long it lasted, but when it was over, he could feel tears in his eyes and a hot, tearing pain.

"Why?"

The marble splendor of Limstella's face was truly cracked for the first time in her life. Eliwood could only imagine what he looked like, wasted skeletally thing, pale and hair unnaturally graying.

"Because I need you, I have nothing else…I do not want another master," came her with uncharacteristic gracelessness.

Eliwood's face twisted painfully. "I have not been your master for a long time Limstella."

Her reply came in an instant, "You could never stop. You own too much of me."

"Is that all this is," he asked with voice cracking from the disease and his own tears, "the need of a slave?"

"No, I…I look at you and...I…I see home. I believe…I love you."

"Do you even know what love is Limstella? Are you even capable of feeling it?" The words seemed cruel even to him, but they were said not with malice, but only with a weary desperation.

"…Lucius once told me that love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves…" Here she paused and gathered her thoughts. Though she was more uncertain than he had ever seen her, she still didn't fidget. "These things I have done and experienced to the extent of my abilities. Is that not love?"

Eliwood had never been noted for extraordinary powers of perception, but this one thing he did catch, "I notice that almost nothing involves you feeling anything towards me." Eliwood couldn't be certain, but he could've sworn that she bit her lip. He fervently hated distressing her as he was, but he knew he wasn't strong enough to love an automaton, however convincing. It would only be a sick, hollow imitation of the real thing and he rot away from the inside.

"Is thirst not something felt? Does it not drive away everything else form the mind until that is all you are?" Eliwood had no answer to this. And so they remained where they were, neither having the answer to the questions of the other.

Am I constraining love to youth's romance? Am I not being hypocritical? Who since our creation has ever truly been able to put love into words?

Eliwood was so deep in his thoughts that Limstella almost walked out of the door before he noticed her. In that instant, he was forced to make a decision. Did he allow himself to accept that he'd had a good life and given everything, that he could let go of life's ledge? Or did he cling to her and keep living?

"Limstella, wait…"

She turned around in the doorway, light framing her silhouette. Eliwood could feel the warm, scented air of summer wafting gently over him, quickening his lungs and his mind. It felt indescribably good even as his dark accustomed eyes burned and his stomach painfully lurched with returned life.

"If you don't mind…" Eliwood took a deep breath, "I'd like to have some that broth now."

A/N

-Well, that was…something. I shifted style so many times that I've almost lost count. This thing spun itself waaaay out of control and evolved it something almost completely different than the crack pairing drabble that I originally imagined for To Sink a Ship. Heck, originally it was supposed to be a quick ErkxLimstella match-up. Eleven thousand, two hundred something words later…while I'm not satisfied with it, I hope you enjoyed the time spent reading and leave a review. After all how else and am I supposed to improve?

-The disease that Eliwood has, the flux, is known as dysentery. It's a severe form of diarrhea with a variety of causes, usually bacterial.