Author's Note: This story is an original AU one-shot that occurs shortly after the death of Lavitz in Hellena. It basically formed from a bunch of 'what if's', like "What if Lavitz had had a girlfriend? What would she have done at the news of his death? What if King Albert hadn't been there to accept responsibility as a dragoon?" So what I did is create two or three OCs, place them in the story and see where it went. The story actually never went anywhere, but I'm in love with this scene and felt I had to post it. Let me know what you think by reviewing, please! A brief description of each OC follows.

Summer Chelton: Main character in this one-shot, Lavitz's long-term girlfriend, Autumn's baby sister.

Autumn Chelton: Summer's older sister, King Albert's fiance. She accompanies Dart & crew on the journey to Hoax and is present at Lavitz's death.

Thrace Chelton: Summer & Autumn's father; one of King Albert's advisors. His son, Bradley, is an advisor-in-training.

Without further adieu, enjoy!


The tears fell. They would never stop. Like raindrops from her eyes in a never-ending torrential downpour. She thought they'd end, that eventually her tear ducts would dry up, but no sooner would the tears cease flowing that the pain returned ... and again, she would cry.

She had awoken suddenly, just as the first glimpses of dawn were peeking over the mountains on the horizon. Though the light was dim, she had seen it. Clearly. An apparition of Lavitz, standing above her, bent at the waist as if to lean in for a kiss. She felt a cool breeze rush over her, refreshing her from the inside out, it seemed. The semblance before her smiled serenely as she opened her eyes.

"L, Lav ... Lavitz?" Summer blinked the sleep from her eyes, her spirits lifting with the thought of her beloved back home in her company.

"Shh ..." He stroked her hair and leaned down, his mouth next to her ear. "I love you, my beautiful Summer ... I love you. Remember. Always remember."

And before Summer could rub the bleariness of sleep away, Lavitz was gone. Confused and unnerved, she rolled out of bed, sure she had been dreaming a moment ago. She went about her day, but little could shake the uneasiness in Summer's heart.

But even the apparition, still pressing heavily upon her consciousness, did not compare to the omen in the king's eyes when he came to her apartment in the castle late in the afternoon, four days later.

"Can I help you, Your Highness?" Summer asked, offering her usual perfunctory curtsy. But even teasing her sister's fiancé lacked its familiar appeal.

Albert smiled weakly. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

Summer finished drying her hands on the dishtowel she held. "Of course. What about?"

Summer regarded her future brother-in-law, but all he managed to do was offer her another forced smile. Wearily, they trudged into her living area, both of them weak from days of worry. Albert seated himself awkwardly on the edge of the armchair, his hands clasped before him and his head bowed as if in silent prayer. Summer watched silently from where she sat on the couch across from him.

"Summer, I'm not quite sure how to tell you this-" the king began, his voice wavering, but sweet.

He looked up, straight into her eyes and for a moment she was terribly afraid he could see right through her to the secret she held so dear. But he only gave her a pitying look and began again.

"Forgive me, Summer, but ... Lavitz ..."

Summer's lips parted in anxious anticipation, as if she would be the one to say the words aloud to herself. She already knew what was coming.

"... was killed in Hellena Prison during the attempt to rescue me. I'm so sorry."

He paused then, knowing Summer wouldn't be able to listen to anything else he said, or comprehend it either. On one hand, she was thankful for the silence, but on the other, she desperately wanted him to continue talking. Albert, speaking in that clear, unassuming, soft way of his.

Summer looked at him. How very typical of the king to apologize for something that was, in no way, his fault. Clearly he was as broken up about the loss as she soon would be. Lavitz had been his most trusted soldier, but more so, he'd been the king's friend. His best man ...

"I understand your pain, Summer. I'm here if you need to talk."

He made a move to get up, but Summer lunged forward and grasped his sleeve. She felt the tears coming. She didn't want to be alone to face them. No, not yet.

Albert sat back down, in the chair this time, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap.

"I can say that it's my fault, if you prefer. I would have taken the blow if I had known ... that man was so powerful! Dart chased him off the prison roof, but to no avail. He got away. The group will be pursuing him after we discuss things with my uncle Doel."

Summer nodded as though she understood but she hadn't really been listening. She simply needed a backdrop right now. A stage for her sorrow to play itself before her, her dreams fizzling and dying with the life of the man she had loved so dearly ...

"Really, Summer, if you need some time alone, I—"

"No! ... No. Just, just be here with me for a while, Your Majesty." She looked up at him, the tears welling in her eyes.

Albert stood and walked to the couch. He sat next to her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I can't say anything that will make it less difficult or more peaceful. There will be months, years of torment. ... but please understand, he was my friend as well. I will be grieving with you. Allow me to lend my shoulder for support."

Summer nodded, the tears tracing glimmering streaks down her nose and face.

Albert hugged her closer. "I admit I was foolhardy. I assumed my death in Hellena would be a sacrifice for a peaceful end to the war. I was selfish. If I had known then—"

Summer shook her head. "No, Your Majesty. You can't think that. You had no other choice. It was noble."

Albert laughed, a hollow rumble in his throat. "Noble," he mused. "Noble, but foolhardy." And he was reminded starkly of Lavitz's own actions on the roof of Hellena prison. The memory wrenched his heart in its cold fist.

He stayed there with Summer for some time, neither of them knowing exactly how long. He reassured her that the pain would lessen over time, and explained that it was he who wanted to bear the bad news, for he had felt it was his fault. He recounted how Summer had been on Lavitz's mind at the end. How he'd pleaded for her protection. How Lavitz's dragoon spirit had chosen Autumn as its heir and that the knight's love would live on, for and in them.

After a while, she asked to be alone and the king stood.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Summer whispered.

"Please, call me Al. And you're welcome, my sister. Good night."

He bowed and left, leaving her to her thoughts. The click of the door closing was like the clang of a cell door. Summer was trapped now, in a prison of her own maddening thoughts.

She had been so carefree what seemed like only moments ago. Even when Thrace had brought his children news of their mother's death, Summer could not recall being so totally and utterly empty. Lavitz had brought light into her life after the loss of her mother. Now, she was alone. The one feeling Summer Chelton had never truly experienced. Loneliness...

Sure, she had her sister and their father ... and Bradley. King Albert as well, now. But none of them, not even Autumn, who so often seemed to understand her to the very depths of her soul, could not fill this void. No, this was a blackness—an absolute emptiness—only created by the death of a lover, a lifelong companion.

She had never gotten to meet his mother and wondered if he had mentioned their relationship to her. Perhaps it was time. The woman needed to know ... about all of it. Albert was certainly too soft-hearted a man to break the news to her. She had seen how hard it had been for him to inform her. It would certainly be worse to tell a devoted mother that her son had died in the midst of battle, when that very same woman had endured the heartache of losing a husband to an expatriate, a traitor. Yes. Summer would have to do it. Summer would have to tell Martha Slambert that the only surviving remnant of her beloved Servi was now resting with his father.

Summer bowed her head once more, and let the next wave of tears fall.


How perfect, Summer thought bitterly.

The sky above Bale swarmed with storm clouds; big, smoky puffs, threatening to burst forth at any moment. Little light was left, save for that which managed to escape the clutches of the clouds, filtering through that wicked mist to the ground below, turning the sky above an eerie shade of grey-white.

Summer turned her attention to the stately house in the center of Slambert Plaza. Its stone foundation supported walls of tan brick, thick and strong, like the men who had once lived inside. The massive glass-paneled windows were a marvel to behold, wild colors dancing with light in the panels at the top and bottom of each, and elegant, decorative supports holding the clear middle panels together. The heraldry above the mahogany front doors told the world of the Slambert Family heritage: a long legacy of pride, honor and blood paid for both ... The house persisted in stark contrast to most of the other buildings in the plaza, but from where Summer stood, it beheld a sort of quiet elegance, an aura of rest and welcome.

A mansion by comparison to most Serdian homes, but modest in the shadow of the beauty that was Indels Castle. The branches of several golden-leaved trees obscured the view of the castle from this angle, but Lavitz had often told her of the view from the roof above the family library.

"It's beautiful, the way the copper on the ramparts catches the light," he'd remarked.

Just a memory now, she thought.

But reminding herself of the memories would be more difficult today than it had been the last few. She'd sobbed, and remembered, and screamed ... had entertained the idea of suicide once or twice. She'd wrestled with thoughts of Lavitz and doubt that he was truly dead. The sorrowful letter from her sister, however, had only reconfirmed the king's experiences. He was gone. But now ... now Summer was facing his mother. A living, breathing piece of Lavitz, left in this world. The fact that Martha was now alone as well somewhat consoled her.

Without allowing herself to entertain too many idealistic notions of forever friendship with Martha Slambert, Summer reached up, and lifted the heavy brass door knocker, letting it fall with a loud 'rap.' Only moments later, a stout woman with graying hair and an apron across her waist opened the door.

"Hello ...?"

Summer turned her eyes down, unable to look at the woman. Lavitz had her eyes ...

She hoped King Albert had at least thought to send the poor woman a calling card. She hadn't.

"Good morning, ma'am. May I come in?"

Mrs. Slambert put her hand to her chin, regarding the young woman with interest. "Yes, of course, my dear. My house is always welcome to ... do I know you?"

Summer shook her head slowly. "No, madam. But I will explain. I'm here—" She swallowed the sob fighting to rise in her throat. "—to bring you some urgent news."

Mrs. Slambert's grey eyes flickered, but she let Summer into the foyer, closing the door behind them.

The house's inside was as lovely as its outside, with a high, arched ceiling and expensive, but comfortable-looking furniture. A warm blaze crackled in the fireplace, and the smell of smoked meat filled the air.

"Smells delicious," Summer offered.

"Thank you. I'm in the middle of preparing a batch of my son's favorite jerky. I'm planning to send it to him while he's on the front lines."

The smile that crossed the woman's face at the mention of her son broke Summer's heart. She didn't have the nerve to say it. Not after that ...

"Come, dear," Mrs. Slambert said, leading Summer by the arm. "We'll talk in the parlor. But can I get you anything?"

Summer kept her eyes averted. How was she ever going to do this?!

"No, thank you. I'm fine."

The two women sat across from each other in high-backed armchairs, before the fire. Mrs. Slambert set a cup of tea on the end table beside her chair and turned to Summer.

"Now, what was this urgent news? More information from the palace about the whereabouts of the First Knighthood, I suppose? You know, they never do tell us where to send the supplies." Mrs. Slambert glanced at a pile of knitted socks, scarves and caps in the corner of the room. They were a drab olive green, the color of the Royal Army of Basil.

"No, it's not that," Summer said, hoping she hadn't sounded harsh. She didn't come here to discuss jerky and socks! "Allow me to introduce myself, Mrs. Slambert. My name is Summer Chelton, youngest daughter of Minister Thrace Chelton, head advisor to His Majesty Albert."

Mrs. Slambert smiled simply, as if the information registered but didn't matter or interest her. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the sort of adoration and love their replicas once shined with for her. It sent a shiver down Summer's spine.

Summer swallowed the rising fear and continued. "I, I'm ..." What was the proper reference? Am? Was? She wasn't sure anymore.

"I'm sorry Lavitz never brought me home before," she said, "but I am his girlfriend." The words tumbled out, end over end. Summer wondered if they had been coherent; Mrs. Slambert now regarded her with a look of mild skepticism.

Slowly, the elder woman spoke. "Why, it couldn't have been more than a few weeks ago that he came by to introduce me to his friends. He mentioned no girlfriend. In fact, I mistook the young lady in their party for his bride ... silly me!"

Summer fought the urge to cry again. She had been so sure of a wedding in her own future, a wedding to the very man they were now discussing in the past tense. Suddenly 'am' no longer seemed like the appropriate address.

"I'm serious, ma'am. He ... he told me he was unsure of how you'd react. He ... didn't want you 'babying' him, as he put it. But I know he was just afraid to bring me home because you're his first love."

A small spark of recognition flashed in Mrs. Slambert's eyes. Everyone who knew Lavitz well enough knew he outwardly complained of her mothering, but those particularly close to the knight also knew that he secretly indulged in the babying. Now she grinned broadly and laughed.

"Oh, my little Lavey! How silly he is!"

When she finally stopped laughing, she held her arms out warmly, expecting to embrace Summer in a welcoming hug. But the young woman remained seated.

"Please allow me to finish, Mrs. Slambert."

The woman turned abruptly to Summer. It was difficult to be serious when such good news had been dropped in her lap. "Oh, you are cold ... are you upset, my dear?"

I can't even begin to explain how upset I am, Summer thought. None of the languages of the tribes of Endiness contains enough words to express how upset I am.

But, instead, Summer said, "Actually, yes. There's something I need to share with you." She leaned out of her chair, closing the distance between her and the middle-aged woman before her, as if she believed their closeness would somehow convince Soa to restore Lavitz's life.

"Mrs. Slambert," she began slowly, "a few days ago, when His Majesty returned from his imprisonment in Hellena, he told me of a tragic event. One he witnessed while in prison."

Summer closed her eyes, took a deep breath and again fought the sobs lapping at her voice. When she regained control, she turned back to Lavitz's mother. Mrs. Slambert's hand crept toward her face, where the fingers rested at her lips. Her eyes were wide. Summer had a feeling she, too, had felt Lavitz's presence leave the earth. The woman deceived herself by making jerky and knitting hundreds of socks.

Summer choked back another angry lump in her throat, scrunched her eyes shut, and spat, "Lavitz sacrificed his life so that King Albert would live." And with it out, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

A silence hung over the room like the calm before a storm. Mrs. Slambert closed her eyes slowly, a single tear escaping from the corner of one.

"I feared this day would come," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "So he's joined Servi ... a noble end for an honorable man."

She stood and walked to Summer, laying an understanding hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I'm sure Lavitz told you," Mrs. Slambert said, "that I struggled for a long time to come to terms with the death of his father, Servi. He was a good man. A beloved warrior, a trusted knight ... a great man. Much like Lavitz was. This world does not have nearly enough of their kind anymore. I finally understood that I had to rejoice in the time I had been given with Servi, rather than despise the man who stole him from me too soon. It was Soa's will ..."

She tilted Summer's head up so she could look into the girl's eyes. "You, too, will understand one day, Summer. The great men of this world touch our lives by their presence and are taken away all too quickly. They are here to make us see our lives in a different light. To live for others, not ourselves. Lavitz was just like his father. ... He died a hero of Serdio."

Racked with sobs, from both emotion and the woman's wisdom, Summer stood and threw herself into Mrs. Slambert's arms.

"It hurts so much!" she wailed.

In understanding borne of experience, Mrs. Slambert placed her arms around Summer and hugged her tightly, stroking the girl's long, dark curls and humming a lullaby she had once sung to Lavitz. Outside, the clouds joined the mourners. Fat, heavy raindrops fell from the sky, spattering the ground, tapping at the windowpanes, and washing the world anew.