Rose was frozen as she stood at the exit of Charle Frahma's home. For many seconds, she was still; closing her eyes, she breathed out slowly in an attempt to ignore the overwhelming scent of roses in the air. She wasn't sure how long she had stood in that position. No doubt, many had passed by, some giving the warrior confused looks while others merely smiled and walked on, chalking the moment up to Rose's strange behavior. Just as the beaming afternoon sun became too much for her to bear, the familiar sound of light footsteps became audible.

"Rosie, darling," the high pitched elderly voice rang in the hallway. Looking over her shoulder, Rose stared blankly.

"What is it Charle?" she muttered quietly. Turning around fully, she sighed as she viewed her friend. A single tear had escaped from the corner of the Wingly's right eye, one that she quickly shook away with a delicately clenched hand. One that seemed to be holding something, Rose noticed.

"Rosie," Charle cooed, hesitating before she grabbed one of Rose's tough, gloved hands. She released the contents of her fist upon her worn palm. "Are you absolutely sure about this, sweetie?"

Rose wasted no time in replying, nodding her head promptly and firmly, lest the uneasy feeling in her gut intervene. Peering down at the stiff ribbon she and Charle held, she cleared her throat, running her fingers one last time over the luxurious, silky fabric. "This is the last time I will be killing the God of Destruction. I'm sure of it." She pushed the black choker until Charle's hand, slowly pressing down on Charle's soft fingers until they clamped upon the choker frailly. ". . . I won't be needing this anymore."

For the first time in ages, Rose watched as the light from Charle's eyes faded into misery. Her shoulders dropped, the look of anguish on her face was visible for only a second before the Wingly turned on her heel. "Of course," she quietly agreed. "You've performed your job well, my dear."

Rose was silent as she let her words sink in. Indeed, she had performed her job well. And for so long. By the gods, it was so long. That is, until a certain set of twin princesses was born, breaking the warrior's perfect record.

"I'll be here until tomorrow morning," Rose breathed. She watched Charle's solemn, shaking back for only a moment more before finally exiting the mansion. Her heart dropped as the gentle sobs of her friend echoed.

"Thank you, Charle Frahma," she whispered, unsure if even Charle with her advanced hearing could hear. And perhaps it was best if she didn't. ". . . I'm sorry."

Rose hadn't walked three steps before she found her hand instinctively reach for her throat. It would take quite a while for her to get used to a bare neck. Or perhaps she would never. After all, she had worn it for over eleven thousand years. It had taken her a century to become accustomed to immortality, and it would probably take the same amount of time to adjust back to mortal life.

'I'll be long dead before I know it,' she thought with a smirk.

Passing through the green teleportors, she grimaced as the smell of roses became stronger. Standing before the familiar water fountain, it was borderline unbearable. Even so, she didn't hesitate to approach the fountain, finding a seat upon the smooth, sun-baked stones.

Charle had to know she hated roses. Not so much the aesthetics, but the overwhelming, sweet scent. At the end of the Dragon Campaign, when Rose began her seemingly endless pursuit of the Moon Child, Charle began the tradition of planting a rose bush every time she saved the world.

Looking over her shoulder, Rose gazed at the small valley of bushes. The first five bushes, planted millenia ago, still bloomed with crisp red flowers. Even when Miata, Charle's gardener, decided to plant the "babies", animated blossoms that had petals in the shape of mouths and ate anything within reach, the roses continued to thrive. After the fifth bush, Charle had taken upon herself to fill all of Ulara with the flowers.

'And so the putrid scent spread,' Rose thought with a snort. But she could never tell her friend to stop. Not when it seemed so important her.

Leaning back on her elbows, she let her head fall back, smiling as a breeze passed through her hair. It really was a great day, despite the melancholy of losing her immortality.

As the breeze settled. Rose closed her eyes, basking in the sunlight once more. Letting out a quiet sigh, she was ready to let the summer day lull her to sleep.

Then she thought to herself. . .

Something seemed familiar. . .

Peeling her eyes open, she glanced to her side. "Shit," she grumbled.

Nearly one month ago, she had sat in this same position. It had been nighttime, the only sound audible the rushing water of the fountain. A similar gentle breeze had soothed her worries away.

And beside her had sat Dart.

"Dart," she whispered his name sadly. Immediately, she regretted it as a thousand images swam through her head.

She remembered their first meeting. His expression was oddly cute then, she had thought, as he gawked at her calm countenance while the dragon Feyrbrand hunted them down. Then their first battle. The naivety of the boy truly was an annoyance. Indeed, it was hard for her to believe that Zeig's succesor was such an inexperienced warrior.

Then time passed. Their challenges increased. Friends died. Enemies seemed to get stronger with every step they took. Rose witness as Dart grew from a headstrong optimistic, too-kind-for-his-own-good warrior, into the man he was now. She closed her eyes as her memory lead her to their conversation at the very fountain she sat upon now. It was the night he would later claim to be the moment he realized his feelings for her.

'Such an incredible notion,' she smirked. 'You were trying to kill me just hours before.'

The memory of a piercing clash of blades disrupted her warm reminisce.

It had happened again, she realized. He had tried to kill her. . . or had he? Though she spoke not a word after their altercation, her thoughts were loud and terrible in her mind, the voices in her head screaming at each other in an attempt to figure out "why".

Of course, she would figure soon that he wasn't himself. Albert had reassured the validity of her theory with a similar deduction of his own. Evil spirits, he had said.

She grimaced. She knew that place was a fucking nightmare. She supposed this confirmed it for the rest.

'But even so. . . '

Sitting up straight, she flipped her dark hair behind her back. "Don't be an idiot," she admonished herself with an unsure sigh. "He's still Dart." Of course, he was being controlled. He would never draw his blade against her with such malice.

'Not when he. . . not when we. . .'

Rose stood abruptly. Glancing at the fountain's water, she noted the mix of expressions on her face. Amidst the hurt and sadness was a fierce determination. One she hadn't felt since she first started her campaign against the Moon Child. She must save the world, no matter how much it hurt. It had been her mantra for years. Breathing in slowly, she clenched her fist.

Perhaps it was time for her to be a little selfish.

"Rose?" she heard the rich voice of Miata call from afar. Her eyes still on the water, she watched as her reflection was joined by another. "Are you well, Rose?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Miata, what time is it?"

"Why, it is noon." Miata frowned as she saw the curve in Rose's lip. "Charle sent me to ask if you were ready for lunch."

Blinking, Rose finally brought her eyes to Miata; on her face was an expression one could only dream to see on Rose. It nearly made the Wingly blush.

"Please tell Charle 'thanks' for me," she muttered before turning on her heel. "But I still have something I must do before we approach the signet."

"Oh? Something more important than a meal with a friend?" Rose heard the Wingly snort. Without looking back, Rose nodded once more, earning her a weary sigh. "You've always had a habit of leaving without saying goodbye properly."

"I'll return," Rose muttered. "When I've saved the world. Then we'll have lunch." Waiting for a reply, a small smile crept across her face as she heard Miata begin walking, quietly admonishing Rose for her flightiness. She began walking herself, her pace quickening with her resolve. Nearing the teleporter that lead to the Death Frontier, she wondered if she was wasting her time. If she knew Dart, and if he heeded her advice, he would be at the one place he had always avoided, even when they were only hours away.

Of course, there was no knowing if she would make it in time, even with her strong Dragoon wings. Hell, she wasn't a hundred percent sure if it was the place she should be going.

Standing before the green teleportor, she recalled the last thing she had told him.

You must have no regrets.

The she had fled from Coolon, hoping the desperation to get away wasn't evident. It was the only thing she could do to keep herself from breaking. The only thing she could do to keep herself from throwing her body against Dart in a deep embrace. From kissing him until that rueful, pleading look on his face would vanish.

From making herself look like a damn fool in love in front of her companions.

Wasting no more time, she stepped into the bright light.


I feel like I'm slacking. I used to average on six page chapters for ongoing stories. . . meh.

I also feel compelled to thank my boyfriend, whom I have graciously given the title "Beta Reader Baby". Despite his intense hatred of Legend of Dragoon, and his irrational disgust of Dart and Rose as a couple, he lovingly agrees to look over my stories, making violent and incredulous quips at each character as well as pointing out syntax errors, typos, and the like. Thank you Beta Reader Baby XD

Two more chapters to go woot! Or perhaps three? Still deciding. . .