A/N: Written directly after I saw episode 3, this is a direct continuation from the end of that episode, and succeeds The Things She Gives You.

Disclaimer: I do not own Shuumatsu no Izetta.

Come What May

It's still very difficult to comprehend.

You've won, or at the very least, your incredible efforts on behalf of your beloved princess have resulted in the success of her armies, at least for now.

Perhaps it is only a small, single victory in the grand scheme of things, but right here, right now, it is substantial.

But even more so than that, it is empowering.

You feel that palpable excitement in the air as you descend towards them, the armies of wounded, but delightfully dumbfounded men and women, who have just become the victors of today thanks to your magics.

But it isn't they you are approaching.

Your princess stands there at the forefront, exactly where you know she'd be in line of the battalions if she could be, ready to shed her blood for the sake of her people.

Only now, it is tears she sheds, and they are for you.

Your apologies are barely out of your trembling lips as you land, bowing your head in guilt. Before you can even comprehend it, she is rushing forward, shouting not in anger, but in the utmost relief. She throws her arms around you, sobbing and shuddering almost violently.

For a split second, you fear she's in pain again, but it's soon made clear it's just the opposite.

She clings to you, shaking as though from dire cold, but the warmth you feel from her proves that is far from the case.

She whimpers her gratitude to you, words of relief for your safety, and then for your services. Services you'd given even though she'd adamantly refused them. Because you knew she didn't want to put your life in danger, not after the shared history she's lived through with you in your younger years.

But you knew. You knew she'd needed you, that her people needed you, and so you'd made the decision on your own to lend them your powers.

Even though you knew she'd wanted to avoid this because of the outcomes it would surely breed.

Their enemies knew now that Eylstadt had a witch on its side, and they absolutely weren't going to react kindly about it.

You know this as well as she does.

You know your actions today will only endanger your future self.

And you know she has no intentions of leaving your side, nor you hers.

Therefore, you'll be jeopardizing her.

You both know that.

But...

But at least, for right now, it is worth it.

She cries freely over you shoulder, clutching at your back, heart pounding thickly against yours. You can't help but remember last night, how familiar all this feels. She holds you now as she'd held you then, as though you are the most precious thing in the world to her.

Only now, her tears are for better reasons.

It is all you can do to hug her in return, reaching around the gun, being careful in touching her injured arm as you whimper her title and cry with her.

The defeated men are now triumphant, and their shouts of joy rise up into the air, making for an uplifting, beautiful sunset.

When you and your princess are able to, you invite her onto your mount, securing her in your lap as you've done before, the position now becoming familiar to the both of you.

You descend down the mountainside, over the treetops, until the troops below take note of you. And though they are clearly confused about the strange magics at play here, they don't question it, nor you.

As they rally in a chorus of cheers, you set her down to look out over her men. You take a proud stance at her side, your hand brushing subtly against hers. She returns the grip with a fervent nonchalance, the smile on her face as dazzling as the sparkle in her eyes.

As the soldiers celebrate their victory, you can hear how they are attributing it to you as well as to her. They proclaim praises and words of gratitude, until the valiant voices break out into song.

Humbled, you stand there and listen, tears welling up in your eyes as you relish in their joy.

Likewise, your princess is still, unmoving as she appreciates their melody.

For a long moment, all just seems right with the world.

But as wonderful as it is, it is a fleeting moment, and before much longer, you can feel her grip on your fingers loosen.

Concerned, you flash her a brief glance, finding her silent, head bowed, eyes closed.

And you know she is grieving all those she's lost today, all of the good soldiers who've laid down their lives for the sake of their country, their families, their freedom. Tears fall, glinting in the setting sunlight on their way down to the blood-soaked soil, her breath quivering.

You don't know what to say, what you can say. There isn't anything even your magics can do to bring back those men.

Perhaps if you'd acted sooner, you might've spared a few more of them.

The guilt is becoming contagious. Though you know she doesn't want you blaming yourself any more than you want her to blame herself, neither of you can help it.

But she has a duty to her people to be strong right now, even if it is just an act of reassurance.

So she wipes her sleeve over her eyes and lifts her chin once more as the men end their courageous song. They finish by chanting her name until it echoes from the mountaintops.

Poised and proud, she gives a brief speech about their honorable work, commending them to no end for their valiant efforts. She dismisses them with a fist to her chest and a bow of deep gratitude to the soldiers of her country.

As the crowds begin to disperse, higher-ups start giving orders, figuring out where everyone is going to spend the night. You hold tight to your princess' hand and help her climb down from the boulder.

Almost instantly, the sergeants and commanders are there before you both, insisting you return to shelter and spend the night.

But she refuses in the kindest of ways, wanting instead to oversee the treatment of the injured and ensure that every soldier is given arrangements that are as hospitable as possible in these conditions.

From the time the sun sets to the time the moon is halfway across the sky, you follow her wherever she goes, as a lost puppy would follow a kind soul.

And you're surprised and flattered when the men compliment you as well, bowing deeply to show their gratitude and wonder for your abilities. Every time, you blush and squeak that you're not deserving of their thanks, and every time the princess chuckles and encourages you to accept their words.

By the time the two of you are finally escorted back to shelter, you must've received at least half the amount of praise that she has, and that is quite an impressive amount. Certainly more than you've ever heard in your entire life before, from persons other than your beloved princess, anyway.

But the triumphs of the day have taken their toll on the both of you by now as you limp inside the old building, bustling with men and women soldiers alike who are settling down for the night, until reinforcements and transportation arrive at first light to bring them to secure locations elsewhere.

For now, the rooms are lit only by dim lantern-light and silver moonbeams seeping through the cracks. The smells of meat and bread are thick on the air as those who are still awake treat themselves.

You follow her through the lines of soldiers sitting on the floor, laughing and talking and simply reveling in their success.

That is when an embarrassingly familiar and telltale rumble rips its way through your stomach, growling more loudly than their merry laughter. With a whimper, you stop dead in your tracks, heat boiling up to settle in your cheeks.

Your princess pauses, turns back to giggle over her shoulder, her eyes alight with amusement.

"Let's have a bit of supper, shall we?"

You nod, keeping your eyes trained on the floor. She chuckles again, steps closer, and takes both of your hands in hers.

She guides you several paces away to where a group of soldiers are sharing bread. They spot the two of you and eagerly invite you to join.

Your princess dips her head graciously and accepts the offer. She coaxes you down beside her, and you can't help but keep close to her side, still flushing from just how hungry you are.

Like a blessing, the man closest to you hands you an entire loaf of warm bread.

"Here," he grunts with a smile. "For our savior, the Witch."

"A-Ah!" You react on instinct and hold out your hand to accept, then quickly turn the other way. "B-But the Princess-!" You fret, not wanting to eat unless she has done the same.

But another soldier is handing her another loaf of bread as well.

You release a sigh and smile, unable to recall the last time you'd actually seen her eat something. You turn back to the man who handed you your supper and dip your head.

"Th-Thank you very much."

"Don't mention it, Miss. It's us who've gotta thank you."

With that, he turns away and listens to the next story being told.

You're eager to get started on your bread, but you hold off, flashing a glance to your princess. She is fixated on the conversations of the soldiers and has yet to touch her food. Biting your lip, you chew on that instead.

She must've noticed your plight, because she glances your way and smiles.

"Izetta, please eat."

"Y-You, too, Princess!" you blurt out. "You should eat something!"

"I will," she assures. "I'm just listening for now."

With that much said, you finally feel sure enough about it. Therefore, you tear off a piece of the bread and began to satiate your growling stomach, consuming no less than half the loaf in a single minute.

Having made sure to sit on her left side so as not to potentially irritate her arm wound, you lean slightly into her and let out a soft breath.

"I'm so glad I could help..."

She turns to you once again, reaching out to place a hand over yours.

"You've done so much more than that, Izetta. I really cannot thank you enough."

Her lilac eyes shimmer with flecks of gold sparked by the lanterns, and her joy is so genuine it moves your very soul. You can feel tears of joy rising up behind your eyes as you present her with a shy grin.

"It was the least I could do for your country, Princess. I'm glad to be of assistance."

She bows her head to you ever-so-slightly, your private conversation never interrupting that of her soldiers.

After a moment has passed, you clear your throat, directing her attention to the matter that's still making you anxious.

"Princess, your food."

"Oh, yes." She seemed to have forgotten about it until now. She tears off a piece, fully-intent to enjoy herself.

But before the soft sustenance can touch her lips, the two of you are approached by a pair of rapid, heavy footsteps.

You straighten up right away, feeling the tension in those steps, fearing something is about to shatter this peace you've only just found.

She, too, straightens her back and turns to the source of the sound.

A familiar blond man skids to a halt, panting and clearly upset. Subconsciously, you tighten your grip on your princess' hand as she addresses him.

"Hans? What's the matter? Has something happened?"

Her carefree giggle and bright eyes have faded once more into a serious tone and calculated vision. Even after the long, horrendous day, she's still prepared to jump into action should it be needed.

You train your eyes on Hans, equally as fretful as you are determined to do whatever it takes to keep your princess safe.

But it is soon clear there is nothing you can do.

Not for this.

Hans lifts his face, distress and grief contorting his features. For even this war-worn man to be upset by what he is about to reveal makes your stomach churn. His eyes bore into the princess', but as he speaks, he looks down at the floor.

"Princess Fine. A message has just arrived..."

In spite of the foreboding implications, she keeps her voice calm, level.

"A message?"

Hans grits his teeth, and continues in a low, regretful tone.

"Yes. Princess Fine... I'm deeply sorry to inform you that... your Father has succumbed to his illness."

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing fills the air in that next moment.

Not a single sound.

Silence hangs in the room like a plague, until it starts taking its victims.

One by one, gasps and shouts arise from all around, horrified, grievous cries.

"What?"

"Your Excellency has...?"

"How can this be?"

Horror and despair rip through you, making you want to vomit the meal you've just enjoyed. After the incredible victory these people have seen today, for it to end in such heartbreaking tragedy so quickly...

But as the soldiers cry out all around you, and as your stomach twists inside, you can only focus on her.

She is still.

So still.

Her lips are parted slightly in a gasp that never finishes, her eyes frozen in a blank, helpless stare. Her breath is hitched, the words caught in her throat, choking her into silence.

Hans never lifts his gaze. He doesn't want to see her reaction.

You know this for a fact, because you don't want to, either.

But you can't look away from her, unmoving, snared in the cruel vices of the universe after only just obtaining victory.

You can feel her hand in yours as it begins to tremble, her nails curling and uncurling slightly against your palm, as if they don't quite know what to do with themselves.

You feel your tears just as easily as you can see her fighting back her own.

You try to rasp her title, but no sound is produced.

It is she who speaks next, thin and fragile.

"My... My father has...?"

Hans only bows more deeply.

"My... My sincerest apologies, Princess. All of Eylstadt mourns this loss tonight with all our hearts."

Nothing feels real to you.

It doesn't make sense; you're reacting as though you've been informed of your own relative's passing, not hers.

But you understand that the pain you are feeling is for her.

There are emotions she can't allow herself to express, even in front of her own soldiers.

You wish she would. No one would blame her for it.

Everyone around you is already sobbing, grown men and women alike.

But still, even now, with this terrible news weighing down her heart, your princess refuses to show that weakness. All she can manage is a hollow, lifeless reply.

"I see..."

The bread rolls out of her lap as she stands, her hand slipping away from yours.

You whimper, tears already streaming down as you scramble to follow her, bracing her back right away when she sways on her feet.

"P-Princess-"

But you can't say anything more.

There's nothing else you can say.

Not for this.

Nothing can ever make this better for her.

She limps past her men as their once-triumphant songs spiral down into mournful howls. Desperately, you stay at her side, clinging to the small of her back in an effort to support her.

You can only cry, leaving droplets behind on the dusty floorboards to make a path. You don't know where she's going, and something tells you she doesn't, either.

Just... away.

She doesn't want to be seen by her people.

Not like this.

But your only reassurance is the fact that she never once asks you to leave her side, nor does she ever imply that she wants to dismiss you.

She hobbles to an empty room, the only occupants of which are a single lantern and a few empty mats. She barely makes it that far before she falls to her knees, collapsing so weakly it startles you into crying out.

"P-Princess!"

You crouch down beside her, pressing close to her side, sniffling without rest. You watch her lift both hands to her face to hide it, the thinnest, most heartbreaking sound tumbling from her lips.

It doesn't sound like a breath. It sounds as though her soul is leaving her body.

"I... I knew this day was coming..." she whispers. Possibly it's to you, possibly to herself, possibly to no one at all. Her voice is thick and cracked, her breath hitching with tears she buries in the creases of her palms.

"His condition wasn't improving... he'd told me to... steel myself for this outcome... to be ready to rule alone... I just never expected... so soon... and today of all days..."

She releases another sigh, and another part of her soul goes with it.

She begins to tremble, then shake, as violently as she had earlier today upon embracing you after your return from the battlefield.

You much preferred the motion before, when her tears had been for joy.

But now...

Now they were for the most terrible of reasons.

"Princess..."

You can't do anything more than weakly whisper and hold her close, pulling her in. Resting one hand on her convulsing shoulders, you press the other against her side.

Her heart is breaking beneath your palm. You can feel it striking, fear and sorrow and pain piling up on every beat until her sobs are silently choking her.

She is falling apart in your arms, and there is nothing you can do about it.

There is nothing you can do to stop it.

Nothing you can do to make it better.

All you can do is let her cry, and cry with her.

You bury your face against her shoulder and sob miserably into her silken hair.

"Princess... I'm sorry... I-I'm... I'm so sorry..."

Sorry is all you can be.

You can't be brave right now. You can't be strong. Not even for her sake.

Because her grief is your grief, and her pain is your pain.

You can feel her hands gripping blindly at the borrowed uniform you're wearing, but she can't seem to find purchase for long before the spasms force her fingers elsewhere.

This is worse than last night. So much worse.

Because you know you can't fix this.

Not with kind words, not with magics.

All you can do is hold her close and let her grieve.

And you grieve with her, until you feel there are no tears left to shed.

But she keeps going, as though she is finally crying for all those years she's suppressed herself.

You cover her, let her hide herself in your collar, in your shoulder, wherever is most comfortable for her in that instance. You stroke softly through her hair and kiss her temple, whispering her title over and over again, reminding her that you're here.

"Princess... Princess..."

You don't know how long it takes for her to finally compose herself enough to speak again. She's been stifling her breath and her sobs into your shirt all this time, so when she speaks, her voice is nothing but a feeble rasp.

"Izetta... I'm so sorry... I should be... celebrating you for what you've done for us today. And instead..."

A pang shoots through you as you flounder for the right words.

"P-Princess! Please don't apologize to me! I-I don't need celebrating! I don't need anything like that! I-I just... I just... need you to be okay..." you confess, clutching her tighter. "A-And I know... that you can't be okay. Not right now. A-And I know there's nothing I can do to help you... I'm sorry..."

She struggles to catch her breath, to speak around the sobs lodged at the top of her chest. Her heart is still breaking as much as her voice is.

"No... I am sorry for... I... I need to be your princess... and yet... here I am... still so weak..."

"Princess..." Your voice is a plea, begging her not to degrade herself at a time like this, for a purpose so menial. "It's okay to be weak... if n-not to your people, then just... just me. You can be weak here... with me. It's okay, Princess..."

You feel as though you've said something right, something she's needed to hear for a long time now.

Because she sobs much more loudly than she has until now, a gasp that begins in the core of her stomach and jolts throughout her entire body. She shakes hard against you, wailing fractions of her voice in caterwauls of grief.

The severity of her reaction tells you just how strongly she feels about your statement, that she believes it is true.

But it still pains you beyond explanation.

The girl whom you'd always known to be so joyful, so vibrant, so full of life...

Now, she is making the most distressing sounds you've ever heard.

She sounded so... so defeated.

So broken.

You feel as though you've only won a small battle today, but the passing of her father is a loss ten times greater than that single victory.

She cries.

Just cries, and her sobs rise up through the windows and out into the stars, never to be heard by anyone other than yourself.

It is a sorrowful honor to be granted this position. At the very least, it reinforces how deeply she trusts you above anyone else.

Again, for the second night in a row, she lets you see, hear, and feel her cry.

You hold her close, until she's exhausted herself beyond her limits. Physically, she can't bear it any longer, and she slumps into your arms. You help her sit up just a bit, just enough so that she can swallow, and so her lungs can function properly.

Somewhere along the lines, her sobs turn into fractured whispers of your name.

"Izetta... Izetta..."

And you return each one with hers.

"Princess... Princess..."

You close your eyes and hold her until the painful crying stops.

Until her labored breathing has slowed.

Until her speeding pulse has dropped.

Gently, you lay her down onto one of the mats, cradling her head in your hands before you curl up at her side. You drape one arm across her stomach and side in an effort to keep her warm.

At this point, she is barely conscious. She is far too enervated on every level - mental, emotional, and physical. The dreadful news of her father's passing managed to sap away the last of her energy, until it was all but depleted.

You fear for her health, for her wellbeing. It scares you, shakes you to the core, what you've seen her go through in just these past two days alone.

"It isn't fair..." you mumble against her coat. "Princess..."

You'd assumed she'd slipped into unconscious already, but a slight stir tells you otherwise. Her eyes remain closed, but her arm comes up to rest against your shoulders, keeping you close.

She makes it clear that she wants you here tonight.

"Ize...tta..."

Sniffling, you peek up at her tearstained face.

"I'm here, Princess. I'm here..."

Just those words seem to be enough.

She sighs, and you hear the rush of air go through her lungs, hoping it can retrieve the pieces of her soul and bring them back in with the next breath she draws.

Her heartbeat rings dully in your ear. Unlike last night, when it was slow and steady in the end, now it is erratic once more, and painfully hard. You weep into her collar, willing her to sleep, simply so her pain can be halted, if only shortly.

Finally, it seems you get your wish. She grows still, limp, silent.

You've never hated the universe more than you do today.

Not even when it persecuted you for existing, and tried to punish you for crimes you unknowingly committed simply by being born.

All you'd ever wanted to do was keep her safe, and even now, that is all you want.

Even in spite of this horrible tragedy, you vow never to give up on that promise – not even at your dying breath.

With a heavy heart, you pull yourself away from her, just for a moment. You brush your thumbs over her cheeks, clearing away as many of the tears as possible before dipping down. Softly, you press you lips over her pale cheek, letting a few tears of your own transfer onto her skin.

"I'm so sorry, Princess..."

Helplessly, you curl back over her and close your eyes.

You don't know what tomorrow will bring.

But you pray it won't be as awful as this.

As your conscious fades, so too does that feeling of helplessness.

Instead, it only fuels your determination to protect what you love most in this world.

You will defend her until your dying breath, or until there is nothing left to defend her from.

Come what may, you'll stay by her side either way, for as long as you both shall live.

A/N: I don't know why I felt compelled to write this (no wait, yes I do, it's because I wanna see some intimate hurt/comfort/affection between these two haha).

I guess I just really want episode 4 to show us Fine finding out about her father, and I want Izetta to be there to comfort her when it happens. Part of me can envision Fine breaking down like this over his death, if only in private, but the other part of me can absolutely see her as the strong, silent type who composes herself and tries not to let it faze her. I guess we'll just have to wait for episode 4...