Stave Two: The Ghost of Christmas Then

The soft tapping of footsteps echoed through the quiet chamber as the mercenary slept once the midnight hour had come. Ike opened his eyes slightly and bolted upright as he noticed a figure approaching his bedside. Immediately, he grabbed Ragnell from its spot beside his headboard and pointed it threateningly at the shadow whose face he could not see.

"Is that how you greet me, Ike? By brandishing the very sword I rejected?"

Upon hearing the voice, the blue-haired man dropped Ragnell in shock. Its golden blade clanged against the hard floor, and the mercenary stared wide-eyed at the man before him, shaking slightly.

"F-father?"

He tried to peer through the darkness and get a better look. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the familiar build and facial structure that belonged to the man he loved and admired so much– the one who had taught him almost everything he knew about the ways of the sword.

"Is it really you?" Ike choked. "If not, it's a cruel dream. You can't really be him."

"Oh?" the man laughed, amused. "And why not?"

"My father is dead."

The pain in his heart engulfed him. He had never properly mourned his father's passing. He had felt too numb to feel sorrow right away, unable even to shed a tear. So he had buried him as if he were putting someone else's parent to rest. Seeing him now was a heartbreaking joke.

"I'm not dead," Greil told him. "You carry me with you wherever you go. When you swing your sword, it's my hand that guides it, along with everything else I've taught you."

"Father…" Ike said, unable to hold back tears. "Why are you here? Why couldn't you have come before?"

"You haven't needed me, Ike. Not until now," the older man smiled. "You've lost your way, so I'm here to show you what you need to see to remember who you were before you came to this place. I represent your past and all its experiences that have shaped the man you are now. I'm here as the Ghost of Christmas Then."

The blue-haired man wiped his eyes and stared blankly at his father for a moment. The gruff man cleared his throat and continued.

"Come, we have to go. Just take my hand, and we'll be off."

Ike reached out into the darkness and grabbed his father's outstretched hand. Immediately, he felt himself being lifted off the bed as if he was made of nothing but air. Greil brought his son down by his side and waved a hand at the window. It opened, and together, the two made their way out into the night. As they flew through the air, Ike was amazed at the feeling of soaring high above the earth. Is this what it's like for Pit?

They flew into the clouds and towards daylight. The mercenary squinted his eyes as the rays blinded him for a moment. Looking to his right, Ike could see his father clearly now. He looked exactly the way he had before he died and his hand was warm as it grasped Ike's smaller one. The blue-haired man felt like a child again.

"We're here," Greil said and guided Ike down to the ground below.

They landed just outside a thick forest, near a small wooden house on the outskirts of a village. Looking around, Ike found himself on strange ground. There was something very familiar about it, though. He knew he must have been here once before.

"What is this place?" he asked his father.

"This," the large man answered, "is Gallia."

Ike looked around him in amazement, recognizing the place more and more. It had been so long since he had set foot here. His memories of his life before coming to Crimea were vague, but not forgotten. Suddenly, the door of the house burst open and out ran two children. The mercenary couldn't believe his eyes. There, toddling before him, was a younger version of himself. He was being followed closely by his sister, Mist, who was barely able to manage her own two feet.

"Ike!" a voice called from the doorway. "Don't go too far!"

The blue-haired man froze and looked towards the source of the voice. His voice shook as he realized who was standing there.

"M-mother…"

The woman was beautiful, with a face that looked a lot like Mist's and Ike's same blue hair. He took a step towards her, but was stopped by Greil, who put a hand on his shoulder.

"She can't see us, Ike," his father told him. "We're nothing but ghosts here, standing in a memory."

Ike watched as his younger self ran quickly towards a burly man coming out of the woods with an ax. It was Greil himself. The man bent down and swooped up his two children, leaving his weapon on the ground.

"How are my kids?" he laughed.

"We're great!" Ike squeaked. "Are we gonna get the tree for Christmas, Papa?"

"Of course," the man said. "It wouldn't be much of a Christmas without a tree, now would it?"

The blue-haired boy smiled excitedly and Mist squealed with joy. The people before them faded as the memory disappeared, and the sky grew dark. The windows of the house glowed brightly with light from within. Ike turned to look at his father questioningly.

"Let's take a look inside," Greil said.

They approached the house and walked right through the door without opening it. The room was warmed by the fire that burned in the heart, and Ike saw himself, a little older now, sitting on the bed next to Mist. She was hugging his arm tightly, tears running down her face while her brother stared blankly ahead. The younger Greil was looking down at them with a worried frown Never had Ike remembered his father looking so unsure.

"Listen, you two," he started, voice uneasy, "I know it's not going to be easy spending Christmas without your mother, but the three of us are still a family. We have to be strong together."

Mist only wailed.

"I-I don't want to do this!" the boy, Ike, cried, looking up at his father desperately. "I don't want to stay in this place! Everything here…reminds me of her."

Greil looked down at them silently, and Ike finally recognized the pain in his eyes that he hadn't noticed back then. He was suffering, cursing himself inside. This was all his fault. He was the reason these children had no mother. He was the one who had destroyed his family's lives. Just because of that one stupid medallion…

Ike glanced at his father's ghost beside him, looking for signs of regret. The man only watched his former self bend down on a knee and place a hand on his young son's shoulder.

"We're not going to stay here any longer," he told him. "But this, our last Christmas in Gallia – let's try to make it a good one."

Adult Ike turned away to avoid seeing the tears running down his younger self's face.

"I've seen enough," he muttered to his father. "Take me away from here."

"You've got one more past Christmas left to see," Greil told him. "This one you may remember more clearly."

He took his son's hand, and this time, they were whisked away instead of flying. The scene before him disappeared, and instead, Ike found himself standing in the entrance lobby of the Smash Mansion. He saw himself there, only one year younger than he was now, standing beside a small pack of his belongings.

"Don't you remember?" he heard his father say in his ear. "It was Christmas the day you arrived at the Brawl."

Ike nodded slowly. Of course he remembered. It had only been a short time after Princess Elincia had been returned to the throne and Crimea had started on its road to recovery that he had received the invite. The mansion was already covered in bright decorations and everyone was friendly and filled with the holiday spirit.

"Welcome!" a voice called out from the door that led to the rest of the building.

Ike watched his younger self was approached by none other than Pit. The angel was wearing the same green garb the mercenary remembered seeing him in earlier, but instead of bells around his neck, he wore a brooch with holly. That's right…he was the first one I met.

"My name's Pit," the angel said, extending his hand out in greeting. "I'm an angel from Skyworld. Princess Peach asked me to meet you today and show you around."

"I'm Ike," the mercenary said after he had finished shaking the boy's hand. "I'm a mercenary from Crimea."

"Do you need help carrying your stuff?" Pit asked. He bent down and lifted the mercenary's pack with some difficulty. "Ughh."

"You don't have to worry about that," younger Ike said, taking it from him. "I'm used to its weight."

"A-alright then," the angel mumbled embarrassedly. "Here, let me show you to your room!"

Ike watched his younger self follow Pit out of the lobby. Griel smiled at him.

"Let's race ahead of them, shall we?"

With one touch of his father's hand, Ike found himself transported to Ike's room. The light came in brightly through the window as snowflakes danced outside the mansion. Ike watched as the door opened and the angel and his former self came in.

"Like it?" Pit asked.

"Yeah," Ike said. "It's nice and big."

He dumped his pack on the floor by the closet as the angel flapped over towards the neatly made bed and picked something up from the top. He held it out to Ike and the young mercenary stared down at a box wrapped in colorful paper.

"This is for you," Pit told him. "I figured since you were the newest one here, you probably wouldn't know anyone yet, and I didn't want you to be the only one who didn't get a gift on Christmas! I hope you like it."

"Oh," the mercenary said, surprised. "Thank you."

He accepted the box and removed the wrapping carefully, noting how perfectly it had been done. He removed the lid of the white box inside and took out a soft object.

"Thanks, um…what is it?" Ike asked, baffled.

"It's a Santa Hat!" the angel said, smiling excitedly. "People like to wear these around Christmas to help them get in the spirit. Try it on!"

Ike's younger self forced a smile and slipped the red and white hat over his head reluctantly. Pit flapped his wings happily.

"It looks great!"

It looks ridiculous, the real Ike thought, noting his younger self's pained expression. Greil chuckled with amusement.

"You may not have liked it, Ike, but you can't say you weren't touched."

Ike didn't say anything. He just watched as his younger self thanked the angel and put the box and wrapping paper away. Pit told the mercenary that the other Brawlers were preparing his reception lunch downstairs and, taking the man's hand, he led him out of the room and into the hall. At the last moment, younger Ike slipped the hat off his head and let it fall to the floor within his room before the door closed, making it look like an accident. The angel hadn't even noticed.

Older Ike and his father stood in the empty room, looking at the discarded hat on the floor. The blue-haired man was expecting a lecture on appreciating gifts. Instead, the larger man turned to the frosty window and looked outside.

"Do you remember what happened after that?" he asked. "That boy took you around and introduced you to everyone he knew. He was the reason you felt so welcomed when you first arrived here. You thought maybe you'd really come to like this place."

"I know," Ike said. "And I did like it; I still do. But after fighting my first battle, I realized the best way to enjoy it was alone."

"Because of that battle?" his father asked knowingly. He turned away from the blue-haired man and allowed the scene to change again. The air erupted with cheers, and Ike's eyes widened as he realized he was watching the very battle they had been talking about.

"No, I don't want to see it!" he protested, but Greil made no motion to stop the vision.

Ike saw his younger self on the stage, struggling to keep his balance as he was forced towards the edge. He heard a loud yell as his opponent came at him full-force, spinning a gold-edged weapon. The mercenary was knocked off the stage, and when he tried to jump back, he was met with a smashing blow that sent him flying too far off the stage to recover. He landed roughly on the grass, and the other Brawler was declared the winner. Ike's younger self looked up grudgingly as his opponent, Pit, grinned down at him from the stage above. Ike remembered the disappointment, bitterness, and shame he had felt that day, the day his "friend" had bested him. He had been unable to fight the angel seriously, and his reputation had suffered for it.

"You were never the same after that, were you?" his father asked.

Ike cast his eyes down on the floor, reluctantly calling back the memories he had cast off in an effort to save himself some embarrassment.

"When I told the other Brawlers I had held back, they all thought I was lying. They called me a sore loser and said my time would be better spent training than complaining. They knew Pit was a decent fighter…but after his victory, no one expected much from me. That's when I knew that I couldn't form any close bonds with any of them. I'd restrain my full power and end up looking like a fool again. It took a long time for me to feel like I was being taken seriously."

"You were afraid. You thought you'd be kicked out of the Brawl if you went too easy on anyone. So you let them all go, cut off your ties, and became a different person."

"I didn't mean for it to look that way!" Ike protested. "I knew I wouldn't change inside, but for the purpose of the Brawl, I had to be tougher. It was what I had to do to survive."

Greil sighed. Ike hated seeing his father look so disappointed. The older man didn't seem to be angry with the way he had acted, but Ike could hear regret in his voice.

"I know the life we led must have been a hard one for you," he told his son. "Christmases were especially rough after your mother was gone. I never could bring the same kind of warmth to the holidays that she could…and yet, when you got here, you were practically assaulted with Christmas spirit."

"The mercenaries had spirit too. You always said we were all a family. I never forgot that."

"That's true," Greil laughed. "We killed for a living, yes, but when it came down to it, there were many of us who would die for one another. You never found that kind of family here, though."

Ike sighed.

"I just don't want to fight anyone I care about. Is that wrong? I know I can't go all out against someone who's my friend. It's my weakness."

"That's hardly a weakness, son. Caring about people is what gives you strength to fight. It's what makes it worth it in battle. And when you're fighting against someone you know, the only way you can respect them as a friend is by giving it all you've got. They deserve no less."

Ike looked at his father sadly. How could the man understand what he was going through? He had never encountered anything like the Brawl before…

"Ike," his father said, "I have to be going now."

"What? No!" Ike protested, reaching out to touch his father's arm.

He felt the child within him cry out as Greil took his hand and pushed it away slowly, a sad smile on his face.

"I know you haven't really changed inside, Ike. You're still my son, and I know you'll do what's right. These scenes I've showed you, they're all pieces of your past that have helped build who you are now. You can't change them, but you can learn from them. What happens next is all in your hands. You can still save yourself any future regret. You don't need me to hold your hand anymore."

The air was filled with grief and muffled sobs.

"Please," Ike begged, "don't leave me. Father…"

He felt himself growing smaller. His hands were shrinking; his voice was getting higher as he pleaded for his father to stay. He was barely taller than Greil's knee now. His clothes fell down to the ground around his ankles, leaving him standing there in only an oversized shirt, grabbing onto the man's leg. With one arm, his father scooped him off the ground and placed him carefully on the bed, pulling the covers up to his son's chin. The child, Ike, stared back at him with tear-filled eyes as his father ran his fingers over his soft blue hair.

"Go to sleep now," Greil said softly, showing a tender side Ike barely remembered.

His voice soothed him. Ike blinked his eyes sleepily as his father leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead. He could feel the sadness dissolve within him as he closed his eyes. Everything turned to darkness, and slowly, the mercenary felt his consciousness drift away.

A/N: It's GREIL! I'm a sucker for father-son relationships, which makes this, by default, the most touching chapter for me. I hope I didn't mess with Ike's background too much. I've only played Path of Radiance once, so I'm working off mostly memory here.

Pretty light on the comedy this time around; the next chapter's going to make up for that though. I hope Ike's character is starting to make more sense now...I had to do some major editing on this chapter to convince myself, but I like how it came out.

Ohhh crap, I have to finish my editing by tomorrow. DX