Precious
See disclaimer in 01
Yggdra stood very still as the battle raged around her, as orders were shouted and metal clashed again and again. She didn't move, didn't even flinch, as blood flew and splattered, as magic burst in the air around her. The Gran Centurio was vibrating madly in her hands, and it was almost all she could do to keep hold of it; she couldn't use it like this.
But more, how could she wield the sword, how could she do battle, when this was all she could hear? It filled her ears and hurt her chest, burning her eyes with tears that wanted to start.
When this had happened before, she'd heard Queen Emelone's voice, then Gulcasa's voice in her mind. There wasn't a voice this time—just the distant sound of a child crying. It had started out low, but now it was nearly a scream. She still couldn't believe that she was the only one who heard it.
Yggdra watched her troops do battle against the dead and against those strangely powerful summoned monsters. She watched Kylier yelling at them to stop, restrained by Flone from actually wading into the midst of the combatants. And she watched as Gulcasa and the fallen angel Nessiah wove their deadly dance across the steps of Nessiah's temple.
It was a dance—a stalemate. Nessiah always seemed to melt through the air just past wherever Gulcasa's scythe sliced towards him, and the killing lightning he threw always seemed to hit just short of where Gulcasa was.
"Just leave this place," Nessiah shouted at Gulcasa over the sizzle and snap of electricity building behind him. "You shouldn't be involved in this!"
"Like hell I'm going anywhere until you give me some damn explanation for what you pulled on us at Machina," Gulcasa snapped back, his eyes blazing. "You were one of us—why use us like that?!"
"Stand down! This isn't your battle—go back to your people, to your castle! They need you, and I won't have my justice obstructed by you! I've waited far too long for this! Just go home!"
"Don't you lecture me about need, and this has been my battle ever since you turned your back on us! I can't forgive this!"
They continued to go back and forth in that vein as they traded blows that never connected. Yggdra looked on, tightly gripping her sword and wondering why this seemed so much like a lucid dream.
Nessiah, who'd raged so violently against the heavens and mercilessly violated the souls of the dead Royal soldiers, plainly did not want to hurt Gulcasa—or to fight him at all. And Gulcasa… Yggdra didn't think she'd ever seen him this emotional, whether in battle or during the times they'd spoken. She couldn't help but remember how deeply he'd grieved when his soldiers had told him Nessiah had died, though it seemed so long ago to her. She could only imagine how betrayed Gulcasa must feel.
This was too much for her to absorb all at once. There was so much she still had to think about—that Nessiah had made the Holy Sword, all the implications of that fact, how many times she and Gulcasa had been manipulated by this man over the course of the war, why Nessiah was so bent on seeing the heavens purged—that all she could do was set it aside, and think of the immediate situation.
Her men were fighting for their lives, Gulcasa was fighting his own heart, Kylier was against there being any battle… and she was immobilized by the sound of Nessiah in pain.
In pain, anguished and torn, believing only in what he was doing but incapable of striking Gulcasa down to get there. In pain, and despite his long years and his hatred for the world, that pain was unbearably vivid and human.
His hatred for the world. A hatred that had led to this tragic, tragic cycle that had brought Yggdra and her army, her new family, back here where it had all begun. This cycle that Yggdra had sworn she was going to break.
This cycle of hatred and pain and death and misunderstanding.
Misunderstanding.
Yggdra's heart clenched, and she squared her shoulders. She had to put a stop to this, now, before it ended badly.
But even as she made her way carefully through the combatants towards the Great Temple, Milanor finished off the enemy he was fighting and made for Gulcasa and Nessiah's tight dance in a headlong sprint. There was nothing but mad fury in his eyes.
Gulcasa didn't see him. And Nessiah didn't notice him, either. At least not until it was too late.
There was a flash of silver and a cry of pain that all but stopped Yggdra's heart, and then Milanor was skidding to a halt and Nessiah was falling in a tumble of tattered robes and chains and blood, hitting one of the pillars hard and lying still.
Everyone froze.
The golems and skeletons so many members of the Royal Army had been fighting fell apart, and the controlled souls' eyes went blank as they vanished into the air.
The only sound was the pained sob of Nessiah's breath from where he lay, and the fall of Milanor's boots as he stalked towards the injured sorcerer.
"This," the thief said through gritted teeth as he readied his blade, "is for what you tried to do to Kylier…!"
Yggdra forced herself past paralysis and began to walk forward, then run. Her throat was too dry for speech, and she didn't think she'd make it in time, but she had to try—
"Stop!"
And Kylier was there, blocking Milanor's path with her arms outstretched and a terrified kind of defiance on her face.
Milanor stopped.
"What—Kylier, what the hell are you doing? Get outta the way!"
"No way! What do you think you're going to do with that? I won't let you hurt him anymore! Just look at him! You've done enough!"
Milanor looked both confused and angry. "But—I can't just let him off, after what he did to you…! Did you forget so fast that he was gonna use you to try to kill us, and that he was screwing around in your head?!"
"No—that's why I'm standing here, you stupid moron!" Kylier shrieked. She still looked shaken from her previous ordeal, but there were angry spots of color in her cheeks and angrier tears in her eyes. "The things I saw—are you gonna do the same to him? Are you gonna stand there, and pretend that what he did to me justifies this, when so much bad has happened to him already? Milanor, what the hell is going through your thick head?! That would make you worse, don't you get it?! That would make you worse than him or anyone else you've ever thought was bad! I won't let you hurt him!"
Milanor just stared at her and didn't say anything.
In the abyssal silence, there was a weak jangle, and everyone turned to see that Nessiah was struggling to regain his feet, shaking badly and gritting his teeth against the pain. He fell once, then again, but refused to give up and lie still, pushing himself up and finally gripping the ridged pillar behind him to get to his feet.
Even then, he trembled so from weakness that he seemed as though he might fall over at any moment, and blood continued to soak his torn robes, splattering on the stone tiles of the temple steps.
"Th-this… can't… I-I can't… n-not here… not now…" He shook his head, and his chains clanked dully. "I won't… lose… h-here… I-I won't… let it… happen… like this…"
But Nessiah was much too weak to stay standing with the amount of blood he was losing, and his legs buckled and gave out, sending him pitching towards the stairs.
Gulcasa was there in one flying leap, pulling Nessiah into his arms just in time to save him from the brutal tumble. In gentle movements, he settled the fallen angel into the crook of his arm and knelt carefully.
Still, Nessiah tried to get up, hooking his fingers around the edges of Gulcasa's armor and straining. "I-I… won't…"
"Stay put," Gulcasa said in a low growl. "If you keep pushing yourself now, you're just going to die… figure out your damn limits for once, will you?"
"Yes," Yggdra told him softly. Milanor, Kylier, and Gulcasa all looked up—none of them had noticed that she'd come this way. "Please—don't hurt yourself any further. You may be an angel, and you may have hundreds of years of hatred built up, but I'm afraid you'll never be able to defeat us, no matter how strongly you feel."
"What are you…?" Nessiah managed to get out between ragged breaths.
"It's… because we love this world," Yggdra said simply. "It's not a perfect world, we know. It's a very damaged world… and sometimes it's a very cruel and uncaring one. But it's our world, and we intend to change it for the better. Each one of us represents a part of this world that desires change, and… together, we are this world. It may not be a kind place, but it's our responsibility to see that it becomes one. No matter how hot your fury burns—no matter how justified your actions might be—as long as you endanger this world, our responsibility and our love will keep you from doing it."
Nessiah seemed to stare at her for a long time before his expression twisted into a bitter smile and he began to laugh.
"…Is that… so…? Feh… there's a word… for what you're telling me… and that's 'idealism'. There's… no fault with the philosophy, but… they're called ideals because… they're a theoretical possibility… that will never be achieved. Perfection… peace… altruism. Pretty words… pretty theories… and good luck with… seeing any of them fulfilled."
"If we think that, then they never will be fulfilled," Yggdra said firmly. "And we must still try. All we can do is our best."
Nessiah continued to laugh until he was seized with a paroxysm of coughing that left him so weak he could only shudder and moan with pain.
"I don't intend to use this sword ever again, but…" Yggdra glanced down at the Gran Centurio, then back at Nessiah. "I'm sorry. I can't give it back to you. This world would only be drawn into your war, and it can't stand any more battle. We need time to heal, time to rebuild, time to establish true peace. If there's really any power in my blood, and in my friends… then we'll use it to make a world of love, a world with no more war."
"A world… without war…" Nessiah shook his head, and shuddered. "There was someone once… with dreams of peace… as pretty as yours, Queen Yggdra. He tried… as hard as he could… but before he could even… really begin…" He shook his head again, smiling bitterly. "See what's become of him, all of you."
"Whatever happened in the past, you don't have to suffer from it forever," Yggdra pleaded, climbing the steps to kneel before Gulcasa. "Please… come with us. Try to help us make peace now. I know you can… and the more there are who try, the sooner it will come to pass…"
"It's… too late for that," Nessiah said.
"It's never too late—"
"It… is too late…," he repeated, cutting her off. "Soon now… soon now, I'll sleep again… soon now, I'll have a respite from… the stupidity and cruelty… of this world…"
Yggdra didn't expect her eyes to fill so sharply, so suddenly. "No…"
Weakly, Nessiah reached up and brushed his fingertips over Gulcasa's face. His smile was sad now, and somehow more genuine. "At least… at least I was able to see you once more…" A sadder, almost pathetic little laugh. "You've grown up… a lot since then… Your armor finally… fits you now…"
Gulcasa bowed his head. "Nessiah…"
"I'm sorry…" Nessiah rested his cheek against Gulcasa's breastplate with a faint metallic sound. "I didn't… want you to be involved… I couldn't… fight you… didn't want you to… matter this much, but… but I want you to know…" He coughed, cleared his throat, and went on in a slightly stronger voice. "I want you to know… that the brief time I had with you… I think… I think I was finally able to discover… what 'happiness' means… I-I… I really was… happy when I was with you. Thank you."
"Nessiah…" Gulcasa shook his head. "Nessiah, you idiot… why didn't you ever tell us? You could have talked to us—we would have fought for you, if only we'd known! You should've told us!"
Yggdra looked on in a kind of awe. Gulcasa had gone to so much effort to stifle his tears before that she was sure he didn't realize how his voice was bent with emotion, or that he'd been crying for the past minute or so.
Nessiah rested his hand on Gulcasa's cheek again, then turned with an effort. "You… Undine girl—I have something… to tell you."
"Huh? You mean Nietzsche?" the girl yelped, pointing to herself in surprise.
"There's… a freshwater spring… nearby," Nessiah said. "There's… something that belongs to you… there. Take it. I'd meant… to give it back, but… it seems as though I won't have the chance…"
Nietzsche looked confused, but she still nodded.
There was a brief silence that was only broken by the ragged edge of Nessiah's breathing.
"Gulcasa." His voice was much softer, much weaker now.
"Yes?"
"I want you to… do me one last thing."
"Anything."
"Give me… a clean end… and when it's over… take me back inside the temple. You'll know where, it's… hard to miss…"
Gulcasa paled visibly. "What are you—no. I can't do that, Nessiah…"
"Gulcasa, please."
He shook his head violently. "You can't put this on me. I can't do this. Nessa…"
"Gulcasa, please." Nessiah lay still for a while. "This could… take hours… I'm in pain, and I can feel myself… getting closer and closer… I hate that feeling… so, please. I just want… this to be over… I'm so tired… I need to… sleep…"
Gulcasa leaned down and rested his forehead to Nessiah's, closing his eyes. "Do you really want this?" he asked hoarsely.
"Please," Nessiah repeated.
"…" Gulcasa straightened up, and he looked broken, as though too great a weight had been laid upon his shoulders. "…Alright."
He'd laid his scythe down in order to better cradle Nessiah; now he reached back to lift it again, carefully positioning the tip of the blade over his friend's chest. He hesitated, shuddering slightly, until Nessiah reached up to place one pale hand over the back of his gauntlet, tugging weakly but insistently.
Wearing a look that clearly said he'd hate himself for this forever, Gulcasa pushed the scythe down quickly, then drew it back. Nessiah flinched when it went in and gave a thin gasp of pain when it was pulled out, but as a new rush of blood began to rapidly soak his chest, his expression relaxed, and he whispered something that seemed like gratitude.
Gulcasa just put on his most stubborn expression and shook his head.
Yggdra had watched this exchange and known better than to intrude even when she'd thought she couldn't keep silent, but when Nessiah turned to reach out to her, she readily clutched his hand in both her own. She didn't fully understand what was happening here—without knowing why Nessiah was doing this, maybe she never would. All she understood was that despite what he'd done to them, this was Gulcasa's friend dying and it was ripping Gulcasa apart. And that just because Nessiah was dear to Gulcasa, she would have saved him if she could.
"You said… that your wish for peace… was what conquered my hatred," Nessiah said, and shuddered. "Then… you work towards this fabled world of peace…" His voice was getting fainter, and Yggdra had to lean in to hear him clearly. "We will see… we will see what kind of future… reflects upon… these blind… e-eyes…"
After that, he was silent. A few moments later, his cheek dropped to Gulcasa's breastplate, and his fingers slackened in Yggdra's hands. When she let go, his arm fell to the tile in a clatter of chains, and a cold pall crossed her soul as she understood. It was over.
Gulcasa whispered "Nessiah, you fool" and stayed where he was for another moment, then gathered Nessiah's body close to his chest and stood, turning towards the interior of the temple.
Yggdra stood up, too, grabbing a fistful of his cloak when he took his first step. He glanced back at her with empty eyes, and she shook her head. "I'll go with you," she told him. "You shouldn't do this alone…"
"…if you want." Gulcasa turned away.
Yggdra nodded, and glanced back at her silent forces. "Everyone… just wait outside. We'll decide what to do next when this is… when we're done."
She knew they'd do as she said, so she didn't wait to see. She just followed as Gulcasa stalked moodily into the temple.
The interior was empty, empty and cold but for blue-white fire snapping in torch sconces. But there were stairs where there should've been an altar, leading deep into the island. Gulcasa walked down them, and Yggdra followed him.
The stairs continued for quite a while, and something about them reminded Yggdra of the altar at Welheim where she'd been crowned. These led down instead of up, but they seemed to go on forever, too.
Finally, she and Gulcasa reached a room deep, deep within the island. It was a small chamber for a place like this, perhaps forty feet by twenty, and it was as spare as the rest of the temple, lit by the same strange cold fire.
But at the center of this room there was a bier, and upon the bier there was a glass coffin. It lay open and didn't seem to have a lid, and the white sheets within were stained with centuries' worth of blood. It was obvious that this was the place Nessiah had meant for them to leave him.
And on the wall opposite the stairs, there was a figure chained to the wall.
A statue, Yggdra thought. Some part of the temple, it had to be. Until she saw the figure's chest shifting and was forced to realize that this was a person, a living person.
Cruel gold shackles on his ankles and wrists, wide gold loops of chain wound around every part of his body, fixing him flat to the wall so that he wouldn't hang forward and crush his inner organs as though crucified. Old, rotted clothes that could've been anything from royal finery to prisoner's garb in their better days. Another gold band tight around his neck, and a blood-blotched blindfold across his face. Dried blood streaked over his cheeks like old macabre tearstains. And blood—some old, some fresh—seeped down the wall behind him to the floor beneath him, so that the spaces between the tiles of the floor here were veined with brownish red. He was rail-thin and seemed suspended in fevered sleep, held only an inch or two off the floor. Cruel bruises spread across his body, marks of a beating or beatings past. He'd been here long; his dirty-blond hair had grown out to trail along the floor.
Nessiah had mentioned something about his real body being within the island. Yggdra hadn't understood it when he'd said it. She was pretty sure she did now.
She wasn't sure how long she and Gulcasa stood there, transfixed by horror and outrage at this inhumane treatment, before they remembered why they were in this place to begin with and returned their attention with an effort to Nessiah's body. Or what they now knew was the makeshift form that protected his soul, an imitation and no more.
Gulcasa drew in one pained breath and walked forward in heavy steps, stopping at the side of the coffin to gently lay Nessiah down there. He took his time, carefully arranging the fallen angel's bloodied robes and teasing his hair into order. Even when he was done, he stood staring down at his friend's body for a long time before he leaned down to press a light kiss to Nessiah's forehead.
"Nessiah… Nessa. I won't forget this. I won't forget you. I'll never, ever forget."
When he turned back towards Yggdra, Gulcasa's eyes were glittering again. Yggdra didn't mention it, and stood still as he headed back onto the stairs, waiting for him to make his way up towards the surface before she crossed the room herself in slow steps.
This was the man who'd forged her sword, and forged her destiny along with it. He seemed to have had a lot to do with the events of the war… maybe more than she would ever know. He had wanted to change things in the heavens, to get revenge for what had been done to him and make sure nothing like it would happen again. And he'd been Gulcasa's friend, and they'd cared for each other very much.
Yggdra hadn't known him for very long, but—there'd been something about him that had pulled her, even so. He'd left so many unanswered questions, but she would do her best to patch together the answers. She hadn't been able to save him, but she wouldn't give up on trying to understand him.
So in the end, she only touched his shoulder—there was still some warmth in his skin, she realized with a start—and bowed her head to whisper, "Have some good dreams while you sleep…" before she turned and chased after Gulcasa.
:owari: