Author Notes:

-I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

Chapter 13: Alone
The priests had left, leaving Cherche and Lon'qu alone with the dying wyvern. Now barely moving, only the crimson lines running through her body were proof of her earlier crisis. Ignoring the pain running through her body, the woman had found herself on her knees, embracing the body of Minerva without even realizing it. Over her shoulder, the warm yet irregular breath of her friend was flowing on her neck, a meager solace for the woman's distress.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart," Cherche sobbed, pressing her face against the creature's rough scales moistened by her flowing tears. Minerva's torso was softly moving up and down as Cherche caressed her sides, the wyvern peacefully breathing despite her condition. A rising tingling sensation on the right hand of the woman interrupted the embrace, causing her to move back ever so slightly. Confused, she glanced at her hand and the spot she had been stroking, right above one of the lines coursing the body of the wyvern. Her palm, marked by a thin red discoloration, was throbbing with acute pain. A shiver ran down Cherche's spine: if she had managed to burn herself while only touching one of the crimson narrow marks, she could only imagine how her friend was feeling. Clutching her hand to ignore the pain, the knight lifted her head and met the concerned gaze of Minerva.

"Silly... how can you even worry about me in a time like this?" she cried, lowering her head in defeat. She made no efforts to wipe the tears flowing down her face, dropping on her knees. Maybe trying to comfort her, the wyvern extended her neck forward and gently nudged the woman's cheek with her nose.

"You have always been so kind, it's unfair. Why did this have to happen to you?" Cherche lamented, letting her friend's pushes go unanswered. Moving her head back, Minerva stared at the silent swordsman observing in silence from the corner of the shelter before letting out a weak yell that could almost have been mistaken for a purr.

"Glad we both are safe? What good is this if I can't be with you anymore."

Minerva gave no answer, instead dragging the woman closer with light pushes from her head. Not resisting her, Cherche let the wyvern bring her in a tender embrace. She was her most trusted friend, the one that was always by her side no matter how she felt. Ever since they met, they had been watching over each other as they grew and trained together. To lose her now, while Rosanne was occupied and most of her friends gone, would be a blow she knew she wouldn't recover from.

Her perception of the outside world was gone, the flow of time replaced by a stream of tears. Holding on Minerva for dear life, fearing her friend would be gone if she let go, she felt the breath of the wyvern go slower and slower. Her pulse was weak. Her warmth, gone. Barely moving at first, Minerva went immobile, her head growing heavy on the knight's shoulder.

"Hey, Minerva. Please… Don't do this," Cherche called out, her voice trembling from worry. The knight's call remained unanswered, Minerva going limp between her arms. Her whole body shivering, Cherche gently grabbed the wyvern by the chin and moved back to observe her, only to see her eyes close slowly. Suddenly, the head of her companion grew heavy in her hands, too heavy for the rider to be able to support its weight anymore. Unceremoniously, the wyvern fell to the ground, its once powerful muscles helpless to carry her body. On her flanks, the crimson lines had stopped shimmering and were gradually losing their intensity, a pale yet cruel remained of her ordeal. One last time, her mouth opened, letting out a short and final breath.

"Minerva… Come on, stop joking around," Cherche weakly protested, hastily rising to her feet. Her surroundings spun as she stood, the world transforming into an indiscernible blur. Closing her eyes in a futile effort to focus, her knees gave way and she collapsed. Surprisingly, the fall didn't hurt. In fact, she didn't feel anything.

"This is enough, Cherche. You need to rest," a voice called from above her.

The knight grunted, confused, before opening her eyes. Above was Lon'qu, peering into her eyes as he held her in his powerful arms. No wonder the fall didn't hurt, she hadn't even touched the ground in the first place.

"I'm bringing you to the infirmary," Lon'qu declared as he gently pulled her back to her feet. Despite his claim, his hands lingered on her shoulders, obviously reluctant to leave her on her own.

"Can you stand on her own?" he asked, a brief crack of his voice hinting at his concern.

"I…" Cherche started, a knot in her throat preventing her from finishing her sentence.

Minerva was gone, leaving her alone for the first time in years. She lifted her head to meet the swordsman's look, tears welling up inside her eyes. He had remained all this time watching over her in silence as she bid farewell to her friend. It was to save him that she ordered Minerva to intervene, taking the brunt of the foul magic for her sake. It was because of her that the wyvern suffered for so long, to protect her own selfish interests that she ultimately died. Unable to hold it anymore, she gracelessly fell forward, burying the side of her head against his torso. Tears that she thought long dried rushed down her cheeks as she kept on crying.

"This is all my fault," she sobbed uncontrollably, too weak to even raise her arms and hold on Lon'qu's body.

The strong man's arms wrapped tighter around her shoulders and the back of her head, his body the only anchor keeping her standing on her feet. Whether he agreed or not with her laments, Lon'qu remained silent, stiffly holding the woman close to him as she cried to her heart's content. Powerless to save anyone, the bloody war kept taking away from her her friends, leaving her broken and lonely. She quivered harder, losing control of both mind and body. First Delion and her companions in Castle Virion, now Minerva, everyone close to her died one after another. While her first loss was due to her own weakness, this time she had nothing to blame for her friend's death but her own command.

Cherche did not know how long she wept, losing tracks of her own thoughts as she gave in to grief and despair. It was only as she slowly came to her senses, too spent to let out a single sob, that she realized he had been holding her the whole time without a single word of protest while she was thrashing in his arms. Embarrassed, she bit her lower lip and looked to the side, only to see the body of Minerva. Hurriedly closing her eyes, she moved a few steps back, freeing herself from the grasp of the swordsman.

"I'm sorry. Can we go? I can't.. I cannot bear to stay here any longer."

"Let's. I will help you back to the infirmary," he spoke while offering his arm. Cherche grabbed it without hesitation with both her hands, barely noticing the man's shoulders going stiff as she clung to him.

"Are you ready?" Lon'qu asked, throwing a fleeting glance in her direction.

"Y-yes. Let's just go, please," she pleaded. Without waiting for an answer, she took a first step forward, quickly followed by Lon'qu at her side. Focusing on the door, the knight forced herself not to look behind her. She couldn't give her friend a last look, lest she would break again. As they left, Cherche spotted Libra waiting outside the building. As they passed him, he bowed his head before entering Minerva's final resting place.

One day had passed since the passing of the wyvern. Or rather, a night, filled with anguish and nightmares. The timid morning sun had only now begun to rise, its meager rays a poor comfort against the brisk, cold breeze of the nearby ocean. On a cliff close to the edge of the camp, Chrom, the Shepherds and several soldiers of the Ylissean army had gathered around the massive grave dug for Minerva. Cherche appreciated the time the Ylissean prince set aside to hold the burial, despite the raging war. Further away from the camp, she had been told the Khans Basilio and Flavia were attending to the burials of the many fallen soldiers of the Feroxi's army, severely hit by the Valmese mages during the landing.

Cherche stood in front of the grave, the joints of her right hand whitening as she tightened her grip on the wooden stick she used as a crutch. Standing on a makeshift platform stood Libra and Chrom, speaking words of condolences and encouragements that she paid little to no attention to. Patiently, she waited, staring at the curled up body of her friend in the pit. Peaceful even in death, part of her wished only to join the wyvern, that she would never have to be alone again. Her tears were long gone, her distress replaced with an empty, surreal feeling.

"Do not think of this as a farewell, for in time we will all meet again in the kingdom of the Gods. Until then, if you have anything to tell Minerva, do so now or wait for the day you will be reunited with her."

Cherche rose her head, meeting the insistent gaze of the priest looking at her from the small platform. Still slightly confused, she lowered her eyes to her left hand. In her grasp was her winged helmet, crafted and given to her the day of her knighting. As the first and only wyvern of Rosanne, the tailored metal helmet was a symbol of her bond with Minerva.

Raising her head once again, the knight clenched her jaw as she walked forward. She couldn't afford to flinch, not now, not while everyone was looking at her expectandly. There was nothing to say, not anymore. She had already bid her friend farewell last night, painfully so. Clenching her wooden cane harder, the knight dropped the helmet in the grave. It landed with a small thump on the soft ground below, right in front of Minerva's head. Without a word, she turned, briefly shutting down her eyes to prevent any tears from forming. She couldn't cry, not again. Now alone, left to her own after relying all these years on Minerva, Cherche had to be strong if she was to keep going. A small limp hindering her march, she returned to her position, forcing herself to keep her chin up. Next to her, Lon'qu exited the audience to take her spot near the grave, giving the knight a small nod of encouragement as she passed her. He stopped in front of the pit, keeping a stern face as he looked at the wyvern below.

"I shall not forget your sacrifice, for it is the sole reason I am still standing today. I owe my life to you, and for this in return I vow to protect everything you were fighting for," the swordsman declared, then going back to his spot next to Cherche.

A faint blush crept on the woman's cheeks as Lon'qu returned, that she forced away by keeping her stare right in front of her. Maybe, just maybe, she was not as alone as she initially thought.

Here it is, this time not as late as the previous chapter. I've slowly been picking up my usual writing rythm back, and I hope I to deliver the next chapter ever quicker next time.

Minerva's death might come as a shock, but this is something I've been planning since the very beginning. I believe it will prove to change the story's dynamics in a positive way, and I hope you will enjoy what's to come next. Until next time, reader!