Dum Spiro Spero
See disclaimer in part 1
After all the chaos and worry they'd been put through in Fantasinia, the journey back to Bronquia was refreshingly uneventful. They spent two nights in Karona and an afternoon in Ishnad, and from there meandered their way through the Bronquian countryside, visiting villages here or there, lending a hand wherever one was needed—the former Royal Army, and not just Gulcasa, Zilva, and Nessiah. The idea was that all of them together should work to undo the damage the war had left on the countryside; providing a united front made it easier to do that.
Besides, it helped the civilians who'd been worst hurt by Fantasinia to overcome their remaining prejudices. It was hard to dislike the one who brought medicines for your sick grandparent or child and fixed the holes in your roof so it wouldn't leak. It was hard to hold anything against the people who brought in game to be cooked and eaten. And it was easier to understand someone if you knew him on personal terms.
No one who had fought for Fantasinia was willing to go near Bardot. Understanding that, Gulcasa led them around the village when they came to it.
The lot of them were camped outside Drominos, working to bring provisions in for the marshland villagers, when Luciana and Aegina found them.
The twin swordswomen were decked out in their full ceremonial armor, and accompanied by a full squadron of female soldiers each, complete with a flagbearer. While their company stopped once they'd reached the alliance's encampment, Luciana and Aegina themselves marched right on without pausing, making a beeline straight for the circle of tents and stacked firewood where Gulcasa, Nessiah, Yggdra, and a few of the others were discussing the next batch of supplies to be sent. Hearing the buzz of curious voices in that particular direction, Gulcasa looked up—and the color drained from his face.
Nessiah was close enough to hear him mutter "Oh, shit" before Luciana strode up to him in a right state and jabbed her finger in his face.
"What the hell is the big idea?" she snarled. "You go off saying there won't be any trouble and not to worry like the only thing we have to be concerned about is that damn princess, and next thing we know, we're getting these garbled messages about you getting kidnapped by angels and Shorehold trying to kill you again and some kind of Brongaa histrionics and—"
"Hello to you, too, Luciana," Gulcasa said with a sigh. She ignored him, going right on with her rant.
"—and spending days laid up in bed and all these grand-scale battles, and you—"
Everyone else present just watched in amazed silence; after a few minutes, Nessiah turned to Aegina, who hadn't yet said a word.
"Can't you do something about her?" he asked.
Aegina shook her head. "Once she gets going, there's really nothing anyone can do…"
Nessiah turned back towards Luciana—who was now advancing on Gulcasa, one step for each accusing stab of her finger into his chest, as he backed away awkwardly—and decided he believed it.
"S-so… hello, everyone," Aegina offered with an awkward little smile, to the titters of the audience. "I-I know this may be sudden, but when we heard you were nearby, my sister and I decided to come out to meet you. Even if that… hasn't really gone quite as we originally planned it…"
"—and you didn't even think to send word back here for help—" Luciana screeched.
"What kept Emilia, then?" Nessiah asked, turning his back on the irate valkyrie and her target so he wouldn't have to keep looking at the awkward expression on Gulcasa's face.
"We had to leave someone in charge of things, after all, and she has a pregnant griffon she wanted to look after," Aegina explained, and giggled. "Also, I—think she's trying to avoid hurting your feelings… her fifteenth birthday's not far off, and she's been shooting up like a weed these past few months."
"Oh, gods." Nessiah covered his face in both hands. "How much?"
"Two and a half inches," Aegina said almost meekly. Nessiah groaned; a few people in the crowd giggled, and someone patted Nessiah's shoulder sympathetically.
It was really only to be expected—height seemed to run in Brongaa's line, after all—but that didn't make Nessiah feel any better. Gods, at this rate the only person who'd stay shorter than him was Nietzsche.
"Anyway—I really am glad that you're all okay," Aegina went on, and Nessiah looked up with an effort. "I never expected for you to have to keep your promise under circumstances like these, but… I don't know how to thank you for keeping my brother safe."
Nessiah shook his head, embarrassed. "I-I didn't really… he still got into quite a bit of trouble anyway, and I certainly wasn't the only one who helped get him out of it…"
"—so if you happen to have any great excuses, now might be the time to trot 'em out!" Luciana finished, and planted her hands on her hips, waiting and fuming.
There was a short silence.
"First, let me say—ouch—I think I may have gone temporarily deaf—" Gulcasa closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers over his ears, evoking more crowd giggles and making Luciana hiss at him. He shook his head twice as though trying to clear it, and then settled his hands on her shoulders. "But more importantly—I'm sorry for worrying you."
Luciana blinked, flushed, and made a face.
According to the twins, life in Bronquia had been downright uneventful since Gulcasa and Nessiah had left. With the coming of spring, the people of the local villages and what remained of the Imperial Army had gotten right back to their all-consuming project of reconstructing Flarewerk and Castle Bronquia. Aegina reported that although truly repairing the Arc of Triumph would be some time in coming, the outer districts of the city just inside what remained of its wall were already complete. Civilians had started moving back in, with farmers working what was left of the fields and merchants reestablishing their trades.
"You Fantasinians better be ready to put your backs into it too," Luciana snapped, giving the former Royal Army in general a jaundiced glare.
"That's kinda half the reason we're here," Milanor had the audacity to point out. She threw a rock at him.
Back when the reconstruction had only just begun, Gulcasa had made the decision that although soldiers would move back into Flarewerk along with civilians, he and his family would stay in the village that sheltered them until the city was rebuilt. They would only move back in for real when Castle Bronquia was in a suitable state of repair—and the castle was last on the reconstruction list.
"The civilians need their homes and lives back more," Gulcasa explained with a shrug, as though it were obvious. "My sisters and I? We're fine where we are. We spent years learning how to pick up and plant ourselves anywhere, and our stations won't change depending on where we happen to be in Bronquia."
Perhaps it was the absence of some of those refugees; perhaps it was just that he'd grown used to the castle cities of Paltina and Karona. For whatever reason, Nessiah found himself thinking how quiet and lonely the village looked when their party arrived there. He wondered at that thought once he'd had it, shaking his head at himself. The commanders of the Royal Army were here. Luciana and Aegina were here. The villagers might be content to go about their lives peacefully, but no matter their surroundings, their visitors couldn't help supplying high drama wherever they went. Even if the village were quiet now, it wouldn't stay that way.
As if to add punctuation to that thought, there was a happy squeal from the direction of the village main, and Nessiah spotted Emilia trotting up to meet them.
Usually, the girl wore elaborate gothic lolita dresses and petticoats, plain leather over less fanciful costumes for griffon work, or some form of armor combined with either if she intended to fight. At the moment, Emilia was dressed down considerably in a worn-looking jerkin over cotton shirt and breeches, with her hair falling loose down her back. Her sleeves were shoved up, and her hands and face looked like they'd been hastily scrubbed.
She made a beeline for Gulcasa and all but tackled him, squeezing him tightly for all of ten or twenty seconds before shouting a breathless "hello" to the other visitors, and running to come hug Nessiah. He stiffened a little when she did, but forced himself to relax. Enough forcing, and that little flinch and bristle wouldn't be reflex anymore.
Nessiah refused to consider how long that might take.
"We heard about everything," Emilia told him. "Thank you for working so hard to keep my brother safe."
Embarrassed again, Nessiah tried to protest, but Emilia drew back and lightly smacked his forehead when he did.
"Don't be like that, you silly Nessiah! Everybody worked really hard, but you're the one who was risking the most."
She seemed—a lot more sure of herself than Nessiah remembered. Was it just the inch and a half she now topped him by, or the time she'd spent keeping her sisters in hand while he and Gulcasa had been away? He wasn't sure, and knew he couldn't ask her directly.
When he didn't protest again, she turned back towards everyone else. "There's room for everybody in the refugees' houses and the empty rooms where we've been staying. Wanna get moved in now and worry about everything else later, or…?"
"We'll set our things in order now, and thank you," Yggdra replied, speaking for everyone. "If your brother and I are to reach Shorehold tomorrow, we'll need to get our rest early."
"Aww, you're not even gonna stay here and unwind at all before you do?"
"We can't stand by and leave them be any longer," Gulcasa said flatly. "They've already tried to kill me twice. We have to do something about them before they get aspirations again, and they'll listen to Yggdra. We'll only be taking a few with us, but it means we need to hit the hay early and get an equally early start."
"I guess that makes sense…" Emilia drew the words out and tucked her chin a little, staring up at him reproachfully.
"We want to make sure we're here for the festival preparations, too," he added. "So we don't have much choice—we don't know how long talking them around is going to take."
"Since when did you get all responsible…?" Luciana grumbled from somewhere behind them. Someone, presumably Aegina, hushed her quickly.
"We-e-e-e-ell, come on and we'll get you set up then," Emilia said with a shrug. She turned, made a beckoning gesture with her arm, and led them through the village roads towards the slightly undersized mansion Nessiah had left—gods, was it really only a few months ago? It felt like it had been years since.
"You're awfully underdressed for the occasion," he heard Gulcasa remark as they walked.
Emilia reached up and punched him in the shoulder. "I didn't exactly have much advance notice, you know!" She laughed, though. "Make sure you don't give anybody my room, 'kay? I have to get going again in a couple minutes."
"Why—oh, right, that griffon of yours. She's due to give birth tonight, then?"
"Nope, she dropped the litter a couple hours ago—they're real cute. I just wanna make sure everything's okay with them all before I do anything else."
At the edge of his field of vision, Nessiah noticed Kylier's expression darken and her walk slow. As he turned towards her, though, she shook her head minutely and forced normalcy back across her features, quickening her pace again.
"Huh. Still, that was pretty late. Is that why…?"
"Well, that and I just wanna be there. Wasn't it the same with you and Bella, every time she got knocked up?"
Gulcasa's dragon made a low whuffing sound; he turned to her with a scowl.
"Oh, don't you start looking at me like that now. I couldn't have taken you into battle if you'd been pregnant, and you'd be damn miserable right now if you were. And what about all those times you were so eager to have babies and completely forgot what a pain they are?"
She stretched out her neck and clamped her jaws around his arm; he yelled and swatted her lightly on the muzzle.
"You don't have to bite me!"
She snorted as if she were disagreeing with him, and Emilia laughed. Their conversation turned to other things, and Nessiah saw Kylier relax.
Later that night, once Roswell and Nessiah were well settled into Nessiah's room, the angel brought up what he'd seen.
"What do you intend to do about it?" Roswell asked when he was finished. When Nessiah looked at him—he wasn't sure he'd given the impression he wanted to act—his lover just shrugged. "Knowing you, I'm sure you have some kind of plan. If you didn't want to meddle, I'd have to start worrying about possible blows to your head."
Deciding to let the gentle dig pass, Nessiah shook his head. "That's just the thing—I don't know what to do. Kylier knows me as well as you do; she'll expect me to meddle, and won't grab any bait I might dangle. I just… I know how determined she is to punish herself, but I don't think I can go on seeing her miserable. It's damn weird seeing her miserable, since she's spent so long acting as my, my constant self-esteem booster."
Roswell smiled and leaned to kiss the nape of Nessiah's neck, resting both hands on his shoulders and rubbing them in gentle circular movements.
"Just relax right now. I know you want to help her—you'll be able to think more easily if you aren't so tense. Don't worry. I know you'll think of something."
Nessiah leaned back against Roswell, giving up for the time being. "I wish I had half the faith in me that you do."
Roswell chuckled.
By the time the two of them made their way downstairs and outside, Gulcasa and Yggdra had already departed. They'd taken Luciana and Aegina with them, along with Durant, Mistel, and both their sets of bodyguards.
Everyone else was enjoying their breakfast, or at least seemed to be. Nietzsche was happily chattering to a few of the villagers, with Pamela and Cruz interjecting remarks of their own, and Emilia was pestering Russell and Flone about something or other. There were open spots near Gulcasa's youngest sister, so Nessiah was steering Roswell towards them when Emilia turned towards Kylier, redirecting the conversation in a heartbeat.
"Hey, you wanna come in with me and help out with the griffons? I can trust you to actually be competent with 'em, after all—"
Kylier's shoulders went up. Her spine fused. Seeing it, even from a distance, Nessiah's did too—and something cold and hard settled inside him, despite the gentle arm Roswell had slipped around his shoulders.
"No," Kylier blurted with an abrupt kind of vehemence.
"Huuuuuuuuuuh?" Emilia scowled at the Vanir, tilting her head to the side and folding her arms. "They're the same as the griffons you've got at Lost Aries, so you don't have to get all snobby an'—"
Kylier's expression was very cold, almost masklike, as she stood up.
"I don't do that anymore," she said simply, and walked off.
Nessiah was only a few paces behind her before he even realized that he'd left Roswell's side. "Kylier, wait—don't just walk off like that! This would be good for you, you have to see that—"
"Just shut it, will you?" she snapped, not even turning to face him. "It's not a matter of things being good or bad for me—it's about honor and responsibility and—"
"Kylier, just—" Nessiah began helplessly. He had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he was trying to say, other than the fact that he had to do something to get Kylier to face up to what was an essential part of her.
"Just nothing! Ness, I know you mean well, and I know I might get to like working with Emilia and everything! But I don't deserve to call myself a griffon breeder after what I did to Al!"
Nessiah didn't know what he could say. He'd gotten through receiving an imprint of her memories without a hitch, but that one—that one out of all of them had actually given him a few vivid nightmares.
At the battle for the Arc of Triumph, the ancestral gates to the city of Flarewerk, the Royal Army had been all but stymied by the thick guard Gulcasa had placed there—and the barrage of the two Ankhs Nessiah had created to destabilize Verlaine. The late Court Magister, Eudy, had fused them to a cannon in an extremely unstable, combustive force of magic and chemistry. That kind of thing had always been her specialty; she'd been the kind of woman who was infatuated with any kind of pyrotechnics. And she'd devastated Yggdra and her troops with it.
From what Nessiah had heard, the army had bunched up to protect Roswell so that he could try to fight it, to dismantle it by magic. He'd succeeded in destroying one of the Ankhs, but the effort had nearly killed him. Rosary had still hoped to claim the remaining Ankh, and Pamela's magic was too untrained—so Eudy had continued raining magical hell on them until Kylier arrived.
And Kylier—well, her solution had been a real winner. Concluding that there was no other way to get the Royal Army (and more importantly, Milanor) into Flarewerk alive, she'd recklessly attacked the magical cannon itself. The explosion resulting from the collapse of Eudy's intricate system had blown a huge hole in the Arc of Triumph, badly wounding many of the troops there. It had killed Eudy, and nearly killed Kylier, too. What had saved her was that her griffon mount had been between her and the full force of the blast—he'd taken the magic and the shrapnel that would've claimed her life.
Kylier had been in and out of consciousness for a long time afterwards, but one of the first things she'd seen after the explosion had been her griffon's mangled body. The memory was terribly vivid, and the grief it carried along with the amount of damage always made Nessiah feel very ill.
"He was mine since before he was even born," Kylier said, her voice choked with tears. "We went through everything together. Everything. And I repaid him by making him die that way… what kind of griffon rider am I if that's what I do to my partner, an animal that I've conditioned to trust me completely?"
"…Kylier…" Gods, what could he say? What could he say to stanch this emotional hemorrhage, to heal her wounds as she'd healed his? "He must have known what he was doing, as much as you did. His life was worth something. It wasn't just spent in vain…"
"No matter how much I tell myself that, though…" Kylier shook his head. "No matter how much I tell myself that, I know I'm not worthy of working with griffons ever again. How could I be? How could I ever be?"
"You don't need to punish yourself like—" Nessiah began helplessly. Kylier raised a hand and cut him off, shaking her head.
"Yes. Yes, I do. And I understand that you've only got my best interests at heart, but I'm not going to let you stick your nose in. This isn't yours, this isn't ours—it's mine. I have to deal with it by myself."
She walked off. Nessiah stayed where he was, hardly even able to watch her go through the sharp and sudden pain in his chest.
Kylier had never outright rejected him like that before. And he didn't know what he was supposed to do now.
Gulcasa and Yggdra were back three days later, their entourage trailing behind them.
Nessiah knew things had gone well from the moment he noticed them meandering up the road. Their walk wasn't the tense march they'd left in, but a much more relaxed and informal amble; the Royal and Imperial banners were carried at easy angles instead of lifted strictly high. Their emotional atmosphere was saturated with relief; Nessiah watched it and probed its edges before sealing off his empathy again. Seeing as the story they bore was a happy one, they deserved to tell it for themselves.
And tell it they did, with relish, over the night's dinner.
"The fiefdom spotted us long before we actually made it there, of course, so they were up in arms by the time we got there, bristling their weapons at us and making a damn good effort at not looking terrified when they saw me heading the march," Gulcasa related, raising an eyebrow as he settled back in his chair. "Some of the younger soldiers looked like they were ready to just keel right over from fright, though—they weren't doing as good a job of pretending as their commanders were, and even they were about as pale as marble. We say we want to talk, and they basically told us to take our talk to hell with us. Which was when Yggdra came up from the inside of the formation and asked if the united embassy could be let through to parley."
Yggdra blushed and shook her head, but Gulcasa went right on.
"Well, the soldiers' eyes just about fell out of their heads, and you could tell they had no idea what to do or if this was some kind of bluff. Then some bright sentry pointed out the fact we were flying Fantasinia's flag along with Bronquia's, and they sent runners back to their noble higher-ups to ask what they were supposed to do now.
"The answer came back that Yggdra and her escort could be let through. Yggdra didn't exactly like that—she went right up to their messenger and told him in no uncertain terms that we were all her escort, like she and her men were mine. If we couldn't come in, she'd cool her heels outside too, and we weren't leaving until there were diplomatic discussions. I believe there were some implications that we'd resist if they tried to remove us—" there was laughter here from everyone who'd accompanied them. "Either way, there was some hemming and hawing out of Shorehold, until they finally decided to let just Yggdra, myself, and our personal guards through. We left the rest of the delegation outside with orders to bust through the defenses if it looked like there was any funny business, but to stop short of slaughter.
"I think the lord and lady Shorehold were the most apoplectic out of the lot—they were not happy having yours truly around, I'll tell you that; having Yggdra got us to them, though, and they were willing to listen to what she had to say."
"What I had to say—" Yggdra shook her head, growing redder and redder. "All I did was ask them to explain their feelings against you and your court from their beginnings, you were the one who really—"
Gulcasa shook his head, raising his eyes heavenwards. "All that aside, it turns out the major part of the squabble was that a dead ancestor of theirs and one of my own were on decidedly bad terms, something near to blood feud. So when Fantasinia came knocking during the last war, they volunteered their assistance readily, and kept hold of their expanded territory as a kind of justification when things went bad with my esteemed predecessor."
More laughter here.
"Turns out they actually harbored quite a few people with connections to the old blood when the purges started up—that was the real surprise. We didn't expect they'd actually given much of a damn, but they didn't like it when the innocents started suffering. They don't have anything against the management here, just against me—that blood feud again. Seems like they planned to take over, but keep things running basically the same as before."
Yggdra interrupted here, smiling brightly. "And then Gulcasa told them that he understood their grudge, but that he wasn't his great-grandfather and that they shouldn't look at him as if he was. That he was talking to them as their Emperor, and that they were part of Bronquia, the same as everyone else. That they were at risk along with the rest of the country, and that they needed to know like everyone else how much he'd done to keep them safe. That some of the things he'd done had their repercussions, too…"
Gulcasa shook his head. "They weren't exactly happy to hear about Brongaa deciding he'd rather have the land than his people, but I just think it helped them understand why it's a bad idea to poke at me, is all."
"The people of Shorehold didn't understand the Ritual of Soul Unbinding—what it was for, how it worked… or the risk it posed on all sides," Yggdra elaborated for him. "They were… the last people to know that despite their grudge, their stance, Gulcasa would still have sacrificed his life to protect them."
"Egh… long story made short, Shorehold found it in their hearts to quibble over a treaty with us, and although it may take a while for some of them to cool off in full, the hatchet is ostensibly buried." Gulcasa shrugged and folded his arms, looking distinctly embarrassed. "And not a moment too soon—we have a festival to get ready for, and it's difficult to do that if someone within your own country might be trying to kill you. With this—we're finally only going to have to worry about our own problems from here on."
"Are you proud of him?" Roswell asked Nessiah later that night, when they stood together at the windowsill, looking out over the sleeping village.
"I am," Nessiah said softly, and smiled. "Sometimes, watching all of you struggle through the entanglements of human bonds and politics, I really feel my age. When you've lived as long as I have, you believe you can wait through anything to get the results you want—either that, or force the change with your own two hands. But Gulcasa and Yggdra are stepping through the obstacles propriety sets in front of them so delicately, so carefully… they're doing things the right way, and it's taking less time than I've ever seen it. They're so young. I should trust you young folk with your future more than I do."
"There's no truly fast way to peace," Roswell mused. "It may be years before Shorehold has really forgiven Gulcasa. But now that it's on paper, there's a chance for that to happen. If we keep holding out our hand, giving the other party a chance… then surely things will change for the better someday. I want to believe that, at least."
"The situation with Asgard mightn't have become so severe if we'd been able to do that," Nessiah said with a sigh. "Politics in the heavens are tiresome and unforgiving, though. By the time they were satisfied, everyone here would likely be old and gray but myself. It's no wonder Celina wasn't able to interfere on our behalf openly."
Roswell didn't answer that, opting instead to slide an arm around Nessiah's thin shoulders. "…Well, we do only have our own problems to worry about now. Let's enjoy the respite while we have it, hm?"
Nessiah leaned against Roswell's side. "…It all comes back down to that, doesn't it. I've been thinking about it nonstop, but… Kylier is too wise to my tricks. So I've come to the conclusion that if I want to do something to help her, I need to do something decidedly unlike myself." He hesitated, then sighed. "This is not going to be enjoyable."
Roswell smiled. "When are you going to ask him?"
Nessiah made a face. "Tomorrow morning, if I can get him alone."
"Once she stops being angry, she'll appreciate how difficult this is for you," Roswell murmured, bending a little to kiss Nessiah's forehead. "Your heart is a kind one, even if you are too manipulative for your own good."
Nessiah would've made some kind of retort, but that was when Roswell's hands gathered up the skirts of his underrobe, sliding beneath it so that his palms could run up the bare skin of his sides, and all Nessiah could do was shiver and gasp softly at the warmth that trailed in their wake. He knew what Roswell was saying—there'd been enough deep discussion for one night—and even though he couldn't have protested if he'd wanted to, he quite agreed.
Still, it was a niggling hope in the back of his mind as they fitted their bodies together softly, sweetly, pleasure as much ache as flame. If this went well, then the next night there would be no worries as they made love—only relief.
"T—time out. You want I should what?" Milanor repeated, staring at Nessiah with his brow furrowed and a slightly disturbed expression on his face. "Why should I listen to you?"
Nessiah drew a deep breath, then released it. "Because I'm not asking you this for me. It's for Kylier, everything is for her. Don't you see? She'll expect some sort of scheme from me, but not from you. She'll keep her word, keep away from what she was born to do, and keep herself miserable for the rest of her life if we don't do something.
"Given my druthers, I would really rather ask anyone but you. But you're the only one I can turn to. Please. She's as important to you as she is to me—maybe more. And this is all for her."
Milanor's expression changed from stark disbelief to a resigned grimace.
"Well, dammit, ya have me where all I can do is say yes. I'm not helpin' ya 'cause I want to, either—Kylier's more important than you or me, and dammit if you ain't right about all this. So I'll help out, just this once."
Something of Milanor's stubborn expression and reluctance juxtaposed with his ready agreement reminded Nessiah briefly of Gulcasa. The tense knot in his chest that had been there since he'd realized he would have to join forces with Milanor loosened, and something in his heart softened.
Perhaps Milanor would have done something involving manly honor or the contracts of a thief, but all Nessiah could do was relax his guard a little, and offer a slight but vulnerable smile.
"…You know, right now I can understand a little what she sees in you."
And Nessiah knew he wasn't mistaken, because instead of retorting with something snide, Milanor looked a bit surprised and just nodded once, almost solemnly.
When Milanor asked Kylier awkwardly if she wanted to head out for a bit of a walk, she agreed readily. She was sick to death of everyone staring at her with such pity, sick to death of the little nudges and hints that she would be best off heading out to join Emilia in the stables. She'd made her resolve a long time ago, and she was damned if she wouldn't stick to it. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it felt like it was ripping her apart from the inside. Al deserved nothing less.
So she was happy for a break from all that with Milanor, happy when Milanor talked about everything but griffons. It was good to be able to look back on the early days of their friendship without touching on any sore spots, so they could just laugh and not be hurt.
They wound their way through the village, finding places to sit and talk. Kylier mostly listened to Milanor—he'd resolved long ago that he would lead the rest of the former Royal Army in becoming stronger, intending to equal the power of those of Yggdra's allies who happened to have contracts just so that they wouldn't be left defenseless in the case of a bad angelic attack. And, to be fair, it was probably just his attempt to compete with Nessiah, too. The main part of the plan had worked, but Kylier hadn't really known until now the kinds of crazy ideas for training Milanor and Cruz had dreamt up, or the drama and rivalries they'd had with Durant, who'd been jealous as usual. Sometimes she had to make him stop talking or direct his attention to the bakery or butcher's shop just to remember how to breathe.
She'd been having so much fun with him that she didn't even realize exactly where he'd herded her until they'd been there for a moment or so.
It was stupid of her, yeah, but Milanor had gotten them there damn quick, and then they'd plopped down in the field's grass and were trying to decide what clouds looked like. Kylier was having way too much fun to really be aware of her surroundings until she heard voices that were way, way too familiar.
"It's alright to let them out like this without a line on her, or anything…?"
"Yeah, it's fine! They're waaaay too little to try flying, and she'll stay here to look after 'em."
That was Nessiah. Nessiah and Emilia. Oh, this was bad. Kylier sat up with every intent to make a quick exit stage right—
—at least, until she saw them.
Emilia and Nessiah were leading a beautiful fawn-and-sable griffon into the paddock Milanor had decided would make a nice place to lay, the kind of animal Kylier might work for a decade or more to breed successfully—of the same caliber Al had been. Trailing after their mother, wobbling and cheeping and nipping at her feathers and Emilia's boots and the skirts of Nessiah's robes, were six roly-poly balls of downy white-and-fawn fluff.
Griffon chicks.
Week-old griffon chicks.
Kylier's hands started to shake.
She only noticed that Milanor had sat up when his hand clapped her shoulder warmly. "Go on," he said gruffly, a little tenderly. "Get over there with those guys. You 'n I both know that's where you wanna be."
Kylier shook her head mutely, desperately. "I—I can't, I have to go, I—"
"Look…" Milanor made a face. "There's no use goin' hurtin' yourself tryin' to deny it. Griffon breedin's in your blood, Kylier; has been since Lost Aries turned into Lost Aries, I bet. You love 'em. I know you're never gonna forgive yourself for what happened to Al, but—he'd be pretty pissed if he saw you mopin' like this. He loved you to little bits. He wasn't some dumb animal, neither—he knew what he was doin' as well as you did. He'd'a balked otherwise, right? It don't mean you're forgettin' him if you decide you wanna look after griffons again."
"…I, I just…" Even though she protested, even though she'd sworn she'd never do this again, Kylier's gut twisted with longing as she watched the babies stumble after their mother, tripping over their own paws. Oh, good bloody God, she couldn't look away.
"Go on now," Milanor murmured. "Get over there. Do for the little ones what you couldn't for Al." And he squeezed her shoulder, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Trembling, Kylier stumbled to her feet and began to walk. She thought she'd locked this part of her heart away back then, but—she knew from these feelings that she couldn't fight it. It would be like not loving Milanor, not being there for Nessiah. It was just against her nature.
Maybe—maybe it was time to take this part of herself back. Not in spite of Al's memory, but in it.