Intermission - Royals of Ruins

Nyna

She knows she has to be her own person. They must be 'Nyna' and 'Diana', not 'Nyna and Diana'. She leans so heavily on her, and Diana leans back. They support each other, but they cannot stand alone. They have to relearn. She knows this. But it's hard. She longs to simply hide in her room, being spoiled. She longs to pretend the war isn't going on. She longs to go 'back' to when she was just the 'captured princess'.

She longs for all of this, and feels guilty. People fight and kill in her name, and yet, all she wants to do is run away. She's not suited to this. It's as clear as day. She is as suited to be empress as her father had been. She tries, gods does she ever try, but the more she tries, the more she realizes it. The people love the image she's cultivated, but wearing the mask is so heavy and trying. The soldiers sing her praises, but she just wants to weep from fear and sadness.

Then there is Boah. Sweet, kind Boah who is just trying to help, but she dreads seeing him because it's all talk of how to restore Archanea. As empress, she should be listening attentively, but all she wants to do is throw something, throw a lot of things, and demand why Archanea couldn't wait two godsdamned marks while she picks herself off the ground and pieces herself together.

An empress is symbol. An empress is a legacy. An empress isn't allowed to be human except for a handful of people. She hates it. She wanders the ruins of her home, her castle, and wants nothing more than to disappear. To go somewhere where she doesn't have to be the empress. She can just be a normal person. A normal person who doesn't have to think of arranged marriages…

She sighs, wishing there was some stone or something to kick as she continues walking down the hall. She just got out of a meeting with Boah, and he's suggested that she take a 'foreign king' as her husband, to strength Archanea's reputation. By which he means 'choose Prince Marth or Duke Hardin'. And she can't. She can't choose either. Marry Prince Marth? Might as well say 'Break Caeda's heart', and she can't do that. Caeda is kind and gentle, sweet and loving. Caeda is always there with a smile. Honestly, she had never met anyone as trusting or as kind. If she did marry Marth, she knows Caeda would lie and insist it was fine. She can't. She can't do that.

She also can't marry Duke Hardin. She's not completely blind. She knows he's infatuated with her. She refuses to call it 'love'. He doesn't know her, after all. He only knows the image she projects, along with a handful of other traits that makes him think he knows and loves her. But she knows the truth. She's never been fully herself around him, not like how she is with Diana, how she was with Camus, how she is relearning to be around Midia and Jeorge and Horace. It's possible he could love the real her, and she has to admit that she'd have little to complain about if she did marry him.

But it would be cruel to marry him when he is infatuated, and she isn't. Her heart belongs to Camus, and perhaps that might still change. Perhaps she is clinging to that love and it will fade if he dies, or if she sees him again. But, for now, she is. She is in love with Camus still, feelings that grow stronger and not weaker, and she can't do that to Duke Hardin. It's not something she'd inflict on her worse enemy, if Medeus even had thoughts of marriages instead of just destroying everything, so it's definitely not something she'd inflict on someone who has been a trusted ally for so long. It leaves her in a trap, though. She cannot choose either, and she knows Boah would never accept her being single. She knows she'll lose what trust she has built if she declares her feelings…

She doesn't know what to do. That is why she still constantly seeks out Diana. Diana is always there with a smile, with reassurances, and never pushes her away, even over worries of dependency. Diana makes her feel better, while encouraging her to press on. She loves Midia and Jeorge dearly, but their reassurances don't address all the problems, and she doesn't know how to voice it. She doesn't have to with Diana. She's forgotten how, and she knows that's a problem.

"Oh, Nyna!" Caeda's happy voice startles her, and she turns to see Caeda skipping down the hall to catch up with her. "Hey, are you okay?" Caeda asks, peering up worriedly at her. "I saw you leave that meeting with Boah, and… well, most people wouldn't be able to catch it, but I swore you just looked drained."

"I…" she begins. She hesitates, but remembers what she had just thought. Caeda was kind. "...Can I… vent a little? I normally vent at Diana, but…"

"But you're worried that she's neglecting herself to take care of you." Caeda smiles at her disbelieving look. "When Marth first came to Talys, my father warned me to give Marth his space, to avoid something like that. Of course, Marth had more people. You just had Diana."

"...I had… one other person, actually." She says the words haltingly, and she's terrified. But Caeda smiles, and it soothes her. "That's… part of the problem."

"In that case, I made some cookies." Caeda takes her arm. "Why don't we have a chat? Some nice girl talk about all the things bothering us, where we pretend we're not royals and leaders."

"Yes." She smiles, and based on Caeda's startled look, she knows it's the smile she normally wears only around Diana and Camus. But it's a relief to smile that smile, so she doesn't change it. "Thank you."

Marth

With Archanea freed, he knows the next targets. It is time to liberate Altea, at last, but it would be better to have Falchion. He can't remember who said it. Only that someone did, and that meant only one thing; they were going to Gra first. Gra, sister-nation to Altea, and home of King Jiol, who turned traitor. Who attacked Altea's army from behind. Who killed his father. Who killed Frey.

The anger almost overwhelms him. How dare that man do that? How dare that man do any of that? How dare… the words echo. He imagines all sorts of horrible things as well. He longs to end this war as painlessly as possible. He longs to forgive and… well, not really 'forget', but to move past. It's easy to do with Macedon. In some ways, it's easy to do with Dolhr. But Gra… but Jiol… it's not so easy. He understands now why so many thought him insane when he treated the Macedonian soldiers. He understands now why they couldn't just forgive and work together.

He's supposed to be the King of Altea, heir to Anri. Yet, here he is, sitting at his desk, imagining torturing Jiol to death. It's horrific. It's hateful. But worse is how happy and not-happy it makes him. He feels sickened, but there is a certain morbid glee to it. It's not a true happiness, but perhaps something close enough…

He laughs bitterly as he can already hear Kris's words running through his head. 'Are you happy?'. Simple, yet it does so much, because they remind him of Frey. Precious and dear Frey, two years dead by now, all to save him. Frey, who had wanted him to be happy, truly happy. He had to… make up for that. Somehow. Some way. But all he could think of was make Jiol pay, and salvage his ruined kingdom.

He doesn't know how. He only really knows how to be a symbol.

A knock on the door makes him look up and after a moment, the door opens to reveal Duke Hardin. "...You look like hell, Prince Marth," the man says bluntly. But there's a kindness in the words that softens the blow. "What's kept you up? I thought you made up with Kris."

"I have," he replies, smiling slightly. "Though, it does not stop her from trying to hit me in the face."

"You've a weakness in your left guard. Face hits are very good ways to get you to tighten your guard." Duke Hardin smiles, eyes dancing slightly in quiet laughter. He knows it's because Diana had done the same thing in her early morning spar with the duke, though Diana had to jump. "Those morning spars are quite fun, you know."

"They are!" His smile grows. It's just eight of them, and they switch up the pairings each morning, but there is something invigorating about it. There is something wonderful about meeting people he respects early in the morning, and it not being some administrative thing. "I know it's training, but the exercise… it reminds me of Talys." It reminds him of when he didn't have the weight of everything on his shoulders.

"It's easy to imagine it being during a more peaceful time, where the war wasn't here, and the sparring was simply exercise and preparation for bandits." Duke Hardin's smile warms briefly before falling for a studying look instead. "But that doesn't change that you look like hell now. What troubles you?"

"I…" He sighs, pausing and trying to think. But all he has is a jumbled mess, and he wants to go to Kris, who knows without his having to explain. But that is a disservice to himself, a lazy shortcut. He cannot do that. "Well, if you don't mind listening to me ramble a bit to try and unravel it all?"

"Of course." Duke Hardin instantly takes a chair and sits down across from him, leaning forward slightly. "If I may be bold, Prince Marth… you are rather young for holding everything in. I know as a prince you're required, but sometimes, the elderly do know what they're talking about."

"You're not that old, Duke Hardin." Still, he smiles, relieved and grateful. "But, if you can offer advice…"

"Let's pretend we're not royals for a short while and simply talk and complain. It does us good to remember we are human, when we have a chance." Duke Hardin smiles in return. "And, truthfully, I have always wanted a little brother. I don't wish to make assumptions or push, but-"

"I would be honored to be thought of as your little brother. You're an ideal I strive for." He grins as he notices Duke Hardin flush a bit in pleased embarrassment. "Now, what bothers me… is Gra. Gra, and Jiol…"

Author's note: Some bonding between other royals. Yay!

Next Chapter - The Wooden Cavalry