There was a gentle rap on the door. Hector lifted his face from his hands, cleared his throat, and managed a, "Come in." Assuming that it was Oswin, he straightened his shoulders and hardened his expression.

However, it wasn't Oswin's head poking through the door – it was Lyn's. Hector relaxed a little, but kept his shoulders stiff. He forced a small smile on his face.

"Lyn," he greeted. "…Something you need?"

She quietly closed the door behind her, her eyes trained on his. Her expression was morose and pitiful, and Hector's expression hardened once more.

"I overheard what happened," she said, very softly and gently, as if speaking any louder would shatter him to pieces. She made her way toward him, taking a seat beside him on the edge of his bed. "…Are you alright?" She looked at him in concern, and he turned his head away from her. He didn't want to be looked at like that.

"I'm fine," he lied, as he had done at his parents' funeral years ago. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." He had always thought that the more he said it, it would eventually become true.

"…You're a terrible liar," she said quietly.

He felt like laughing, but couldn't find the strength him to do so. "I know," he said, his voice as gentle as hers. He offered a weak smile that collapsed almost as soon as it had formed. "But I have to be strong, y'know? For you, for Eliwood…for the army. I must be strong…I have to keep my head up."

"That's admirable, Hector," she smiled, "but…" The smile slowly slipped off her face. "Putting on a brave face doesn't make you any stronger."

He furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"Even the strongest of people grieve for what is lost. And I understand why you'd want to act strong for the army – it's an admirable notion – but that's all it is. Acting. It doesn't really make you any stronger. Being honest to yourself, though…" She gently put her hand over his. "Now that takes the most strength and courage of all."

He stared at her silently before looking down at his lap. "That sounds like something my brother would say." His lips quivered. "Dammit, Lyn, it hurts." His free hand balled up into a fist on his lap. "It really hurts."

She squeezed his hand. "…You know what my mother always used to tell me?" she said slowly. "She'd say, 'a strong person is not the one who doesn't cry. A strong person is the one who sheds tears for a moment, then picks herself up and fights again'."

Hector glanced at her, smiling with his still quivering lips. "Your mother was a wise woman," he murmured. "She raised the strongest woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting." He squeezed her hand.

"…Thank you," she whispered, "It would've made her happy to hear that." She paused, concern flitting her features as she watched Hector struggle with his emotions. "Hector," she said softly, "you don't have to do this alone."

The moisture that had been accumulating in his eyes turned into tears. They rolled down his cheeks and dripped down his chin, splattering onto his clenched fist. "I didn't even get to say goodbye," he croaked. "I-it's not fair!" he moaned, slamming his fist against the bed. He leaned forward, shoulders hunched, and sobs suddenly wracked his body.

Lyn enveloped her arms around him in an instant, squeezing the hands they still held together. Hector leaned against her, wetting her shoulder as he sobbed against it. Lyn whispered reassuring murmurs to him as she held him tight, letting him know that it alright to let his emotions out. The action reminded Hector of his mother, and how she used to hold him and pet his hair while he cried against her, and it just made him cry harder. He didn't quiet until sleep overcame him.

Lyn smiled softly once he fell asleep, eyeing the wet tracks his tears had left on his cheeks. She shifted, trying to move him down onto the bed, but he bristled at the movement, his hand involuntarily tightening over hers. Lyn paused, then smiled again, shaking her head. She kissed Hector him softly on the forehead. With their hands still intertwined, she leaned her head against his and let her fatigue defeat her will to stay awake.

The two slept soundly for the rest of the night.

~-x-~-~-x-~-x-~

It took him a while to find her, but he did eventually. She was in the castle's library, pouring over maps and books and infinite lists under a single candlelight at a desk. He watched her silently for a moment before he let his presence be known.

"Staying up late tonight?"

She looked up, clearly startled, and squinted through the dark. He sashayed his way toward her desk, and she relaxed when she saw who it was.

"Oh, Matthew, it's just you." She glanced back at her list and continued scribbling on it. "Did you need something?"

"I wanted to talk with you."

"About what?"

He watched her a moment before speaking again. "About Jaffar."

He watched the quill freeze in place. Her face slowly raised to meet his. "…What about him?" she asked cautiously. She sounded as if she already knew the answer to her question.

"I thought you didn't like him." He spoke lightly first, warming her up for the conversation that was to follow.

"I never said that. I just had trouble trusting him. You know how I can be."

"Then why were you being all friendly to him?" His voice suddenly took a lowly turn. "I saw you talking to him today. He's dangerous, y'know. You need to be careful."

"I was simply thanking him for saving my life," she said coolly, her eyes glinting in the candlelight. "Though I don't think it's any of your business."

His face was set in a dark scowl. "I'm a spy, goddammit," he spat, "everything's my business."

"…I don't see how this would relate to Ostia's interests." There was that glint in her eyes that she often had when arguing with Raven; she wasn't going to back down without a fight.

"Well, I'll tell you how it does." He swept closer toward her. She saw the unruliness of his hair, the stubble growing on his chin, the dark circles underneath his eyes. A hint of uneasiness settled into her. "That man killed an Ostian spy."

Her eyebrows rose to her hairline. She didn't reply immediately. Then, very softly, speaking as if she had thought out each word carefully, she said, "Getting revenge will not bring her back."

"I know that," he spat. He pushed himself off the desk with his hands. "But he doesn't deserve to live, after all he's done."

"Even after he saved my life?"

Matthew's expression hardened. "That doesn't make up for everything else he's done."

"Perhaps not," she admitted, "but I think it shows that he's changed. He's no longer Nergal's slave. He'll start to do things that he realizes are—"

"Why are you standing up for him?!" Matthew shrieked, losing all the composure he'd always managed to keep, throwing his arms in the air. "Sure, the man saved your life, but he's killed countless others!"

"People change, Matthew," she said firmly, standing up from her chair. "He may have made mistakes in the past, but—"

"Deliberately killing people is not a mistake."

"You talk as if you haven't killed a person before," she said coldly. His eyebrows raised at her audacity, and then his eyes narrowed.

"It's different," he hissed. "We're fighting for what's right."

"Murder is still murder."

"You may have never murdered a man by your own hands, Lady Tactician," he hissed, "but all those lives taken from the battlefield – every single miserable life – were all taken by you." He stood breathlessly, relishing in the sound of her stunned silence.

"I won't deny that," she spoke finally, her words shocking him. "I know that I directed the army to kill all those men, to end all those lives. I take responsibility for it all. But you – when will you stop denying that vengeance will do you no good?"

There was a moment of absolute silence as Matthew stood frozen in place. Jasmine hoped that her words had left a mark on his mind, but his reply surprised her.

"I'll let you know once the deed is done." And he melted back into the shadows.

~-x-~-~-x-~-x-~

"…Come in."

Raven opened the door to Priscilla's room. "…Priscilla," he greeted. He noted that she had the room to herself, and was grateful for it.

Her lips were drawn in a tight line. "…Something you need?" she asked, her voice colder than he'd ever heard it. The fact that she was still acting cold and angry toward him confirmed that Sain had not told Priscilla anything about the conversation that the two had had the other day. Raven supposed that Sain was a man of his word, after all.

"I've come to apologize." She was silent, clearly waiting for him to continue. "I'm sorry for what I said that night. It was wrong of me."

She softened, a smile gracing her lips. "It's alright," she said softly. "…I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"No," he said, shaking his head. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Don't be sorry. I deserved it. It…wasn't my place to say such things." He sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "I want you to be happy, Priscilla, and I realized that I'd been blocking your way to happiness. I've always just wanted to protect you from the world, but in the process I haven't allowed you to do the things you want to and spend time with the people you want to be with.

"He makes you happy – even I can see that – and if he makes you happy, then that's at all really matters." He took a deep breath, and took a few steps forth. He shrugged sheepishly. "I guess what I'm saying is that, if you love him, be with him. I promise I'll no longer stand in the way."

"…Truly? You truly mean it?" she whispered, a hand upon her chest. She looked up at him desperately, her eyes glistening with emotion. He nodded.

"Yes, I do. You are my sister, after all, and…I know I haven't said it in years, but I do love you. I want what's best for you…and if that's being with Sain, then so be it. As long as it makes you happy, that's all that matters to me."

Her hand flew to her mouth as her emotions overwhelmed her. Her eyebrows crinkled and her eyes watered. "Oh, Lord Brother…" she whispered. "I've waited so long to hear you say that!"

He smiled. "Sorry for the wait."

She let out a laugh of surprise and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. He returned the embrace, and held her as she sobbed against him.

"I'm so sorry for everything," he murmured, "for all the pain I've caused you."

"It's alright," she whispered through her tears, "I forgive you. Of course I do. You're my brother, after all. I could never stay mad at you."

Emotions rendered Raven speechless, so he squeezed her a bit tighter in response, to let her know that he was happy, to let her know that he was grateful for having such a forgiving sister. She smiled against him and squeezed him in return, letting him know that she had forgiven him as soon as the words had left his mouth, letting him know that she knew him well enough to know that he had been sorry as soon as he had spoken those harmful words.

And that was all the conversation they needed.

~-x-~-~-x-~-x-~

"Lord Eliwood." Eliwood turned away from the windowsill to see that Marcus was standing a few feet behind him. He hadn't even noticed him approach.

"…Marcus," he greeted dully.

"You ought to get some sleep, milord. You need your rest after such a grueling day."

Eliwood didn't respond immediately, turning his back to Marcus so he could stare out the window. "I can't." His response was short but his voice sounded broken. He shook his head, his shoulders shaking. "I can't sleep. I've tried, but every time I do…" He trailed off. "I'm a terrible person, aren't I?" His voice was strained. "I killed the woman I love with my very own hands." He was filled with disgust, disgust of himself. He stared down at his palms, and they shook as anger and disgust overpowered him. He wanted to clench his hands into fists and punch the wall and scream and cry until his knuckles were bleeding and his voice was hoarse and his tears were all used and dried.

Marcus had walked up beside Eliwood, eyeing his lord with concern. "It wasn't your fault," he said softly, using a tone that very few had a chance to hear from him, "It was out of your control, milord."

"I was in complete control!" Eliwood shrieked, his voice echoing through the empty chamber. It was unlike him to lose his temper, but he was filled with such rage, filled with such sorrow and disgust of himself that he couldn't control his emotions. "It was by my hands that Ninian was killed! Me! I did it!"

"No," Marcus repeated, his voice suddenly firm and crisp, losing its softness. He remained calm, speaking with the authority he spoke with when training knights. "It was by Nergal's hands, not yours. Your father, Lady Ninian – it was all Nergal's doing. Never yours."

Eliwood said nothing.

Marcus softened. "You need your time to grieve, of course, milord – so much has happened to you in such little time – but remember that none of it was ever your fault. The circumstances you were in…they were simply beyond your control." He clamped a hand on his shoulder, and it surprised Eliwood so much that he glanced back at his Paladin. Marcus smiled warmly at him. "You're a strong man, Lord Eliwood. I've always admired that about you. It never ceases to amaze me how you've managed to stay true to yourself, standing strong."

"…I'm barely standing," Eliwood argued softly.

"But standing nonetheless," Marcus pointed out. Then, much to Eliwood's great surprise, Marcus reached out and shoved Eliwood – and none too lightly. Eliwood stumbled back, falling on his rear.

"What was that for?" His voice was high in surprise. He stood back up. Marcus didn't respond, taking a step forth and shoving Eliwood again. This time, though, his lord stood resolutely.

"You see?" Marcus's smile was soft and genuine, a rare sight. "You may have fallen at first, but you just got right back up. And once you got up, you refused to fall down."

"…Thank you, Marcus." He offered him a small smile of appreciation.

Marcus smiled back. "Of course." He bowed deeply. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be heading off to bed now. I recommend you do the same, milord." He began to walk off, but paused at the doorway. "Just remember, milord: get up more times than you fall."

Eliwood smiled. "I'll remember."

I know, this is kinda a heavy chapter. The Ostian castle turned out be a rather depressing place to be at night...but it had to be done. I'm not sure if it was such a good idea compiling all this emotional stuff in one chapter, but timing-wise this is what worked out best.

Only two to four chapters left! :O