o.0.o.0.o
Chapter Twenty-Four
A seemingly young looking girl sat sorrowfully behind bars, curled into a ball as she tried to calm her tears. She wasn't sure why she was crying. After all, she was quite used to new owners demanding tricks and punishing her should she not.
If only, she woefully thought, staring through the iron bars. If only she still had her dragonstone. That item, once hanging from the clasp on her purple cape, was torn away from her long ago, in the hands of who knows what. Only every once in a while was she able to get the stone back, and that was only, only when her various owners demanded her to transform and perform tricks. If she refused, why, there was always someone willing to slash her with a Wyrmslayer.
But now that Nowi truly, truly thought about it, she knew that performing tricks for demanding drunkards was a much, much better option than the fate that awaited her.
A door creaked open from afar. Faintly, she could see light filtering into the room. Afraid that it may be the executioner, she shuffled back to the darkest corner so only the very tips of her purple boots were visible. Shaking with fear, she silently wished that she was strong without the dragonstone. Sure, being a manakete blessed her with near eternal youth and better senses, but without her dragonstone, and thus, her dragon form, she knew she'd be bleeding out with one good jab with a blade.
Footsteps came towards the bars. They seemed to be trying to be quiet, but weren't doing so well. She heard the clank of armor and weapons, so she suspected it was some sort of soldier, perhaps one with very little armor. A myrmidon, maybe?
She watched, waiting until the man came into view. He was an older man, almost grandpa age, in her eyes. He had on a outfit for a mercenary. He glanced at the stone on the table, slowly picking it up, then at the bars in the prison. Confusion flickered across his face, probably because he couldn't see her, then approached the cage.
"Oi." he whispered. "Little girl?"
Nowi didn't respond, watching as he held out her dragonstone, the small, heart shaped charm that usually hung on her cape.
"Little girl, don't fear Gregor. Gregor friend, see?" he pointed to his smiling face. Though he still reminded her of a heartwarming grandfather, she knew he was running with a band of Grimleal bandits. Slowly, almost as if afraid he would startled like a wild animal, she came forward and took her dragonstone back. "You remember Gregor? Gregor stopped fellow bandit from hurting wee one. Remember?"
Nowi remembered. One of the men wanted something more that stupid tricks, and Gregor had smashed a beer mug against his head to stop him from going any further. Yes, she remembered, remembered as vividly as each owner she's ever had. So she nodded. Gregor smiled.
"Good! You see Gregor as ally!" he grinned, reaching for the lock as Nowi readjusted the charm in it's rightful place. "Gregor set you free, yeah?"
"But don't… don't you work for them?" Nowi asked, suddenly remembering exactly what these Grimleal wanted to do to her.
"Ah… Bad business deal on Gregor's part. Not proud, but need money to eat. But there are some lines," he grinned, opening the door wide. "That not even Gregor will cross."
Nowi blinked at him, then stepped back. She didn't care if this guy was nice to her now. What if it was just an act and there were a bunch of people up there, ready to kill her?!
"Leave me alone!" Nowi shouted at him, rushing up and kicking him where it hurt. As the man yet out a most unmanly squeal, falling to his knees, Nowi ran around his fallen form and to her freedom.
o.0.o.0.o
Sumia was keeping her eyes trained on her feet as Aversa led her through the hallways, her hands bound tightly by rope. During the fight with Iole, her armor over her chest had shattered from such intense magic coming from the dark mage, and Lovebirds flew off with her orders to find the Shepherds. Though she was fairly certain her loyal pegasus had taken at least one arrow, she was glad that she was safe.
But now, in regards to her own safety, she was fearful.
She refused to lift her gaze as a Plegian soldier whistled.
"Lady Aversa!" he called. "Are we allowed access to that one?" Sumia had a sick feeling of what he was implying. Is this how Plegians treated their prisoners, specifically, their female ones? Well she knew that any prisoners that Ylisse happened to take were quickly released due to Emmeryn's peaceful nature, if not at least treated with the dignity of a human being and not some… thing that they felt they had rights to.
The fact that Aversa kept walking only unsettled her more. Was she ignoring him because she agreed, or was she ignoring him because she couldn't care less?
"Move, you damned wenches!" Sumia blinked looking up from her shoes and seeing a couple Plegians, who have now invaded the castle walls, walking through the hallways as if they had owned it. They were prodding at a few more pegasus knights, forcing them to move down the hallway. As they passed, Sumia widened her eyes.
"Captain Phila." she whispered in horror. She looked worse for wear. Her bun was undone and bandages were wrapped around her upper arm, indicating an injury, but also indicating that either a healer had gotten to her or the Plegians wanted to keep her alive, most likely for prisoners against Ylisse.
Phila caught her gaze, and unlike Sumia, who quickly averted her gaze to avoid detection, Phila kept her gaze strong, a strong warrior full of pride, not yet to be broken simply by a Plegian loss. But what was she doing here? She should be… She should be with the exalt! Phila never left Emmeryn's side! She was like how Frederick was to Chrom! If… If she was back in the capitol, what on earth was going on with the Exalt?!
Aversa paused in a doorway. Sumia didn't know this room, but judging by the furniture inside it, she could only assume it was some sort of study.
Inside, the pegasus knight saw Emmeryn staring at Harold, Gangrel smirking in the corner, a Levin Sword in his hand. If the exalt and the hierarch were afraid, they certainly hid it well. Sumia felt as if she was about to collapse any second. Then something she never believed would happen, happened.
Harold, despite being hunched over and shorter than Emmeryn, reached up, and with a surprising amount of strength, backhanded the Exalt.
Sumia's sharp gasp caught the attention of everyone in the room. Slowly, Emmeryn lifted her head, the crown slightly askew and a bruise already forming from where Harold had struck. Her hand was to her cheek, eyes flicking about to Harold, to Gangrel, and then to Sumia, almost as if she was trying to figure out who was suffering the most in the room, whom she should try to heal first.
"H-Harold… Why?" she finally said, looking at the hierarch that practically raised her since the death of her parents.
"My son would have been around your age at this point." Harold said calmly, a jaded man seemingly scorned by war. "A boy. He was a boy. And he was sent off to be slaughtered in that suicide mission your father called a battle?! He… He was the only child I had and he was murdered! A sickly, sad little thing who was sent to the slaughterhouse because your father was a madman!"
"Yet you side with those who slaughtered him?!" Sumia couldn't help but exclaim. "How could you?!"
"Silence." Gangrel hissed at her.
"I am choosing the side I know will win." Harold said to her. "Look at this place. Without the Shepherds, this place is practically defenseless. King Gangrel granted me and my wife immunity for this." he adjusted his glasses. "Though my child was killed in the last war, I will not let my wife suffer the same fate."
"You won't listen to reason, Harold?" Emmeryn suddenly said. "Please, we've all suffered from the war, myself and my siblings included. I will not deny what my father has done, but this does not call for any more senseless bloodshed."
"Pah! Should have thought of that when the great Zevain cut down my own kin!" Gangrel hissed angrily. "Now it is my turn for some long due and desperately needed revenge, you black-hearted shewitch."
Emmeryn could only stare at him, mouth open for only a moment, before she bowed her head.
"I… am truly sorry that your pain runs so deep that it must come to his, Gangrel." Emmeryn finally said. "But please, spare my people. Don't drag the children of our former army men into this revenge of yours. I will go willingly, Gangrel, but at least spare my people." her eyes shot to Sumia. "Spare Sumia."
"Stop it," Gangrel growled out, reaching for the bookshelf. "With that bleeding-heart act you put on!" shrieking these words, he hurled a heavy looking book at Emmeryn. "You think your people deserve peace?! You think they deserve to be spared the pain and agony my own comrades, friends, and family felt?! You think your useless soldiers deserve to be set free?! You think that by sacrificing yourself, everything will be settled?! It will not! What of my people?! You deserve a death as painful as the one my mother was dealt when your horrid soldiers ravaged our home! You deserve to know the pain of having to see your brother hanging from the rafters! You deserve to know experience every last bit of pain I've ever felt!"
Every other word, he hurled more books at Emmeryn with more force. Much like when she had first become exalt, and the villagers had thrown stones, she simply stood there, waiting for him to stop or run out of books. Eventually, he did, heaving in deep breaths after his fit.
"No one will survive this war." Gangrel growled. "I'll see to it that every person you've ever seen as a friend will loose their heads, one after another, just like you will on your execution!"
Emmeryn was silent for a moment as the bent down, plucking one of the books from the pile at her feet. Everyone was staring at her, wondering what she was doing with the book, cover wrapped in brown paper.
Then in a feat that surprised everyone, Emmeryn snapped open the tome, extended her hand, and extremely powerful wind magic whipped past them, slamming Aversa, Gangrel, and Harold into different walls, yet slicing the ropes around her wrists.
"Run, Sumia!" Emmeryn urged as Gangrel quickly recovered, crossing the room to wrestle the tome out of her hands. Sumia, torn between terror and loyalty to her exalt, stood idle for a moment. "Sumia, go!" Emmeryn ordered, still trying to keep Gangrel from taking her weapon. "Go!"
Sumia, with a heavy heart, but not willing to waste Emmeryn's sacrifice, raced down the hallway, trying to keep her eyes trained and alert in case of any soldiers or, well, something that would make her trip.
"Get her!" Gangrel roared. "Get her back! We need her!"
Hearing the pounding footsteps behind her, Sumia dared to quicken her pace, trying to find a place to hide. She could faintly remember hallways to secret passages in the castle. They were a must have back when she was a child, what with the war with Plegia raging far worse than it is now. But back then, when she still had the innocence of a six-year-old girl, she would recall playing hide in seek in the passages with Chrom, Sully, Maribelle, and Lissa, pretending, at least for a moment, that there wasn't a war raging outside the castle walls.
But as fate would have it, in her need to hurry, she tripped. Not on a carpet or a piece of rubble, or heck, even a body. Sumia tripped over own two accursed left feet. Before she had a chance to get up, she felt something was over her. She went from being on her hands and knees to suddenly collapsing to the floor, only able to barely lift her head to meet the gaze of her attacker.
"I still don't get it." Sumia flinched as she caught sight of Iole snapping her Noferatsu tome shut, looming over her. "There's literally nothing redeemable about you. You're plain, klutzy, weak, and a crybaby. What could anyone, let alone your damned lieutenant, see in you?"
"Maybe she's klutzy enough to trip and fall right into his bed." Gangrel laughed from behind her, taunting her. Sumia didn't respond, bowing her head in embarrassment. Had they no shame?! Though she knew that what they were implying was hardly true, she was still feeling embarrassed, and even a little angry for both of them trying to slander not only her name, but Frederick's as well.
"Good point." Iole said, flicking some hair over her shoulder. "So what of the exalt, milord? Am I allowed to have at least one of her eyes before we put execute her? I've noticed that the exalted bloodline has a trend of having the most dazzling blue eyes… And really, I've never had an eye that belong to someone of noble birth!"
"Take one of Desain's, then." Gangrel said, nudging Sumia with his foot. Iole pouted.
"I don't want brown. I want blue."
"Well, considering how good of a soldier you've been… I suppose you could have one once she's dead."
"Aw, but ripping them out while they're alive is where all the fun is!"
Sumia honestly could not tell if Iole was joking or not. While she prayed that she was, judging from her past actions, Sumia had a deep, sinking feeling she was not.
"Is she dead?" Gangrel scowled, staring down at her.
"No," Iole said. "Probably close to unconsciousness, but she's fine."
"Thinking she could save you…" Gangrel giggled darkly, flipping her over with her foot. "Take a look around you. This place is falling apart. Plegia will win this war this and then," a dark, mad grin lit up his face as he pulled his Levin Sword from his belt. "I shall slaughter Ylissean after Ylissean as I see fit!"
With that, Gangrel raised his sword in the air, successfully summoning a bolt of lightening from a magic circle above him, jolting Sumia into unconsciousness.
o.0.o.0.o
"B-but she's safe inside the castle, right?" Lissa said, glancing between Chrom and Rosalie, all three standing in the Ferox strategy room, having arrived their about two weeks prior.
No one really was sure what to say about them going to Ferox, all nervous and afraid for their exalt, though no one was willing to admit it, instead drowning their worry in training and catching up on Frederick Fanatical Fitness Hours that have been missed.
"Phila and the others will protect her!" Lissa continued. "And Khan Flavia is assembling her best troops as we speak. We'll make it back home in time. I know we will!"
"...…" Chrom's gaze was focused out the window, a dazed, worried look on his face.
"Chrom? Say something!" Lissa begged, grabbing her brothers shoulder and shaking him. "Say, "Yes, of course we will!"" Chrom seemed to snap out of it for a moment, blinking, turning his gaze to his sister. He seemed to backtrack on the conversation, though it was obvious to both women in the room that he wasn't truly listening.
"...I'm sorry, Lissa." he finally said, failing to recall what Lissa was saying. "What?"
"Ugh, fine! Never mind!" Lissa said, throwing her arms in the air in frustration, staring angrily in the corner. "Tell me when you get out of your own head for a second!"
Rosalie frowned, turning her gaze back to Chrom. He has been like that ever since they got to Ferox, dazed and out of it, practically making himself sick with worry. If Rosalie thought he was prone to breaking things back when he was normal, then he basically tripled his average ratio of weapon breakage.
"Chrom?" she asked, trying to get his attention. He didn't respond.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Approaching him, she grabbed the front of his shirt, fist raised.
"Snap out of it, Chrom!"
Then she punched him in the face. There was a long silence as Chrom seemed to register what just happened, Lissa standing in the corner with her mouth agape.
"OW!" Chrom finally exclaimed, bringing his gaze back to her. Rosalie, satisfied with getting his attention, loosened her grip on his shirt. "...What the hell was that for?!"
"Lets see…" Rosalie mused. "I took a page from Ella's book. If you can't get a person's attention through words, you use physical force."
"Ella actually said that?" Lissa said in awe.
"No." Rosalie admitted. "But every time I see her talking to Demyan, the conversation usually ends in her smacking him with her notebook."
"Gods, that seriously hurt…" Chrom whined, rubbing his cheek. Loud laughter suddenly echoed from the doorway, all three turning and seeing a rather amused Flavia.
"What's wrong, my dear prince? Sometimes love hurts!" Before Rosalie could figure out if that was a jape or Flavia was implying something, the khan continued. "You're lucky to have strong women like her, and not just dainty flowers about." Sighing with content, she put her hands on her hips. "In any case, I bring good news. The Feroxi army has finally mobilized. Every last man is itching to fight." a fierce look lit up her gaze. "I must say, I'm looking forward to savoring a skirmish or two myself."
"...Wait. You're coming along?" Rosalie asked, widening her eyes in surprise at the idea of the ruling khan putting her life on the line.
"Of course!" Flavia said, as if it were obvious. "A khan must have her fun. I'm even bringing my insignificant other."
"...Your who?" Rosalie asked after a pause.
"Basilio." Flavia shrugged. "The oaf isn't good for much, but he might stop a few stray arrows."
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and Basilio burst in.
"Well, speak of the devil." Flavia smirked, turning to him. "To whom do I owe the honor, oaf?"
"Chrom! Good gods, I've been looking for you everywhere!" He exclaimed.
"Is something wrong?" Lissa asked, coming from the corner.
"Our scouts have reported back. Dark news, I'm afraid…" he trailed off, eye flicking to the side to avoid eye contact, before he met Chrom's gaze with a heavy one. "Ylisstol...has fallen."
"What?!" Chrom exclaimed a look of utter shock on his face. Rosalie herself was surprised. She was aware that they were going against a mighty force, what with what Cordelia reported, but… but to know that they had actually really lost…
"H-How long ago was this? When did Ylisstol fall?" Rosalie asked. Basilio sighed.
"From what our scouts say, your exalt was captured a day after her arrival back in Ylisstol."
"So roughly two weeks ago, correct?" Flavia said, counting the days in her head.
"Correct." he turned to Chrom, a new fury burning in his good eye. "Betrayed by the man who practically raised you and Lissa."
"Harold?" Lissa squeaked out, shaking hands over her mouth, the word coming out in a mix of horror and disbelief. Basilio nodded grimly.
"Correct." Basilio confirmed. "If it helps any, she's still alive, as well as that pegasus knight you all are so worried about. And trust me, we know. The damned king was parading them through the streets in chains before he retreated back across their lines. With that," he paused, the tension so high it was practically choking them. "Gangrel has declared she's to be publicly executed within three days time."
"E-executed?!" Chrom exclaimed, voice going from shock to utter rage. Lissa, who has been silent for the entire conversation, suddenly let out a low moan.
Then she collapsed to the side, Rosalie barely catching her under her arms.
"Lissa?" Rosalie asked, trying to rouse her. Not getting any response from the younger girl, Rosalie became a bit more frantic. "Lissa!"
"The dastard's not even trying to be subtle anymore." Flavia muttered distastefully.
"I agree." Rosalie said, still keeping Lissa from hitting the floor. "It's an obvious trap."
"The Mad King knew our scouts would relay this information back." Basilio said, crossing his arms. "It's clearly a provocation—a hot brand to the buttocks! We should consider our options carefully before jumping to any—"
"Rosalie!" Chrom nearly shouted, snapping his gaze to her. The tactician flinched under the intensity of his enraged gaze. "Round up the Shepherds! We march to Plegia!"
A long heavy silence leaving Rosalie unsure. Surely it would be foolish to just march into Plegia unprepared, she needed to think of a plan, a plan that would rescue both the exalt and Sumia. If they marched in with a rage-induced haze, all Rosalie could possibly imagine was that the Shepherds would be reduced to nothing but a pile of blood and corpses. The silence was broken as Basilio cleared his throat.
"Well, that would be one option, yes... But perhaps we've seen enough royalty waltzing into traps for one war already, eh?"
"I don't care if it's a trap, Basilio." Chrom practically hissed to the older man. "He's going to murder my sister!"
"Peace, Chrom." Flavia said, raising her hand. "Breathe a moment. No one's suggesting we don't act. We're simply saying we should act wisely. We'll need guts and wits in equal measure if we're to save your sister."
"The khans are right." Rosalie said, her gaze becoming determined. "I'll think of something, Chrom. I promise."
"...All right, Rosalie." he finally said, a bit calmer, but still enraged and worried. "I leave it to you to formulate our strategy."
"Are you certain you're up to the task, Rosalie?" Flavia asked, a stern look on her face. "It won't be easy. You hold the exalt's life in one hand, your friends life in the other, and all of ours upon your shoulders."
"A responsibility I do not take lightly." Rosalie responded, gaze unwavering. "But I am equal to the challenge."
Basilio suddenly yet out a roar of laughter.
"You've got stones, at least. I like that!"
"No hesitation, no mincing words…" Flavia trailed off, a smirk on her face. "She's either a genius or a fool! I suppose we'll find out once we march. I'll round up my troops, oaf, you round up yours, and hold on to your tassets, Ylisseans. We've an exalt to save!"
With that, Flavia ran out of the room, the thoughts of war and fighting on her mind.
"I'd better follow that woman." Basilio sighed. "Don't want to get out men to riled up after all."
And with that, Basilio left. Now alone, Rosalie turned to Chrom.
"Chrom…"
"I… I'll take Lissa to her room to rest." Chrom said. To prove his point, he approached her and lifted his sister under the knees and shoulders. His tone took on a more somber tone as he spoke the next sentence. "Should I inform Frederick, or do you wish to?"
"Don't talk like that." Rosalie shook her head. "There's no funerals yet, we've still a chance to rescue them both, and we will. As for Frederick…" she trailed off, glancing out the same window Chrom was just gazing out earlier. "I… I'll tell him. You focus on Lissa for now, all right?"
"All right." Chrom said, moving towards the doorway, only to pause, turning back. "Rosalie,"
"Yeah?"
"I believe in you. I know you'll think of a way to keep everyone safe."
Rosalie smiled slightly, despite the grim news they were just delivered. Following him out into the hallway, she only responded with three simple words.
"Thank you, Chrom."
Then they parted ways, going down separate ends of the hallway to complete their own tasks.
o.0.o.0.o
Frederick threw himself into work. If he wasn't training himself, he was forcing the rest of the army to train. And when they could not longer train, he began doing weapon checks, tending to armor, hell, he even began doing simply house chores simply because, as the second week ended with no news on Ylisstol and thus, the Exalt and Sumia.
The only thing he refused to go near was the stables. Perhaps it was negligent, but he knew the purpose of him drowning himself in work was to not worry, and he knew that if he went anywhere near the stables, his mind immediately looked for Sumia, almost instinctively, hoping to have another conversation with her as the often had when they encountered each other, most often, in the stables.
He glanced around at his handiwork. The weapons were sharp enough to draw blood if one simply brushed their finger against them, armor gleamed a most brilliant shine… Even the floors seemed to sparkle with a fresh, lemon-scented cleanliness.
Frederick glanced around again, realizing with a sinking feeling that he, literally, had nothing else to do. He had forced anyone who missed his Fanatical Fitness Hour to make up their hours, something Demyan, in particular, was not happy about. Anyone who had any kinks in attacks or combos or strategies had worked them out, training had been completed, everything was cleaned, cared for, and ready for battle…
Well, he supposed there was one more thing he could polish.
Sitting down on a stool and pulling out a fresh rag, he dabbed a small bit of silver polish onto the rag and began to tediously polish a small item in his hands, wanting it to be absolutely pristine when he presented it to it's intended owner…
"Frederick?"
He nearly dropped the item, surprised by Rosalie's sudden appearance. Tucking it away, he glanced up at the tactician, who was still standing in the doorway with wide eyes.
"Working the midnight oil lately?" she asked, a bit of her usual teasing on her voice, though it sounded forced. "I can practically see my reflection in the floors, and they're made of stone! How'd you manage to get all this done?"
"By working the midnight oil." he responded in a monotone voice. His mind drifted back to her forced teasing, deciding to confront her on that. "And please stop with the forced teasing." he reached out for an already polished sword, beginning inspections all over again. "Whatever you want, please state it now."
Rosalie bit her lip, then averted her gaze.
"… I'm sorry for trying to evade the subject, but I'd figure you'd want to be the first to know." she brought her gaze back to his. "Ylissetol has… has fallen, Frederick."
Frederick's concentration on the weapon suddenly shattered, the item clattering to the floor. He could only stare at the fallen weapon, a thousand thoughts running through his head at once. Ylisstol had fallen? How long ago was this? And… and how? What became of the pegasus knights? The soldiers dispatched there? Phila? Emmeryn? Sumia? He's trained each of those soldiers perfectly, and Phila the pegasus knights. They were not weak soldiers, and to have their capitol fall… It was unfathomable to him!
But then he recalled Cordelia's own words, a witness to the horrid massacre. Gangrel lead his strength against them, and knowing the Mad King, he's been vigorously training his own army in a revenge induced rage since the last war. Back then Frederick remembered, he was younger. Just entering the knighthood as a cavalier, loosing a brother to the bloodshed and his father becoming crippled. Even then, the current exalt had tried to send him to battle, but his own life was spared when Lady Fayne had brought him to be a guardian of sorts to Emmeryn, Chrom, and Lissa.
Frederick took great pride in his army. Great pride in what he did for a living. He could not fathom the… the very thought that his army…
"Rosalie," his voice taking on a frantic edge. "Where there any survivors? What… What became of Sumia? The Exalt?"
"I'm not sure if this is of any relief to you, but they are alive, both of them, most likely either bait to lure us out or hostages to negotiate unreasonable requests. Emmeryn… is due to be executed in three days time."
"How long ago was this? When did the capitol fall?"
"A little after we arrived in Ferox. Approximately two weeks or so. Emmeryn... She was betrayed by the hierarch."
"Harold?!" Frederick exclaimed. Out of all people, he did not expect him. "The filthy rat…"
"Gangrel made no point to be subtle." Rosalie continued in an equally disgusted tone. "Scouts reported him hauling the Exalt and and pegasus knights he had captured in chains, parading them through the street as an obvious taunt."
Frederick felt fury flash through his mind, and not just for the fact that Emmeryn, a woman who no doubt would have surrendered peacefully to save her friends, was dragged through the streets like a common criminal, but also that Sumia, a girl who could barely keep herself upright without being restrained, probably tripped over her own two feet a multitude of times. The ultimate humiliation in her eyes, no doubt.
"I figured… You'd appreciate being the first to know." Rosalie said. "I also wanted to tell you that we're already gathering troops, and formulating a plan. Unfortunately, I believe that it won't be possible for us to get to Plegia before Emmeryn's… execution. But I suspect that Sumia and the other captured knights would be locked away in a dungeon, and Emmeryn would be in preparation for…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "Anyways, I'm sure that Gangrel will hold out to lure us in. I've already got plans to save everyone, it's just a matter of time."
"Should there be a charge into the dungeons," Frederick said, an icy glare on his face. Though he was not glaring at Rosalie, he wanted to make his point, his absolute and utter hatred for Plegia and their Mad King clear. "I would like to lead it."
Rosalie seemed slightly taken aback by his rage, bubbling only slightly to the surface as he struggled to keep it restrained, before she smiled knowingly.
"I would appoint no better man." she said, walking back towards the door, only to pause. "Would you…?"
"I would like some time alone." Frederick cut her off curtly. Rosalie nodded, as if understanding, then left the room. Frederick himself picked up the blade that fell to the floor, and decided to seek out a practice arena. Very rarely has he ever felt such a rage. He usually was able to keep his emotions in check, known famously or infamously, depending on perspective, as the Cold Lieutenant for a reason.
But at that particular moment, he let the rage consume him, the practice dummy he continued to beat bearing the face of Gangrel in his mind and the thoughts of a certain pegasus knight haunting his thoughts.
o.0.o.0.o
Now is probably a horrible time to mention that I really, really ship Gangrel and Emmeryn. And also kind of wish that Lissa had a daughter that looked like Emmeryn. Don't get me wrong, I love Owain, but imagine the support conversations between mother and child should Lissa have a daughter that looked, and maybe even acted to an extent, like Emmeryn?
And in case you haven't noticed, I ship Sumia and Frederick SO. DAMN. HARD. I think they're a MUCH better fit than Chrom and Sumia, just saying. I have no clue if Frederick was out of character in this chapter, but I don't care because I thought I ended the chapter on a perfectly dramatic note, leading up to some action that is destined to happen in the next chapter.
Amy47101 signing off! ^.^