((CONTENT WARNING: thoughts of suicide, self-harm, self-hate, and abuse!))

{-Alfonse-}

He had a feeling either everything here hated them or they really shouldn't had come. Veronica was still in her room, though she didn't acknowledge his existence when he'd brought her dinner. Sharena had practically passed out, and despite Kiraat's efforts all he could say for sure was that she'd be okay. When Alfonse had gone to make sure the horses still had water he'd felt like someone else was there again, and likely concerned Kiraat when he'd came back in with a nosebleed that didn't stop until a minute later. It felt like everything was just trying to test how much patience they had with throwing random things at them; he'd even gone to sleep quickly only to have a few, vivid nightmares relating to just about everything that had happened in the past eight months.

Alfonse was writing the letter to Henriette—a task Sharena had been doing up until now—informing her that the trio would probably be heading home soon, without much mention of the events leading up to the decision. They'd done what they came here to do, at least, and there wasn't any reason to stay in the place any longer than they needed to be. He certainly didn't want to outstay their welcome. They were only staying today because Sharena definitely didn't seem to be in traveling condition and it was pouring down rain that told a promise of future thunderstorms.

He looked up when Kiraat entered the kitchen. "If you'd prepare it, I can take Veronica's breakfast to her. She'd probably prefer if it wasn't given to her by a relative stranger."

Kiraat didn't actually say anything about it, and they fell into silence even after Alfonse nodded his thanks and went to do what he'd offered.

What he found there was concerning… well, maybe the proper term for it would be what he didn't find there.

Veronica wasn't there. All of her things still were, but the young empress wasn't there and nor had she bothered to hide it before leaving. Trying not to completely start worrying, he went and checked every other place she could've been. Not in the garden, not in the stables, and not in any of the other spare rooms. The horse she'd ridden here was still in its stall, and besides the lack of her presence, everything was in place.

He didn't really think about telling the other two were he was going. In truth, he didn't even know where he'd go—he just knew that if Veronica wasn't here than she was outside somewhere in this weather when she definitely shouldn't be. Even if she'd left last night, she couldn't had gotten far; she honestly didn't have that much stamina, and she'd have much less in the almost-considered-intoxicated state she'd been in last time he saw her. At least, that's what he hoped.

It wasn't much longer than that he was mounted and leaving, trying to think of every place she could've been. He knew she wasn't one to wander without telling anyone, and considering the fact she'd gone on foot without any of her things, he doubted she'd decided to go back to Embla.

The amount of time he'd been out there was uncertain, weaving the horse through the trees and just praying she was somewhere safe. After a while, though, he found a spot by the river—wider, deeper, and faster here than it would ever be at the royal castle—where the trees made the rain a little more bearable and he knew he had to stop. He wasn't even aware of another person's presence until he dismounted.

"Go away." Confused, he turned around to see Veronica, huddled up against one of the trees. It was clear she'd gotten here without much care for herself; she had several small cuts and her dress was torn, looking more like this had been a decision she'd made without much thought than anything else. "I don't want to go back."

"Well, you can't stay out here." Alfonse stepped closer to her and, with no definite opposition, a bit more until he was close enough to touch her. Then he sat down, and that's when he noticed something else—another cut on her hand, still bleeding and looking deeper than the rest. "You're hurt—"

"What does it matter? I don't feel it anyway," she interrupted bitterly. "There's not any pain."

"Just because you don't feel it doesn't give you a good reason to do it." He'd known, somehow, that at least that one had been on purpose. His tone was gentle, though, even if she backed away from him.

She looked like she'd been crying before he came and she was crying now, shaking her head slowly. "Better me than you." She only glanced at him for a moment, before turning her attention back to the ground. "Even after my attempts at drowning it, it was still there. It wanted me to hurt you. Kept trying to convince me that what you'd done for me was all for your own gain; that there was no reason you were doing that because of me. And I knew that it's influence was beginning to sink in, and I… I didn't want that. So I left in hopes that, with enough distance between us… it would stop. But it didn't, not really, not completely… You don't have to worry, though. I wanted to do this."

"That's definitely not any better," he pointed out. "None of this is healthy. Not wandering off in the middle of a storm, not purposely cutting yourself… you're going to get sick out here and that cut's not something that should be left like that for long."

"Oh, this? I've thought of doing worse…" Her attempt at a hollow laugh was stopped as she choked on tears. "It's stupid and selfish, isn't it? I know I don't want it because it does—in fact, I think the reason I'm even slightly opposed to the idea is because it doesn't want that. It's the one thing that I know it doesn't want, what I know it isn't trying to make me do… and, really, I'm not thinking of anyone else when I consider it. I don't think about what they'd say about it, how they'd be—for better or worse—without me. And somehow, it seems less appealing now that I know that there's really a place after death. I don't think it really means as much, knowing that. Still, I find myself attracted to the idea the same amount as I'm against it… how much of it belongs to me and how much to the thing that's just in my head is something I don't know. Every time it sounds so alluring, but I'm still reminded of everyone else. It doesn't feel like that's coming from me, though… it's like some desperate attempt someone tells a stranger in hopes they don't do it… most of it, anyway."

He knew she wasn't going to look up at him so he didn't bother trying. "Suicide isn't the way to solve any of these problems. I know that things kind of suck everywhere, and it can't be easy being in the position that you are, but… that doesn't mean the only thing you can find comfort in is your own death."

"I don't expect you to understand it. The only thing I've really ever done to people is hurt them, or cause them problems far bigger than I'm worth. I enjoyed it, and not just because it enjoyed it… That alone makes me a horrible person, doesn't it? In a world like this, the less people like me that exist the better. And beyond that… I think of the person Father was, and I can't help but wonder what—what would happen if I—" She let out a shaky sigh. "He really wasn't who Emblians still think of him as. He was abusive in just about every way he possibly could've been… physically, verbally… the only reason I exist at all is because he'd slept with a woman too dumb to say no. When we already share so much… I wonder if that's ever going to be one of them…"

"With that logic, I'm going to end up becoming friends with men who find a way to throw in a crude remark every three sentences they say—if they didn't just have a conversation about it that only got more vulgar as it continued." Alfonse carefully put his hand on hers, getting a little closer. He was aware that she'd moved her other hand so then he couldn't see her cut. "I might not understand why you seem to want this so much, but out of everyone, I think the two of us would know that the actions of our ancestors doesn't mean that we'll do the same thing. I mean, look at us… our fathers were enemies, yet here we are."

Veronica sniffed. "For the longest time… I've always just thought that I wouldn't be here if the voice didn't want me to stay, or if Xander had never tried so hard to warm up to me, or if Bruno had never came back… but there's more than that. I considered everyone in Askr as an enemy, barely even a year ago… but now I know I have allies here, too. That there are Askrans who'd hear of my death and act just as Emblians would. I have you to thank for showing me that. I just… have to keep going. For the people who need me to guide them." She got up. "Let's go back. I feel much better now… and I'll let you look at the cut when we're out of this rain, too…"

((A/N: And thus, they've bonded. Alfonse has officially become one of Veronica's adoptive brothers, just like Xander.))