Author's Note:

I'm thankful so many of you were interested in this crossover. I never would have guessed it would be so popular to tell you the truth. I expected 5-10 views, and I had over 1,000!

I had hoped this would come out sooner, but some major IRL stuff happened (Scale setting, my wife is pregnant, and that's about a 6/10 for the last 5 weeks). Hopefully I'm back on track, and can produce content at the rate I find reasonable, once or more a week.

I've got the story outlined. Going from my previous Author's Note, we don't know hardly anything about L'Arc in season 1 of the Anime, so I'm drawing on one of those terrible spoilers you see on accident and creating a backstory for him.

Chapter 2: Grief

Raphtalia watched the pair of former heroes carefully as they journeyed. Naofumi was even more quiet than usual, saying only a few words at a time, and nodding or shaking his head in response to L'Arc. He moved quickly, even setting the pace most of the time. He refused to acknowledge L'Arc's quips more than that as they walked, but they were the only thing keeping her spirit up.

L'Arc was hurting more than Naofumi, she was sure. Filo was like her little sister, or sometimes her daughter (when she daydreamed about Naofumi finally seeing her as a woman), but she knew Naofumi saw her as a daughter. He just refused to believe they would die. Terese, though, was dead. They'd seen that blow, and none of them really believed she could have survived it. Where Naofumi dealt with his loss in silence, L'Arc dealt with his by putting up a front.

"So what do you think this Hestia looks like? Ishtar said she was a goddess right? I wonder what a 'familia' is? Do you think they'll just let us in, or do you think they'll have us do some kind of test? I bet she's really gorgeous, like Ishtar. Do you think you'll fall for this Bell Cranel Raphtalia? Or are you still after Naofumi? What do you even like about that guy anyways?"

He kept up a running stream of questions, jokes, and small jabs at the pair of them. When he'd been with them on Cal Mira island, he'd been an interesting companion, and they'd been relatively happy to have him around. Now, there was a strain behind his eyes, a quiver at times with his words, especially when touching anything around women. At night, when it was her watch, she'd listen to him toss and turn. He slept shallowly, and little. He always tried to keep a smile on his face, but it wasn't hard to see the emptiness there.

For her part, Raphtalia had somehow ended up the leader of these two heroes. Neither wanted to lead, and, apart from setting a grueling pace, Naofumi would not even talk to her long enough to plan anything. So it was that she began calling for breaks and meals, planning watches, and on the outskirts of the first village they came to, was the one that did the talking.

"Hello there!" She said, smiling and waving at two men training with practice swords in a field.

She was taken aback at their level of surprise. It seemed they'd been so engrossed in their training that they'd not heard them approaching, even though L'Arc hadn't stopped talking until they'd been two hundred yards away. The older man, perhaps close to his 30's, stepped slightly forward. Neither wore a shirt, and he had the look of a professional soldier. Keeping his practice sword in hand, he watched them. The young man stood tall, almost like a noble. He put on the fake smile she'd come to associate with noblemen. It was with surprise that she saw L'Arc assume a similar stance out of the corner of her eye.

"Hello travelers. What brings you out this way? There's nothing out that way for a few hundred miles, so I'm surprised to see you here." The nobleman spoke while the other, seeing him engage them in conversation, stepped back slowly towards what looked like packs.

"We were actually on a mission for our familia's leader, she's quite particular, and got lost in the mountains. We hoped you would be able to point us back to the road to Orario?" She spoke but watched the soldier carefully.

He bent casually down and pulled on a shirt, then, just as casually, he pulled a very real sword from the ground and pulled it around his waist, tightening the belt to just the right spot, where the hilt hung at just the right position for him to draw if need be. He didn't have the scars of a soldier who'd seen the field, she could tell that easily, but he wasn't afraid.

"A goddess huh? That would explain it." The older of the two smiled and reached out, putting a hand on the soldier's shoulder. "My name is Christopher, and this is Hendricks. I'm the nobleman of this village, and I can provide lodging for the night. Which familia are you a part of?"

"Hestia is our leader." She said casually. A small lie, but she doubted even this nobleman would ask for proof. "We've just recently joined up with her familia." He nodded and turned, grabbing his own clothes from the ground.

"I've not heard of Hestia familia before, but that isn't saying much. May I ask your names?"

"I'm Raphtalia, this is Naofumi." She introduced him, pulling his hand forward, the coldness of his touch a warm shock through her.

"My name is L'Arc." He stuck his hand out, and both young men shook it.

"That is an interesting weapon you have there." Hendricks said, sizing up L'Arc. L'Arc smiled.

"Yes, but it serves me well. I've felled many a beast with this Scythe, and I expect to continue doing so in the lands around Orario." She could tell something about what he'd said had been wrong by the slight hitch in Christopher's step.

"We are thankful for your offer Lord Christopher, but I think we should continue on our way home. Hestia will be expecting us back on the appointed day, and we've got quite a distance left to travel." Christopher nodded slowly.

"I suppose you do. We'll escort you to the road, and a few of us will ride with you out towards the Road to Orario." Everything stayed cordial, but Hendricks kept himself between them and Christopher.

"May I see your practice sword?"

It just popped out, before she could stop it. Seeing a sword here, in this new world, not having one of her own, it made her feel oddly helpless. L'Arc had a weapon, but she was forced to use branches on her watch. He didn't hesitate, holding the wooden stick to her, hilt first.

She grasped the hilt, as though holding a lifeline. Her fingers tightened around the hilt and she almost sighed, holding even the shape of a blade again. It was well crafted, and was well used, the two men obviously trained often, but it was still something to hold. She held it vertical in front of her and then stepped away from the group, letting the blade dance around her.

The flow of it, as she stepped and slashed, going through the basic training exercises she'd picked up, calmed a deep seeded fear she'd carried since they'd arrived. It had been a few days, but it wouldn't be too much longer before she'd have a real blade again. She'd be Naofumi's sword once more. They'd make it to this Hestia safely and then…

Naofumi watched Raphtalia swing the wooden practice sword. She looked relieved. He didn't have much, and money from her world wouldn't work here he expected.

"Can I trade you for a real sword if you have a spare Christopher?" The young man turned from watching her as she worked. "I don't have much, but I could trade you this." He held out a small silver brooch he'd made for Queen Mirellia. It had a small ruby inset into it. "It's a real ruby, and I made the brooch myself."

"That's far too much…"

"Add some money in then, but I'm really after a sword for Raphtalia." Christopher looked at the brooch. He must have a lady at home. The piece was fit for the Queen. He'd intended it as part of a bribe to let him keep Melty with them full time. He had no use for it now.

"We don't need…" L'Arc began, but Naofumi ignored him, staring intently at Christopher.

"I can't give you very much, but I'll buy it."

In truth, one of these country lords couldn't really hope to buy a piece this fine, but… It would settle Raphtalia. She looked more peaceful there, swinging even that practice sword around. It was good to see her smile again.

Naofumi had led the party for the last two days. Raphtalia had made sure to get them moving early, and made sure they portioned the deer out carefully, but she was shaken. She did what she always did when she was upset, she tried to take care of him. He let her.

L'Arc had been easy. The man was upset, but Naofumi let him talk through his grief, as did Raphtalia. He droned on and on, trying to keep up his act, but Naofumi could see his pain. Terese had been something special to the man. He wouldn't talk about her, but it was obvious that he'd had feelings for her back on Cal Mira. There was a tightness in his smile, a weariness in his body language. Naofumi felt sorry for the man, but still watched him closely. They'd been mortal enemies only three days ago, no matter how much he liked the man.

"Let it be a surprise for her." He said as he watched Raphtalia finishing her exercises. Christopher looked from him to her and nodded. Hector wasn't paying attention to anyone but her.

"Raphtalia, let's get moving." He called curtly. She was just finishing, and she turned to them, smiling and handed Hendricks the practice sword back.

"Thank you, I lost mine a few days ago and I miss it." Hendricks just nodded, impressed by her skill it seemed. Many had been since the fight against the Pope.

"How far have you gone into the Dungeon then Miss Raphtalia? You must have been down to the middle floors with skills such as yours." Hendricks couldn't see Christopher trying to catch his eye. Floors? Dungeon? The way he'd said 'dungeon' you could hear the capital letter and the significance. What were the middle floors? Naofumi opened his mouth to answer but L'Arc spoke first.

"Naofumi here is quite cautious, as is our familia's leader. We are out here doing our last training mission before going to the middle floors." L'Arc said with confidence. "The middle floors hold dangers that can devastate the unwary, so we are trying to build up our stamina, and our cohesion as a unit before taking on that kind of challenge." Christopher nodded, and Hector looked surprised.

Deftly done, Noafumi thought to himself. L'Arc was loud and was aggressive in Naofumi's experience. It also seemed he could be deceitful easily. No matter what kind of challenges presented them in this world, the term 'devastate' could be interpreted many ways. Any type of challenge could need 'stamina', and a journey could be used to develop 'stamina' in many ways. They'd fill in the details themselves.

While likely this world was filled with monsters similar to their own, based on what Ishtar had said, this 'Dungeon' could be anything. They'd seen only forest, mountains, hills off to their left and these men. This world was still mostly a mystery, like those early days when…

Naofumi drifted off back into the self loathing and hollow place he went, mourning Filo and Melty.

L'Arc kept speaking to the men, engaging Hendricks as well, corralling him into the group of the three of them, walking ahead. Naofumi had disengaged from the world again, and Raphtalia moved to him, taking his hand and then putting his arm around her shoulders, mostly carrying him as she followed his group. The man was an insufferable weakling. He'd dragged him away from… He thrust the thoughts down and engaged the two boys in talk of their village and the lands around it.

He'd led the small party the last two days, setting up watches, and trying to keep morale up. Naofumi had seemed on the verge of one of his mental shutdowns the whole way, and Raphtalia was struggling herself. She kept busy trying to take care of Naofumi, but he could see she was on the verge of tears most of each day. Naofumi didn't seem to realize that she'd turned an ankle and had set a pace too quick for her. He'd tried to keep his barbs back, but he jabbered at the man, trying to engage his lungs to get him to slow, while keeping an eye on Raphtalia, and making sure she wasn't going to hurt herself any more. He dropped back and walked with her at a slower pace after seeing that Naofumi would not speak, forcing him to slow as he realized he was walking too quickly for them. It was infuriating.

Christopher seemed much older, but it looked more as though he was just at the age where years on a young man sit differently. He could be anywhere from 17 to 22. Hendricks looked older, a stocky man, thick in chest, thigh and bicep. He may not have seen any real battles, but he was no slouch. Unless he broke at the sight of the enemy, as some men did, he would be a great hand in a tough spot.

The two men bracketed him, so he turned from one to the other as they joked back and forth. He volunteered little about the others, but of himself he spoke of home. He told them the truth, he was from so far away there was no chance they'd heard of his homeland, which Christopher took as a challenge momentarily. The pair were earnest though, and they weren't his enemies, so he talked about home, and quickly, the truth of Terese just poured out of him.

"You should see her, she's quiet, but she can be so intense! She's a little bossy, but she's always got your best interest in mind. My father approved of me marrying her, if I chose to, before he died, and that says more than I can. She's so beautiful, but she doesn't care about her appearance at all, except her braid. If you want an easy way to know about a woman, watch her braid her hair. Terese, she was meticulous, carefully re-braiding it if it ever got too messy. While tying it though, she never stopped, untied it, and started again. And that is the easiest way to describe her. She never messed up while braiding her hair, and she always kept it meticulously neat." He choked up a bit at the end. Hendricks looked curiously from him to Christopher, but Christopher nodded.

"I've seen the same when I watch Rain set the table. The next time you are over, you'll see what he means." Christopher nodded knowingly. Hendricks seemed unsure.

"If you say so." He shrugged. "I'm not sure I'm interested in any of the girls around here though." L'Arc saw a shard of his younger self in the man.

"Let me give you a piece of advice, Hendricks. One day you'll meet a woman who will set the table or braid her hair or strum a harp with confidence. You'll look at her and you'll remember what we're talking about. When you do, don't hesitate. Don't think about it. You walk right over to her and tell her that you think you are in love with her." He couldn't help his tone, a little more biting than he wished, but if he could he would have screamed it at his past self. Don't waste a single moment with her!

"Will it be that long before you get to see your Terese then?" Hendricks didn't seem to have noticed his tone, and he didn't look back.

"Yes. I'm sure I won't see her for many years yet." Christopher patted his shoulder. The man could tell what he meant.

The pair were good men. For the first time in days he wasn't alone among enemies, and the pain he'd been holding back rushed through him. The tears he couldn't cry, the lump in his throat. The ache in his chest, like someone was squeezing his lungs and his heart.

"Hendricks, why don't you take the other two back to the house and get them something to eat before they head towards Orario. L'Arc and I will check on that bit of fence we needed to fix on our way back." Hendricks looked over and must have seen his face because he nodded at Christopher. Christopher guided him away, off away from the line they'd been walking. Hendricks dropped back to the other two, and chatted to them about the plan, but he couldn't hold it back much more than he was. He didn't look back at the others, and Christopher led, not looking back at him, giving him space.

He'd let her follow him. That was his first mistake. She should have stayed back home. Safe. Away from the danger they knew he'd be in. Why hadn't he stopped her!

"We can stay here as long as you need." Christopher stopped and sat under a tree, facing away from him. L'Arc sat a good distance away, holding the scythe and wishing he could cry and just get it over with.

He felt worse now than he'd felt even when his father had died. He'd died of natural causes, and nothing he could do, even with all his powers, had been able to prevent it. Terese though… he was supposed to protect her. HE was the hero after all, not her. Destiny had not called her, he had. His choice had killed her, and she…

Her clan had standards about intimacy and even forming intimate bonds outside of marriage. She wouldn't show anyone how she felt about him, but the pair of them knew what they shared. He knew how dangerous their road was, how he might have to lay down his life at the end of it. She didn't have to. The burden was supposed to be his! He slammed the ground with his fist.

"IT WAS MY BURDEN!" He screamed into the air. "You weren't supposed to… you said you would run if it got too dangerous. You said… I said…" L'Arc howled, the pain ripping through him like a knife. The blow from the giant replaying over and over in his mind.

He'd taken it upon himself to save their world, but he'd been saving it for her. For the hope that he'd win her father's approval. Hell, he had to admit it now, to himself. He still hoped to win her approval. He thought he'd had it, that those massages, the hand holding, the hugs and the kiss she'd given him before each trip to Naofumi's world… Had she loved him at the end? Or did she only love the Scythe Hero? He'd never know now. He would never know the sureness of the words he'd longed to hear for nearly three years now.

For a long time he sat there, the Scythe on the ground beside him. The pain ripping through him. He was a long way from home, surrounded by enemies that he had to accept were allies, as the woman he loved was dead in a world not her own, at the hands of a monster he had not killed. L'Arc Berg had been a King, but now… now he was a pawn. The pawn in a battle between goddesses, and, if he guessed right, a pawn of the losing side.

It took a long while for him to stand and gather his scythe. Christopher didn't speak when he did, he just stood and headed back in the direction they'd been traveling. He was grateful to this man he'd barely met. The first friendly person he'd seen in two days. He had laid down the burden of the present for a short while, but now, having had a moment to grieve without the others, it seemed lighter.

"The others, they aren't friends of yours then?"

"No, but also yes." He kept walking, but now, he felt he had to put it into words, Christopher's easy manner seeped into him. "Once we were mortal enemies, but now, we are on the same general mission."

"That sounds hard."

"It is." They walked along in silence for a long time before Christopher spoke again.

"Are you three going to be okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have only one small pack, only you had a weapon before now, and you are planning to walk to Orario, which could take weeks. Not to mention what you just told me. I wouldn't want to spend weeks alone with mortal enemies." L'Arc sighed, hearing how it sounded now.

"We were enemies before, but now… Now we have a common cause. I don't hate them, honestly I kind of like them. We were just on opposite sides of the battle. Now though it just seems impossible to deal with them on top of… losing her." It ripped at him to say it.

"That sounds difficult, but you can do it. You seem like a strong man L'Arc." No one had said something like that to him in years, since his father died and he'd become King. No one would be that paternalistic. From Christopher though, it didn't sound that way. The man was genuine, that much L'Arc could tell.

"I'm glad to have met you Christopher. You will lead your village well." Christopher nodded in response. "I was... part of the nobility back home. What is the story of your people? What binds this community together?"

"Story?"

"My father always said that a people are bound together by a shared experience and shared beliefs. Judging from your behaviour, I'd guess this village has deep ties to the land and to each other."

"Well you know the biggest part of course, about the Black Dragon." L'Arc shook his head. He needed more. He needed information.

"No, you need to be able to verbalize it, to tell the story of your people and pass it down. Through writing if you need to, but it should come from here." He tapped Christopher's chest, over his heart. "A people have to be bound together not by words but by love, tradition, honor, and ancestral deeds."

"What is the story of your people L'Arc?" He didn't even miss a beat.

"Long ago, our family was chosen by the sacred weapon to build a kingdom. We took the weapon and slew a great dragon that terrorized the lands around what would be our home. My ancestor came back with the head of the dragon, and mounted it on the gates of their small village. When travelers and refugees came through, they saw the dragon's head and stayed, knowing that this was a strong place, a safe place."

"My forefathers trained with the weapon, handing it down, father to son, for fifteen generations before a neighboring kingdom came to wage war, to take the weapon for themselves. Unbeknownst to the reigning king and prince, who had gone to train in the wilderness, the enemies set up a siege of the city. My ancestors withstood the siege day after day. For ten days, they held the walls, until the second son set out in secret to retrieve his father, his brother, and the weapon. He was killed within 100 feet of the walls."

"The third son built a bonfire, thinking the smoke might signal his father and brother to return. They did not see the smoke."

"The fourth son, being a skilled speaker, tried to negotiate a truce with the invaders. He was killed at the meeting."

"The fifth son was still only a child, but he was the smartest of the five. He knew that although the weapon could rip through the enemy ranks, and was therefore most suited for this, they did not have it. What they did have was a people full of courage. He made a replica of the weapon in secret, and went out to the square, calling a meeting of the townsfolk."

"'I have the weapon, but I am still too small to use it. The weapon cannot aid us in this fight.' And he cast the weapon on the ground. 'We don't need it. We are brave folk, and strong. Who will go out with me and drive off this enemy at our gates?' He was disappointed when no one raised their hands."

"Then suddenly from the back, a small voice spoke up. 'I will!' And a young boy, smaller than the fifth son, ran forward. 'I will!' A smaller girl than the first ran forward, and joined the other two. No one else moved. The fifth son stared at the crowd."

"'Fine, we three will meet the enemy, and we will fight them.' The mothers of the two screamed, but the fifth son glared at them, and they fell silent. 'None of you would join us, and you will all pay the price for it.' Then the three children went out of the gate, charged the enemy, and the two bigger boys were killed. The small girl was taken captive, and those from the city's walls heard the laughter of the enemies as they grabbed her and bound her."

"The gate fell that same day, and the whole of our people was dragged away into slavery. When the King and first son returned, they found the ruins of the city and wept. The first son, blind with rage, tried to take the weapon from the hand of his father. 'I will avenge our people father.' But the king refused."

"'No, this is an old man's battle. I will free our people with my last breath, and you will have to lead them after.' So the old king and the first son went to find the army of their enemies, righteous fury in their eyes."

"When they caught them, the king told his son to wait on the ridge of the hill overlooking the valley where the soldiers were. The 15th King walked forward and raised the weapon high in the air. When the sentries saw him, they raised the alarm. The whole of the camp came out to face the King. He screamed and unleashed a fury of swipes that reaped the heads of his enemies like wheat. Quickly he laid waste to their entire fighting force, but he was riddled with arrows in the process. With only 50 men left opposing, the 15th King fell."

"The enemy had suffered a crushing defeat, but they'd obtained the weapon. Their commander ran forward and just as he bent to snatch the weapon it evaporated. Inside the camp, the small girl held the weapon. With it, he killed the rest of the men of the army, though she was still just a child. After, when the girl tried to give the weapon to the first son, he refused."

"'My father was a great king, and a noble leader, but his sons have all failed him, including me. You are the Queen now, chosen by the weapon. You have the strength and courage to lead us.' And the first son bowed."

"Thus began the proper lineage of kings and queens. There is no royal family, only the family most recently chosen to lead. Every child could be the next king or queen, if they are the right ones, so the whole kingdom fights to be the next in line. My family is special, descended from that child, and we have had more rulers in our line than any other by a fair margin. We are strong, and courageous." When he finished, Christopher looked at him for a long time.

"How long have you been King then?" L'Arc winced. It had just slipped out at the end.

"Close to three years."

"And your people?"

"We are strong." He said, feigning confidence. "Back to your people. What is their story?" He needed information on this world, and this was the only way he could think of to get it.