Bonus I: Ayra – Epilogue
For practically her entire adult life, there had been enemies to fight. There were wars to wage and blood to be spilled. There was always a need to put her life on the line or fear a stroke of bad luck taking her beloved away from her.
And now, it had been nearly ten years since Ayra had last had to waste thoughts on such concerns.
Almost a decade had passed since Askr triumphed over Embla, though nobody was fool enough to think the credit lie anywhere but with Kiran and his Order of Heroes. The war had taken countless nasty turns – in particular, it seemed like every time they put one rival realm down, another rose to take its place – but it did ultimately come to an end. Most of their number celebrated being able to finally return home or perhaps the chance to no longer worry about some bitter foe being summoned to fight at their side.
Ayra was different. While she relished the coming peace, it certainly wasn't out of a comfort that she would no longer have to fight. Ever since she was a child, wielding a sword was all she knew, so she didn't exactly share the loathing for war most of her comrades did. No, her relief at the conflict's conclusion had two motivations. Chief among them had to do with her relationship: at long last, she and Kiran could get married and start a family after several years that, despite their unshakable love for each other, were ill-suited for rearing children.
The other was that she could finally stop carrying out the thankless task of covertly disposing of traitors in their midst.
It was ironic, really – every fatality the Order ever suffered came at her hands, and the nature of her work meant the filth she slaughtered became immortalized as martyrs rather than vilified as the snakes they were. That detail annoyed her, and her slayings definitely took their tolls at times, but she'd never condemn the whole experience as a net negative. On the contrary, some of her best non-Kiran memories came from those one-woman executions. In some sense, each was more fun than the last, in no small part because of how adept she became at making her victims suffer. She'd come to believe that anyone who condemned a good killing as 'distressing' or 'disturbing' just wasn't doing it right or didn't hate their target as much as they ought to – even over a decade after the fact, Ayra still fondly recalled Flora's screams whenever she needed a little pick-me-up.
But there was no reason to reminisce at the moment. She needed to focus on the task at hand: putting the finishing touches on Larcei and Scáthach's sandwiches. Their morning drills with their training blades were nearly finished and they'd need to have lunch ready for when they started their studies in the afternoon. The twins' preference for physical training over books made it clear they were indisputably descendants of Isaach first and foremost, but she and Kiran would be damned if they let their children be undereducated.
Fortunately for them, Kiran had them on a fast-paced curriculum that would see them far past their peers in any of Zenith's royal families. Unfortunately for her and her pride, a good chunk of their studies were quickly outpacing what she knew herself, even though they were only a little over nine years old. She could still help them with subjects such as reading and tactics with little difficulty, but was embarrassed to admit that she was beginning to struggle in regard to their math and natural philosophy lessons. In all fairness, it wasn't her fault that Isaach's tutors always glossed over those subjects, if not ignoring them outright. But she couldn't deny that it probably would've been prudent to ask Kiran for lessons at some point in the ten years they'd been married.
Ordinarily, ignorance on her part wouldn't have been a problem – Kiran handled their studies and she handled their training – but her husband wasn't home at the moment. He was off at the capital helping King Alfonse organize the ceremonies for the ten-year anniversary of Askr's victory, though he was due to return late that afternoon. Their family lived in a modest estate about half a day's travel away from the capital. Alfonse and practically everyone else with any sway in Askr wanted to give them a full-blown dukedom, with all the territory and influence that would entail, but neither she nor Kiran wanted to get caught up in Askr's politics. Kiran was reluctant to even accept the estate, given that it was maintained with public money, but the common citizenry all but demanded that he accept some form of reward for his service.
Formally, they had both been inducted into the Order of Líf, Askr's highest military honor. There were also all kinds of titles and deeds waiting for them if they ever felt like claiming some more prestige. In practice, they were content to just keep to themselves and raise their children. Every now and then, she would join a platoon of knights to deal with some brigands so as to keep her skills sharp. Kiran would sometimes accompany her for the novelty of commanding again, but it honestly wasn't necessary. The sight of her alone was enough to inspire terror in any bandits they encountered – seeing Astra's Blade and The Great Hero heading a patrol almost invariably got their foes to throw down their weapons in despair. And of course, they had the opposite effect on their allies, bolstering their pride and confidence far beyond what it would've been normally.
When it came down to it, her sword arm was mostly used these days in her children's training. Training that she'd now have to put a stop to for the day, even if the warrior in her would rather swing training blades with them until the sun set. She set their lunches on the dining table and made her way to the training grounds at the back of the estate that, in another noble's hands, probably would've been an elaborate garden. She arrived just in time to see Scáthach knock Larcei's sword out of her hand and knock his sister to the ground.
"Hey, no fair!" Her daughter complained. "My arms are shorter than yours! I can't block when you reach around like that!"
"Mother always says we have to use whatever ad…advantage we can." Her son responded with no small amount of smugness, even as he slightly stumbled over his words. "It's not my fault you can't figure out a way to beat me."
Larcei looked ready to whine some more when Ayra announced her presence by speaking up. "Your brother is right, Larcei." They both turned their attention to her as she ambled over. "I've fought plenty of opponents with a greater reach than mine. Instead of complaining that they had an unfair edge over me, I found a way to win anyway."
"Told ya!" Scáthach boasted while she helped Larcei got back on her feet.
"Alright then, fine!" The girl got back into an unsteady stance. "You won't be smiling when I prove to mom that I can beat you even with a hand…handy…"
"Handicap." Ayra finished for her as she helped to dust off her tunic. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait until tomorrow to try. It's lunchtime, and that means you'll start working on your studies once we're done eating."
"Aw, come on, mom!" Larcei griped with a stomp of the foot. "Just another half-hour of training? Please? I promise I could beat Scáthach if I had another chance!"
Ayra fixed her daughter with a gentle, but firm gaze. "Now, young lady. No arguing."
"Yes ma'am…" She conceded, her head hanging low. Larcei was usually the one to push for extra training time, but Ayra hadn't been fool enough to give it to her in years – she knew perfectly well that 'another half-hour' would turn into the entire afternoon before she realized it.
"Your father is supposed to be back today." She reminded them. "What would he think if he returned to find you two neglecting your lessons?"
"He'd probably give us extra homework, for one…" Scáthach speculated, nervously rubbing his arm in memory of the last time he tried to get out of Kiran's lectures.
"And then you'd lose out on even more training time." She concluded for them. "So come on inside. Besides, you're both hungry from all your sparring, aren't you?" As if she'd been trying to time her question, their stomachs chose that moment to loudly grumble. She grinned while they both blushed and averted their eyes. "I guess that answers that question." She grabbed their training swords, giving each a kiss on the forehead as she did so. "Alright, you two, lunch is on the table. Go get yourselves freshened up at the well first while I put these away – then we'll eat."
"Okay, mother!" They simultaneously cheered and scampered off to do as she'd asked. It took no time at all to store their wooden blades with the others, though she noticed they were starting to run low on fresh, unnicked swords. I suppose that's natural, given the rate we use them. She mused, making a mental note to have an order for more made when the servants next stopped by.
Unlike most nobles, they didn't have a serving staff that lived on-site with them, which was why Ayra had prepared lunch herself. She'd already learned from her time in the Order that maids couldn't be trusted (the look on Felicia's face when Ayra told her what really happened to Flora had been priceless), and she didn't much care for the thought of any butlers sneaking glances at her when they thought she wasn't looking. If she hated the idea of other women looking at Kiran, it was only fair to extend the same attitude to other men and herself, no? They couldn't maintain a whole estate on their own, however, so a cadre of servants stopped by once a week to make everything clean again, deliver foodstuffs and supplies, and take their orders for anything else they needed.
She returned indoors to find her kids situating themselves into the chairs, their now damp hair still dripping a few droplets of water onto the floor around them. She didn't delay in joining them, a sandwich of her own waiting at the empty place between them. It wasn't a fancy meal by any stretch of the imagination – just sliced bread surrounding salted meat, cheese and lettuce delivered from the royal garden – but it was filling and easy to both make and produce ingredients for. She actually did have some measure of skill in cooking thanks to her time escaping Isaach all those many years ago (a fact which always surprised everyone who learned of it), but she was only really willing to put that kind of time and effort into dinner every now and then. At the very least, she was a better cook than Kiran, who endlessly complained about the lack of precise units to measure temperature or ingredient amounts making it impossible to properly cook anything.
They'd barely been eating for half a minute before Larcei got a conversation going. "Mom," she asked somewhat uncertainly after swallowing a mouthful, "who's Shannan?"
The unexpected question gave Ayra pause, necessitating her to restart her chewing once she got her bearings. "Where'd you hear that name?" She asked, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.
"Dad mentioned it just before he left." Scáthach informed her, unaware of how agitated the mention of their cousin made her. "We were asking him if he knew what King Alfonse would do to honor all the Heroes at the victory festival. He said he wasn't sure, but when we left his office, we heard him mutter about someone named Shannan. I don't think he wanted us to hear him, but he sounded kind of upset…"
"We tried looking for him in the records of the Order," Larcei continued in her brother's stead, "but he wasn't in there. I mean, he's gotta be a Hero, right? So who is he and why wasn't he there?"
I should've known this day was coming sooner or later… She bit back a sigh and put her meal back on the plate. Really, I ought to be surprised it's taken this long for Kiran to let something slip.
Before she explained her nephew to the kids, she reviewed what he was to her and Kiran. To her husband, Shannan was a noble man who, after unexpectedly falling under the sway of an enemy berserk staff, had to be tragically put down by her. In her grief and sympathy for her fallen nephew, she requested to Kiran that he be officially declared killed-in-action by a swarm of Múspellian halberdiers, so as to spare his honor. He complied without hesitation and the two agreed to avoid ever speaking of him to their children, lest their anguish over his regretful fate show.
To her, Shannan was a cur whose only regretful trait was that he'd been corrupted by his overexposure to that backstabbing whore during Sigurd's campaign. As an easily impressionable boy, he'd spent all his time around Deirdre, which she figured was the only explanation for his inexcusable treachery towards her when they reunited in the Order of Heroes. He'd been there since even before she and Kiran became an item, and thus should've understood full well how much she loved the summoner. Yet, when he stumbled onto her eviscerating that scum Tethys during their three-man scouting patrol into Múspell's borders, he'd had the utter gall to denounce her as a traitor!
Naturally, she explained what she was doing, but he kept his sword drawn and decried her as being insane, of all things! Even after she pointed out that he ought to support her on account of his debt to her for taking him into her care after Isaach fell, he refused to back down. So she'd had little choice but to cut him apart, though realizing the depths of his ingratitude meant she didn't exactly lose sleep over it. He at least had the decency to put up a good fight – facing Balmung in action was an unforgettable experience – but he clearly wasn't as determined to kill her as she was him. Still, he gave her plenty of fresh scars, which made it trivial to sell a story to Kiran and the rest of the Order. Her berserk staff lie was just an excuse to avoid suspicion – it was an easy way to explain her injuries to Kiran, get him to make sure everyone avoided examining the corpse too closely, and get out of ever having to talk about him again.
It was an excuse she'd have no choice but to repeat now, lest her children's loose lips let something slip to Kiran. "Shannan was…" she finally began, pausing to give a quiet sigh, "my nephew. Which means he was your cousin."
"He's family?!" Scáthach exclaimed.
"Wha- then why isn't he in the records?!" Larcei followed up without missing a beat. "And why didn't you or dad ever tell us about him?!"
"Both of you, calm down and listen to me." She sternly ordered in the same voice all mothers instinctively used to silence their unruly children. As expected, they clammed up and sat still, though their eyes still burned with curiosity. "We didn't want to tell you about him until you were older – old enough to understand what happened to him."
"What…what happened to him?" Scáthach dared to ask, his trepidation clear to hear.
She locked her fingers together on the table and tried to hide her contempt with feigned remorse as best she could. "We were on patrol together when we were suddenly ambushed by Múspellians. Before either of us knew what was happening, he…was struck by an enemy cleric's berserk staff."
"Those staffs make you go crazy and attack whatever you see, right?" Larcei asked, before her eyes widened as she realized the implication of that description. "T-Then, does…does that mean…?"
"I had to stay alive for your father's sake." She decided to answer. "No matter what, or who, became a threat."
"T-that's…" Scáthach muttered, his eyes fixed on his shaking hands.
His sister's response was similarly subdued. "I-I'm sorry, mommy…" If Larcei was using that form of address, Ayra knew she must've been greatly upset. "I shouldn't have asked about him…" She hiccupped and sniffled as a few tears started forming in her eyes. "Now, I've made you remember something so awful…!"
"Shh…" She hushed and wrapped her arms around them both to bring them in for a hug. They threw their arms around her waist and buried their faces in her torso. "It's fine, Larcei, you didn't know. It happened a long time ago – too long for me to still be troubled by it. We didn't tell you for your sakes, not ours. That's why we kept him out of the records: so you wouldn't want to ask about him before we thought you were ready."
"B-but father sounded really upset when he mentioned him." Scáthach murmured into the cloth of her tunic. "It's so horrible, and we were too stupid to tell he didn't want to talk about it."
She stifled a sigh – in hindsight, it was obvious that even though she couldn't have cared less about Shannan's death, Kiran would still lament his loss. After all, in his ignorance, he still grieved for all the treacherous whores she'd disposed of over the years, so it wasn't like she wasn't used to him wasting tears on cur that didn't deserve it.
She rubbed her hand along the back of his head. "Your father has always mourned lost Heroes more than most. It's not your fault you didn't know that's what Shannan was. We just won't tell him anything about what you've learned."
"Won't tell me what now?"
She and both the kids jumped in their seats at the sudden sound of Kiran's voice in the dining room. They turned their attention to see him standing in the entry way, his travelling cloak still wrapped around his shoulders. She must've been so caught up in comforting the twins that she didn't hear him come through the front door.
"Father!" Larcei exclaimed, her eyes dried by his sudden appearance. "I thought you said you wouldn't be back until later!"
"I left the capital early to get home as soon as possible." He explained while taking off his cloak and approaching the table. "And I'm glad I did. What's gotten you two to hug your mother so tight like that? And to look so upset while you're doing it?"
"I…we…" Scáthach hesitated to explain, having taken her instruction to stay silent to heart.
But he'd already heard and seen that much – there was no point in trying to keep in him the dark. "They heard you mention Shannan before you left, and…I just got finished describing what happened to him."
Kiran's expression instantly deflated from confusion to sympathy. "Oh no…" Without missing a beat, he kneeled next to her to embrace their children as well. "I'm so sorry about that, you two. You didn't need to know about him – not yet, anyway."
She felt Larcei untangle an arm to wrap it around Kiran. "It's okay, dad. We understand why you never talked about him, and we know you didn't mean for us to hear you."
"I'm glad to hear that." He said and began rubbing the top of her head. "You've both always been so bright. I know you probably don't want to talk about it anymore, but if you do, I'm always here for you."
"As am I." Ayra assured them, her words backed up by a tightening of her grip to pull them closer. In all honesty, she would much rather not talk about her good-for-nothing nephew anymore, but she'd be willing to endure it for the sake of her children.
"Thanks, but," Scáthach began and caught his sister's eye, "I think dad's right – we don't really want to talk about it…" Ayra felt Larcei nod against her chest, all but confirming they were due for a change in topic.
"Of course." Kiran said before scanning his eyes over the table. "I can see I walked in on the middle of lunch – how about you two tell me everything I've missed while I make myself a sandwich?"
It was a fairly stiff attempt at shifting the conversation, but the kids latched onto it all the same. Their faces visibly lit up and they let go of her to give Kiran their full attention. Before one of them could start rambling, she got to her feet and joined him by the nearby counter that still had meat and dairy laid out on it. She wrapped her arm over his shoulder and leaned in for a kiss chaste enough to be seen by their children.
"I'll lend a hand," she glanced back to shoot the twins a knowing smile, "and make sure you two don't leave anything out for your father." Her smile widened when, after a brief glance at each other, they started scrambling to be the first to tell Kiran what had transpired in his absence.
"Oh?" Kiran intoned between bites. "So that means Scáthach has the winning record now?"
"Only until tomorrow!" Larcei insisted. "Just wait, dad – I'll have him beat first thing in the morning!"
"Says you!" Scáthach refuted. "You're going to wish you stayed in bed when I whoop you in front of mother and father!"
"You should both avoid making boasts until the match is over." Ayra chided them. "You only get to brag once you've actually won."
"Well, dad did just say I have the winning record." Her son pointed out with a smug cross of his arms. Larcei couldn't argue with that, so she had to settle for pouting and grumbling under her breath.
Kiran responded by patting her head. "I wouldn't get too proud if I were you – neither of you ever manages to take the lead for very long. If Larcei's as determined as she looks to even the score, you're in for quite a fight tomorrow." His assurances raised her mood, causing Larcei to straighten in her seat and lean into his hand.
"You know," Ayra began after taking a moment to smile at the scene before her, "you've both told him all about what you've been doing with me while he was gone…but we've yet to hear anything about the work he left behind for you."
They both stiffened, which Kiran instantly latched onto. "You have been keeping up with your studies, right?" He asked in the familiar tone he always used when either of them tried to weasel out of academics.
"Of course we have!" Larcei insisted. "We finished reading chapter five and started chapter six of 'Introductory Tactics', did the exercises on adding fractions, and read all your notes on those laws of how things move. You know, what's-his-name's three laws."
"Yeah, um, New-Newton's laws." Scáthach clarified for her. "Stuff moves or stays still unless you do something to it, the…the force depends on how big something is and its ac-accel…" he paused to think, "acc-el-er-ation, and whenever you push stuff, it pushes back just as hard. We even solved the questions about them you left for us."
"We did all that." Larcei assured him, but started nervously wringing her hands together. "It just took forever. You had the answers written down, but that was all we had if we didn't understand something. I mean, mom didn't know how to do any of it except the tactics, so Scáthach and I just had to figure stuff out on our own when it didn't make sense."
Ayra had to suppress the urge to wince that struck her when Larcei innocuously mentioned how inept she was becoming at helping the with their studies. Okay, maybe I should've learned how to add fractions at some point, she told herself, but Newton is some long-dead scholar from Kiran's world! It's not my fault I have no idea who he is!
"But you did figure it out," she was pulled from her internal justifications by Kiran's voice, "because you've both always been very bright." He reached out his arms to bring them into a hug that they eagerly reciprocated. "You're leagues beyond where I was at your age – if you keep sharpening your minds as much as your sword arms, there's no telling what you'll be able to do once you're all grown up." They beamed with pride at Kiran's praise, their joy a reminder that for all their complaining, they would always put effort into their studies if only to make their father proud of them.
"Of course, now that I'm back, we can go over anything you still feel unsure about. After all, it is just about the afternoon."
"Yeah, that'd probably be a good idea…" Scáthach admitted, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "But while we're still eating, what was it like in the capital, dad? Did anything happen?"
"Oh, nothing much." Kiran said after another bite. "Just planning for the festival next week, which you aren't getting any hints about – it'd spoil a good chunk of the fun if I ruined all the surprises. Though," he paused to give his son a sly look, "I did get asked by Princess Lethia if you'd be there, Scáthach. In fact, she went out of her way to ask me."
Oh? Ayra thought, turning to shoot Scáthach an impish glance of her own. Does Sharena and Jeorge's daughter have her eye on my boy? The small grin on her face grew exasperated by his response. "Um, alright? I guess we haven't seen each other in a while. I don't know why she'd care, it's not like she's ever liked sword-fighting." Oh, Scáthach… She shook her head too softly for him to notice and met Kiran's eye, the two of them sharing silent amusement at their son's denseness. I was an exception, but I've always heard that girls care much more about romance at that age than boys.
As if to prove her right, Larcei timidly spoke up at that exact moment. "What…what about me?" She asked, her reddened cheeks ducked in an uncharacteristic display of shyness. "Did Prince Amalric ask you if I was going to show up?"
Now that was a surprise. Judging by the slight widening of his eyes, Kiran was just as caught off guard by their daughter's apparent crush as she was. I never would've imagined she'd develop feelings for Amalric of all boys. He's got plenty of Alfonse's grit, but I always thought there was too much Clarine in him for Larcei's taste.
Unfortunately, judging by the way his lips grew taut, Larcei was due for disappointment. "Well, no, he didn't." The bad news instantly deflated her mood, prompting Kiran to try and damage control. "But then, I'm not sure I ever even saw him outside dinner the whole time I was there. In fact, now that I think about it, Hríd and Thea's girl, Sylvi, came over early with Ylgr and Ewan and was probably spending the days playing with him."
Oh, Kiran… she mentally lambasted him. It looked like Scáthach wasn't the only dense one if he seriously thought mentioning that Amalric was hanging around another girl would make Larcei feel better. Sure enough, her frown contorted into a scowl and she hissed under her breath with clenched fists, "Of course she was. That's always what she's doing!"
Since Kiran had totally fumbled his attempt to lift Larcei's spirits, the task now fell to her. "Don't worry, Larcei," Ayra assured her as she rubbed her back, "you'll have plenty of time to be with Prince Amalric at the festival."
"Yeah, I guess…" She mumbled, her anger giving way to a surprising slump. Larcei, normally dogged and spirited, was awfully quick to regress into defeatism and…shame? If that was shame she saw, what in the heavens could she possibly be ashamed for?
She didn't have long to think about it, because Kiran took up control of the conversation again. "Okay…" he said, his tone indicating that he was about to say something he shouldn't, "maybe I could give you two a few hints about what'll be at the festival." They both perked up, their eyes alight with curiosity and excitement. "Alfonse made me swear to keep things under wraps," he turned to shoot Ayra a knowing look, "but our friendship just wouldn't be what it is if I didn't do the opposite of what he said every once in a while. And since you'll know some of the best spots ahead of time," he leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper, "you'll know where to take Amalric and Lethia first thing."
Larcei really brightened up at that, though Scáthach still looked confused as to why he'd even care about showing Princess Lethia around. "That'd be great, father!" She chirped, her earlier depression totally forgotten.
He went on to describe various game stalls, performances and concerts that would happen over the several days the festival would last. It was all the same to her – she'd never gotten much enjoyment out of festivals (even in peace, she couldn't help but feel they were a waste of time), so her plan had just been to do whatever Kiran or the kids wanted. But she wouldn't deny how content it made her to watch her children grow excited at the thought of all they'd get to do.
As far as she was concerned, whatever made her family happy made her happy too.
A week later, the festival itself had come, and while Ayra could get some enjoyment by proxy from her husband and children, none of them were thrilled at the first item on the agenda. They didn't attend nearly as many formal functions as they used to just after the war ended, but she still detested having to stand and look pretty at opening and closing ceremonies just as much now as she did back then. Unfortunately, there was no possible way she could get out of such decorum at an event as large as the ten-year anniversary of the war's end.
Her family had arrived in the capital the earlier night too late to join the visiting royalty and Askr royal family for dinner (she and Kiran had agreed to give the kids some last-minute sword training before the festival that ended up going longer than they intended), so they hadn't had much occasion to get reacquainted with everyone. Which, aggravatingly, meant they had to make up for lost time now in the morning before they took their places on the stage that had been constructed just outside the castle walls so Alfonse could address his people on a more personable level.
Well, the reality of the situation was that Kiran and the twins were getting reacquainted with everyone. Her husband had shared more idioms from his world over their years together, and she had grown fond of one in particular: 'the more things change, the more they stay the same'. In this case, that referred to the fact that nobody really liked her any more now than they had a decade ago when she was in the Order. At best, she was respected for her martial prowess and relationship with Kiran and was merely tolerated at worst for her tendency to be nearby when Heroes died and not care about their passing. But of course, her husband was still admired even all these years later and those that knew them had also taken a shine to their twins. Which meant people had to put up with her and she them, whether any of them liked it or not.
"It really has been too long, my friend." Hríd greeted Kiran with a firm shake of the hand. "Surely you're not so busy that you can't make a few more trips north every year?"
"Yeah, Kiran, Askr's not the only kingdom that cares about you!" Ylgr piped up, Ewan trailing behind her. "What would Gunnthrá and Fjorm say if they knew you weren't visiting?"
"Come now, Ylgr, it isn't right to try and guilt trip him." Thea chided her sister-in-law. "In all seriousness, it's great to see you again." She spared a glance and respectful nod for her Isaachian counterpart. "Ayra, you're looking well."
"As are you." She complimented. "The years remain kind to us both."
Ewan, by sharp contrast, settled for a silent look that conveyed both resentment and mistrust. He'd developed quite a distaste for her ever since she 'failed to save' Lucina. That distaste evolved into outright animosity when she similarly 'failed to save' Tethys from the frenzied Shannan. The fact that he could at least blame her bloodline on the death of his elder sister emboldened his contempt for her. She'd kept tabs on him ever since, just in case she needed to dispose of him for digging too deep, but fortunately for him, it never came to that. His impotent seething was always good for a laugh, but he wasn't worth thinking about otherwise.
Thea might've been like him had Ayra been anywhere near Shanna's corpse when it was found. At the time, though nobody would say it out loud, she could tell a few of the more paranoid Heroes had started growing suspicious of her since she almost always happened to be nearby when someone died. So, to throw them off her trail, she'd dealt with Shanna by leading the naïve idiot into a trap by Muspell's forces she'd learned about by skimming through the confidential intelligence reports in Kiran's office. By the time someone stumbled onto her mangled remains, she'd been happily cuddling with Kiran in their bed for hours, and so her silent detractors were forced to admit that maybe some Heroes really did just die because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Of course, even if they knew the truth, the both of them still ought to have been on their knees thanking her. After all, if it hadn't been for her killing their treacherous siblings, they wouldn't have found the love they did. Those two had gotten so wrapped up in their grief that the consolations Hríd and Ylgr offered meant more than a more banal interaction might've. Someway, somehow, sparks of affection were born between the two pairs. Thea and Hríd, she could understand – the pegasus knight was from the frozen north of Elibe already and shared the prince's humorless disposition – but neither she nor anybody else had ever managed to figure out what drew Ewan, a desert rat, and Nifl's youngest princess together. Maybe birds of a feather flocked together and opposites attracted.
Regardless, they had both stayed in Zenith after the war, though only one was still bothering to give her the time of day. Thea moved on from Ayra to Larcei, who was clutching her mother's hand. "You've gotten a lot bigger, Larcei. Still trying to be a swordmaster like your mother, I imagine?"
"Of course I am! I'm going to get just as big and just as strong as mother in no time!"
"Don't forget about me!" Scáthach piped up, his own hand wrapped around Kiran's. "I'm working just as hard. I didn't even take a day to tie our dueling record after she took the lead a few days ago!"
"Yeah, and I didn't take a day to tie you a couple days before that!" Larcei shot back without missing a beat. "The second we get back home, I'll have the lead again and be sure to keep it!"
"Alright, you two, leave it at the sparring ring." Kiran gently brought them back to heel. He turned his attention back to the Niflese couples to find them (even Ewan) trying and failing to suppress grins. "Well, you can see our kids are the same as ever. But where's Sylvi? After she came over early, I'd have thought she'd want to be with her parents again."
Hríd prepared to respond when his expression changed and he looked behind them. "Well, speak of the devil…"
They turned around to see Askr's royal family rounding the corner. Among them was Princess Sylvi, who was practically brushing shoulders with Prince Amalric at Clarine's side. The moment Ayra took in that sight, she felt her hand tighten under a surprising amount of pressure. She glanced down to see Larcei scowling, her free hand clenching just as tight as the one being held. And, if she strained her hearing, she could make out a distinct rumbling sound coming from her daughter's throat. Is Larcei…growling?
She didn't have long to think about that before Sylvi's voice boomed across the hall. "Hello father, mother!" She called out and began scampering towards them.
Her graceless approach earned an outstretched hand from Clarine that stopped her in her tracks. "My dear, please, you are a princess!" The queen admonished. "You must take care to conduct yourself in a manner befitting a girl of your station. Now, walk elegantly towards King Hríd and Queen Thea with the proper control and dignity." Her final instruction was delivered with closed eyes, giving the others in her group a chance to all share a knowing look. Still, Sylvi did as she was instructed, the rest of her company following in her steps.
Honestly, now that she thought about it, Thea and Hríd were the only couple outside herself and Kiran that made any sense to her. Clarine had always struck her as nothing but a less competent, slightly less incestuous version of Lachesis – what in the hell had she or Alfonse ever seen in each other? She didn't know Jeorge that well, but she supposed he appreciated Sharena's earnestness and honesty; if she remembered correctly, he resented his own noble family for their duplicity. It spoke volumes of his love for Sharena that he would continue to endure court to be with her. In a similar vein, Clarine must have dearly loved Alfonse to be willing to live without her beloved brother.
All things considered, Sharena didn't realize how much she needed to appreciate Jeorge's love. Back during the war, Ayra had been growing wary that maybe Sharena wanted to be more than just Kiran's 'best friend'. After a particularly enthusiastic, touchy-feely victory celebration, she resolved to deal with the airheaded princess by the end of the next moon cycle. But before she had the chance, Jeorge and Sharena announced their relationship. When she immediately toned down the physical affection for Kiran to reserve more of it for her new lover, Ayra was willing to admit she'd been mistaken and let Sharena be.
Of course, she still kept an eye on Askr's princess, even to this day. Only a fool trusted a potential threat while it still breathed.
While she mused, the gap between their two groups had been closed, providing Clarine the chance to stand before her and Kiran and give them an earful. "You two simply must manage your time better. Imagine how worried I was waiting for you all last night! And then you arrived too late for us to so much as exchange words over tea! I should hope you usually set a better example for Larcei and Scáthach than that."
"We, uh, we try, Clarine." Kiran said. Ayra didn't even bother trying to play Clarine's game – neither of them had ever met her absurd standards and she'd never been the type to care about such things anyway. To say nothing of the insult of implying that she didn't know how to raise her children.
Of far more interest was the little interaction going on at his side, where Princess Lethia was chatting with their son. "H-hello, Scáthach. It's wonderful to see you again. I don't believe we've had the chance to be together since my birthday four months ago."
"Oh, hey, Lethia. It's good to see you too." The girl's blush grew as he spoke to her, which held her tongue and left him unsure of what to say. "…Um, is the magic coming along alright?"
She beamed and clasped her hands together. "Y-yes! Aunt Clarine is a wonderful teacher, busy as she is. And, of course, mother and father are always very supportive. I imagine you're becoming even better with a sword."
Ayra had always thought the gods must've gotten turned around on who was supposed to get what personality when creating Lethia – by all accounts, the girl ought to have been exuding physicality and energy on account of whom her parents were. But instead, she was shy and inclined towards magic, and she could've only gotten the latter from her maternal grandmother. Really, Sylvi was more what she'd expect out of Sharena's daughter, and even she felt too spirited to have come from wet blankets like Thea and Hríd (though she wasn't really one to talk).
Since Scáthach cared about swordplay above all else, bringing that up was a sure way to earn his favor. "Yeah, all the time! Larcei thinks she's all that, but just the other day I beat her almost without getting hit at all! Oh, and before that, mother started showing us this new technique…"
There you go, Scáthach… She thought, both exasperated at how quickly he started rambling and amused at how engrossed Lethia was despite having no investment in the subject. At least one of you is getting along with your peers…
Larcei, meanwhile, was torn between excitement at speaking to Amalric and frustration at Sylvi's continued presence. "So, Amalric, you ready for the festival?"
"Naturally!" He replied in a refined tone that was no doubt born of countless practice sessions with his mother. "I'm particularly excited at the prospect of seeing the Askran National Orchestra perform the movement written by Sir Shigure of the Order of Heroes."
Larcei's eyes lit up – that was one of the events Kiran had disclosed a week hence before anyone else was supposed to know about it. But before she could capitalize on the opportunity, Sylvi cut in. "Oh, that sounds neat! Up in Nifl, we usually play Lady Azura's compositions since she fought alongside my aunt Fjorm."
Larcei's response was both quick and caustic. "Then you should skip this since you won't get anything out of it anyway." Ayra resisted the urge to sigh at her daughter's tactlessness; if Amalric's stunned expression was any indication, her up-front bitterness had done her more harm than good.
Before she or one of the kids could say something, Alfonse interrupted all the little conversations going on. "Well, I think we've all gotten suitably reacquainted before the opening ceremonies! We can't leave the people waiting forever, can we?" He clasped Kiran on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Kiran, I'll try to leave some glory for you to enjoy at the closing ceremonies." That was one silver lining about all this: while she'd have to put up with Alfonse's rambling at the festival's start, the Great Hero would be the one speaking at its end. Which meant she'd at least be able to care about what was being said when everything as over.
"Please, you'll be lucky if they don't boo you off the stage." Kiran shot back, both of them chuckling as they led the way outside. Ayra and the others followed in their footsteps, though she knew they weren't as irritated by the upcoming rite as she was. Thankfully, this assembled lot was everyone she had to put up with – Bruno and Veronica felt they didn't deserve to stand at Askr's side onstage and would begin attending later in the festival and Eir was waiting to show up until the initial crowds became more dispersed.
As she walked, from the corner of her eye she could see Larcei shooting a dirty look at Sylvi and clenching her fists again.
Ayra had to remind herself that this wouldn't take long – half an hour at most. But by the gods, she knew a good chunk of this was going to be dull beyond compare.
Kiran was seated directly behind and to the right of Alfonse, while Ayra and their twins sat directly to his right. At the end of their line, adjacent to Scáthach, were Ylgr and Ewan. At the king's left was his son, his sister and her family, with Hríd's family at the end. Clarine was standing at Alfonse's side to support him as he spoke. Annoyingly, one of the little formalities they had to put up with was maintaining proper stature while they sat – she'd always been frustrated by such noble etiquette ever since she was a little girl. If their fidgeting was any indication, her children had inherited her distaste.
The crowd watched with bated breath as Alfonse cleared his throat and began a flowery speech that Ayra didn't care enough to listen to. It was some nonsense or another about the importance of cooperation and tolerance even in peace times; whatever it was, she wasn't exactly the intended audience and wasn't liable to be quizzed about it after the fact anyway. Even if he'd never admit it, she sincerely doubted that Kiran cared all that much about it either – the way she saw it, actions spoke louder than words, and they'd both already proven themselves committed to the spirit of Alfonse's chatter during the war.
She did pay the barest modicum of attention, however, if only to catch when Alfonse finally moved on to a subject she did care about: listing off the names of every worthless snake she'd exterminated over the years. Thinking about the fate of any one of them always made her feel all warm inside, so being reminded of all of them in sequence would do wonders for her mood and patience. And so, taking care to keep a smile off her face, she eagerly tuned back into Alfonse's voice.
"Princess Lucina, the first noble, selfless Hero who gave her life so that we here today could be free." Ah, of course, Lucina. Ayra had been satisfied with her death at the time, but in hindsight, she couldn't believe she'd let that bitch get off with such a painless demise. What had she been thinking, giving her nothing but a single stab through the chest? At the least, she could've cleaved halfway through her neck, then stabbed through her gut, and still had time to mock her for her failure before the rest of her patrol caught on. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. Lucina was far from the most underhanded whore she'd killed, so she could live with letting her off easy back when she was just starting out.
"Deirdre, Lady of the Spirit Forest of Jugdral." Oh, Ayra had started planning how to kill that traitor from the very second Kiran told her she'd been summoned. Thanks to her unforgivable betrayal at Belhalla, Deirdre didn't even need to try and steal Kiran to earn a death sentence, but she was hardly surprised to see her making the attempt. Being with Kiran brought her joy, did it? Well, cutting her into ribbons with an Emblian dagger Ayra had swiped from a battlefield brought her far greater joy. In her opinion, the best part of the kinds of secluded woods Deirdre liked to frequent was that they didn't have any witnesses.
Alfonse went through several more traitors whose deaths had given her great satisfaction: Guinevere, Sanaki, Cordelia…he even spoke of his dear departed mother, who'd gotten too curious for her own good and needed to be silenced just as Shannan had. But it wasn't until he hit a certain name that her composure nearly faltered entirely. He spoke of a 'Hero' whose duplicity was matched only by the agony Ayra was all too thrilled to put her through.
"Elise, youngest princess of Nohr." Now that had been a fun one. Ayra had actually been stupid enough to trust that brat after her token support of her and Kiran's relationship, which made it sting all the more when she saw the blonde hugging the summoner and realized she'd been plotting against her just like all the others. Ayra intended to make the price of her treachery steeper than anyone else's thus far and was delighted to find the gods granting her their favor.
She and Elise, along with four other Heroes, had been sent to guard a Niflese village from a Múspellian raiding parties. Ayra had intended to concoct some excuse to get Elise off by herself at some point so she could properly take vengeance without being interrupted, but those plans were scrapped when they arrived to find the village already a smoldering ruin. The fact that several fires were still burning kept them all on guard, and their caution was soon vindicated by an ambush.
A pitched battle followed that saw every one of them bleeding and battered by the end, with Ayra alone still capable of fighting. Elise's staff had long since burned out and the little wretch could barely crawl, let alone stand. Ayra could see that she was being given a golden opportunity to drag out Elise's suffering as long as she wanted – she even had plenty of fires to approach her execution from a new angle.
And all that stood in her way was four exhausted Heroes who couldn't do a damn thing to stop her.
"Y-you monster!" Elise cried after another failed attempt to support herself atop her injured legs. "How could you, Ayra?! HOW COULD YOU?!"
"Hmph." She scoffed as she pulled her blade from the sheathe of Oscar's torso. "What're you getting so upset for? It's your fault they're dead, after all. If you didn't want me to kill them so I could get to you, maybe you shouldn't have tried to steal Kiran away from me." Her lips contorted into a sardonic grin and began ambling towards her target. "Besides, anyone who ends up in their kinds of sorry states after a fight like that isn't worth keeping alive anyway. Once I'm finished with you, I'll have killed two birds with one stone. I only wish Kiran could understand how much I'm doing for him."
"What?!" She exclaimed in what Ayra thought was mostly an attempt to hide her fear while she impotently scrambled backwards. "You're betraying him and everything he believes in, you sick, evil freak!"
At once, Ayra's grin dipped into a contemptuous grimace. "You're going to wish you hadn't said that." The one thing she never let her targets get away with was insinuating that she was a traitor. Everything, everything she did was for Kiran's sake, and she refused to put up with worthless filth like Elise insinuating otherwise. She loved him more than anything or anyone and wasn't about to let anybody suggest that her feelings were nothing less than absolute.
She closed the gap and wasted no time seizing Elise's wrist to start dragging her to a still raging flame. "NO!" The hapless girl protested and, for what little good it did her, began kicking and flailing. "Let me go! LET ME GO!"
"I don't know about you, Elise, but I'm curious." Ayra said in a banal, conversational tone. "If I stick your hand into this fire, how long do you think it'll take for it to char entirely?" She spared her captive a disinterested glance. "I suppose there's only one way to find out, huh?"
"No…" She whimpered, her defiance replaced by fear now that she was fully aware of what was in store for her. "Ayra, please! Please don't do this! Please, I'm begging you!"
Despite the earlier souring of her mood, the sight of terrified tears pouring out of Elise's eyes managed to put a small smile back on Ayra's face. "By all means," she said and pressed her knee into the girl's back to keep her from squirming, "scream as much as you want." Appropriately, Elise's breath became more frantic and panicked as Ayra pulled her hand closer to the licking flames.
"But nobody's going to be able to hear you."
It took every ounce of willpower Ayra had to not start wistfully sighing with a content smile on her face. Elise had been a rare opportunity to do whatever she wanted: burns, broken bones, lacerations…if she could think of it, she'd probably done it to the Nohrian. The only thing that kept her grounded was the sound of Kiran sniffling at her side. The real crying shame was that he'd never fully understand just how much she loved him, but that was a small price to pay for keeping him safe and (mostly) happy. She barely noticed when Alfonse continued recounting more names that should've been spat like curses rather than honored as heroes:
Nephenee, whom she'd drowned in a river by holding her head beneath the water's surface…
Palla, who had been thrown from her pegasus mid-flight after being stupid enough to accept Ayra's clandestine request to ride with her…
Priscilla, whom she'd beaten to death with her own healing staff…
The circumstances of their deaths varied, but she always made sure there was an explanation that didn't point towards her. Like how she'd held off on sending Palla plummeting to the ground until after they'd been beset by enemy fliers and waited until there were Múspellian berserkers whose corpses she could use as props before she caved Priscilla's skull in. Ayra developed quite the reputation for being the sole survivor of disastrous battles, but the sentimental fools that filled the Order were all too happy to accept her explanation that she refused to die and leave Kiran alone (which wasn't even a lie, strictly speaking).
Much as she loved reminiscing about her glory days, it was becoming genuinely difficult to maintain her mask of remorse. So, in order to spare herself the awkwardness of chuckling on the stage of what was supposed to be a memorial service, she forced herself to tune out Alfonse's spiel after the first two-dozen names. It wasn't like she would miss anything in the long run – she could just finish the recollection on her own once she had the safety of privacy again.
Eventually, she felt the mood lift and began to pay attention once again. The somber head bows gave way to more exultant mannerisms – apparently, Alfonse had gotten through the shift from lamenting death to celebrating life. Accordingly, Kiran snaked his hand down to grasp hers, giving her an excuse to finally let herself smile.
"And so, let us not wallow in the grief of lost friends." Alfonse proclaimed to the crowd. "Instead, let us revel in the peace that their noble sacrifices have bought us. Let us consecrate this day as the moment blood no longer needed to be shed and swords could be turned back into plowshares. For a decade now, our world of Zenith has been blessed with tranquility and concord – and may our blessings endure for a millennium hence!"
A great cheer bellowed up from the massive crowd before them. Dutifully, she rose to begin applauding alongside the other members of Zenith's royalty. Under their king's encouraging waves, the people started to disperse around the capital-turned-festival grounds. Now that the nobility was no longer obligated to look important and inspiring, they all loosened their stances (with the anticipated exception of Clarine, who refused to be anything but perfectly poised).
"Man, that went on forever…" She heard Scáthach mutter beneath her, too low for the others to pick up.
"That was, as always, a lovely speech, darling." Clarine praised her husband and offered him her hand. Alfonse took it, no doubt used to his queen's ridiculous devotion to formalities.
"I still remember the days when you would admit to insecurities about becoming a worthy king." Hríd commented. "Imagine if your younger self could see you now." At his side, Thea nodded to show her agreement.
"Please, please, you're all too kind." He waved them off with a bashful grin. "Why are we still up here, trying to make me blush? The festival isn't just for the citizens you know!"
"You had best sample the game stalls as soon as possible." Jeorge advised them. "Once Sharena drags Lethia and I through them, I'm afraid there won't be any prizes left to win."
"That sounds like a challenge to me!" Ewan said with a pumped fist. "What do you say, Ylgr? Are we going to let Askr walk all over the pride of Nifl?"
"No way!" She concurred, her fist raised as high as Ewan's. "I'll win ten prizes for Gunnthrá and Fjorm each!"
Meanwhile, Hríd's daughter had already slid up next to Amalric, a cheeky grin on her face. "My Aunt Ylgr's really fired up, huh?" Sylvi asked and grabbed his hand. As she did so, Ayra could hear Larcei behind her hissing from a sharp intake of breath. "And your Aunt Sharena looks just as into it. They want to compete, but how about we show everyone what Askr and Nifl can do when we work together?" Ayra had been in enough battles to have developed a sixth sense for when something was about to go wrong. And in the instant following Sylvi's question, her instincts were screaming at her that all hell was about to break loose.
She barely had time to put up her guard before Larcei shattered the placid atmosphere of their group. "Why don't you let him decide what he wants to do?!" She screamed and sent her chair skidding backwards with a kick of her leg. "How about you stop controlling his life and let him pick who he wants to be with for once?! Better yet, why don't you just stay in Nifl where you belong and leave us alone?!"
Without another word, she turned tail and fled from the stage towards the castle gardens. As she took off, Ayra could see tears streaking down her half-angry, half-sad face. "Larcei!" She heard Kiran and Scáthach call out simultaneously. Ayra made no such outcry – she knew where her daughter's affections lied and could recognize anger born of jealousy when she saw it.
"My God, I-I'm so sorry." Kiran stammered to their stunned peers. Everyone, young and old, was gaping at the aftermath of Larcei's outburst. Even Sylvi, the object of her acrimony, looked too caught off guard to be properly offended. "I have no idea what set that off. She's normally so well behaved…" He shook his head and tried to contain his embarrassment. "But that just means there's no excuse for acting like that. Don't worry, I'll go set her straight and make sure she gives you a proper apology."
"No, I'll go." Ayra corrected. "There's no need for you all to hold yourselves up here instead of having fun. I'm not much for the festival anyway – I don't mind losing time reprimanding Larcei." She turned to Thea and Hríd. "Once she's straightened out, I'll find you and get you your apology." She knew Kiran would do his best and that Larcei would certainly listen to him, but Ayra doubted that he really understood their daughter's plight the way that she did.
"Are you sure I shouldn't come with?" Kiran asked. "Larcei can be pretty stubborn when she sets her mind to it."
"So can I." She smirked and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Go enjoy yourself, Kiran. There'll still be plenty of time for us to be together once I'm finished with Larcei."
He nodded along with her assurances and reciprocated her peck directly on the lips. Some of the others looked as though they wanted to make some kind of comment, but her and Kiran's condemnation of Larcei's behavior had turned the resolution of her affair into a familial matter that wasn't their place to comment on. If anyone did decide to gossip, she never heard it – once she had Kiran's blessing to go alone, she wasted no time following Larcei's trail and leaving them all to their whims.
Were the castle fully staffed and filled with its usual work, Ayra could've just asked a servant to guide her in Larcei's direction. But with nothing more than a skeleton crew to handle essential functions elsewhere, the gardens were empty of any potential assistance. But that, in and of itself, proved to be the vital aid she needed to locate her daughter: since the hedges and rosebushes ought to be surrounded by nothing but silence, it made the muted sniffling she heard stand out all the more.
She rounded a well-groomed bush to find Larcei crying on the ground, her knees huddled up against her face. Her tears were juxtaposed by a regular punching of the ground, showing her anguish to be tempered by frustration. Ayra chose to cut to the chase and announce her presence by asking, "So, what do you think it accomplishes to run away and cry by yourself?"
Larcei bolted to her feet in surprise, though it didn't take long for her shock to give way to insolence. "I don't know, a-and it doesn't matter! Just leave me alone!"
"I've raised you better than to lie and talk back to me." She reprimanded, her eyes narrowing in just the right way to make the nine-year-old wither.
Still, she tried to maintain her rebellion a bit longer. "I'm not lying, okay? Everything's f-fine, so please just go away, mom…"
"Enough with these games, Larcei." Ayra scolded with an authoritative fold of her arms. "There's something wrong, and it won't solve anything for you to lie about it. You can either tell me what's bothering you right now, or I can bring your father over and have you tell us both."
Her daughter's defiance died down in the face of her chastising, leaving only discomfort and nerves in its place. She ducked her head and darted her eyes from side to side while her small hands wrung together. "I…" she began before clamping her mouth shut, apparently too scared to admit what Ayra knew was eating away at her.
In response, Ayra quietly sighed and kneeled down to her level. She laid her hands on Larcei's shoulders and, with a soft voice, said, "I'm your mother, and that means I only want what's best for you, Larcei. How am I supposed to do that if you won't let me help you when there's something wrong?" She leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "Tell mommy what's wrong, sweetheart." She knew that Larcei would regress to the more childish word for 'mother' when she was upset and hoped using it herself would bridge the small gap of trust that was stilling her tongue.
Her attempt bore fruit, as Larcei became more grounded and was willing to look Ayra in the eye. Her lips still trembled, but she began to speak all the same. "I-I…it's just that…" She anxiously swallowed and finally revealed, "I hate Princess Sylvi!" She began hiccupping and crying again, which Ayra took as her cue to move her arms to wrap around Larcei's waist and bring her into a hug. "I hate her so much, mom! S-She's always hanging around Prince Amalric, making him spend all his time with her! I w-want him to laugh and smile with me like he does with her, but it feels like she's a-always there whenever I have a chance to see him!"
Ayra rubbed circles in Larcei's back while she ranted. So, it is just that she hates a romantic rival… She concluded and pulled her little girl tighter. Well, it isn't like I don't sympathize. But still, a nasty grudge doesn't feel like it matches how afraid she was to talk about this. What child doesn't want to ramble to their parents about someone they don't like?
Her confusion was cleared up when Larcei went still against her chest and hissed under her breath, "W-Whenever I see her, I…I think about doing things to her. Like what I do with Scáthach, except…he doesn't fight back, and it isn't just training." Her admission was accompanied by a squeeze of the hands around Ayra's back. "I imagine taking one of your swords…a real one…and…and…"
Ah, Ayra thought, her lips curling into a delighted smile, now I see. If ever she needed proof that Larcei was her daughter, she now had it. More than anything else, she was disappointed that Larcei was ashamed to admit all of this. Did she think Ayra would hate her for it or think there was something wrong with her? Because that couldn't possibly be further from the truth.
"You want to kill her, don't you?" She prompted in a hushed voice, her smile widening when Larcei shakily nodded her head.
Ayra wasn't upset with her daughter – she was prouder than words could describe.
Her pride was somewhat dampened by Larcei's next tearful words. "I'm a monster…" She whimpered, her earlier venom seemingly gone. "It's evil to want to kill people – I know that, but still…! It's the first thing I think of every time I see her, which means I must be evil–!"
"No, you aren't." Ayra cut her off and ran her hand through Larcei's ebony locks. "You are not evil, Larcei, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"B-but I–"
"Love Prince Amalric?" She finished for her, pulling her head back to lock their silver irises together. "There's nothing evil about that. Wanting to kill whatever harlot is getting in the way of that love isn't evil either; on the contrary, that just proves you love him more than anyone else. And proving how much you love someone is the most wonderful feeling in the world."
"I-I…what?" Larcei sputtered, stupefied by Ayra's unexpected reaction. "Mother…what are you saying? You sound like…like…"
"I'm speaking from experience?" She ended Larcei's sentence again, her words punctuated by a soft caress of her girl's cheek. "Your father was just as much of a living legend during the war as he is now. Everyone admired and looked up to him…and some women admired him more than they should've. Even though they knew we were together, they still selfishly wanted him for themselves." Her smile gained a predatory edge. "So, mommy did to them what you want to do to Princess Sylvi."
Right away, Larcei began looking at her in a new light. Ayra could tell it wasn't a negative perception – just a different one. "So…it isn't evil to kill people for love?" She asked, trying to reconcile her nascent sense of morality with her natural trust in her mother's word.
"Not at all." Ayra confirmed. "In fact, it's one of the noblest, sweetest things you can do for the person you love. Unfortunately," her smile dimmed and took on a sad fringe, "most people don't see it that way. They don't understand how beautiful it is to be willing to do anything for your loved one." Her smile fell entirely to a frown. "…Your father doesn't understand that." Even her frown decayed into a terse scowl. "Shannan didn't understand that."
"Shannan?" She repeated, her eyes widening. "You mean my cousin? But…you told me he was hit by a berserk staff…" For once, a twinge of fear appeared in her pupils. "A-are you saying that you…?"
Ayra knew she had to stamp out that apprehension before it got a foothold in Larcei's mind. As such, she strengthened her grip ever so slightly to ensure her focus didn't waver. "Larcei, listen to me. A dancer from Magvel named Tethys – I'm sure you recognize the name – was planning to try and seduce your father. I had to get rid of her before she could make the attempt."
"S-seduce?" Larcei dumbly repeated. "Um, I don't know what that means."
Ayra bit back a sigh – it was hard to describe the full breadth of her motivations to a nine-year-old. "It means that, even though he wouldn't want to, she would've tried to force your dad to kiss and…be intimate with her."
"Oh." She uttered. "You're only supposed to kiss people you love, so that sounds kind of evil since he didn't love her."
"It's a very evil thing to do, so I was trying to stop her before she could try to hurt him. The problem was that the other Heroes, your father included, were too trusting and didn't want to believe she could be that evil. Which meant I had to get rid of her in secret and make it look like an accident." She briefly considered explaining how exhilarating it had been to spill Tethys' guts on the ground but refrained – she didn't want to scare Larcei and there would be plenty of time to give details when she was more comfortable with killing.
"I was on a patrol with her and Shannan in Múspell and was going to blame her death on a scout that caught us off-guard. Shannan said he would scout ahead, and I thought I had my chance…but I overestimated how long he'd be gone. He caught me in the middle of killing Tethys, and I tried to explain how I was only protecting your father. Do you know what he said when I was done?" Larcei shook her head, her earlier trepidation tempered by a burning curiosity. "He said I was insane. Crazy." Ayra softly smiled again and patted the top of her head. "Do you think mommy was crazy for wanting to protect daddy? Was I crazy for trying to stop an evil woman from hurting him?"
Larcei made her proud with how quickly she refuted Shannan. "No way! You can fight better than dad, so it was up to you to keep him safe! You and he always tell us how important family is, and if Shannan wanted to fight you over an evil woman like Tethys, then…then he was evil too and he got what he deserved!"
Ayra's smile grew once more, and she enveloped Larcei in another hug. "Your father is right: you're such a bright girl. I knew you'd understand, even if he wouldn't."
"But…even though Tethys was evil, Princess Sylvi isn't." Larcei mumbled into her chest. "Dad had you and didn't want Tethys, but Prince Amalric always looks so happy when he's with Sylvi…" She began to shake again from what Ayra thought was a mixture of grief and anger. "It isn't fair! You were always doing the right thing when you killed people, but I wouldn't be!"
"Oh, hush." She chided more out of amusement than any real reproach. "Weren't you listening? It's noble to want to kill for your love. I think Amalric would be happiest with the girl that loves him most – and who could possibly love him more than you?" She tilted Larcei's head back so they could see each other's expressions again. "Believe me, Larcei: killing Sylvi would be for Amalric's own good, even if he doesn't realize it. After all, it was in your father's best interest that I kill all those Heroes, even though he would've thought otherwise."
"…You really mean that?" She asked, her voice twinged with a ghost of hopefulness that told Ayra her efforts had been successful. "It's really okay for me to kill Princess Sylvi?"
"It is." Ayra assured her, taking both of her smaller hands into her own as she dropped her voice to an eager whisper. "You can see it, can't you, Larcei? The sword cutting through her skin, her blood dripping from the blade, her mouth wide from all her screams…" Her description produced an increasingly excited grin from Larcei, whose breath began to pick up to match how fast her heart was doubtless beating. "You'll make her pay for getting close to your Amalric. When she dies, she'll know it was because she tried to take what was yours. Doesn't that sound fun?"
"Yeah, it does…" She agreed, her words delivered in just as much of a keen hush as her mother's. Her grin grew a tad bashful, and she met Ayra's eyes. "Mom, would…would you help me do it? I don't really know how to do something like this, and you've done it so many times…"
Ayra was too touched to immediately respond – she intended to volunteer her help, but the thought that Larcei wanted her to be a part of such a special moment in her life was nearly enough to bring a tear to her eye. "Of course, dear." She answered once the initial surge of emotion had passed. "I wouldn't miss it for anything. I only wish your father and brother could be there with us. Speaking of…" She glanced back the way she came, which got a giggle out of Larcei.
"Yeah, we should probably be getting back, shouldn't we? Don't worry, I know not to tell dad or Scáthach anything." Finally, Ayra rose back to her feet, her left hand still clasped around Larcei's right. They began walking back, prompting Larcei to ask one final question while they were still alone. "Hey, mom, when do you think we can do it?"
"I'm not sure yet. We have to be very careful about this – if we rush things, we'll get caught one way or another. It's not like there's still a war on the explain the corpse." The realization that there would be no instant gratification made Larcei's face fall, so Ayra tried to lift her spirits back up with a suggestion. "While I'm planning the best way to go about it, how about I tell you stories from time to time about how I killed the harlots who wanted to take your father away from me?" Now that she knew Larcei was fully committed to her cause, Ayra wasn't worried about frightening her off with particularly gruesome anecdotes. If anything, she looked excited at the prospect of hearing her mother reminisce about her glory days.
"That'd be great! I can't wait to hear all about it!" She leaned in to wrap her free arm around Ayra's waist. "I love you, mom. Thank you so much for doing all this."
Ayra hummed and ran her palm across the back of Larcei's head one last time. "I love you too, Larcei. It's like I said: I only want what's best for you." She pulled her daughter closer, her hands already itching to hold her blade and go to work again.
"And I'm happy to do whatever I have to in order to make that happen."
Don't let Ayra being a loving wife and mother fool you – this is NOT a good ending. The last thing any world needs is a fucking serial killer training her daughter to follow in her footsteps, especially when said serial killer hides in plain sight as a beloved hero and said daughter wants to kill the children of royal families. I don't intend to ever explicitly write what they get up to, because it would be nothing but the two of them sadistically torturing a child to death, and I'm not so fucked up that I'd describe something like that in detail (now, a child dying in general, that might be a different story).
Okay, so I was originally going to upload Girl #5's (the Stalking Type) chapter next, but I've hit some writer's block regarding all the set up in the first half. If it persists (and it looks like it will), I'll just push her further down the list to keep content coming. Next thing will in all likelihood be Girl #6 (whose chapter is already half-written and whose quote is "A lie told once remains a lie, but a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth.").
By the way, regarding how these bonus chapters work: when I say I'll do four more L'Amour Detruit chapters, that means four more main chapters, as in ones that introduce a new girl. Bonus chapters aren't explicitly planned out (though some main chapters lend themselves to bonus chapters more than others), they don't factor into how many chapters this fic gets when I shift focus back to it, and there's no structure to who gets them or when – it's all just a matter of what I think would be interesting (read: fucked up) and feel like writing. Some girls could even get multiple bonus chapters if I think there's enough potential and some girls could get none at all.
Also, regarding main chapters: I've decided to commit to writing three more main chapters, bringing the total count up to 16 (the idea being that there will be four groups of four, ignoring bonus chapters). The three new girls are another from Fódlan, another from Ylisse, and another from Tellius.
(And yes, I was too lazy to describe what the OC kids look like. Use your imagination based on the pairings that spawned them)
Please leave comments, good or bad, since your feedback is how I learn. Thank you for reading.