Birth and Re-Death
Chapter 47: You Are Going to Live
"Before the prosecution calls its first witness, I feel compelled to make a statement of my own," Maribelle says, standing up from her place on the bench. "As you are going to hear from the witnesses, many of the crimes with which Gangrel has been charged involved me personally. I was myself a victim of the actions of Plegian soldiers. I have traveled with and fought alongside the Shepherds. As a result, my overseeing of this trial no doubt will appear far from impartial. The matter before this court is not whether these things happened, because the record is undisputed on that count. The important consideration is the extent to which Gangrel can be held responsible for the actions of the Plegian army. On that point, I pledge before all those watching this trial that I will make every effort to be impartial. If I determine that Gangrel is not responsible for the actions of his soldiers, then he will be found not guilty. If I find he was, then he will be found guilty. I think it is important that the record reflect that I acknowledge my personal involvement in these matters, as well as my commitment not to let that involvement affect my judgment." She sits down again.
Gangrel scoffs out loud.
"Is something amusing?" Maribelle asks, glaring down at him.
He shrugs. "Only that you insist on pretending this is anything other than what everyone here knows this is. The outcome of the trial, my guilt, has already been decided. This is all to put on enough of a show that you feel justified in lopping my head off. Nothing more."
"This is nothing of the sort. Unless you wish to change your plea to guilty, making this trial unnecessary, I will have the prosecutor proceed with his opening statement."
Gangrel cackles bitterly. "Change my plea? I never pled not guilty."
"In the event that a defendant refuses to enter a plea, a plea of 'not guilty' is entered on their behalf. We did attempt to receive a plea from you, and you were informed what not answering would mean," Maribelle says, a hint of venom in her tone.
"Well, that's not really what happened, is it? I did enter a plea. A plea of 'not applicable.' You just ignored it," Gangrel replies with a sneer.
"Indeed we did. The question of guilt is binary: guilty or not. Those are the only pleas accepted in this court. And the presumption for all defendants is that they plead not guilty. Now if you've had your say, we will proceed. Or is there some other distraction you would like to wave in front of everyone?"
He waves a hand dismissively, leaning back in his chair and kicking his prison-issued boots up on the table in front of him. "By all means, Your Radiance."
She glares a fraction of a second longer before turning to Francis. "Mr. Cargill, please proceed."
Francis stands. "Of course, Your Honor. Before you, as you know, is Gangrel, the king of Plegia. In his position as king, he naturally holds ultimate authority over the actions of the Plegian army. When the army of a nation acts on behalf of the nation, as in an act of war, their actions are naturally the responsibility of those who command them. While individuals are of course accountable for their actions, if soldiers are given orders to carry out certain acts by a higher power, that higher power is responsible for the consequences of those acts.
"It is with this theory in mind that the halidom charges Gangrel with several counts of attacking non-combatant civilians, numerous counts of murder, as well as several counts of kidnapping and attempted kidnapping, and most importantly, the crime of instigating a war between peaceful nations. The evidence from eyewitness testimony of several events in the last year is going to show that Gangrel ordered attacks on the Osprey family villa in Themis province and the Anchorage family estate in East Sedgar province, which were carried out by the Plegian army. The evidence will further show that the attack on the Osprey villa was particularly egregious because the countries of Ylisse and Plegia were on peaceful terms at the time, and no excuse of wartime strategy justifies the attack that claimed dozens of lives. Because the evidence will show that Gangrel ordered this attack on the Osprey villa, it is also appropriate to hold him accountable for not just its direct consequences, which are already monstrous, but also the entire war that followed in the wake of the attack, which killed untold numbers of Ylisseans and Plegians alike. It all traces back to the orders of the man sitting right there," he concludes, pointing at the lounging Gangrel in his chair. "Thank you, Your Honor."
Maribelle nods as Francis returns to his seat. She looks at Gangrel. "I don't suppose you have an opening statement?"
Gangrel lifts his legs from the table, pitching the chair forward. Its front legs hit the floor with a startling clack. He stands and walks out in front of Maribelle's bench. He stands there silently for at least ten long, awkward seconds.
"Your hair looks better this way. Those drills were ridiculous," he says with a pointy grin. He returns to his chair. Before he sits down, he says, "I look forward to making sure my last few days on earth are dedicated to making your job just a little harder, Mari." With that, he takes his seat.
"You are aware that I can order you back to your cell for the duration of the trial, yes?" Maribelle says, her shoulders cocked like she just barely isn't springing to her feet. "Would you prefer we hold your trial without you?"
"And miss all the fun? Not a chance," Gangrel replies.
"Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut until you are prompted to open it. I don't even want you to tell me you understand. You may not respect it, but this is a courtroom. Out there, you may have been king, but in this room, I and I alone am in charge. Now sit there and keep your mouth shut until I instruct you otherwise."
Gangrel pantomimes locking his mouth shut with a key. I really don't envy Maribelle right now.
"Very well," Maribelle says, straightening her robes and turning to look at Francis. "Mr. Cargill, you may call your first witness."
Francis stands and bows his head briefly. "Yes, Your Honor. The halidom calls Randall Belmont to testify."
I stand and go up to the stand. Unlike in an American court, where the witness stand is next to the bench and faces out toward the jury and gallery, in the Ylissean court the stand is off to the left side and faces perpendicular to the rest of the room. That way the judge, parties, and gallery can all at least kind of see the witness.
I gotta admit, even though it isn't my ass on the line here, and all I have to do is repeat what happened to me, it's pretty nerve-wracking being up here in front of everyone. I guess I'd better get used to it, though. This will be my life for the next few weeks.
"Please raise your hand," Francis says. I do so. "Do you swear, in the sight of the divine dragon Naga, and on pain of penalty of perjury, to tell the truth in all matters while you are testifying?"
"I do."
"Very good." I lower my hand while Francis goes on. "Now, Mr. Belmont, why don't we begin with the events of last summer? During your time at the Osprey family villa, I mean."
"Yeah, sure. So I had recently joined up with the Shepherds as a healer, but I was still a novice, so I went with Maribelle to train with her at her family's home for a while. This was while the rest of the Shepherds were on their way to Regna Ferox to try to form an alliance with the khans."
"Why did the Shepherds choose this time to go to Ferox?"
"This was around the same time that the Risen first started to appear in Ylisse. On top of the threat of bandits coming in from the west, the new threat that the Risen might fall out of the sky at any time had the Shepherds overwhelmed. They wanted to see if the Feroxi would help the Ylisseans combat these threats."
"And when you say bandits from the west, what do you mean?"
"Plegian bandits. They crossed the border to raid Ylissean villages."
"How do you know they were Plegian?"
"Well, the others said the bandits spoke with Plegian accents. I'd never been to Plegia at that time, but I could tell they spoke differently than the others I'd met."
"So you met these bandits yourself?"
"Yeah. I first met the now-acting-Exalt Chrom in Southtown, when the town was invaded by bandits. I helped out with healing him and his companions during the battle against the bandits, and afterward I was allowed to join up myself."
"And then you ended up in Themis?"
"Yes. So while I was there, I trained with Maribelle for about six weeks. Everything was normal then, no incidents that I'm aware of."
"But that changed?"
"It did. One morning, without warning, one of the villa's security guards informed me that the villa was under attack by Plegian invaders. Sure enough, moments later, warriors who looked a lot like the ones I had seen at Southtown showed up and started hacking people apart. I went inside to try and get my staff, but before I could help, the villa had been totally taken over. I managed to find Maribelle, who said she wanted to try and parley with the invaders' leader rather than run. We went and spoke with Aversa, the leader of the invaders. She refused to negotiate with us, so I tried to fight back. I got knocked out, and both of us were taken prisoner."
"Did they at any time announce why they were there?"
"No. We had no idea what was going on."
"Have you any idea how many were killed?"
"I never got a chance to learn the exact number. But I will say this: it was not just combatants who were killed." My throat catches briefly. "The villa's head maid, Isadora, and her daughter, Melinda, were both among the dead. They weren't fighters. The Plegians were killing anyone that got in their way or even crossed their path."
"You saw this happen?"
"I saw Aversa holding Melinda's severed head like a trophy. I saw her cut down Isadora herself. I saw a lot of bodies that weren't villa security." I glance at Gangrel. He's picking his teeth. I clench my jaw.
"And what happened after that?" Francis snaps me out of my lost train of thought.
"Maribelle and I were taken to an unknown location. We were kept in pretty grim condition, given the bare minimum of food and water, kept in a small, dark cell. I think we were there like two weeks. Eventually we were taken back out, and we were brought by wagon to the Border Pass. We were kept there until the Shepherds arrived, having heard that we were kidnapped. Gangrel was there too. He wanted to trade Maribelle and me for the Fire Emblem."
"To clarify, Gangrel was aware you were taken prisoner?"
"Definitely."
"Did you ever hear or see anything that indicated he had ordered this to be done?"
"Not directly, no. But I figured from the fact that he wanted to arrange a trade for us that he had done so. Plus, you know, it was Aversa, his right-hand woman, that led the operation."
"Aversa is his right-hand woman?"
"She's been with him nearly every time I've seen him. As least up through the time we went to save Exalt Emmeryn, anyway. So at least twice, plus I saw her the night the Plegians attempted to assassinate the Exalt."
"I see. Why don't we move on to what happened at the Anchorage estate?"
"Sure. So naturally, after Maribelle and I got kidnapped and that confrontation went down, we were at war with Plegia. That war continued for months, resulting in Exalt Emmeryn getting kidnapped and us having to go and save her. After that, we went back to Ferox to regroup before heading back to Ylisse to try and oust the Plegian occupation of the country. On the way, we decided to stop at the Anchorage estate to resupply and collect ourselves because Sumia, one of the Shepherds, is a member of the Anchorage family. We thought it was likely the Plegians wouldn't have bothered with taking over such a relatively remote land holding, so it would be a good place to stay safe for a day or two before making the push south.
"Unfortunately, one of the Shepherds, a foreigner from Valm, had a message he was sending back home intercepted by Plegian soldiers. That message included information about our plan to stop at the Anchorage estate. As a result, Gangrel knew where we would be. When we arrived, in the middle of the night the Plegian army ambushed us. The battle immediately turned to chaos, with the Feroxi soldiers trying to defend the estate and the village nearby while the Shepherds fortified their position inside the estate. A few other Shepherds and I were caught outdoors, unable to get back inside, so we had no choice but to fight the Plegians outside.
"During the fight, I saw a pegasus knight go down after she was struck by a lightning blast. That ended up being Cordelia, one of the Shepherds. She had been shot down by Gangrel's Levin sword."
"So Gangrel was at the battle personally?"
"Yes. I fought him myself. He had gone over to finish Cordelia off, but luckily I got there in time. I wasn't any match for him alone, but Cordelia and I held him off long enough that Sumia could get Cordelia out of harm's way. After that, my fight with Gangrel continued. Just when I was sure he was going to kill me, I was hit suddenly from behind, and I started to lose consciousness. Another soldier had hit me on the head and incapacitated me."
"And then what happened?"
"When I woke up, I was on a wyvern's back, fastened to its rider. The rider was Vasto, a man we had fought at Breakneck Pass some months before, and a man I believed was dead. But not only was he alive, he also was working against Gangrel all along. Rather than bring me to Golgotha, as Gangrel had instructed, he took me to his group of anti-royal freedom fighters."
"To be clear, Gangrel instructed this Vasto to take you prisoner? He did not know Vasto was part of this rebel group?"
"Yeah, that's what Vasto told me. Anyway, my time with the rebels was… interesting. Most of our time was spent expelling Plegian soldiers occupying the various towns and cities of Ylisse."
"What were the conditions of occupation, as you observed them? How were the soldiers treating the Ylisseans?"
"Harshly, as you would probably expect. I never witnessed much of their abuses firsthand, but often when we would regroup with the townsfolk after the soldiers had been defeated or driven out, we would see signs of the previous violence. Bruised, scarred faces, sacked homes, that kind of thing. Sometimes we would hear stories about the people the Plegian soldiers had killed for noncompliance."
"And this was the common practice of the Plegian army? Not an isolated incident?"
"Not isolated at all, no. In my time in the Patriots, we drove the Plegians out of basically the entire southern half of the country, give or take. The story was always pretty much the same."
"Did you ever see any commanding officers ordering this sort of abuse?"
"Not firsthand. But whenever we would meet officers, they were usually the worst of the lot. Either uncommonly violent, or cowardly, or otherwise conniving. It seemed like you couldn't be a Plegian officer without being a real bastard."
"I see. And when was the next time you saw Gangrel?"
"The next time I saw the guy was at the Border Pass, during the last battle of the war."
Suddenly, Gangrel interrupts. "The last battle so far," he says with a cruel chuckle.
Francis looks back at Gangrel for a moment. The king shoots him a smug wink. Francis turns back to me. "In any event, I have nothing further." With that, Francis takes his seat.
Maribelle continues writing something for a few moments, then looks up at Gangrel. "Gangrel, do you have any questions for Mr. Belmont before I have him step down?"
"Plenty, but none that I'd be allowed to ask here I'm sure," he replies casually.
Maribelle frowns at him. "So be it. Mr. Belmont, you may step down and return to your seat," she says. I get up and return to my seat. I'm surprised to find I'm just a little shaky as I sit down. It's not even my ass on the line, but it was still stressful to be in such a high-stakes situation. I know my testimony is going to be used to put Gangrel to death. It's a weird feeling. It's right that he should die, but I've never put someone to death just with my words before.
A cool, slender hand comes to rest on my shaking hands. I look at Robin next to me. She smiles encouragingly.
"You did fine," she whispers.
Sumia to my left places her hand on my shoulder. "That was great, Randall," she says.
"Thanks," I reply with a grateful look in both directions. Rehashing what's been happening the last few months has reminded me how I felt then. I remember the continually mounting stress and anxiety, especially when I was first taken. I was scared I was going to really, actually die. And I didn't really have anyone I could turn to. Over time I met some good people, but I couldn't trust them fully. They weren't friends the way the Shepherds are.
Remembering how I felt when I sat alone on Christmas Eve, with nothing but a bottle of whiskey for company, this could hardly be more different. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I'm safe with my friends by my side again. Despite everything, I need to remember that. I turn my hand around and close Robin's hand in mine for a moment. That calms me down.
The next witness called to the stand is Sumia's dad, and then her mom. Both of them recount what happened at the ambush in Anchorage. They confirm that the Anchorage Estate never served as any sort of military base, and their first and only involvement in the war was housing us for one night. They deny that weapons are manufactured on any significant scale in Anchorage, nor is it even a major trade hub. They describe the entire holding as a largely self-sufficient place, rarely tied into the developments on the outside.
Then they describe what trying to rebuild the estate has been like in the aftermath of the attack. With so much of the forest torched, the town has suffered a lumber shortage, which has been a huge problem with so much construction needed to repair the damage the town suffered. Much of the town's population has needed to take refuge in the rooms of Sumia's family's home that could be spared, particularly as the cold winter settled in. Food, too, has been scarce, since a lot of the fields were damaged and the hunters have needed to venture farther into the distant unburnt wood to find meat. While the Plegians never came back, all it took was one night of violence to shake the estate to its core. With the combined killings on the night of the ambush and the deaths tied to the hardship that followed, the holding lost over fifty people since the Plegians came.
It's hard for me to hear about all this needless tragedy brought down on innocents, but Gangrel looks like he can't be bothered to even pretend to care. In fact, he barely looks like he's listening at all. Mostly he just leans back and watches with a mix of boredom and contempt.
A part of me is almost glad he doesn't look like he gives a shit. For one thing, it makes me feel justified in thinking he deserves whatever Maribelle is going to do to him. For another, it assures me that he isn't going to even try to combat the charges against him. His only defense was 'you can't judge me,' and after that fell through, he looks resigned to his fate.
After they have testified, a series of people I've never met take the stand. Villagers from different places across the country that languished under Plegian occupation. They describe the harsh treatment I alluded to in my testimony. Stories about townspeople being beaten, imprisoned, even killed on orders from the Plegian officers. No one from Themis is brought to testify, which is probably just as well, considering they would have to be careful not to implicate themselves as harboring Patriots, which would complicate matters. As it is, Frank has done a good job assembling a smattering of people to describe the chaos and misery the Plegians caused under Gangrel's directive.
One other thing that people get wrong about trials all the time, though? It's actually quite boring. It's long. A lot of questions just establish a baseline for who that person is and why they have testimony that's relevant to the case. And as much as I feel like a dick for even thinking it, after enough townspeople give their stories, they start to kind of blur together. I realize the point is to show how widespread and consistently vile the Plegian threat was, but the price is these people's individuality. All of them lost much, from homes to crops to loved ones, but after a while, you stop seeing the distinctions. It's hard not to eventually see numbers.
It's hours later when the last witness for the prosecution steps down. Everyone looks drained. Hearing such a lengthy litany of tragedy has sapped everyone of their energy. Francis especially looks about ready to collapse as he says, "The prosecution rests," and finally takes his seat. I gotta give it to him. For being a total amateur in the ways of the law, as per Ylissean criminal law, he put together a hell of a case. Assembling and assessing that many witnesses from that many towns in just a couple short weeks is genuinely impressive.
Kinda makes me wonder how good my prosecutor is going to be.
About a minute of near silence passes as Maribelle takes time to allow the testimony to sink in. The only sound is Gangrel drumming his long, grimy nails on the table in front of him.
Finally, Maribelle looks at the king. "Does the defense have any witnesses to call?" she asks bitterly.
Gangrel rises from his chair, his joints audibly cracking as he does so. The guards standing near the bench place their hands on their sheathed swords. Gangrel stretches, cracking some more. "Just the one, Your Contrariness." With that, he walks over to the witness stand and takes a seat behind it.
"What are you doing?" Maribelle asks.
He gestures to the stand in front of him expectantly. "I'm giving my testimony."
Maribelle sighs. "Fine."
He looks out over the crowd. "You've heard a great deal about what my soldiers have done on my behalf in the last year. We have committed numerous violent acts, it is true. But to you gawkers, and you Shepherds, and you," he turns to point at Maribelle, "I ask you this. If a man enters your home, breaks into your room, shatters your legs, and skewers your wife and children in front of you, are you not entitled to righteous anger? Are you not justified in seeking revenge?
"What are the rules of this revenge? Suppose you cannot take revenge right away. Your legs are broken. You would have to wait to recover before revenge can be yours. Has the time that elapsed between the attack and your revenge nullified your right? And how far may your revenge go? This man has killed your wife and children. Merely taking his life would be one life in exchange for many. Would it not be more reciprocal to enter his home and kill his family in turn? That he might know the misery he has caused you? Who could tell you that you were not justified in exacting a punishment that mirrors the crime? No man could. No man.
"But the killer has friends. Friends who know fully well that this man entered another man's home, murdered his family, broke his legs, and left. When you, the victim of this crime, come seeking revenge, you are not strong enough to defeat not only your enemy, but the many who joined to defend him. You are arrested. You are told that your act of justice is itself the true crime, and you will be killed for it.
"That man's name is Plegia. And the one who entered his home and destroyed all he cared for was named Ylisse. And now you seek to punish not the man who committed the crime, but the one who sought revenge for that wrong. I know full well that you intend to kill me, and I care not. My blood on your hands indelibly marks you as the hypocrites you know you are. I am content with that knowledge. At least in death I will have peace from you beasts." With that, he stands up roughly, knocking the chair behind him onto its back with a startling CLACK. He returns to the defense table and sits down. A few seconds of stunned silence pass, then he waves a hand dismissively. "Ah, yes, I forgot. The defense rests."
Maribelle glares at him for a long, tense moment. She briefly looks to Francis. "I don't suppose you had any questions for the witness before we move on?"
Francis shakes his head. "I suspect we would get nothing of value, Your Honor."
Maribelle nods grimly. "I am inclined to agree. If witness examination is finished, then we move to closing arguments. Gangrel, have you anything further?"
Gangrel makes a gesture I haven't seen before; he brushes the back of his hand along his chin and flicks his fingers in Maribelle's direction. From the look of disgust she gives him, and the couple murmurs of shock I hear around me, I gather he pretty much just gave her a jerkoff motion.
"And you, Mr. Cargill?" Maribelle asks through gritted teeth.
He rises and steps out before the bench. "Your Honor, I will keep this brief. You have spent a long time hearing story after story about the horrors wrought by the Plegian Army on Gangrel's orders. You have observed his own lack of concern for the damage his army caused. You heard his testimony, in which he all but admitted that every travesty his army committed was on his conscious orders, in an effort to 'punish' our nation. Regardless of what he believes justified his actions, the law is clear. He is guilty of the charges before him. Thank you." He takes his seat again.
Maribelle takes a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking again. "I have deliberated as much as is necessary to come to a conclusion about this matter. All rise for the delivery of the verdict." Everyone except Gangrel stands. She glares at him. "Get up." He shrugs. She glances at one of the guards near the bench. "Get him up."
One of the guards goes over and roughly wrenches Gangrel out of his chair, kicking the chair to the side. Gangrel slumps in the guard's grip.
"Gangrel, former king of Plegia," Maribelle says, her voice full of bitterness and barely-contained fury. "You have committed innumerable contemptible and vile atrocities, and those under your command have committed more in your name. When called on to answer for these crimes, instead of defending yourself, you did nothing but deny our right to judge you, and then you boasted about your crimes and insisted we deserved them. On the charges of unjustly instigating a war between peaceful nations, sanctioning uncountable murders, kidnappings, and an incalculable amount of property damage, you are guilty."
"Finally," Gangrel interrupts, chuckling. "I thought it would never end. What'll it be, then? To the chopping block? The gallows? How am I shuffling off this mortal coil?"
Maribelle fumes silently while Gangrel speaks. When he's finished, she replies in a tight voice, "Your sentencing will be held tomorrow morning. For now, get him out of my sight."
"Really dragging this out, aren't you, Mari?" Gangrel asks smugly. The guards quickly reshackle him and start leading him out of the courthouse. As he is led down the center aisle, he briefly looks at me. His expression is disgustingly satisfied, even as the crowd outside starts jeering at him. He disappears into the angry crowd, out of sight.
I take a deep breath. A few seats down, Sumia's mom has started to cry. Sumia and her father and Tricia rush to comfort her, but to me they seem like tears of relief. I can relate. Even if the sentence won't be carried out just yet, having his guilt affirmed before everyone feels like the end is in sight.
"Come on," Robin says, standing and offering her hand to me. I take it and get up with her. "Let's get out of here."
My breath is shaky as I close the door of the judge's chamber behind me and start removing my judicial robes. That man is so… maddening. Tomorrow I could order his head lopped off, and he'd just go laughing all the way to the block as if it were his idea. How do you deliver justice to someone who's so damned unphased by everything? I realize that's not the point, that unrepentant criminals go to the block all the time, but it just feels…
My chain of thought is interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Come in."
It's Chrom, as I expected. He enters and closes the door behind him. "Are you alright?" he asks.
"Not yet," I reply. "That whole ordeal was… taxing."
He wraps an arm around my shoulders reassuringly. "You did excellently."
"Thank you," I mutter. "If you were in my shoes, what would you do?"
He exhales audibly. "I wouldn't know where to start. Why do you think I passed this buck to you? I don't trust myself to be in charge of his punishment."
"I understand. After everything that's happened. After Emmeryn… I can see why you want to keep your distance from this."
"I want to be of more help, but all I can say is this: no matter what you decide, I stand by you all the way. It doesn't feel right to give my thoughts on what that man deserves, but you have my full support."
"He just seems so, I don't know… impervious to punishment. There's nothing we can do to him that he won't take in stride and wear as a badge of honor." I sigh sharply, discontented.
"I know what you mean. Perhaps I should have just struck him down at the Border Pass after all, like Randall told me to. No matter what we do, I worry it will just feel… empty."
Hollow silence fills the little chamber.
"Perhaps it would be wiser to just not think about it too much and just… get it over with," I say at last.
"Maybe." He holds me a little closer. "Thank you for this, Maribelle. I know it's been difficult."
"Well, I did ask for this burden, after all. This was always my plan." I sigh. Chrom's warmth and kindness are appreciated, but I need time to think. "I think I need to be on my own for a while," I say.
Chrom lets go and takes a step back, smiling gently. "Whatever you need, Maribelle. I'll be around if you need me." He heads for the door.
A thought occurs to me.
"Actually, Chrom." He pauses and looks back. "Can you find out where Tharja is? I need to talk to her."
"Uhh, sure. You got it." He leaves and closes the door, leaving me with only the dim light of the candles for company.
I let my hair out of the tight, constrictive bun. Without my characteristic curls, my hair hangs quite low. It's easy to forget just how long it's grown over the years. I imagine it could even give Cordelia a run for her money. I consider tying it up into a ponytail, but decide against it. This is a rare feeling of freedom. I'd like to savor it, just for today. And my neck feels better like this, protected by the curtain of hair.
A few minutes later, someone clears their throat behind me suddenly, scaring the daylights out of me. If Tharja had been standing just a few inches closer, she would have caught my panicked backhand right in her face as I whirl around.
"Tharja! What are you doing?" I ask, trying to mask how startled I was. I ball up my fists at my sides.
"You said you wanted to see me. I don't get the problem," she replies monotonously.
"Have you heard of knocking?" I ask incredulously.
"Knocking is for when you aren't expected somewhere. You knew you wanted me here. So I came right in."
I decide this isn't a debate worth continuing. "Fine. Thank you for coming. I have some questions for you."
"What kind of questions?" she asks, a sinister smile growing on her face. "Must be pretty serious. You've never wanted to speak directly to me before."
Well, you can't exactly blame me there, can you? I elect not to say that out loud. "Quite serious. I need to know something about dark magic."
"I had a feeling that's what you needed. I can definitely help you there. Robin hates Gangrel with a passion, so if you need help punishing him, I'm more than happy to assist." Her eyes flash with sadistic joy.
"Your enthusiasm is… appreciated, Tharja. Allow me to explain what I'm thinking…"
I consider going and joining the others for dinner, but I think I want to take some time alone. When I was young, there were times I envied Emm for her position as the Exalt. I was forever going to be a prince, not an Exalt, as far as I was concerned. If I had known how much work it is just to fill in for her, I wouldn't have spent a second envying the throne. It turns out I'm much better at battles and field leadership than armchair negotiations. Granted, this is an uncommonly busy time for the council, but I am truly drained. So, dinner tonight is a solo event in my chamber.
Just as I get ready to tuck into the shepherd's pie Kellam has prepared for the Shepherds tonight, someone knocks at my door. I sigh, annoyed, and get up to open the door.
"Khan Flavia? What is it?" I ask. Her jaw is clenched with pent-up frustration about something. Surely she can't be this angry about Randall still?
"I want to speak with you about a matter of grave importance," she says, entering my room. Aside from maids, and my sisters, I note that a woman has never been in here that I can recall. It feels wrong.
I push that feeling down for the moment. "What's happened? Has there been an attack somewhere?" I ask.
"I believe so. But it's such a targeted occurrence that I have reason to believe Randall is responsible for it, or if not him personally, then some other members of the Patriots."
"Hold on, slow down. What do you mean?"
"There's been a disappearance. A captain under my command by the name of Regulus, the one who had formerly been in charge of Southtown before the Patriots took it over, has vanished without a trace." Her tone is angry, accusatory. I don't have to guess what she's implying here.
"Khan, I can personally vouch for Randall's good behavior since we have returned to the city. He has spent nearly all hours of the day and night moving between the barracks and the palace library, preparing for his trial. I have that on good authority from Robin."
"Who of course would have no reason to cover for him. It's not as though they're best friends or anything," she grumbles. "Nonetheless," she interrupts before I can get a word of protest out, "even if Randall is not personally responsible for what has happened, it stands to reason that the Patriots could be behind the disappearance of the prosecution's most important witness."
"I agree; it's very possible the Patriots are behind it. What would you like to have done about it? We can set up search parties to try and locate him, if you like," I say, trying to keep the tone of the conversation as level as possible.
"My soldiers are already on that. But in the meantime, I think it's important that Randall's movements be further limited. I want him kept in a cell until his trial. Surely a week in confinement won't kill the man."
"I'm already confining him inside the city walls. What more good could confining him further do?" I ask.
"If he's been sending or receiving messages from the Patriots, there's no accounting for it. If we kept him in a cell under constant watch, we would know for sure that he's not in contact with any elements that want to disrupt the prosecution."
"Do you have any evidence that he's been sending messages anywhere? Or is this just you wanting to point the finger at someone because something terrible has happened?" I ask, no longer able to hide the irritation in my tone. I'm letting my shepherd's pie get cold for this?
"It doesn't seem at least a little suspicious?" she retorts.
"No, it doesn't. I trust Randall. I don't think he's conspiring with the Patriots to sabotage us. I don't think he's guilty of anything. I understand that your soldiers were killed, and you want someone to answer for that. I think you've pointed the finger at the wrong person. So no, I will not be ordering that he be placed in a cell," I say firmly.
She gives me a hard-faced glare. "It's already a stretch of my tolerance that I'm letting your people handle this matter."
"Don't try to act like you're the only one who cares about finding the people responsible for all those deaths in Southtown. Or the ones responsible for sabotaging the negotiations. I realize that the Feroxi suffered more losses than the Ylisseans. And I recognize that the war cost a great many more Feroxi their lives. There has always been an inequality in this dynamic, where it has been Ferox saving Ylisse much more than vice versa. Our country owes you and your people so much. But it does not owe you the blood of an innocent man. And unless the prosecution proves otherwise, that's exactly what Randall is."
"Oh good, you haven't forgotten how much we sacrificed," Flavia says bitterly. "If you won't confine him until the trial, then at the very least, I want one of my men following him and keeping watch until the trial concludes. Surely that wouldn't offend his sensibilities too much?"
I'm walking a thin line here. Flavia's anger is understandable. Admirable, even, to care so deeply for her fallen troops. And the last thing we need is to lose Ferox's fellowship just after making Flavia the khan regent. I guess I have to be prepared to make some concessions.
"Agreed. But your man will announce himself to Randall outright and state his intentions. There won't be any secret dealings between us and him," I say at last.
"Fine. Good night, Chrom," Flavia says, making a quick exit from my room.
I sigh, exhausted. This wasn't what the end of the war was supposed to feel like.
The next morning comes surprisingly quickly. It seemed like nobody wanted to do much after the trial concluded. All anyone could think about is the impending sentencing hearing. On one hand, there's no doubt in my mind she'll just order him to be hanged and that'll be the end of it. On the other, despite the relief we all felt yesterday, things don't feel concluded yet. No one wants to move on to the next thing until this is resolved. Or maybe I'm just projecting. That's definitely how I feel, anyway.
I'm not dressed to testify today, instead just wearing a normal shirt and pants with my leather jacket. I kinda don't want to wear the Osprey coat around too much until the heat is off me a bit.
If anything, the courthouse is more crowded today than yesterday. I guess the people who couldn't be bothered to see the trial itself at least want to see the sentence carried out. Kind of morbid, but I can't blame them, considering the person in question. Thankfully, we still get good seats. This time, we're seated in the front row on Gangrel's side.
After everyone is settled, Gangrel is brought in, looking like he probably didn't bathe between his trial and now. The sharp, biting smell of unwashed flesh emanates from him as he passes us. He still smiles irritatingly, as if proud of how disgusting he is. I regret sitting here now. The way Robin fidgets uncomfortably next to me indicates that she feels the same way.
The door to Maribelle's chamber opens, and the bailiff calls out, "All rise!" We all stand.
Maribelle takes her seat. "Be seated," she says, looking and sounding like she's all business today. She looks down at Gangrel with a mix of contempt and disgust. "The court is called to order. The case of the Halidom of Ylisse versus Gangrel, King of Plegia, Magistrate Judge Maribelle Osprey presiding. Parties make their appearances, please."
Francis stands. "May it please the court, Francis Cargill appears on behalf of the Halidom of Ylisse."
Gangrel doesn't bother getting up. "Get on with it, woman," he says contemptuously.
She looks like she's considering saying something, but then decides against it. She clears her throat. "We are here for the sentencing of Gangrel regarding his numerous crimes related to the instigation of the war between Plegia and Ylisse. Does either party have anything they wish to say before the sentence is delivered?"
Francis rises. "Nothing, Your Honor." He sits again.
"Just put a blade in my throat and be done with it," Gangrel moans.
"Not quite, Gangrel. I do have a question for you, though. How has your cell been? How's the food?" Maribelle asks, an edge of bitter satisfaction in her voice.
"They've been grand, Your Duchessliness," he replies. "What I would naturally expect from Ylissean hospitality."
"I'm so relieved to hear that, Gangrel. Because you're going to be getting very, very familiar with both over the coming decades." She can't hide the smile from her face as she says, "Your sentence is life imprisonment, without any possibility of release, and with no visitation rights. You can enjoy the next several decades ruminating on your crimes, reflecting on the error of your ways. Your company will be limited to whatever guard has the misfortune of bringing you your meals that day, and whatever insects or rodents you happen to meet there. That is the sentence of this court, so ordered. We are adjourned." With that, most of the crowd starts filing out, disappointed murmurs permeating the room.
I can't see Gangrel's face from here. He stiffens briefly, then, to my surprise, begins cackling, his voice raspy and grating. "Oh, you are a bitter one, Maribelle. I respect it. You're making me handle it myself. Truly admirable."
Maribelle suddenly rises from her bench, walks around it, and crosses over to Gangrel's table. She half-whispers, and most of the room is ignoring the interaction, but I can still hear her.
"I thought you might say that. Your suicidal charge against us at the Border Pass was evidence enough that you no longer wish to live at all. I thought that if I elected to imprison you for life, you might just bite your tongue in your cell, or bash your head into the stones, or simply refuse to eat or drink until you expire. But you won't be able to do that."
Even from behind, I can tell from Gangrel's posture that he's been a little cowed. "What do you mean, witch?" he spits.
"Go ahead. Try and bite your tongue off right here. I won't stop you. No one in this building will heal the wound. You can die right here if you wish." Maribelle's expression is… worrying.
Several seconds pass. I assume Gangrel must have been trying to do exactly what she suggested, because Maribelle says, "Can't do it, can you? Would you like to know why? Here. Another example." She pulls a small roll of bread from a pocket and holds it in front of him. "Try not to eat this."
In spite of her instructions, he immediately reaches out with shackled hands, takes the roll, and devours it in seconds. When the bread is swallowed, he snarls, "What did you do to me?"
"Me? Why, nothing, of course. But I do have a good friend who grew up in Plegia. She's quite well-versed in Plegian magical practices, you know."
"You… you hexed me!" he hisses.
"Would you like to know what the hex does?" Maribelle asks. She doesn't wait for an answer. She leans in, and says with extra venom, "It prevents you from taking any deliberate action with the intent to harm or kill yourself. That means you can't cut your wrists, you can't bite your tongue, you can't stop yourself from eating the food and drinking the water placed in front of you. You won't even be able to consume your own waste in hopes of getting a disease that might kill you. You are going to live, Gangrel. For many, many years. In a cold, dark, damp, stone hole in the ground. And then someday, despite all your unwillingly-exerted efforts, you are going to be so old, so decrepit, that you simply cease to be. And that will be your execution."
She stands up straight again. "Get him out of my sight. Take him to his new home," she says to the guards that brought him in. She starts walking back toward her chamber door.
Gangrel shouts after her as he's dragged down the aisle, "You bitch! You harlot! When I find out who cast that hex, I'll have her killed! And then when I've escaped that filthy hole, I'll come for you! I'll come for your family! I'll come for the rest of your little villa! Everyone you love! Everyone you care about! DEAD, you hear me!? Ooh, I hope you have children by then! I'll make you WATCH! I'll tear them LIMB from LIMB before your very eyes!" By now, Maribelle is already back in her chamber. She slams the door shut behind her. Gangrel continues yelling obscenities at the ceiling until he's dragged into the jeering crowd outside.
I realize I'm out of breath. I've been forgetting to breathe. Robin and I share a look of mutual concern. The other Shepherds that were in the front row with us—Sumia, Cordelia, Gaius, and Stahl—look as baffled as we do.
"What the hell was that?" Robin asks.
"Well, she definitely wiped the smile off his face," I reply with a nervous laugh, glancing at the now-closed doors to the courthouse.
"Do you think she's okay? Should we check on her?" Robin asks.
I consider for a moment. "No. Not yet. If she wanted us to be with her, she'd have stayed out here and had him hauled off. Let's give her some time."
"Alright." Robin looks as shaken by what we've just seen as I feel.
"Besides, technically I'm not supposed to see her at all until my own trial is done. And it's probably advisable that my legal counsel doesn't either. We can let Lissa and Chrom handle this one for now."
"True enough." Robin takes a deep breath in and out. "I kinda want to get out of here."
Gaius chimes in, "Abso-damn-lutely. Let's go."
We all gather our things and head for the door. We've just been given a lot to think about.
On our way out of the courthouse, I'm surprised when a person I've never met before steps in front of us and holds up a hand to stop us. She looks like she's about in her mid-30s, and based on her tanned skin and red-lined white Hero-class armor, I'm guessing she's a Feroxi working with Flavia. She's quite attractive, in that 'could definitely kick your ass' kind of way. Her dark hair covers most of the left side of her face. She has a large dark steel greatsword strapped across her back.
"Hello. My name is Litica. I have been assigned by Khan Flavia to accompany you until your trial is completed," she says.
Well, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that this isn't for my benefit. "Why now?" I ask. "If anything, I'd think she'd have done this right away if she was going to do it at all."
"I didn't ask questions. I just follow orders," Litica replies simply.
"I assume I'm still being allowed to just… do what I'd do normally?" I ask. "You're not going to, like, forbid me from having dinner with everyone or sleeping in my own bed, right?"
"I am merely instructed to watch you and ensure that you do not make any further moves to disrupt the prosecution or collaborate with the Patriots to sabotage the trial."
Robin interrupts, "What do you mean by 'further moves,' Litica?"
"I mean on top of the disappearance of Captain Regulus," Litica replies with a scowl.
"Hold up, disappearance? When did this happen?" I ask.
"At some point in the last few days. He just disappeared without a trace. Awfully fortunate for you, isn't it?" she says.
"Like hell it is! I wanted to get that guy on the stand," I reply. "I don't want to just win because a witness is a no-show and still leave suspicion in Flavia's mind. I want the truth laid out. It would be better for everyone that way."
"If you say so. Anyway, feel free to ignore me. If you're innocent as you claim, just think of it as having a sweet, attractive bodyguard keeping an eye on you," she says with a frown. I realize now that she's quite tall. As tall as me, give or take.
"In that case, thanks in advance for watching my back," I say. I turn to Robin. "Back to the library?"
"What did you say?" Gaius interjects. "To the library? We just saw the final defeat of Ylisse's greatest enemy, and you want to celebrate by going back to some books?"
"Well you don't have to make books sound that bad, Gaius," Sumia mumbles.
"The books you usually read, sure. I like those," Gaius clarifies. Sumia smiles. "It's those big, dusty texts Bear and Bubbles are always sifting through that make my hair start to grey just glancing at em."
"Well gee, Gaius, I wonder why Randall and I find them so important," Robin retorts. "Can you think of why we might think they're a pretty engaging read at the moment?"
"It's all you two have been doing for over a week now. Except one of you, for one afternoon. You have to have read every legal book in the library twice by now."
"As a matter of fact, we're only partway through our second readthrough," I say.
"See? You've seen all there is to see. Now you need to take alllll that knowledge you've soaked up, and marinate it in booze to make sure it sticks," Gaius says with a resolute nod. "Gangrel is finished. The war is over. We need to take time to celebrate that."
"The war isn't over until Randall's safety is guaranteed," Robin says. "I can't relax until Randall's trial is finished."
"Maybe we should," I say cautiously. "He does have a point. We've been over every legal resource in the royal library. Maybe taking an evening to just let it settle in our brains isn't a bad idea."
Robin sighs. "I just don't know how I'm going to loosen up. My mind is going to be on the trial no matter what we do. I don't see why we shouldn't just steer into that rut and ride it out."
"Because life is going to keep happening, Bubbles," Gaius says. "If you don't take a minute every once in a while to get your bearings, you'll get lost at sea."
"And getting drunk with you all will help that?" Robin asks skeptically.
"Of course! Seeing Bear make a drunken ass of himself will remind you why you care for him so much that you're going to all this trouble for him," he replies with a roguish grin.
Robin scowls. "As if I need reminding."
"Come on. What was the last actually fun thing the two of you did together?" Gaius asks.
The fact that I have to actually think about it is depressing. "I guess it depends on what you mean by 'fun' exactly," I say at last. I'd rather not admit it was before last winter.
"See? Both of you, with me, no arguments," Gaius says firmly, slipping between us and draping an arm over both of our shoulders. "And that goes for the rest of you as well," he says to Sumia, Cordelia, and Stahl. "Bring your lady too," he adds to Stahl. "I can't remember the last time Bear taught me a new song, and that just won't do."
Robin groans, but I can hear the smile hiding in her tone.
It's always surprised me how thin the line between laughing and crying can be. One can laugh until tears stream down her face. One can weep until her sobs resemble laughter. I sit stiffly in my chamber, thinking about that, too afraid to allow myself to do either for fear that it might spur on the other. I don't know how long I've been here.
The door opens. No. I can't see anyone right now. I don't want to be seen by a single person after what I did today.
A hand on my shoulder. There's no mistaking this hand; it's Chrom's. All it took was that single touch, and the dam bursts.
I stand, turn around, and start sobbing into Chrom's chest. His arms curl around my thin frame easily.
"You're okay, Maribelle. You're alright," he says quietly as I let everything loose on him. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I went to oversee Gangrel being placed in his new cell."
For a few minutes I continue my shameful display, before eventually pulling myself together enough to speak. "I'm sorry, Chrom. I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for," he says gently. He slowly releases me and we stand a step apart. "I think you made the right call. You managed to be merciful while finding a way to truly punish him. You saw to his core and found the right way to administer justice. No one could ask for more."
"That's not what I mean!" I almost shout. "I mean the… the malice in it. In that moment where I saw his face drop. When he realized I'd had him hexed. When it really sank in for him that he was going to live for many decades in that dungeon. That horrible, terrified, defeated expression. I enjoyed it. I loved it. I was so pleased when I realized I had read him correctly, and found a way to truly make him suffer. It felt so… sadistic."
Chrom nods quietly as I speak. He chooses his words carefully and slowly. "I think, for one thing, that the choice you made was a good one. Life in prison without possibility of release or visitation is, if anything, a technically lenient sentence for the crimes he committed. As for the joy you felt administering that punishment, I don't think anyone could blame you. Of all the people Gangrel harmed in the last year, I think perhaps you were the one hurt the most. If there was a feeling of vengeful satisfaction in the moment you delivered your sentence, I think you earned it."
His words do calm me down a bit. "It's not just that I feel I didn't deserve to be so vindictive. I just… I don't know, I suppose I… frightened myself. I didn't know I could delight so much in someone's suffering. Not even his. I've been angry before, of course, but to be able to take out that anger so mercilessly on someone, and then to actually do it, was just…"
To my surprise, and slight offense, Chrom actually chuckles a bit. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to laugh. It's just, I never expected us to have this, of all things, in common."
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"I mean, you've definitely noticed. My anger is difficult, if not impossible, to hide. But scarier than the anger itself is how much I enjoy letting it loose. There were so many times in the last war when, if it hadn't been for you, Lissa, and the others, I might have lost myself to the thrill of the fight. I'm more violent than I'm proud to admit. And I think more than anyone else, you've saved me from that part of myself. But in a way, finding out that there's even a side of you that can feel this way, I don't know. It makes it feel more normal, I suppose." He smiles. "But if you can pull me away from that brink, maybe I can be the one who does the same for you."
"The hot-tempered Exalt and his sadistic magistrate. In another life, we would be the villains. Perhaps to those loyal to Gangrel, we already are," I reply. I finally allow myself to smile too. "I don't want to enjoy anyone's suffering. Not even Gangrel's. But I think you're right. It's valuable to know that there's a part of me that would do just that." I give one final undignified sniffle. "I'm done with this self-pity. I'm a magistrate, after all. And in the future, I will endeavor to deliver judgments detached from my personal feelings on the matter."
"I'm sure you'll do great, Maribelle. You already have." Chrom holds his arms open. It doesn't take long to decide to enter his embrace. I feel safe here.
I sigh, exhausted. "And here in short order, I will have to do it all again with Randy," I say to his chest.
"You're not planning on hexing and imprisoning him too, are you?" Chrom asks. His chest vibrates in my ear when he speaks. It's a little strange, but I won't deny it's a pleasant feeling.
"I suspect I won't have cause to hex him, no. But as for what may happen, I can't say. Of course I want to say there's no way on earth I'll find him guilty, but that's not what I've committed to do. If the prosecutor puts forward a convincing case, and Randy can't answer for it, I've promised Randy that I won't allow the fact that he's my friend to color my judgment. There is a lot of strangeness about what he's been doing the last few months. We owe it not just to the khans, but ourselves as well, to get to the bottom of it, and to do it right."
"I'm sure you've heard Robin is planning to represent him," Chrom says. "Whoever is set to prosecute him is going to have their work cut out for them."
That gets a giggle out of me. I slowly let go of Chrom, already wishing I could just stay there. "You're not wrong. She's certainly dedicated. I hear she spends all hours of the day and most hours of the night preparing for the trial."
"He's a lucky man," Chrom says with a chuckle.
"Luckier than he knows. If he knew how many nights the poor girl lost sleep worrying over him, he'd propose on the spot if he had any brains at all," I reply.
Chrom laughs a little stiffly. "Right," he says.
"Is something wrong?" I ask.
"What? No, not at all!" he replies, too enthusiastically. "You just had me thinking about a meeting the council held the other day."
I've heard enough stories secondhand about the council to know they're not Chrom's favorite group of people. In the past, he could usually get away with leaving them to Exalt Emmeryn to handle, but obviously in recent weeks he's had to deal with them himself as acting-Exalt. "What was the meeting about?"
"Well, a million things, like every council meeting. But at one point, Lord Lundgren made a comment that had me thinking. You probably wouldn't be surprised to learn that the council had been pressuring Emm for years to find a man to marry. They're always working themselves up about continuing the Exalted line, securing the bloodline for the next generation, all that stuff. But Lord Lundgren mentioned at one point something to the effect of 'We certainly can't expect Exalt Emmeryn to be prepared to marry or bear children anytime soon. It will fall to her siblings.'"
"So they're turning their gaze to you and Lissa, then. Of course, as long as they prop up the established order, their own families' places in the hierarchy are preserved, so it doesn't surprise me that they would waste no time in pushing you in that direction."
"I mean, it's not like I've never thought about it. It's just never seemed like the right time. I've never felt ready."
"Forgive me if this is too forward a question, but… have you ever courted anyone?" I ask.
He laughs embarrassedly. "It's sad, isn't it? I may have to lead this country as Exalt, and I've never so much as had a romantic interaction with anyone in my life."
"Never? There were no young women around the palace? I find that hard to believe."
"Oh, there were girls. Plenty of em. I've known Cordelia and Sully since I was a kid. Well, I guess you knew that I knew Cordelia." He laughs nervously. For a moment I don't know what he's talking about, then the memory comes back to me.
"Ah, yes. She was your chaperone when you and I first met," I say with a laugh, my cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "I was quite… brash with you. I had no idea you were a prince then. I wouldn't have dreamed of raising a hand to you had I known."
"No, I'm glad you did!" Chrom exclaims. "Well, maybe not so much that you slapped me. But, you know, that you would slap me. That you didn't feel the need to hold back or treat me any different from anyone else. That's always been one of my favorite things about you, actually," he says with a sheepish hand to the back of his neck.
I raise a brow. "That I would slap you?"
"I've always hated being treated like a prince," he says. "Whether it was maids pampering me or lords telling me to stand up straighter or that I was using the wrong fork or whatever 'undignified' thing I was doing. I wanted to get away from both the privileges and the expectations of my station. That was part of why I founded the Shepherds. A chance to get away from it all, to be out in the world helping people with real problems. But you were never like that. You were kind, of course, but not because of who I was. It was because that's who you are."
I feel color rising in my cheeks. "Milord, you flatter me."
"I wish I had the words to say it better," he says, not missing a beat. He takes a step closer. "You asked why I never wanted to pursue any of the other girls around Ylisstol when I was growing up. It's because I had already met someone. Someone who had captured my heart before I even knew what it meant to be in love."
My heart skips a beat. "Chrom, are you–?"
"Please," he interrupts. "Let me say my piece now before I lose the nerve." I swallow nervously and nod. He takes a deep, slow breath before going on. "Maribelle, I have been in love with you since the day we met over a decade ago. There was never anyone else I could see myself with. You are everything I want and everything I wish I could be. You've shown me how to be the best version of myself. You've been an irreplaceable friend to my sister, an impeccable leader to your people, and a staunch ally on the battlefield. And while looks have never been the most important thing to me, you are the most beautiful person I have ever met. Not just because of your attractiveness, but because of the way you carry yourself. Your poise, your smile, even the hard look in your eye when you're about to set someone straight. I love you. I have loved you for most of my life. And I want to love you for the rest of it, if you'll let me."
"Chrom, I…" My legs suddenly feel quite weak. I take a stumbling step forward, and he catches me easily, holding me steady. "I never knew you felt this way. I thought surely, the prince of the halidom would have his sights set higher than some provincial lesser noble. Or if not, then he would choose someone like Sully, someone who has been close at his side all along. I…" Words are escaping me. I take such pride in my articulate language skill, but now, when I need it most, I can't form a sentence.
"Do you… feel the same way?" Chrom asks quietly, his voice betraying a hint of a tremor.
Come on. Just one word. Spit it out you fool! He laid out everything for you, took this tremendous risk, you will not leave him hanging!
"Yes," I say at last, and like a key unlocking a door, I feel my throat open up. "Yes, yes of course! How could I not love you? You've been showing me your entire life what a wonderful man you are! Not just in your kind words and actions toward me, but in your leadership, in your relationship with dear Lissa, in everything you do. I have seen you struggle against adversaries that would crush lesser men, and I don't mean just powerful enemies. You have proven time and again that you are worthy of every bit of praise our people give you. I could not be more proud of the man you have become in the years since we first met. It would be a dream to stand by your side and lead the land I call home alongside the man I love."
"...You mean it?" he asks, eyes widened with disbelief.
"Of course," I say breathlessly.
"Oh, thank the gods," he says, and suddenly pulls me in close. He leans down, and I turn my face up to meet his. Our lips touch, lightly at first, then with more confidence. His lips are dry, and a little rough, but I don't care. I can tell Chrom has never kissed anyone before, but he pours all his passion into every moment. It's a rather unrefined first kiss, and I would have it no other way. This moment, with his arms around me, is perfect.
Eventually, though, the moment passes, and we slowly pull apart. We stand for a few seconds in nervous, excited silence.
"Oh!" Chrom says suddenly, reaching into a small pouch on his belt. "I want to give you this." Out of the pouch he pulls a gold ring with a sapphire embossing of his family crest.
My heart flutters. "Chrom, I… isn't that a royal signet ring?"
"It is. It was made when I was young, and given to me by my parents. They told me that when I find the woman I want to be with for the rest of my life, I should give it to her. It's one of the most precious memories I have of them, and I want you to be part of that memory." He holds out his hand.
I'm stunned. "Chrom… I want to make sure I understand your meaning with this."
"Maribelle," he replies, "I have never been good with manners or decorum. I may be a royal, but I am not a gentleman, and I probably never will be. I wouldn't know how to court a refined woman like you if I had a century to try and work it out. But I've known for years that I want to be with you forever. Will you be my wife?"
I have to remind myself to breathe. "This is… I don't think 'sudden' is a strong enough word," I stammer.
"I know. I understand if you feel I'm–"
"No, don't misunderstand! I just need a moment." I take a few seconds to breathe. To really process what he's telling me.
I have been proposed to. Just like that. He's been in love with me since we were children. I meant what I said before; he has grown into a fine man, despite what he says of himself. I would never have even thought to love him, for fear of appearing to be nothing more than a ladder-climber seeking greater standing, but if I had, it would have been so natural, so easy. Am I ready to live that life? The wife of the prince and acting-Exalt? The wife of Lissa's brother? I would be not only Chrom's wife, but Lissa's sister as well. It seems almost too perfect. And in this moment, I realize that is the only reason I'm hesitating. That I'm not sure it's real.
But it is real. We kissed just moments ago. He is holding his ring out to me. I don't have to bury that dream any longer, because it's not a dream. It's real. And all I need to do is reach out and take it.
I gently place my left hand in his so he can slide the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
"How is it so perfectly formed for my finger?" I ask.
"I had Lissa get me your ring measurement," he admits with a sheepish laugh.
"Hold on. Lissa KNEW?" I ask, aghast. "That girl can't keep a secret to save her life! How has she kept something this important under wraps?"
"Lissa has known since, gods, since we were teenagers at least," he replies. "I think she's been putting all her secret-keeping efforts into this one secret all these years."
"I'm truly astounded. And if I am honest, quite proud." We share a laugh. The implication of this dawns on me. "I even have Lissa's blessing. She wants us to be together. She wants me for a sister." I feel myself getting choked up. I swallow the lump in my throat. Dear Lissa!
"Look," Chrom says seriously, "I know this is sudden. I've just never known how to… do any of this stuff. This was the only way that made sense to me. But I don't want you to just agree to this because I've dropped it all on you at once and gotten you carried away."
"Chrom, please." I redden, embarrassed. I want to tell him I know what I'm getting into, but in truth, I don't. Aside from my brief, misguided relationship with Randy, I have never been with anyone romantically. Both of us are utterly inexperienced with romance. But in a way, that's a comfort. "We can learn together," I say. "I admit, I'm a little caught off-guard. But that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. You are one of my oldest friends, and one of the people I know best in the world. I know what sort of man I am agreeing to spend my life with. I want this."
He pulls me close again, and already by the second kiss, his technique is improving. He always was a fast learner when it was something he wanted to get better at.
My head is pleasantly buzzy, like a group of bees are massaging the back of my skull. Still, I'm not having nearly as much fun as Randall and Gaius, I think as I watch the two of them standing atop the table, stomping, clapping, and chanting:
"I saw fire, fire and brimstone
Coming down on my head!
I saw fire, fire and brimstone
Coming down on my head!"
Say what you want about the fools, but when they're having fun, they're magnetic. Patrons around the tavern stomp in time with them. At some point, a bard with a lute had joined in, strumming along with the beat. I look between their legs across the table. Sumia is gazing up at Gaius with a glassy-eyed, dreamy expression. Whenever he winks at her (which he makes sure to do frequently), she giggles like a little girl. It's so saccharine that it irritates me. Would that I could look up at Randall for more than a few seconds at a time without getting scared that he'll think I'm staring.
I do feel a little more justified in watching him when he starts singing,
"I had a dream last night
While I was laying in my bed.
And the whole world was standing still,
And the moon was turning red.
I saw a sign in the sky.
I have come to set you free.
There a light, shining bright,
Shining down, down on me!"
And then they're back into it.
"I saw fire, fire and brimstone
Coming down on my head!
I saw fire, fire and brimstone
Coming down on my head!
I saw fire, fire and brimstone
Coming down, down on me!"
Gaius bends down to hoist a giggling Sumia up onto the tabletop by her underarms so she'll dance with him. The table is sturdy, but hardly fit to accommodate three, so Randall hops over my head; I hear him land unstably behind me. Gaius keeps the song going while Randall takes a break.
Randall rests his bearded chin on top of my head from behind. Not terribly comfortable to have someone's chin on your head, but the contact alone makes my stomach twirl. I'm glad he can't see my face, though I could probably excuse the blush by saying it's the whiskey's fault.
"Sup?" he asks lazily.
"Just enjoying the view," I reply, gesturing at the couple atop the table. I notice Gaius is all but holding Sumia aloft as they 'dance,' which considering her coordination even when sober is probably wise.
"They are pretty cute up there," he says. "What happened to Stahl and Panne?"
I gesture with a thumb over to a corner, where the pair have been furiously kissing for around ten or fifteen minutes. Not too far from them, Litica sits, staring at us, holding a cup of water.
"Wow," Randall says. "They're really going at it. Like–"
"Oh please don't say it."
"Alright," he sighs, then lifts his head and sits back down next to me. He picks up his drink seconds before Sumia's foot lands where the glass was sitting, and he takes a sip. "Like rabbits," he says.
I give his shoulder a halfhearted shove. "You're terrible. And they're called taguel." I like how that word sounds. "Taaaguel."
"Call her whatever you want. She's still a big cuddly bunny. Look at her tail go," he says, and I turn to look. Sure enough, her little tail wags rapidly as she presses against him. She definitely looks like a bunny, I can't lie. "Damn near brings a tear to my eye. My boy's getting some," Randall says proudly.
"They should really be doing that somewhere private," I hear Cordelia mutter from her seat. She holds a cup of red wine in a concerningly slack grip. "It's undignified."
"Come on, Cordy. It's not like you wouldn't be doing the same thing if you had you-know-who here and he wanted some sugar," Randall replies.
Her already reddened face threatens to catch fire. "N-no! That's not true!"
Randall chuckles. "If you say so. You know, I've always wondered. What kind of advice does that Make Him Fall for You in a Fortnight book give you?"
Cordelia splutters, nearly spitting out her wine. "What makes you think I'd know?"
"The fact that you own that book and I've seen you read it?" Randall replies.
She glares at him for a moment, then sighs. "Its advice is nothing useful. 'Be confident,' 'be yourself,' that sort of tripe. But it doesn't say what to do if 'myself' isn't confident. How can I be myself and be confident at the same time?"
"So it's self-help crap. Got it," Randall says in a dismissing tone.
"It's not all bad!" Cordelia protests.
"If the book you read led you to this, of what use was the book?" Randall asks. Cordelia frowns thoughtfully at the question. "Anyway, we gotta find you a new guy. All this Chrom pining is no good for you! You think Chrom is all perfect and shit, but if he's so perfect, how come he's never even noticed how much attention you've been heaping on him all this time?"
"Just because Chrom doesn't notice me, it doesn't mean he's not basically perfect–"
"It probably means he's not perfect for you though! Do you have any idea how many guys would happily return all the affection you have to give? You're obviously a catch, Cordy, but you gotta find a guy who's, you know, fishing. Or at least willing to reel in when the fish hooks herself."
Does he mean himself? It's always been obvious to me he finds her attractive. And the other day he admitted he regularly married her to his surrogate self (who is also in a sense me, but I cut off that train of thought immediately before I get a headache).
Cordelia sips quietly for a few seconds, her eyes deep in thought. Suddenly, she slaps her empty cup on the table. "You know what? You're right."
"Finally, we're getting through to you!" Randall exclaims.
"I need to quit being so passive. If Chrom is ever going to see me the way I see him, I need to be clear to him about how I feel." She springs to her feet.
Oh boy. This could get out of hand quickly. Randall and I rise from our seats too. "Cordelia, I don't know if that's such a good idea, tonight, specifically," I say cautiously.
"Why not?" she asks indignantly, starting to head for the door.
"Because you're toasted like a panini," Randall calls after her. "This isn't how you want to do this, trust me."
We follow her outside. I hear Litica join us outside as well, unsurprisingly. "I've never had the courage until right now! I'm going to give him a piece of my mind! And then the rest of me, too!" Cordelia slurs at us as she stumbles down the street.
"Cordy, having a drunk girl come hunting for a booty call is not the same thing as the romantic confession you're aiming for," Randall says. Neither of us wants to restrain her, so for now we're just letting her trudge up the hill toward the palace. Thankfully she's got a long way to go.
"Can't this wait even until just tomorrow morning?" I implore.
"No! If I wait any longer I'm going to explode!" She starts running away from us.
Randall and I exchange a glance. We silently agree that we have no choice but to give chase. I sigh, and we start our own unsteady run up the hill.
"Cordelia, you dumbass! Get back here!" Randall shouts up the hill, turning the heads of the passers-by on the road. "Litica, stop her! She's going to do something stupid!"
"That's not in my job description," Litica replies, jogging casually with us.
"You can't stop true loooove!" Cordelia shouts behind her, but in her effort to look at us as she yells, she trips and falls on her face. Still, before we can catch up, she's on her feet and booking it again. Despite her lean, athletic form, I have to admit: her running form is pretty awful. Still, laden down with whiskey and goat meat as we are, Randall and I don't have a chance. We keep up the pursuit until she reaches the palace.
A pair of people walking toward the palace doors catch my eye. Oh no. As I put all my energy into focusing my blurred vision, I realize there's only one man that's just so blue. And the blonde woman with him must be Maribelle.
Cordelia notices him too. She runs over to him, stopping no more than ten feet in front of him. Chrom and Maribelle stop walking, looking at the panting, heaving woman before them.
"Cordelia, no!" Randall shouts, his last play to try to stop this impending tragedy before it's too late.
"Chrom!" Cordelia shouts, gasping for breath. By her stance, she looks ready to tackle him.
"Yes?" Chrom asks. It's only now that I notice he's holding Maribelle's hand.
"I'm in love with you," Cordelia says.
A few seconds pass, with only the sound of Cordelia, Randall, and me panting to catch our breath.
Cordelia leans to her left and vomits on the ground.
"Oh, for God's sake," Randall mutters next to me.
A/N: Happy summer, everybody! It's a relief to be slowly crawling out of the Covid-induced catatonic state the last year and change has left me in. I hope you guys are also doing better, and I hope the chapter was worth the wait! The loose ends keeping us in the Plegian War Arc are slowly getting tied up, and soon enough we'll be transitioning officially into the dreaded timeskip, oooo~ I do have plans for how to pass those uncharted two years, so I'm looking forward to having such a free stretch to work with for a while.
As always, my beta readers are to thank for keeping me on track through the chapter. Mixed Valence and DestructionDragon360 have my gratitude for that! Both have stories of their own in the works, so you know what to do. Your Mixed Valence out-of-context quote of the week is: "Alright Randy, drop those pants."
Join the Discord: discord. gg/ 3mdunvc
As always, comments and critiques are welcome. See you next time!