Reviews:
Greyjedi449t: So glad to hear it. I hope that you enjoy it.
Celexs Draconia: Casca will have a lot to deal with because of the thorns and I hope that the story continues to excite.
Pyromania101: So glad that you thought so and that it was your favorite one so far. I was really looking forward to writing that chapter and there's another one that I've been looking forward to writing for quite some time now.
EVA-Saiyajin: While I am more or less all caught up to the manga, I do have an ending in mind already based off of everything that was introduced and revealed in the series. Isma might appear later on at some point though.
Necrogod: No problem. I hope you enjoy this one.
MorphCross: Some thorns did remain so there will be repercussions because of it. Dumbledore will be featured next chapter and he'll reflect on how Umbridge was able to get back.
Greer123: Happy to see you enjoyed it. Guts and Casca get their reunion in this chapter.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: There is room for more improvements as far as Dragonslayer is concerned for sure considering all the magical items the HP side of things has.
Exiled Soul Nomad: It was needed indeed. I included a hint as to the child at the end of this chapter.
Tero7323: I'm honored that you think so highly of this story. I'll do my absolute best to keep making more chapters of that quality.
Kaxipoptos: More interactions with Guts and other HP characters will be coming as a way to draw parallels between him and Harry when he was first dropped in the Berserk side of things. So glad you found that Puck line funny, I gave him another line like that this time around too. Harry being more mature has a lot to do with looking up to Guts and being in the Berserk side for a few years. Guts does treat kids like Isidro and Harry how he wishes he had been. As for Umbridge holding High Inquisitor title, while Voldemort is back, she is one who holds onto any position of power granted to her and flaunts it around. And yeah, those three figures are basically the ones that resonate most with Guts.
greenwings33: I'm so happy that you liked it. Enjoy the next update.
Guest: Thank you. I'll do my best to keep up the good work.
Readingallwayz4life: I'm glad you discovered this story and that it is able to entertain.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
It was hard to believe. Impossible even, but… this was magic they were dealing with and from what he had seen previous, there was next to no limit of what it could or couldn't do. The words, those three words kept coming back, repeating themselves over and over in Guts' head.
"Casca. That's me."
It had been her voice, not the child-like mumbles and gurgles she had been making since that day. He kept trying to imagine her face when she had, at last, woke up. his attention had largely been focused on the three mages who had undergone the process close to half a day previous. When he saw he sit up in that bed, her long, dark hair framing her face, Guts thought that he was actually in a dream himself and their roles had been reversed.
"Casca. That's me."
She said those words upon hearing her name. And he said nothing after that.
What was he to say? How would he say it even if he could find the voice to say it? Maybe it wouldn't matter; she was the one who had been silent long enough. He didn't know, he hoped she would say something else, anything else.
That was why it was both a blessing and a curse when the medi-witch instantly began a fuss. The matron of the hospital wing had flocked over to Casca's side demanding that they all give her some space. By that, she didn't just mean to back away and not all of a sudden crowd around her and suffocate her, no. She had meant that they all take temporary leave in her office.
"Please, this is a very delicate moment! We mustn't startle her." Pomfrey was starting to draw the curtains around Casca's bed once again. "Just give me a few moments, I want to make sure that everything checks out as it should.
The apprehension, the worry Guts had been feeling began to fade at the witch's words and her action of attempting to shield Casca away after she had just uttered her first words in a few years. Her eyes might still be heavy and a bit clouded with haze, but she was awake. And knowing how she was before, Casca wouldn't like it; she wouldn't like having a woman she did not recognize around her, poking at her, maybe asking her questions she wouldn't have the answer to.
He took half a step forward despite his legs feeling like they had just been hit with a club made out of a rock. "…Hey! What are you planning on-,"
"-Please." The older witch's voice was stern, but not unkind or filled with any sort of deceit. "She is still in a state of recovery. Speech does not guarantee that she is back to how she once was. Please," she was insistent, "I just need a few moments alone with her – that is all."
It seemed such a simple thing to ask, too. For all that had been done, all the waiting, all the anticipation, she stood here asking for but a few minutes alone. Guts no longer heard the voice of the Beast of Darkness, he had managed to suppress it for the time being, but that irrational part of his brain kept popping back up.
He could feel his fist clenching, his knuckles turning white, and then the creaking of metal as his prosthetic fingers curled as well. It still worked.
He didn't say much after that; he just walked to the exit door, opening it and entering the office adjacent to it. The others had followed after him, all anxious in their own right, but also for concern of his person. They were probably worried that he might freak out, he might, he still wasn't sure about that himself.
The office was small compared to what they had seen previously with the headmaster, there was room enough for a desk, two rows of cabinets and a single bed similar to the ones that populated the actual hospital wing. Serpico and Isidro helped ease a still sleepy, but partially awake Sirius black onto the bed. The wizard had begun to wake up from his own portion of sleeping drought about an hour or so ago. There was a stiff, awkward silence that fell over them, no one really saying anything. At last, it was broken by Isidro.
"So, what exactly happened in there?" he might have been trying to break the tension or using it as a distraction to rummage through some of the cabinets to see if there was anything he could steal unnoticed.
Harry then began recapping what had happened since entering the pensieve. There had been some sort of casket with two dolls, one small one as Casca had been after the Eclipse, and one life-sized broken one as she had been before. For each and every memory that they had visited, a piece of Casca had returned to them and helped to further repair the doll. When he described the fight they had had in the epicenter of Casca's mind, it made a bit more sense, at least, as far as he understood magic anyway. The last piece had been located there and was apparently under very heavy guard from the trauma inflicted upon her that day.
Guts kept glancing at the door, expecting it to swing open any second. The sound of his metal fingers moving helped to fill the silence that had fallen once again.
"Guts…" Schierke's voice was soft.
"What is it?" even though his gaze was trained on the door, he was still listening to the short witch.
"There is something else you should be aware of. Back in her mind, the final piece, her heart, there were some thorns around it." Thorns? "We cleared as much of them away as we could with what time we had, but… only a few remained before putting the heart back in place." She paused, waiting to see how he would respond and what he would say next. He gave her a brief glance to let her know she was okay to elaborate on her previous though. "So… there is a chance that she will still feel the trauma and anguish in some way. However," she quickly added, "the mind is able to heal itself, our journey proved that, Casca wouldn't be back if she didn't want to come back. Whatever it is she might feel, it may just be something she has to overcome on her own."
Guts really didn't have it in him to be mad at the moment. He knew the three of them had done what they could inside of Casca's mind and it was a miracle that they had actually gotten this far. But like most things, it wasn't smooth sailing. It would have been far too easy if everything had gone exactly as planned. And as God or causality, or whatever loved to prove time and time again; it really liked to screw people over.
"But… she is back, right?" the question was actually asked by Puck.
"Of course she is," Ivalera said like it was obvious. "That healer lady just wants us out here because she feels she has to do her job."
Puck wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Boy, that's a relief!" he flew over to Guts shoulder. "Hey, Guts, there has been something I've wanted to ask you now that we got Casca back."
That honestly surprised him a bit. While Puck had been useful before, he had never really expressed any kind of desire of his own other than just tagging alone and trying to brighten up the day.
"What's that?"
"Just hear me out on it, okay?"
"What is it?"
"Alright…" he paused for a second. "Cassie!"
What the hell is he talking about?
"What the hell are you talking about?" Guts demanded of the small, blue elf.
"You know how I call Farnese Farny?" Puck asked rhetorically. "Cassie – for Casca!"
A nickname?
"No." Guts instantly replied.
Puck looked dejected. "Are you sure? It fits really-,"
"No."
Crossing his arms, Puck flew to sit on the windowsill. "Fine." He muttered the next part under his breath, "I'll just ask her what she thinks of it."
The mood Puck had been trying to set disappeared when the sound of the door opening drew all of their attention. Madam Pomfrey had entered alone.
"Where is she?" Guts asked before the matron had barely any time to step inside fully.
"Relax, she is fine," the witch told him. "I checked over all that was necessary while she was still a bit hazy. I gave her a brief dosage of rejuvenation potion to counter any sensation of nausea or disorientation she might have experienced. You'll be leased to know that she is able to fully articulate sentences."
"What about her memories?" Harry asked. "They're back too, right?"
"If all was completed inside the pensieve, they should all be there, yes. She was asking a few questions herself such as who and what this place and I are. Some of the more recent memories such as this place might take a bit more time to settle in than some of her previous ones."
So she did remember. She had been asking. He should have been in there, giving answers himself, trying to let her know that she was safe. His metal fingers creaked almost as a reminder to him that the witch did know what she was doing. Guts had never felt the sensation of "phantom limb" with the loss of his forearm, but it was more apparent now that his body and mind clearly had two different operations. So much had changed with him since then.
"I took the liberty of providing her with some fresh garments," the medical witch added. "She seemed rather uncomfortable in those rags she had been wearing." Yeah, that sounded like the old Casca. "There was one other thing as well."
"What?" Guts asked.
"Once she was in a more comfortable mood, she asked to speak with you," she looked solely at Guts. "If you were agreeable to it."
What the hell did that mean "if he was agreeable to it?" Why wouldn't he be? He had wanted to see her again, talk to her again ever since he went off on his own in his quest to slay as many apostles as possible back in his lone Black Swordsman days. Every swing of his sword, every bit of blood that was shed, they had all been acts of retribution for everything that had happened. Of course he wanted to meet with her after all this time.
"Is she ready now?" Guts asked. He was, but going back in there… he didn't know what she would say. He hadn't even really thought about it himself.
Pomfrey nodded. "She is. I came here as soon as she requested so. She mentioned you only by name and that may be best if only you see her at the moment. Too many people, we wouldn't want to over stimulate her all at once."
"Alright then." Before exiting back to the hospital wing, Guts shot the three mages a grateful look. He didn't say anything after that, but they should pick up on it. Even if Casca was ready to bite his head off, at least she would be herself while she did it.
Going back to the now closed hospital wing doors, Guts gave a pull of the knocker and opened one door. He closed it behind him, not even Madam Pomfrey came back, her check-up having been completed for the time being. For now, it was just the two of them.
She had moved out of the bed she had been asleep on, the pensieve now resting on the end table, its contents dull like a void. Her ragged, brown rags were folded at the foot of the bed and she wore a presumably standard white linen gown with a pair of slippers as well. Her attention was not directed at him, but out the window behind her bed, looking out at the sunny weather and the castle grounds below. She was probably taking this all in as much as they all had upon the first arrival.
Casca had yet to turn around so Guts remained where he was near the entrance of the ward. He was sure that she had heard the door open and close, the sound was unmistakable but she had yet to face him. Guts took a step forward, the armor of his boot made a clear noise on the stone floor. He watched as her head perked up a bit with the new sound but she remained as she was.
He took another step towards her and another one. The sound of his metal boots echoed in the near silent ward as he got closer and closer to where Casca was. And then he was there, closing the large gap between them until he was a good arm and a half distance from her. She was still looking out the window, the sight of the green castle grounds, a large willow tree, a hut in the distance by the edge of the forest were all visible to him and her as well.
Sun shone from the surface of the lake and some group of students seemed to have gathered down there, talking amongst themselves and enjoying the nice weather. A lone, pink tentacle protruded from the depths of the lake, splashing up some water and giving a wave to the observers before it dipped back down, submerging back into the deep. Her long, dark hair that had grown out after the Eclipse hid the side of her equally dark eyes so Guts wasn't sure which she was focused on.
For a moment, Guts considered reaching out to touch her. His hand was already moving toward her, but he stopped himself. He remembered how she had reacted when he reached out to her after waking up after being rescued from the Eclipse; she had feared the contact, screamed and ran to hide behind Erica. But she was better now, she spoke, she could remember, she was back.
And she had yet to face him.
He should probably say something. Pomfrey said she wanted to see him first before anyone else, it made sense that he should be the first one to talk. She knew he was here after all.
"…" he opened his mouth, ready to say her name out loud and see how she would respond after being lost in herself.
"It is a view, isn't it?"
She spoke, softly, hesitantly. Her voice sounded frail and new like she was getting used to it after only making childish "oohs" and "aahhs" for the better part of close to three years. She moved her head like she just swallowed a lump in her throat.
He briefly turned his attention back to the sight outside the window. "Yeah. It's some view."
The first words were spoken, they were none too memorable or at all meaningful in the slightest, but Casca was never one for any real romantic words, just ones that were able to carry meaning all of their own.
There was a pause between them before Casca shifted on her feet; she was turning, turning to look at him fully. Her dark eyes were wide, but were not filled with the childish bliss and naivety as they were before, nor were they clouded over like she had recently woken up. Her eyes briefly met his before widening a considerable amount. This was the first she was seeing his face through her own eyes since that day. While the salve Pomfrey had given him had helped to heal the newer scars he had acquired, the one on the bridge of his nose was as unchanged as ever, as was his right eye which he kept closed.
Casca's hand was moving up to her chest, to her heart, but she stopped herself. Her hand went to grip the side of the bed and she averted her gaze, staring not at him, but at a fixed point just to the side of his face.
"Guts…" she spoke his name at last.
"You remember," it was stupid of him to even say that and he hadn't even phrased it as a question. Just hearing her speak, he wanted her to answer, wanted to hear her voice again.
"…I do." She hesitated before speaking once more, her voice still sounding like she was getting used to it. "Some… I feel… I feel like some things are much clearer than others. I know who you are, Guts. I remember Harry, too. And I know who I am. For others… it's all slowly coming back. There are others, too." Casca stopped, not waiting for Guts to talk, but like she was experiencing a flash of memory. "There's another witch, Schierke is her name. And Farnese, she was the one who mostly watched over m – Elaine."
"Elaine?" Guts repeated the name Casca had just spoken.
"That was the name given to me, or, that part of me." Her brow furrowed. "Luca, she came up with that name."
Guts recalled the face of the attractive woman who had taken her in back in St. Albion. Now he at least had a name to put to that aspect of Casca. It would make it much easier than just referring to "how she had been."
Casca continued. "Then there's Serpico, the one who moves like the wind." Yeah, that was an accurate description. "And then there's a boy named Isidro, the one who is always with the one… elf." She said the word like she couldn't really believe it herself. "Two elves, Puck and Ivalera."
"Yeah," Guts confirmed her memories from Elaine's perspective. "That's all of them."
"But there are more," Casca said that more to herself than she did to him. "There's a boat too. The captain… his name is Roderick. And Farnese, she has a brother, Magnificent."
"Magnifico, I think." Honestly, Guts had never had a real interaction with the elder Vandimion sibling. The man was usually confined to his own quarters aboard the Sea Horse and mostly only spoke with Roderick.
Casca just nodded her head, not really looking at him, but still acknowledging that she was remembering. "And… a knight too. One with a black mustache." Sir Azan's title seemed to stick with her. "We were on that boat, sailing to – to," she seemed to be struggling with something. "To try and cure me, cure me of being Elaine. Something happened though. I… I remember a giant white light and then… we got here." He let her process all that had transpired. "A world of magic."
"Harry's world," Guts added, not sure if that would help or not. "That story had first given us about his home and not being able to go back, this is a part of it."
And he saw it; for the briefest of moments, Casca's lips turned upward to a smile. "I… remember that day. He was what, ten? Just a nervous looking little boy with no idea what was going on around him. But from what Elaine saw… he's grown. How old would he be now?"
"Almost fifteen, I'm guessing. Do you… I can bring him in here too if you wanted."
"No," Casca told him. "I do… I do want to see him eventually. Just… I just want you for now." She said that, but still, she refused to meet his gaze, just looking at the same fixed point behind him and to the side of his head.
"What about Rickert?" Guts asked. "What do you remember about him?" Rickert had been one of her caretakers while he was off killing apostles and Harry was off studying magic. And he was also the last living member of the Hawks outside of the three of them. He had been paying attention to every word that Casca was saying, taking them all in and figuring a way to try and steer the conversation. Things were… awkward now, Guts had almost expected Casca to have punched him. A part of him would have preferred that to happen as the ultimate sign that she was really back.
"I remember him always following orders, he was always good with his hands and liked fixing things." The nostalgic memories showed in the expression on her face. "And he was helping watch over Elaine. He and Erica, they would take Elaine outside and play with her, Erica mostly. Elaine liked it, liked her. The old smith – Godo was his name, he was always a bit gruff most of the time, but he still brought Elaine food, water, made her feel comfortable."
"I never really got to thank him for doing that," Guts said. "He was the best at what he did."
Casca slowly nodded, her gaze flickered over to the hilt of Dragonslayer resting on his back. "Where is Rickert now? He and Erica didn't come with us when we went to visit Flora."
"They stayed back at the mine and forge," Guts answered. "They're probably still there now. You remember the old witch?"
Casca nodded. "She helped out. She did what she could to help Elaine – help me. I – a part of me, the Elaine part was aware of what the three of them were doing while going through my mind. Because of Flora, she was able to clear away some of the more challenging obstacles they would have had to face."
Yet another person he wouldn't get to thank.
"How'd she manage that?" he would try to keep the conversation on her, try and let her get accustomed to having her memories back.
"In a way that was… similar to how the three of them did it, I suppose." She kept the answer vague.
"They told me a bit about what they did, well, most of it, really. It doesn't really make all that much sense to me. Magic, the whole sort of it, I just stick to what I know, swinging my sword."
"I know," she wore a soft smile on her face. "You were always like that. When Elaine saw you doing that, I always felt a bit of recognition myself. It was like an anchor almost, a way of letting the pair of us know that some things would still be the same if I ever…" her hand went reaching back up to her heart again, but as before, she stopped herself.
"If you ever came back." Once again, he didn't bother phrasing this as a question. It had been said before that it would only truly work if she wanted to come back to begin with. "But you did, and you are. You-,"
"-That doesn't make me the same." She hadn't shouted or yelled, but her words were enough to cut him off of finishing his sentence. "It's been what, almost three years? You don't mean to say that even if some parts of you are still the same as before that you aren't completely changed. That Harry hasn't matured, that Rickert hasn't honed other crafts. What were you expecting if I ever did come back? Did you think I would be just as I was before?"
"Of course not." Guts could hear his tone take a defensive stance, it had risen a bit as well but not to the level of a yell or anything like that. "I just…"
"What?" her tone had risen too, but like his, it was not driven by anger, but anxiousness. She wanted to hear what it was he had to say.
"I just thought that you'd want to have the choice yourself. That was the one thing I was sure you'd want."
At his words, Casca's body seemed to tense. Her eyes had widened and she was directing her gaze back to his face alone. They were taking in the fading burns, scars, and other various cuts he had acquired. She seemed equally transfixed with the sole patch of white hair that was in the front just above his closed right eye. Her hand was moving again, but not to touch his face or hair, but once again back up to her heart.
Farnese had told him what the final piece had been before it turned into the heart of the doll; the child, the corrupted fetus that had been birthed after the Eclipse. Skull Knight had told him that he was better off just killing the child when he had the chance and that it would cause problems along the line, was this what he had been referring to? Had the old bone head known that Casca would be healed?
Guts quickly decided that that was not the case. It was just part of the Skull Knight's other worldly nature to never give a straight answer as to what he meant. But the ancient warrior was still out there somewhere, probably trying to find other ways of stopping the God Hand and continuing the fight against all monstrous creatures.
Casca stopped staring at him and inclined her head again to stare at the fixed point she had before. Her one hand fiddled with one of the long bangs that fell to her shoulders.
"Do you want to get that cut?" Guts asked a minor question in context to all things. "There's probably a pair of scissors around."
The question brought some much-needed diffusion to what they had previously been talking about. "Oh." She sounded like she had just become aware that she had been fiddling with her hair. "That… I'll probably do it eventually. I always hated having long hair; just the way it touches the back of my neck, I've never liked that."
Guts nodded, accepting her choice. "It doesn't look too bad the way it is," he offhandedly commented.
"Then why did you ask about my hair?" he was actually a bit glad to hear a bit of the old irritation present in her voice when she asked that.
"Because I know you kept it short for a reason. I just said it doesn't look bad who it is now." Farnese could probably help her cut or comb it; she had experience with those kinds of things.
She looked like she was about to smile. "Your hair hasn't grown out at all. It's still as-," her eyes flickered back to his mostly black hair. That single patch of white stood out as a reminder of his first time donning the Berserker Armor. For a brief second, she seemed to have forgotten that it was there.
"It's no big deal," Guts tried to assure her. "Everyone goes gray at some point." It was probably a lot to take in all at once and he couldn't blame her for being unsure of herself or what she was going to say next. Hell, he didn't even know if what he had been saying was important or not.
"No big deal?" Casca repeated the words he had just spoken. "What do you mean by that?"
"It happened after a fight," Guts recalled almost losing himself to the ark powers of the armor. "It's no different than getting any kind of scar. I'm used to it." She wasn't even looking near him anymore. Her eyes were now downcast entirely. "Casca?"
Her arm moved out, a fist collided with the chest piece of the Berserker Armor. It was a weak punch in both execution and force. He barely even felt a thing from it physically. With all the time that had passed since Casca had once held a sword, her muscle had faded over time.
"And how many?" she looked back up at him; her eyes looked puffy with unshed tears. "How many scars have you gotten during that time that you brushed off as being 'no big deal'?" She swallowed a lump in her throat; her voice sounding like it might crack. "She remembers. Elaine, she remembers. She saw you at the heart of all those fights. Back at the tower when we were about to get burned, at that cottage, at Vritannis, the forest when you got that horrible armor, against Zodd when you tried getting at…" he knew exactly what name she was about to say. He had been actively avoiding saying his name of all things unsure of how she was going to react to hearing it spoken out loud. But now that it was on the tip of her tongue, there was no avoiding the reaction she would have.
She quickly shut her mouth, looking like she might bite her tongue and the first tear escaped from the corner of her eye. "You…" she choked out her next words. "You did all of that, went through all of that, endured so much pain to try and kill…Griff – Fem… to try and kill him." Casca didn't even bother restraining her hand as it went to clench at her heart. "But… that wasn't all. You did it for me, too."
"Of course I did," Guts said like it was obvious. "You… I told you before; I wanted you to have that choice. You wanted to come back too, you said so."
She blinked her eyes to clear away some more tears that were welling up. Then she asked her next question, "Why?"
"What?" Guts asked her, confusion evident in his voice. "What do you mean, 'why'?"
"Why'd you do it? You had no way of knowing before if I had the choice to come back, and if you did were you expecting me to be just as I was, a link to the past that was longed for?"
"Of course I didn't think that!" Guts quickly denied that thought. After what had happened to him as a child, there was no way he ever expected Casca to just be exactly who she was. People just didn't have something traumatic happen to them and not come out the other end unchanged by it, Casca was acting like that right now; so hesitant before saying something, completely different from the abrasive side she always took when speaking with him.
He continued speaking, "I never expected you to be the woman you once were. I wouldn't have done those things if I didn't care."
"You shouldn't have had to do any of it to begin with!" her voice was raised and her hand tightened on the fabric of her white gown. "All your scars, your hair, every broken bone, every drop of blood you lost, you never should have had to deal with any of it just because of me and the idea that I may not have been able to come back at all! Having seen all that through Elaine, seeing what you and everyone else went through, I didn't…" she was starting to get choked up again. "I didn't want to let it all be for nothing. I didn't want you of all people going through anymore because of me being selfish!"
Now he was really getting confused by her words. "What are you talking about? How are you even blaming yourself for being Elaine?"
"Because!" more tears escaped from her eyes. "Because I didn't want you to be disappointed with who I might be after! After what happened that day…" her brows were knit and her body tense. "After that…I had no idea how to handle any of that! I just let Elaine come out and hid somewhere inside. In one day the world I thought I knew went to one filled with demons, gods, and now… magic like this place, this… whole other world! That scared me. And I wanted to come back, but just trying to escape… I just kept thinking… would you still want me even if I wasn't how I used to be?" her hand was still over her heart and she had averted her gave once more.
So… that was it.
"Casca, look at me." He kept his voice firm, but soft.
"Guts…" she shook her head lightly.
"Look at me for a moment." He took a step closer, closing the gap between them. Her body tensed up some more, but she didn't jump away. Eventually, Casca turned her gaze to look back up at him again, her eyes still red and puffy. "I want you to listen to me, alright? You don't have to blame yourself." He reached his hand out to put it on the top of her head. Upon feeling his touch, Casca went wide-eyed and took a tentative half-step away. Her hand tightened once again over her heart.
"Guts, I…"
"You don't have a single damn thing to feel sorry about. I'd still be getting scars no matter what, you know that. And even if you hadn't been Elaine, I would have still done all of that." His singular brown eye met with her two darker ones. "I never expected you to be exactly as you were; just Casca."
He kept his hand on her head, his fingers feeling the silky texture of her dark hair. She still had wide eyes like a doe, but… she began to relax her body, her shoulders dropped not being as tense as they had been before. She took a step closer to him as well, her forehead head butted and rested against the chest of the Berserker Armor.
"You're a fool." She repeated the same insult she had over and over back at the waterfall.
"Yeah, I know that."
He saw her free hand snake its way up, close to his face. The feeling of her hand on the side of his face was one touch that he didn't mind, one that he had actually wanted to feel for some time. For right now, he could just stay like this. As he looked down at Casca, he could almost feel the next thing she was about to ask from the way she kept her other hand close to her heart like she was cradling it.
"What about the boy?"
"What do you mean? The one we saw at the cottage?"
Casca nodded her head against the armor. "After the night we had together… I had a feeling the next morning, but I… didn't want to jump to a conclusion." So she had been suspecting that she had been pregnant. "One of the first things Elaine remembers is… the child – our child."
"I saw it," Guts told her, noticing the look he got when he called the child an "it." "Back at the Tower of Conviction, that was the last I saw… our child."
At his words, Casca was shaking her head. "No, it wasn't. The cottage, you said so yourself."
"That was a boy that just showed up," Guts said, not really sure if he fully believed it himself.
"He would have been the same age as our child," Casca said, sadness clouded her eyes. "Elaine knew. She knew as soon as she saw him. And… that part of me that was there knew it too. Call it whatever you want, we both knew it when we saw him."
"…" Guts kept silent as he let Casca let a few more tears free. He didn't have any real words that might help with this. "You may be right," was all he had to say.
"Do you want to find him, too?" Casca asked him.
"You're asking me?"
"You may not like it, but you were the one leading everyone. Elaine saw all of that."
"I…" while he had been cautious of the boy when he first saw him, the child was a different story. He had almost crushed it in his hand but was unable to, and every time it showed up on his journey as the Black Swordsman, he would always dismiss it and shun it for what it was. "I'll do what you want," Guts finally settled on.
Casca was studying his face again, searching every aspect of it. She rested her head back on the chest piece. "Such a fool."
She wasn't the same; she might not ever be the same again. But there was still that one part of Casca that Guts knew was never going to change. He just stood there with her, savoring the moment while he could. She would probably ask to meet with everyone else soon enough, but for now, he was content to just be alone with her.
Blue eyes flickered open slowly as the feeling of the chilly night air breezed into the bedroom. The winter season was past and spring was transitioning over to summer but that did not mean that the nights were getting any warmer. It might have also been due to the fact that her room was high up and the terrace window was open, making the cool breeze feel that much more.
Throwing the blankets off of herself before tucking them back into place, she went to go and shut the terrace window, the cold chill of the wind had awoken the primary instinct of having to use the washroom. She took one blanket off the bed to drape around her shoulders for added warmth with her white nightgown.
Closing the glass door, Charlotte was able to get a magnificent view of the city below at night. Some homes and shops still had fires going as evidenced by the smoke rising from the chimneys. But what was most captivating to her right now was the sight of the large, silvery moon hanging in the night sky above.
It was full again. Strange, considering she was sure that a month had yet to pass since the last time it was full. Or maybe it had been a month, with the war with the Kushan invaders having concluded, it would feel like time was different after having been caught up in the conflict.
She did her business in the washroom that was adjacent to the room she had to herself. The hallway was dark, the torches had gone out and needed to be relit. It was hard to see in the dark, but the sound of breathing was not hard to hear.
"W-who's there?" she called out, expecting perhaps Sir Owen or Sir Laban to answer her back and give her the comfort that she was safe.
No one did answer her. The breathing kept steady, coming from around the corner just to the side of her room. She back away from entering back, remembering that there had supposedly been a break-in of the palace the other day that Sir Owen had been working to try and find. Was this the intruder?
She was ready to run, to run and go find Griffith. It was… all she could do. But her legs refused to move once whoever was behind that corner stepped out into the open for her to see. "Oh, my!"
Her legs did move, but not out of fear, but of concern. Instead of looking up at some strong and intimidating man, Charlotte had to look down at the small boy clad in only a light, oversized white tunic. She knelt down to better face the boy who stared at her with large, dark eyes; eyes that were nearly as dark as his long, black hair.
"Little boy, where did you come from?" the fear she had felt about being attacked was instead replaced by concern for this boy's presence. "Where are your parents?"
She considered the fact that he might be the son of one of the surviving Midland Lords who survived the Kushan War but thought better of it. If he was the son of a lord, he would be wearing a fitted nightgown and one with his family crest on it as well. And while some lords did have long hair, she could not imagine any mother who would be okay with letting a boy's hair grow out this long without cutting it.
The boy did not answer her, though. He just stared into her blue eyes and reached a hand out to touch one of her brown locks. If any guard was nearby, they would have pulled the boy away for daring to touch a hair on the queen's head, but for one as young as this, it was no problem to her. The only others outside of Anna whom she considered a friend was Minister Foss' young daughter, Elize and she was still a child in her own.
"Can you not speak?" it was a redundant question, but maybe her voice could help soothe the boy and make him feel more comfortable. "Are you hungry? I have a bowl of fruit in my room if you would like some." He fidgeted with the loose fitted white tunic. "Are you cold?" she took the blanket she had draped over her own shoulders and put it over his. "Is that better?"
He pulled the blanket over the top of his head, almost like how one would wear a cloak. He looked back up at her and blinked a few times.
"It's warm, isn't it?" she couldn't help but smile at the boy. Even though she was the Queen of Midland, she held power through name only. It was Griffith who the people admired. Griffith had given them this city, this haven from the horrors outside. If she was to one day marry him, then she must also earn the respect of those same people, even if she had to start with one as young as this child.
Reaching out, Charlotte extended one hand to the boy. "Come. If you are hungry, I will feed you."
He studied her hand for a moment before wrapping his small hand around her slim index finger. The table in her room still had the bowl of fruit Anna had brought her after dinner. She was pleased to see that the grapes, apples, and pears were still looking fresh enough to eat.
"Here you go," Charlotte was able to lift him up into one of the seats. She wasn't strong by any means, he was just incredibly light. She poked a grape with a fork and brought it close to his mouth. Her joy grew when he ate it without complaint. "It's good, isn't it? It was grown right outside of the city. The land there is fertile for all crops."
She took a seat next to the boy and helped cut a pear for him. It was a nice feeling. Not just because she hoped to earn the respect of the people she would rule, but just the sense of helping a boy like this made her feel good. His parents must be worried sick wondering where he is.
"Where did you come from?" she asked. "Is your mother close by?"
She got the closest thing to an answer when the boy moved his head to the side almost as if to say, "no."
"Oh. She's not… is she…" having lost her own mother at the age of six, she would hate to find out that this child's mother had met the same fate.
Once again, he gave a slight shake of his head.
Thank goodness. "You are lost then?" he didn't really give any sort of response or reaction to that question. Instead, his attention was drawn to the two figurines Charlotte had upon her end table. "Oh, hold on a moment." She brought the two figurines over for him to inspect. "These are from a set my own mother once owned, see." They were two wooden carvings of a princess and a knight with a lance. "These are the last of the set. Here, you may look at them."
As suspected for a boy, he didn't really take much interest in the princess figure, but more with the helmed knight with a lance. He played around with the arm that moved on a metal peg.
"Was – er, is your father a knight?" he lightly moved his head, not in a full nod, but still as an indication. "A hedge knight or mercenary, then? He must be quite strong." Mercenaries had always scared her with their rough manners and thirst for blood, but Griffith was a former mercenary leader and he was nothing like that. "I hope that you get to see them, then. Many people's families are gone now. My own included."
While she did not consider the previous king to be her father after what he attempted to do to her that night nearly three years ago, she still remembered her mother fondly. And Sirs Laban and Owen were always watching out for her. And with Griffith… looking at this boy, maybe she would get to have a child of her own too. Charlotte yawned, the reality of the hour started to settle back in.
"You seem to greatly enjoy that figure." She smiled kindly at him. "You must not have many toys to play with back at your home." She studied the princess one she held onto. She had intended to give the knight figurine to Griffith on their wedding day as a present, but someone as majestic as him would either not accept it out of kindness or have no use for it in his future duties as king.
"If you would like, you may hold onto it." It was hard to say those words knowing that it was of the last links she had to her mother, but she was not a child anymore either. She closed his fingers around the figure. "Maybe one day, you'll get to become a knight like him; that way, you may present this figure to my child, when the day comes."
The boy was looking at her strangely now. "Huh? What is it?"
He was reaching a hand out to her head. His mouth moving like he was trying to say something. "…" he tried again. "…" his tiny hand touched her forehead. "…gai..." and it was like a spark had set off in her head. She thought she saw another pair of blue eyes staring at her from across the room. The boy's hand was already being drawn back, going back to picking grapes from the bowl.
Did I pass out all of a sudden? It was just the two of them alone in the room, no one else. She waited until the boy had finished eating before lifting him up in her arms, supporting his weight as he wrapped his arms around her neck.
"Come, I'll take you to Lord Griffith, he'll know what to do." If the boy had made a face of apprehension, she didn't see it. The hall was still dark, but Griffith's chambers were located directly down the hall from her room. That would change once they were married, of course.
She had yet to reach out to knock on the door to Griffith's chambers when she felt the boy tug on her hair. "Ow!" she lightly cried out, a few tears prickling the corner of her eyes. "What is wrong? Are you – ah!"
Staring at the both of them from around the darkened corner, a pair of cat-like eyes stared out at them, reflecting the light from the moon outside. Charlotte took a step back; her one hand that wasn't supporting the child went to protect the back of his head, to avert his attention away from the sight of those eyes that could belong to only one individual.
"You come at a late hour, little sparrow." The hulking human form stepped closer. "Do you seek to find comfort with him? Your ancestors would certainly frown upon you if you did."
"I… I… no." she kept the boy's head turned from seeing the brute that was Griffith's guard, Zodd. "I… only… wished to speak with him."
Her voice was small, but it still seemed to be enough for Griffith to hear from the other side of his door. Both of their eyes were drawn to the sight of Griffith standing there looking immaculate as ever. It brought a sense of courage to her heart to see Griffith standing there especially when his eyes were fixed solely on her.
"Queen Charlotte. Whatever may I do for you at this hour?"
"Lord Griffith, I am sorry to disturb you at such a time, truly, I am. But, you see, I found this boy down the corridor just outside of my room. I thought… you might want to see him."
Griffith took notice of the boy clinging to her neck. "Ah. How fortunate that you have found him. I was wondering where he had run off to."
"You know this boy, Lord Griffith?" that was a huge relief. At least now he would be safe.
"Indeed I do. You might recall Sir Owen having to deal with an issue of a trespasser a few days ago. He seems to have wandered in by himself. May I?"
"Oh, of course." Charlotte set the boy down, who seemed a bit reluctant to let go of her, but Griffith guided the boy over to his side.
"You have my thanks, Your Majesty. I'll escort him back to his parents, rest assured."
"Thank you so much, Lord Griffith. He really is a sweet boy; I hope his parents will not be angry with him."
"I imagine they will be quite relieved to see him." Griffith took the boy's hand in his own. "I'll escort him out."
"Will it not be more convenient to wait until morning?" it made little sense to go out at night.
"Mothers worry," Griffith told her. "I think they'll be awake for this."
"I see." She knelt down to smile at the boy. "Take care, little one. Please do not wander off again."
"You are a natural with children, Your Highness."
"I hope so," she felt a blush rising. "If… I am to be a mother myself one day."
To her pleasure, Griffith smiled back. "You would be a natural, I'm sure. I have never given much thought to my lineage, but if our child will be anything like this young boy, I think we can expect great things one day."
She watched his every step as he led the boy by hand down the corridors of the palace and to where the exit and drawbridge was. The boy took one final glance back at her before he rounded a corner with Griffith, disappearing from sight.
"You are an ambitious girl." She became startled once again. Zodd was still standing at the corner, his cat-like eyes fixed on her making her feel like a true sparrow before a predator.
"I… do not know what you mean."
"For a girl like you to carry his child. No doubt it will be exceptional, but I wonder if your body could handle it. One so weak as yourself, you would be unable to handle the effects it would have on your body." He did not speak with malice, but with a tone that conveyed cold truth. "It would be the end of a bloodline for the expense of the divine right of kings." He turned away from her frightened form.
"Best go to sleep, little sparrow. You might find solace in a world you dream up from the reality that is."
He left her there alone. She wished that his words were wrong; that her child would grow into the future king and that he might one day get the knight figurine back from that sweet boy. A boy she would pray would reunite with his parents.
A/N: I have no idea if that is how the reunion will go in the manga and no one will ever be able to write it like Miura would, but the reunion has happened here. Casca will have a chance to reunite with everyone else next chapter but if anyone was going to get a chapter alone with her, it was going to be Guts. Thank you for reading.