The Rough Road to the Stars
by Capella A. Morningside
Summary: Re-titled. Sequel to "Hinc Illae Lacrimae". Slight shounen-ai. After the tragic events at Fort Dragonia, there were those left behind, with no comfort but the chill of empty words and winds. This is their story. Complete.
Author's Note: Welcome to the third and final part of "The Rough Road to the Stars", 'Megaera'. This last bit intends to tie up all the loose ends and finally, give everyone a bit of closure. And for me, this shall be quite fun, working with some little-used characters and different themes and ideas.
Sunlight danced across the wooden floors and tables, pouring in through the faded linen curtains, occasionally blinding the teenage girl when the light's reflection gleamed on the silver pot hanging over the fireplace. Impatiently, she tapped the wooden spoon against her open palm, leaning forward a bit to check on the pot's boiling contents. Taking in a deep breath, she inhaled the scent, a pleased look befalling her lovely features.
"Almost done," she mused to herself. "And I should hope so. Those boys will be in any minute... they are sure to be famished."
Riddel paused, her cheer faltering for only a moment as a mysterious metallic rattling sound sounded out from behind her, near the tray of cookies she'd smuggled in. Peering over her shoulder, the girl then tried not to laugh as a little head ducked beneath the crate just a second too late to escape her notice. Smiling, she then turned back to the pot, saying in an all-too-loud voice: "Silly me. It must have been the wind."
Her suppression became more difficult when the crate then gave a little mischievous snicker. Pretending to be occupied with the pot, Riddel bided her time, waiting until the potential cookie thief had decided the coast was clear. A few seconds later, and the tell-tale tapping of fingertips against the metal tray was all it took.
"I caught you!" she called out abruptly, spinning around. There was a yelp in response, the skinny blonde boy falling to the floor in surprise, just missing the claiming of his prize.
"Come on, Miss Riddel..." Glenn pleaded. "Just one?"
Resolve in her voice, she responded with a firm:"Absolutely not."
The boy frowned, giving her his most piteous eyes.
"No," Riddel repeated. Then, "What are you doing in here, Glenn? You should be outside training. You want to be big and strong, do you not?"
A nod, but Glenn then lowered his head shamefully. "Big brother and Karsh won't let me spar with them. They say I'm a weakling..."
"Well, that is terribly rude of them," the girl responded, flipping her deep blue hair over one shoulder. "I am sorry to hear they are being so mean today."
The younger approached Riddel carefully, looking beyond her at the contents of the pot. "Can you tell them to stop?"
She shook her head, chuckling. "They will not listen to me, in this matter. I am sorry, Glenn."
A disappointed sound from the youth, leaning against the nearby table and looking over its contents with disinterest. "Well, then, can I stay here and help you, Miss Riddel?"
"Trust a little thief to help me cook? I most certainly think not!"
Glenn sniffled, pouting as convincingly as he could.
She sighed. "But, I will help you with the boys." Setting the wooden spoon carefully aside, the teenager strolled past Glenn, towards the metal tray containing the sweets. "These were meant to be a surprise for all of you, but since Dario and Karsh are not being nice, they do not deserve any."
The blonde's eyes brightened immediately. "Then may I have one? Pretty please?"
"Normally, since you tried to steal one, I would say no. But in this case..." Riddel spun around, a smile on her face and a stack of three cookies in her hand. "Of course." Glenn gave a little cry of victory, running to claim his prize with all the speed he could.
Unable to stifle it, Riddel covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled at the sight. "Now Glenn, make sure the other boys know that I said they cannot have any, for being mean to you, okay?"
"Th-thanks!" Glenn stuttered, holding the cookies as if they were the only food he'd had for years. Within seconds, however, he was gone, and the inquiries of the older boys could soon be heard from outside as to where their younger companion obtained those delicious-looking treats...
"Miss Riddel, you alright?"
The woman was snapped back into the present by the gruff voice of Karsh, as he stood over her, concerned. "I am sorry, Karsh. I was just..." Riddel trailed off.
"Ah, ya ain't gotta explain yerself to me. We're all just havin' hard times, is all." He extended a hand, helping her up from the edge of the bed she sat on, and glanced over at the sleeping General. "On the bright side, I think your dad's doin' a lot better."
"I believe so." A sigh, along with a heavy-hearted sound. "I was just thinking about happier times. Lost in memories of days gone by."
"I've been doin' a lot of that myself, lately."
Riddel lowered her head, holding her forehead with her hand. "Why did you not tell me, Karsh?"
The dragoon didn't respond.
"When I asked you if everyone was alright... if all our friends were safe... you would not answer. You let me find out on my own. Just like..."
"When Dario died." Karsh finished for her, shamefully. Unable to face her questioning eyes, the taller man turned away from the object of his admiration, crossing his arms, crimson eyes glaring at the floor in self-disgust.
"Do you think I am not able to handle such news?" came Riddel's accusing inquiry. The man's muscles tensed, almost in a cringing motion, and immediately the Lady of the Manor was struck with guilt. "I am truly sorry. I did not mean to take such a tone with you."
"And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just don't like seein' you all upset, Miss Riddel," he softly replied, still not facing the woman.
"And I do not wish to see anyone upset," she said. Silence reigned a few moments, until Riddel asked: "What happened to him, Karsh?"
"Lynx," was the only answer.
"No." Riddel shook her head. "Please. You know what I am asking. Tell me... tell me how Glenn died. I want to know."
"It's unfittin' to tell something like that to a lady," Karsh protested, nodding negatively, but nearly freezing in place as he felt Riddel's warm hand on his shoulder.
"As unfitting as it may be, I want to know."
"Miss Riddel, I can't-"
Her hand tensed. "Please. You do not wish to reveal to me how Dario died, and I have respected that all this time. But do not keep me in the dark about Glenn. I want to know if he died doing something he believed in, if he fought valiantly, if he suffered..."
Noting the choking tone of the lady's last few words, Karsh glanced over his shoulder, only to see the woman's eyes misted over with tears. "A-alright," he conceded. "I don't know much detail, but I'll tell you what I do..."
Just when you get used to something, things change on you all over again. I was getting used to the bulky form, the instinct to scratch on things near me when I got bored, and the cravings for seafood... when I was re-born, thrown back into the body intended for me from birth. I can speak again, I have my own name back as well... but I wonder somehow if this is what I want.
I have the identity of a cowardly murdering fairy-boy once again.
A week before I got this body back, a discovery I made in my quest for solitude in my home dimension one day led to more drama than I could have imagined. I had only been wandering a small forested island just offshore of the central island when a figure out of a painting I'd seen only once came to life before my eyes. Tall, built, sun-colored hair and sad blue eyes, everything his younger sibling wished he could have been. Dario.
It must have been a surprise when I came back to the other world and the S.S. Invincible and spent a good ten minutes trying to squeeze the words of my discovery out of my feline throat. Everyone present gathered around the spectacle of me attempting to speak like it was the event of a lifetime; Van was even laughing, until, that is, Norris scared him off. I still recall their looks of shock when it hit them what I was trying to say; that their beloved Dario was still alive in the other dimension.
Riddel, Karsh, and later, Radius, practically demanded I take them to see him, and I simply complied as is my way. Being unsure of what was exactly going on, not sharing this past they all did, I held back from their conversation. It seemed Dario couldn't remember them, and when Riddel tried to make him recall through showing him some kind of necklace, he pretty much lost it. The Masamune came to him, and I had barely picked up my swallow when he charged us.
No one got out without an array of scrapes, cuts, bruises, and a few more serious injuries, and the battle itself went so terribly I was sure at one point we were all thoroughly done for. As much as my bitterness for the others had faded, I didn't want to take them down with me if I were to die there. I would have deserved it, and what better person to carry out the avenging than Glenn's older brother?
After he got his memories back and the insanity out of him, this big, tough warrior started... building an orphanage. Alright, not what I expected, but it was after all his fiancée's idea.
It became my job for a couple of days to be a dimensional ferryman, taking a set of a few people at a time to see Dario for one reason or another. The most significant of these was the last. Karsh approached me on the S.S. Invincible with that serious look he rarely gets, asking me to take him to the other dimension for a visit, claiming he had something to give Dario, and mumbled something about a dragoon tradition that had to be carried out. Since Van wanted to visit his home back in Termina, I shrugged and nodded, and within an hour we were underway.
"Dario, ya know how all the dragoons are alive in that other world?" Karsh looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight as he stood before his long-time friend, and I knew exactly what was coming.
"Yes?" Dario prompted the other to go on, glancing off to one side to check the progress of two large men hanging a sign.
"Well, all except one."
The blonde was suddenly interested, but silent, those all-too-familiar eyes looking between me and his fellow Deva. Karsh took a deep breath, seeming to compose himself, and fell roughly to both knees in front of Dario. Reaching over his own shoulder, into the large traveling bag, he carefully pulled out the shining mythril sword, much to the surprise of myself and apparently of Dario, who almost cringed as it was held up to him. He hesitantly accepted it, inspecting the somewhat worn, sentimentally valued sheath.
"My brother is dead," he said, stoic. "In my world, and in yours."
Karsh only nodded as he staggered back to a stand.
Still handling the sword as if it were forged from glass, the blonde turned away from us, cradling it nearly in his arms with a deep sigh. "I must get back to work. It was good to see you again, Karsh, Serge."
Silently, I wondered how much longer I could lie.
Taking a heavy gulp from the crudely made jug of water, the man's aging, weary eyes scanned over the pages of a book; the only thing he could find to pass the time aboard the pirate ship. It wasn't exactly interesting to him, all it spoke of were the myths and lores surrounding various creatures of the sea, real or imaginary, yet for the location he found it, it was to be expected. It made him miss his library back at the exquisite manor, and vaguely he wondered if the Porre soldiers had left the place in good shape thus far.
The General was alone today, and this was quite a rarity nowadays; his Devas had been especially close as of late, usually one or sometimes two of them would linger nearby, glancing over his shoulder occasionally, watching him with their bewildered glances from across the room. Since Termina had been lost, they were just wandering spirits now, magnetically orbiting around their leader and patiently waiting for him to give them some order, some purpose. Loss was their constant companion now, and though Viper hoped with all his being that this would soon change, the future would not come easy.
At times, he chose to blame himself entirely for most of these grave happenings, since he was the one that chose to place so much on the line for what Lynx was saying. Even after the man had almost gotten his daughter killed, he forced himself to retain that trust, thinking it was all for the sake of his city and his dragoons. In the end, he and his daughter had narrowly escaped death, his dragoons were in danger, and one of them was gone forever. Unforgivable miscalculation, but his loyal officers refused to find him at fault, pinning the entire blame on Lynx. Hearing someone timidly requesting entrance to the cabin, Viper set his dull book aside. "Come in."
"G-General?"
A welcome change, it was not one of his desperately bored dragoons. The General was somewhat relieved as Serge, the unspoken leader of the large group, meekly stepped in.
"Ah, Serge. How are you today, young man? What can I do for you?"
The teenager shut the door behind him, as quietly as if he were afraid of waking someone, and strolled over to seat himself on the bed across from where the older man sat. "Oh, well... nothing, really. Just looking for someone to talk to, I guess."
"Well, you've come to the right place." The General rubbed his hands together vigorously. "I've got no pressing matters at the moment. Say whatever you wish."
"There's-s... something on my mind," Serge began, stumbling over his words, his eyes watching the floor. "I've been wanting to say it for a long time, but..."
"But? What hinders you?"
A sigh. "The others will hate me when they know."
The older gentleman knotted his brows in concern. "My boy, if you're keeping such a pressing secret from your comrades, it will only get worse, the longer you wait. In addition, it may start to affect your performance in battle."
"I know, I know." Serge groaned. "And that's why I'm saying something now."
"Well... go ahead."
There was silence for several moments. "It's about what happened at Fort Dragonia."
Viper didn't respond, merely sitting, patient, on the bed.
"I... I-I..." the younger man stuttered, before blurting out the words: "I killed Glenn."
The air in the room went still, the creaking of the wooden ship were the only audible sound. The General drew his lips tightly together, contemplating a response to such a confession, but the only thing he could think of was; "Why?"
"It was an accident. He... he thought I was Lynx. He was attacking me, I was trying to block , and the scythe, I didn't know how to use it..."
Serge's desperate spill of words was cut off at the sensation of a powerful, yet gentle hand on his shoulder. "Then it is not your fault. It is no one's fault..."
"You must understand," the boy felt himself saying. "I never would have intentionally done it! I would have rather died than hurt him! I-" Immediately his hands flew to his mouth, covering any more words he could have said as he felt the tears rising.
"I see. Then you... ah..." Out of mercy, the General left the statement unfinished, slowly removing his hand from the upset teenager's shoulder. "Do you plan to tell the others?"
Serge shook his head in dissent. "I can't."
"Then, would you like me to inform them?"
"It would be better that way." A nod.
A third voice rang out, startling both. "Why's that? Because you're afraid?"
The teen meekly stood, feeling crushed under the immense weight of the piercing glare given by a set of angered crimson eyes. The owner of the stare was blocking his only escape, fists clenched and more than ready to start a fight.
With trembling lips, Serge formed the words, "K-Karsh. Please, let me-"
"Let ya what?" the Deva interrupted. "Let ya go? Let ya explain? I think I've heard enough already." A pause. "Outside."
"I won't fight you," the younger softly responded.
The General's voice was gentle, but authoritative, as he stood, taking cautious steps toward his officer. "Karsh, stop this nonsense at once. Do not exhaust your rage on this boy. He is not to blame."
"With all due respect sir, ya heard him confess!"
"And I also heard his heartfelt explanation that it was all an accident."
A shudder ran through the lavender-haired man's body. "Awfully heartfelt, indeed..."
Serge lowered his head shamefully.
"I will have none of that!" Viper boomed, in a voice loud enough to set even Karsh cringing. "That is none of your business in the first place. I suggest you leave, Karsh, until you can speak to Serge in a civilized manner." Not one to question the orders of his leader, the axeman gave a stiff half-bow, a glare to the youth that told Serge that their conflict was far from over, and left at a brisk pace.
"I apologize on his behalf," the older man said, turning to the still-shivering Serge. "But I would like to warn you... it is best if you do not linger on this ship for the next few days. There will be some negative sentiments against you for a while. Find somewhere to rest, you must be fully prepared to face the Sea of Eden soon in any case."
"I should do a painting of this place, you know?"
Van's voice snapped Serge out of his trance, his grip on the bellflowers held tightly in his palm growing taut for a moment. The artist was seated casually on a rock nearby, eyes scanning over the gravesite and its surroundings as if trying to memorize them. Pushing up his glasses, he glanced over at the older boy momentarily. "Go on. Do whatever it is you were going to do."
Carefully, the teenager knelt on the dry earth, laying the blue flowers delicately at the base of the tombstone, taking a moment to arrange them so they looked as perfect as he could muster. Pulling off one glove with his teeth, Serge then let his bare fingers trace over the inscribed words in contemplation.
"I'm... sorry," he whispered.
Van cleared his throat, prompting, and with a sigh the other gave in.
"I don't know if it would have disgusted you, but... I really l-liked you. I'm sure you already know by now. But, I kinda wish I'd gotten to tell you in life."
"So sorry," came a soft, feminine voice behind him. "I am interrupting. I will come back later..."
"Riddel?" Serge questioned, not rising from his place but looking over his shoulder. "How did you get here?"
"Pip and I borrowed a boat from the ship when no one was looking. He's asleep at the moment." The woman forced a smile.
"They're going to be frantic when they realize you went off by yourself," Van reasoned, digging in his brown side-bag for something.
"I will only be missing for a short time, and besides, Pip is with me. I am sure it is safe enough."
The painter muttered something incomprehensible, most likely sarcastic.
"I came to visit, but I am glad I have found you, Serge," Riddel went on. "I wanted to apologize."
"For what?" came the hollow inquiry.
"The way Karsh behaved was uncalled for, and I am sorry he treated you in such a manner. Daddy told me everything this morning." Her slender hand came to a rest on his shoulder, rubbing gently. "I do not blame you at all."
"It's nice to know someone doesn't."
The Lady sighed. "Just give it time. They will come to reason, eventually. Many of us were very close to Glenn, you understand, that is why we are very affected by this news."
"I know," Serge nodded. "I know. I... was too."
"I know how it feels... to lose someone you felt so strongly about." A surprised look from the teenager. "Do not be startled. Daddy told me everything. I do not share Karsh's outlook on that situation, and I am sure that in time he will accept it too. I just would like you to know, Serge... that you can speak with me anytime if you need to talk."
"Thank you."
I have regained my strength. I will fight, knowing that if I live, I will remember you forever, and if I die, I will see you again. Either way, I am content.
Bonds have been broken. Trust has been betrayed. When it all comes down to it, this has served as a harsh reminder to every single one of us that we are not immortal, death may come seeking us at any time, Atropos may close the golden scissors around our life-threads at any point she chooses... thus we are forced to play Fate's sick game, used as puppets by whatever higher being is watching our every move.
Thus Fate and Chaos intertwine and form something we all know as the uncertain future. Yet I will face it as boldly as a knight, charging on into the darkness with out hindrance or fear, knowing that a simple change in destiny's plan can either let me emerge victorious or let Death's cold hands tear my spirit out of my body before the end of the battle has come.
Either way, we shall fight on.
