In the distance, she first made out her target. Oswin had a head start on her, as well as being helped along by Ninian. Isadora was still a good distance away, though; she glanced around for the pale dancer before remembering that she had returned to Eliwood's side. The two were quite taken with each other, she solemnly realized. Once upon a time, she had loved like that. But her lover had accompanied Lord Elbert in his expedition. The knights were eradicated, much as she didn't want to admit that her beloved was no longer.
As she got closer, she readied her lance to prepare for the target. A hero with only a sword? Either this organization had poor supplies or this particular character was overconfident in his abilities. He was dueling with Oswin, but very gradually losing out; his style indicated that he was trying to use axe techniques, which only worked at times. The closer she got, the more disturbed she felt. He looked paler, even from behind, than the rest of the group they were fighting, almost as if he wasn't from the area. His armor wasn't top quality, like many of the others they had faced before. Rather, it seemed like something assigned to new soldiers. Either a powerful man joined late or he was consciously rebelling. Likely the latter. She peered forward to see if she could make out any other features, but his hair was so covered in snow that she couldn't decipher any color other than it being light.
Isadora shook her head. There was no use in trying to identify an enemy, no matter how many odd things about them she could find. With a surge of adrenaline, she brandished her lance and charged. With her lance out, it was only a matter of time before she felled this powerful opponent. She was almost certain she saw Oswin smile at the man's fate. She yelled no warcry; mere silence awaited him.
He turned to the side to see who else was coming his way, but it was too late. Her lance was deadly accurate; it impaled his side and his brown eyes went wide. Isadora kept a calm composure until she saw his face. A sharp gasp of air was all that could be heard, even over the raging storm.
"Isa..."
Harken didn't last long enough to finish her name. He fell onto his side, jerking the lance out of her hand and pulling it straight up into the air. Even with all her armor, she pulled herself off her horse and ran to his side. Mustering all the strength she could, she yanked out the lance and tossed it away.
"No! Harken! Harken, love!"
Surprisingly, he wasn't dead... at least, not yet. However much she hoped otherwise, he had no chance to survive a blow like that. He lifted one labored arm to her face, the wound in his arm proving that the lance had shattered bones and gone entirely through him.
"Isa...dora?" Even though he was about to die, he would at least die with a smile as he saw his lover again. His fingers touched her cheek for a brief moment as life escaped him and it fell into the snow.
She couldn't believe it. The knights weren't eradicated... at least, not until now. She killed him. She killed him. She kneeled next to his body and cradled it in her arms, praying desperately that he was simply unconscious. His heart wasn't beating, though, and she couldn't delude herself much longer. He was dead by her lance. Burying her face into his shoulder, she did the only thing she never showed him. She cried. She cried so much that she did not notice Oswin had applied a vulnerary to his wounds and left her alone with the corpse.
It wasn't much longer before she heard that the false bishop Kenneth had been taken care of. Taking care not to bruise the body, she tied Harken to her horse and began the slow trot back to camp.
That night, she heard many condolences for her loss. Lord Eliwood and Lady Lyndis offered her comfort, but nothing could ease her sorrows for her lover's life. Marcus and Lowen stopped by later, though neither had said much. She spared them her anguish by hiding Harken and his wounds under a sheet. Legault, that former Black Fang assassin, even came by to attempt to alleviate even some of the suffering. Eventually, she was left alone with Harken. Alone with the body, just as she was in the first place.
The next morning, Eliwood noticed that Isadora was not at breakfast. He attributed it to grief and allowed her to sleep in. He left her as long as he could before going to wake her.
That wouldn't be possible, though. As he walked into her tent, the stench of blood filled his nose. With horror, he saw the body of Harken exposed to the day. Worse still was Isadora's body facedown and draped next to him, her sword plunged through her heart, the blood long dry on the steel. The wound was not clean; she wanted to give herself a moment of life longer, just as she had given him. She died holding his body against hers in what she desperately tried to make a lovers' embrace.