On Epiphanies

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Fire Emblem – the Sword Demon would have been remade to be incomprehensibly awesome. These post-game events, however, I do own.

"speech"

thoughts / flashbacks / emphasis / etc.


Chapter 3: Distant Shadows


"Brother, it is time to rise.

"Brother, wake up."

"Nnggmph…no, Mother…five more minutes…"

Eirika frowned in puzzlement, and tried once more. "It's me, your sister Eirika. Wake up, brother…"

"Nng…I don't want cookies, sis…you always burn them…" he mumbled in response.

The blue-haired woman smiled at his incoherent grumbling, but still shook Ephraim gently. "Wake up, brother, or I'll tell Sister Natasha to burn your scrambled eggs."

Her twin brother shot up like one of Innes' arrows upon hearing this, and he shouted, "Don't you dare-! Oh, Eirika. My apologies, sister."

Eirika smiled again, and replied, "Good morning, brother."

Ephraim's shirt muffled his reply as he changed into his riding armor.


"Ahoy, Ephraim!"

The king of Renais looked up from his morning spear practice (the only way to truly remove his sleepiness) and nodded in acknowledgement to Joshua carrying a wooden practice sword. "Joshua, good morning. You enjoyed breakfast?"

The redhead chuckled. "Pity Natasha's a cleric, because she could get anybody with her culinary skills."

Ephraim nodded. The fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach…another point in favor of Eirika. Perhaps you are the one who will fall first, Joshua?

"You intend to win my sister over? She says you allowed for a six-month period in which she will confess your love for you, with the potential marriage at stake." He narrowed his cerulean eyes at the king of Jehanna. "Is this not undue pressure? I believe she still mourns the loss of Lyon, especially since…well…"

"…Yeah," Joshua agreed. He'd heard Lyon's confession, too (just barely; good thing his mercenary career sharpened his hearing) – and he'd seen how it shattered Eirika, to never have the chance to return his love. Not that Joshua knew much of romance – he was no avid fan of it outside its…benefits – but for crying out loud, she'd looked like she'd fall apart and start bawling right then and there.

"I'll give her whatever space she needs. You can do the comforting – seeing as how you're her twin brother and I'm just a friend and newly self-christened suitor."

Ephraim regarded Joshua with confusion. "If you're trying to woo her, shouldn't you be the one to be by her side?"

The redhead rakishly grinned and replied, "Nope. That's not how I do things. You're the man for the job, not me. Why should I try if you can do it better than me?

"Enough about that, though. You up to spar today?"

Ephraim countered with a feral grin and, "I feared you would never ask."


Loud clangs of wood awoke the maroon-haired Silver Knight of Renais. Seth rose and rubbed at the grit in his eyes, when a loud shout of, "Ephraim! Chill the fuck out, you're backing me – shit!" awoke him completely.

That, and the spear point that poked through the side of his tent, about six inches shy of puncturing his head.

Seth instantly shed his covers, jumped out of bed, and hurried to put on his boots before rushing out of his tent to see what was with the ruckus. King Ephraim and King Joshua were sparring, his liege lord wielding a common iron lance, and the desert king with a wooden sparring sword. The sight relaxed Seth visibly, and his hand strayed from his own blade.

"Ah, Seth. Apologies," Ephraim managed as he tried for a trio of stabs that Joshua parried before bringing the staff over his head to take a strong diagonal slash that the redhead jumped back from.

"It's all right, milord," Seth hastily replied. Searching for and settling on a nearby rock, the young general flopped onto it with a measure of calm anticipation. A fight between two as skilled as King Ephraim and King Joshua would surely be a great sight.

Ephraim started once more with a jab that Joshua sidestepped and parried. Ducking under the redhead's slash that raked across the shaft of the spear, he swung the other end, followed with a spin, and stabbed once more. Joshua parried this blow as well, and snatched the shaft before reaching back to swing at Ephraim. The aqua-haired man ducked under the slash, and sidestepped wide to avoid the stab Joshua used to recover. Releasing his grip on his weapon briefly, Ephraim launched a step-sidekick into Joshua's gut, and yanked his spear away from the swordsman's grasp. The desert king fell back onto his seat and rolled over once before stopping and rising to his feet in one motion.

"Where'd ya learn that unarmed fighting? Guess curricula are pretty thorough in Renais, too…"

"Disarming foes and recovering your own weapon were considered basics in the elite spear styles of Renais." Ephraim grinned. "Besides, you didn't believe for even one second that you could end the fight so quickly, did you?"

Joshua returned a rakish smirk of his own. "Heh…"


Eirika set the cup down and smiled brightly. "The tea is perfect, Sister Natasha. Thank you so much."

The nun opened her mouth to respond, but the loud clatter of horse hooves cut her off. Eirika, Natasha, Tana and Syrene (who had politely refused the tea and stood watch over the ladies) all spun their heads to see Kyle's steed carrying him past them at a not-so-leisurely pace.

"A battle?" the green-haired Pegasus knight inquired.

"Let's go see!" Tana countered, shooting out of her chair and following after the knight as fast as she could manage. The others took a more leisurely pace.

When they arrived, they saw Joshua parry and duck under another stab, following it with an uppercut slash. Ephraim shifted the shaft and parried the strike in response. Countering by releasing one hand from the hilt and holding a hand against the flat of the blade, Joshua stopped the shaft of Ephraim's spear, then slid his blade along the length of the spear and tried for a slash to bisect him top and bottom.

Fortunately, not only was the blade wooden and dull, Ephraim swung the butt of the spear around in an uppercut slash that Joshua parried, then brought the staff over his head for a slash (which the redhead ducked under) and a recovery stab (which he sidestepped and parried simultaneously). The two kings stopped long enough to claim breathing room, and shared a feral grin.

Eirika frowned tentatively – why was Joshua fighting Ephraim? "What are they doing?" she inquired of nobody.

"They are merely sparring, milady," Seth replied from his seat on a nearby boulder.

"Yes, but why?"

Seth shrugged. "If I may offer my opinion…"

"Please," Eirika replied.

"I believe that the two simply wish to test their strength against each other. They are both proud fighters and kings, and they wish to know their skill and how they fare against each other."

"And why would they want to do that?" continued the cerulean-haired queen.

"It is in the heart of all warriors."

The firm reply behind her caused Eirika to turn her head and face Marisa, who had approached the scene along with a few of the mercenaries in their company.

"Warriors live to test themselves. They want to know their power, their limits, so that they may surpass them. Warriors wish to know the full extent of their potential, and the best way to know and stretch one' limits is through challenges."

Eirika nodded absently and turned to face the sparring duo. Ephraim had spoken of the desire to fight before, and said that he was confused as to its origins. Was it because he was a man? Was it his training? Apparently, Joshua, Marisa, and many of the others in their company were also motivated to grow stronger – the lilac-haired swordmaster said all warriors felt this desire.

No – of course I would not have such a wish. I am no fighter. I want peace and happiness. …Is that how Ephraim finds happiness? Joshua, as well? They know that they fought to protect Magvel, their nations, and their companions. We all did. But…perhaps they simply desire to fight, as Marisa said? It certainly helped explain why Innes was so obsessed with outdoing Ephraim in the fields of war.

No, fearing that they might turn to savagery is foolish. They are better than that…. "Thank you, Marisa. I believe I understand men and their ways a little better now."


If there was anything Joshua hated more than a day of bad luck, it was fighting a spearman on Ephraim's level. On one level, it was fun. In other news, he could get kebabed pretty quickly.

Twisting out of the way of another thrust, he parried the second stab and quickly moved to close the distance. His slash was blocked, so he twisted his forearms and feigned a slash in the other direction, which Ephraim moved to parry with the butt of his spear. Rather than slash, however, Joshua brought the sword to waist level, clearing the haft of Ephraim's weapon and opening the window to stab.

Ephraim lowered the shaft of the spear to parry the stab, but the wooden tip poked into Ephraim's abdomen before he could catch him, and he grunted in response.

"That's three to four," Joshua announced. "C'mon, Ephraim. Don't you have the advantage here? I'm catching up – and I doubt you'll stand for that." The two circled, slowly increasing the distance between them, until four full meters were between them.

"Three to five," Ephraim corrected as they stepped away from each other. "Perhaps I came out too strong and spent too much energy." Grinning weakly, he continued, "I should have known better than to expect you to forfeit after losing four straight times."

"Hey, that's only three!" the redhead countered. "You backed me into Franz's horse! It kicked me in the back, and you got me right when I was down and screaming!" Gingerly rubbing the aforementioned sore spot, he cursed under his breath and continued, "That shouldn't count." Ephraim chuckled in response, along with several of the spectators.

"Well, enough of that. Let's keep going."

Joshua lowered his sword to his side, and put on a devilish grin before charging forward. Ephraim readied his spear to intercept, but Joshua stopped short two meters away and settled into a high slide stance, crossing his forearms and pointing his sword forward. With that, he grinned once more before vanishing.

Unseen Flash, was it? Vaguely remembering Duessel's lectures on the basic principles to all of Magvel's elite sword techniques (the only kind of lecture that he could comprehend in his youth), Ephraim closed his eyes, and focused on feeling shifts in wind, in space-

There! Wheeling around and stabbing, the king of Renais frowned upon seeing his spear pass through a blur. Damn! He dodged it- He glanced behind himself and jabbed the butt of his spear towards his blind spot, following with a swinging stab back forward and to his left. All of his strikes simply produced the sounds of empty air being penetrated, but Ephraim still kept his guard up. He caught another movement at the corner of his vision, and spun with a backfisted stab at his assailant.

Rather than vanish again, however, Joshua reappeared at Ephraim's feet, holding the wooden blade in a reverse grip and at the aqua-haired king's throat. Ephraim did not need to look to note that his stab had been high and late, and he clicked his teeth against his tongue in dismay.

"That's four even," the red-headed king noted, his smirk clearly audible. Rising from his crouch, he slapped on a rakish grin and walked backwards to restore the distance between them.

Ephraim frowned. "Does sparring warrant the use of a lesser secret technique?"

Joshua snorted. "Your studies musta been pretty thorough…and yeah, it probably does. It's a compliment, Ephraim," he chided, "because you're that good."

The spearman chuckled. "Why, thank you, Joshua." Readying his weapon once more, he waited for Joshua to finishing walking backwards. At five meters, the redhead stopped, and Ephraim called out, "This is the deciding duel, my friend!"

Joshua rolled his neck, sighing at the popping sounds, then stopped and replied, "Win or lose. Last chance." He lowered his sword to his waist, and charged forward.

Ephraim, in turn, leveled his spear's point at Joshua and sprinted to close the distance.

Ephraim's strike came at the maximum reach of his two-meter-long spear, a swift and furious stab at Joshua's midsection. The strike was probably lethal, but Joshua would definitely dodge it.

And he did just that, crouching so low and moving so fast he seemed to be gliding across the ground rather than running.

The clash passed in a mere flicker of time, their movements so fast that they kicked up arcs of dirt.

When the dust settled, Joshua was crouched, holding his sword inches short of his opponent's nether region, and Ephraim dangled a lock of red hair and a beat-up viridian hat on the end of his spear. The desert king grinned, until he saw Ephraim's smirk in return and noticed the absence of a familiar weight on his head.

His hand instantly flashed out towards the spear tip, and his hat reappeared atop his head. The entire company responded by bursting into laughter (Marisa merely snorted derisively).


His eyes instantly snapped open, and he quickly whirled his gaze left and right to take in his new surroundings. An endless black expanse surrounded him, but he somehow stood on thin air. Audhulma was strapped to his side, and he quickly addressed his first concern and drew his blade. When no one approached, he relaxed, but kept his weapon in hand.

A dream, he decided. He then decided to walk forward and find whatever awaited him in this dream.

After long minutes of strolling and finding nothing in the vast shadows, he finally saw figures in the distance. A dim gleam protruded from one of them-

A sword.

He sprinted forward, hoping to intercept the assailant before he attacked the other figure, who appeared to be unarmed. Damnit, what the hell is going on? Who are those people!

As he drew closer and closer, however, he recognized one of them.

Mother – and she's the unarmed one!

He quickened his pace…

but to no avail.

The other figure, still shrouded by darkness, cut a clean diagonal slash through Ismaire, and Joshua screamed in rage as he saw his mother fall. Actually seeing her being cut down – it was so much worse.

"You bastard! What the fuck is going on!"

The hooded man turned to face Joshua, and he spat the desert king with a red glow from his eyes. Instantly, Joshua found that he could no longer move, regardless of how he struggled.

Then the enigma vanished and reappeared, his back turned to Joshua, his sword in a backfisted grip in his right hand.

The king of Jehanna found that he could only watch as the glowing blade was plunged into his gut.

Biting back a scream, he instead grunted bloodily, coughing out the coppery liquid as he distinctly felt the sword protrude through his back.

"Who…who the hell are you?" he demanded in a rasp and hoarse voice.

The man did not respond.

"Ya know…it's kinda hard…to see anything… past the cloak…and the shadows…buddy," Joshua added.

With that, the figure reached for his own neck, undid the knot to his cloak (or so Joshua gathered – black spots were collecting in his vision, and the man's back was turned to him anyways), and cast it aside. Joshua's eyes widened at the spectacle, which was only made more menacing by a gust of wind that whipped up the untamed red hair of his assailant.

It was himself.

(When your ire is roused, I am with you,) said the less sane Joshua. Great. The bastard doesn't even talk normally – he has to be psychic.

(When you raise your sword, I am there.

(Offering…a gift.)

Joshua spat out more blood before mustering enough energy to smirk and haughtily counter, "Gift? Gifts are free…and you sure as hell…don't look like the…giveaway type…"

(Search yourself. You know I am right. You delight in battle. You live for war. With each foe you cut down, you only desire more. More enemies, stronger foes, worthy challengers…you cannot resist the taste of blood.

(Give in, and all that you desire is yours. All the power you need to claim all that you want. Your sword arm shall no know peer, and you will reign over all of Magvel.)

Joshua was briefly silent, collecting his thoughts to offer a decent riposte.

"I…mighta done that…back when…but…things have…changed!" After another wet fit of coughing, the Tempest King continued. "I live…to defend…my allies…I've got…a promise…to keep, damnit!" Joshua grimaced, noting with considerable displeasure that the pain in his gut was subsiding – along with his other sensations.

Somehow, though, that didn't stop his insane doppelganger's voice from ringing audibly in his ears. (So you say…but you know otherwise. You will not reject this power. You may act the fool, but you are not one, Joshua of Jehanna.)

"Heh…I'd never say…shit like that…" the feisty redhead countered. "Who are you…seriously?"

"Evil" Joshua chuckled blandly. I am what you fear…I am your future.

With that, he shoved Joshua off of his blade roughly. The redhead stood briefly, lingering in the air before plunging backwards, his sensations, the last vestiges of his life force-


Joshua's eyes snapped open once more, and a cold rush coursed throughout his body as he bolted upright, panting and sweating from his nightmare.

"Shit, holy shit, what the fuck was that!" he hissed aloud. He quickly stumbled out of his tent and raised the flap.

Oh yeah…I retired early. The sun was only beginning to set, and several members of the company were frolicking about in the dwindling sunlight.

"Tch." Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he went back inside to finish donning the rest of his clothes, knowing he wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

What the hell was that dream about? …Ah, well, I need some guidance, anyways. Let's go see Father Moulder…

Tugging his hat by the brim to eye level, Joshua walked out into the dawning twilight. He idly strolled by the soldiers and mercenaries gathered round the stray fires, who were trading stories and some evidently riotous jokes. Yawning and stretching as he walked, his gait was relaxed and easy, totally devoid of the kind of clear and focused intent, say, Ephraim might have walked with.

Just as he walked into eyeshot of the healer's tents, he saw something – or someone – very familiar. A blonde dressed in the teal robes of a Latonan Bishop.

Great…everyone's favorite priestess. Joshua put on a rakish grin and continued to saunter forward without changing pace.

"How's our favorite cleric been?" he casually inquired once he came within earshot.

Natasha started, but relaxed visibly and smiled upon seeing Joshua. "Um…yes, I have been well, Joshua."

The redhead grinned again. "Great. You remembered." She gave him a quizzical look, to which he replied with, "I don't like formalities."

"Ah…yes." Natasha grew silent once more, and a few awkward seconds passed.

"Well, if you don't need me, I've gotta get some divine guidance from ol' Father Moulder." Joshua canted his head and thumbed his hat as he passed, and continued on his way to the healer's tents.

"Joshua." He stopped in response, without turning around to face her.

"That day when we first met…that wager you made with me…do you remember?"

The redhead chuckled in response. "Course."

"If…if the coin had landed on heads…would you…would you have killed me?"

Joshua shut his eyes and sighed. Briefly considering how to answer her question, he rummaged through his pockets and pinched one of the coins that would help him do just that. Spinning on his heel and striding over to Natasha, he reached for her hand held to her chest. He ignored her startled gasp and blush, and pressed the coin into her palm. "Tell ya what – I'm a bit busy. That should answer your question." He turned around once more and walked off to the tents.

Her gaze trailed away from the desert king and to the coin in her hand. Tails… Grabbing it in her forefinger and thumb, she hesitantly raised it to the moonlight, and slowly turned it around.

The other side was tails, as well.

Her eyes widened, and she gasped softly. "Joshua…"


"Er…Father Moulder?"

Hm…is that King Joshua? …Well, my prayers were finished, anyways…. The aging priest rose to his feet and turned to face the mercenary king. "You called, Ki…Joshua?"

Joshua canted his head and idly noted, "Heh. Looks like you got word about me, huh?"

Moulder smiled underneath his thick moustache in response. "Even I can hear stray bits of gossip from the soldiers. A king who hated titles quite pleasantly surprised them, so I gathered."

The redhead chuckled in response. "Looks like I might have my popular support after all, no?"

"Did you expect otherwise?" the priest replied. "You are quite amiable, and many of our fighters have enjoyed great laughs and good times thanks to you. The peasantry would adore you…and I doubt you would have it any other way." Joshua chuckled again in response.

"But I sense that you have come to me for more than mere pleasantries. …What troubles you, Joshua?"

The king of Jehanna worked his jaw pensively for several moments. "I…I know that my duties as king of Jehanna are going to seriously complicate my life. I've been gone for ten years, and I've gotta make it up. I promised my mother to rule my nation and guide it well. …And I think I know how to do that." Moulder nodded, encouraging Joshua to continue.

"International relations got shot to hell – oh man, sorry, Father, I shouldn'ta-"

Moulder offered an understanding smile. "I have known many people from many walks of life. I have heard all manner of curses. If it helps you, speak as you please."

Joshua nodded. "Well, anyways, international relations were wrecked by Grado's surprise invasion, so I reasoned that the way to help reduce international tensions was to take a bride from the royalty of another nation. L'Arachel is out, Tana is…well, it didn't take much to deduce that she wasn't my type. …So that left Eirika."

"Hm," Moulder quietly noted. Several minutes passed in silence as the priest carefully considered what he was told and the swordmaster patiently waited for a response.

"You are unsure of how to approach Princess Eirika. You know the death of Prince Lyon has stricken her hard, and you want to give her space. And yet, you still wish to court her…am I correct?"

Joshua sighed grimly. "Somewhat…it's confusing, really." Moulder raised an eyebrow out of curiosity, but Joshua continued all the same.

"All the pieces are there. She's a princess, a real nice girl, beautiful, good with a sword…I couldn't wish for a better woman, I honestly couldn't. But…geez, I finally see the perfect prize and I start thinking that I shouldn't even bother. I mean…I used to be a fearless and shameless womanizer – what the hell's wrong with me?"

Moulder frowned. This can't be good. "What do you mean?"

Joshua remained silent for a good while longer, then hesitantly offered, "…Well, she's already got a support net, ya know? Ephraim, Tana – hell, even Seth and Saleh have known her in a personal manner longer than I have. She's already got a bunch of people to rely on, so it's like she doesn't even need me. Then there's Lyon's death, which she'll need time and space to get over. Not only is this just a horrible time to be trying to court her, it's as if her friends and her brother already fill any void there might be in her life. It makes me question if I should even be tryin' to go after her. I mean, she'll be happy without me, right? So what does she need me for?"

"…An old proverb from Latona comes to mind." Joshua canted his head at the bishop in response, and Moulder continued. "'Go where you do not seem to be necessary, and stay until you are indispensable.' You may not perceive yourself as vital to Eirika's life, but if you wish to woo her, perhaps you should simply stay by her side, and be a good friend. The majority of prosperous marriages I have seen blossomed from a deep friendship – perhaps you may follow suit."

Joshua fell silent at Moulder's advice. "…Yeah. I guess so. That makes sense…yeah. I could do that. Ya know what? I'll take back my wager with her for now, so she can get some space and sort out her feelings."

The senior bishop raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Wager?"

Joshua smiled dimly. "Heh…yeah. I bet her that if she didn't confess her love for me in six months, I'd revoke my right to seek her hand in marriage."

"…That seems to have been undue pressure on her." Moulder paused at length, pondering the implications of Joshua's wager briefly before adding, "You make a wise choice, I believe."

"Heh…I guess. Thanks, Father Moulder. I'll get outta your hair."

"I live to serve, young man. And I shall pray for success in all your matters."

"Huh…thanks," Joshua replied. He turned on his heel and pushed aside the fold of the tent on his way out.


"…Hya!" Eirika lashed out with another deep lunge and thrust, then immediately sidestepped and mimed a parry before stabbing into the air again.

"Every time we practice, your form gets even better, sister," Ephraim noted from his perch atop a rock. "Duessel tells me he has not seen a natural talent like yours in years, and I agree with him."

Eirika flushed red at her brother's praise. "I-I could not bear to see someone I know get hurt because I could not help them. I practiced whenever I could, and I still hope to, even after we return home. The war may be over, but I doubt the violence is." Ephraim nodded in assent.

Rising from his seat, Ephraim said, "That should be it for today, Eirika. It's getting too dark to continue, so we should retire."

"Yo."

The twins flinched in surprise, but looked up at the armory tent's entrance to see Joshua hanging upside-down off the support strut by his legs, a simple metal sword in hand.

"Ah, Joshua…I doubt hanging on the pole like that is good for the tent. If it falls on you…" Ephraim trailed off.

"Tch. Fine, worrywart," the redhead countered. Snapping his legs straight, he landed and handsprung up with practiced ease.

"Isn't it late to start practicing?" Eirika idly inquired. "It's dusk right now…"

"Meh. I went to sleep the moment we set up camp, so I need to burn some energy if I want to get a good night's rest on top of that nap." Joshua shrugged nonchalantly. "I'll just swing a sword around 'til I get tired."

"Well…in that case, good night, Joshua," the king of Renais replied. He turned and started walking towards his tent, but paused when he sensed that Eirika had not immediately followed him. "Is something wrong, sister?"

"…" She was briefly silent, and eventually replied with, "Go on ahead, Ephraim."

He crooked an eyebrow in response, but shrugged and continued on without a word.

Joshua smirked mischievously. "Oh…wanted some time alone with me?" He chuckled at Eirika's bemused smile, and began to idly twirl his sword. "Ya need to say somethin'?" Eirika did not respond for some time, so Joshua interrupted the silence with, "Well, I actually needed to tell ya somethin', too."

"Hm?" Eirika slowly walked closer to Joshua, and stopped a few inches in front of him.

"…I…I'm gonna rescind our wager. For now, I mean."

"What?" Confusion rang clearly in her voice. "Why? Don't you need to…?"

"Yeah…I thought about it…and I realized that whatcha really need right now is space. I figured that after Lyon, you might not be very happy about dealing with romance, so…"

Eirika frowned in response. "Well…I hadn't thought of it like that…. I appreciate your offer to give me room, but…I should not dwell on the past like that. …Lyon would not want me to do such things, I think. …No, I know. I know he wouldn't want me to wallow in my sorrows. He would want me to move on, to bring prosperity to Magvel and to find happiness."

Joshua offered another comprehending smirk. "Heh…you two really are alike." Eirika looked at him quizzically, and he replied, "Ephraim said the same thing. And you're both right. Mourning is good and all, but it's good that neither of you are stuck on the past."

The blue-haired queen paused briefly. "…Well, what about you? Your mother died right in your arms…your mother…but I did not see you grieve much. Do you see things that way?"

"…" The mirth vanished from Joshua's face, and he blinked slowly before eventually replying, "I've gotten used to seeing friends die. And my mother's gone because I wasn't there. It's my fault she's dead, so it's my job to make it up to her and to the nation she ruled…the nation I'm gonna rule…by doing the best I can. This is my new job – I don't have time to waste on grief, do I?"

Eirika fell silent, and considered his words carefully as Joshua started practicing some advanced swordplay forms. She watched as he spun his sword furiously, wove through complex slash combinations, and even switched hands behind his back as he sliced invisible foes by the dozen – all while staying in the same area.

"…Doesn't it hurt? Didn't your mother's death hurt? …I always see you being so cheery and friendly, ready to tease, to make us laugh and smile, but you never seem willing to involve us in your problems. …That's what you did after your mother died…"


"Joshua…" the queen of Jehanna weakly whispered. She slowly raised a hand to touch her son's face, softly breathing, "My dear…sweet, child…." With that, Ismaire breathed her last, and surrendered to the darkness.

Joshua shut his eyes forcefully, fighting the stinging sensation in the back of his eyes as he choked on sobs and struggled to retain his tears. "Mother…" he murmured breathlessly. His jaw and fist tightened, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stem the tears.

A grim silence fell over all else who were present. Gerik pulled off his headband and bowed his head in respect (as did Innes), L'Arachel knelt to whisper a quick prayer for the late queen's soul, and Saleh followed suit in his own manner.

Eirika swallowed nervously, then stepped forward towards Joshua when he interrupted the tense silence with a soft command. "Everyone…go. Get out. Leave me alone."

Eirika blinked, startled by his demand. Her eyes hardened with determination, and she stepped forward again when a hand on her shoulder interrupted her. She spun and faced the source of the hand with some confusion. "Master Saleh…"

"…Princess. I would suggest that we do as he says," the light-haired sage admonished. "Let him grieve on his own terms." Having offered his own curt advice, he left the room.

Eirika turned to Joshua, and tried one more time. "But…"

"Just go," Joshua repeated more forcefully, his voice marred by sorrow.

The princess of Renais gave the redhead one more despairing glance, but he never looked up. Nodding once, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving Joshua, the itinerant prince of a broken nation, to grieve in solitude.


Joshua worked his jaw briefly. "…Secrets I couldn't give away. Things I had to come to terms to on my own. I couldn't have done what I did if I wasn't alone. Sorry, but that's just how it was, Eirika."

She grew silent, unable to immediately produce a response.

"Heh…don't worry, though. If I need help in the future, I'll be sure to get at least one of you guys to gimme a hand, ah? Whole is greater than the sum and all that."

Eirika smiled warmly. "That…that is good. Please, Joshua – don't hold us at arm's length. We'll be here for you."

Joshua replied with a wan grin. "Hn…well, you'd better get going. Get some sleep. I'm gonna practice some more before I turn in. G'night, Eirika."

"Mm…good night, Joshua." She turned and left Joshua to his own devices, this time with a halcyon smile.


I hate:

- Writer's block.

I love:

Dane Cook

Path of Radiance

Super Smash Bros. Melee

Resident Evil 4 (though I only rented it)

Get the picture? And Pulp Fiction kicks ass – it is a Tarantino movie, after all. If you can't handle gore, however…

Obviously, Ephraim didn't enjoy needing to kill Lyon, which was the idea I was trying to get across. Angst is defined as uneasiness or misgivings, of which Ephraim never has any. That, however, doesn't mean that his actions didn't hurt him on a personal level. That was the point of that small section about Ephraim's thoughts on killing Lyon – the choice was necessary, but it sure wasn't pleasant.

In retrospect, I may not have done those flashbacks quite how I envisioned them, especially since I have seen some extremely badass swordplay in DMC3 (and I plan to buy SE over spring break in order to play as Vergil, who kicks serious ass). Watch for notices concerning a redo.