The snows of winter persisted as he lay in wait. Even as low in the mountains as it was, this snow would remain deep for months to come.
Felix drummed his fingers on the pommel of his sword as it lay across his lap, nervous. A new feeling, to be sure. Even at Garreg Mach, he hadn't felt like this. No, this was unfamiliar.
Perhaps it was because Sylvain didn't know he was here. Or perhaps it was the world feeling as if it was on the edge of something, as the Alliance was making preparations for an assault on Myrddin. Whatever it was, the whole world held its breath like he did.
Snow sloughed off the pine tree's branch, the weight too cumbersome to hold any longer. But he didn't jump at the noise. His quarry was nothing if not punctual. By his estimation, he would not appear for five more minutes.
Felix clenched his fist, flexing his fingers in the cold. In, out. In, out. What he was about to do was treason. Lèse-majesté of the highest variety.
Dimitri would not be king at the cost of his husband. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Then, he heard it. The hooves of horses, amidst quiet conversation. Felix crouched further, lowering his head beneath the snow. With a practiced hand, he brushed more snow over his head. Now, all relied on his hearing.
Duke Fraldarius, his father, approached. He and his five guards were on horseback, per the plans Felix had helped create. A token guard, small enough to go unnoticed. Except while they planned for Rowe intervention, they hadn't for his.
The sun had set, leaving the aurora in the sky to be the only illumination on the mountain. Far from enough light to notice his hiding place.
He listened, intently. The group bisected, passing around the tree, while Rodrigue could be heard speaking to his guards. Dimitri's name passed over his lips, as did Sylvain's. Felix bit back a growl. A horse passed by him, inches from his spot. Then, another. In all practicality, he was surrounded.
Perfect.
He leapt up like a spring, breaking the cover of white. The horse noticed him first and cried out. Felix grabbed the straps of the saddle and used them to bury his sword in the man's weak point of armor, blade piercing up so far it would clip arteries. He screamed.
To their credit, Rodrigue's people were skilled enough to not falter. They had their weapons in hand without flinching, but it was still plenty enough time for Felix to spin and nearly sever the leg from the rider behind his first victim. Another scream, silence by a second strike to the throat, the weak point of the expeditionary gear.
"Felix!" roared Rodrigue. His three remaining soldiers dismounted, the narrow passage rendering their mounted advantage nil.
He grinned, the thrill of contest taking him. The first approached, holding his blade close, defensive. Felix acted, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at the man. He flinched, and paid for it. He swept his foot out, hidden beneath snow, and tripped him. A simple spin of the sword, then plunged down, turned the snow red as the man died.
"Who's next?" Felix challenged.
The remaining two attacked at once, pressing their advance. Felix batted the first blade away with his leather gauntlet, and intercepted the second with his blade. He kicked at the woman, right at the knee. To her credit, she stayed standing, and held her blade locked with his. In her eyes, it was a contest of time until her partner recovered.
And he did, quickly. The man stabbed forward, aiming for his thigh to immobilize him. His mercy would cost him as Felix broke away from the clash of steel, spinning to grab the man's hand as he committed too far. With all too much ease, he pressed the pressure point in the man's hand. The sword fell, and Felix's buried itself in his throat.
"No!" shrieked the woman. He'd been important to her, no doubt. Felix would feel guilt later, but not now. Her emotion made her careless, and with anger swung.
She missed and he cleaved her arm off. She began to fall and he caught her, slitting her throat as he did. A small mercy.
And so stood father and son. The duke had dismounted, slower than the rest in his age. In his hands, a silver sword, and the Aegis, Relic of their house.
"What the hell are you doing, Felix?" Rodrigue yelled.
"Saving my husband," Felix snarled. "Or what, you thought I wouldn't object to you proposing his assassination?"
"As a last resort!" Rodrigue protested.
"Disgusting. That you would even think of such a thing speaks of how you have no place in Faerghus." Felix brought his sword up, ready to attack.
"Son!" Rodrigue growled. "You would back that whore before your own king? Your king! Dimitri is the rightful ruler of this nation."
"That whore is my husband," Felix snapped. "And I support him, for he is my family."
"I am your family!"
"No longer." Felix shook his head. "You're a traitor, and nothing more."
"Hypocrisy! Sophistry!" Rodrigue shouted.
Felix said nothing, bending his knees for the coming fight.
Rodrigue hefted the Aegis, and walked forward. His sword hovered to the side of it, ready to strike. The old man was called the 'Shield of Faerghus' for his stalwart defense, and they both knew it. In a protracted battle, Felix would lose.
So quick it would be.
He lunged forward, aiming low. Rodrigue moved the shield ever so slightly, blocking the tip of Felix's sword. His father swung at him, missing as Felix dove to the side into the snow. Swearing, he stood, taking a stance again.
Rodrigue glowered at him. "You were a terrible son."
It shouldn't have hurt, it shouldn't have broken past his cold exterior. But it did. Felix froze, hearing what he'd known his father thought for years finally aloud.
It was a distraction, one Felix barely managed to evade. His sword blocked the strike, but did nothing against the bash of the shield that hit him from the side. Disoriented, Felix stumbled back, and Rodrigue pressed harder. The Aegis crashed against his face, breaking his nose. He fell onto his back.
"Glenn should have survived, not you," Rodrigue spat, looking unimpressed. "Not even in your last moments could you be worth a damn."
"Certainly you're an admirable father," Felix said, speaking through blood.
"Forgive me if my son's attempt on my life does not leave me with a good image of him," Rodrigue said.
"Thought a parent was supposed to love their child regardless?" Felix said, feeling the pommel of his sword still in his hand.
"So did I," Rodrigue muttered, brandishing his blade. He stepped forward and plunged his blade down.
Felix whipped his own sword up, knocking the attack off just enough that it landed next to his cheek, burying into the ground. He reached up and grabbed the hilt, using it as leverage to pull himself up.
Rodrigue recoiled instinctively, and Felix capitalized on it. He rained blow after blow, all deflected by the Aegis. He gained ground, keeping Rodrigue backpedaling until he had his back up against the tree Felix had waited beside.
As Rodrigue blocked another attack, Felix kicked him in the stomach. With the tree behind him, his boot broke ribs. Rodrigue grunted in pain, his guard finally lowering. Felix snuck his blade between his defense and scored a blow on his hand.
The Relic slipped from his fingers. Felix punched his father in the face. He stumbled to the ground, the bark broken from where the back of his head hit.
"You were a terrible father," Felix growled.
"Boy," Rodrigue croaked. "You—"
The sword buried in his eye. There would be no last words for him.
As the heat of adrenalin calmed, Felix stumbled back and fell into the snow. He breathed, heavily, and reached up to his nose, feeling it. Ginger fingers and grit teeth, he set it back into place. Hissing in pain, he grabbed the vulnerary from his waist. Popping the cap, he dumped it on his face.
The cold liquid was solace as he stared at the aurora above, like a baptism. Here he lay, finally shedding the burden that was his father.
And in that moment, one that would haunt him for years, relief. Joy. His father was dead, and he'd done it.
Patricide, his mind whispered to him.
Killing his father was not the sin he'd hold himself to. No, it was the jubilance of the act. The sheer and utter enjoyment he took in the man's demise.
For a time, he lingered. Waiting, as if the heavens would fall upon him at the sight of such a sin. But the world continued ever onward, the quiet as much a comfort as a damning scream.
Standing, he collected the Aegis and his sword. The Relic would need to be hidden, tucked away. After all, bandits had killed his father and no doubt stole such a valuable. Perhaps it was lost to time, now.
Or maybe he'd come back and get it, he considered, as he tucked it into the pine tree's hollow.
One of the horses hadn't bolted in the conflict. He brushed a hand over its mane, reassuring it, before mounting. He had a long road to Derdriu.
Taking one last look at his father's corpse before turning, he departed a new, if burdened, man. His expression was hard, face knit together in a frown, as his next path began.
Grinning ear to ear, Felix embraced the woman he called sister.
"Leonie, you are the last person I expected to run into out here," he said, holding her tight. If anyone asked after, he'd deny such a blatant display of affection. But in the moment, his heart sang.
"And I, you," she said, a smirk of her own, pulling back and resting a hand on his elbow. "By the Goddess, we thought you were tied up in Faerghus."
"News is slow to travel," Ashe said, stepping up with a soft smile. "Our war is over, so we've come to help you root out the problem."
Leonie had him tangled in a hug, something he hadn't seemed to expect. Nevertheless, he returned the embrace with laughter. "My, I don't remember you this jubilant."
"And I don't remember you this tall," she fired back with levity. He laughed anew at that one. "And Ingrid!"
None were spared the tempest of Leonie's affection. Ingrid's protests were smothered.
It was Felix who finally called it out. "Some occasion we're not privy to?"
She blushed. "Well, we didn't know if you were all even alive. News stopped coming out of Faerghus after Derdriu, so I worried."
Felix looked away, his usual evasion to emotion coming back to him. Instead of confronting it, he changed the topic. "So, who's this?"
An apt question, all in all. For on the quiet city streets of Hevring, Leonie and Brutus had run into the three Faerghan volunteers. A chance of fate, but a welcome one. Felix sized up Hevring's heir, the patchy bearded child he was.
"Brutus von Hevring," he introduced himself as, extending a hand to shake. Felix took it, accidentally crushing his hand. The boy glared at him, while Felix was confused. It wasn't that he was strong, it was that the other was weak.
"Charmed," Felix said. "Felix, the others are Ashe and Ingrid. We're the leaders of the Faerghan advance party."
"I think he means General Ashe, Lady Ingrid, and Royal Consort Felix," Ashe said, rolling his eyes. Brutus audibly gasped, understanding his company better.
Felix grunted. "You will never call me that."
Ashe chuckled. "Is that an order, your majesty?"
He grunted again, and didn't dignify that with a response.
Ingrid stepped up to be the proper adult. "We've got just under five hundred of the best Faerghus has to offer. I don't know Hevring, but we trust you, Leonie. What's the situation here?"
"A city occupied, though there aren't many imperials here." Leonie gestured for them to follow her into a nearby alley as she continued. "The Death Knight took almost everyone he could back to the capital. It's a skeleton crew, no matter how you look at it. Lord Hevring is imprisoned, as his son here leads the resistance against them."
Felix turned towards Brutus. "Do you have a way into the castle? Most armies can withstand the death of leadership, if properly trained. If it's as disparate as you say…"
Brutus cowed under his gaze. "W-well, we have a way, but never the people—"
"And now we do." Felix turned to Ingrid. "Fly back, tell the volunteers we're preparing for battle. I want them ready under an hour. Tell them it's time to make the Empire pay."
Ingrid smiled, a rare feat these days. "With pleasure." She turned and walked away, going to where they had hidden her pegasus.
"Ashe," he continued. "I'll accompany Leonie and Hevring back to their base. Get the location of the vulnerability from Hevring, then go scout it out. Rendezvous with Ingrid and plan an assault. I'll meet you when you arrive."
"Of course," Ashe said, turning to Brutus.
Brutus stared at Felix, suitably intimidated, before beginning to explain to Ashe what he needed to know.
"You've changed," Leonie said, looking pleased.
He huffed, looking away. "I'm as I always was."
"Sure," she said, not believing him. "Regardless, you seem better. Less haunted. Take it from someone who knows."
"I… Thanks, Leonie," was all he could muster.
"So," Ferdinand began, "mind explaining to me what the hell is going on?"
Murphy glanced at her half-brother as they rested in an alley. Cleo's warping spell had dropped them decently close to Castle Aegir, but it was still some distance away. Distance that needed to be covered without alerting Cornelia's defenses.
"You'll need to be more specific," she said, shrugging.
"What was that? Back there," he said.
She took off her glasses and cleaned them on her dirty shirt. It didn't really help. "Cornelia. She's taken up residence here. Before, it was a normal occupation. Now, people are being hunted for experiments."
"Shit," Ferdinand muttered. "Just like Hrym."
Disinterested, Murphy shrugged. "Just the way it is. Mother's been trying to keep things together, but not much we can do."
"How did she and my—our—father…" he asked, not really sure how to end the question. It'd clearly been on his mind for a while.
"Fuck, we doing this now?" Murphy groaned. She sat down. "Fine, but sit, I ain't doing this while you're standing there all antsy." He did as he was told, paying close attention to her.
Where the hell did she begin with this? "Mother was Aegir's mistress. Dunno the details, but here I am."
When she didin't say more, Ferdinand frowned. "That's it?"
"What, you wanted a novel? A monologue?" Murphy said.
"I want to get to know my sister," he countered.
She shifted, uncomfortably. "Look, I ain't exactly fond of our father. He never treated mother well. And, to be honest, I don't know you. I'm not gonna spill my heart to a brother I've never met."
They were both quiet for a while until Ferdinand softly said, "I never knew you existed. Father kept you from me. I learned about two months ago, when we raided Hrym."
"You never knew?" she asked, confused.
"My father would never suffer a scandal," Ferdinand chuckled sadly. "I always told him I wanted a sibling, yet never did he mention you."
"Huh. Well, doesn't change anything," Murphy said, an undercurrent of emotion flecking her voice.
"I suppose not. But, if you'd let me, I'd like to get to know you." Ferdinand looked at her with the kindest eyes she'd ever seen outside of her mother's.
Don't give in, urged the survivor in her. "We'll see," she eventually said. "I don't know a thing about you."
"I am Ferdinand von Aegir," he immediately said, "and formerly of the Empire. I am an Alliance man now, a right hand to Duke Riegan. He's a friend and a brother to me. I love to ride on horseback, read poetry, and sing. This lance on my back is a gift from the Church, a promise to solve what problems plague Aegir. I'm in love with a man named Lorenz, who is waiting my return from here. I am—"
"Jeez!" Murphy said, stopping him. "How the hell are you so blunt with all this?"
"Experience?" he asked, not seeming to know the answer himself. "I learned at Garreg Mach that to make close friends, you had to trust them. If you aren't wanting me to be your brother, then I was hoping we could at least be friends."
"You—! Just how can—? Ah!" Murphy growled. "Dammit, you were easy to despise when you weren't this damn endearing."
Despite what was probably something of an insult, Ferdinand grinned. "I think you'd get along well with Lorenz."
"Shut it," she muttered, pushing her glasses up and looking away. "So, uh, how was Garreg Mach?"
He looked at her, curious. "Big question for someone who despises me."
Murphy huffed. "Okay, fine, it's anger at the circumstances. Fuck, you and mother are like peas in a goddessdamn pod. 'He's your brother, Murph, don't hate him just because you hate Ambrose!' Ugh."
Ferdinand grinned—bastard—and said, "Garreg Mach was wonderful. The best year of my life. I met the people I call family there."
"Sounds nice." She'd always wanted to go.
"Well, the Alliance is poised to end this war. You could go after it, if you wanted."
Bastard. "Never said I wanted to," she denied.
He raised an eyebrow, but didn't challenge her or the openly yearning expression she wore. "Okay, okay."
"Enough of this heart to heart, or whatever," she said, growing uncomfortable. "We need to see where mother ended up."
His expression switched from relaxed to determined. "This laboratory, where is it?"
"Just outside the castle. We'll regroup with them there, and then figure out what to do." Murphy didn't look at her brother. "And, Ferd, after this…maybe we can talk about being friends."
He smiled, beautiful as a sunset. "I'd like that."
Her sister had a killer left hook for a noble.
Cleo stumbled back, still shaking off the effects of the warp spell. She reached up, touching the trickle of blood that began to fall from her cheek where a ring had dug in.
"I was going to marry her," Constance breathed, glaring at her sister. "And you left her to die!"
They were the only two in the alley, Hapi nowhere in sight. It wasn't for lack of trying on Cleo's part, but she could not touch the woman with what ever malady had come over her.
"Sister, listen—" Cleo tried before being cut off.
Constance stalked up to her and jammed a finger in her face. "No, you listen! That girl has been left behind so many times, and you have done it again! I planned to give up my name for her, our name! I was astounded to see you alive, but now? I wish I hadn't seen you again."
In Cleo's elder opinion as a sibling, Constance had been a brat when growing up. An entitled, selfish, abrasive brat.
She'd grown up.
"I saved who I could," Cleo said, trying to keep calm in hopes it would reign in Constance's anger. The city was still dangerous. "Believe me, I tried."
"Do you know that voice? The one who spoke before you spirited us away?" Constance whispered, voice dead quiet.
"Cornelia," Cleo said.
"Cornelia," Constance repeated. "Hapi was her pet project experiment. And you let her take her."
"I didn't know! You cannot blame me for that which I was not aware!" Cleo snapped, losing her cool.
"Don't hide behind ignorance! The deed is done, and the woman I love might be dead or worse now," Constance lashed back, making Cleo flinch.
Her sister stepped back and shook her head. "I don't care what you do. I'm going to rescue her."
"Constance, you can't just run off—"
Wind blew around them, pushing Cleo back against the wall of the alley. Constance glared at her. "I will tear the city apart for her. Help, or don't. I don't care."
Treading thin ice, Cleo cleared her throat. "Look, I'm not telling you to back down, I'm just wanting you to be smart about it. Rendezvous with Murph and your friend. Let's do this together."
Constance stared at her for a long time, before the wind ceased. Cleo felt her feet fall back to the ground, the air no longer holding her up. "Fine," she muttered. "Don't get in my way." She turned heel, and began to walk off in the direction of the castle.
Cleo bit her lip, and followed. She let the ice that had been gathering in her hand subtly dissipate. She breathed.
Grown up, but perhaps not in the best of ways.
Hubert threw an unconscious, but alive, Hanneman to the ground before her in the throne room. "Caught this traitor aiding a few of our escapees."
Edelgard paused in her conversation with Jeritza. She turned her attention to Hubert while her friend folded his arms, bothered.
"Escapees?" she asked, stooping down to look at Hanneman.
"One of each of ours," Hubert said. "The Shrike, and your Lysithea."
Edelgard froze. Lysithea, here? No, no. That couldn't happen. She wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to be gone elsewhere, safe!
But here she was, with Petra. The latter surely carried a death wish for the Emperor, and if her wife was in her company willingly? Goddess.
And if unwillingly…
Edelgard felt trapped.
Jeritza came to her rescue. "Thank you, Hubert. That will be all."
He rounded on him. "I don't take orders from you, Bartels."
The fallen son of House Bartels glared at the name and took a menacing step forward. "That name is dead."
"Perhaps you should have died with it," Hubert growled.
"Enough!" Edelgard yelled. She stood, still looking down at Hanneman. "Hubert, down," she commanded, like he were a common mutt.
He obeyed, but knew a slight when he heard one. "My lady, I apologize. I can't help but worry that you ignore my counsel in favor of this…miscreant." It hadn't been the word he wanted to say, and they all knew it.
"I trust him, as I trust you," Edelgard snapped. Did she? Or was it just an easy lie on her lips? More manipulations for her list of sins, but with the end so close, she stopped caring.
"Then I must ask, as someone you trust, why I have been relegated to the defense of the city? I should be at your side, preparing to fight at your behest. Not micromanaging soldiers." Venom dripped from his tone, the most he'd ever levied at her.
And he was right to. He was always so damn good at being right. Hubert knew her too well, and for a long time it had been a boon. Now, it bit the hand that fed.
When she said nothing, he continued. "You plan something that you know I would object to, do you not?"
Again, she said nothing. He glowered, and said the most insubordinate thing she'd ever heard from his mouth: "Then do not pretend that you trust me. Do not dress up such a thing. Say what you mean, or say nothing again."
Right, again. She hadn't trusted him, not fully.
Not since Linhardt.
"You have your orders," she said. It was all she could.
His eyes burned, knowing all too well what this meant. Hubert snarled, and picked up Hanneman by the collar. "I need this traitor for dealing with the Shrike and your wife."
Oh, she wanted to speak up at that, wanted to stop him. Stay away from our friends, she nearly cried. Except that would be a lie on multiple fronts.
They weren't her friends, nor were they ever Hubert's. He did this to get back at her, revenge in his own dedicated way. Everything fell apart in front of her, and she let him walk away.
Lysithea…Petra…I cannot face you, she thought. I'm weaker than I feared.
Her two problems would be pitted against each other, and only one would come out on top.
As Hubert exited, Jeritza frowned. "I told you his love for you would become a burden if you did not address it."
And he was right. Fuck, she'd had enough of men always being right in her life. "I'll be dead in a week. I don't care any longer."
Jeritza backed off, nodding. "Of course. I…" He stopped, catching himself.
Edelgard sighed. "Say it."
"If you wish, I could deal with him. I know you care about Lysithea, and Petra. I could kill him, and none would be the wiser."
How tempting it was. Such a cruel twist of fate that to save the people she cared for, it would doom her to death at the hands of Petra. For if there were no Hubert, none would stand in their way to her.
"No. I'm past the time of personal wants. Our goal is Myson's death, no others," Edelgard said.
Damn her to the Eternal Flames. Let her burn for all time if that's what she deserved. She would not fight it.
Petra ripped off part of her sleeveless black top, pushing it under the tiny pile of wood. With a quick prayer to the Flame Spirit, she set to work on the flint and steel.
Lysithea was shivering, and the cold of the forest outside the city's walls wasn't helping. Between the stressing getting cured put on her, the lack of oxygen, and swimming through icy water, Petra wasn't all surprised a fever had struck.
The fire took, and Petra helped Lysithea move closer to the fire. She wasn't very focused, but followed along with the woman's guidance. It wasn't much, but it was something.
A stolen cloak wrapped around Lysithea's shoulders, the best Petra could manage for her. The night air and the damp clothes were a painful sentence.
"We should get you out of those," Petra said. "You will be having—you'll freeze."
"I can…" Lysithea slurred, blinking blearily.
The fire began to sputter out. Petra swore, turning to Lysithea. "Okay, Lys, got a favor to ask you. Think you can cast? Just need one spell through this." She pressed Thyrsus into her hands, having retrieved it from her belongings.
Lysithea had carried around a weapon like that, and never shown it. Petra could have been dead anytime at her hand.
"I…" Lysithea murmured, grasping the hilt of the wand. Waving it slowly, the fire crackled back to life, stronger than before. Petra left her there, gathering wood to shield it from the wind and fuel the blaze.
"Why?" Lysithea eventually managed, staring at her. "Why help so much?"
"You need a friend," Petra said, blunt. Damn her for whatever may come, but this was the right thing to do.
Perhaps if she were well, she'd have pushed further. But instead, she said, "Thank you."
"I don't deserve thanks," Petra whispered, but Lysithea was already asleep.
"Hey."
Hands gentle shook him awake. Seteth opened his eyes and stifled a yawn. "What time is it?"
Anna glanced at the entrance to the tent. "Dark. Well past dusk, though I haven't thought to keep track."
Seteth looked down at his desk, to the speech he'd been trying to write. The handwriting was messy, as five years using his off-hand hadn't compared to a lifetime of penmanship with his other. It was discouraging, but such was life.
The speech itself, words he'd planned to say to the Coalition soldiers before the battle after dawn. They needed work. Lots of work. Speaking such was never his forte, and this time he'd thought to try preparing.
But exhaustion had other plans.
"You okay?" Anna asked, and he became aware a minute had passed.
"I think so," he admitted. "Well enough. Nerves."
"Wanna talk about it?" she asked. Sothis, she was gentle with him. He'd seen the way she acted around others, and things were different between them. Better, between them. It made him feel something he hadn't in a very long while.
"I'm used to being on the front lines. Our last conflicts, it was odd to sit out. And this one, this grand finale, it feels even more strange."
"Bad strange?" she asked, sitting on his desk. He didn't mind.
"I don't know. Living for so long, the warrior in me doesn't want to pass quietly." He chuckled. "I never thought of myself so battle hungry, but now without the means, I find that I miss it."
"Miss fighting?" Anna asked, quizzically.
"Miss standing by my comrades. Miss helping. Miss saving lives." Seteth could have continued, but he sighed. "I know what I do now is important, but I am a man of action."
She put a finger under his chin and turned his head towards her. "Seteth, what you do is important. You're Archbishop."
"Rhea was always more charismatic than me," he protested. "I'm just an old man who is too rigid."
"I happen to think you're rather charming," Anna admitted.
He snorted. "And whatever gave you that idea?"
She saw the opportunity, and took it. Heavens and hells be damned, she was tired of how oblivious this man was.
"Well, you made me want to do this," Anna said, leaning forward and kissing him.
"Feels strange, you know?" Hilda murmured, breaking the silence of the tent.
"What does?" Marianne said, half paying attention as she continued to run her wife through exercises, figuring out where the damage done to her started and ended. She had a piece of paper tucked under her arm where she had notes for rehabilitation. It'd be the battle to fight after the war, one they were both ready for.
"The end of it all. After this, we all go our separate ways, right?" Hilda said.
Marianne blinked, focusing on her wife. "You're sad about that, aren't you?"
"Well," Hilda said, grabbing the glass of water and holding it amidst tremors. "I'll be really glad to see this war done. Five years is…a long time. But I won't lie, I'll miss everyone here."
Plucking the glass from her hand, Marianne looped their fingers together. "It's not final, dearest. Family sticks together, no matter the distance."
Hilda smiled and shifted in her bed. Marianne crawled beneath the covers and held her. "Guess I'm just gonna miss being able to walk over and annoy Claude, or anyone else."
"Trust me, Claude won't let you leave his side. You're too useful to him," Marianne teased.
"Useful, huh," Hilda said, not replying in kind like Marianne expected. "Guess I am."
"You are," Marianne said. "We all know it."
"I couldn't fool anyone," Hilda lamented with laughter. "The days of laziness are gone."
"I don't know if anyone ever really bought it," Marianne said. "You care too much to let other people do other things."
"Not true! I was going to let you put all those books away in the library by yourself!" Hilda protested. Old habits died hard.
"But you came and helped me clean up after making a mess. That was my mess, you didn't need to do that."
"Yeah, but you're my wife."
"I wasn't then," Marianne giggled.
"Nah, I was gonna wife you the moment I laid eyes on you," Hilda grinned, snuggling into her shoulder more.
Marianne laughed. "Each day, I fall more in love with you."
"Good, cuz it'd be awkward if it was only me doing so."
Shared laughter, laying a calm over them like a blanket. It was warm, comforting, before the approaching end.
"What do you want to do?" Hilda asked. "After this all, I mean."
A big and ominous question. For a long time, Marianne never could have come up with an answer. Now, things were different.
"Alister is dead. I am Margrave Edmund, now. For the first time, I feel up to the role. I'm sure there were others he hurt, and I want to help heal those wounds." It was the first time she'd uttered the words, and now they felt real. "And you?"
"Where you go, I go," Hilda said, reciting their wedding vows. "I meant it then, I do now."
"You've a title too, though."
"Nah, that's Holst's. Politics doesn't suit me. Might take a leaf out of Raph's book, play merchant. Always wanted to sell jewelry. Or clothes. Or just, anything, really. Feels like it'd suit me better."
Marianne could see it.
Years in the future, Marianne plays subject for Hilda's jewelry. Earrings, broaches, hairclips, rings, all and more on her and cycling in, out. Hilda bites her lip as she writes notes down on a scrap of paper already littered with various notes that Marianne could never read in their hurriedness.
Hilda looks up at her, seeing her staring. She asks after it, and Marianne leans forward to steal a kiss. Moments like these happen all the time for them, but each still feels like the first; that first moment they kissed at Garreg Mach. The moment when Marianne realized there was someone to love her completely, and someone Hilda knew would see through the façades to the real her.
It was beautiful in its innocence, so simple, so mundane, so very them. Marianne pulls back as the sun sets, glowing through Hilda's storefront. It's a gorgeous sight, and Marianne doesn't pay it any mind, content with where her eyes are. Hilda calls her silly, then continues with her work.
Marianne smiles. She is happy.
"Hello in there!" Hilda said, tapping her forehead. "Any Mariannes in there?"
She blinked, back to the present. With a chuckle, she nodded. "I think you would do wonderfully. I'm sure Raph or Ig would help you get started."
"Oh, smart!" Hilda said. "I know Ig once offered…"
She continued to babble on, Marianne hanging on every word. She smiled, and the traces of darkness in her mind couldn't be further away.
"You seem better. Well, even," Bernadetta said in lieu of a greeting.
Indech smiled, setting down the book he read by candlelight. "Bernadetta! So nice of you to drop by."
She smiled, taking a chair near her many-greats ancestor. "I mean it. You look recovered."
"Ah," he said, his smile faltering. "Not all wounds are physical, I'm afraid. But yes, physically, I am well. Whatever drug those fiends put in me has run its course. I feel more like myself than I have in a while."
"I'm glad," Bernadetta said. "Glad I got you out of there."
"You're a kind girl," he said. "Woman, rather. When you get to my age, it rather seems like everyone is a child in your eyes."
She bit her lip. He noticed.
"If you've a question, I would be all to happy to answer," he said. "Hell knows I've had little in company these past centuries."
"Did you ever love someone whom you out-aged?" she asked.
He blinked, surprised. "An oddly specific question. Especially when I do not think young Holst is an object of your affection." Indech clearly meant it as a joke, but when he noticed her recoil, he paused. "Unless, of course, I am not privy to such a thing?"
"No, it's not him. It's…someone else." She wrapped her arms around herself. "They were healed, just like you did for Holst. And now…I'm afraid of them being alone after me."
"Who could possibly be in the same circumstances?" Indech asked, bewildered. His face was confused, but she could see his brain reliving centuries worth of experiences, searching for an answer.
"Their name is Yuri," she said. "Aubin's descendant."
"And that grisly bastard went and helped them," Indech gasped before she could elaborate. "Oh, Aubin, you idiot. But…I guess I'm one too."
"I just worry for them," Bernadetta said, looking at the ground. "They don't need me, but everyone here…" She swallowed. "What's it like to watch all your loved ones die?"
He didn't answer for a long time. Then, "Agony. Agony like none other. And there's none to understand you, to know your pain and share it."
Bernadetta shrunk into herself.
"But time gives perspective," he continued. "I won't pretend it's an easy road, but I'm still here, am I not? Yes, I miss those I care about. But we find new things to persevere for. Your Yuri will as well. Of that I am certain."
Her arms were around him, hugging him in a very unlike Bernadetta. Yet there she clung to the one member of her blood family that ever gave a damn about her.
If Indech sensed that pain in her, he gave nothing away. Instead, he smiled, and patted her shoulder. "As far as descendants go, I think I'm rather lucky to have such an amazing one, myself."
They remained like that, for a while.
"I never asked," Claude said, surprised at himself. "Lorenz von Riegan, or Lorenz Hellman Riegan?"
His brother thought about it. "Von. Better politically to stay consistent with you. I've little personal preference, to be frank."
Each of them nursed a drink, an idea Shamir got into their heads after coming back from Derdriu. Claude could count on one hand how often he indulged in the vice that had gripped Byleth for so long, but the night before the decisive battle was as good a time as any to break a rule. They might all be dead tomorrow.
They wouldn't, he insisted. They wouldn't lose anyone. That, he vowed.
"I suppose after this, you could reclaim the Gloucester name," Claude mused. He took a sip of the bitter liquor; some expensive thing Lorenz of all people had brought with.
"No," Lorenz said, without hesitation.
"Oh?" Claude said, not expecting how decisive he was.
"What you did…it meant a lot to me," Lorenz said, glancing at him. "I don't want to give that up."
"Good," Claude said, smiling. "I like having you as a brother. But, Lorenz, you know a name doesn't mean anything with this. You were always my brother."
"Then forgive a man for being shallow," chuckled Lorenz.
Claude mirrored him, knowing the feeling. Names were important. Claude, Khalid, each had its own story. Both his, both true, both different.
His eyes lingered on Failnaught, his birthright. Ferdinand had brought it to him after Derdriu, but he'd not worked up the courage to use it. Part per their agreement not to use Relics, but equal in part to not being sure if that was him. That bow had killed many, many of his people. So was he truly Duke Riegan, the one who wielded Failnaught, heir to the Riegan of old and centuries of hatred to his people? Or was he Khalid of Almyra? He hadn't been sure. Where did one end, the other begin?
He still didn't know, but time was a luxury he couldn't afford. He was both of them, man of both worlds. And as the curtain rose on Fódlan's new dawn, his hand needed all the cards he could play.
"Hey, Lorenz," Claude said.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks, you know. For being my friend, back at the academy."
"We didn't see eye to eye much, at the beginning."
"Yeah. I'm glad we got past that. Of everything I've done since coming here, the people I've met were the best part."
"Claude?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for not giving up on me as a lost cause. I know I was…"
"Uppity?"
"Intolerable."
"Ha! No, that's not true. You were all prim and priss, but we were all different then."
"Ha, to think…"
"Yeah?"
"To think what a younger me would say to me now. How a Riegan was my best friend and brother. He'd have a fit."
"Tell me about it. Baby Khalid getting chummy with a Gloucester? Perish the thought, my good man."
"Guess we've both grown."
"Never stops."
"I'm glad we've lived this long to see it."
"Me too, Lorenz. Best thing I could ever ask for."
"Think we'll survive?"
"Yeah. I think we will. We'll take some hits, but we'll weather it."
"Claude?"
"Yeah, Lorenz?"
"Thank you for everything."
"Love you too, buddy."
No one stopped them from gathering outside the castle, and that spoke of just how limited the numbers were at their enemy's disposal.
Balthus put on his Relics while Leonie adjusted her sword belt. He glanced at her. "You're going to fight."
She shook her head. "No. Just pays to be prepared. Fighting's beyond me, but I can block one attack if need be."
He paused. "Are you going with the vanguard?"
"Of course," Leonie said, as if he were silly.
Setting down his gauntlets, he crossed his arms. "Leonie," he said, chiding, disapproving.
She glared. "Balthus, I can do this."
Balthus started to argue, before he stopped himself. Instead, he walked forward and took one of her hands in his. "Leonie, you're the best person I've ever met. I won't risk the world losing you. It needs you, after the fighting." He squeezed her hand.
They stood close, looking into each other's eyes. For the briefest of instants, his world stopped as he lost himself in her.
She smiled. "Stay by my side?"
"Always," he breathed.
"If you've got something to say, say it," Felix said, looking at Brutus.
For all that the kid was, well, a kid, he handled himself well in the initial fight. The Faerghan volunteers were securing the base of the castle. It'd be a vertical fight to Chilon, and to Remus.
But Brutus hadn't taken his eyes off Felix for hours. The angry eyes of a person nearly ten years younger then him. It was annoying.
And he continued to say nothing as they sat, a healer tending to the gash on Felix's arm. Trying his best, said, "You look like you're going to stab me in the back. Just fucking say it." His best wasn't all too kind. "We're going to save your father, isn't this the part where you're excited?"
"What would you know about fathers?" Brutus snapped.
Felix froze, the cold before the anger. Then he growled. "And what would you mean by that, child."
"Yours is dead."
"Thank you, I wasn't aware," Felix spat.
The healer finished her work and hastily retreated from the scene as Brutus leaned forward. "This was supposed to be my moment to prove I was better than my brother. Then you come along with your army, stealing the show."
Felix stared at him. "Are you kidding me?"
Brutus looked away, indignant.
He didn't get off so easily. Felix stood and grabbed him by the collar, holding him up an inch off the ground. "There are people here fighting. Fighting for the sake of you and your father. And you're doing this for your own issues?"
"Let go of me," Brutus growled.
"Not until you get it," Felix snarled. "Fuck your father's impression. Fuck your brother. If you're going to fight, don't be selfish about it."
"What, you never wanted to make your parents proud?" Brutus said, trying to break Felix's grip.
He blinked, and dropped him. Brutus yelped, hitting the ground with a clatter. "What the hell was that?" he shouted. They'd drawn the attention of those nearby.
Felix turned away, slouching. Before leaving, he said, "Don't worry about impressing anyone. It's not worth it. Just be yourself." And he walked away.
Before the day was done, the castle fell.
They'd all survived. Chilon was dead at Felix's hand. Remus was free. Brutus was reunited with his father. Leonie made plans with the reinstated Lord Hevring to charter a boat to Enbarr. Balthus was running around the city playing town crier with the good news.
Yet Felix leaned on the balcony overlooking the city, sour. A weight sat in his stomach. Damn him for knowing what it was, too.
Remus smiling, weeping, as he embraced his son. He held him tight, telling him how happy he was to see him. Brutus looked embarrassed at the blatant affection and tried to talk his father out of it. But, he noticeably hugged the man back.
Would it really have been that hard, father? Felix thought angrily. To just accept the son you had left?
"Thought I'd find you out here."
He glanced to Leonie, who came to stand out with him. He sighed. "I dread what conversation brought you out here."
"No, you don't," Leonie chuckled. "Looked like you needed company."
"And?" Felix pushed.
"And I wanted to see if you'd come to Enbarr with us," she admitted.
"Yes. We done?"
"No, I'm content to remain here while you brood," Leonie said.
He growled. "Fine."
"Do your friends know?" she asked. "About your father?"
"Yes." Damn her for her good memory, her kindness. Leave it be, he begged.
She didn't. "I heard what Brutus said to you."
He said nothing.
Leonie rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay to be jealous."
Those were the words that broke him, the mallet to the fragile vase. He'd laugh, later, that something so innocuous was what did it. Simple thoughts to a friend were what drew the grief out of him like a toxin. Not for what was, but grief for what could have been.
Sadness for memories never made. For bonds never forged. For a life he'd never know. For that, he wept. Leonie wrapped an arm around him and held him, the only comfort she could give Felix in the moment.
It was welcome.
Author Notes: Clarent Saga: Tactics is now updated through Chapter 24 with the Arranged Script. You're missing out if you haven't checked it out, both David and I agree this is my best work so far. If you're not in a position to play the game, I'll see what I can do about making my version of the script available to download and read once it's complete!
Editing Notes:
2/18/2022: Fixed an issue of continuity.
2/23/2022: Minor grammatical adjustments.