Chapter 4: Learning to Live Without You
Serena woke stretching a hand to someone who was not there. It took her a moment to gather herself from the remnants of her dream. She fell back against the pillow, withdrawing her arm to lay it across her eyes. A tear slid down her cheek.
Visions of her sister's sacrifice flashed vividly before her. Minutiae burned themselves into her retinas: her sister's determination in the face of bitter defeat, her final smile as she placed her faith in those who had failed. Her selflessness in granting life to the twin who had always walked in her shadow.
She rose and readied herself for another week in service to the people of Arboria. Veronica used to handle such duties, so Serena had been unaccustomed to them and had struggled initially. Now she dispatched them with swiftness and efficiency she would have envied in her younger days.
Yet she found herself leaving thoughts half-finished, expecting them to be completed. Found herself still seeking someone else's opinion before her own. Still waiting for someone else to make the decisions, forgetting she had to make her own now. Reaching for the warmth of a frame that had always been beside her – the familiar comfort of following someone she trusted with every fibre of her being. It was more difficult to function than she had ever imagined, and that first year without her had almost torn her apart.
Then, the ends of her hair tickled her neck in the spring breeze, and the birds regaling their town invited her to celebrate life in memory of her sister.
"Serena, dear? Breakfast is ready."
"Coming!" she called with a hard-earned smile. A genuine one that had taken another year to return.
She would never shake off the pain of losing half of herself. But her sister was always watching. That young green leaf, apoptosed from Yggdrasil's immense branches far too early, had drifted to her and stayed beside her.
It had wounded her further when Junichi had travelled back in time. Another comrade never to be seen again. She knew why, of course – likely more than anyone else – and a chance for a single timeline to contain an elder twin with greying hairs and prominent crow's feet was too good to pass up. Nonetheless, the release of her charge and the sudden farewell had reminded her strongly of how the shortened mage had left. Serena supposed the depth of her grief matched that of the sweet blonde girl in Cobblestone, who had awaited the return of her loved one with eagerness, only to discover that he was gone with nary a goodbye.
She had thought that Veronica wanted her to stand by herself, not requiring anyone else. But she had misunderstood: it was reliance on friends and family that had made her strong. To stand on her own two feet but to rejoice in her need to lean on everyone, to hold their hands. She realised that now.
Her sister was always watching, proud that Serena was standing. Proud that she could dance with real pleasure.
It was a lovely day, crisp and bright. Flat clouds stretched across the sky, and light shimmered as it passed through to reach Erdrea's surface. The chatter of contented townsfolk bounced off stone walls. Children laughed as they roughhoused on the streets, shouting offhand apologies after a customer as one tripped over a box of produce in the bustling market.
Rab smiled at the scene from his window. He uncurled himself from the couch with difficulty, its cushioned velvet one of many gifts from King Carnelian. He had intended to have it traded off to help fund the rebuilding efforts, but Jade had insisted that he keep it for Rab's weakening back. The old man was touched at their generosity – almost every settlement on earth had laboured to get back on their feet after Mordegon's defeat. Even now, the poorer towns had not yet recovered; but he heard stories of well-off places such as Gallopolis offering their aid and certain individuals from Sylvando's retinue giving joy and hope.
It had been slightly over five years since Junichi had left. Rab was still in amazement that Dundrasil had been almost completely reconstructed in so little time and with such sturdy foundations. His people had flocked back in response to spreading rumours of its repopulation, courtesy of Erik's travels.
However, there remained the issue of inheritance.
There weren't many with the appropriate lineage who could assume the throne. His grandson would have been first in line; other potential candidates were difficult to track down. Rab's eldest brother had passed away young, leaving no heirs; the middle brother had had two children but his family had shipwrecked off the coast of Sniflheim approximately two decades past. His father had been an only child, so there were none with royal blood as far as Rab could trace.
There were alternatives, of course, like leaving the nation's affairs to his council. It had already been established before the city's fall but was still missing some seats. These members could be elected by the people. But Drasilians were fond of their monarchy and would not react well to its dissolution.
He glanced at the tapestry opposite him, its threaded gold brilliant under the sunlight streaming in through the glass. It was frayed and the finely worked metal holding it up was tarnished from years of neglect, yet its depiction of a delighted couple holding a babe dressed in purple was unmistakable.
The king sometimes dreamed of the old days. Nights by the campfire, watching sweat rolling down Junichi's face while he hammered away at a weapon, the comfortable sound of a blade against a whetstone as he listened intently to some tale of his parents. He wondered how he was doing. If he had succeeded. Rab had to believe he had, that it was worth letting him go.
There were yet problems in Dundrasil, but he would toil to resolve them. They all would. And he prayed that, whatever his grandson was doing, wherever or whenever he was, he was happy.
"So hot…"
They had donned pale robes to shield themselves from the desert sun but it wasn't doing Mia much good. "Erdrea's awesome and all, but this is insane!"
Erik grinned down at his little sister. "You'll get used to it."
"I don't wanna get used to it!" she complained. She sighed sharply. A djinn in a golden lamp would be very convenient to get rid of the noonday sultriness.
"Don't talk," he chided her. "We'll expend too much energy and moisture."
The pair plodded across the wilderness. Heat shimmered over the sands, so dry it was difficult to breathe. Mia's waterskin was warm against her waist; she squinted at it for a second, debating whether to take a swig. She decided against it, wanting to save it for later. They weren't sure when exactly they would encounter a village. Or an oasis, but her good-for-nothing elder brother had said that towns were usually established around those. Hm. Guess he was useful for something, after all.
The desert was ridiculous. First, she was being roasted alive, especially when the sun was near its zenith. Then, once it would set in a few hours, the heat would bleed off the sand with nothing to absorb into, and they would be shivering all through the night. Rinse, repeat.
It had taken the two the better part of two years to travel around most of the world. Erik had told her that his party had done one run in less than a year due to the urgency of their mission. They hadn't really gotten the chance to laze about and explore every nook and cranny. So, this time, they were taking it easy and spending a few weeks in each location, as long as either of them wanted. Be patient! She was getting to the point of her internal monologuing, sheesh. It was a shame that he wouldn't let her relieve people of excess valuables, but at least he had taught her to pan gold, which was an acceptable hobby if a little slow and often yielded flakes the size of a larger grain of sand.
Her brother had changed a fair bit in the time they had been separated. He thought they had ample coinage and bragged that he'd learned a thing or two from his former companions, enough to earn legally. It was weird. She didn't know yet if it was bad, but she would probably decide eventually. Anyway.
Puerto Valor was pretty cool, discounting the fact that Erik wouldn't let her have fun in the casino. Hunting for pearls in Lonalulu made for some neat treasure. Maybe she'd attend that swanky academy place one day (though the girls there seemed way too snobbish for her liking). But Gallopolis. Oh, the sweltering desert expanses, natural enemy to her Sniflheim blood.
If they didn't melt on the way to Gallopolis, Mia would kill her brother with her own hands.
"What?! After all my effort in stringing you along for the ride?"
Darn it. She'd said that aloud.
The sun was about three-quarters of the way through its daily journey. He would need to leave soon in order to be ready on time. But he could engage in some light sparring in the meantime.
"Papi!"
The older man glanced over his shoulder; his expression lit up immediately. "Finally come to join us on a good old-fashioned battleground? I've been waiting."
"It's been a while," Sylvando said, stretching. "I don't want my skills to get rusty, even if there aren't any foreseeable threats to fend off."
"Good man." His father clapped him heartily on his slender shoulder once, then paused. "Did you manage to see your friend off?"
He beamed. "I did! He and his baby sister are quite the troublesome pair. You know, despite all his prowess with dirks and the like, he functions admirably with a basket-hilted sword. Very familiar with seaxes, too, naturally."
"Given his Sniflheim heritage, I'd imagine so," came the response.
"I think he could stand a little to learn from you, Papi!" Sylvando declared. "Then again, almost everyone does. But he's not really interested in that now, I suppose. He wants to go treasure hunting with Mia."
What about himself? What did he want?
After Junichi had gone, he hadn't returned to Puerto Valor immediately. He had stopped at various cities, helping to rebuild and keep people's spirits up. He had informed his friends at Gallopolis circus that he would be taking indefinite leave – but he had fully intended to return once everything was settled.
He still did, yet something was keeping him there. Sylvando wasn't sure what. Maybe he desired to stay close to his father, not knowing the amount of time they had left together. Wishing to take comfort in that which he had not lost, rather than who he had. It was clear, however, that he could not remain forever – the wind called to him and would not relent until he was old and grey, or perhaps never.
Approaching the racks on the side, he perused the selection of rapiers. He plucked a blade, its steel surface gleaming, and twirled it a couple of times to test its balance. He nodded to himself in satisfaction and went to join the other man in the centre of the ring. The uniform bricks were warm under his feet.
"That stance of yours is weak," he barked.
He smirked in reply and shifted accordingly, sword held parallel to the floor the entire time. Some of the knights-in-training gathered round to watch the renowned men, the former of whom had trained the great Sir Hendrik, who had saved Erdrea alongside the Luminary and Don Rodrigo's son. Talent was undoubtedly genetic.
The sun was low in the sky but not enough to throw haloes of red and orange through purpled clouds when at last they finished. Sylvando wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with a pleased exhalation. His tunic was damp; he'd had a good workout. He would need to change out of it, however, before he left. It wouldn't do to perform with a reeking body.
"Mind you look after that rapier before you put it away," the retired knight warned. The squires began to disperse, chattering amongst themselves in awe.
"Of course, Papi! What kind of boorish oaf do you take me for?"
"Hmph."
"Are you coming to the show tonight?"
"Hmph."
"Wonderful! Oh, I was thinking we could have a guest appearance! Since most of the Knights of Smile left to go to other towns, we've been lacking a little joy in Puerto Valor." He polished the cold steel happily.
His father caught the sly grin. "Absolutely not."
He leapt over and grasped a hand in mock desperation. "The residents would be so delighted, I'm sure!"
"No!"
Needless to say, Don Rodrigo entertained the citizens very well that evening. He received three encores.
Sunsets were nicer when there was someone beside you to enjoy it with, Jade thought. Actually, she amended, they weren't that great, to begin with. It was the simple act of sharing time with someone you cared about which made it special.
She turned away to move back into her room, heeled boots clicking on the concrete and muffled on the plush carpet. Jade sank onto her bed and fingered her hair. It was styled up in a braided bun, a few loose strands framing her almond-shaped eyes. Her petticoated skirt tangled her legs and the tight lace about her bodice was still unfamiliar after all these years. She glanced at herself in the mirror: an unrecognisable royal.
She didn't know if she could call herself unhappy. She had been reunited with her father and had returned to her beloved kingdom; Mordegon, the scourge of Erdrea, had been felled and Yggdrasil had risen to her rightful place in the northern sky. Her friends had scattered to the winds to do what they desired with their lives, and so had she. And she still had Hendrik with her – as uptight as he was, he was very dependable.
But Jade had never wished for luxurious dresses, costly kohl, or for more shoes than she knew what to do with, or for living quarters too vast for one. When she was young, she had been accustomed to such opulence; but no longer. However, that was the responsibility given with blood, was it not? Ordained from birth.
Perhaps she was still sour. Perhaps she had not yet adjusted to living life like this. Half a decade did not compare to almost sixteen years on the road. But she was certain that, someday, she would. She would step up to be the ruler her people needed.
A firm knock sounded on the door. "Princess?"
She looked up at the familiar voice. "What is it?" Maybe he had come to remind her of dinner.
The mahogany door opened slowly. Hendrik stood beyond it, opting to linger outside. It was inappropriate for a man to be in her presence without company. She sniggered quietly at his insistence on decorum.
"You requested that I inform you when the package arrived."
Jade threw herself off the bed and jumped forward, ignoring his wince of disapproval. "Let's go!" she exclaimed and rushed down the corridor towards the lobby. Her knight heaved a sigh as he took off after the enthusiastic woman.
The king was already there, hands clasped behind his back. He turned upon her arrival, welcoming her with a bright smile. "I see Sir Hendrik is wholly unable to restrain our unruly princess!"
She beamed back. "You are quite right, Father! Has it been put up yet?" Her pace slowed.
He gestured behind him. "See for yourself," he encouraged.
Jade walked around him, setting her sights on a sizeable painting. Her hand reached out, stopping just before she touched it – she didn't want to ruin the colouring. Yellow spiralled under her thumb, connecting to smooth waves of teal. Green and blue side by side, red so bright she would almost call it garish interspersed with serene white… The purple of a coat she'd never see again and the flashing gold on the back of his hand.
"The likeness is remarkable, don't you think?" her father commented. She nodded silently. They couldn't be here, with her, with everyone… but they would remember them. They would be with her in every decision she made.
She wondered if he was okay.
Wherever he was, whenever he was, she prayed to Yggdrasil that he was happy. Because that was all she could do.
Sandy frolicked in the long grass, yipping and chasing after her tail. Several children ran after the dog, stroking her soft fur and throwing makeshift balls for her to fetch. She was less excitable these days, though; she was pushing some fifteen years, nearing the end of her lifespan. Soon, Gemma would be left the sole member of their informal trio.
Sometimes Erik came to Cobblestone, pretty and peculiar trinkets tucked away in his knapsack, tales in his pocket. They swapped stories on every occasion, but Erik gave them away more often than not – he had far more to tell. He usually dragged Mia along; the dear girl protested quite loudly and berated her brother, but Gemma could tell she liked visiting. The blue-haired girl gave her many sidelong looks, and she knew why.
Maybe one day. But not now.
Gemma was twenty-two now, long past her village's optimal age to be wed. She should have tied the knot four or five years ago – everyone in Cobblestone knew it should have been to Junie and celebrated it. Then the secret of his birth had been revealed; he'd left and people had called him the Darkspawn and she'd screamed that's a lie over and over again and her heart had ached at his absence and been repulsed by their deceit.
She thought of Junie regularly. Less frequently than before but too much to say that she was over him. Yet… she was learning. Learning how to survive in a world without him in it. How to live in a time darkened without his sure light, without his blue gaze, without his tender smile.
Far off was the day when thoughts of him would bring only slight sorrow. (She was certain that it would arrive.)
She was too old now for the boys in their simple town. Memories of Junie had prevented them from proposing earlier, an unprecedented delicacy on their part, but the years had spilt through the cracks of her mask and left her heart and adolescence behind.
Princess Jade insisted on her youth, however, pointing out the lack of crinkling skin next to her eyes, the smoothness where smiling lines creased around an older nose. Yet physical ageing meant nothing to her now, not with no one to look pretty for. But she was still Grandad's little girl, and he indulged her every voiced whim. She found herself smiling and having to watch her words so sweets wouldn't pile up on the kitchen counter and she'd have to eat them to avoid his pouting face.
She couldn't really bring herself to thank Yggdrasil for taking Junie away from her, but Gemma could certainly thank Her for his friends and her grandad. Without them, she would have broken that fateful day, and no one could have pieced her back together.
When the glue was dry…
She might fall in love again.
AN:
I changed my mind as to the chapter order last minute. Also, I'm so sorry - I had this fic done just before the new year but completely forgot to post it on this site.
I wasn't sure whether to make Gemma twenty-two or twenty-three. I decided to say that Acts I & II took over a year (I was tempted to make it two since they travelled around the world twice), and it's been over five years since Junie went back in time.
Next instalment: Gemma sings for adventure in the great wide somewhere and gets it.
