{-Alfonse-}
For a while, he didn't even realize anything was different. He was at the royal castle, in his quiet corner of the library, reading over the reports. They were hardly ever anything worth noting; the few that were didn't give enough detail for it to be further examined. Even the ones brought from the Order were useless.
It wasn't any kind of perfect tranquility, but he did feel better in knowing that this was predictable. No missions, no worrying over Sharena, no annoying council members obviously trying to bug him… just him, in his corner of the library, embracing his true calling as a recluse if he hadn't been born into the nobility. It was the mundaneness of the act that pleased him—just knowing that he could turn to the next page with an accurate guess of what it said. He missed predictability. How long had it been since he could sit down and know that his plan for the day wouldn't be interrupted? A couple of years? Wasn't Zacharias still at the Order..?
He knew that there were some things that couldn't be controlled; no one could really know the weather or if there'd be a drought until it, arguably, became too late to prepare for. Things could be done in order to be ready for it, but in times where it wasn't needed it tended to be put on the sidelines. All of that was like common knowledge to him. In recognizing that, it was reassuring to know that there could be boring, controllable days.
"You're always working on something, aren't you? Guess I'm in no place to judge, though…" At first, he simply ignored the voice; it was familiar and honestly surprised him to be hearing, but it wouldn't have been the first that his imagination got the better of him.
"Great minds think alike," Alfonse mumbled, mostly to himself. "But we're not great at all, are we?"
"You remembered. Here I thought you would've ignored everything I told you and fortify your little bubble of denial a bit more." A couple moments later, Líf strode over to the table he was sitting at. Neither of them particularly tried to grab the attention of the other; Alfonse didn't look up from what he was doing and Líf didn't push him to.
"It's hard to forget when you had me pinned down and in a perfect position to kill." The casual statement and cool semblance likely didn't hide the fact he was beginning to get anxious. It might've worked if it was someone who didn't know him—but for someone who was him, who'd just taken up a different name and hailed from another world, the difference had to be obvious. "That was never cleared up, was it? It's not like you were waiting for the others; you fled the moment you heard them. There was that one thing you said, of course… 'you're going to be wishing this was where you died.' Though that's hardly an explanation."
"You've figured it out by now. I know you're smart enough not to need to hear it from me first. Just a little thought, almost like an echo, that you're too scared of being right to say out loud…" Líf still didn't get any closer or any further away, slowly appearing to be little more than Alfonse's own imagination and thoughts incarnate. There was nothing to fear from something that wasn't even real, he knew that much as fact, and yet… why did he feel like he was in danger? Why was the words of the dead repeating in his mind every time he thought of them, another conversation coming to mind every word he read no matter how unrelated?
A bit more importantly: why was it that every time he looked in the mirror, it was never him? It's been months since he last saw either of them… why now, if all times, were they coming to haunt his mind? There wasn't anything he could do to get rid of them; they just kept coming back, acting as his doubts, fears, and very rarely, voice of reason. Eir was the only one that seemed to notice, the rest of them simply giving him a worried glance and walking away again—but of course, the one he'd feel most comfortable talking to (knowing she wouldn't over-exaggerate the situation and give him nothing more than the blunt truth of it) was far too close to the problem in order to effectively help.
None of this was real, he knew that. He shouldn't be afraid of his own thoughts; the only harm they'd ever be able to do to him is what he let them. But he couldn't make sense of what he was feeling, all this stuff that he didn't even realize bothered him so much… there was these things that even he couldn't explain, and didn't want to be worried over. It was his own problem; if he couldn't figure it out, how could the rest of them?
Alfonse realized, perhaps a bit late, that he'd spaced out and completely forgot about Líf. Though when he looked up to find the alternate version of himself, he didn't see anything. It was just him in the otherwise empty library, with hardly even a noise to speak of.
"Just as I expected. Letting something as simple as that bother you." The familiar voice was oddly comforting, once again merely by the fact that it was familiar. Though the tone was disappointed, it was one he knew well and would almost welcome if he could believe that it was real.
"Yet I have yet to set anything on fire," Alfonse returned, "So it can't be too bad. Though I would've preferred it much more if I didn't have to deal with all the problems you left behind. One could even wonder if you died just so then you wouldn't have to deal with it anymore, Father."
In truth, this really wasn't much better than talking to Líf; it was still someone that brought up things he'd rather forget—doubts that he wished he didn't have—but just as the voice was familiar, so was this. It might not have been pleasant, but it was a kind of feeling that he'd grown used to. At this point, to have it any other way would mean questioning everything and claiming it was most definitely a dream.
"There's not a bit of duty left in you, is there? Not like you had much to begin with… You can't handle what you're currently doing, so how do you expect to deal with everything that has yet to come? You're drowning under all of this pressure now, and unlike the last time, you don't have an option to run off. It's because of that decision that you're unable to get your head above the water in the present, where it matters most." For all the things he was saying, the late king didn't make himself known.
Alfonse continued to keep his resolve by saying what he'd tell himself in any similar situation, "I will not let you mess with me."
"So says the boy that can't handle a couple of threats," Gustav pointed out mockingly. "If you don't have the strength to simply make a convincing picture, can you even do anything to help? You don't have the luxury of letting others do all the work for you, and still you rely on them. I asked this question once and I'm going to ask you again: if you had to chose between a handful of close friends or the lives of every other person in this kingdom, which would it be?"
"Just as the last, you already know my answer. My thoughts have not changed. I'd rather help those I know I could trust—who've stayed by my side and moved with me as, together, we forged our future—than countless people who wouldn't so much as pick up a sword in their kingdom's name without something promised to them." Alfonse finally decided to look up, seeing Gustav's look of disappointment. It didn't matter; they each had their own paths, and as such, there'd be many things they'd disagree on.
He wasn't expecting his father to remind him of one of the truths he couldn't face; "Inexperience can lead to premature destruction, just as much as naiveté brings about more problems than it can ever fix. You've been given your options, and you've chosen your path. Now all that's left is to grow the fruits of your labor and wait to see if they're ripe or rotten."
A new voice kept the conversation from going any further. "Well, that's just rude! Be a good little nightmare and quit it!"
((A/N: Alfonse, this is why you talk to people. Screaming into a pillow might even help, who knows.
There's several things mentioned in this chapter that was in previous stories, that I will clarify here for anyone needing it:
- "Great minds think alike, but we're not all that great, are we?" is Alfonse referencing Líf told him in a chapter of Of Life and Death titled 'The Same.' The exact context is Líf trying to creep Alfonse out, pretty much, and the quote itself being this: "They say great minds think alike, though I wouldn't call us all that great."
- "…why was it that every time he looked in the mirror, it was never him?" This answers a question Eir asked Alfonse in the last chapter of the previous story, Ties to the Past. She was trying to get him to talk about what was bothering him, and this is what she told him: "When you look at me, who do you see? […] If you were to face your reflection, right now at this very moment, who would be staring back at you?"
- "Yet I have yet to set anything on fire." and "I asked this question once and I'm going to ask you again." both refer to a conversation Alfonse and Gustav have waaay back in Turning Point. The conversation itself was: "If a time should come in your life when you must choose between your subjects and your friends, who will you choose? Completely hypothetical. No wrong answer." *Alfonse shows that he chooses the latter* "Gods save Askr while you're on the throne. Try not to get the whole kingdom killed by the time you die." "Well, I can assure you it won't be in flames the second you're dead." (sarcasm: Such a healthy father-son relationship)
That's everything and thanks for sticking around for my complicated thought process! The chapters also now go back to normal!))
