I decided not to rush this one out like I did chapter 7. This is the final chapter – it had to be the best of the series. You guys have been such great readers I couldn't give you any less than my best for an ending. :o) And thus I give you…
Chapter 8. A Price for Free Will
Her pretty face tore a hole through his heart. It wasn't that he didn't know this was the Ethereal Queen they had come to slay. The massive white wings behind her back were identical in all ways but color to those Gabriel had possessed.
The truth was that he had ached for so long to see that face just one last time. But now that he had his wish, he wanted nothing more than to take it back. He didn't want to see Faina's face – not like this. His last memory of her may have been a dream, or it may have been something more; she had been perfectly at peace against a backdrop of beautiful fields. Total trust and love had radiated from her smile, and more than anything that was the last image he wanted to keep forever. She had believed in him; believed he could rise above all he had endured and come out victorious. He knew without a doubt that vision or not, it had been Faina.
The copy smiled a truly happy smile – one Capell remembered as the expression Faina would show him when they reunited after an extended separation. He half expected her to fold her hands beneath her chin and giggle nervously. But that would mean she would have to drop that lethal looking scythe in her hands. And somehow Capell just didn't see that happening. The knot in his stomach started to burn.
"Thee have come," the archaic dialect made it even easier to distance this fraud from the real Faina, "this is most auspicious."
"Don't get the wrong idea," Capell's voice was as flat as he wished his emotions would be, "we're not here to give you what you want. We've come here to stop you." One feminine eyebrow arched haughtily – something Faina would never have done. His Faina hadn't known how to be haughty.
His Faina. She had been his... once. Even if he had been too busy juggling the desire for two women to take her up on her offer. And now it was too late. Faina was Capell's past; Aya was his future. Or at least, she would have been if he still had a future. Capell ground his teeth tightly, trying not to let despair find him now – not when he was so close…
The Ethereal Queen seemed not to notice his distress. "Indeed? Such ambition; misguided as it is futile. Thou must understand thee are not capable of besting me."
"We seemed to do a pretty good job of killing Gabriel," Capell said casually, as though he hadn't been so severely injured in that battle that he had nearly been lost. "It will take more effort from us, but I believe we can finish you, too."
"Thou dost not know the consequences of thine actions." The queen's soft voice chided and Capell ignored the motherly façade. "This opportunity is bestowed only once. Cast it aside and suffer Veros's fate."
"Veros's fate," Capell said stiffly, "was done by us. We destroyed him – not you." The lovely face smiled at Capell, just as Faina used to smile for him; as though the queen adored him.
"Thee believe thou could have succeeded had I not willed it?" Her question was delivered through a light chuckle that did little to comfort those she spoke to. "Veros betrayed my will in attempting to remake the mortal world I entrusted with him. His sentence was just. That thou were his executioners matters not. Thou were wielded by my hand as surely as thy swords are wielded by thee."
"We fought because we chose to," Edward countered heatedly, "we fought to protect our world. You had nothing to do with our decision."
"But everything to do with thy success." The Ethereal Queen countered with far less humor. "Had I chosen to intervene, rest assured Veros would live today and thee most certainly would not."
"So what about Gabriel," Vic's cocky tone erupted from the middle of the group, "what did he do to tick ya off? 'Cause we killed him, too."
"Gabriel was inconsequential. That thee slew him matters not, only that he carried out his purpose before he perished. His actions ensured thou would lack the strength to overcome me. Certainly thou are aware any battle against me is suicide. Succumbing to my will is thine only alternative."
"Your will. Your will." Capell's sword rose in deadly promise. "Your will means nothing to me. We decide our fates, not you. Our lives belong to us."
"And thine lives were bestowed upon thee by whom? Not Veros; he told thee as much." The motherly smile returned. "Every beat of thy hearts, every breath in thy lungs; it is all because I bestowed life to mankind. The lives thee live have always been mine."
"Never." Sigmund hissed. "Giving life does not grant automatic mastery. As long as humanity possesses free will, you will not possess us."
The pretty figure before them paused thoughtfully. "Such power as wielded by thee could rule the heavens. It is the very reason thou were created. Thee truly were the instruments of great promise. And yet a weapon without a warrior to wield it is of no use."
She shook her head as though saddened at the thought and sighed after a moment.
"Thee must desire respite from thy empty existence… thou shall have it!"
Three black as pitch orbs materialized while a blinding flash of light brighter than anything Capell had ever known seemed to suck the winged menace from their view. The Ethereal Queen was enveloped in a blinding shell of light, reappearing farther into the great chamber and out of their reach.
It must have been instinct – a reaction from fighting in the same place they had stood against Veros – for at her words the Liberation Force was dispersing as much as they could, giving the queen no mass of targets to wipe out all at once.
Sigmund alone hung close to Capell, but at a rough shove Capell forced him back a few steps.
"Get away!" Capell shouted, "we're too tempting together!" The warrior in Sigmund knew that his son was right. Two Liberators at once would be far too appealing for the queen to ignore. With a great deal of reluctance, Sigmund moved well out of aid's reach of Capell, watching as his son hacked away at a faesphere that had come too close to him. Battle cries crescendoed from all sides, warriors taking on enemies with vicious attacks and oaths. Sigmund's own voice blended into the uproar when he turned his attention to another of the deadly orbs as it came between him and the queen.
Rucha was summoning her creatures and losing them just as quickly. The winged things would dive upon the queen, land a single blow, and then be blown from existence by any one of her multitude of spells. Screeching their demise, the beasts would vanish only to be born again at the summoner's command, the girl's tenacity rivaling that of her brother. Further away, the acrobatic former thief sprung feet-over-hands backward, Vic successfully maneuvering to stay out of reach of another faesphere's attack.
With the liquid grace of her trade, Komachi was the first to slip in close enough for short-ranged combat against the queen. Before the god was able to realize an enemy was beside her, the Nightwhisperer was able to land a solid Thistle attack, rapid blows of her daggers striking true, and then retreat before the queen could counter. Vic followed closely and brought down a Grasshopper Stomp before somersaulting away with a Geoquake landslide of sorts in tight pursuit. Aya contributed fall after fall of Raven Venom, each time pausing to change positions and avoid retaliation.
Yet despite the most powerful attacks the team could unleash, the queen seemed as fresh as ever.
Then, just as they had feared, things quickly escalated.
Vic screamed in pain as Astrocolypse erupted unexpectedly, swallowing the thief in a blast of pure energy. All agility and speed, Vic was still unable to twist out of the way in time while moving in for another assault. Exposed skin of arms, legs and face were lacerated heavily, threatening mortal danger as they bled out. Long legs gave way and the wounded fighter dropped heavily onto damaged hands and knees, watching in horror as blood pooled on the ornate flooring bellow. In the distance Edward cried out Vic's name, slashing wildly at the orb before him in an effort to break through to his friend.
Blind panic caused Michelle to forget herself and cry out "Levusti" in a habit she had not been able to break these past two years.
And at once Vic was surrounded by a flare of beautiful light; the blood that had seeped from a thousand wounds vanished, leaving unmarred skin beneath. Vic's agony silenced, and bewildered eyes lowered to skin as pristine as a newborn's.
For a moment the force nearly forgot they were engulfed in battle. Even the queen seemed to hesitate as she appraised the sudden turn of fortune. Michelle glanced down to her hand, the Lunaglyph at its back still faintly glowing from the expended energy of the healing spell.
They had their glyphs.
They had their glyphs!
"How…" she murmured, looking back to Vic, who was staring at the healer in open-mouthed shock.
"All-right!" Rico's exaltation broke the silence and, in a voice that cracked whenever the young teen became excited, Voltscourge answered his command. Electric bolts leapt forth as though it had never left him, engulfing the queen in fingers of super-charged ozone. In unison, Rucha was immediately crying out for Pyreddon, summoning forth the deadly chunks of burning stone to crush down upon their foe.
Capell's steps were lightning quick as he evaded another faesphere when it began to close in on him. Armor flashed in the strange light, giving the impression that Capell was moving faster than reality. The faesphere in pursuit corrected its course, only to find Balbagon had stepped in to clear the Liberator's path to the queen. The mighty axe cleaved through air and collided with the alien matter while Capell sped forward, sword humming in the air as he moved in for his attack upon their nemesis.
A slender form stepped in his path and he barely had time to twist the blade away to spare a life.
"Aya what are you doing?" Capell gasped, tottering from his abrupt halt. "I could have-"
Aya's palm slapped flat against his chest, preventing him from toppling over onto her. "Levi!" She cried and Capell's eyes widened, his breath leaving him in a throaty grunt.
His first experience was pain – liquid fire that lanced from his shoulder into his chest and down to his stomach. The healing magic negated Kiriya's analgesic – the nearness of its caster causing instant and uninhibited results. Before he could double over, however, Aya was crying out the healing spell's name again, and another burst of prismatic light engulfed the Liberator. Aya repeated the spell a third, fourth and fifth time for good measure before she fell silent and backed off a step, barely remembering that distance was the key to avoiding annihilation.
Capell looked up to his betrothed, realizing what she had just done. At a twist of his shoulder, he could feel the muscles stretch and contort beneath his skin, but not even a slight twinge to hint that an injury had ever been present. For the first time in so long he felt whole again. A smile spread slowly, engulfing his face after a moment. The sword spun up lightly and he turned to face the queen as fresh as though he hadn't fought in days.
"As parasitic as the god that spawned them; so do behave his glyphs." The queen wore a look close to disgust on her face. "Thieving my power just as Veros, in order to defy me. Thou believe having thy glyphs back will fair thee any better? Allow me to correct the misinterpretation. Seraphic Law!"
Capell's joy evaporated.
He had just enough time to hurl Aya out of the way before over a dozen missiles of light and energy collided with him, producing an agonized cry and sending the Liberator sailing through the air. Ricocheting off of the invisible walls, Capell landed in a limp pile of metal and flesh against the edge of the engraved platform, completely silent.
"Capell!" Several voices screamed the name in unison, but it was Eugene who reached him first. Aya labored to draw the queen's attention away with attacks that left the Emir blatantly open for a counter attack.
"Eugene?!?" She screeched in alarm as she unleashed Simorgh Zal upon the queen without a care for the faesphere that was drawing so near to her. From across the battlefield Eugene's voice called out "Salvus" and was accompanied by a flash of light witnessed from the corner of Aya's eye. Moments later she discerned Eugene rush past her, his staff drawn as he moved in to assist Kiriya against the third faesphere. Aya took aim at the queen, released her arrows and held her breath.
"Levantine Slash!" Capell's voice rang clearly amidst the din of battle and Aya sagged in relief when he crashed down upon the god, sending the winged form recoiling. "Aya – the faesphere!" The Emir nodded and turned, finding the pitch black orb closing in on her. Capell glanced at the blonde girl and the sultry healer. "Michelle, Rucha, just like before!" Michelle consented silently and backed away, Rucha doing the same – their instructions clear. They were to attack only when it did not drain their reserves – their main roles were to revive the fallen and heal the injured.
A concussion of energy reverberated from across the platform; one of the faespheres disintegrated, Sigmund's sword still completing its arc. Capell returned his focus to the queen, Levantine Slash combined with Eternal Refrain in order to give him reaction time if needed.
The queen was by no means passive; she moved quickly and attacked brutally. Despite the powerful attacks Capell let lose upon her she was able to attack his friends without restraint. Dominica fell, revived, and fell again in the course of a single breath. Capell situated himself between the former mercenary and his nemesis long enough for Rucha to complete the revival process.
With a disdainful frown, the queen dissipated and reappeared directly beside Rucha. Capell roared her name as the queen called out casually "Southern Cross", and the summoner became the next casualty of the queen's cruelty. Her petite frame was tragically small as it lay on the battlefield. From beyond the main fray, Rico bellowed his sister's name.
"Dammit!" Balbagon hefted his axe and met Eugene's eyes. The prime minister set his route for the felled girl, Balbagon intercepting the queen as she materialized in what would have been the perfect position to take out Eugene. "The hell you will!" The giant thundered, Axle Drive knocking the queen back a few paces if not sending her to the ground.
Eugene knelt beside Rucha and with a sharp hand gesture and a quiet word, had the girl back on her feet in moments.
Balbagon grunted and crashed to the ground, the queen's ire at being thwarted turned on him. A glint of metal and an armored body moved in upon their foe; Capell now barely discernable from his father – even to those who knew him well. His face was a hard plane of determination.
Capell's roar echoed in the seemingly vast space and his sword crashed down upon the queen, deflecting the huge scythe she brandished and returning to land another crushing attack. Not once did he attempt to back off, even when Southern Cross was called out again, sending him sailing back only to be revived by Rucha.
Like a man possessed, Capell rose with Rucha's assistance and launched himself at the queen again.
A deep-voiced battle cry called forth and Edward's massive blade joined Capell's; the two fighting side by side. Not even when they were revived from a critical attack did they exercise caution.
It became clear to those around them what their intentions were. So long as they attacked continuously the healers would not be targeted. And as long as the healers stood, the offensive forces could attack as aggressively as they needed. Pain be damned – wounds could be healed and the hurt forgotten with time.
From behind the queen Sigmund emerged, Alfheim slamming the diminutive god against Edward's massive blade, playing her tiny frame in a ferocious game of catch between the swords. They fought like men who had nothing to lose, though in fact it was the exact opposite. Each time they fell there was a very real possibility that they would never rise again. Even with two of their number reserved strictly for healing and reviving the fallen, the queen was cutting them down as quickly as they were restored.
Worse, there was no guarantee how long the power of the Lunaglyphs would last. The queen had stated they were thieving her power – if she weakened to the point where she could no longer sustain her powers, the Force could lose the power of the Lunaglyphs all together. And those who had just fallen would never rise again.
Somewhere beyond the din Balbagon shouted triumphantly, another faesphere crumbled at his axe's blade.
One orb to go, and then there would only be the queen.
Almost sneering from amidst the attacks that were raining down on her, the queen taunted the mortals again about the emptiness of their existence.
A thunderous attack sent all humans near to her sailing back through the air, engulfed in a wall of energy that decimated them all.
Rucha cried out her craft's command, immediately followed by Eugene; Capell and Sigmund rose to their feet once more. Next Edward stood, and Komachi, who had also been downed in the onslaught.
Dominica's voice followed a deafening noise, announcing the last of the faespheres had fallen, and with the exception of the two who already had their instructions, all-out melee was waged on the queen by the Liberation Force.
The Ethereal Queen's attack, Accused, repeatedly fell the close ranged fighters, Southern Cross taking out those who fought from a distance. Eugene voluntarily pulled back from the fighting after a time; for all of her strength of magic, Rucha was struggling beneath the demands of her task to keep her comrades alive. Potions concocted of white berry juice were being gulped down rapidly, restoring the mental energies required to ply a Lunaglyph. The supply was running dangerously low; Rucha realized when she reached for her next dose. Soon there would be none left – they hadn't thought to bring a large supply of the mental stimulants. Without Lunaglyphs the white potions had been brought in order to serve as back-up healing supplies.
Sigmund's sword swept down, Capell's sword arced up, and the queen's head whiplashed violently with the impact of the two blades. Southern Cross swept through Capell, taking him out of the fight and then Vic, who had been standing a hundred paces beyond the Liberator. Eugene and Rucha revived the two instantly.
"You can keep knocking us down," Capell's eyes flashed with an anger barely managed as he pushed himself to his feet, "you can batter us and knock us out, but we'll keep fighting. We won't lose to you!"
A bludgeoning wall of energy rendered him unconscious momentarily, yet after a word from Eugene Capell was pushing himself back to his feet, the same fierce look turned upon the Ethereal Queen. Two quick combination attacks later and the queen faltered upon her luminescent wings, true concern painting her face.
Bright round eyes met Capell's as though seeing him for the first time as the threat he was.
Three more combination attacks. Capell fell beneath Accused, pushing himself to his feet when Rucha called for his return. He cast aside a gauntlet that was mangled beyond use and raised his sword once more.
"Capell," a sweet, airy voice that matched the face quavered from beneath his blade, "don't do this. Don't-"
"Faina's dead," Capell's face was such tenacity it could have been Sigmund's, "and you're losing."
"No Capell…" pained eyes pleaded with him, tears sparkling brightly. "Please, you don't understand," Capell flicked a glance to his father before settling it back onto the queen. From behind Aya's arrows continued to pelt the god, Rico's voice summoning electrical attacks that now had the queen floundering beneath their blows.
"You were right about one thing," The Liberator admitted, "Gabriel did serve a purpose. He nearly destroyed me in more ways that a sword along could do. But I survived, and despite your plans, I came out stronger. Faina and Leif…"
The Emblazoned Sword lowered and stilled, and with it the Liberation Force almost froze, watching their leader incredulously.
"You…" Capell gritted, "… and Veros… are the reason they died. Not me." Red eyes flashed with a fury that was as unnerving to his friends as his father's wrath had been. "YOU!"
White and blue steel swept through the dim light, faster than Capell had ever moved before. The Emblazoned Sword buried itself within the green and white blouse that had once brought out the auburn of Faina's hair.
White wings folded and Faina's imposter melted to the floor in a graceless sprawl.
The impossible had happened.
The queen of the gods was dead.
XXXX
Sigmund's chest heaved as he panted out his exertion, trying to steady his vitals to a normal rhythm. It was quiet once more; Sigmund ears rang with the stillness as his eyes took in his surroundings. The Emblazoned Sword was still lodged within the queen's breast, Capell motionless as he stood above her corpse. There was no trace of remorse in his son's face, only a tired acceptance.
They had slain the queen.
No, Capell had slain the queen. His son had brought down the greatest threat to have ever faced them – and though it should not have been possible, he had lived. Sigmund had stopped believing in miracles many years ago, and yet there Capell stood; a true marvel of living flesh and bone.
So slowly, he could have been within a dream, Sigmund approached the tableau of good's triumph over evil. Around them their fellows were drawing in on one another. Capell raised his eyes from his slain adversary and found his father. It seemed he was trying to smile, though weariness of body and mind weighed too heavily upon the young Liberator to allow the mirth. And yet still he spoke.
"I think," he said slowly, "it's safe to promise you those grandchildren you asked for earlier." The faintest smile tipped the corners of his lips, only to be washed away by unchecked disbelief.
For the first time in twenty years, since the day he had knelt before Svala and pleaded for her aid, tears fell to Sigmund's cheeks.
When Capell had died in Vesplume Tower, Sigmund had remained stoic. When his son had been revived a short time later, the former king had remained equally composed. In both instances he had held onto self-control by habit alone, built up through years of practice. A second skin he had difficulty shedding for anything.
Yet now, seeing Capell standing before him, battered but alive and victorious, Sigmund felt his composure crack and crumble to dust. They should all be dead, and yet they weren't. His son, the boy he had thrown away, had saved them all. Without hesitating to question if it was the right thing to do, Capell had risked his life and soul to protect those he held most dear.
And when the fighting had ended and they had succeeded, Capell had proven that his character was as indomitable as ever.
The emotions of a father overtook Sigmund, stronger than he had ever experienced before.
Capell released his hold on the weapon in hand and turned to him. Concern at his father's reaction painted his features.
"Father-" In two wide steps Sigmund crushed his son to his chest desperately, his fist knotting up in the auburn hair that so resembled his own. With total disregard for those who stood around them, Sigmund buried his face in that hair.
"Never again," he murmured through his tears, "never again will I fear losing you. Do you understand? Never." The head beside his nodded and then pressed against him, and Sigmund felt Capell returned the embrace.
"It's okay, father," Capell choked, "it's okay. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Sigmund's grip tightened at the vow, but Capell ignored the difficulty he was having taking in air.
Breathing seemed so insignificant right now.
Another set of arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and without questioning who it was, Capell reached back and embraced the newcomer, hearing Aya mumble something he couldn't make out against his armor. The crush was soon compounded when Michelle and the twins added themselves to the mix. Friends surrounded the throng, some shouting in triumph, others standing in silent but grateful disbelief. Capell thought he could stay like that forever, until he truly had trouble filling his lungs with air.
"Guys, come on," he said, pushing at Sigmund's shoulder half-heartily, "I can't breathe." Sigmund's arms slacked and he allowed Capell to pull back, the others disbursing a little as well.
"No," Eugene frowned, seemingly out of breath himself, "it's not just you. It's the air. There's something wrong here."
The strange bands of light beyond the great paned windows began to waiver, Capell's gaze rising to the phenomenon. Beneath their feet the echo of their footfalls seemed to change, as though the floor was becoming hollow.
Looking around the room, Capell suddenly had the feeling that the walls were made of paper, capable of blowing away at any moment. Though nothing appeared different the feel of the place was thinning, weakening.
This world was fading away into nothingness.
"We have to go," he said softly, "right now."
XXXX
The warriors sped for the final teleporter, Capell pushing them on without mercy. They sky above was swirling madly; the air becoming thinner and thinner.
All around them beasts that would have normally attacked on sight were stampeding to nowhere in terror, avian creatures crashing to the ground, the thin air unable to support their weight any longer. It had made the trek that much faster without the constant battling, and the journey that had seemed to stretch on for days now passed by in just a fraction of the time.
Their first attempt to flee the Seraphic Gate had failed – within the false Castle Kolton only one of the two teleporters that provided a way out had been accessible. Stone bricks had toppled within the castle walls, blocking the path to the platform that lead back to the real Kolton and exposing a void beyond the building composed purely of colored light. Similar holes were punched into the stairway and floors within the castle, revealing the plane of nothingness beyond that was swallowing up this mimicked world. The Force had been obliged to make a run for the last teleporter out of the Seraphic Gate – the entrance to the gate itself.
The arachnids paid no mind to them as they entered their point of origin, the false Graad Prison. The strange creatures preoccupied with writhing and keening, ignorant of anything but their own imminent demise. The humans had to move carefully despite the urgency of their retreat. Stone pavers had broken free and large gaping holes riddled their only way home. Occasionally brickwork from the ceiling above would crash down, taking out more of the stairway and the occasional spider.
The clatter of boots and sandaled feet bounced up the stone steps, bringing all to a halt atop the circular platform at long last. Climbing the staircase had been excruciating and more than a few doubled over upon the platform, pulling at the air desperately, rasping breaths dragged through pale lips.
Nothing happened.
Vic's eyes widened in panic. "Why? Why… isn't it working?"
"The queen…" Eugene sucked in a gasp, trying to fill his lungs with air, "…held this world together, and the gate to our world open. When she died she ceased feeding this place power. Perhaps the teleporters that lead out of this world... require more power than the ones that take us between planes. Perhaps… there is not enough power left to leave."
Dominica's epithet was followed by a loud crack as her fist met stone of the nearby wall. The woman took defeat as well as she did a dry flask. Rucha and Rico who would have at once time giggled scandalously at the curse now could only stand beside Balbagon; the boy trying to paste his bravest face on while the girl clung to the behemoth man's shirt in fear.
Capell released Aya's hand and fumbled behind his back. His lungs were already burning with the effort of simply breathing air that was no longer enough. Trembling fingers produced Saruleus' flute.
Voices stilled as his friends turned to him expectantly.
He was the Liberator, The Blade of the Unblessed. He had to save them – he would allow no less of himself.
"Please…" his whisper was meant for no one; he held no god dear, and Sigmund was not in some paradise but standing beside him. Yet still he pleaded. "Please let this be enough…"
The flute raised to his lips, his eyes slid closed.
The first notes wavered into the air, beautiful and slow; loving and longing. The sound was faint, Capell's face paling at the effort of using the inadequate air. His head swum dizzily but he pressed on. Shimmering light glowed faintly from the instrument, waxing and waning with the notes Capell played, moving and drifting about his head like thin tendrils of smoke.
This was 'Aya's Smile', the Emir realized; the song that had brought him home. She had always known it was her favorite melody, even though she had never heard a note of it. Now as she listened to the song, heard the emotion behind it, Aya felt the melody speak to her as though it used words. He had wanted her beside him. He had ached for her, for the love that only she could give him. Her smile was his joy, her embrace was his rapture.
Aya no longer knew fear. She forgot that the world around them was disintegrating. She only knew Capell and the emotions that drove him.
The thin tendrils of light were wavering. Capell had spent most of his energies in battle. But Aya did not panic. She moved closer to him, pressing a gentle hand to the back of his neck. When she successfully Connected to him – something they had not attempted since their fight with Veros – she felt how depleted his strength was. Bright eyes turned to her companions, the notes of Capell's song still a comfort to her soul.
"We don't have the Lunaglyphs anymore," she said to her friends, "but we do have power of our own. The power we are born with, not given. Capell needs it now. We have to lend him our strength."
"A multiple Connection?" Edward mused. He didn't know if it was possible, but moved forward anyway. It would have to be by touch now – the Lunaglyphs had faded back to near invisible scars upon their skin only moments after the queen's death. Without the Lunaglyphs, power did not flow from them with the support of magic. Edward placed a hand on Capell's shoulder. Sigmund pushed in beside the dark man and added his own grip. One by one each member of the Force tapped into their inner strength, willing it into Capell. The tendrils of light thickened and widened their range, enveloping each person with its luminescence.
Light flared brightly from beneath their feet, spinning faster and faster as it grew in intensity. The light and notes of Capell's song seemed to cut them off from all other sensation. The air thickened into something that could at last fill their lungs. Deep gasps melded with the music and the light became a blinding radiance turning the world around them to an entirely undefined space of pure white. 'Aya's Smile' filled the blankness and their souls.
Though ground disappeared beneath their feet they did not fall. Time stretched on longer than usual for a teleportation. Moments of suspended in weightless existence at last gave way to the echo of a flute's music against stone walls once more. Light faded and the troupe blinked back their vision.
They stood within Castle Kolton, atop a platform that had gone dark and still.
The music stopped and Capell melted as though boneless, not noticing when the grip of his friends stopped him from colliding with the ground.
XXXX
He blinked and, remembering his last cognizant act, gave in to the sick urge to smile. Nearly a dozen pairs of eyes peered down at him anxiously. He lay on his back atop the platform, his legs stretched out carefully as though his limbs had been arranged for his comfort. He could not have been unconscious long – his friends were still working to catch their breath.
"Geeze, can't a guy even take a nap anymore?" He murmured and Edward stood, guffawing in what should have been disgust had his own grin not slipped free. Aya smiled in relief.
"You always were a lazy-bones." She chided and took the hand her lover stretched out, helping him to his feet.
"I can't believe you fainted," Edward muttered good-humoredly. "Don't tell me-"
Footsteps trouped up the stairs and two dozen pikemen appeared, weapons drawn and trained on them. Quickly Capell placed himself between the soldiers and his friends on the chance the soldiers suspected the Liberation Force had gone mad, too.
"Stand down," The Liberator slipped easily into that air of authority that had taken him so long to perfect, "the threat is gone. Our world, including Kolton, is safe."
It took a moment but the soldiers complied; the man at the fore breaking his intimidating appearance with a relieved smile.
"We never doubted you for a moment, Lord Capell." He said with a wide smile which hinted there were others who had not shared his faith.
XXXX
Try as he might, he could not bring himself to sit and be patient. Yet again he stood and walked to the city entryway, studying the path beyond. Yet again there was no sign of anyone approaching the great city. He managed to swallow back the sigh that threatened to escape, but forgot to smooth away the frown that marred his features.
The expression did not go unnoticed, and from his place beside a nearby wall, Genma smiled.
It had been more than two years; some illogical part within him experienced a deep sense of loss at the thought. Over two years since he had last spoken to them. Though it did not feel as though so much time has passed to him, Touma wondered how different their lives had become in his absence. But then to hear that, despite the absence of Lunaglyphs, they had dashed off to save the world once more – it seemed so like his comrades that he could not imagine they had changed much after all. The thought gave him hope that the friendship he had shared with his fellows could be rekindled.
Touma straightened his posture and strolled casually to the entryway once more, trying to will himself to that state of calm he used to be able to attain without effort. It had once been so simple, to explain away emotion and find the calm center within. It seemed the Lunaglyphs had been the cause of that, for try as he might now, he could not stave off the feelings that churned his insides and stirred every thought within his head. In an effort to find distraction Touma turned back to the pathway into the Timberlands.
News had spread to Halgita quickly of the Liberation Force's victory in the Seraphic Gate. Once more the heroes of humanity rose up in defiance of those that would enslave or destroy all that humanity held dear. Stories of two gods, more powerful and cunning than Veros, were already circulating; some clearly the work of overactive imaginations while others cast his friends in such an accurate light they could not be fiction. Those stories gave Touma the most cause for concern, for a few among them told of the Liberator's death, and then his revival at the hands of Savio's prodigy. That they had struggled against forces powerful enough to kill Capell…
Though no story depicted the permanent death of any among his former entourage, Touma could not quell his nerves until he laid eyes on his friends personally.
Genma had been prudent enough to send away the attendants and servants who had come to the city gates. To placate the people, a welcoming celebration had been planned for tomorrow – in order to give the returning heroes a chance to rest upon their return rather than being flung into duty immediately.
Touma's pacing and silent musings ceased when his eyes rose next. From deep within the forest, a group of people he knew all too well came into view from amidst the trees. His youthful face split into a child-like grin and without a word he rushed through the great portal and down the pathway to his friends.
"Hey!" A voice that could only be Capell's chimed loudly from further up the road, "Hey! It's Touma!" Murmurs and shouts followed Capell's announcement, some whooping Touma's name and bringing a flutter of joy to his chest. But only one of the figures broke ahead of the others, Komachi's ebony hair and light steps making her seem to be a dark ghost as she floated toward him.
"L-Lord Touma!" She gasped when she reached him at last, ahead of the others who had seemed to hang back slight, only just breaking into a run themselves. "You have awakened!"
"Some weeks ago, yes." Touma replied, his smile wide and earnest. "I am pleased to see you are unharmed. I was told of your latest encounter, and regret that I could not be there by your side."
The warrior woman's head shook slowly, and Touma knew an uncomfortable sensation as it spread through his middle. But as he watched, his former subordinate's eyes filled.
"I have waited for this moment…" she breathed, "watched over you as you slept. I was so afraid that I would never see the day…"
"Genma did not tell me that you watched over me," Touma replied, "I never wished for duty to bind you to me during my sleep."
"No, My Lord," Komachi shook her head more urgently, "it was not of duty. I wanted to be by your side. I hoped every day to see you stir. I wanted to be the first to see you reawaken."
"You… you waited for me?" From beyond the warrior woman's shoulder the Liberator drew up to the pair. He paused only for a moment before slowly walking on.
"Hey, uh, we'll meet you guys inside, okay? Don't take too long Touma – we have a lot to catch up on!" Capell smiled awkwardly. As he lead the Force by, he leaned in close and breathed faintly into the meek woman's ear. "If you never say it, you'll never know." She blinked and nearly jumped, but Capell never broke his step, and shrugged. "Just something I learned along the way." He called candidly as he continued down the path, giving the former aristo a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed. It was a lesson he had learned well – from Aya and Sigmund – and one he was happy to pass on now.
"Is it strange… to be without your great power?" Komachi glanced at her feet and Touma found himself wondering why she seemed so nervous. Her reaction to him was beginning to influence him similarly, which was even more disconcerting. Yet she had chosen to engage in conversation instead of leaving, so he complied.
"In all honesty I cannot recall what it felt like to be an aristo. I recall certain aspects. The serenity, the incantations, yet if you ask me what it felt like to harbor that much power I cannot say. Strange, but it must be for the best." He tilted his head, attempting to gain a clear view of her face. "You seem troubled Komachi. You say you are happy to see me, but you do not seem to be so. Might I pry and ask what is troubling you?"
"I…" he watched as she mustered up courage – it was an act he recognized well. Komachi's strength came not from a lack of fear, but from her ability to act appropriately while experiencing that fear. It was something he had always valued in her. "I missed you, My Lord… terribly."
"I am flattered, Komachi," he replied with a smile, his anxiety quieting, "it does my heart well to-"
"No My Lord, you do not understand." Her eyes squinted closed for a moment at being bold enough to interrupt, before relaxing her features once more, seemingly watching Touma's knees intently. "In my cowardice I could only speak to you as you slept. I have confided in you many times of late, though you would not remember. But… I cannot hope for change if I remain stagnant myself.
"My Lord… my… my… my heart is yours. You may not have known it, but the moment I came to your side, you have possess not only my devotion, but my affection, and have held it fast ever since."
Touma watched her for a moment, uncertain of what he had heard. "Do you speak of love, Komachi?" The woman nodded.
Touma felt light. Lighter than he had felt in… he could not remember. The feeling of elation had sent his stomach twisting when Komachi had first come into view compounded in an instant. It was not at all unpleasant, though it was disorientating to say the least.
Love. It had been a concept that had eluded him as an aristo – very few aristos had been capable of fully expressing the emotion, of experiencing it the way others could, while maintaining their grasp on reason. And yet now, without that accursed logic interfering, Touma was at last able to understand the complex emotion that drove the rest of humanity. He could not imagine how he had been able to explain away to feeling of love as an aristo. Though it turned rational thought upside down, it made life seem so much richer, more satisfying.
Had he loved Komachi all of this time and simply been too logical to know what it was he felt? How had that been possible?
Touma decided that processing these questions was no longer relevant. He decided to not waste another day; another moment.
"Komachi, I will cherish the gift of your heart for all time if you would do me the courtesy of accepting mine in its stead." The pretty face opposite him seemed to glow from within. Whatever fear had filled her face melted away before he could register that it was gone.
"My Lord?" It was the faintest whisper, but it said so much. He moved carefully, taking her hands into his. He had seen men courting women make the gesture and it always seemed to be appreciated by the lady.
"Touma," he corrected gently, taking a step closer to her. Komachi nodded.
"Touma," she murmured.
"Your pardon, Komachi," in such close proximity it seemed inappropriate to raise his voice to anything beyond a whisper, "I have never…" she seemed to understand what he was attempting to say.
"Nor have I."
"Then…" he moved in closer and the sweet scent of her hair met him – he had only once been this close to the fair warrior before – and then she had been crying. He could feel her breath upon his face now, could feel the heat of her even in the tropical Halgitian climate. "Then we shall learn together."
The two Nightwhisperers seemed to have forgotten their promise not to dawdle. Neither was aware of anything around them; most certainly not of the troupe of onlookers watching from the city entrance. When Touma at last closed the distance between Komachi and himself and met her lips for the first time, bemused smiles found the faces of most of their friends.
"Took him long enough," Vic grunted from against the door frame and Capell chuckled.
"I'll say."
XXXX
With nearly reverent hands, he placed the circlet upon the crimson tunic, folded atop the suit of armor that had been mended and polished to a gleaming shine. With a final long look, Sigmund closed the lid to the cedar chest, flipping the catches closed and locking away a part of his past he would always hold dear. The tunic and trousers he wore in its place were fine enough for a man of his political stature, just shy of the kingly robes he had once worn.
The cloak, sash and other regalia assigned to his fine clothes were left ignored on the bed. The medals and accessories of nobility were quite formal and proud, and presently he did not wish to emulate any of those qualities.
He had made a promise, he thought as he exited his assigned suite within Fayal's palace, and he was going to try.
The royal family of Cassandra was temporarily residing in Fayal until such time as the kingdom's restoration was completed and the castle habitable once more. Though Kolton or Halgita would have served well for their close proximity to Cassandra, it seemed only fitting that the homeland of Cassandra's future queen play host. It also made sense as arrangements had to be made to see to the governing of the two kingdoms once their rulers were married. It was the only reason Capell and Aya were still waiting to make their vows – though they had recently taken to warning their courts that they would not wait much longer.
And so Sigmund was given free reign of the castle, and required no escort or permission as he made his way to the Emir's personal suite.
It did his heart good to hear music playing from behind the closed door. Capell's flute always bespoke his mood, and at present a very lively and jovial song was muffled by the thick wood and embossment. At a brisk rap of his knuckles, Sigmund heard Aya's voice call for him to come in.
Sigmund entered to find Aya swatting at Edward's arm, trying her best to scowl at him.
"You're not even trying!" Edward was clearly receiving a lecture from the resistant set of his jaw. "If you don't put some effort into it you'll never learn in time for the wedding – and what sort of man doesn't dance at his friends' wedding? How is it you've spent your entire life at court and you can't complete once successful step of any dance?"
"I guess some of us spent our time learning practical lessons," Edward's emphasis on the adjective spoke very clearly of his opinion on dancing. Aya succeeded in deepening her frown.
"Honestly, I don't see how you plan on attracting your future queen if you can't even dance a something as basic as-"
"Who said anything about finding me a queen?!"
"Well you're going to have to eventually, right? And what woman wants a man who doesn't know how to dance with her?"
Edward turned to Capell. The Cassandran King raised his hands defensively.
"No help here. I know how to dance," he chuckled, "I had to learn as a wandering musician." Blue-black eyes rose pleadingly to the newcomer.
"Lord Sigmund, add some reason to this nonsense, please!"
"I am afraid Aya makes a valid argument. A man of court should be able to revel with his guests when the occasion calls for it."
"You can dance?" Capell's dubiousness caused Sigmund to arch a brow.
"You seem surprised."
"More like unconvinced." Capell ribbed.
"Very well. Play something."
Capell grinned and raised his flute to his lips. At the first note of the exciting tune he had been playing earlier Sigmund held out his hand to Aya. When the woman nearly squeaked out "Me?" he smiled – something he had been making a conscious effort to do every day.
Because he had promised.
"This is a dance for partners."
Aya's smile became a chuckle, though a hot blush still colored her cheeks. "Of course."
Taking Sigmund's hand, she was immediately swept into the steps of the lively dance. Sigmund moved with the grace and confidence that seemed to cloak him permanently, though now he his movements seemed lighter, less burdened. As they danced and twirled Aya's laughter speckled the song.
Capell gave a low whistle of appreciation and surprise once he lowered the instrument, and Sigmund bowed formally to his future daughter-in-law.
With a brisk pivot, the elder Cassandran faced Edward once more. "It is far simpler than you are making it out to be."
"There was nothing simple about that dance." Edward countered and Sigmund cocked his head slightly at the persistence the younger displayed.
"Very well. Then it will simply be necessary to find a lady who cares little for dancing."
"Excuse me?" Edward's jaw fell open slightly and Capell nearly chuckled. "I still don't understand; how did this conversation turn into finding me a queen?"
"Dominica doesn't dance." The New Liberator mused with false thoughtfulness, ignoring his friend's protests. Edward fumed. Aya pretended to give the suggestion serious thought.
"But can you picture Dominica in a gown?" She asked and Capell failed miserable at holding back a snort of amusement. "What about Gina?" Aya suggested as though trying to help. "There's no law that says you have to marry nobility."
"Gina's as charming as a Drogo!" Edward's cheeks reddened in frustration at being the butt of a joke.
Sigmund frowned pensively at Aya and Capell, wiping the smirks from their faces as they noticed his expression. It occurred to him that they were expecting an admonishment.
Yet he had made a promise to Capell.
It had been so long… what would they…
A though came to mind and Sigmund acted before he could analyze it away.
"I was simply speculating," he said slowly, "that Vic is familiar with proper court etiquette even if she does not yet practice it, has never danced a step in her life, is accustomed to Edward's temperament and is of proper courtship age." The room fell into complete silence as the three rulers took in Sigmund's words. Edward's eyes nearly rolled from their sockets at the suggestion. Aya's mouth began to twist in a horrendous effort at holding back hysterics.
"Wait-" Capell spluttered, nearly as dumbfounded as his friend, "Vic… but he… Vic's a girl?!" Heads pivoted to stare at Capell in disbelief who matched gazes with everyone, wide-eyed and bewildered.
A true smile of amusement spread over Sigmund's face after a moment, a chuckle rumbled low and quiet in his chest, growing louder to the amazement of the others.
And then, for the first time in decades, Sigmund shed his emotional armor and abandoned himself to open laughter.
Not because he had promised.
Because he had a son.
Fin
XXXX
A/N
So if you read any of my other stories, you'll notice there is a bittersweet theme to all of them. In my Naruto stories people were dying left and right.
Here I wanted to do something different – so I let everyone live. I know a lot of you were asking me to kill people off – but this was a story of firsts for me and I wanted to write my first real happy ending. I also want to see Sigmund experience a lighter mood again – he'd been happy in his life once upon a time, and I wanted to show that his life would be happy again. Finding a way to make Sigmund laugh had been a trial for me – seriously, the man had barely smiled in twenty years! How the hell did I did I expect to pull THAT off??? Delusions of grandeur or something. Luckily Yami's idea saved me. Thanks Yami!!!
Thanks also to Reaper's Shadow, for proofing this chapter in order to kill the paranoia fairy that screamed I was missing something. To Metal-Maiko, whose "borrowed" muse helped me start this story in the first place; and to Adolthered, Natalie, satan966, Syeriox and all of the other fantastic readers who were kind enough to feed my review addiction and voice their opinions and encouragement. Thanks everyone!!
I'm thinking of doing a prequel to I.U. eventually. I'm kicking it around, since the only character that was given a real background was Sigmund – and that always bugged me. Not sure when I'll start it – I don't even have a plot yet…
I hope you enjoyed reading this. And I hope you'll come back and read some of my other works.
Peace!