In a twist of both fortune and sadness, it had been a long while since a memorial service was held in memory of a fallen troop; on the unfortunate side of things, the service was to be held for Silas, confirmed dead. Corrin was stricken with immense grief for the longest of times, but had yet to order the funeral to be held; he commanded it should not be started until the day Nyx awoke, believing that it was she that deserved to attend the most.
The only thing was, Nyx had not awoken for a very, very long time. Weeks flew by, each having her resting in the exact same position as the week before. Felicia checked on her often, daring to attempt to rouse her with a damp cloth over her forehead; each try left her barren of favorable results, seeing that Nyx did not budge.
Many strayed from her tent, the tent which was a bit secluded from camp; heck, they avoided it like the plague, fearsome of the power she displayed so long ago. Her only two visitors, one of them being Felicia as mentioned before, came rarely due to work. Corrin was too overwhelmed to check on her as much as he liked to. When he did, however, he would carefully push open the entrance, then sit next to her as he closely observed her resting face.
She was still, her chest rising and falling slowly, her face feverishly red. When he set a hand over to check her temperature, though, she felt perfectly normal. Sometimes, when he was feeling scared for her wellbeing, he would talk to her, hoping she would answer through her sleep. It wasn't too much longer until he began to wonder if her eyes would ever slide open, her lips uttering forth words.
Perhaps, he considered, it was for the better should that be the case.
But such was not the case; one dark night, when Felicia brought a cup of water inside the tent, Nyx would awaken at last. Felicia, careful, gently opened the girl's mouth, bringing the brim of the glass to her lips. As she poured the water inside, something went wrong. Nyx broke out into a fit of coughs, her eyes snapping open as her hand bolted to the woman's shoulder, gripping it tightly. Frightened, Felicia threw herself back, watching as Nyx brought herself up, clutching her chest as she continued to hack.
What the hacking stopped, there came from her a blood curdling screech.
"M-Miss Nyx! Please, clam down!" exclaimed the maid, lunging towards her in hopes of catching her. "Clam down! Please, oh please, calm down!"
But Nyx did not stop; with what little strength that remained within her, she tried to struggle out of the arms wrapped around her, calling, yelling, exclaiming. The battle went on for a while, Nyx making no progress against the clearly stronger Felicia. At long last, she gave in, falling into the embrace, allowing tears to stream down her cheek, her lips releasing somber wails. Her hands, small, raised up to her face; she sat still, weeping.
The most she could say was one statement:
"His heart has stopped."
The memorial went on without issues; along with Shigure, Azura sang a peaceful song, soft and sweet, at the very beginning. Through out the entire service, Nyx sat at the front, alone, covered in black clothing. Her expression did not change once, though sorrow was more than evident her eyes. A frown stayed plastered on her lips.
She had to remind herself; she was now a widow.
Of course, she was the only who remained when the service had ended. She stood over him, watching as he rested, her eyes softening. Gentle, she ran her hand over his cheek one last time, feeling bitterness well in her chest; had one not approached her, she may have succumbed to it.
To her surprise, Corrin set his hand on her shoulder from behind, making his way to her side. Though started for a moment, she remained relaxed, her eyes refusing to leave what they had fixed themselves upon.
"It's nice to see you awake again." he murmured.
"Pardon my solemn tone, but I believe it would have done me better had I never woken up."
The boy's gaze dulled, his frown arching deeper as he turned away.
"I loved Silas too, Nyx... He was a very good friend of mine. He was a friend far better than anything I deserved. As sad as I am to see him like this... I know that this too shall pass. I need to move, not forgetting him, but living on in acceptance. Perhaps we should try to get past this together."
Somewhat roughly, she took his hand off her shoulder and dropped it. Quiet, she closed her eyes, her frown deepening.
"I understand." she whispered. "But he is not the only thing I am somber for... The last thing I remember before blacking out was fire, surrounded by it, afraid it would consume me, even when I was already consumed by rage." she looked at her palm, little as can be. "Ages ago, in the cockiness of my youth, I tried the casting the exact same spell; you could say I took a bite far bigger than I could chew... Believing I could cast something so extreme at such an inexperienced age just because I displayed talent... I was so foolish." at long last, she turned to him. "What you saw on that battlefield is the very reason why I am cursed, and after using it again, even so many years later, I still may not have been experienced enough to truly be ready to wield it. I fear I may have cursed myself further due to my foolishness once again; I succumbed to my anger, making such impulsive actions."
Quiet, Corrin observed her, taking in the smallness of her form with a frown.
"It's fine, I'm sure... We all make mistakes, regardless of how long we've been around, right?"
"I don't think you understand." she grumbled. "Curses doesn't care whether I'm a mistake-prone mortal or not. Neither does the indelibleness of its nature." she sighed. "In short, child. I believe I have condemned myself to have many miserable years more ahead of me; that is, of course, if I'm not killed sometime sooner or later."
"Don't say those things." Corrin's brows furrowed, his fists clenching. "I promise you; there is so much more to life if you open yourself to it; I promise."
Nyx was still, gazing at him, and before his very eyes, he saw tears well at the brim of her eye lids. She reached up, barely able to run her fingers over his cheek.
"You and Silas... So very much alike. He said those sorts of things all the time..." her hand slid down slowly, landing on the thigh of her right leg. "The carefree bliss of youth... How I'd love to have it again... But with it comes the expense of wisdom, replaced by the foolishness of a child. The audacity and the vanity... It's too big of a price. When I say these things, young one, I say them with years of experience to back them. No pattern is new to me. If you are truly wise for your age, you would not argue with your elders."
"I do argue." he said quickly. "I've seen so many lives wrecked by disaster, but reconciliation has always extended its hand to them; those who are happy today are the ones that willingly took it. If you don't believe me, talk with Mozu; she was the only surviving member of her village when a gang of Faceless attacked. Have you seen her? There hasn't been a day when I haven't seen her smile!"
Nyx, listening to him, gave him a slight nod, eventually turning herself around as if she was prepared to walk away.
"I'm happy for her." she said. "But every walk of life differs from the other; I too have seen death, Corrin. Not just death, abandonment. Perhaps one of these days I'll tell you everything about myself as I told Silas... Assuming you'll receive such information with open arms."
"I know your story already." Corrin retorted. "You and Gunter have told me plenty for me to piece it together."
"Oh? Recite it then."
"You were born into a family of talented mages, showing more promise than any of them. You received all the attention and glory, but in attempt to get even more of what you already had so much of, you casted a spell far beyond even the greatest of a master's league. The result had the spell backfire, accidentally destroying an entire town and laying a curse on yourself. Your family disowned you after that, and you lived many of your years hence in the shadows."
He saw a smile creep across her face, making his chest burn; it was a bittersweet sort of smile, not necessarily mocking him, nor mocking herself. In doing so, she slowly shook her head, the black veil covering her face swishing back and forth.
"Wouldn't that be nice." she murmured. "Don't assume that's all there is to it; there are many things I wouldn't dare tell others I barely know. There is far more detail... Darker detail... Of how truly foolish I was." she stared at him, her face grim. "You wouldn't think I would call myself a monster just because I made a earnest mistake, would you? I am cursed for the wicked things I have done, things I cannot redeem myself for; I believe what has happened just recently is another way my decisions have torn my life apart so many years later... My dear Silas, taken down by a javelin... I suppose it's what I ultimately deserve."
It was with that, she walked away, leaving Corrin alone with his best friend.
Hence, Nyx had been rather secluded, avoiding crowds, even individuals, when she had the chance. Not many saw much of her, some even speculating she had ran away- perhaps even died. That, however, was simply not the truth. She fancied vacant areas like alleys or distant fields, seldom returning to the center of camp; never did she decide to go back inside her tent, thus, for those at sought her, it was difficult to locate her.
When it was mealtime, when the mess hall was full, she would be absent, leaving the room a chair short of being completely maximized. Like always, though, it did not take away to how noisy it was. Aware of her vague patterns, Corrin always requested that whoever was on kitchen duty left a plate out; Nyx would arrive as soon as the hall cleared to take her meals.
When the girls went to the bath, she was not there to join them. Amongst the lot, there were mixed feelings regarding her absence; some could care less without noticing a difference, others were surprised to see how the tone in the room changed when a head was missing and nothing more, the rest, a dwindling number, felt vacant, almost disappointed that the wisdom which held order lingered no more. People wondered if she had become a hermit, refusing to wash and eat, but in all actuality, she snuck in when the moon had risen and tents were occupied by sleeping bodies, bathing alone so long as another late-night washer had not beaten her there.
The only time her face was shown to others was when she had duty at the accessory shop, which was rarely visited anyhow. She spent her working days reading, memorizing tomes as she always had; for the first time in a while, she had not picked up a romance novel, the sort of fiction she had gobbled up since youth. It was a somber sort of thing, as if she as a unique individual was slowly eroding away, being replaced by a machine simply preparing for war.
Of course, that was because, after the war was won, she had plans she was ready to put into action.
One day at work, though, Nyx was in for a surprise customer; the door opened, causing her back to straighten over the counter she once leaned over. It had been such a long time since a customer had come in, she had forgotten how to greet. However, in her defense, even if she did recall how to properly greet a customer into the store, she may not have known how to greet this customer anyway.
Enter the clinking of armor worn by the body of a tall, but very old, man. A scar ran across his face from a skirmish ages ago, a frown on his lips. Upon taking notice of her at the counter, his eyes widened in surprise.
"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he said plainly.
"Hello Gunter." she replied, closing her tome. "I assume you need something?"
"Certainly; Lord Corrin's birthday is fast approaching. I wanted to buy him a gift from here... Of course, as soon as I converse with you. I haven't laid eyes on you in ages it feels; do you have any idea how unhealthy it is to hide from others for so long? And I see that you are still wearing the same clothes you wore to the memorial... Why so?"
She narrowed her eyes, propping her chin on a fist as she leaned back over the counter.
"I'm a woman in mourning. Don't you have any respect for that? I don't like to talk about it now, so if you have business here I suggest you make it now or I'm closing shop early."
"Hear now, I know you cannot close shop whenever you like." the elder approached the counter, leaning against it gently. "You're acting as though I never have any duties around the castle; silly, you're wrong I'm afraid. So now, why not chat into an ear that is concerned?"
"What did I just get through telling you? I'm not in the mood to talk."
"You've gone quite a while without talking recently, I'm sure." piped the old man. "I would imagine you're dying to spit out some words by now. It's not safe to bottle everything inside you."
"I've gone much longer." she challenged. "And I can easily do it again. Last time; do you want to make business or are you done? I'm going in the back of the store if the latter is so since you won't quit pestering me."
Gunter paused, observing her with that tired old face of his. They spent a while staring at one another in the silence of the shop. At last, he rose, popping his back with a groan.
"A shame I call it..." he said. "I once considered you reasonable in terms of sharing the things that stressed you to relieve yourself. Please, get me a circlet like yours for Lord Corrin. I'm quite sure it would look good on him."
Without a word, Nyx turned away, hopping off the stool which allowed her to see above the counter. She wandered around the shop, digging through crate after crate before finally pulling out what was requested of her. As she walked back to the counter, she gave him a cold stare.
"Just so you know, Gunter, I am good at sharing the things that stress me; but the one person I knew could give me the comfort I needed in return is dead now." as they exchanged, the circlet for currency, she sighed. "And a friendly word of advice; don't go around thinking you have everybody figured out. If I had the time to tell you all the calamity assumption has put me in..."