While You Were Sleeping
I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.
(Apologizing)
"Wake up, milord."
The grip this woman had on Azel's arm wasn't especially gentle. Neither was the tone of voice she used, in spite of the formal address.
"Huh?"
But now that he was awake and sitting up, the servant was going about her business almost as though he, Azel, were part of the tatty furniture.
"Some of you crusaders aren't any better than Prince Julius and his lot," she was saying as she brushed up some ashes from the carpet at his feet. "Ordering things from the kitchen at all hours, breaking the bed slats, running about in the gardens with no clothes on, boys doing things to one another in the baths. And the one who drinks all night in his room! And now there's you trying to burn the place down in your carelessness."
Azel had long ago gotten used to hearing the monologues of servants, who let him hear the things they would've liked to say to Lord Brother and other more illustrious nobles. But something about this particular monologue struck him as terribly familiar...
"Min?"
"Milord?"
"Min, it's me. Azel."
He was sure of it. Though her ruffled dark hair had gone all gray at the front and her face was sunken and sallow, he felt for certain that he recognized her keen dark eyes and her voice. She'd been his mother's best friend among the servants of House Velthomer, and the part of Azel still tied by some chain to Arvis felt relieved that, for whatever reason, Arvis had brought Min to Belhalla and somehow kept her safe.
"Lord Azel's been dead and gone for almost as long as you've been alive, young man," she said now, and Azel could hear as much hurt in her voice as there was annoyance.
He pulled up his sleeve to show a triangular scar on his left wrist, left by a long-ago attempt to play with a lion cub in the menagerie. Arvis wouldn't let it be healed through magic, as he said Azel must need a reminder to pay more heed to the order of things in the world. Min remembered the scar, though- she'd helped his mother to bind that injured wrist.
"Lord Azel, how can this be?
"Magic." It was the only explanation he had, after all.
Azel wasn't sure what he expected from Min now- cosseting and a handful of sweets? A silly little story to keep him amused and quiet? Whatever it was, he didn't get it; her sallow cheeks went pale and she finished her work in a hurry before bowing out.
"I'm sorry, Min," he said, too late. "You might've been better off never knowing that."
-x-
Three days passed, with Belhalla in a state of perpetual celebration for all that the servants were beginning to be cross about the sort of people holy crusaders were when not out crusading. Prince Seliph spent most of his time working behind closed doors with Lewyn, and Oifaye and Shanan got called into these proceedings often enough that nobody had time to dilly-dally in Azel's company. By now, Azel had pretty much resigned himself to his new status as one of "the kids," and he got by. Twice he met Tinny for tea, once with Julia and once with just the two of them, and while the get-togethers were pleasant they didn't recapture the strange intimacy of the chat in Tinny's bedroom.
Besides, of the two girls, Julia seemed more cordial toward him.
"How's it going, Azel?"
Azel saw no reason to sugar-coat his words around Lewyn.
"Tiltyu's been dead for years, there's no way I can get her back, and my kids don't know me and don't seem to like me very much."
"Things like this happen."
"Yeah... I heard about Fury. I'm sorry, Lewyn." He'd heard enough about Lewyn, Fury, and their children to wonder why he was even going to the bard for sympathy. "And I just don't know what to do about Arthur. His entire attitude has just been, 'Oh good, you're not dead, YOU deal with ruling Velthomer.'"
"Look. You want to talk to him, and he's willing to talk to you."
"Yeah."
"Like I told you, these things happened to just about everyone. Finn and his boy Delmud didn't even exchange a word for the better part of a year after they first saw one another. Del's a good kid, but it wasn't until Finn nearly got himself torn to pieces by the Weiss Ritter that they decided they had anything to say." Lewyn shrugged, a gesture that brought back the image of the devil-may-care young bard from Azel's memories. "I don't think it'll take that much for you to deal with Arthur. For one, being left for dead in a glass box is a better excuse for not sending your kid a note on his birthday than being up and around and doing other things the entire time."
"I don't think Arthur cares about that. He knows I wasn't there when the soldiers came for Tiltyu, and I think that's enough. More than enough." Even as he spoke, the root cause of his dissatisfaction with finding himself alive became clear to Azel, and he spilled out this epiphany to Lewyn without even thinking it through. "I wanted to give my kids a better life than what I had, and I actually managed to give them something worse."
Arvis might not have been the warmest or most reassuring presence in his life, and sometimes he did things that caused Azel hurt, but overall he'd been an improvement over everything Azel had heard of their father Viktor. Julia had nothing but good things to say about her father, so maybe Arvis had learned from whatever mistakes got made in raising Azel. But Azel couldn't claim credit for anything, really. Tiltyu died horribly and Hilda saw to it that Tinny suffered for years under her "care" at Alster. And as much guilt as Azel felt over what'd happened to Tinny, he at least felt he could relate to her experience of being the charity child in Blume's court. The idea of Arthur's solitary, hardscrabble existence filled Azel with outright horror, as it was beyond anything he could really envision.
"Wanting the best for your children doesn't ennoble you on its own, Azel. Take your late and unlamented brother-in-law- he wanted a better world for his two kids. Well, we're in in that better world, and part of the trade-off is that Ishtore and Ishtar are dead."
Azel stared into Lewyn's icy green eyes. Bard, king, wanderer, holy man- what was he, really?
"Don't come around to anyone with your complaints, Azel. No one here wants to hear it. And don't go asking anyone why, either- if you ever get a reason, you won't like it. I can promise you that."
It was his childhood all over again, all of it. He was always wrong. His existence was wrong. He made everyone unhappy. And there was never any good answer if he dared to ask why.
-x-
Azel remembered hearing somewhere that the cathedral of Belhalla came first- Saint Heim's expression of gratitude for the gods who gave them a miracle at Darna. The cathedral came first, and then the palace-fortress rose around it.
He didn't go there to seek peace from the gods. Azel had feared the gods, dreaded them really, without ever loving them. Certainly he dreaded Vala, who after all had chosen Arvis and their father Viktor to be her successors on the earth, and Azel never felt any better about stern Saint Heim or valiant Baldur, and even they weren't nearly as frightening as some of the others. He still felt that old pang of unease in his gut when he looked at their statues, their pictures, their images in stained-glass. Crusader Nova, with her tragic dark eyes turned toward the heavens and blood dripping down from the head of her lance, Black Knight Hezul with his demon sword in hand, as terrifying now as when Azel was a child and the idea of Hezul stalking the earth gave him nightmares...
He sat in a pew in the middle of the nave, staring down these ancient windows and all their memories, until the colored shapes cast by the stained-glass stretched out far upon the floor and crept up the opposite wall. It was quiet there, or at least no one bothered him, until just before sundown when the great gilded doors behind him creaked open. A small procession came down the aisle, led by the young priest from Seliph's army; Azel realized it was Prince Leif, his sister Altena, and those closest to them coming in for evening prayers. He might've gone to stand with them and probably should've, but instead of moving to the front of the cathedral by the altar Azel hunched down in the pew where he already sat with his hands clasped in his lap.
Corple the priest couldn't have been more than twelve years old- maybe thirteen- but he had a book of Scripture in one hand an a shepherd's staff in the other, and he sang the service in a clear, solemn voice. Azel knew the evening prayer, sort of; Crusader Bragi penned it back in the darkest days of the last holy war, and the rest of the Twelve spread it far beyond Bragi's own church of Edda. Azel remembered holy days in the ducal chapel of Velthomer, with a hundred tapers burning by the altar and a choir of twelve youths and twelve maidens singing up in the loft. The Thracians did things a bit differently; for one thing they kept standing through the whole service, but besides that Azel counted just three candles and the music wasn't anything he was used to- no choir with beautiful harmonies, just this stark, eerie chant with everyone echoing the words of the priest.
Blessed One, Mighty One, Undying One, have mercy upon us
have mercy upon us
Glory to Your name now and ever
now and ever
Unto the Ages of Ages...
There was so much repetition in the chant that Azel might have joined in, mouthing the words and making the sign of the cross when the others did, but he stayed where he was, just listening to the strangeness of the sound. He wasn't sure if it was a terrible sound or not, but he thought he recalled it from somewhere, and after a while Azel remembered that he'd gone to church with Quan and Ethlyn one night in Silesse because it seemed like the right thing to do. The next day, they went home to Leonster to round up the reinforcements that never came.
Under the
under the
Power of
power of
Azel stared into the flame of the largest candle, stained red by the glass of the candle-holder. He remembered that the colors of the candlelight stood for certain things, that red and blue and green and violet all meant something, but he didn't know what they meant any more. Lost in the sound and the flickering light, Azel only realized the prayers were over when Corple put out the candles and put his incense-burner away. Then Corple retreated to the sanctuary to do whatever it was priests did after prayers and everyone else began to file down the aisle- Leif escorting his wife Nanna, and Altena leaning on the arm of her long-bearded general, and Finn coming a few paces behind them. As Finn walked past the pew where Azel was hiding, Azel called out as loudly as he dared. Finn halted at once.
"Yes, Lord Azel?"
"D'you mind if we talk for a moment?" Azel scooted out of the pew so they could talk like equals. It might not work, but he was going to try. "I get the feeling you're angry at me, and I don't know what it was I did, or when, but I'm hoping we can get that behind us. I really don't want to start off this new era with an enemy."
Especially not an enemy whose son-in-law controlled all of Thracia and its massive army. Azel might not have designs on ruling Velthomer, but he had the political sense to recognize that bad blood between Thracia's governing house and Grannvale was something the world didn't need.
"I apologize if I've caused any offense to you, Lord Azel," Finn said, and Azel mentally kicked himself for even imagining he'd get an unguarded answer out of the other man. But since he, as the mighty lord of Velthomer, had started this conversation, Azel decided to keep on digging himself into another pit.
"You haven't offended me. I feel that I've somehow upset you, and whether it was last week or twenty years ago, I'd like to clear it up."
"Ah..." Finn always had kept his hands perfectly still while he talked, not making any gestures that might be misinterpreted by a superior; now the stillness and the lack of feeling in his voice made Azel feel that he was conversing with a statue. "I confess that I was disappointed to find you alone in the catacombs. That disappointment may have colored my judgment these last few days."
"Um... what?"
"In Thracia, we encountered followers of Loptyr who would petrify their victims, turning them into stone. We heard rumors that others, including captives of Sir Sigurd's war taken at Belhalla, had likewise been turned and used to adorn the shrine at Yied, this palace, and elsewhere. I had reason to believe Raquesis might be among them, but of course she wasn't. You were the only one we found."
"Oh." Azel wasn't sure what he thought Finn's explanation might be, but he definitely wasn't expecting that. "Finn, Raquesis wasn't turned to stone or put to sleep. She's imprisoned in Silvail right now."
The words weren't fully out of Azel's mouth before he realized that maybe he hadn't been meant to share that information. But he couldn't take those words back, and instead watched as Finn absorbed their import. Azel wondered if his own eyes had looked like that when Lewyn had tossed off the callous admission that Tiltyu hadn't survived.
"Did you get that information from Lewyn?"
"Yeah. I guess he hadn't got around to... look, he said she's been there for seven years, so he probably figured a couple more weeks wouldn't make a difference."
On second thought, Azel probably could have found a better way to express himself.
"I see." Whatever sudden, violent emotion had surfaced in Finn now evened out, and Azel thought of ripples smoothing out on the surface of a pond. He'd tossed in a rock, and the rock made its splash, and now everything was calm again. "Is there anything else, Lord Azel?"
"Um, no. That's probably enough of a mess for one night," Azel added to himself once Finn had gone. "I wonder how much trouble I've caused everyone now."
Azel sat back down in the pew. The great glass portraits of the Crusaders had turned to dark and grotesque jumbles, and silent servants busied themselves lighting candles along the wall. Azel leaned back as if the pew were some ordinary bench- or even the settee he'd nearly set fire to in the smoking room- and stared now at the vast ceiling, where generations of craftsmen made an avalanche of stone lace and molded plaster and lacquered wood. Out of everything he'd seen in Belhalla (and Azel hadn't seen anything outside of Belhalla yet), the cathedral alone was beautiful, untainted by darkness. Azel wondered why Loptyr's worshippers hadn't desecrated Heim's cathedral first. Maybe they were saving it for last, for the victory celebration when the corpses of the new crusaders adorned the high altar.
"Uncle?"
He knew the beautiful voice now and didn't imagine her to be Deirdre any longer.
"Hello, Julia."
"Am I disturbing you?"
"No."
Not in the sense that she meant, anyway. Julia, daughter of Arvis, disturbed Azel plenty in much the same way he disturbed everyone else.
"I was going to light some candles for my parents and brother. Would you like to join me?"
He didn't, really, but Azel said yes anyway. He followed her to a little shrine where Julia had placed icons of Saint Heim and Vala along with fresh flowers- scarlet and white and shimmering pale lilac. He didn't really know what to do other than hold a candle and watch Julia pray, and when she was done he placed his candle in the niche alongside Julia's offerings. He'd placed it there a little crooked and the flame smoked and sputtered at him for a moment.
"When I finally remembered my mother, and what happened to her, I began to do this every night," Julia said. "I didn't have anything from Mother except my own blood, but I gathered up the things that brought her to mind, and I prayed for us both. I feel closer to her after doing this, so I do it often."
"That's good." Azel supposed that Julia's prayers would be the most powerful of anyone's, and if hers didn't have some good effect then nobody's would.
"Would you like a candle for Aunt Tiltyu?"
"No," he said, and didn't waver even as Julia's mouth turned down. "I'm sorry Julia, but I can't. If I do that, then Tiltyu actually dies for me."
He'd come to that realization, at least, when staring at dead Crusaders and contemplating eternity. The thought that she was waiting for him in Silesse was still stronger than the thought of her lying dead and frozen in Alster, and right now the thoughts inside his own head mattered more to Azel than an icon of Tordo, a stick of wax, and a scattering of flowers with petals the color of Tiltyu's eyes.
To Be Continued
A/N: The whole situation with religion in Jugdral is kind of weird. Thracia 776 makes it clear that the Edda Church (faith of Bragi and Claude) becomes the main church in Thracia after the war, which means before that everyone was doing something else. Also you have Crusaders kinda sorta being worshiped or at least venerated while other gods, like Earth Goddess Ethnia of Thracia, exist also. I assume Ethnia was the dragon (an Earth Dragon?) who bonded with Nova and therefore a "real" god like Forseti, Naga, and Salamander. Who all turn out not to be actual deities per FE13 but oh well.
Also, Azel finally puts on his big boy, uh, robes and starts acting next chapter.
PS: I understand the latest FE4 patch, while using the NoA translated names for relevant characters, is using "Tailto" and 'Teeny" for the Freege ladies. If they ever get localized I don't care if they're called Trish and Trixie as long as "Teeny" doesn't end up being an official NoA name.