While You Were Sleeping

I do not own Fire Emblem or any of its characters.

(Accepting)

Azel dragged himself to bed expecting a night of troubled sleep, but long hours of blissful quiet made him think the riotous mood of the last few days was... less so. By noon, he'd decided this was no illusion; something in the atmosphere of Belhalla had changed, and maybe not for the better in spite of fewer "incidents" to trouble the staff.

"Prince Ares is itching to go to war," said Arthur, as he, Azel, and Tinny shared another uncomfortable family luncheon. "Prince Seliph is moving up the investiture ceremony for everyone so that Ares can march on Agustria as soon as possible."

Azel knew. Oh, he knew. Finn went straightaway to Prince Leif with the news about Raquesis, and Leif had gone to Ares, and the two princes confronted Seliph with the demand that Seliph give them his blessing to subjugate Agustria, and now the newborn Thracian-Agustrian alliance was going to thunder across the continent all the way to Silvail. It would have happened anyway, given Ares wanted his kingdom back, but Azel's careless mouth had guaranteed it was happening that week.

Arthur had his own explanation, though.

"The Demon Sword wants blood," he said, and shrugged it off. "I'm glad, though. The sooner Ares moves on Agustria, the sooner we can take on Silesse. What's left of the Empire won't know what hit it."

Arthur's casual use of "we" didn't escape Azel. Not one bit.

-x-

The Crusaders had one last party in them, though, the final night in a celebration as uproarious and nearly as long as the heavenly feast of the original Twelve. Azel had new clothes for the occasion, ordered by his loving niece and delivered that afternoon, a mantle and long breeches white as Silessian snow and a magnificent tunic of red satin embroidered with the Velthomer crest in gold. Azel hadn't worn his family emblem in years even as he reckoned time, and now the bloody thing was all his.

There was something off about this particular party, Azel thought not long after it started with a tune Lewyn played on his pipes, accompanied by a dance from the girl who had to be Sylvia's long-lost daughter. He sensed cross-currents in the atmosphere of the ballroom, a tide of "let's get back to this war" running against a stream of exhaustion. Or dissipation. Some of the young men— Lex's tough-talking nephew, Lewyn's soft-spoken son— looked as aged and weary tonight as any of the veterans.

But Julia hadn't dressed him up so he could hang back and ponder the madness of it all; she led him onto the dance floor with a little laugh that sounded exactly like Deirdre's laugh in his memories. Azel wondered how often Julia had ever heard her mother laugh. She might have laughed often, Azel thought, laughed often because she loved her murderous husband and her demon child the same way that some part of Azel still loved Arvis in spite of everything. Julia still loved her father, Azel thought as he tried to keep up with her light graceful steps. How great and terrible a man he was, to have so much of that ballroom's preternatural hate aimed at him and still carry Julia's love.

The Velthomer crest on his clothing started to look all wrong, like a parade of golden bugs creeping over his body. Azel felt an overdressed fraud as Julia put him through a second dance, and then he danced with Tinny, who moved like a stiff-jointed china doll, and then he danced with Lady Lana because the soon-to-be empress thought she was paying him an honor by it. After that the young ladies let him go, and Azel slunk off in hopes of remaining a spectator. Tinny was dancing with Arthur now, and seemed far more comfortable in her brother's hands than she had in Azel's. They made such a natural pair that Azel's mind flashed back to a long-ago ball where Lord Sigurd and his sister Ethlyn shared the first dance of the night.

"Remember the celebration when Seliph was born?" Azel asked Finn, who'd managed to escape after only two awkward dances with young ladies.

"Yes. Lord Quan made himself troublesome the entire night," Finn replied. This admission of the martyred Quan's human (and drunken) fallibility opened the door between them just enough to have a bit of light conversation, a few moments of "remember when?" that let Azel feel that maybe Finn truly didn't despise him for still existing. Even a clumsy mention of Raquesis wasn't enough to derail the conversation, at least not immediately.

"Lord Azel, there's something you should know before the investiture tomorrow," Finn said, when they'd both run out of good memories.

"Do tell." Azel was watching Arthur out of the corner of his eye; Arthur had abandoned courtly dance steps for a Silessian folk dance he was stomping out in the company of both Lewyn's kids.

"There is another possible claimant to House Velthomer."

"Really?" Azel looked down at the golden flames glinting on his clothes. "I guess that's not too surprising; I know my father had a few more out there besides Arvis, me, and Hilda."

"Mm. Your brother had a son outside his union to Empress Deirdre-"

"Stop right there, Finn. I'll believe everything else laid down to Arvis before I'll believe that he went and had a bastard child."

The anger that flared in his chest was as sudden as it was shocking. Azel found himself facing Finn down from the kind of stance Arvis once used against inferiors who displeased him— including, on more than one occasion, Azel himself. Once Azel realized what he was doing, he took a deliberate step back and slowly lowered his hand.

"There is a young man," Finn continued, as though Azel's behavior was somehow normal, "A young man widely acknowledged as the emperor's son by his companion General Aida. He bears the brand of House Velthomer and is known to be the carrier of the Vala bloodline."

"Yeah, I guess that does sound pretty convincing." The only thing burning right now was Azel's own face. "Aida... she was the one who tricked us all back at Freege. I knew Arvis trusted her, but..."

But nothing. But everything. Azel was surprised his jaw and tongue kept functioning well enough to speak, because red dots were swimming all through his head.

"So where is this kid now?"

"Bishop Saias was dispatched to Northern Thracia for a time. I believe he is now in Melgen."

"I can't believe that…" His voice did fail him then, stopped by a knot of something in his throat, and Azel had to take in and release a deep breath before he could continue. "After every wrong committed by our father, after everything Arvis had to deal with on account of me...he'd go and do that."

Silence. Finn had no more information to share and never had been very good at offering comfort during unhappy moments. Azel looked up at Finn to offer an apology for his harsh reaction, and in that instant realized the true nature of the odd feeling he kept sensing from. He was being studied by Finn. Dissected, even, with a dispassion as awful as Oifaye's pity or Lewyn's casual abuse. To what end, Azel couldn't fathom, but now he wondered if he'd been told about Saias not because it affected the rights of his succession but purely to see what would come of it.

"Thanks, Finn."

Azel departed from the celebration like a ghost, confident he wouldn't be missed. He managed to stave off the actual explosion until he was safely back in his room, behind a bolted door that bore the brunt of Azel's delayed reaction to his brother's misdeeds.

He went and made another me.

Arvis went and made another of me.

Azel didn't burn down the door; he hit it, kicked it, punched it until his knuckles were scraped and bleeding and his toes ached in their fine new shoes. He threw both shoes at the door and sat down on the floor, his clothes crumpled around him. What he'd managed to break wasn't his hands or his toes but that final tangled thread of love and respect that kept him tied to Arvis in spite of everything. It was finally gone— frayed, severed, ripped clean out of his heart. He didn't care that Arvis took his pleasure with a general instead of a maidservant or that this Saias boy inherited Vala's brand and all Vala's gifts. It probably hadn't helped any.

"I can do this," he said to himself. "I can supplant you, Arvis. I can take your place in history."

-x-

In the cathedral of Belhalla, before the eyes of all the dead crusaders, they watched Emperor Seliph claim the throne of Grannvale. Azel stared up at the dais where Sigurd's tall and beautiful son sat, flanked by Lana and Julia, and reminded himself that this was the moment everyone else present had been living for.

The new Emperor Seliph then used his rights to turn Prince Shanan into King Shanan, so that Isaach had its first true sovereign in twenty long years. Then the Thracians approached the dais, and as Prince Leif of Leonster became King Leif of New Thracia, another long-cherished dream became reality, at least on the maps. Then Agustria had its turn, then Verdane, now to be ruled by Aideen's son Lester.

Azel in his smoothed-out ceremonial clothes and smoothed-down hair crept closer and closer to the foot of the throne. Now he watched Tinny accept the duchy of Freege in right of her mother. If Azel didn't want to believe before that Tiltyu no longer was, here was the full proof of it, but he'd never thought of Tiltyu as the heiress of Freege anyway and so the moment didn't have the same impact as seeing Lester claim Verdane or Leif claim all Thracia.

He strained to hear what Tinny was saying to the Emperor, but her voice was too faint for even the hush of the cathedral. Right in line behind her came Lex's nephew Johalva and Johalva's wife Larcei, stepping up to accept the burden of Dozel. Azel wondered what Lex would make of this moment.

And then, it was his turn. Azel was relieved not to trip over his mantle as he approached the imperial throne.

"Azel... the task that lies ahead of you is the heaviest of all. Please forgive me."

Azel wondered how much of this sorrow was performance.

"No, my lord. As the rightful heir to Velthomer, I can't turn away from atoning for my family's terrible crimes."

He was performing himself, of course, saying the right things as he stood there with his bruised knuckles shielded by gold-embroidered gloves. He felt those words in his soul, to be sure, but maybe not in the right places, or in the right way…

"Azel, I no longer bear any hatred for Emperor Arvis. He was only swept along by fate, another of its victims. I feel for him, Azel. Please accept my utmost condolences."

The emperor's eyes were as blue as Sigurd's had been, as deep as Deirdre's. Azel felt lost staring into them, but then he realized it was completely inappropriate to stare and so he looked down at his own clasped hands.

"Your Majesty, thank you very much. I... I will try…"

And then he had to bow and step aside, because Oifaye and his pert young duchess were at his back, patiently waiting their turn, and none of this was really about him anyway.

A/N: So Azel finally burns his emotional bridge to Lord Brother. I can't imagine he'd be pleased with Arvis over the existence of Saias, especially if he knew the details of the poor kid's life.

PS: Saias would be biologically several years older than Azel thanks to the 15-year skip. -_-