Genres/Rating: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Humanity, Ideals. (T)

Characters: Dimitri, Felix, Mercedes, Catherine, Shamir.

Summary: Slowly, one by one, the former students of the monastery, of the Blue Lions, were bidding farewell to one another and turning their feet on the path towards home. There was a sense of reluctance to them, even as much as there was a feeling of relief and freedom, but each had kept to their word to leave with a smile at the behest of their bedridden professor. Her newfound humanity had given them all hope and happiness beyond words for her, and it was easy, too easy, to ride that feeling forward, as they knew they had to. They had travelled together, fought together, and now it was time to part ways. The future awaited them, and their goodbyes would be short, anyway. It wasn't as if they would never see each other again.

Red Wolf Moon

Garreg Mach (Entrance Hall)

Morning

"You're returning straight to Fraldarius?"

The question seemed to bemuse Felix as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest, and he glanced idly to his left to see Mercedes watching both him and the future king of Faerghus with a polite, but slightly amused smile curling at her lips. She had demurely stepped back and away from Felix when Dimitri had approached him, confused and at a loss of the news of their departure, and he wondered errantly if her politeness was more annoying or fondly exasperating. She seemed more than willing to leave them to each other, but he made no motion to signal her to go on ahead and wait for the conversation to end. Rather, he wanted her to stay, to watch, and he turned his stare back to his future king before replying, "What else is there for me to do at the moment? The old man is in Fhirdiad, preparing for your coronation, and I need to tend the territory in his absence... Anyone's he left there is likely doing a shoddy job of it, and I need the training. There's no reason to remain loitering around the monastery. Ingrid and the idiot have already left to tend to their homes. I may as well follow suit."

"That's... quite unlike you." Dimitri wasn't entirely sure how to respond to such an answer, especially when it was given so calmly and matter-of-factly. He had been watching, ever since he was a boy, how Felix had fiercely resisted his father's guidance and eventual role for him, and to see him turning about to embrace it now felt almost out of character. Yet, as his one good eye slid to the lightly smiling Mercedes, and his remembrance of that long, long visit Felix had spent in the infirmary after Raine had awoken in Grondor... Perhaps he had missed more than he had at first assumed. Still, he hesitated, fumbling over his words as he muttered, "I expected... that you would strike out on your own, now that the war is done."

"It was a tempting thought, but I have duties to attend to." Felix admitted with a light shrug of his shoulders, but there was a clear flicker of discomfort that crossed over his eyes even as he spoke. He could see Mercedes shifting a little, just out of the corner of his vision, but she stayed put at a respectful distance nonetheless. She would not approach unless she was called to, or felt the most pressing of needs, and he admitted silently to appreciating her more than ever in the moment. He crossed his arms a little more tightly as he turned his face north, and he spoke in that same calm and factual tone, "The old man won't be coming back to the territory anytime soon... and even after your coronation, he'll probably be spending the next few moons in Fhirdiad as a member of your council... I'm not about to let some retainer run the territory in his absence, so we leave now. By the time I finish getting things in order, you'll be getting crowned Boar King of Fhirdiad. The timing couldn't be better."

"I won't... need to keep Rodrigue in Fhirdiad..." Even as he spoke the words, Dimitri was well aware that they were false, and the one cocked eyebrow that Felix returned his claim with only drove that truth in further. He had spent too long away from his duties, and though he had spent the past several moons trying desperately to catch up, to relearn most of what he had forgotten and adjust to the new world the war had caused... He could not lead a country alone. No ruler truly could, which had been a lesson he had learned early from his father... A ruler was only as good a man as the ones he surrounded himself with, and the ones with which he took counsel from. "I... apologize for the position I'm forcing you into... I know that you... never intended to-"

"You only know what you knew, and things have changed quite a bit since the last time we discussed our futures together." Felix cut him off sternly, but there was no real acid in his voice or his expression as he interrupted the much taller man. He kept his arms crossed, fighting that instinctive urge to reach out and grasp him by the front of his tunic to give him a good shake, but he knew full well it would do nothing. He had never had neither the arm nor the heart to cage the beast in front of him, and he had given up the reigns long ago to the woman he had acknowledged as his professor. He continued on, his voice never raising in tone despite the slightly mocking edge it took, "I've decided what I want to do... and it's not a position that anyone has forced me into. It's one I chose, of my own volition. I am returning to Fraldarius, and will take the reigns from the old man when he deems it right. Until then, I'll train. In politics, and the sword... and then, I'll take the old man's place at your side, and put a leash on you separate from the one that the professor has you wearing. You won't get a chance to become a true Boar King... I won't permit it."

Dimitri felt his lips twitch at the threat, and he felt both a twinge of deep regret and honest humour at Felix's promise. He could see the path that Felix was dreading, the shoes that he could fill if he ever dared to succumb to his rage again, and to know he had a sword at his throat to measure him at all times... It was a bittersweet sort of comfort, cold and harsh, but he admitted that a part of him wanted it. The blade would always be there, ready and waiting for the moment he stepped a foot back towards the shadow, and he knew he needed it. Had there been such cold reassurance, such steady willingness for her all those years ago, perhaps things would have been different... Perhaps they would have forged a path together, and the thought brought a wry smile to his face as he admitted, "I will be glad for that... For you, and for your promise. I will do all I can to prevent you from having to act... but knowing that you will be there... is a sorely needed comfort. A king is only as good as the men and women he takes counsel from... Father always said that, and I know he was referencing Rodrigue... Perhaps someday, it will be like that for us, as well."

"We'll see. I won't make any future vows, because who knows how the world will turn now that the flames are put out... for the moment." Felix answered with another shrug, but his expression was thoughtful as he continued to gaze homeward. He was and always had been a soldier, someone who knew the sword and the battlefield much more intimately than the conference and politics, and to hang up his blade had once been an abhorrent thought to him. It still rankled him, the idea that he would no longer need to fight, but that vast sense of loss and disorientation that had threatened to drown him no longer existed... He would find a place in this new world well enough. He could wager on that, at the very least. "Peace was hard-won... I imagine keeping it will be a continuous war, in and of itself. I can make do with that, even if it is a morbid thought. I'm not ready to hang up my blade, but... I have had enough of fighting for the moment."

Shrugging his shoulders one last time, Felix pivoted smartly on his heel without allowing for a reply. He did not want to linger, and he was feeling more stifled, more uncomfortable, with every passing moment. It was still difficult at times, looking at that man's one-eyed face and seeing both the boar, and the calm, mild-mannered prince he knew was not his "other self" no matter how many times he had said otherwise. He was wiser now, and could comprehend what had been done to his old friend, and how his ghosts had torn him asunder long before he had realized it. But that was a matter for another day. "I'm leaving. I won't say farewell, since there's no point in it. You'll see me sooner or later, and trying to make this feel warm and fuzzy is likely to get me to vomit. Meet me by the horses when you're ready to join me, Mercedes."

Mercedes bit her lower lip, stifling a giggle as Felix smartly marched himself out without any further fanfare and left a rather fumbling Dimitri behind him. Of course, like everything else he did it was abrupt and to the point, with little care for those left behind... but, she couldn't really blame him. She had seen the redness in his ears, peeking through his dark hair as he took his leave, and for that and that alone she would save her scolding. She shook her head a little, letting a little of her amusement out as Felix's back disappeared out the doorway and into the morning, and she finally approached with two small steps as she began softly, gently to Dimitri, "You must forgive him... Things have been very hard for him in the last several weeks... I think it's only now that he's coming to realize that the promise he made so long ago is now coming to fruition, and his "debt" is going to be collected."

"A debt?" Dimitri turned, watching as Mercedes took a long, lingering stare at the door with her eyes so full of an aching sort of fondness that a part of him recoiled as if he was intruding on something he was not meant to see. The flaxen-haired healer had always worn her heart proudly on her sleeve, even if it cost her more than it gifted her, but she had never made any attempt to mend her ways. She was happy with who she was and how she loved, and that deep, deep adoration she felt for Felix was branded all over her body like a tapestry. Her words however confused him, as this was the first time he was hearing of Felix owing anyone anything, and to know that a debt had driven him to Fraldarius of all places after he had spent so long detaching himself from his home and birthright... "What sort of debt does Felix have? This is the first I've heard of such a thing."

"Did the professor not tell you?" Mercedes blinked in surprise, turning back to him as she fixed her bangs back behind her ears with an errant flick of her hand. The blank expression that followed proved that the woman had indeed kept Felix's decision close to her chest, and the thought that she had hidden it even from Dimitri made her smile turn slightly sad. She hadn't thought that the two had any secrets left between them, though she did suppose that it was quite like the professor to shield her students from one another if she deemed it to be pertinent. Still, Felix had been the one to open the door, and with him leaving her there, Mercedes was well aware that he was giving her tacit permission to explain what he had not said aloud. "Felix swore to return to Fraldarius shortly after what happened in Grondor... Not long before you and the professor reconciled, to be exact. He said that while he knew what she did there was more for you than anything else... He still acknowledged the fact that had she done nothing, he would have lost Lord Rodrigue that day, too. He knows his father... and as much as he still struggles to admit it, he does love him. He wanted to repay Raine's sacrifice in his own way, just as you did."

"No, she... She never told me a word of this." Dimitri answered slowly, and his brow furrowed as his one good eye automatically lifted to the ceiling, searching out the exact location of the infirmary regardless of how far away it was from their current position. He could imagine it well enough, her speaking quietly to Felix about that accursed day and being bombarded with his fierceness, but the thought gave him no comfort. Though they had spoken at length about many things, the battle of Grondor, and the weeks that had followed, had always been a tender subject for the both of them. She never lingered on it if she could help it, and she had never spoken much of the visits that she had been flooded by in her first few days of consciousness, either. It was her prerogative, of course, but a part of him remained oddly discomforted by the notion that he had not been the only one to make a vow to her after her decision to spare his life.

"I can see why. You look as if you want to tell him it's not necessary. From what I was told, the professor said the same thing... but Felix insisted. Eventually, the professor stopped arguing. I'm not sure if he wore her down, or if he came up with an argument that she couldn't logic her way out of, but in the end, this was the deal they made." Mercedes noted with a wry sort of smile as she saw the look of discomfort on his brow, and in the flickering of his cerulean eye. She understood. She had felt much the same way, when Felix had taken the time to explain what it was he had chosen to do. The combined stubbornness of her professor, and the man she loved however, had been a wall even she could not break. "She saved the last of his family... in exchange, he promised to safeguard the world she was trying to rebuild by returning home, to deal with the affairs there as best as he was able."

Dimitri ground his teeth unhappily, wishing that he could tell himself it was only natural, that it was fully out of his hands, but his emotions were not so easily cowed. He hated the idea that debts were still a weight that were being tossed about, that even now, in the end of things, that there were still shackles of promises and obligations that couldn't be shaken off. He could no more control Felix than he could Raine, and there was obviously nothing he could do about the pact they had chosen to make, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He was well aware it showed on his face, but he could only shake his head, letting out an annoyed sigh as he finally managed tiredly, "That sounds... infuriatingly like the two of them..."

"It does, doesn't it?" Mercedes agreed with a sage nod, and another one of her wry, but fond little smiles... Her eyes were sympathetic, understanding exactly what it was that nagged at him, but he was unwilling to press farther all the same. He had learned something about freedom that he had not known before, about the wonders and blessings of choice, and it had made him look at things in a new light that once he may have taken for granted. They all had, in their own ways, when they had understood the weight of the burdens that their dear professor had been carrying for so long in agonizing silence. There was no real way to be angry with those who exercised their right to choose freely, as that was the height of living, but it didn't mean they always had to be pleased with it... and she chuckled softly as she pointed that out for him, "But at the end of the day, if it is what they chose... We cannot very well intercede, no matter how frustrated we might be, can we?"

"Indeed... We have no right to intercede."

Dimitri's quiet, and somewhat grim agreement should have made her smile, but she caught the way his eye continued to linger upwards, and she could almost see the thoughts of her flickering through his head. He wasn't so much thinking of Felix anymore, but she did not mind that so much. It was just too much like him to be distracted, to want to return to her side so he, too, could find the stability she offered with nothing more than a simple and easy smile. Mercedes had found herself feeling the same, when she had taken her time to say her farewells earlier that morning, and though she had been looking forward to the journey to her new home... When she had been sitting at her professor's bedside, holding her hand for both support and comfort, she had found herself abruptly upset at the idea that she had to part from her.

It was ridiculous, as she knew full well that they would not truly be parted forever. Her professor would always be her professor, no matter how they aged or what paths they took, and she had promised her that if and when she was needed, she would answer their calls immediately. It was not a promise Mercedes had wanted her to make, but she had found great relief in it all the same. She had grown too used to depending on her, to feeling the strength of her will and the responding strength of her comrades, and even if the need for fighting was over... She was not entirely sure she was yet ready to say she did not need her professor still, if only for a little bit longer.

It was that thought, and that thought alone that spurred her to step her foot over that carefully drawn line that almost every single one of the Blue Lions had been toeing ever since they had realized that their future king had taken their professor for his lover. There had been gossip, of course, and a few grumpily muttered comments of how much better she could do, but Mercedes had never indulged in such thought. Rather, she was happy to watch their once-fractured relationship return to what it had used to be, and then grow into something much stronger and clearer, but there was still that distant, disquieted look she had seen flicker in their professor's now navy eyes when she wished her students well on their new journeys that made her very bones ache with the need to act.

"Forgive me for my being so forward, but... I wish you to know that when this was first suggested to me, that I was... quite apprehensive about the entire thing." Mercedes felt the words come out slowly, haltingly, and her cheeks burnt red with shame as she betrayed her honest feelings for Dimitri's surprised look. She could understand his confusion, but she powered forward, knowing that unless she laid the foundation that what she truly wished to say would not come out properly as she forced herself on, "Felix had never once suggested to me that he wished to settle down anywhere when the war came to an end... but when he explained this was his choice, I found myself unable to argue. Then, when he promised to take me with him... Well, any idea of debate simply vanished from my head altogether. I was always so scared of... of "trapping" him, I suppose. Of chaining him down to me. But he said it was what he wanted... and I believed him. I still do... which is why I'm going with him today."

"You'll be a good influence on him... You always have been, even from the very beginning of our schooling. No one knew how to calm his temper quite like you did... and no one could make him care for his own neck like you, either." Dimitri answered almost as slowly, sensing the seriousness behind her awkward speech and frowning only slightly in answer to it. It was unlike her to speak about Felix, even though the two had never really made an attempt to hide their relationship. All of them had known they were involved, and he could now see why it had become all the more clearer after the events of Grondor if Felix had chosen to make it an "official" courting. Still, he was unsure of where Mercedes was leading the conversation, as he was well aware she did not want to talk only about Felix from that look in her eye and on her face, and so he chose to comply with the charade as best he could as he continued, "He's a fighter born, yes, but even fighters need a home to return to eventually. And to be blunt, had he abandoned you at the end of all of this, I imagine he wouldn't have made it back to Fraldarius in one piece. Annette may have had words, or flames, with him if he had set off alone."

"Heehee... You might be right, but I'm glad that the idea never seemed to cross his mind..." Mercedes tried to stifle a giggle at the thought, and it wasn't helped an ounce by the fact that Annette had indeed offered to torch his trousers if he ever so much as stepped a toe out of line. She was fiercely protective of her, sometimes too much so, but that sweet loyalty that drove her was enough to make her forgive her rather than be annoyed or exasperated by the thought of Felix making her unhappy. Only when they were younger had they stumbled, had misunderstood one another, and those days were long in the past. She doubted anyone knew her better now, and she was sometimes surprised by just how at ease that made her feel when she truly stopped to think about it.

That ease however... That ease pushed her on. How could it not, when her professor's mask had slipped, if only for a moment, and those navy eyes that had been smiling with gentle encouragement only moments before suddenly became cloudy and distant? It was almost all the same as it had been all those years ago, when their professor had withdrawn after the passing of her father and refused to take anything but kind words as comfort despite the many offering hands. They, as students, had failed her then because they had not known her as well as they did now, and had feared overstepping... Now, Mercedes did not feel that fear at all, and she lifted her chin as she continued softly, but with incredible firmness, "Felix wanted to share his home with me. It never seemed to be in question... It just was how he wished for things. He... prized my happiness above anything and everything else, aside from this debt he wants to repay. But to be honest, I don't think I would have minded where he chose to call home... so long as we were together. That gave me more comfort than anything else, during all of this. Even at the worst of it all, I could find grounding, because I knew at the end... I would not be alone. During the war... During all of this... I was surprised by how much I needed that. How much it calmed me, when I was afraid and uncertain."

For a moment, Dimitri could say nothing in answer as the hammer blow struck without her name ever being spoken, but Mercedes did not need to name her for him to understand what it was she was now driving at. He had seen it too, those momentary flashes of discomfort and wonder, her eyes drifting off as if they were being pulled against their will, and it had made him ache to know she was once again beginning to struggle. She had much to grapple with these days, much to try and sort out and come to terms with, and though she put on a good front... It was clear what was bothering her more than anything she had learned in the past moon. When her precious students were leaving her, heading for home or parts unknown to strike out for a new future, of course it made her take pause and wonder what she should do with herself, when there were no more farewells to make. Mercedes' concern touched him, but it also made him hesitate as he began somewhat reluctantly, "Mercedes..."

"Prince Dimitri, if you'll allow me to be impertinent for a moment longer..." Mercedes interrupted him quickly, not wishing for him to assume before she had a chance to speak freely and honestly. It felt horribly awkward, speaking of such intimate and private things that she had no true ken of, but she felt the duty pressing down hard on her shoulders. She had piled on too many failures in her short lifetime for her to allow for another to be added on, and it made her both brave and reckless as she hurried to explain, to plead, "I... I won't presume to understand what it is that you carry on your shoulders as a future king, and as a survivor of all of the horror you've endured over your life. I have had my own fair of hardships, but I know to weigh suffering is a pointless exercise. Pain is simply pain. But... If you can... Please, speak to the professor, and tell her the same thing that Felix told me. It wasn't until he said the words, until he made me a promise, that I felt the ground come back under my feet. Until that moment, I was adrift and I was afraid, because everything was so uncertain. I didn't give much thought to the future because I needed to focus on each singular day ahead, but when I did... Realizing that I had no plans, that I was leaping headlong into the unknown... It terrified me. The professor, I think, is quite a lot like I am in that respect. That she hasn't given thought to the true future... and when the time comes for her to think of it, I... I don't wish for her to be as afraid as I was."

Dimitri couldn't answer for a long moment, looking down at the pleading eyes of the one woman who had withheld her judgement all this time on him, and instead had opened her arms for him happily when he had been dragged so coldly from the dark. Her aid and silent but strong support had been a much-needed boon, and though he had wondered at her simplicity and kindness, he knew better than to question it. She was simply as she was, and she knew no other way to live. She did not want to live in any other sort of manner, and to dismiss her would be an insult... and he cared too much for her to permit that to ever stand. Yet, this unexpected fierceness for Raine, this desperation to speak of things no one else had dared to, also made him feel a wry sense of self-loathing sweeping through himself.

He had allowed it to get to this point, after all. Time and time again he had held back, unsure and wavering, and it was his fault that now Raine was beginning to drown again. He had sworn he would support her, would be whatever she required of him whenever she needed him, but again he was starting to fail. Mercedes had seen it, and she had come to him to plead for him to act, and he hated that he had hesitated for so long. There truly was no reason to, now that he had thought so hard on it and after all that had happened, and yet... He let out a soft laugh, self-deprecating and weary as he ran a tired hand through his hair and sighed quietly, "You truly don't miss anything, do you...? I... I intended for a long time... to say those words to her, but... like you, I was afraid to. I didn't want to free her from her shackles, just to place another on her for my own gain... and I know, it's not truly like that at all, but I hesitated, and waited too long. Now she's afraid again, when I should be there to anchor her. And I will, Mercedes... I do intend to offer her all that I have to give. I owe her, and you, an apology for allowing fear to delay me for this long."

"You love her. We all do, in our own ways... but it's your love she wants most." Mercedes answered him gently, and she reached for him to lay a comforting hand on his tightly clenched forearm. He had known she would understand, and she was glad that he was willing to say such things aloud, though she did admit she felt guilty for essentially forcing it out of him at arrow-point. It wasn't entirely fair, especially when she knew what kind of man he was, and just how fierce he was in protecting the woman in question's freedom. "She won't reject you, Your Highness. I know that you still fear that, even now... but I know that she will never turn away from you. She can't. It simply isn't in her to do. She needs you... Just you. Not the crown, not the future king, not even the soldier... But just you as you are. I know many a time it's been said that she never has had a home, but to be frank, I have never agreed with that. A home is not merely a place... It can be many things, and when she looks at you, I know what it is she sees. She sees home."

Dimitri knew there were no falsehoods in Mercedes' claim. He had seen it himself, and moreover, he had felt that same strong sense of belonging and peace whenever he looked at Raine, too. The gentle smiles, the soft hands, the quiet, lovingly whispered calls of his name in the dark all told him that she felt just as he did. She had chosen him, for whatever reason he doubted he would ever truly fathom, but it didn't matter. If she wanted him, if she was willing to share herself with him, then it was his duty, and his greatest selfishness to make her wishes come true.

Still... He turned his eye down, and he allowed a long, heavy breath to escape him as he felt the silent weight of two pairs of hands pressing onto his shoulders. Their grasps were not cold, not skeletal or clinging, but he felt them all the same, and he knew he had to answer to them, before any sort of action was permitted. He wasn't sure if anyone would understand, if anyone would actually care, but... He shook his head slowly, feeling Mercedes' comforting touch in tandem to the soft, but inescapable weight from those no longer there, and his voice was a low, pained croak when he managed to finally find his tongue, "I... have one last thing to do... before I can offer Raine what it is she needs. What it is that I want. I... I cannot explain it, but until I do this thing, I simply... can't in good faith tell her what I wish to. And I will do this thing, Mercedes, and I will do it without delay... but I'd beg of you to give me one more day to act, before I can grant your request."

Mercedes felt her eyes sting against her own will at his quietly tortured confession, at his tightly clasped hands and the clench in his jaw, and she allowed herself to give his forearm one last gentle squeeze. He did not need to explain, and she did not wish for him to... as she understood what it was he needed so desperately. It had been the same for her for so long, for too long, and even now she still felt her feet trip themselves up whenever she least expected it. The weight of their sins was so heavy, too heavy, but they still lived and breathed. It was their duty, as those who lived, to never forget, and to prepare themselves for what would come when the light was taken away from their eyes forever. She knew it just as well as he did, and she spoke softly, comfortingly as Dimitri's pain reached out like a flame to caress her skin tauntingly, "I understand... and I won't press you further. I hope you can forgive me, for cornering you like this... As I said, I... cannot claim to know your pain as fully as you ever will, but... the last thing I want is to see you suffer more than you already have. You deserve happiness. The both of you do. So do what you feel you must... but when I see you again, can I make one last request? Can you make sure that both of you can greet me with a smile, when we come to visit?"

"I think that I can grant you that, Mercedes... Thank you."

Village at the Foot of Garreg Mach

Late Noontime

"Somehow, I'm not surprised that this is where I'd find you after spending the last hour trying to hunt down your scent."

Shamir hid her smile behind her mug of ale at the sound of Catherine's voice raising above the tavern's natural din, and she watched from the corner of her eye as her former partner sidestepped about her to take a seat at the opposite end of the small table she had been occupying. Her meal had come and gone, leaving her only with her drink, but she had stayed longer than she had initially intended. The atmosphere had been too inviting, too familiar, and she had spent more than the last hour sitting in her corner, savouring her ale and watching as countless patrons came and went with smiles on their faces, and bright red painting their cheeks. The celebration was like electricity running through the air, invigorating everyone from the most pious nuns inside of the chapel to the most fall-down drunk inside of the tavern, but she supposed she could not blame them.

After all, a return to normalcy, and the passing of the power of the Church of Seiros back into the hands of the Archbishop was indeed a reason for celebration. After so many years of fighting, of fright and uncertainty, now what they knew and what they found comfort in was returning, and it was only right for the smallfolk to now indulge in their creature comforts after having been denied for so long. Catherine raised a hand, signalling the nearest barmaid in the crowd, and Shamir continued to watch her, carefully hiding her mouth behind her tankard as she finally permitted herself to return her greeting now that the swordswoman had taken her seat and gotten comfortable, "I'm surprised you have the time to go hunting. You should be buried up to your ears in busywork right now... Did you take the day off?"

"I'm officially on duty, yeah... but it doesn't much matter right now. Things will still be there for me to attend to when we're done here." Catherine answered with a light flick of her fingers, but she did not elaborate further, and Shamir did not question her. Instead, the two women sat in silence, awaiting the barmaid as she hurried over with her pint, and Catherine handed over several gold coins for her service with a smile. Only when the woman once again rushed away, needing to tend to her patrons, did Catherine turn back to Shamir, but her eyes had lost her good humour almost immediately as she spoke bluntly, flatly, "I didn't believe it, you know. All those moons back, when you formally handed in your resignation. I thought you were making some sort of statement, or a gamble... but I guess that was just denial, wasn't it?"

"It was always going to end this way for the two of us." Shamir answered calmly, plainly despite the hint of icy anger that was playing at the fringes of Catherine's tone. The blond took a long, deep swig of her alcohol, clearly needing it, but there was a flat sort of irritation in her eyes nonetheless at the answer that she had been given. She settled her hands about her own tankard, allowing for the rough wood and metal to keep her grounded as she understood that the long-awaited conversation she had not been looking forward to was finally being dragged kicking and screaming into the open.

Catherine had been avoiding her, almost pointedly, ever since she had made her resignation official. At first, she had felt a flicker of hurt, of indignation, but quickly enough she had smothered it. There was no point in allowing anger to fester... No point in allowing sour feelings to grow. She had made her choice, and she did not regret it, even now, with her friend and partner sitting across from her and glaring at her as if she was a trespassing stranger. That day on the docks, when Catherine had threatened her for daring to speak ill of the Church, of Rhea, Shamir had known and accepted that their paths would never be able to remain the same.

They were simply too different, even if they did find comfort in one another. Their priorities would never match, their loyalties would never be the same, and that had driven a wedge into their friendship even though they had tried their best to patch it back up. Things couldn't go back to how they once were, with such words spoken, and now with such ugly truths being revealed. She would not stand to remain where she was, to remain as she was, when she knew her happiness lay elsewhere. She was selfish enough to follow that, even if it meant hurting the woman that had been her comrade for so long, and she showed no remorse for it as she continued, "I can't stay... No, it's not a matter of what I can or can't do... I won't stay. Even before I knew the whole truth, that was always something that was at the back of my mind. You may be my friend, and you may have been a great partner, but that isn't enough to make me blind myself to the reality of things. I need to leave, just as much as you need to stay."

"It's just that simple for you, isn't it?" Catherine's voice was acidic, but she did not raise it even though it was clear she wished to. The words stung. She had known they would, but that had been something she had thought she had been prepared for. After all, they had been partners for so long that she had thought she had grown used to the cutting edge that Shamir applied to everything, regardless of if it was a weapon, or her tongue. Still, having it turned so effortlessly on her just stung. She had thought they were closer, had thought they had mended things enough, but it was clear Shamir had never had such opinions. The ale tasted incredibly bitter on her tongue as she took another swig to steady herself before she ground out, "Of course, it's always that simple for you. You're a mercenary. Not a knight."

"I never claimed to be anything but what I was. Just because I entered the service never meant my loyalty was for the Church for the rest of my life... And no, actually. It's anything but simple." Shamir countered quietly, coldly, but she took no satisfaction in the look of surprise that passed over Catherine's face at the blunt admission. She had wished, night after night, that it was simple... That her choices were logical and pragmatic and not coloured at all by emotion, but that had been an easy lie. Of course it had never been simple. How could it be? And it angered her that even now, after all this time, that Catherine was trying to cut her down without making an attempt to understand. "Do you know how difficult it is to willingly leave you behind? To not even try to make an effort to convince you to come with me?"

"I won't leave Lady Rhea."

"And you said it's simple for me?!" Shamir felt her voice whip out as her tankard slammed down on the table, and she grit her teeth in regret almost instantly afterwards. Catherine was staring at her as if she had never seen her before, but she supposed her only saving grace was that in the current din of the tavern that her flare of temper was easily missed. It made her glad she had chosen a table in the corner, far and away from the middle of the festivities and drinks, but something had been switched in her chest, and her anger came flowing free and clear as she threw Catherine's words back at her harshly, "Look at yourself, Catherine, before you call me cold just because I'm a mercenary and not a knight. I won't follow a leader that I can't trust. That, that yes is simple. But everything else? That's not easy. Do you think I'm happy to be parting ways with you like this? With venom and anger and all those unsaid words because we let something as petty as religious differences get in the way of our partnership? You aren't just someone I fought alongside, you're also my friend, and I trust and love you. And I don't want to leave you here, and worry about who will be protecting your back when you get reckless because I'm not there to fight beside you. But what choice do I have, when you won't leave, and I know full well that nothing I say will ever convince you to?"

Catherine almost heard herself asking why she still hadn't tried, but the answer was already laid out bare between them, and it made her recoil despite herself. It was true enough... She would not leave. No matter what was said, no matter who said it... She would never be able to leave the service of the Church of Seiros. Of Archbishop Rhea. She had chosen this life, as both penance and because she could imagine nothing that would make her happier, or more fulfilled after all she had done in her former life as "Cassandra". She wanted to move forward, wanted to leave behind the ghosts and the pain and the sense of betrayal, but it seemed there was no true escape for her no matter where she turned.

Alois was remaining, intending on keeping the mantle of Knight-Captain in remembrance of the man who had trained him, but she had watched his face become grim rather than warm and friendly as he took on his duties. There was a clear sense of resentment in him, a sense of mistrust and worry, but yet he stayed, because his loyalty to the dead captain before him was paramount over his faith, or his vow to the Church of Seiros. She had been surprised when he had told her he had no intention of leaving the monastery, as she had almost fully expected him to be following them wherever it may be they chose to go, but Alois had shaken his head and denied any such thoughts, and the idea that such things had even been offered to him.

No, instead he had said that he wished to stay, because change could only truly come about from within, and he was in the best possible spot to make sure that change occurred, and occurred properly. As the new Knight-Captain, he would be able to train his recruits to know the difference between blind loyalty and the morality of their actions, and he would be stern, but fair in dealing out justice in the years to come. He would no longer be an arm that wielded merely a sword, and he would watch, and watch closely, to ensure that all of the promises that had been made would come to fruition. The Church would reform with his aid, as small as it would be, and he would repay his debts to the children of his captain by standing firm, rather than abandoning all that they had fought for up until now. He reasoned it was the only thing he could do, despite all evidence to the contrary, and she had been too taken aback to really answer him.

At the time, the words had infuriated her, and she had forced herself to hold back from punching the man straight in the stomach for daring to imply that all she had lived for, for so damned long, had been something to be ashamed of. But it was Alois, a man she admired and respected, and she knew that there was no real way she could ever actually harm him. Especially when all he wanted was to keep the shadows at bay, if only to keep his promise, and to make sure that the world that lay out before them now was safe enough for his wife and daughter. She understood that, as much as it rankled her pride, and so she had left him alone to his memories and his newfound goal as a hound for the continuous growth and change of the church. If it was his true wish, if it was what he actually thought was the best thing for him... Who was she to tell him otherwise?

Yet, it was not the same with Shamir. Especially when she met her glare tit for tat, and challenged her on equal footing, and with equal anger. A detached part of her was aware that this had always been in the cards for them, with the rest of the piling differences between them, but it hadn't made it any easier. It had festered like an infection, knowing her partner was turning her back and abandoning all they had fought for side by side, but even she was well aware that it had never actually been that way. Shamir had owed a debt, and she had repaid it, several times over, long before they had come onto the scene to disrupt everything she had once known. Shamir had only lingered as long as she had for her, to keep her safe from herself, but now she had seen enough that even that reason could no longer hold her down.

The bitterness was too strong, and Catherine took her ale and drained it in one long swig. The burn of the alcohol almost felt cathartic in her throat, in her empty and twisted stomach, and she wished she could fill a trough with it and drown herself and her sorrows in it. Of course, life was never that simple, and she shook her head, laughing darkly as as she rubbed her forehead and muttered with sour anger that she still could not contain no matter how much she knew she should, "You're still leaving me high and dry, in a place I don't recognize anymore, with someone that I... that I don't think I even know any longer."

"You said so yourself that you won't leave her." Shamir pointed out flatly, and she watched as Catherine's jaw tightened unhappily in response. It was an intriguing expression, a first glimpse that perhaps maybe she wasn't completely at ease with her own decision as she wanted to appear, and it made Shamir's eyes narrow. Catherine had never once wavered in all of the time she had known her, had never once showed doubt that she believed in the Goddess, and in Rhea, but now... Now, there was hesitation that was fuelling her anger, and it made her voice sharper as she took her aim and let it go like an arrow loosed from a bow, "Are you suddenly thinking twice of that? Of what you just said right now?"

"I can't! I'm not!" Catherine's rebuttal was loud and almost frantic, and her hand pounded down hard on the table as Shamir continued to watch her with those sharp and deadly eyes that never missed a single detail. The anger swirled again somewhere deep in her gut, making her both nauseous and ready to move, ready to hurt, despite the merriment about them. Everything had suddenly become very small, secluded despite how open and vulnerable they actually were, and she lashed out instinctively and without thinking in answer, "She saved me! So many times, in so many ways! I can't turn my back on her! And yet now she's in this state, and I can't do a damned thing about it, or for her! If they just hadn't come, if nothing had ever happened-"

"Are you actually trying to blame them for this?" Shamir cut in viciously, and her hands twitched at her sides in an instinctive want to land several blows, but she paid all of her self-restraint to not move an inch from where she sat. It surprised her, how hard it was to keep herself from leaping across the table, but she chained down every emotion she had with an iron will and desperation. It was a crack in her friend's armour, a chink that had never existed before, but to hear her reaching so fruitlessly for someone to blame for her own confusion and distress... Especially when her scapegoats were them of all people... No. It was not permitted. "Catherine. With or without those two, Rhea still did things that are monstrous, and now you know full well what she was capable of, and what she was truly serving. Take your anger out where it belongs, and don't make them suffer more just because you can't handle facing up to the facts. You served a monster. You loved a monster. Peel your eyes back and take a look around at what the world has to offer you, before this consumes every last bit of sanity you have, and gives me the last excuse I need to send you flying across the damned tavern."

If she had been slapped across the face, Catherine mused in a detached sort of fashion that she might have been more surprised by Shamir's instant and cruel interruption. Her harsh language was not much of something that startled her, but her words... Her words took her aback, and for a moment, all of her anger vanished in what felt like a fire abruptly being quenched by a pail of water. All that remained was confusion, confusion and loss and uncertainty, and she felt like a child, grasping for something, anything familiar as she repeated her friend's words thoughtlessly, "What the world has to offer me...? I don't have anything, Shamir. Nothing. I threw away my nobility, I changed my name, but I still have nightmares I can never run away from. And now, after I spent so long trying to find somewhere I belonged... It's gone. I'm not mad. I'm not stupid. I know that what Lady Rhea did... was unspeakable. But I'm not you. I never cared about those two siblings, and I never liked them, either... It is their fault that Lady Rhea's world is crumbling. And mine, too. Look around at what the world has to offer me? There's nothing left of that world anymore, Shamir."

Shamir leaned back in her chair, hissing out a sigh between her tightly grit teeth in an attempt to not speak out of turn. A part of her did understand, in a way that she truly did not want to. Despite her bravado, despite her skills, despite her pride... Her partner was incredibly fragile in unexpected and sometimes inexplicable ways. With Rhea now stumbling, and all she had ever known thrown in disarray, she was only reacting with the only emotion she really could embrace with full safety... and that was something she could not in good faith blame Catherine for. However... She shook her head, running a hand tiredly through her hair before she muttered, "You only think there's nothing left because you're afraid of your other options... And no, I'm not mocking you. I understand what it's like, to be terrified of the idea of a second, third, or fourth chance because nothing has ever gone right for you. You know that I do... But is living like this really worth it? Is the idea of happiness without Rhea truly so terrifying to you that you'll just keep your eyes closed forever to the possibility of something else?"

"I don't want anything else. All I want... is for things to just return to how they were. Gods, I sound like some squealing infant." Catherine muttered sourly as the rest of her words came out in a low, pleading sort of whine, and she was disgusted by her own show of weakness. This was not what she had wanted. She had thought better of herself, had imagined this scenario going so differently, but of course Shamir had upended her and refused to let her imagination play out its happy little fantasy. She was too much of a realist, and Catherine almost hated her for that. She ran a hand tiredly through her hair, nails scraping across her scalp in a desperate attempt to find grounding before she spoke again wearily, "I don't know where my place is now... All I know is where it used to be. Lady Rhea has said she'll be returning to her duties as soon as the monastery is cleared, but it won't be the same. She's said as much, and everyone else is acting the same way. So where does that leave me?"

"You have choices, Catherine. Plenty of them. Stay with the Knights of Seiros if you want to, but you don't need to be tethered to Rhea... Not unless you choose to." Shamir answered with a calm she didn't feel, but she forced back her feelings of her irritation and annoyance without a flinch. They had come too close to blows already, and she had no wish to be leaving the tavern bruised and bloody in testament to her last farewells with her friend. There had been enough violence already. Still, she needed delicacy, needed to take aim carefully, and she did so slowly but deliberately, "That's all that this really comes down to, in the end. Choice. You can stay as Rhea's bodyguard, and help her rebuild the Church brick by brick... or you can be an extension of her will, and work outside the monastery walls to make a difference with your own two hands. You could easily do both, and change nothing of what you used to do... Or you could abandon the Church entirely, take up with Seteth and find out what it's like to be a wife. The gods know that you could use someone to warm your bed at night."

"I am not taking up with- What is your obsession with finding me a suitor?! And why is it always Seteth you recommend?!" Catherine growled with indignance, but unlike all the other times Shamir had teased her for the interest they both were well aware Rhea's second in command showed to her... Shamir was wearing no hints of a smile, and her eyes were not laughing. She was simply sitting at her end of the table, hands idly closed about her half-empty tankard, and was regarding her almost with something resembling pity. Almost instantly Catherine felt her hackles rise, and she shook her head even as a foreign, but not entirely unwelcome, heat began to crawl its way up her neck and into her face, "I'm not wife material. I can't cook, can't sew, I break most things I touch, and I can out curse a sailor when I feel up to it. I'm barely a woman. He isn't interested in me. He's interested in the idea of me. And even if he was sincere, that wouldn't matter. He had a wife. He has a daughter. I'm not about to put my nose into that maelstrom."

Shamir raised an eyebrow, unable to help the intrigue at the diatribe she truly had not expected. More often, Catherine was simply happy to just dismiss the idea out of hand rather than give it a moment's thought, but her foundations had been so shaken that she couldn't do so now. Instead, she let her true fears show, unable to hide them no matter how much she obviously wanted to, and though the words were not really surprising... Shamir had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling at Catherine's overly harsh description of herself as a woman. "So the infamous Thunder Catherine is afraid of being involved with a widower...? Is that what it really comes down to?"

"Did you ignore everything else I just said?!"

"Yeah, because it's a load of pegasus dung, and you know it as well as I do. You're not competing with a ghost. The man is ancient. He's had his time to mourn, and to move on. And I heavily doubt he wants you to be a housewife. He may a great imagination to write all of those stories of his, but he's a realist at heart. He knows who you are and what you are. He loves you because of those reasons, not in spite of them." Shamir answered with a flick of her hand, and she leaned forward, resting her cheek on her fingers as she watched Catherine's eyes rapidly moving about the tavern in a desperate bid to avoid looking at her. It was amusing, in a painfully bittersweet way, but she supposed that was simply how things were. Catherine wasn't ready. Her true feelings, whatever they were, were still buried. She didn't have the courage, or the strength, to unlock the lid... but eventually, the box would open. It always did. "But fine... Do what you want, and ignore him, if that's how you truly feel about it. Maybe one day you'll change your mind. Maybe one day you'll be able to shoot him down directly. It doesn't matter which you do... I just hope that whatever choice you make is one you'll be happy with, at the end of it all."

"How are you so self-assured?" Catherine felt the question escaping her lips before she could think twice about it, and though she already knew the answer to it, she really could not help it. Shamir blinked, obviously confused, but Catherine felt something letting go, quietly, softly, and she allowed the emotions to flow without making any attempt to stop them. She was floundering, and she knew it... and she was deeply ashamed of herself for allowing her feelings to grow so strong, and out of her control. She envied her friend for her steadiness, for her ability to believe in her choices and her path without flinching or hesitation, and she said so as her jealousy showed plain in her voice, "Your world was upended, too, in all of this, right? Immortals, gods, goddesses, blood magic... You didn't sign on for any of this fantasy, but you never blink. You never waver. I thought I had that composure. I was so sure in my belief... Are you able to just nod and accept it because you never believed in the first place? Is that why you can keep moving?"

"I wouldn't say my lack of faith has made this any easier... Speaking bluntly, I think it'd be easier to make sense of this if I did believe, really." Shamir shook her head as she answered slowly, but honestly. The questions had taken her off guard, had made her take a moment to truly think before she gave a reply, and she allowed herself to lean back in her chair as her mind continued to spin. She picked her words carefully, deliberately, but she tapped her cheek with two fingers, not thinking of the gesture as her eyes narrowed instinctively when she continued, "If I had believed in the Church of Seiros and its teachings, I'd have had something to already look at to give logic to all of this... and that might have made it easier for me to swallow. It's fact that a lot of what was taught was twisted about, but the core tenants; of a Goddess, of death, of war and immortals... isn't really something that is a fantasy, when you look at it from the eyes of someone who believes in those things already. The details are different, but the grand scheme isn't... But I don't think it's a lack of faith that let me keep moving. I think it was more that, until recently, I never had much stake in the game, so I didn't pay attention. But once I did have something to lose, something that made me pay attention... I could focus on that, and that was more important than anything else."

"So he's the reason you can keep moving, then...?" Catherine hated that quiet whisper of disgust she felt, knowing that the accursed young man who had made everything so wrong was what had bolstered her partner, but some distant part of her couldn't really hate him when she heard Shamir speaking the truth so frankly. She had seen it. Of course she had, and they had more than once argued and bickered over it... but Shamir had proven that she was more stubborn than she was when it came to the mercenary she had fallen in love with. They were the perfect team, understood each other in a way she could never understand, and even if she hated him for all he stood for and all he spoke out against... She truly couldn't wish him ill, when she knew that his loss would break the person she had let guard her back for so many years. "Because it involved him, it was important?"

"Yeah... It sounds stupid, I know. It took a man to make me care. But it is what it is. I love him. I loved him before this entire conspiracy was dropped onto our heads, and I'll love him long after it becomes something we'll hopefully gripe about over good ale, twenty, thirty years into the future. Because I love him, I can keep steady. If I didn't, he'd fly apart... and if he flew apart, I'd lose myself, too." Shamir answered with a small, wry sort of smile, but she felt no guilt or shame in admitting what should have been horribly embarrassing words. She ran her thumb carefully, slowly across the band that decorated her ring finger before shrugging her shoulders lightly, "I have someone, that in any and every circumstance I can possibly imagine, will always have my back. Knowing that keeps me from losing my head, no matter what it is that comes my way. I know it's... hypocritical, coming from someone like me, but... we're all human. We're not meant to be solitary creatures. We all need someone to lean on at the end of the day."

Catherine was quiet as she regarded her former partner, watching as she drained her tankard and signalled to the nearest barmaid to come by with refills when she had her chance. She was... so unbearably calm. Like the entirety of the past six or seven years really hadn't done a damned thing to her... but, Catherine knew that wasn't at all the truth. After all, for most of it, she had been there, and she had watched the way that change had slowly but surely overcome her friend, even if to the outside world it seemed like she was still the no-nonsense, self-assured and calculating sniper that she had always been.

After the fleeing of Garreg Mach, she had grown distracted. Quieter, more withdrawn, and constantly looking over her shoulder as if at any moment, she expected someone or something to appear as suddenly as they had gone. Then, the letters had begun arriving... and in between bouts of tranquil fury, and genuine relief, Catherine had become sharply aware that Shamir was truly in love with that lieutenant, and she was only keeping her feet with the knowledge that he hadn't perished in the fighting, and was still, even as far away as he was, thinking of her. After returning to the monastery, after five long years, Shamir had closed off her quarters and it didn't take more than that for Catherine to know that her bed was no longer empty. They had leapt into each other's arms so quickly that it was like they had been waiting forever for it, and since then, they hadn't parted once unless explicitly ordered to do so.

She knew she envied her partner for it. For the calm steadiness she felt because at her back was always the navy-haired man with his lance and gauntlet, and those rare, gentle smiles she sometimes caught her wearing were of course all his doing. She was happy, well and truly happy with the man she had chosen, and she wore his ring under her glove every single day. He had chosen her, too, and even if she never acknowledged it aloud, and no one was fool enough to ask, they were partners. It was only logical, then, that if he left that she would follow, and Catherine sighed tiredly as she understood that Shamir had been right, for more reasons than one, when she had said that their partnership was always going to end eventually.

The barmaid skipped on by, refilling their drinks as she went with a smile and a relieved gleam in her eye before she was off again into the crowd, and Catherine watched for a moment in silence as Shamir immediately took another slow swig of her drink. She seemed to be savouring the flavour, enjoying what would certainly be her last taste of the monastery-made ale, and despite herself, Catherine found herself asking even as she already knew the answer, "You won't ever be coming back here, will you?"

"Likely not... We'll travel, wherever we have to in order to clean things up, because that's how a mercenary lives... but I don't think we'll ever return here." Shamir acknowledged her quiet, almost plaintive question with complete honesty, and for a moment she found herself unable to look up from the strong, golden-brown liquid that was bubbling softly away in her hands. The taste of it warmed her body, made her remember so many good times of sitting side by side with her partner, with Alois and others, after a long time away at the end of a mission. She would miss it, as she would miss many more things, but that was the way of the world. "There's a lot for us to do. A lot of evil to root out... We'll be busy for a long time, and that means no time for leisure... Plus, I think we've both had our fill of this place, for the moment. We both need to get away, and stay away, from Garreg Mach for awhile."

"I'll miss you."

The finality of the statement brought Shamir's sharp violet eyes back up to Catherine's face, and she regarded her for a moment in complete silence as if she was looking her over and trying to decide if the words were meant to evoke guilt, or were just a sincere expression of loneliness. After another moment, she shook her head, and she waved a hand dismissively as she replied flatly, but still with an edge to her tone, "You make it sound like you won't ever see me again. Sure, I'll be working, but won't you? We may never come back to the monastery, but who said that we wouldn't be willing to work side by side with the Knights of Seiros if we have to? If you stay as a knight, like it seems like you want to, then it's not like we're actually saying farewell. We'll just be working in different occupations, not on different jobs."

"That's... I didn't figure that... he'd want anything to do with the Knights after everything... Or that you would either, for that matter." Catherine admitted with an awkward pause, and she rubbed idly at the side of her head as she wondered at the surety in Shamir's tone. Obviously it had been something that the couple had spoken about at length already, and it had been a topic they had easily reached an agreement on, if Shamir was so quick to correct her. She wasn't entirely sure if she was more surprised, or relieved to hear such pragmatism coming from the two. "But, I mean... Logically speaking, you aren't wrong. Alois intends to do exactly the same thing that you want to do, just within the means of the Church... At least, when reconstruction efforts are mostly over. That's the plan that I was informed of, at any rate."

"Which makes sense. The Church has been a bastion of the rebellion, and that's helped their public image... but there was still seeds of distrust that were sowed before and during the war that need to be rooted out before they can sprout and bring this newfound peace crashing down about our ears." Shamir nodded sagely, as if this had been completely foreseen despite her complete lack of interest in politics. Warin had taught her quite a lot of reading between the lines of political warfare, and she had been both surprised, and a little intrigued, to see that it really was no different than reading the lines of a basic soldier's map. "Helping with reconstruction will keep the battle-weary soldiers busy without making them fight, and it will redeem the Church, and the newly reappointed Archbishop, in the eyes of the smallfolk and the nobles. It's a smart play... and the right play. It also shows that despite everything, Rhea's words about turning the Church around, and redeeming the Nabatean people, weren't hallow."

"That was what she said... That the path she wants to walk... is one of redemption." Catherine agreed quietly, and she idly turned her tankard in her hands as she wondered exactly how it was she felt about Shamir's odd approval of the Church's new vision. Of course, it was what everyone had expected when Rhea had formally announced her renewal of the mantle of the archbishop...That she would follow the lead of her former successor, rebuilding and repenting, and yet... "I think, if she had had her way, she would have left the monastery to live somewhere in seclusion and poverty, for the rest of her life... but she isn't allowed that luxury. At least, that's how she seemed to think, when she spoke of her new reign. If she can't atone in solitude... She'll atone by leading, though passively. The new rulers of the Alliance, the Empire, and the Kingdom... She said it's their turn to lead this continent, while the Church steps back, and away."

"It's the right thing to do... Both for her, and for the Church. Especially considering the Agarthans had so thoroughly infiltrated the Western Church that it nearly led to not one, but two separate coups." Shamir noted with a slow nod, and she swirled the dark ale in her cup for a moment before raising it to her lips for a small, careful sip. She kept her eyes lowered, not wanting to see Catherine flinching in either recognition, or in guilt for the part she had played in both battles, even if it had been in ignorance. "The Church lost sight of their original goal, and their power got out of hand... In that, the Flame Emperor had a valid point. As for Rhea... Well, she has several lifetimes of sins to make up for. She can reform the Church, and herself, in one fell swoop if she means it."

"And, you..." Catherine hesitated to finish her sentence, feeling the words catch on her tongue and in her throat despite herself. Shamir was pragmatic to a fault, always cutting through the mire to get to the centre of what she saw to be the problem, and she had never once chose for subtlety when she decided to speak. These words however, of Rhea redeeming herself through the Church, through her return as the Archbishop, almost sounded so unlike her that Catherine almost wondered how much she had drank. But, Shamir's eyes were clear, her voice was strong and firm, and Catherine could not help but question against all better sense, "And do you... Do you trust her to do so?"

"Trust..." Shamir repeated the word slowly, as if she was rolling the single syllable around on her tongue to try and find out how it tasted and sounded to her own ears. Her eyebrows furrowed a little, and her nails began to tap in a near-silent but perfect staccato rhythm against the heavy wood of her tankard. She shook her head after another moment, then began again in a more firmer voice, "I don't trust Rhea. But I do trust Raine. I won't say that I understand why she spared her that day when they fought, and to be frank, I don't think it's my place to ask... but Raine decided that Rhea deserved to live. Raine decided that Rhea was fit to become Archbishop again, rather than giving the mantle to someone like Seteth, who she knew would do what he could for the Church, and the smallfolk, because of his sense of duty. And after following her for this long... Well, who am I to question her decisions? Her choices? She's been the best commander I've ever had. I put my life in her hands for this entire war... and I trust her judgement, even if I don't understand it. She's earned that much from me."

Catherine didn't answer immediately, but she felt that familiar warmth that she had been struggling to put down for so many weeks since she had heard her friend was leaving the monastery. That kinship, that had made them fight so well, and had made their differences seem so small and paltry that even they could laugh and drink together at the end of a long, hard day. Shamir took her orders and obeyed, because as a mercenary it was simply her way to live. Catherine had done the same, her loyalty as a knight leading her to believe that the cause she fought for was righteous, and that someday, by living with her sword in hand, it would redeem her if even a little of all the sins she had committed in her past. "I guess... That's where we're staying the same, then. Even though I know you hate it."

"I made my peace with your beliefs a long time ago. Yes, at first I thought lesser of you, but I put it aside because I didn't want it to ruin our friendship. And even now, even after all this, I'm not going to judge you for what you do or don't do." Shamir answered calmly, and she shook her head just a little as Catherine raised one disbelieving eyebrow at her in response. She supposed it was fair of her, after the heat and the anger, but Shamir had made the conscious choice to let it go. She would not leave Garreg Mach with a bitter and open wound in her heart. She refused to do so, after so much pain and death. "All I want is for you to be happy with the choices you make. For better or worse, that's really all I care about. If what you're doing is what you chose to do, and it gives you a sense of peace, then I'll support you, even if it has to be from afar. This war tore apart too many people... I won't let it tear you and I apart, too. If you believe I'm sincere, then we can say our goodbyes with a smile, and with the knowledge that we'll see each other again eventually. That's what I want most when it's time for us to go."

"He's changed you. Not... in a bad way, but he has changed you. They both have." Catherine remarked with a slow, begrudging sigh as that angry, throbbing nettle in her heart dug its way in just a little deeper. She knew, logically, it was wrong to carry this loathing... but she could not yet give it up. Not when she was still trying to find her own two feet, and when she saw the frail, lonely back of her lady and understood exactly who it was that had torn away her confidence and left her broken, weak and lost. Yet, when she saw Shamir, and heard her speaking so confidently, so openly... That nettle and the surrounding pain always cooled with envy and happiness, and she ran a tired hand through her hair as she sighed, "I hate that... It makes it so much harder to stay angry at them. But you're a better person because of their involvement. A lot of people are. They blitzed their way through the monastery, hell, through the entirety of Fódlan, and its left marks everywhere... but for the most part, even I have to admit it might be for the better. Just... Keep a leash on him. Make sure he doesn't go starting another war just because he can't keep his mouth shut, will you?"

Shamir stifled a chuckle even as a small part of her rankled at the annoyance that Catherine could not quite keep from her voice. She felt that same protective sense clawing its way through her chest, making her want to pick a fight, but she shoved it down with icy pragmatism. She had never looked, or wanted, her former partner's approval on who she did or did not take into her bed. Telling her had been a polite formality, and nothing more, and Catherine had for the most part been polite enough not to bring her own personal distaste into the matter. It was an uneasy truce, but a truce all the same, and Shamir was perfectly content to live with it. They were too different... but that did not mean they had to part ways permanently because of it. "I'll do what I can... And if you've got the time, let's stay and drink a bit longer. I don't have anywhere to go just yet, and I'd like to spend some time with you. Any complaints?"

"Not as long as you're buying." Catherine answered back easily, and for the first time in awhile as Shamir laughed aloud again and raised a hand to signal to the barmaid, she felt her feet resting solidly on the ground. She was sure they would pitch again, that she would stumble and feel lost and confused, but at least the anger, the fear, was beginning to abate. She had come looking for a fight, and she had found one, but her wounds were minor and her friend was still smiling. This was what she wanted more than anything, a good ale, her friend chuckling, and the feeling of merriment wrapping them up tightly in a warm blanket of security. Even if it would only be for a short while longer... Catherine would cherish it. Shamir had been right. It wasn't the end, not just yet... and they could enjoy their remaining time together for as long as it lasted.

AN:

Writing Catherine was honestly something that I have been avoiding for a very long time, and for... Well, pretty obvious reasons. X'D Now, don't be mistaken, because I actually like Catherine as a character, but it's kind of obvious that things are awkward as hell with her and Shamir because of their relationships (or lack thereof) with Warin, Raine, and Rhea. Catherine's worship of Rhea goes so far, and many argue too far in Crimson Flower, and it's clear and pretty stark in CF if you have Shamir and Catherine fight that they both have these multitude of feelings about having to combat each other... I wanted to explore that angle, that possibility of underlying resentment despite them remaining on the same side, and the feelings of being lost, being angry, and lashing out at the upset of her world even though she and her friend came out "winning" rather than "fighting".

Of course, it just felt awkward and clunky to me, so I hope I really got across the fact that despite it all, these two women do actually love one another, and want the best for each other, even if their personal opinions and personality sometimes makes it look otherwise. I do really enjoy Catherine and Shamir's friendship, and find it so intriguing that they can be such polar opposites in personality while having a lot more in common than they likely realize. But they never have to talk about it (and they seemingly don't, at least in canon) while instead allowing themselves to butt heads in their supports about other matters. And, of course, I also wanted to add that "I never trusted you from the outset" line that Catherine threw out at Byleth, while keeping to the idea that she had very valid reasons not to trust, or even like, the siblings because of how they behaved and what they believed. Warin of course would and did personally rankle Catherine often, even though he never intentionally did so to her face, and Raine's tacit approval of her brother's actions, while also avoiding Rhea and then eventually taking matters into her own hands of course fostered a similar sense of mistrust and dislike in Catherine, too, and that made perfect sense to me as I continued to write.

Mind, Catherine is a knight first and foremost, and she puts that above her personal feelings when fireballs are flying and swords are out. She respects both siblings highly as soldiers, and knows full well when she's outclassed and when to follow orders. She doesn't disparage either of them as warriors, and has no reason to as she sees how they fight, and why they fight... but that doesn't need to translate to warm feelings, and I personally did not want it to. I never wanted Raine and Warin to be beloved by everyone who knew them, and plenty of people had reasons to dislike them whether passively or actively. Catherine of course has more reason than most, but given the time constraints (and the damn length!) I never got a chance to delve into it without making it feel unnatural. At this juncture, when Shamir and Catherine are parting, it felt much more realistic to display those emotions, but I honestly don't know if I did it justice. I apologize for that.

The next part will feature Warin having a chat with someone unexpected, and then Dimitri visiting a pair that he has long been putting off seeing. After that will be the "finale" of the AM: CT, and following that will be an epilogue. At least, that's if everything goes according to plan. I can't and won't make promises about what will be happening once I wrap up this monstrosity of a work, as I feel like that would just be plain mean to everyone who's followed me for this long. It's taken way too long for me to finish this rewrite, and I am so grateful people have stuck with me for as long as they have. I don't want to promise more content than I may not be able to provide. So, for now, I will leave you with a thank you for being so patient with me, and a hope that I'll see you again soon when my next chapter is ready for you! Have a good one, everybody!

PS: My sincerest apologies for taking so long in updating. Between life, illness, and a broken laptop, a lot has left writing on the backburner. I'm now trying to get back into the swing of things, so I can hopefully have this monster finished before Warriors: Three Hopes comes out… Oi vey. Regardless, I am working again, so please bear with me just a little longer. I promise that this story will have its conclusion soon. I have to relearn a new keyboard, too, which is definitely going to delay the process a bit, so please point out any typos you may see. Spellcheck probably won't catch them all. I apologize in advance!

Mood: Happy.

Listening To: "In the Blood" - Hades OST (ft Ashley Barrett)

~ Sky