Pyre
Ike was alone when he woke up. The air found its way into his lungs with terrifying reluctance. Every single muscle burned; his organs had long since turned to ash. Especially his brain. He couldn't manage a clear thought.
His headache surpassed hangovers from even his most destructive drinking sessions. Hell, this aching put the plentiful head traumas he had collected during battle to shame, and one of them had nearly turned him blind. The plain ceiling drifted in and out of focus. In and out. Rattling gasps.
Although every breath threatened to corrode his throat, Ike pushed himself into a sitting position and looked around. Soren didn't sit at his bedside to call him a brick-headed simpleton and remind him that he should keep a healer with him wherever he went.
The sheets reeked of sweat in the still air.
Ike cursed. Of course Soren wasn't here to berate him. He had vanished to chase after his precious wind before Ike had ridden out to Thria.
But no one else had stuck around to mock Ike for getting thrashed by the redheaded highness. The hospital wing lay deserted in the winter sun. Only dust particles swirled by the windows.
Ike would never call himself the popular kid, but this cold awakening was a little too cold even for his liking. He would give them a piece of his mind once his tongue no longer felt like an inflated sea cucumber. Unless… everyone else in Thria had died. The palace folks had probably written his death certificate too and had only waited for his last breath. Well, they were in for a disappointment.
The rattle of steel echoed in Ike's ears. Gods, his head was a building site. Complete with a thousand little hammers knocking against the inside of his skull.
A near-death experience aided both his sarcasm and his imagination, apparently.
With a groan, Ike kicked the sheets aside and heaved himself into a somewhat steady standing position. The fire in his muscles had died down to a glimmer, and the survival instincts he had etched into his body on countless battlefields took over. Only every third breath felt like a dagger in his throat now. Hurray!
As the fog over his thoughts retreated, Ike spotted a wooden object on the chair next to his bead. A harp, simplistic in its design, not carved for someone who treasured the instrument with all their heart. Cordelia had been here.
Which begged the question, what kind of stupid wind was she chasing after?
In a basket under the foot of his bed, Ike found his boots and tunic. And, far more importantly, Ragnell. He traced the golden blade, all too aware that a careless move would saw away his fingertip. Roy hadn't gotten his greedy paws on the sword; at least one thing Ike could be thankful for.
The more he moved and the more his headache weakened to a bearable level, the less he felt like a corpse dug up from one of those Altean crypts. Unfortunately, the rattle of steel persisted in his ears, even after he had fastened his belt.
And, worse still, with his feeling of humanity returned his most recent memories; Nephenee's limp body, Jeorge's strained face, and the horrid mixture of ash and snow mud on his tongue. Roy had triumphed in Thria, and his fire spirit had catapulted Ike straight to the hospital wing to knock him out for… how long? Ike couldn't remember on what day he had lost consciousness. Judging by the stiffness of his muscles, weeks might have passed. The journey back to the palace and its charming sandstone halls alone had to have taken a while. Not that Ike could recall.
Either way, Roy had wiped the floor with him. Nothing stopped the former king now, he would not tarry until he reached the capital and Lucina. Maybe the noise in Ike's ears stemmed from his fists knocking against the palace gates already. And if Lucina died…
Ike preferred not to follow that thought.
Still a little disoriented, he staggered towards one of the windows. He sucked in a breath and winced. His fingers dug into the sill, not because he needed something to lean against but because of what he was seeing.
Things were a lot worse than he had anticipated.
People, a mess of Pheraens, Alteans, and Lorca fought on the battlements and the yard below. The clatter in Ike's ears stemmed from swords and sabers clashing. Just like nine months ago, the palace groaned as armies hacked at each other; blows that didn't meet steel or flesh chipped away the sandstone. Bodies piled between the fighters. Some brilliant moron had set the houses outside the palace wall on fire to stop the invading side, and the smoke smacked against the window glass like an ugly hand begging entrance.
Roy had made his move. And Ike knew only one place where he would head.
He didn't waste another look at the battle outside and didn't bother clipping Ragnell to his back either. The golden sword weighed heavy in his hand as he rushed out of the hospital wing, but it also offered a sense of control.
Fighting, killing, he could do that. His joints protested from the sudden abuse, but the gods be dammed, he would push through and deliver on his pledge. When he had promised Lucina one more fight, he had meant a victory, not the poor excuse of a duel that chained him to a hospital bed for a month, damn it.
An eerie silence ruled the halls he hurried through, broken only by the echoes of combat from farther away. Like vengeful spirits stirred from their slumber by Roy's invasion. So much the better; Ike didn't have time to dispose of lowly soldiers on his way to the throne room.
But something did convince him to pause before the final corridor, a lonely figure huddled at the edge of a massacre of Pheraen and Altean soldiers. Blood glued the tips of her currant-colored hair together, and her empty eyes stared through the patterns on the tapestry.
"Cordelia, what's going on?" Ike asked. "Is Roy already inside the palace?"
Cordelia lifted her chin. Up close, her expression was even worse. "You're alive," she whispered. "He kept his word…"
"You're not making sense. A horde of dead soldiers in your wake has never bothered you before. So stop it with that empty look."
"He really kept his word…"
Ike had been convinced Cordelia had long since passed the point where a skirmish and the sound of people suffocating on their own blood could shellshock her. But her behavior was more than concerning. A behavior he didn't have time to deal with.
"Cordelia, work with me here. I'm the one who just woke up from a coma to find a war on the doorsteps. And I have no clue how we got here, only that I screwed up in Thria." Ike gestured at the end of the corridor and the doors to the throne room. "Is Lucina still there?"
Cordelia jerked out of her stasis and grabbed Ike's sleeve. "You can't go in there. Please… don't."
Ike yanked his arm, but Cordelia wouldn't let go.
"She is already dead," she said. "And if she isn't, she will be soon."
"What are you talking about?"
Cordelia tightened her grip. "I sold her to Roy. One life for another. And you are alive. That means she is…"
The sudden burst of nausea had nothing to do with Ike's head trauma. He tore himself free from Cordelia. "You didn't."
"I had to. For you." Tears shimmered in her eyes. "For Talys."
Ike took another step back. The clatter in his ears grew louder, thundered through his skull with the intention of breaking the whole damn thing. His eyes shot from Cordelia to the throne room door and back. Swords clashed nearby, the sound so familiar and comforting. Today the rattle only screamed murder in his ears.
Murder and traitor.
Six years of a shared rebellion carved the lines on Cordelia's face, six years of campsite toasts against the Empire, and six years of bloodstains on battlefields where they had barely scrambled out alive. Always against Roy. They had always agreed on that. Six years. And she had sold all of it to Roy.
"I wish you hadn't told me," Ike said. "Then I wouldn't have to regret the day I offered you a hand in Terra."
"Ike, please…"
"I'll deal with you later. Or, better yet, I'll never deal with you ever again."
Cordelia opened her mouth, raised her hand towards him, but Ike whirled around and ran to the throne room. He heard nothing except for the rattle of two exceptional swords as they fought to shatter one another, even his own exhausted heartbeat retreated into the distance.
A heavy bolt sealed the doors; squeezed between the door handles like this, it would take two men in better shape than Ike to budge the piece of metal. Maybe he could twist and inch the barrier if he went about the problem with a strategic approach. But the noise from the other side of the wooden panels was spiraling into a despaired dissonance.
Lucina didn't have time for a strategic approach.
Ragnell flashed as Ike struck the bolt with every ounce of strength he had, once, twice. His arms protested from the counterforce, a quiver shook his spine. Ike gritted his teeth, heaved Ragnell above his head again, and finally the bolt snapped in two.
The doors flew aside, and there she stood, alive.
Blood ran down a cut on her forehead, and she stumbled more than she walked, but still Lucina's eyes widened when her gaze met Ike's as though she saw the sun for the first time after many long winter months.
Her expression distracted Roy in his pursuit, and the Binding Blade paused for a second. A second almost long enough.
Ike crossed the distance between them and jumped at Roy, Ragnell poised to sever the king's head from his neck. A swing long overdue. But his fire spirit shielded Roy with her body. She couldn't withstand Ragnell, her form dissolved and reemerged in a swirl of flames, but she bought Roy the time and the few inches he needed to escape the deadly blow.
He retreated for breath, shoulder to shoulder with the fire spirit.
Ike let them and took up position next to Lucina.
Her breath stumbled, but the look of gratitude she gave him knew no equal. "Ike, you… you're here."
"Of course I am. You're not getting rid of me that easily. After all, I still owe you a fight." Ike raised Ragnell. "Together, okay?"
Lucina nodded and mirrored his stance. "Together."
And as before on the muddy banks of Lycia's moat, after so many failed attempts, Ragnell lit up in Ike's hand. Like flames from mythic tales, the light hissed around the blade to counter Roy's fire, and blue and red hues flickered across the polished tiles, locked in a war for control.
The same war waged on the battlements outside.
Roy lowered himself into a defensive stance. "So be it."
And together, Ike and Lucina charged.
Lucina had thought herself defeated. With Tiki gone and Cordelia far beyond her reach, all her paths had led to the same end, a death at Roy's hand. But Ike had come, against the odds and the coma that had held him captive, he had broken through the throne room door to save her.
And with him by her side, she found the strength to brush the blood from her forehead and face Roy anew.
All the training lessons Roy had chipped down to its flimsiest foundations returned to Lucina, and Falchion once more became a part of her body as she and Ike fanned out to tackle Roy from two angles.
His eyes darted, his rear foot scraped across the tiles. But he remained a master of the sword even now.
Roy spun sideways, Lucina's stroke cut air, and Ragnell and the Binding Blade clashed in an explosion of red and blue sparks. Ike had more force, but Roy knew the tricks of the game better. Two calculated sidesteps freed him from the stalemate and positioned Ike between Lucina and himself.
The fighters withdrew, probing, smelling the burnt fabric in the air.
Lucina calmed her heartbeat before she and Ike attacked. The training session they had shared on the hill outside Thria and the few precious hours on the palace's sand rotunda afterwards bound them. They knew the other's feints and techniques, even the hitch in a breath before pouncing.
But Roy evaded them still. A minimal flick of his wrist pushed Falchion backwards before he whirled around in the same beat to block Ragnell.
The game began anew.
Even in a two on one, Roy maintained a level head. He knew when to focus on his defense and how to play out his opponents against one another, shoving them around like pieces on his tiled chessboard. He might not have the opening to launch an attack himself, but he resisted all their attacks with an unmatched brilliance; minimal movement and exertion on his side, a bet on the long game.
Until either Lucina's wounds or Ike's fever-weakened lungs would end the fight.
But the long game was riddled with openings for mistakes. Lucina broke through Roy's defensive patterns and grazed his right leg. Ike used a delayed counter to manage a cut into Roy's shoulder.
Roy hissed with pain, and his eyes darted back and forth between Ike and Lucina as he calculated who of them was more likely to land the death blow. Finally, their superior numbers chased the sweat onto his forehead.
Except, they weren't fighting a two on one.
A kick to her knee drove Lucina backwards, her left leg gave in, and before she could reforge her balance, Sêl appeared in front of her. She wielded pure fire.
The heat cut into Lucina's skin, every breath was a raging hell in her throat as flames twirled and danced and weaved a net around her. She couldn't run, couldn't retreat, couldn't breathe.
Falchion cut through Sêl again and again in a blind storm, but she reappeared a moment later with a new inferno to torment Lucina. Her fingertips boiled. The taste of her own burnt hair stung in Lucina's mouth. Naga's fire magic surged to devour her, spread its arms to trap her flesh in a deadly embrace and gift a final infernal blessing.
Barely able to stand, Lucina looked past the web of flames towards Ike. Her chest cramped.
Undisturbed by a second fighter, Roy assailed Ike with a thunderstorm of hits, every thrust a fatal lightning bolt, every swing a shower of sparks. Ike backed away, Ragnell too slow and too heavy in his hands. Steel on steel, again and again, and each time the Binding Blade inched closer to Ike's neck.
Lucina's legs quivered, and she swallowed another lungful of fiery air without tasting it. Sêl capitalized on her distraction.
A whip of fire shot through the air, burned into Lucina's left arm, and before she felt her fingers slipping from Falchion, a pained scream had already escaped her lips.
Ike's head whirled towards her, only for one second. A second too long.
Roy mustered a heavy swing, Ragnell dipped to the side, and suddenly there was nothing to protect Ike's torso. The Binding Blade shone as a divine ray of punishment. And if it completed its movement, Ike would die. His collarbone would snap, his chest would burst open with blood, and his heartbeat, just recovered from the brink of death, would stop to leave Lucina in silence. Forever.
Roy, her prophesized enemy, her childhood hero, her father, and the pillar of her world, raised the sword to slay the man Lucina could not lose. The man who had saved her three times, on the bloodstained plaza of Aurelis, on the rain-lashed battlements of Lycia, and now from Roy – for everything he had done for her, he would die. And she, although she had once held all the strings in her hand, had been too weak to prevent it.
Her arm corroded with echoes of Sêl's fire, the blood from her forehead wound dripped over her eyebrows, but Lucina willed her legs forward all the same. With a scream from deep within her chest, she jumped through Sêl.
The fire swept through her body, threatened to consume and dissolve her, but Lucina did not slow her steps.
Five short steps shrunk to nothing, she dove into the blue of Roy's glacier eyes, and before the Binding Blade touched Ike, she rammed Falchion through Roy.
The Binding Blade slipped from Roy's fingers. He felt it, so heavy. From his abdomen where Lucina had struck him, cold expanded and circled his veins. A surprise; after all this time Lucina had finally raised her sword to kill. Was he proud? Angry with himself for sealing his fate when he had told Sêl to release Ike from her flames? Saddened by the victory and the Pheraen Empire escaping his grasp?
He could not say for sure.
His breath tasted of blood.
Tears glimmered in Lucina's eyes as she drew Falchion back for the killing blow. A clean, merciful swing to behead Roy.
He hardly saw her. The cold lay its fingers around his throat. But as his vision faded, his eyes met Sêl's. The terror, the pain, all the sorrow he had wished to shield her from swirled on her face. So human. So very beautiful.
You promised, Roy mouthed as he stumbled.
Sêl could not cry. Only nod.
Before the blade of Lucina's sword kissed Roy's neck, Sêl reached him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and lit his cold skin with her fire.
Roy embraced her.
His world went up in flames. And finally, he felt its warmth.
Notes: If I managed to keep you guessing until the end as to how this fight would conclude, I'm happy. I myself had to choke a few times while rereading this chapter, and I will take this as a good sign. At some point, the countless rounds of editing have to end (and hopefully pay off). The aftermath and thus the conclusion to Book II should follow next week, in the new year. It's not too soon to hope for a great 2023, is it? Until then!
