Jill had heeded her promise. That next morning, despite the still heavy cloud of grief that hung above her, she rose from bed. She bathed. She dressed. Someone had thought to wash her clothes during her period of grief and rest.
Torgal was sitting expectantly by the door, ready to greet the new world with her just as she promised Charon she would. Still, Jill found herself hesitating. There were missives that needed attention. She had overheard the others speaking of a new wave of plights for the now magic-less bearers. Monsters still roamed in places they shouldn't and the hideaway needed her. But this step, this step meant moving on, pressing forward.
Without him.
She took a shuddering breath, and gritted her teeth. She would do this. She would leave these chambers and help her friends, help this world usher in the second chance that Clive had bought them. It would not be wasted, she wouldn't let it.
Torgal padded to her side then, his nose bumping her hand, his body brushing against hers in what she could have sworn was a show of encouragement.
So Jill lifted her head, and took a step forward towards the new world waiting beyond those doors. Another. Her boots clicked slightly on the wood floors. Once again she let her hand drift to her abdomen, a light caress to that flickering flame within her, that last ember of the one she loved.
Jill faltered no longer. She strode right to the chamber doors and heaved them open.
It was the sound of the Orchestrian that she noticed first. The song playing was a lilting melody and she knew it well. Clive's favorite. On nights they made it home after a particularly hard mission, they would take a seat at one of the Fat Chocobo's tables, and just let the music soothe them.
One night in particular flashed in her mind. The night after Theo had turned. Clive had been so silent as they'd trekked home through the desert, his sword still grasped in his hand like he hadn't been able to leave the fight behind, just waiting for further bloodshed after a day so full of it.
When they'd made it back to the hideaway, he'd strode straight up the steps and up to the bar, his boots thudding on the wood floors from his weighted steps. Somehow, a tankard was waiting for him like word had traveled here before they'd arrived and Molly knew he'd head straight here. Indeed, the night was quiet, only the lute player strumming softly nearby. Clive knocked back his drink, throat working, chest heaving. He'd wiped his mouth and then slowly turned towards the tables. He sat his sword down first, then began to work on his armored shoulders. His vambraces, his gloves. Jill had just watched his processional, listening to the clink and thud of his armor as he laid it on the table. Until he turned towards her, eyes full of sorrow, but also… longing.
Jill had stepped towards him but he turned again, this time to stride towards the Orchestrian. He pressed one of the dials and then a beautiful pianoforte sounded around them. A sorrowful, lamenting song that crashed with life.
He was in front of her again, his hand grazing her own, those blue eyes locking on hers.
"Dance with me, Jill." He whispered as he pulled her to him, symphony rising and falling around them. They were alone now. The barmaid and even the lute player had scampered off somewhere.
So she squeezed his hand and let him take her with him, her body so close to his, their breaths mingling as his hand gripped her waist and he began to move, leading her in small circles, a remnant of a life long buried where they'd danced at Rosalith castle after an awkward Clive sheepishly asked for her hand.
There wasn't an ounce of nervousness anymore, not since that night on the beach that had changed everything.
At some point, Clive's cheek brushed her own and there was dampness there. She'd looked up at him then, their dance coming to a stop but still they held each other. Jill's hand cupped his cheek, her fingers wiping at that stray tear. His eyes burned as they looked upon her face, the blue like that of the hottest flame.
And then he was kissing her. His beard scratched lightly at her face, and his lips, warm and soft pressed fervently into hers and she opened for him. Life. Their kiss was life itself after a day of death. She knew he'd needed it. Knew as his hands tightened on her waist, one reaching up to tangle in the end of her braid, tugging gently as the music reached its crescendo that they needed this reminder of life, would need much more by the end of the night.
Jill blinked, clearing the memory from her mind, trying to ignore the phantom tug on her hair. She pulled a breath deep into her lungs, and strode onward- only to smack right into a broad shouldered man dressed in blue.
"So sorry my dear!" The man, said, turning to face her fully. She knew those broad shoulders, the grey beard. As Lord Byron took in her face at last, his seemed to fall, whatever mask he'd been wearing slipping. "My… my dear." His usually jovial voice faded to a near whisper. "Jill, oh, Jill."
"Lord Byron," Jill began, and stopped. Stopped before the emotions she'd worked so hard at reigning in threatened to surface- as Clive's uncle grabbed her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Oh my dear, I'm so sorry." He said into her hair, his arms like a vice grip around her as his voice wavered.
Jill pushed against his hold lightly, enough that he loosened his arms and she stepped back. She looked up at the man, his age somehow more evident than it had ever been. The fine clothes, the slicked hair and jovial voice couldn't hide the sorrow etched beneath. The sorrow of an uncle who'd lost his nephews not once, but twice over.
"Please, my Lord-" Jill began, but Byron stopped her with a shake of his head.
"Byron, please, no formalities. Not from you dear," he pleaded, gripping her shoulders. Jill simply nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Are you alright? Is there ought I can do for you? Name it, and it will be done, Clive would wish it so." His eyes searched her face, a desperation in them to do something, anything.
Jill steeled her nerve, and swallowed. "Thank you, but what I need most of all is Lord Byron Rosfield. There is much work to be done, and I would seek your aid in seeing it through, for Clive. Will you help me?"
Bryon's eyes seemed to brighten at that. He was but a grieving uncle, but yes, yes, he could play this part. Play the Warden of Port Isolde, Lord Byron Rosfield.
"Of course, my dear. Lead the way!" That jovial voice returned despite the pain in his eyes, and he gave her shoulders one last squeeze before turning, arm splaying wide before them as he motioned her towards the stairs leading to the main deck.
She followed where he'd motioned, and strode down the stairs, across the deck, and up the last set of stairs towards the map room to see Vivian, the one person she knew could catch her up to speed. Gav was already there, bent over the table with a few cursebreakers around him who were listening to his every word as he motioned to a few points on the map. Otto was in the back of the room, leaning against the wall of the fallen ruin, arms banded across his chest, face stern as usual.
Jill and Byron approached and Otto and the others came to attention. It took Gav a minute to register the silence before he too, looked up. Jill only cleared her throat. No more tears for today.
"What news?" She simply stated. Gav's eye met hers, and he just nodded a half smile on his face as if to say, welcome back.
It was Vivian who replied. "As usual, chaos. Magic is gone, and order with it. The empire is no more, its leaders gone, and those left behind squabbling for what remnants of power they can, not to mention that the people are still fresh in their despair of the ruin of twinside." A slight wince from Vivian at that. "The populace is left to fend for itself, stumbling like blind men in the new world order."
Gav shook his head then. "The Bearers, o'course weren't just let go either. Aye, they're still slaves, just non-magic ones now."
"Or dead ones." Otto added flatly.
"What do you mean?" Jill asked, chest tightening.
"Ah," Gav hesitated. "Ya see, the cursebreakers have been gettin' reports of Master's slaughterin' their bearers now that they've got no magic. They're angry and scared, and blamin' the one people they've always blamed."
Jill's stomach twisted something fierce at that, nausea roiling. She placed a hand over her mouth, and focused on breathing through her nose. Byron cast a glance her way, a hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. But the wave subsided.
"Monsters," she breathed. Gav nodded, Otto humphed his agreement.
"Indeed," Vivian continued. "With the empire in chaos, the worst behavior goes unchallenged. The dragoons are spread thin, their ranks broken. We were just discussing sending out teams to aid the bearers that we can, but more than that, we need to gather the leaders. That, is where you come in Lord Rosfield."
Jill's thoughts had snagged on the dragoons, those fierce warriors, now leaderless with Dion's demise. He would have righted the empire, had he survived.
"At your service, my lady." Byron bowed, and Vivian smirked.
"The connections have been made, my nephew's merry band of outlaws saw to that. The treaty rests in his chamber now. We need only regroup, and see what leaders we can manage to gather from the empire to sort out a plan." The whole room seemed to flinch at the mere mention of Clive, but they pressed on.
Soon, Gav and Jill were divvying up cursebreaker groups and monster sightings, Dorris arriving and joining in the planning. Vivian and Lord Byron argued back and forth on the various territories and their leaders and where exactly such a gathering could take place. Then Otto began distributing what looked like copies of manuscripts and blueprints of Mid's various contraptions.
That drew Jill and Gav's attention again. Indeed, the cursebreakers were needed to aid the bearers, but the distribution of these plans was just as vital. If the populace could turn their attention towards their new methods of survival, if they could stem the panic, perhaps the plight of the bearers would lessen, and lives would be saved.
And on and on the conversation went.
After hours of discussion and debate, the plan was set. Dorris would lead the Cursebreaker groups in Sanbreque, quelling the worst of the monsters, human and other. Otto would continue working with Mid to draft copies of the plans, and Jill and Gav would see them distributed to their allies at Martha's Rest, Northreach, Lostwing, Dalimil, and Boklad. Lord Byron would see to it that the leaders gathered received copies as well, and Hyporcrates would join him. They'd need a scholar to make them see reason.
As the sun set, the group began to depart. Cursebreakers and messengers set sail under the light of the moon, their orders now in hand. Otto and Byron departing to the shelves to speak with Harpocrates.
Until it was just Vivian, Gav, and Jill as the silence settled once more. Vivian just gave Jill's hand a brief squeeze as she passed her, leaving the room to Gav and Jill.
Gav was still staring at the map table, the figures and plans strewn across it from the hours of planning.
"I can't do this." Gav's words cut the night's silence like a knife. "I don't know how. How to lead. It weren't supposed to come to this. I'm just a scout."
Jill's throat tightened at the pain and doubt in his voice.
"That's not true, Gav. Clive chose you, as Cid chose him." She walked around the table to his side, and he looked up at last.
"I'm no Cid." He said, closing his eye, his scar across his other stark in the lantern light.
"You are, Gav. We all are. We carry him… carry them both with us always, everyone in the hideaway." A tear glinted in Jill's eyes, the first since she'd left Clive's chambers.
"Aye. We all are. So why don't you lead?" Gav challenged.
"I… he chose you, Gav." Jill shook her head.
Gav's voice was soft, and there was a tenderness in his face as he looked at her. "He chose you too, Jill."
"I don't know what you mean." Jill breathed, waiting for an explanation.
"He told me so, 'fore he left. Told me I was the next Cid should the worst happen, and when I asked him why it weren't you, he said it were because ya needed to spread your wings. He didn't want to burden you."
Jill's heart ached at that. Yes, she'd wanted to spread her wings, see what else this world could offer but with him at her side. Without Clive, she didn't know what she wanted. To see that his sacrifice was not in vain. To raise their child in his new world, surrounded with love and people who would fill her son or daughter's days with stories of their father, so that they might know him.
"Oh, Clive." She whispered, that tear falling at last.
"He said you'd given enough, and he were right you know. Ya have, Jill." Gav's hand rested on her shoulder.
"He was always so aware of what other's had given, and yet he gave up the most, Gav." Her words were broken by a shuddering intake of breath. "He gave everything for this world, how can we not do the same?" Jill sobbed in earnest then, and Gav's arms circled her.
"I know." He said. "I know." Gav gripped her tight, his own tears falling. They remained in their embrace for some time until their tears subsided. Gav released her, and when Jill looked up at him, it was with renewed determination.
"Together, then. We'll carry their names together."
"Aye," Gav smiled. "Together."
…
The next morning, Jill was readying to depart. Her sword hung at her side once more. Torgal trotted behind her as they made their way to the mess to break their fast before she'd depart for Martha's Rest. From there, she'd go to Lostwing and the Northern Reach. Gav meanwhile, would head to Dalimil to meet with Lubor and then Boklad.
As she approached the table, the tune of a lute playing from the Orchestrian, Jill realized she felt lighter today. She had a plan, a purpose. For the first time she felt like she could do this… she could live.
And then the bells began ringing, three even keels.
Someone was coming.
Jill whirled, running to the main deck to look out at the waters at the lone, unknown ship approaching.
People were shouting. Otto's voice ringing out over the din, "Cursebreakers, to the dock!" Indeed men and women were already running to the lift, swords swinging in their sheaths.
But Jill couldn't move, not as a lone hooded figure made their way to the helm of the ship. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, couldn't think.
One name chanting in her head over and over, Clive. Clive, Clive, Clive.
Then a hand was on her shoulder, someone was saying her name. Gav. She whirled to him, but he was looking past her now at that lone figure, and she supposed his face mirrored her own with that small bit of hope lighting his face.
His eye met hers then, and together they dashed for the lift, Gav throwing the lever while Jill ran right to the gate, like she'd burst through it if it didn't open fast enough.
Seconds ticked by and the ship loomed ever closer. Then the lift halted and that gate screeched open, and Jill was sprinting to the dock, as fast as her feet could carry her, Gav just a step behind.
Otto was there too, a team of cursebreakers behind him, swords drawn just in case. His face was as stoic as usual though, like he held no room for hope, like he didn't dare.
Jill turned from him. She stood at the edge of the dock as that ship came closer and closer. Her hands shook, and she clenched them into fists, kept her head high. Gav was silent beside her, one hand on his sword, the other on his chest like he was praying.
The lone figure became clear then. The man was tall, but slim under his thin brown robes. The shoulders far too narrow, nowhere near the breadth of Clive's.
It wasn't him. It wasn't him.
A shuddering breath escaped Jill's lips, just as Gav's shoulders seemed to sink, as he realized the same. But they didn't allow the grief to take them. Instead, they drew their swords, ready to spill blood to protect this place should the stranger give any hint of ill intent.
The boat moored then, the gang plank coming down to the dock and she and Gav went to greet it, swords in hand and chins high.
As the man approached, as his feet hit the gang plank, his hands came up to his hood and lifted it.
A mop of bright red hair glinted in the morning sun as Joshua Rosfield smiled down at them.
Jill's sword clattered to the dock, her hand coming up to cover her mouth and the gasp that had fell from it. She stepped back a step, another at the ghost that approached them.
Gav was still staring, his sword still clutched firmly in his hand like he didn't believe it but he managed to step away from the gang plank as Joshua descended and strode for Jill.
And as Joshua stopped in front of her, his eyes shining, a pained smile still on his face, Jill fell to her knees. Joshua went with her, his arms grasping hers as he hauled her to him, squeezing her into a tight embrace.
"Joshua. You're alive. You're alive." She whispered, and sobbed. She clutched his body to hers, her face buried in his shoulder as he gripped her tightly. "It's really you." She breathed.
"It's me, Jill." Joshua murmured.
She didn't know how long she held him, kneeling on that dock. The cursebreakers had departed after Otto declared everything safe. He and Gav hung back, giving the pair some space.
Finally, Joshua released her. Jill leaned back on her heels, hands now clutching Joshua's, like she needed the contact to know that he was real. She looked at him then, really looked at him. His shirt cut into a v down his chest, and where once a bluish wound had laid, now there was nothing but smooth pale skin.
Indeed, Joshua looked healthy. Strong. Jill released one of his hands, and reached up to trace that spot on his chest, not believing her eyes.
"How? How is it that you survived?" She couldn't hide the wonder in her voice, the utter disbelief at who knelt before her. Nor could she hide the other questioned that burned in her throat. "Dion? Cli-" she couldn't say it, couldn't utter his name.
Joshua's face fell then. Such a sadness in his eyes, in the droop of his shoulders. His head dipped as he shook it. Gav and Otto had come a little closer now, like they too had the same burning question.
Joshua struggled to speak but as he looked at Jill, then Otto and Gav, he fought past it. His brother's people, his brother's love, that's who surrounded him, who waited with bated breath for the tale they'd only guessed at.
"Dion fell to Ultima. He bought us time." Jill only nodded. She knew the Prince had no intention of returning from that battle, that the guilt of what happened at Twinside laid heavily upon his heart, and he would give everything to right that wrong.
It was Gav who stepped forward then. "And… and Clive?"
Joshua just bowed his head, and those were tears falling down his cheeks, landing on the wooden boards beneath. He took a few breaths. Lifted his head. And began his tale.
Jill listened to every word. About the mother crystals, and the trap they'd fallen right into. How Joshua had died, giving the last of the Pheonix's power to Clive, to do what needed to be done. And he had. Clive had done it, killed Ultima and so much more.
"I woke briefly after he brought me back, before he used whatever power of Ultima's that he'd taken to portal me out. I heard him. Heard him say that he would right it all." His brother's last words fell from his lips then. Jill felt like she was dying, like she was realizing he was gone for the first time all over again.
Even if it means the end of me.
"Then I was in Rosaria, and the crystal shattered." Joshua was whispering now, tears flowing freely as they did on all their faces.
Jill was shaking. He had killed Ultima, saved his brother, and then saved them all. Of course he had.
"I do not see how he could have survived it," Joshua continued. "To draw on that much aether, to remake the world, there would surely be a cost. One he was willing to pay."
"Aye," Gav said, sniffling. "Aye, o'course he was."
Otto and Gav departed then, leaving them alone on the deck. The latter brushing a hand over her shoulder before walking away.
Once they were alone, Jill let her hand drift to Joshua's face, and lifted his chin. Joshua's face was the portrait of devastation. His lips wobbled and her heart cracked as he wept, "I'm so sorry, Jill. I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back to you."
She shushed him, her own tears falling to join his on the decks below. "He brought you back to us. His greatest honor, Joshua, was being your Shield. He loved you so much." Joshua nodded, a pained smile gracing his face even as his body shuddered with a silent sob.
"As he loved you, Jill." She nodded, eyes closing as she hugged Joshua to her once more.
Minutes, or perhaps hours passed before they gathered themselves. Joshua followed her up to the main deck, and to Clive's chambers. Otto and Gav had made quick work of spreading the news of who had arrived to the hideaway and what news Joshua had brought. Everyone they passed had nearly nodded, or laid a hand on their chest, with tears or sorrow in their eyes. What little hope remained that Cid was out there somewhere, now gone.
They didn't linger in the hall long, before she was shutting the door to Clive's chamber behind them.
Joshua looked around the room in silence and slowly walked to the table across the room where Clive's belongings remained displayed where he'd left them. He looked at them all, proof of all the people Clive had helped. All the people who loved and followed his brother. The Guardian's scarf, led by Sir Wade, as Clive had told him. Sir Wade who had once told the grand tale of Clive's morbol slaughter, and who had found his courage that day to fight on for Rosaria after the Night of Flames.
A wreath of snow daisies lay slightly wilted next to it, a reminder of the love and future he had left behind with his sacrifice.
Clive's training sword leaned against the table, rusted and worn, but a reminder of all those days Joshua had spent watching Clive spar in the training ring, training to take his vows, to shield him forevermore.
But his eyes came to rest on his father's helm, his fingers lightly tracing the intricate swirls of the metal. Clive was just like their father, so strong, a natural born leader. Though, Clive never saw himself as such. His brother had always doubted himself, when it was he who was chosen, who was special.
He hadn't seen Jill come up beside him.
"Rosaria is free now, you know. Will you return?" Jill asked, though her eyes remained on the snow daisy wreath.
"I… I don't know. It seems wrong somehow. The throne has always belonged to the Phoenix, but I am the Phoenix no longer. I've been gone for so long, what if the people don't want me as their ruler, after all they've endured?" Jill looked up at that.
"You will always be the Phoenix, Joshua. The last Phoenix. You who rose from the ashes, not once but twice. The Guardians of the Flame, they will welcome you, and see you on the throne."
"Yes, though, I do not know whether a throne even remains after what Clive told me about Kupka's last visit." He said, setting the helm down. Jill winced at that, the memory of that visit. The chill breeze on the back of her neck as she'd awaited the executioner's strike.
"You will rebuild. Rosaria will endure as it always has." Jill encouraged.
"Will you join me?" Joshua asked, a hint of hope in his voice. "The people remember you, Jill. They've seen you fighting side by side with Clive these past years. They will need your strength, too."
Jill blinked. She hadn't thought of ever returning to Rosalith. Even when she envisioned that future with Clive, it hadn't been back at that castle.
"I'm not so sure I can return. To walk those halls everyday, to remember what happened that night. I'm not so sure it's where… we belong." Jill said the last part with a hand on her abdomen, smiling slightly at Joshua as he turned towards her, confusion on his face.
He glanced down at where her hand remained, and his eyes widened as they snapped back up to hers.
"Are you… are you really?" He whispered, awe in his voice.
"I am. You're to be an uncle." Her smile widened then as Joshua began laughing, a joyous sound as tears came to his eyes anew, but for a far better reason.
She joined him, laughing for the first time since the birth of Edda's baby, moments before everything had gone to hell. Joshua pulled her into a hug, so strong now where he'd once been frail.
"Oh, Jill. He would be ecstatic." Joshua smiled into her hair.
Jill pulled away to look up at him. "A piece of him, with us always."
"Indeed. Oh Jill, won't you come to Rosalith? Your child will be a Prince or Princess of the realm, adored by all of Rosaria." Joshua's eyes were pleading. He could see it now, a young girl with her father's mop of black hair, her mother's ice blue eyes, running with Torgal through the keep or sparring with him and Jote in the training ring.
He would tell them so many tales of their father. Show them all the places a young Clive had trained, ate, and laughed. Jill looked at him, like she could see it too.
"I will consider it. But first, there's work to be done here at the hideaway. I want this child to be free, to see what this new life has to offer before the whole of Rosaria is bowing and calling them lord or lady." Jill looked back to that table, to the snow daisy wreath, and seemed a world away when she continued. "But perhaps, someday. When the work is done, and the twins are on their way to that better future he fought for. Perhaps then, we'll settle down in Rosalith. But not before we've spread our wings."
Joshua smiled at her. "Then I shall await that day. Until then, you and my niece or nephew will visit often, yes?"
"Of course," she promised.
"Then I suppose I should embark on the rebuilding efforts immediately. There will be a celebration worthy of a song when they are born, and I would see Rosaria shining when you come to visit."
Jill laughed at that, and again that warmth flickered inside her, like her child could feel the love already radiating from their uncle.
"I'll hold you to that." She said, squeezing his hand in earnest.
"Right then. Onwards." Joshua stood tall then, proud. She could see the echo of Clive, of their father in that stance. It was the Archduke of Rosaria that smiled down upon her, a renewed purpose in his eyes.
"Onwards." She agreed.