Here she was, in the world she, Clive, and everyone around her had dreamt of creating: a world free of magic, without Bearers or Dominants; a world where anyone could live and die on their own terms. Was it wrong that Jill's terms at that moment happened to be to mourn the fact that the person she loved most was no longer in it? That she could not see a purpose for herself, with no crystals to destroy or gods to fell?

Jill had always detested war, but she had kept on fighting for the sake of those she loved. What was she to do now that the fighting was over? She had once dreamt of leaving the Twins behind, to see the lands beyond, but that had been when she thought it would be an adventure she could share with Clive. The realm around her still felt small, but the air seemed to have left the wings she had wished to stretch.

"Is that correct, Jill?" A voice pulled her out of her thoughts, bringing her back to where she sat at a table in the Ale Hall, to the red-haired man in front of her, a quill set to a page.

"I'm sorry, Joshua," Jill replied. "What were you saying?"

"I was confirming some of the details of what occurred at Drake's Breath. I've heard the tale, but I want as accurate an account as possible."

If you had been there yourself, you would have all the information you need. Jill often fought against thoughts like these, especially these days. She could only imagine what struggles Joshua had had in his solitary journey to defeat Ultima, with no one to confide at times save Jote. She also had a hard time understanding why he had not revealed himself in over a decade to the brother he loved, who she had watched crumble under the belief that he had killed the one person he had been duty-bound to protect? Why had Joshua left Clive to cling to a single phoenix feather, desperate to reunite? Then, worst of all, he had returned alone.

When Joshua returned from Origin with neither Prince Dion nor Clive, he confirmed what her heart and spirit already had already known: that Clive had left this world. She knew it was unfair of her, but, even all these weeks later, she could not help but resent at times that Joshua had lived to write their story when Clive hadn't.

"You looked to be miles away," Gav, seated next to Joshua, noted. "Haven't even touched your stew."

"Not hungry," Jill shook her head. "I probably couldn't keep it down, anyway."

"Still no appetite, yet with nausea?" Joshua frowned. "I wish you would go to Tarja."

"You bloody dolts," Mid, on the seat next to Jill, gave each man a pointed look. "Leave the girl be."

"It's alright," Jill assured. "But this isn't something Tarja can heal."

"I know full well there are some things only time can mend," Joshua ceded the point. "But I would hate for you to persist like this if there's a chance there's something else going on that Tarja could help with."

"Funny coming from the man who practically had to be forced to take his own medicine," Mid scoffed.

"I-"

"I think I'll go to my quarters for a bit," Jill said, perhaps a bit too sharply. She stood, doing her best to ignore the slight dizziness that accompanied it. She quickly turned to leave.

"Jill, wait-"

She ignored Joshua's attempt to call her back, barely hearing Mid tell him "Let her go." When she finally reached her own private room, she closed and locked the door behind her. She sank down to the ground with her back to it, grateful for the peace and silence. She hugged her knees to her chest, no longer fighting back the fresh tears that welled up.

Curse these tears, Jill thought. There never seemed to be an end to them. Aware as she was of her right to grieve, it seemed a betrayal to Clive, somehow. He would want her to move on, find a new purpose even though he was gone. She wanted to find a new purpose, to live. But what form would that purpose take? Joshua had turned to writing, ensuring that the world would never forget the sacrifices made in the name of its freedom. What could she do?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Joshua's voice came through when she didn't answer.

"Jill?" he began. "I am sorry if I upset you. I am only worried about you. You have always been like a sister to me."

He paused, and Jill had no response. She heard a slight shifting outside, as if Joshua had slid to the ground as well.

"Writing and going on as I do, I must seem like a cad, as if I have moved on from my own brother so shortly after everything happened. The truth is I grieve him just as you do. I grieve the years we lost, the life we could have had together. I scolded him more than once about facing his troubles alone, when I myself never reached out to him in person for eighteen years, and now I face never knowing what might have been. You above anyone else can understand that, and I would never wish to push you away when we might shoulder this burden together. I will leave you to your peace now, but know that I am ever here for you."

Jill heard gentle footfalls begin to retreat down the corridor. Before they could get too far, she stood and opened her door.

"Joshua," she called out, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to face her. "I am here for you, too. I've been so caught up in my own feelings, pitying myself for how unfair this fate seems, and I forgot when I'm not the only one who lost someone that day. I blamed you, when you of all people were not at fault. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me…"

Before she could continue, Joshua had closed the gap between them and placed his arms around her. Jill did the same, and the two put their heads on each other's shoulders. How long had it been since she had let herself enjoy the warmth of another's touch? Why had she denied her own to the one who needed it most since Clive had died?

"There is nothing to forgive, dear sister."

They stood there for a while, each unwilling to pull away. When they finally parted, each wiped their eyes on their sleeve, revealing tentative smiles. Whatever came next, they could face it together.