Rising From the Ashes

Chapter 3 - Flicker of Hope

Rated: T

Chapter Summary: In order to ease Jill's worries, Clive finds work around the Hideaway that's less strenuous on his slowly-healing body. With nothing better to do, he finds himself going through the letters he missed during his long sleep. And while him and Jill are preparing for a relaxing evening, Clive receives a missive that sends his entire world upside down.

RIP Dion. You were a real one.

After the heart to heart with Jill, Clive stopped taking such drastic risks.

As loath as he was to admit it in the fog of his grief and stubbornness, Jill was right. Per usual as she was regarding most instances. Clive had wanted to deny it but he couldn't run from the truth any longer. The fight with Ultima had taken so much out of him, body and soul alike, and it was foolhardy to think he could push beyond it by his will alone. While the spirit was willing, and stubborn as hell, he learned the hard way that the flesh was very, very weak.

For a short time, Clive's body had been the embodiment of Mythos. A legendary being encasing the very power of the Dominants Phoenix, Ifrit, Garuda, Ramuh, Titan, Bahamut, Shiva, and Odin with the ability dredged from Ultima's dying hand. The godlike powers fluttering at his fingertips allowing him to destroy the last of the Mothercrystals and bring an end to Valisthea's desperate reliance on the crystal's magick once and for all.

Yet that didn't last.

Clive nearly died in the process, only surviving by Joshua's sacrifice. The body he inhabited now was tired. Weakened greatly from a battle he knew he shouldn't have endured, much less returned from in more or less one piece. It was akin to accepting his identity as the Dominant of Ifrit all along, Clive now needed to accept the truth that he simply wasn't filled with that seemingly limitless power anymore, nor did he want it really.

He was just Clive, a mere man after all…

And that was enough.

For the following sunrises, Clive spent his energy focusing on getting healthier, eating more, sleeping in and allowing his body to recover in its own time and pace. No longer allowed to push himself to the brink, he began finding more work around the Hideaway that didn't have him receiving new wounds or tearing open older ones. Using his words rather than the pointed edge of his sword to get things accomplished, and little by little, he found it became easier to adjust to this more sedentary existence - at least for now.

Small miracles were happening it seemed for neither Jill nor Tarja never had to remind him to take his daily medicine anymore.

Loath to admit he was wrong, but Byron, Otto, Cursebreakers and the Guardians of the Flame were more than happy, eager actually, to pick up his heavy slack. Uncle Byron wasted no time calling favors to their allies in neighboring towns to keep the monsters swarming the cities at bay, to destroy the last of the curse the crystals, magick and Akashic beings that Ultima left behind in his wake.

Blackthorne and Charon began stepping up to supply struggling soldiers with new and improved weaponry to keep the monsters at bay, their towns and people safe. Wade and the remaining Shields of Rosaria trained willing men and women to be able to handle the hoards of monsters lingering at their gates.

Isabelle, Quentin, and Martha happily providing shelter, food and necessities for the new soldiers being sent out to defend the towns. L'ubor, Maria and Theodore using their connections and businesses to help push supplies to towns that had been overrun and nearly destroyed by monsters or battles to get back on their feet. The lack of crystals even had Midadol to put her airship building on hold in order to begin mass producing filters for blighted water as she did for the Hideaway so many years ago. Their gardener Nigel and his students had even began traveling and teaching farmers to help create healthier soil to save their fledgling crops.

All of the contributions from those willing to help was saving countless lives that would have been utterly destroyed with lack of crystals to rely on.

It had only been a single moon cycle since he returned and slowly, but surely, things began to improve.

Everything it seemed had been getting better - even his relationship with Jill.

Clive's cheeks heated as hot as Ifrit's fire at the sudden memories he recalled from last night. He was able to finally make love to Jill for the first time since he'd returned from battle. The curse stone-like left hand hadn't even been an issue as much as he tried to make it as such. The beautiful woman who'd owned his heart since he was a teenager was more than eager to work with him through his new disability with nothing but patience and unconditional kindness. Showcasing the intimacy and love they had between each other only growing stronger as the blissful days they spent together carried on.

And while things were far from perfect with the constant skirmishes, creeping famines, and the sheer doubt of the populace at large who acted as if they would die in a matter of months without the crystals to sustain their every frivolous need and want. Not to mention the powerful and money-hungry traces of the political reign over Valisthea refusing to loosen their grip. It was a battle that hopefully wouldn't result in more needless bloodshed (there had been far too much killing already) but Clive wasn't going to hold his breath over it. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

After all, Cid had said it wouldn't be easy.

The prophecy of his words hit harder than ever now. How it'll be much more difficult before it becomes easier was no doubt gospel at this point in time. Yet, Clive remained positive in the brunt of all of the misgivings. it was slowly improving for all - Bearers and Non-Bearers alike. Perhaps not in his lifetime or the next generation after but eventually, there would be those generations who would see a world truly free of the crystals and magick that tore their world asunder. All the work they were doing now was merely a start.

The most important thing to take away from all the struggle was that, after everything, they were finally, truly free now.

Cid stoked a flame lit by his father and to be here still breathing in a world where he hoped they were proudly looking on from the other side would have to be enough to keep moving forward regardless of the difficulties they would face.

A sudden pang echoed deep in his chest.

The worst part of this all was that as content as he was seeing the small improvements being made at the Hideaway and all over the realm, little by little, there would always be a Joshua-shaped hole in his heart. The brother he loved so dearly, would be missing from his life forever. It was the one loss he'd endured that he truly would never fully recover from even as his body gradually regained its strength.

As much as Clive wanted nothing more than for Joshua and Dion to have returned victorious at his side - fate had a different plan.

Yet as much as he wished at times he could trade places with his brother, Clive would never take for granted nor push away this gift of life Joshua had bequeathed him so selflessly. Til his dying day, Clive was now living for his brother - to bear the brunt of his legacy he left behind. To live out the life for both of them, as difficult as it would be. But at the end of it all, Clive was merely determined to make him proud.

That was the promise he made to Joshua and Clive intended to keep it.

Clive let out a frustrated sigh as he sat in the wooden chair in front of his writing desk with Torgal softly snoring near his feet. Feeling rather useless as of late but not wanting to cause Jill any more strife than he already had, Clive peered at the pile of missives awaiting his attention.

All the physical work that needed doing in the Hideaway had already been completed. Mid's Lab, Charon's Storeroom, The Library, the Gardens, the Mess - it was all taken care of and he'd been shooed away by Otto and Gav more times than he could count. And there were only so many fanciful stories by Nektar the Bold he could handle in one sitting without getting very inebriated first… Jill had already disallowed him hard alcohol until he healed fully anyway.

As much as Clive's body screamed to move to bloody do something, there was far little more he could do to help out without incurring Jill or Tarja's wrath. While he could finally admit that he wasn't up to fighting hoards of monsters just yet, he supposed this was one thing he was capable of at this point until his body fully recovered.

…If it ever did.

Shaking his head of the morbid thoughts he refused to entertain, Clive reached for the letter on the top and opened it.

It was harder than it looked given he only had the one usable hand. A downright struggle to flip through all the new letters upon his desk, but with nothing but grit and determination, Clive eventually figured it out. The man chuckled upon finding his useless stone hand was actually quite suited for a paperweight while penning out a reply to L'ubor in Dhelmekia. Putting that finished letter aside, Clive continued with the next one until the sun grew low in the sky and his writing hand was cramping something awful. He'd also made a mental note to purchase more ink from Charon soon.

Clive leaned back in his chair, stretching out his fingers to abate the numbness in his stiff knuckles when Jill entered their room with a tray filled with what he assumed was dinner.

Dammit, was it already that late?

"You missed dinner in the mess," Jill informed him with a disappointed tilt of her mouth. "Everyone was asking for you."

Clive drug his flesh hand across his eyes in hopes to wipe away the soreness lingering there from staring at nothing but white paper and black ink since sunrise. "Sorry. Time slipped away from me today, I'll be sure to be join everyone tomorrow."

"You'd better, it's not the same without you there. So, what have you been doing today?" Jill shot him a look as if expecting him to say he'd been disobeying her and Tarja's orders of bedrest.

Clive put those concerns of hers to rest with a fond smile, "Well, since I had nothing better to do while sitting on my arse all day per Tarja, and your orders mind I add, I thought it best to reply to all the missives I received these past few weeks."

"Oh really? Well, it's about time. Did you know that even Gav's been getting letters asking for you to make sure you're doing alright? That poor bloke thought he finally received a love letter. He was so disappointed," Jill informed him with a smile and slight laugh as Clive rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smirk either.

Clive shook his head, "Everyone worries too much about me," he muttered as Jill approached with the tray. With his good hand, Clive gently moved aside a few scattered papers making sure to not smear the drying ink. Once a spot was cleared, Jill placed a tray carrying a bowl of delicious smelling Minotaur stew, three thick slices of bread with a pat of herb butter on each and a full chalice of red wine in front of him. It must be the wine Quentin had sent over going by the rich violet color and fragrant aroma. Clive reminded himself to be sure to send the man a missive of thanks.

"Well, who's fault is that?" Jill replied cheekily, her hand stroking his back before leaning down for a kiss.

Clive merely shook his head at her teasing yet still eagerly returned the kiss, breathing a slight, "Thank you, Jill," against her lips before he began eating. He didn't realize he was so incredibly famished until he took the first bite.

With nothing other to do than watch him chew, Jill began stacking the letters he penned with ink that was dried and completed. After marking the outside with their destinations, she began neatly rolling up the separate missives in preparation to be delivered. Once that task was complete, she started organizing his desk. Cleaning up a forgotten goblet and an empty plate he'd brought up from last night's dinner and placing them in the empty tray to be sent back to the mess hall.

Finished with any task she was able to do, Jill turned back to Clive only to see the love of her life sharing the reminders of his meal with the bottomless pit named Torgal.

Jill smiled behind her hand as she watched him feeding the wolf cubes of fatty Minotaur meat dripping with brown sauce, recalling a similar occasion happening back in the Duchy of Rosaria.

Many a dinner would transpire with tiny pup Torgal running under the expansive table on silent paws. The puppy happily skipping back and forth between Clive, Joshua and herself who always slipped him scraps of their meats whenever the overbearing duchess wasn't looking. Fondly recalling Edwin's smile shining like a beacon when, after his horrid wife would retire for the evening, he himself eagerly picked up the small yapping hound. Setting the happy Torgal in his lap before giving a juicy fatty piece of meat to the fine hound. His smile only widening as the tiny pup nibbled at the grease left behind on his fingers before falling asleep full and fat on the Archduke's lap.

Those were wonderful memories of a lifetime ago it seemed.

An easier time that saddened her when she realized Edwin had been gone for over eighteen summers and now Joshua was no longer with them either. Both of them had been such pillars in her early life, considered them her own family, were now completely gone from this realm, never to return.

So much loss and death that could have been so easily avoided had it not been for such greed and wretchedness that plagued Annabella's cruel black heart.

"Are you alright, Jill?" Clive's voice broke her from her reverie. The concerned furrow of his dark brows over those deep ocean blue eyes had her smile. So grateful that even if she'd lost so much, she still had Clive and Torgal by her side.

Jill nodded, "I'm fine. Just remembering back at Rosaria Castle when we would sneak food to Torgal at dinner time. His little paws batting at our shoes and legs when he wanted another bite," she giggled. The large wolf in question suddenly whined from under the desk, big head nestled in Clive's lap as the man's fingers ran through his thick fur.

"Oh yeah. I remember that," Clive chuckled while rubbing a hand into the scruff of his neck. "You haven't changed much at all, 'ave you, boy? Just a huge puppy is what you are."

Clive smiled. Stomach and heart full as Jill brought up memories of a happier, easier time in their lives. Recalling that tiny puppy who would bite at his shoes. Joshua's soft laughter as Torgal licked his fingers, Jill's eyes sparkling in the candlelight as she hid her tinkling giggles behind her hands and his father smiling at all of them as if he never wanted to be anywhere else. Clive leaned down to press a kiss into Torgal's warm furry head as his functional hand scratched at the hound's chin.

Torgal panted happily, his wagging tail pounding on the floor and Clive couldn't help but laugh.

"Nope. Haven't changed at all."

Hearing soft footsteps approaching, Clive peered up at Jill. Her radiant smile was so warm and fond, icy blue eyes swimming with far more love than he could ever deserve. Clive smiled up at her, reaching out to wrap his arm around her waist. The curse-addled hand resting comfortably against her hip and his face flushed as she pressed her hand against it, thumb soothing across his stiff knuckles. Jill's other hand began gently kneading at the back of his neck, her cool fingers gently pulling at the black wispy locks at his nape.

"Clive?"

"Yes, My Lady?" Clive looked up at her, heart warming as he watched her snowy pale cheeks turn a rosy pink at the endearment. She was so unbelievably beautiful…

Jill bit her plush bottom lip, "How about I take the tray back downstairs for the ladies to wash while you get ready for bed?" she asked. The soft desire evident in her voice still took his breath away; wondering how the hell he could have deserved to be with someone so incredible as her.

"Alright," he chuckled and nodded, despising how his cheeks burned like Ifrit's Hellfire on his skin. Only Jill could make him feel like that shy teenager still afraid to merely lay his hand upon her shoulder.

Jill suddenly leaned down to kiss him. Her lips so incredibly soft like a flower petal and sinfully wet against his own as the chaste peck turned into an open mouth kiss. A shiver ran down Clive's back as Jill let out a breathy moan into his mouth. Breaking the kiss with a soft pop, Jill whispered against his lips. "Go get ready for bed, Lord Rosfield. I'll be right back," she said with such a sensual smile that had warmth pooling in his chest down past his bellybutton.

"Will do," he agreed with a nod.

Jill didn't reply, merely stealing one more lingering kiss before she began gathering the dirty dishes into the tray, yet before she lifted it back up, a look of surprise filled her face. The young woman suddenly reached for the satchel attached to her belt.

"What is it, Jill?" Clive asked curiously.

"Sorry. I just remembered something," she replied, pulling out a rolled up parchment with a red ribbon and wax seal attached. "This just came in from a Stolas intended for you. It looked important so you should probably read it straightaway."

Clive nodded, "I shall."

"Alright. I'll be back in about twenty minutes, that should be enough time to pen a reply, right? I need to make sure everything is in order before we turn in for the night anyway. Wouldn't want to be interrupted now, would we?" she chuckled, icy blue eyes heavily lidded, the light from the crescent moon and the flickering candle making her doven hair glow a beautiful silver.

"No, we wouldn't want that," Clive agreed and kept smiling at her until she disappeared out the doors with Torgal following closely behind. Even after he ate dinner, that famished hound most likely wanted to coerce more treats from Charon, and his favorite new victim, Goetz.

Once Jill left the room to take the dishes to the mess, Clive merely sat back in the chair and looked over the new strange letter Jill handed him. There was no tells nor names attached to mention who had sent it. His name written in black inked script near the seal was the only marking adorning its off white face.

"Who is this from I wonder?" he mused. Fingertip brushing over the wax seal and his heart palpitating when he realized the smeared image in the red wax.

A Phoenix…

Doing his best to not rip the paper when opening it with suddenly trembling hands, he slipped a small knife through the soft wax and loose ribbon, fingers unfolding the paper before he began to read its contents.

Your Esteemed Marquess, Clive Rosfield of Rosaria,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My deepest apologizes that I didn't speak to you before I departed, given your unconscious state of being, but time was of the essence and I had precious little to spare.

I've been back in Tabor for nearly a month merely to decompress, to grieve in my own way even if don't deserve such indulgences given my failure to protect Joshua from his fate. Yet, I simply cannot. I only wish to inform you that, given the nature of my duties, I can't say exactly how I know this or if it's indeed true. All I know for certain are rumors but they are substantial. There would be none if it wasn't at least grounded in some myriad of truth given the people who are spreading them.

So, I am going myself to find if what I am about to tell you is indeed possible - I pray it is.

We have been to the ruins where you encountered Ultima and I do regret to inform you that we have located Dion Lesage's body. Using the burial rights known to the royals of the Holy Empire of Sanbreque, where he hailed as their Prince, we have honored the rights of the dead as best we could and delivered him back to his beloved Dragoons for the proper burial he deserved. You may perhaps be getting a missive from a Dragoon named Terrance at a future date who would wish to speak to you on matters he didn't fully disclose to myself.

The reason I write to you now is because after scouring the entire crumbling architecture, looking under all debris - we cannot locate Joshua's body. There was traces of a fight, yes. Blood and the like and even a piece of his red scarf he was prone to wear constantly - but not him. Perhaps it is foolish to even merely hope, but from what I've heard others in the Undying whispering under their breath and the rumors circulating amid his lack of remains, to definitively determine he is deceased, I can't help but take this as fact.

My Lord Marquess, I believe that Joshua is somehow alive. I am certain you are just as determined to find him as I am if it is indeed true. If so, I would appreciate your help in locating and tracking any and all substantial rumors. I'll be waiting anxiously for your reply.

Forever at your service,

Jote

The letter fell to the ground with Clive joining it soon after.