Smoke poured from the stacks of the Enterprise's several mythril engines as she cut elegantly through the waters off the east coast of Storm. The picture on the main deck was one of ecstatic joy on the part of one Midadol Telamon, who upon her return to the group insisted on pulling all of the returning and new passengers into hugs whether they wished to participate or not. Not even Torgal was exempt, though the wolf seemed unbothered.
Joshua accepted his hug gracefully, mimicking Clive's earlier gesture of lifting Mid off her feet and spinning her once, though not everyone was so amiable.
"Captain's orders!" Mid cried as she squeezed a stunned Dion around the middle with all her might.
Dion cast a pleading look at Terence who smiled, shrugged, and said, "Captain's orders."
When Mid released Dion and set her sights on Terence, the man's humor faded and he backed away.
"Dunno who you are, but c'mere, you!" Mid threatened.
Dion simply smirked at his second-in-command's terror. "Captain's orders," Dion said dryly while Mid chased Terence around the deck.
Kihel was in stitches by the time Mid finally caught Terence, as were Joshua, Jill, and Clive. It was the most that all of the Enterprise's passengers had smiled and laughed in weeks, if not months. Kihel, who until that point had been slightly wary of the eccentric inventor, accepted her own hug gladly.
()
The sun set quickly once the Enterprise was underway, and a hasty evening meal was served in the ship's galley. Eight human-shaped individuals sat around two tables pushed together with mismatched chairs, and the single wolf-shaped individual lay under the table atop several human feet. Kihel had been sent to rest in a cabin after Terence and Dion had caught her yawning one too many times, but the adults all felt the need to be present for Clive's tale.
With some difficulty, and with Jill's hand in his own, Clive recounted the events of the final battle he had fought against Ultima and the happenings of immediately afterward.
When Clive finished his story, he took up his tankard of ale and threw most of it back at once.
"So, you…swam to shore, then?" Gav asked from across the table.
Clive wiped the foam from his mouth and shook his head. "After Origin fell, I woke up on the beach – I've no idea how I found myself there."
The circumstances of Dion and Joshua finding themselves on the beach were also mysterious.
"The first thing I recall after casting my last spell and falling was seeing Torgal before me," Dion explained, and he released his grip on Terence's hand for a moment to pat the hound's head where it rested against his ankle. "He led me up the coast to find Joshua."
Joshua nodded. "And the first thing I recall…after…" Joshua hazarded glancing over at Clive, whose expression was still extremely grim, "was Dion speaking to me and Torgal licking my face."
Clive winced and stared down at the table, which did not go unnoticed by Jote.
"'After'?" Jote asked, concern dawning on her face. Her gaze flickered between the two brothers, "What do you mean 'after'?"
Joshua tapped at his chest once, where the seal had rested for five long years, and solemnly said, "I believe you can guess what I mean."
Jote paled and looked away.
"No way. You died?" Mid interjected when she caught Joshua's meaning. "Then…how are you…?"
"We still don't know," Clive said.
"I suppose your 'returned miraculously from death' line held more truth than I had originally believed," Terence said quietly to Dion. He gathered the Prince's hand back up and laced their fingers together. The dragoon appeared disturbed.
"Dion…" Jill began, "did you…?"
"I am uncertain," Dion admitted, "though it is, apparently, possible." He looked at Joshua.
"Clive…?" Jill asked.
Clive had believed he would die on that beach, slowly turning to stone, though he was alive when Kihel and Terence found him. Did he actually perish?
"I'm also unsure, but I don't think so," Clive said.
The table feel into a tense silence.
"We can sort it out later – see if it don't make sense once we've all had rest," Gav proposed. He gestured at Mid, "Till then, what's the plan, Captain?"
Mid slapped her hands on the tabletop and looked around to make sure she had everyone's attention. "Right! We're returnin' to Kanver to dock and meet up with the Undying folk and from there, we'll be crossin' their secret paths to get back to the Hideaway. Have a kip for now, 'specially you," she emphasized while pointing at Jill and Jote. "Dunno if I saw either of youse sleep on the way over."
"Aye, Captain," Gav saluted and stood from his seat, and most of the party made to follow suit.
Clive remained in his seat and rubbed at his eyes. Jill's hand fell on his shoulder and he turned to look at her. Radiant, as always.
"Will you join me on the deck?" Jill asked. "The moon is out."
()
Stars. Thousands of them, dappled brightly across the sky's dark velvet curtain as though by an errant artist. The waning moon sat amidst them in its nightly path across the heavens, reflected wavering on the surface of the mirror-black sea.
"Metia…" Clive noticed curiously, "Its light has dimmed?"
"It happened the night Origin fell," Jill said as she sat on the wooden planks of the deck floor, "just as I felt Ifrit's aether fade completely and Shiva left."
Jill tugged Clive down by the hand until both of them lay on their backs to more easily admire the sky, and Clive happily allowed her to pillow her head on his arm. Torgal lay beside them with his massive head across Jill's middle, and she scratched her nails through his fur absently.
"I thought it was a sign," Jill admitted, "Metia's dimming. A refusal to grant my wish. Now, I've no idea what it means."
"It may not mean anything at all," Clive mused, "What if stars just burn out, after a time?"
"Hmm," Jill acknowledged, "Perhaps."
The night air was cool, bordering on cold, but wherever the two of them met was warm.
"Do you recall the night Joshua flew us home from the Crystalline Dominion? After your fight with Bahamut?" Jill asked. "While waiting for news from Tarja, we laid on tabletops in the mess and stared up at the sky like this."
Clive hummed.
They had done impossible, impossible things that night. Though the circumstances had been dire, Clive had not been able to help but feel awe at seeing the world from so high. The only true, untainted bright spots of that night had been the reunions the four of them had been granted and the time he had been able to spend with Jill watching the sky.
"Joshua was exhausted on that flight. Were all exhausted. I thought at one point he might fall into the mere on the approach," Clive said with a soft exhale that may have been amusement, "Watching the stars with you after that was surreal."
"It was terrifying," Jill said quietly, "watching you fight. I thought I was going to lose you both, again. And I was just…sat there, with your mother and her new son."
It should have been you! Why didn't the Phoenix choose you?
Clive flinched at the old pain.
"My mother's phrasing was ever biting, though that night her words seemed particularly barbed," Clive recalled. "'I had nothing' – how absurd to say when her child was the Phoenix. And for what? Just because he was sickly?"
"For want of perfection," Jill said, "That her children were not perfect in every way reflected negatively upon her. She failed at bearing a 'proper' Dominant of the Phoenix so she pushed all of her anger and shame at you, and she smothered Joshua to keep up appearances."
"Do you think she even loved him?" Clive asked, though he could hardly believe that a woman who loved her son would be so cold when speaking about his death.
Jill thought for a moment.
"I don't think she loved anything, or anyone. I don't know if she was capable of love, truly, even when she'd achieved her perfect bloodline," Jill replied. "Something was broken in that woman; unable to love even herself."
"Father knew she wasn't…good to us," Clive hesitated, "and he tried, certainly, but…"
"Archduke Elwin was a great man," Jill said gently, "Unfortunately, even the greatest of men struggle to be good ones. He should have protected you from your mother, sent her away, something. He was so focused on being a great archduke that he could not be a good father."
"I miss him," said Clive, and Jill squeezed his hand. "I wish I could tell him everything that's happened…how proud he should be of his name."
Jill huffed a laugh. "He was always proud of you, Clive. You and Joshua, both. That's one thing not even death could change."
Clive squeezed Jill's hand back.
"How are you handling Shiva being gone?" Clive asked.
Jill breathed a contemplative breath so large it disturbed Torgal. "It was unsettling, at first, when I thought that her being gone meant you were gone, too. It was like a piece of me had been sliced out of my middle and the edges wouldn't heal. Then, the curse faded away and it was a bit better. Now, though, I feel...lighter."
"Waking without Ifrit was disturbing," Clive admitted, "It felt like a hole in my chest."
"I understand," Jill said. "And...though Shiva is gone, I still live with the guilt of what I did when I used her power."
"You never told me of the day your powers awoke," Clive said softly.
"You're right," Jill replied evenly, "I didn't."
Clive knew when to let a subject drop. And instead...
"You told me, years ago, just before we left Phoenix Gate, that you had changed," Clive reminisced while tracing a constellation with his eyes, "and that the person you had become - you didn't want to be her, anymore."
"That I did," Jill said.
"We've both changed, Jill. I think that's just part of living. But I don't think you've changed where it counts, at all. You're the same as you've always been - kind, smart, fierce...good. Everything I love about you is everything you've always been. Nothing you've done could change that."
The tension seeped out of Jill and she shifted to press a kiss to Clive's cheek.
Maybe stars just burned out and nothing meant anything. Maybe everything meant something.
"Thank you for coming to find me," Clive told Jill. "You saved my life."
Jill pressed closer, "Thank you for keeping your promise."
"I love you, Jill."
"I love you, too."
The moon shimmered bright overhead, Metia dim beneath it.
((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))
The Enterprise was returned in short order to the Ironworks in Kanver – the only real dock in Storm equipped to hold her – and the members of the Undying who had stayed behind scrambled both to secure a pathway back to the Hideaway and to gently harass Joshua and Clive. There had been much bowing and expressing of relief that the Archduke Regent and the Lord Marquess survived their ordeal. Soon, though, the relief turned to curiosity as to how, exactly, the men still lived.
While the majority of the party worked to prepare for departure to central Storm and Jill sent off a stolas warning the Hideaway of their return with their additional party members, Cyril pestered Clive and Joshua.
"For the sake of posterity, Your Grace, My Lord, it would be quite beneficial to have record of your experience within Origin," Cyril insisted. It seemed as though he had reiterated a similar point no fewer than ten times within the past several minutes.
Joshua nodded indulgently, "And you shall have such records, Cyril. However, the first priority for my brother and myself is our safe and speedy return to the Hideaway."
"Of course, Your Grace. If you would be amenable to some queries from our historian, however, we could—"
"If I may, Cyril?" Jote broke in upon seeing the irritation spark in Joshua's eyes. "I need to discuss with you my status among the Undying." She swept broadly with one arm, indicating that Cyril should follow her.
Cyril appeared as though he wished to say more, but Clive spoke before he was able.
"It seems the two of you are quite busy," Clive caught on and nodded gratefully once at Jote. "My brother and I shall see about departure preparations."
The Rosfield brothers beat a hasty retreat toward the stables where chocobos were being readied for the journey back to central Storm. Clive found himself beside a canary-yellow steed, hand-feeding her gysahl greens and admiring her plumage. She was no Ambrosia, but he could appreciate her nonetheless. Joshua stood beside him, combing his hand through the mount's crest to straighten the feathers.
"She plans to resign her position as my attendant," Joshua said after a few moments. "The code of the Undying would not allow this under traditional circumstances, but Knights of the Undying are typically sworn to the Phoenix, not the Archduke. Jote's obligation and oath ended when the Phoenix did."
Surprise, Clive was sure, was written all across his face.
"She no longer wants to be your attendant?" Clive asked. Attending Joshua had seemed to be a point of pride and honor for Jote – this seemed a sudden change, indeed.
"Yes and no," Joshua said vaguely. "She discussed it at length with me during our trip yesterday evening aboard the Enterprise. Her status as my attendant…limits her ability to speak her mind and act her will—and limits my ability to respond appropriately," Joshua concluded haltingly.
Clive watched his brother's face turn red as a beet while he fidgeted with feathers he had already straightened.
At once Clive was terribly amused by Joshua's situation and cursing fate once again that it had wrested from his brother nearly all of the youthful days he should have been able to spend having mundane problems like relationships. Not that Archduke Joshua would have been able to experience the same measure of mundanity as a common man would, but it would have been a sight more normal than the events resulting from Ultima's sick plot.
The former Dominant of Ifrit clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"I wish you all the happiness and luck in the world," Clive said sincerely, and watched with great mirth as Joshua immediately confirmed Clive's every suspicion by trying, unnecessarily, to defend his interest in Jote.
()
The trip across Storm to return to the Hideaway was taken a measure more slowly than the trip to Kanver had been; they had all the time in the world, now, though most of them hungered for the comforts of home. With all of the secret pathways known by the Undying, it was perhaps three days at a moderate pace to make it to the dock at the far end of Bennumere.
As it was during the entirety of the trip in the direction of Bennumere, Clive marveled at the once-Blighted lands now cloaked in verdant green. The waters of the lake were crystal clear and sparkled in the light of the sun. Dragonflies swooped around in the air, beetles walked steadily across healthy fronds of plants, and Clive thought he even spied some frogs at the waterside. Finally, finally Clive saw the end of what had plagued the entirety of his childhood – the Blight. Central storm and the Hideaway were free of its cruel grip. He also spied Joshua and Dion admiring the landscape during their travels.
The group climbed into the skiff waiting at the dock and cast off from the shore in the direction of the Fallen airship.
To the surprise of the entire party, Otto was the only one waiting for them when they arrived at the Hideaway's dock.
The man was emotional, clearly, and seemed to have trouble containing it. Clive disembarked first and spoke with him while everyone else was still finding their footing on the dock.
"We'll 'ave a feast later to welcome you home proper," Otto explained and a few tears escaped, "but I told 'em to give you space till then. Expect gawking and cryin' for a while, eh?"
"Thank you, Otto," Clive said warmly.
Otto appeared to argue with himself internally for a long moment.
"Ah, fuck it," Otto said eventually and drew Clive into a hug. "Welcome home, Clive."
The group had indeed encountered a fair bit of staring – and crying, and one man appeared to have a fainting spell – on their way to the mess. Clive was pleased to see Nektar floating where he usually did near the hunt board and Gaute behind the counter with the ledgers.
"We'll get everyone set up with rooms," Gav said. He rubbed his hands together and left with Mid and Jote to see about the stores and assignments.
"I'll go see to any messages in your quarters," Jill offered and parted from Clive after giving him a short hug. "If you leave the Hideaway without telling me, I'll nail your boots to the floorboards," she promised sweetly, and Clive expressed his frightened understanding with a frantic nod.
Clive was about to address the remaining members of the group when Tarja appeared seemingly from nowhere. She glared at Clive, Joshua, and Dion in particular.
"Infirmary. The three of you. Now," Tarja demanded. She did not wait for anyone to follow her but started off and began to make for the infirmary.
"Lady Tarja—" Dion protested.
"That was not a request, Your Highness," Tarja called over her shoulder. She fixed her keen eyes on Kihel and jerked her head to indicate that Kihel should follow. "Child, you will join my assistant in crafting curatives."
"Yes ma'am!" Kihel said, intimidated.
"Best to just do as she says," Clive said while clapping a hand on Dion's shoulder as he passed.
Kihel stared after Tarja, somewhat starry-eyed, and followed the small group up the curving staircase to the infirmary.
()
"I bade you bring your brother back in one piece," Tarja said while she examined Clive, "and you bring him back in better health than when you left. A new apprentice, too. We should have world-ending threats more often."
"It is true, then?" Clive asked. "Joshua's illnesses are gone?"
"For all that I can discern, yes," Tarja concluded. "Clive. What happened up there?"
Clive made a helpless gesture and shook his head. "Joshua died," he said, though it took some effort to form the words, "I mended his flesh with the power of the Phoenix, but it was too late. He was…he was gone."
"And yet here we are," Tarja pondered softly. For the first time since he'd met her, Clive thought Tarja appeared truly mystified.
Not for the first time, Clive wondered how it came to be that Joshua was alive and unharmed. The might of the Phoenix could do many things, certainly, and rescue men from impending doom. However, what healing power afforded to the Phoenix could mend only flesh. Once a man was dead, dead was what he stayed. And even with the advent of Ultima's strength, Clive's effort to heal Joshua had not been able to bring him back to life. When Clive cast what he believed to be his final spell, ridding the world of the use of magic, Joshua had still been gone. Clive was not ungrateful that Joshua was returned, but he was mightily perplexed by it.
"You have no idea how this may have come to be?" Clive asked. A physicker may know something Clive did not.
Tarja sighed and crossed her arms. "The magics or methods that returned your brother to life…they are beyond me," Tarja said. "In any case, you also seem to be in good health. You are free to leave."
"Much appreciated, Tarja," Clive said. He dressed fully and was making his way to the door when Tarja caught his attention once more.
"Clive, thank you for looking after your brother," Tarja said seriously. "And thank you for returning to us."
A small smile formed on Clive's mouth. "I did only as you bade me, Lady Tarja."
Tarja waved him off. "Send in His Imperial Highness," she commanded. "I would have more words with him about the consequences of leaving my care before I have finished mending him."
Clive nodded and left. Joshua had disappeared into the Hideaway somewhere, so Clive simply informed Dion of his status as next in line to be examined.
"Poor bastard," Clive muttered conspiratorially to Torgal when Dion disappeared through the doors, "I don't envy him."
Torgal accepted some head scratches and then practically dragged Clive by his shirtsleeve towards the main hall.
"I suppose we do have rounds to make, don't we, Torgal?" Clive followed the hound's lead straight to Charon's Toll.
Torgal woofed and pranced over to the cantankerous trader who awarded him with yet more scratches to the soft spots behind his ears.
Charon pulled out an antelope femur and Torgal took it – with great relish, if the ear-splitting crunching sounds meant anything.
"Left us all in the lurch just to bring this one home, did you?" Charon asked Torgal. The hound did not respond but for a loud huff. "Course you did." Charon looked over at Clive. "Thought you promised you wouldn't lose him again."
"Lose him?" Clive asked with great mirth. "He wouldn't let me lose him if I tried." Torgal punctuated Clive's statement with a loud snap of the antelope bone.
"Hmph," Charon grumbled. "Suppose I never did say aught about him losin' you, either."
"Oh, he didn't let me stay lost for very long; he tracked me from half the continent away," Clive chuckled, and paused. Half the continent away? And further, besides – Dion had said Torgal healed him near the boundaries of Kanver. Torgal was a skilled hunting dog, surely, and he had the powers of a frost wolf, but that distance…
"Well, you just stay where he can keep an eye on you," Charon insisted, "Else you'll put the poor pup to more trouble than you're worth!"
"Don't I know it," Clive replied. "I'll say hello to Blackthorne while Torgal is having his treat – I won't be long."
"Don't pay any mind to aught he tells you; soft old sod was beside himself when we heard you were alive, but you know how he likes to posture." Charon advised. "And Clive…welcome back."
"Thank you, Lady Charon."
()
The forge was stiflingly hot and smelled of the strange chemicals used in metalworks, as was usual.
"Blackthorne," Clive greeted as he neared the forge.
Blackthorne's eyes were red and puffy, though that was their typical state with the dim light from the fire and the fumes and smoke. He looked at Clive briefly once and resumed his craft.
"Come back, have you?" Blackthorne asked gruffly. The strikes of his hammer seemed slower and lighter than usual.
"I have," said Clive.
"Where's your sword?" Blackthorne asked.
Clive winced. "I may have…lost it."
Blackthorne stopped his hammering and stared at Clive. "Lost it?"
"I believe I threw it through a god, yes. I admit I rather lost track of it after that."
The blacksmith scoffed, disgusted.
"My work at the bottom of the sea – a bloody disgrace. Damned waste of a fine blade," Blackthorne chastised lowly. His hammer struck the anvil with more force and rapidity.
"It certainly was," Clive replied. "Thank you for it; your work kept me both safe and dangerous in that fight. I would not have survived that battle without your help."
"Yeah, well," Blackthorne grumbled affectionately, "I'll have to get to work on makin' you another one. An' don't bother givin' me materials for it; I've plenty enough kickin' around here to replicate my work."
"Thank you," Clive said.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't go throwin' this new one through any gods," Blackthorne commanded while waving Clive off.
"I'll try to restrain myself," Clive nodded in good humor.
"And, uh, Clive—It's good to have you back," Blackthorne said gruffly, not meeting Clive's eyes. The man continued to beat a glowing chunk of metal with his smithy's hammer and cleared his throat a few times.
Clive grinned. "Thank you, Blackthorne. It's good to be back."
()
When Clive returned to Charon's Toll to check on Torgal, he found that the hound had already finished the antelope bone and was patiently waiting for his reappearance. The wolf's ears perked up and his tail wagged slowly. Clive patted his head.
Half a continent away…
"How was it that you found me all the way in Dhalmekia?" Clive asked. Torgal cocked his head to the side and did not answer, though Clive had not expected an answer in the first place. "Well, I believe we should make proof of our return to our resident historian – this is one mystery I should like to solve."
The shelves were more populated than Clive had expected them to be. Dion had obviously finished his scolding from Tarja and was speaking quietly to Harpocrates at the historian's table. Joshua stood a distance away with his nose buried in a book, running a finger down the page as he read.
Dion stepped away from the table and made to leave the shelves, nodding once at Clive as he passed. Clive nodded back.
"Ah, Clive!" Harpocrates called. "Welcome home."
That was certainly one turn of phrase Clive had never expected to be able to hear from Harpocrates again. He smiled. The outlaw approached the writing table and clasped Harpocrates's hand with his own.
"Harpocrates," Clive greeted.
"I'm glad to see you well," Harpocrates continued, "and I am glad to see His Highness and young Master Joshua also returned safe and sound." The kindly old loresman smiled, deepening the smile lines near his mouth and the wrinkles near his eyes.
"It was a near thing," Clive replied, "but it seems we've managed to make it through."
Joshua looked up from his reading. "Clive, I've been speaking with Harpocrates about the currents at the Strait of Autha. Something about them has been bothering me."
Unsurprising, as Clive's brother had developed a thirst for knowledge very young and seemed to have maintained it easily through his adulthood. Clive had to admit he also had some curiosity about the condition of the sea on the coast after hearing about how tumultuous they had been in the wake of Origin's fall.
"Have you found anything?" Clive asked.
Harpocrates pointed at a passage in what appeared to be a mariner's log. "The only reference I have been able to find is hearsay and speculation. The first officer of the vessel named the Jormungandr compared the tides they faced to a folktale I am unable to find record of – referring to someone called the 'Hydraean' and a fierce battle against him."
"And the reference reminds me of something I found during my travels, but I cannot recall what it was. I shall need to more closely examine my journals," Joshua added, frustratedly flipping another page of his book.
Torgal huffed and Clive recalled his need to visit the shelves with such expediency.
"Harpocrates, I was hoping you might be able to help - did you find any more information about frost wolves in your studies?" Clive asked.
Harpocrates seemed surprised. "Is our dear Torgal out of sorts once more?" Harpocrates responded and Joshua looked up in concern.
"Nothing so serious," Clive reassured them, "I had been considering the sheer distance over which Torgal tracked us; I'm told he started from here and then made his way across Storm to Kanver. It seemed…improbable, to say the least."
"It certainly is impressive," Harpocrates acknowledged and shook his head, "but I have learned nothing else about frost wolves since last we spoke. You know as much about the creatures as I do."
Clive rubbed a hand across Torgal's head. "It was worth asking, I suppose. If you do find anything else, would you send for me?"
"Of course, Clive," Harpocrates smiled.
Clive stared at Torgal's sleepy yellow eyes and ruffled-up fur. The hound grumbled at the attention.
"You may just need to remain a mystery, boy," Clive informed the wolf.
Torgal sniffed at him and wagged his tail.
((((((((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))))))))))
"She is in good hands," Dion said as he sat in the seat across from Terence in the Ale Hall. "Tarja is a strict taskmaster, but she can easily discern the limits of others. She is the one who cared for me initially after my spat with Ifrit and Phoenix."
Dion recalled returning to consciousness after that fight incredibly shocked that he still lived. The shock had faded quickly and was superimposed with shame and guilt. He'd left the infirmary against Tarja's advice and returned to Twinside only to be overcome by his injuries once more.
"I shall have to express my thanks to her, then," Terence noted.
The two of them sat in companionable silence for several moments until Dion spoke again.
"You said that you had something important to discuss with me?" Dion asked.
A serious expression fell over Terence's face.
"Your Highness, I wanted to encourage you to return to Imperial lands and claim your rightful throne."