Finally able to stand with the help of a crutch, Gale hears someone playing a familiar folk song on a lyre. The gentle strumming brings him back to his mother's lullabies. Gale hobbles outside of his tent to find a bard whose serene posture and wavy blonde hair remind him of Princess Guinevere. The bard turns around. He wears a gold braided headpiece like an Etrurian nobleman, 'ah, good morning, Sir Gale.'

'There's no need for the "sir". My commander has died. I'm just a hostage now,' Gale tilts his head slightly to study the bard's face, 'that Etrurian folk song...? Could you be...?'

'My name is Elffin,' the man holds the lyre close to his chest, 'I'm a mere bard and the Lycian army's tactician.'

'No, I've seen your face—the pamphlets about the missing Etrurian prince whom King Mordred still weeps for. You're Prince Myrrdin,' Gale's arm feels numb when he moves the crutch to sit down, 'I'm sure of it.'

The bard remains silent before holding a finger up to his own lips.

'So, it's true,' Gale remembers the flyers scattered around his home village, then the swift outburst of rogue aristocrats under the weakened monarch, eager to grab territory for themselves, 'the prince is still alive.'

'Your eyes hold so much resentment,' Elffin closes his eyes as he strokes the lyre. It lets out a meek sound, 'like you wish I was dead after all.'

'Do you know what suffering the common people endured? Without a strong monarch, aristocrats plundered the land for themselves.' Gale feels the weight on his muscles lighten when the bard plays the folk song again.

Gold strands blow in front of Elffin's face, 'yes... I am. For when I awoke from my coma, I befriended people whose backs Etruria's cultural and technological achievements had broken. And what about you, Sir Gale?' Elffin drapes a blue cloak over his shoulders when a cold breeze passes, 'if you were still capable of fighting, would you be at the castle, fighting alongside King Zephiel?'

'There's no point pondering impossible alternatives,' Gale cracks his knuckles, eying a sprout growing from the soil in front of him, 'I just wish that Miledy and I had met in a more peaceful time.'

'But then you would never have met Lady Miledy at all,' Elffin takes out three coloured cords and begins weaving them together, 'the Bern army only welcomed you as a non-native because of your exceptional combat capabilities. You wouldn't have been in such high demand in peacetime.'

'That's true,' Gale leans back, staring at clouds above. This scene reminds him of Miledy's estate where he, Miledy and her grandfather bantered. Suddenly, Gale realises: this prince is sitting beside a commoner like me. He isn't an Etrurian noble who orders his subjects to work to the bone while warming himself in goose-feather bedding, 'Prince Myr— Elffin, have you ever had regrets?'

'Why do you ask?'

'No reason.' Gale stares at his callused palms, toughened from handling weapons and his wyvern's claws.

'If there is one, I am sorry for the suffering that the Etrurian people experienced under my family's regime,' Elffin clasps his hands as though praying, 'but I promise that if— when General Roy succeeds, Etruria will see a brighter, more humane future for all its people.'

'And... I am sorry for the pain that Bern's militarism brought,' Gale looks at the prince's white hands as they continue weaving the cords, 'I will never forget the mercy I have received under Princess Guinevere and General Roy's leadership.'

'You may not have your title, Sir Gale, but a valiant spirit remains in your heart,' Elffin smiles at a small girl, Fa, as she chases a rabbit around the camp. She runs towards Elffin who gives her the braided cords, 'just as I am still the rightful prince of Etruria, you are a great wyvern knight of Bern. When the time comes, we must return to our respective roles and rebuild our nations. I look forward to the new Bern that you will rebuild with Princess Guinevere and her comrades, the people you love most.'

'Yes, Elffin— no, Prince Myrrdin,' Gale leans against his crutch, 'I look forward to the new Etruria that you will lead.'

They gaze at the feint flag fluttering above King Zephiel's distant castle, where the Lycian army fights. Deep down, as Elffin plays another soothing tune, the two men know: a hopeful era will begin soon…

Mamma,

The fall of King Zephiel's government has lifted the ban on civilian communications between Etruria and Bern, hence this letter. Although I sustained some injuries after battle, I have since been able to start walking without the aid of a crutch.

Shortly after Princess Guinevere's coronation, Miledy and I officiated our marriage under Saint Elimine's blessing with Father Renault and Sister Ellen's help. It was a happy day, with Zeiss, Miledy's father and grandfather standing as witnesses.

With the good word of Miledy's grandfather, Princess Guinevere has given permission for you to migrate to Bern. I know you love our hometown but the property you could live on in Bern would be far more comfortable than our small cottage– and I wish you could be nearer.

With love,

Gale

'All the members of the Lycian army are gathered here. It would be an ideal time to hold a wedding,' Princess Guinevere stands before us, draped in a pure white cloak. The subtle gold trimming of a bishop's blue robes glimmers around Ellen who stands beside her, 'you deserve a joyous celebration, after all you've done.'

'There's still much rebuilding to do for this country,' I watch a red-breasted robin flitter to its nest in the palace courtyard. There was one outside the window to Mother's study. Ravenous beaks bounce up and down in the donut-shaped twig mass, 'besides, we'd like Gale's mother to be present at the ceremony.'

'Sir Gale, your mother has permission to move to Bern,' Princess Guinevere steadies her crown to look up at Gale, 'as thanks for your service to the army, we will subsidise her relocation. She is your only blood relative after all.'

'Thank you, Princess Guinevere,' Gale bows to her, 'only your and General Roy's mercy allow me to stand here today.'

'Oh, Miledy!' Ellen's ceremonial cloak slides off her shoulders when she runs to embrace me, 'enjoy your honeymoon— I mean, royal duties with Sir Gale by your side! I'll miss you so much!'

'I'll be back, don't worry. We'll just be scouting out skilled mercenary to replenish the army.' I wonder if we will run into Heath, that deserter who is still too uncertain of his status to woo Lady Priscilla. Or if Legault will be skulking around the mountains, ready to ambush stray travellers in their time of need, only to charge an exorbitant fee for doing them a 'favour'. 'Zeiss will be looking after the army in the meantime. Most soldiers have accepted him as one of the new Dragon Lords, despite some initial backlash about him defecting to join the princess.'

'Then do remember to take the ointment I made for you...' Ellen sobs into her white sleeve, 'the cold winds are harsh on the skin. You'll get blisters and infections.'

'Ellen, we just survived a historic war,' I push her hair away from her face, 'we're not about to be taken out by a minor skin infection.'

'W-Well, just take care then!' She sniffles.

After exchanging goodbyes with Ellen and Princess Guinevere, Gale and I walk through the courtyard, revelling in the golden light that illuminates tiny yellow flowers. The warbling choruses of native sparrows signal that it is spring in Bern.

'It'll be spring in Ilia too, won't it?' I slide my hand through Gale's arm. His thoughtful eyes are far handsomer than I remember, certainly more than the gaudy caricature of an Etrurian nobleman among Bern's old propaganda posters.

'Yes,' Gale smiles, lowering his gaze. We slow down, absorbing the soft patter of our steps against the stone path, inhaling the fragrance of dew and jasmine on a crisp morning, 'at last...'

EPILOGUE: Miledy and Gale travelled around Ilia, offering well-paying, permanent jobs to competent mercenaries and others who could reinvigorate Bern's army and cultural sector. Bards from around the continent were inspired not only by the pair's patriotism but their love which overcame ethnic and political divides during wartime. At the end of their lives, Miledy and Gale were buried together in Hartmut's Plains for their service to the Bern army, making Gale the first foreigner to be granted this privilege. Their story reminds us that, as a former deserter from Bern once told Miledy, love is not about the flags that people fight under but the connection of human souls.

AUTHOR NOTE: Thank you all for reading to the end of this series, The Defector From Bern, which explored FE6 events from Miledy's perspective and wrote a more fortunate ending for her and Gale's love story. If you liked this chapter/series and have not already checked out my prequel series, An Etrurian 'Spy' From Bern, please consider doing so: it covers Miledy's career and relationships (focusing on her bond with Gale) in the Bern army before FE6 events. I hope The Defector From Bern (and An Etrurian 'Spy' From Bern) not only allowed fellow FE6 fans to examine Miledy and Gale's complex relationship, but also encouraged you to reflect on a driving theme in my own life: that if we look past tribal divisions and identity labels, we can celebrate, admire and maybe even fall in love with each other's different perspectives and insights.