A/N: Merry Christmas! Hope 2023 is a better year, so here's a new chapter for you! I hope as well that we get to see more writers in the fandom, it feels kinda empty here and mildly depressing. Anyway, Happy Holidays and be vigilant.

…

I stare at the portraits on the walls at home and, once again, I find her face trapped within the glass.

Freya... She usually stood cool and restrained, but I do remember a surreal talk we had years ago as we leaned on a willow tree's trunk, smelling the green, green grass of home…

— The world is changing, but Burmecia will be the last to change. The mood of the country and the whole world... It's just different. Now the skies look dark and the atmosphere is ominous. To be fair, it always has been. But, back then, when I was young and innocent... I felt I could do something about it. I believed that I could make a change happen with these very hands.

— We're still alive, that's what matters. Let's cherish our time.

Cherish our time, I said. We both enjoyed the summer breeze and the rainfall that day. I held tight on Freya's hand as we stood still like we were laying upon a pillow of winds. There are not enough words to describe how we felt, to be honest. Funny how I can remember something that happened so long ago with this amount of detail, like it happened yesterday. Freya would be proud of me and I'd make her smile instead of being yet another reminder of how much she lost through the years that will never come back.

We were alive, and we had dreams…

— You must be enjoying the view down there.

— I'd be lying if I was not.

…Okay.

I swear I didn't look at anything else other than her face. Like, why the hell do I even have that in mind? It was not important. Or maybe it was. Freya had that devilish smile on her face, not an usual sight coming out of a knight. I'll never forget that, and what else could I have said? What else to feel when near someone like her?

I felt ashamed, that's for sure. Freya had a family name, a reputation, status, wealth, dignity... Things I didn't have anymore. I was a nobody, yet I was close enough to hear her heavy breathing, the beat of a heart in agony, the feral growl of a stomach claiming for a meal, the melancholy... That's how she looked most of the time. Like this portrait, Freya was always sad. Her soul in eternal torment, yet she borrowed hope from the child within prayers in her heart.

And how big of a heart Freya had, to fall in love with a pathetic simpleton like me... Enough to show her weak side, to reveal naked feelings once covered by thick layers of skin and looked at me and, from her eyes, I could hear ''If I showed you my dark side, would you still hold me tonight?''

Of course I would. Always.

— This Dragon Knight coat is like my skin. I wrap myself in it, I believe in it, it protects me from the world... but sometimes it's a skin I ache to jump out of. Whenever I wear it, instead of feeling strong and confident, I feel like I am someone else. Someone whose heart is binded, whose body is chained, whose soul is trapped inside this, this... I don't know why I wear it anymore. There are the dog fights and stray cats, all little cruelties that go on everyday, why isn't anyone doing anything? These things drive me insane, and I'm an only woman. I do what I can.

— Don't blame the coat. Clothes do not make you a human being, but making choices is what makes you be. You're right, you do what you can by choice. Animals, rats... They do what they feel like doing because they don't think, all they have is instinct. But you, sweetheart... You have a name, you have reason, you have the knowledge of good and evil. You got to see what needs to be done and to hell with consequences.

— I'm 21 years old, Fratley. Tomorrow I'll be 22. I don't want to spend my life beating on people.

— You mean you don't want to fight?

— Not that. I do want to keep fighting, but do I really need to use my fists on everything? When I was young, I wanted to make a difference. I'd commit the sacrifice of my being in order to bring Peace to this chaotic world. Look at me now, I haven't achieved anything. This entire world used to be swallowed by Mist, but even without it, it's filled with suffering and monsters. I helped Zidane and his allies fight Necron, goddamnit! We saved this world, we fought existential dread itself, what else is there to be done? I'll say one thing, the real villains don't want to rule or destroy the world, because they already do. Bigotry, hatred, big corporations, deforestation, the whales and dolphins are dying...

— ...Look at you, Freya. You are not talking anymore, just giving lectures.

Honestly, I didn't know what to say. We stood quiet for a while, a very long while. As darkness fell and waves rolled by, the seasons changed, the wind was warm... I lied with my love by my side, and she was breathing low. Her birthday was coming, but I had no gifts. Maybe my mere presence was a gift enough for Freya. I was a good listener when it came to understand her worries because I too had the same doubts.

And, like a bird in the haze, Freya rose from green fields and stood in the cold rain. From a distance, we heard the crowd making quite an uproar.

— Glad to see you're back, Fratley.

— Even Dragoons take their birthdays off.

— Is there a better way to celebrate a birthday than bringing a bit of Peace to a mad world?

Once more, we held our hands. We had things to do, we had one another and nothing else was worth a damn. To fight on her own against a hundred, what a stubborn lady... Stubborn, yet brave.

I do miss her touching the night skies with a single jump.

...

Boards Of Canada - Peacock Tail

…

Minutes later…

— ...Isn't it a bit dark here? The candle melted and you're still sitting in the same place. – Said Frigg as she went inside the kitchen. How long has she been standing here? Maybe a minute, or five. – Heather was worried, she told me to check if you are alright. Listen, what happened today... Quite a shock, wasn't it?

— Yes.

— I know how you feel, I feel that way too.

— Of course. – I said, just after Frigg had pulled up a chair and sat down next to filled a cup with the tea. It was cold, but given her face, she seems to enjoy it. – Was this made by Heather?

— It was. My little dear made it. Shannon helped her.

— Mmmmm... Nice. – She said. I wish I could say the same, but I don't feel like it. Not after what we went through today. – What's with you? Those people we fought against, they were out of their minds, and Lord knows what would happen if we were not there.

— I don't want to know.

— And you really shouldn't. If I've spent my whole life guessing, then I probably would not be here. I have no idea how different things would be if I did not join the Dragoons, you know.

— Frigg, I... – There is something I want to say, yet it feels so hard to pull it out, like it's stuck on my throat. I do my best to take it out because it can't stay inside forever. – Thank you. I could not take care of those people on my own. Uh... You see, this tea will taste better if it's warm.

— I don't mind. Besides, I like cold tea.

— If you say so. – I said. Something still bothered me, and a cup of tea won't calm my nerves. – I can't take those addicts out of my mind. It was as if some of them felt no pain, no matter how brute our methods were.

— Listen, I don't know much about drugs, but I heard that some of them have a tranquilizer effect, in body and soul. Some of them feel immortal by giving themselves to the "good stuff", as they say. I see no good in any of this. And you?

— Yes, no good. – I wonder why Frigg and I are still talking about it. Don't we have better things to say while off duty? I guess not. – When did it all happen? When did Burmecia become this awful place? I remember walking with my parents around the main square's fountain. I could see myself between the rain and the thousand ripples on the water's surface. The water around the fountain was so clean and crystal-clear that you could drink it and you would not feel bad. I know because I once tried, and I thought my stomach would hurt. It did not, but I puked the next day and actually I felt a lot better. Guess I was right, hehe.

— I never told this to anyone, but between us, Sir Fratley... I wanted to swim naked on that fountain. – Said Frigg, to which my eyes are met with startled looks. She is sharing confidences with me, perhaps too many of them at once. – What? Don't ask me why! I was a kid with weird thoughts.

— We all were. I thought Burmecia's rain was God's piss. – I replied. What else can I do? Let there be confidences to share. Mine sounds ridiculous in comparison

— Okay... – A bit of silence follows, and Frigg earns back her composure. – Legend says Reis bathed herself on that fountain after her baby was born. The merchants around the fountain used to sell tons of Holy Water collected from the very fountain, but now that place is filled with decadence and rust and no one from the Palace seems to care about its maintenance.

— ...No one? – For some reason, I felt moved by that information. Perhaps it's the way she told it so, in a very personal and melancholic tone filled with slices of nostalgia.

— No one. The Alexandrians destroyed a lot of our cultural heritage, but there are times our people do the same without noticing. It saddens me to know a place I used to hang out as a child became a desolate land of moss and garbage, ignoring the fact some junkies decided to live there. I don't know, Fratley... I don't know what to do, because I already do what I can but it's not enough.

— We do what we can. – My turn to comfort the wounded knight. – I knew a lady and her friends who fought against a world-threatening menace. Zidane, Garnet, Steiner, Vivi, Freya, Quina, Eiko, Amarant... They're practically legends. And I... A mockery of myself, that's what I told everyone by walking through every miserable day of my life with my hands on my pockets and my eyes pointed at my feet. I lost my memory, my identity, I remember how long it took for me to raise my head with pride again.

— Thanks to our beloved Dragoon Knight Freya Crescent! – Frigg said in an enthusiastic tone. I replied with a well deserved sip of tea. It's cold but who cares?

— Uh... Freya was no Saint. She was far from perfect, but I loved her.

— So do I. She inspired me to become a Dragoon Knight, and I own you as well. – Whenever Frigg is happy, she wiggles her ears like a butterfly on flight. It's something I've just noticed. — To be sincere, I don't want to keep fighting if I end up feeling down after each battle, Sir Fratley. Is that how you feel? If so, that's okay. I don't blame you.

— Heather... – I said. An only word that meant a lot, yet I had more to say.

— I'm no babysitter, but I do enjoy your daughter's company.

— She will make a good Dragoon Knight one day. Perhaps as good as her mother was.

— Well... Let's not hurry up, shall we? – Frigg is a very patient Knight, but count on me to make her unease. – Heather and I will go fishing. Will you follow us?

— I'll stay. I'm not feeling good. Will you take good care of her?

— I will. Heather is fun, sweet, she wants to learn new things... – I feel the same, Frigg. I do see myself in Heather, even though I am not her father. Why? Of course I am! I was the one who decided to take care of her when no one else wanted to. Not even her real father, that blue scumbag...

— Gee, daddy is depressed. – Well, guess who arrived. – Must be a family thing, because I too feel that way at times.

— Your father is not depressed. He's just tired.

— Like hell, I am tired. – "Heather is fun, sweet"... And has learned a new swearing. How cute. – Come on Aunt Frigg, let's go fishing!

— Have fun. – I said, as soon as Frigg and Heather held hands and left by the front door. Then my daughter came back, pulling my apprentice's arms. – Hey! Have not we forgotten something?

— Oh, silly me! Do you have any Dead Peppers, Fratley? – Frigg asked as if I carried those little red bombs in my very pockets.

— Left side of the upper counter. Close to the Gysahl Greens. – I said. What, bombs? What do they have to do with fishing? What about a rod and a net? – Frigg!?

— Don't worry, Fratley! It'll be a fun educational walk.

— The words fun and educational do not mix. – Heather pointed out.

— And do not come home late.

– I see the words fatherhood and fun do not mix either. – Heather, Heather... What I find fun, she finds it boring as hell or disgusting. Like chayote soup. – I won't be late, so you know. Aunt Frigg is with me.

— That means both of you.

— Fratley, please... – Frigg covered her face in shame. – I am not a child anymore.

— Neither am I. Soon I'll be nine! – Heather pulled more of her mother's side. I can see a bit of Freya in her soothing madness.

— Just don't get yourselves in trouble, alright?

— We will be fine. We got bombs.

— That's what I'm worried about...

— Dad, please. Aunt Frigg is with me, she's amazing!

— For sure. – I hope Frigg takes care of my daughter. I trust her, but sometimes I wonder if she can do it on her own. And with bombs involved, I have enough reason to be worried.

— Hey, dad... One more thing.

— And what would that be? – What's with Heather looking at me like that? She looks upset with something.

— I never did a pajama party. No one wants to stay close to me. Not always.

— Are you having issues with your feet again? – I asked. How could anyone forget? I have been thinking to myself if I stay out of home most of the time for Heather's sake, or if I'm just avoiding her. It's tough to be a Dragoon, even more than being a... A mutant. That word is forbidden here at home, even for you.

— Not that. Yes, but... – I do not speak that out loud, but Heather looks at me and she knows what I'm saying, that I am unconsciously calling her by names and I hate it as much as the young miss here does. – Well, I am good at punching and kicking, but come on! I am a Crescent, I have a reputation to carry on. And that won't be accomplished if people just look down on me like a little witch and if I keep offering them back the impression of a spoiled brat.

— ...Pajama party, you said? – I feel like my brain is melting from out of my ears. – Will you invite your friends?

– Friends? I barely have any. Look, I can be nice and caring if I want to for those lettuce-faces! Give me a chance! – Heather sighed. I don't have many friends either, but it's different. Most of them are either dead or living outside Burmecia or they don't have enough time to have a decent conversation, but Heather, she is a child who's learning that reality isn't so kind. Everything doesn't work out the way you want it to. That's why... As long as you don't get your hopes up, you can take anything... You feel less pain.

— I'll gladly accept your party invitation, Lady Crescent! – In a moment of sorority, Frigg stood close to Heather to cheer her up.

— Will you?

— Yes, I'll do it. What better way to celebrate our fishing?

— Oh yeah! Almost forgot we're going to go fishing. With bombs! Smell ya later, dad!

— Smell you... I mean, see you later, honey. – I said. Kids these days...

…

At the marshes...

— (...Is this a family recipe?)

— (Yes. Father used to bring me here when I was little.) – Let's see... Fishing nets, here. Empty picnic basket, confirm. Camouflage? Confirmed. Fond memories of this place, hmmm... I almost drowned in that lake. But I had a good dinner, confirm.

— (Little? You?) – Kid, confirm.

— (Yes, my dear. Everyone who grows up used to be a kid.) – Small talk, confirm. I'd hate going alone to this place.

— (Even you? Can't imagine that, though.) – Or leaving Heather home alone with nothing to do.

— (Why not?)

— (You are so... Tall. Really tall.) – I know that stare.

— (...What are you looking at?) – Heather... What are you looking at? Don't lie.

— (Your hair.) – It isn't my hair she's looking at, but I just nod.

— (Oh, that's fine.)

— (Why are we whispering, Aunt Frigg?)

— (We don't want the food to go away, do we?)

— (Do the fish hear us from here?)

— (Who said that we will eat fish?) – It's what my father asked me at the time. He looked upon a starry night, took a deep breath, smoked a cigarette, blew it and took something out his pocket. Something like... – (Dead Pepper?)

— (Here!) – Our secret weapon...

— (No, no, no! Careful!) – Heather almost let that thing fall. Whew, I'm glad she didn't. – (Be careful. That's some hot stuff you have there.)

— (I know. It's pepper.)

— (Not any kind of pepper.) – My old man said that too. I handled the pepper to him like Heather did. Of course I didn't let it slip out of my hand like soap. – (Good girl. Now, let me...)

— (Are you gonna throw the pepper at the lake?)

— (Yes, I will!) – I was so scared, knowing something would happen. My father was a madman. I wonder what he used to smoke... – (Ready?)

— (Ready.) – Heather nodded, so I was ready. With all my strength, I threw the Dead Pepper at the lake.

— (My God... Quick! The fishing net! Grab one side while I grab another, stretch it out and wait.)

— (For what?)

— (You will see.) – And then, everything goes BOOOOOOOM! First time I saw it was like seeing fireworks bursting in front of me. The lake beneath us dries up and its water goes up like a fountain. A fountain popping out dead frogs, now we can stop whispering because they have nowhere else to go. – Tonight, we'll be having a frog meal!

— Yummy! – I'm sure Heather will like it. Though, she ain't that happy. She feels sad for the frogs. We're all covered in their vessels. – Poor froggie. Why do we have to kill to eat?

— Yeah, I wonder why. – I wish...everything could be settled without resorting to violence... and there would be no need for battles. – But you can't deny that blowing up the lake was amusing, right?

— Frogs can be a nuisance at times.

— And don't forget delicious! – Frog legs... it's been a while since I ate one of them.

— Sure! Uh... What do we do with frogs, aunt? Soup?

— No idea. I don't eat meat very much. – Not since I was a kid.

— Why not? You said they were delicious.

— Indeed they are. – I do remember the frog's meal taste. Soft, chewy, a bit like chicken. Some of these frogs are still alive, others not quite. It's terrifying to watch them covered in burns and dismembered. This is the reason why I stopped eating meat, all this cruelty... but going back to these marshes is like reviving my childhood. My bloody childhood.

— Aunt Frigg, you okay? – Heather asked.

— I… I am doing fine. – I said, grabbing the fishing net and pouring the tiny carcasses on the basket. The weight of many lives... but these are only frogs, aren't they? Look at Heather, she's starving. – Heather...

— Yes, Aunt Frigg? – it's a long way back home.

— I don't mind if you eat meat.

— If you say so...

— No, really. Eat your meat. Hunt if you want. But you can't deny an animal raised for food deserves a happy life before dying.

— Aunt? – Heather is worried. That girl should have no worries.

— Listen, Heather... This country enjoys meat. Since the dawn of time, Burmecians have devoured tons of meat, mostly without a thought, without being aware of the conditions those animals are raised at farms. Most people picture a happy farm, where cows graze, pigs wallow and chickens peck around.

— Do they?

— Well... It's what I believe.

— Is that truth?

— The truth... – My, sure I can't get these thoughts away, they're like iron and I'm the magnet. I can't tell the girl about the slaughter, confining animals in the dark so they become weak and their meat gets soft in someone's mouth. – Truth is, I'm not against killing animals, or eating meat, but I'm against mindless violence. I see no joy in man's gesture towards cruelty. And if man is allowed to be cruel with animals he considers inferior and weak, what will be of humans themselves? In cruelty, man degrades what it means to be human.

— Spoke the rat. – Yes, said the rat.

— Understand, Heather?

— ...I understood nothing, aunt.

— Yeah, the hypocrisy... Look, I just wanted to talk with you.

— No worry. Your name is Frigg, right? Frigg ain't a kid's name. Sounds like a grandma's one. – I feel old, but I'm just beginning my twenties. – How's your grandma doing?

— Resting in Peace. And yours?

— In Peace too. With mom. – Freya... She was almost my age, and to think that... No. Go away, bad thoughts! No bad taste in my food. Might be easy for me, but Heather...

— Have I told you about the time I met your mom?

— You did, aunt. Lots of times. – It doesn't matter how many times I count, Heather will always listen to me.

— I'll never forget... There was a huge crowd, and when I say huge, it was REALLY huge. Like everyone came out of their homes, people stood upon their house ceilings, kids rushed and crawled on their father's backs, there was dance and wine and the uproar louder than the rain. And all that Freya did was walk on her red coat as usual, from the main gates of Burmecia, through the avenue connecting every single neighborhood, and she kept walking until reaching the doors of the Royal Palace. It was like Freya became the Queen back then. Thinking about that, she'd make for a good Queen.

— Or a good mom. – I think I should listen better to Heather. I can't even see her face.

— Why are you wearing this cloak? Nobody's seeing you.

— I'll get a cold. – My, to get cold in a land that always rains?

— No need to feel shame. I'd like to-

— Laugh at my face?

— Why? I would never do that. Has someone ever laughed at you?

— No. My feet, though... I wish I'd cut my feet at times.

— My, that's gross. – Geez... there goes a good dinner night.

— I don't like my potato feet, and I can't get rid of them like stalwarts. See, I once had stalwarts in my fingers. Couldn't hold no one's hands, and couldn't tell what was stalwart, and what was finger. Daddy froze them all with a spell.

— Have you told it to your father? About not feeling right with your body? – To have this talk that soon...

— My feet? Nah, he doesn't listen. He says I should live with it, that's his answer. – Knowing Fratley, I feel that he just said it, and nothing else, even if it was not his intention. – Can't hide my damn feet!

— But to hide a good thing out of you... I don't understand.

— You mean my face? Daddy looks at me, and feels like he doesn't care.

— Of course he cares! He's your father.

— No, he is not. – I feel like I'm getting closer to Heather, but for the 'right wrongs'. – If he was, he wouldn't look weird at me.

— It's just how Fratley looks at everyone.

— Even me? – I asked, there's no reply. I look up and something about Burmecia's skies... It's quite the dark and gloomy you don't see anywhere else. – What are you looking at, aunt? The sky?

— Beautiful. Don't you think?

— The clouds look sad.

— They do. A kind of sadness unlike any other, like the soul of the many warriors who were born and fought at these lands are flowing upon each of us. Heather, when someone tells you about Heaven, do you picture a sky and its clouds?

— With mom?

— Yes. Your mom deserves Heaven. – Like a child deserves someone to be taken care of.

— Excuse me, aunt Frigg. Sorry if I may sound rude...

— Uh huh. – I wonder what it is that Heather is about to say. She looks uncomfortable about it. – What's up, Heather?

— Mind if I ask... Are you and dad just friends?

— What do you mean?

— Uh... I mean, you two are very close, and he is widowed, so...

— Us two!? No, no! Nothing is going on between me and Fratley. – I hope it is not. With my utmost respect to Sir Fratley, I'm not very fond of thin guys. – We're birds of a feather, great buddies... Nothing else. I'm totally head-over-heels in love with someone else.

— And who would that be?

— Secret. – I said. Also, why the hell are we having this conversation? Heather just laughs shyly, it's kind of cute, but what a terrible girl she is at times. Still cute, though.

— Hehe... What a relief. – Heather's mood swings in a way as unpredictable as the sun and the rainfall. – I don't want a stepmother. They're evil and mean to their kids.

— Who said all stepmothers are evil? I have one and she is the most wonderful person I know.

— I know. Fairy tales suck. – Heather, the only girl I know who laughs and then feels sad in a matter of seconds and then smiles to disguise the pain.

— Speaking of fairy tales, my father told me a story about two knights, one called Galahad and one called Lancelot. They have a lot in common with us.

— Do they?

— Yes, darling. They do. – I remember hearing this very tale whenever I went to sleep. I have long forgotten the lullaby mom sang to me, and to be honest I'm not very good at singing. – Galahad was so good he didn't even try. Goodness came easy to him. He was like a saint, pure by heart, a perfect knight. Lancelot, however, had something bad in him, so he had to struggle and work harder on himself to prove his good. It made him even better.

— Truly inspiring.

— Tell me, Heather... Why do you wear this hood?

— Just when we were having a nice conversation... – And so everything began to taste bitter all of sudden. Not even once Heather took out her hood, and that worries me. – If you want to know, it's because no one deserves to look at me. I am the Crescent family's laughing stock, after all. Let's not talk about it, okay?

— I understand the power of masks, child. To slip behind a false face, hide our weaknesses from the world... Become everything our fathers and mothers, friends and lovers told us we could never be.

— Lovers? Like your secret affair.

— Honey, we'll have this talk when you grow up. Right now, lemme ask you... Don't you think it's so dark there? A little hard to breathe? Isn't that a little scary? – I try to approach Heather with my words. – The problem with masks is that they hide the best of us.

— Some masks hide what we are, Aunt Frigg. But others reveal it. – Sometimes Heather feels so distant it's unreachable. I try to understand her jumbled feelings and messed thoughts kept inside a jar with the lid screwed on tight. – I am a freak, an aberration, a weirdo, the ugly duckling's deformed cousin...

— ...And a good girl. – I think it's time to be less the inspiring Dragoon Knight and more of a down-to-earth mouse. Though, I can't avoid sounding all poetic. – Remember, we're all like Lancelot, angels with horns, devils with wings. We struggle with our own darkness to shed some light within our hearts.

— Thanks for the reminder. – And then, just as Heather pours her hood out... I find myself staring at a pretty red-haired Burmecian girl with crispy hair and a few freckles. It's quite a rare sight of beauty, but I wonder what's so wrong about it that makes Heather hate herself a lot. She throws a stone at a lake that just sinks. – I feel like people hate me not only because I'm different, but it is as if they know me so damn well and they have a hard time accepting who I am. Ain't that weird? Because I am a Burmecian like you, dad, mom, the rest... ain't that enough?

I'm not very much into gossip, but from what I heard out of fair-weather friends, Freya had an affair with someone other than Sir Fratley. I don't know who, or if that's true, not that I care. What I can't ignore are the kind of people who blame this poor innocent girl for something she didn't do. It ain't her fault that Freya is gone, neither she deserves to take the blame.

— You know what's weird? That there will always be people who say mean words because you are different, and sometimes, their minds cannot be changed. – Heather and I stare at each other's disturbed ripples. – But there are many more people that do not judge people based on how they look, or where they came from. Those are the people whose words truly matter. Let's go home.

— Yeah, if I don't go to sleep, dad will kill me. – She said. Heather, your red hair is burning... Yellow jokes come out of your mind.