Chapter Seven:
Something Impossible

Killian

Germanin left shortly after handing over Kubera's sword to Killian. Swords were heavy, but this one was the heaviest Killian had ever held in his hands. It was a weight that had nothing to do with its mass. After all, Goron steel was lighter.

It was a weight that accompanied the disgust he felt in himself.

Killian had known it was just a stupid, fleeting thought. That it wasn't really what he had wanted. What he really wanted was not this. It was just something impossible.

No, this—this was not what he wanted at all.

But all the same, the thought had whispered, uninvited into his mind. He had even thought he had set those secret wants aside a long time ago. He had been happy to just be "Uncle" Killian. He loved Ven and Rini like they were his own. But maybe it had been living here with them—with her—like this that caused them to stir again. Had he fooled himself without knowing?

Whatever it was, it slithered in and whispered to him: If he dies, maybe she could be mine.

The thought itself had shocked him the moment it occurred to him. A rebuke had followed quickly.

Fuck, Killian, he's your best friend. Stop being an asshat. Ceres would be disgusted with you.

It was the same rebuke he had told himself time and time again when they were younger. When that secret had burned new and bright in his chest. It had caught him by surprise back then too. He had grown up in Kakariko, knowing the Kali girls, though he had never really talked to them much during the early years of childhood. He had never had any reason to, but it wasn't as if he had believed all the babble about them being necromancers. However, he had still dared Kubera to go talk to the most intimidating of the pair: Ceres.

Killian had only dared Kubera because they were bantering about who was the bravest out of them. He had only done it as a joke, but Kubera wasn't about to back down from anything. He never did.

Kubera had thrown all caution to the wind and asked her, "So, is it true the Kali curse anyone who approach them?"

Ceres had given the appropriate response to a boy who only spoke to her on dare. Killian had been close enough to see the flat stare she had regarded him with before responding, "I wouldn't worry about it. Taking a look at you, I think the Goddesses got to you first."

Needless to say, by the time Kubera returned, Killian was still roaring with laughter.

"Heh, so how you feelin'? Cursed?" he had asked him when he finally managed to calm himself.

Tori had been still giving him that softly disappointed stare that Killian had become so used to ignoring. "Killian, stop already. She can probably still hear you."

Maybe the other villagers would have said that out of fear, but Killian knew Tori had said it out of compassion. His brother had never spoken an ill word about anyone, even if they deserved it. He had been protesting and scolding Killian for even coming up with such a dare to begin with.

"Actually, I'm feeling pretty blessed," Kubera had answered all the same, turning back to where Ceres was still glowering at them before having the audacity to wink at her. "A pretty girl talked to me. I'll chalk that up as a win."

From that day on, Kubera had been determined to talk to Ceres whenever he saw her it seemed. So soon Killian was around the Kali girl a lot more than he had expected to be. He found himself laughing at her sarcastic remarks, which were especially sharp during those early days with Kubera. He had started thinking that his friend was right. She was pretty, particularly when she gave them those deadpan stares but even more when Kubera got her to smile. He started talking to her himself, trying to see if he could make her smile too.

At first, he had thought it was just the idea of being with a Kali girl that excited him. After all, his father was Elias Serwen, prodigy mage who took down Aliyah Kali. Wouldn't that just be a stinger up his old man's ass? The thought had amused him, but he had brushed it off. He had grown to know Ceres, and while he might be an asshat, he wasn't the kind of asshat that would play with someone's heart just to get back at his father. That aside, he had known Kubera was serious about her by then.

Besides, it had seemed to Killian that Ceres didn't need any more hardship in her life. He hadn't really known before. It was just something that didn't really happen all that much, but it came slowly to him in bits and pieces. A soft touch to her arm that shouldn't have caused her to flinch that way. Nor was Ceres the type who flinched willingly; she was too proud for that. Once or twice he managed to catch sight of an ugly, dark purpling bruise on the lower part of her midriff when she was once reaching up high for something.

Killian didn't pretend to know what that was like. His father had never raised his voice. He never needed to. Those reproachful green eyes, staring down his nose at him was enough. His father had never raised a hand to him either, though by Din, Killian had tried his best to make him. After all, some kind of emotional response would have been something. It would have been something more than just those cold, disdainful stares. Being a good boy like Tori hadn't worked. Killian had no magic like Sylric. So what else was an angry little shit like him supposed to do to make the bastard notice him?

He had been smarter than Tori, though. He had caught on quickly. There was nothing that was ever going to turn their father's head, and soon Killian found himself working to get a raise out of Elias just for the sheer spite of it. To let him know, he didn't give a fuck anymore.

Killian didn't have a parent who would scream at him or beat him, but he knew what it was like to have a parent who didn't love you.

He never really saw Hera out and about or even with Ceres and Fae. She was a recluse, and no one really complained that there was one less Kali roaming around in the village. Their house sat off in the eastern edge of the village on a hill as the mountain side began to rise there, overlooking the village, almost opposite of where Lady Impa's house sat in a similar way.

No one went there, not unless they were kids playing some kind of courage game, especially on holidays like the Day of Courage. Or they were a concerned Sheikah, which he did see coming back down from the hill on occasion. While the more highly trained and initiated elites spent most of their time in Castle Town, the Sheikah were still a people that saw through others. Though most people probably just assumed they were checking up on the Kali family to make sure they weren't breaking Sheikah law.

But one day, after he came of age, he had been passing by that trail that led up the hill, to the Kali house. This time, Fae had come running down it. He had paused to greet her only to fall short of words when he saw her tear-streaked face and a reddening mark on her cheek. Their eyes had met and Fae just whispered with a tremble:

"Please help Ceres."

He had run up the hill to that house, Fae trailing behind him. He heard Hera screaming something as he approached. Killian pounded on their door until the screaming stopped, and Ceres opened it. Her eyes had been red from crying, her cheeks still flushed with the emotion, but she glared at him like he was the one being rude.

He had grabbed her hand anyway and pulled her out of that house. He had stormed off with her without saying a word, her mother screaming after them, yelling for Ceres and Fae to come back. Killian hadn't said anything. He just brought her in front of Kubera's house, knocked on the door, and practically pushed her into his arms.

By then Killian knew that it wasn't just the idea of getting a raise out of Elias, but by then he also knew the way she looked at Kubera, and he knew the way Kubera looked at her.

She never went back to that house. She had stayed with Kubera, and soon after, they were moving with Fae to Castle Town. Ceres and Kubera got engaged.

What he wanted was something impossible, because there was no way for no one to get hurt.

Killian had put it aside.

She was happy, and that was all he could ever hope for. He would definitely be an ass if he stirred shit up just because of how he felt. He never saw himself as the type to settle in anyway. He had wanderlust. He had always wanted to see the world, and he knew that was not exactly aligned with getting married and starting a family, and a family had been what Ceres wanted. Besides, staying single and promiscuous had seemed to annoy Elias, so it had its perks. People in Kakariko talked and gossiped like usual when he had visited, and now it was about how that Serwen wouldn't commit.

He'd visit Ceres and Kubera, along with Fae and her husband as well as Tori and Amaya when they were in Castle Town. Soon they all had little ones on the way, and that was enough for him. Seeing them born, watching them grow, playing with them. Killian had been content just being part of the family. A part that could come and go as he pleased.

Or so he had thought. Hadn't it been enough? Why did foolish thoughts plague him now of all times? Why would he think such a terrible thing?

Fae, Avarin, Tarento, and Akata. His friends had died during the last war. Kubera had been all he had left of his friends.

Now he held a sobbing Ven in his arms. Killian carried him, soaking wet and covered in mud into the house, that sword still a heavy weight in his hand.

"Killian, where have you two …" Ceres' question halted in its tracks as the entire house—which had been filled with merriment and cheer merely a second ago—suddenly went deathly quiet. The only sounds were Ventus' loud sobs, which now echoed against the sorrowful rain.

"What … what happened?" she asked just as her eyes found her husband's sword in his hand.

Their eyes met, but Killian's shifted away as he set Ventus down on his feet, his hand still holding his. He walked up to her as the kind woman from before, Elise, came and collected Ven, asking him softly why he was crying. Killian finally lifted his gaze to hers, taking Kubera's sword in both of his hands, holding it between them.

"... Germanin came," he began, his throat tightening on him, just as unwilling to allow the words through as he was to speak them. He hadn't wanted to do this now, tonight. He had wanted to wait for tomorrow or maybe forever, but with Ventus like this, he'd have to do it now. "He brought this … Ceres, I'm so sorry … Kubera …"

He was staring at the sword now, unable to look her in the eyes as he spoke. His voice choked as he felt his face contort, fighting against the grief taking shape there.

"He's … he's gone."

Ven gave another loud, anguished wail.

"Oh Goddesses," Ceres gasped, her voice cracking before shattering into a million pieces. "No … not … not Kubera."

That was when a silent wail escaped her lips. While her son's were loud, Ceres barely made a sound except for the small gasps for air.

Kubera's sword clattered to the wood floor as Killian stepped forward, his hands going to her shoulders before his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest.

"I'm so sorry," he choked softly to her, his cheek pressing against the side of her head, his hand cradling the back of it.

He wanted her happy, not like this. How was she supposed to be happy after this? That's why he knew what he wanted was impossible, not without someone getting hurt and that wasn't part of what he wanted. Why'd Kubera have to leave her like this? Why hadn't he just left the city with them, not leave them alone? Especially when they were more alone than other families were ever supposed to be. They needed him more than anyone else. They were Kalis. You can't just leave them alone.

He remembered Germanin's words. "He was a devoted knight to the end."

That same ugly voice from somewhere deep in the dark corners of his mind—as Ceres clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her from drowning—whispered in his ear, Not much of a devoted father or husband though, was he?

After Ceres and Ven had cried themselves to sleep, Killian had gone outside by himself in the rain. That awful little whisper in his head drifted along with the grief that tightened his throat and ached with an emptiness in his core. It was side-by-side with the other thought that he would never get to hear another stupid arm or hand joke again. Kubera wouldn't grow old. He wouldn't get to see his children grow up. He would never know his own grandchildren.

Maybe it was true that Kubera was never home with his family as much as Killian thought he should be. That he had seemed to have put his duty as a knight before his duty to his family. What family was perfect though? What person was perfect? What did that matter now that he was dead and could be none of these things to anyone?

Killian's cry of anger and grief was drowned out in the rain and wind as it tore out of his throat like an enraged and wounded animal.

Since the news of Kubera's death, a heaviness had taken over the Agni family. Ventus, while eager to learn sword before, began to work himself to the bone. No longer was he the carefree boy Killian had known—in his eyes, his mother's eyes—a certain hardness and determination to learn the sword possessed him like some sort of spirit.

Ceres would break down crying at random intervals, and it would sometimes get so bad she would need to excuse herself until she could collect herself. Her sobs were always silent though—it was almost as if she couldn't let people hear her grieve.

Only Rini, it seemed, to be somewhat normal. Cheerful and peppy, it was like she was Fae reborn. This began to lead to rumors around the girl—that she wasn't quite right in the head. Some said she was grieving, putting on an act for her mother and brother. Others said she simply didn't care that her father died. Killian could understand that, though he was certain that Rini was just in shock.

He hadn't known what to feel either when his father died. Killian had been the one to identify the body too. Elias had always been so much larger than life, and he knew in some ways Kubera had been that for his children too, particularly Ven. It was hard to believe that such people could die.

Either way, a quiet discontent was still fermenting.

"Killian, I don't know what I'm going to do."

Ceres lowered her hands, the potato she had been cleaning moments before hung loosely in her hands. Her eyes looked heavy and tired, bags hanging under them; it was the same look he saw in Kakariko that day. This time … this time though, there was no defiance. No inner fire. It seemed like the will to live had finally left her. That scared him more than anything.

Killian swept over, his hand grasped hers around the potato. His other hand went tentatively to her shoulder.

"Hey, it—" But he stopped himself and sighed, shaking his head. "No, I'm not going to say it's going to be fine, but it'll take time. We'll figure it out."

How could things be fine without Kubera? Killian was still caught in the middle of grieving his best friend and also hating him for not being there. Hating him for unearthing these disturbing thoughts and feelings. If he hadn't died, maybe Killian wouldn't be thinking these things. Yet, he still understood why he did what he did. The war had changed Kubera. Maybe before, he would have left with Ceres and his kids. But after all they had lost, Kubera said he didn't want anyone to have to feel that way again.

But now his family was. He supposed Kubera had also wanted something impossible.

He squeezed her shoulder, giving her his own sad and tired smile.

Ceres looked up at him, her brow furrowing ever so slightly, a gentle frown on her face.

"We? What about your family? I just … can't take you away from them," she said; when it came to what people said—and didn't say—Ceres could hear it all. Taking a shuddering breath, and with her free hand, rubbed her eyes. "You've already done so much for us, asking for more would be … selfish."

"Ceres, you're my family too." There was no way he could leave now. Though a part of him wanted to. If he left, then maybe he could also leave these thoughts behind him, but he couldn't do that to her and the kids either. "Tori has Amaya. They'll be fine. I'm right where I need to be."

For the first time since Kubera died, a small, grateful smile appeared on Ceres' face. It wasn't a large one, but it seemed to radiate.

"Thank you, Killian. You've always been so sweet to me and my family. I don't know what I would do without you."

Ah, she shouldn't say things like that, while this mean little voice in him lingered and haunted him.

Happy now, aren't you?

He didn't want to be, but her words and that smile had lifted his spirits some. Like how he couldn't decide if he hated or missed Kubera, he couldn't decide whether to be pleased or guilty. It was some confused mixture of both. He had felt similarly even before the news of his death. He got Ventus that wooden sword just like he knew Kubera had been planning. He had felt self-conscious about it, so he said to think of it as from both of them. He didn't want it to seem like he was trying to replace him.

He didn't want to feel so hopeful when she said things like that. Kubera was barely dead to them for a week. What could he possibly hope for? He shouldn't even hope for it. It was disgusting, indecent of him. Nor did Ceres need something like that right now.

He let go of her hand.

"It's what family is for."

He was Uncle Killian, and that was all.

A month flew by. Perhaps because it was the middle of the night, or perhaps it was because when Killian woke up to go to the outhouse and Rini wasn't there sleeping next to that young friend of hers—but the fire outside in the distance seemed painfully out of place.

While there were always patrols at the walls, the flickering light wasn't anywhere near the wall; in fact it was more toward the fields. Which was worrying since the fields were almost ready to harvest, if all went well. The last thing they could afford—especially with so many mouths to feed—was the destruction of their crops.

There were no burning crops. There was just Rini sitting next to a sloppily made fire pit, staring into the flames, watching them dance.

Killian arched his brow as he approached. When had she learned to start fires on her own? It was dangerous to say the least.

"Rini?" he said as he came up to her and her fire. "What are you doing out here?"

The small girl jerked in surprise, the spell the flames seemed to hold over her a moment ago now broken. Looking at Killian guiltily before her eyes darted back to the small fire, it took her a good long minute for her to be able to drag her eyes away from it again.

"I couldn't sleep," she mumbled.

Killian took a seat next to her by the fire, his arms propped up on his knees. "Why's that?"

"My mind is keeping me up," Rini shrugged helplessly. "Ya know … when you start to nod off, and then you remember and think about things you don't want to?"

"Uh huh …"

Boy did he know that, especially recently. Though he supposed he felt passingly better, since he decided to just put those things away again. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

"So … you wanna tell me what kind of stuff is keeping you up?" Killian could imagine, but he wanted her to tell him.

However, instead of answering him, the young girl asked him a question.

"Am I a bad person, Uncle Killian?"

Killian cocked his head at her, somewhat confused. Though he knew the other parents and adults in the village had been talking about Rini's lack of reaction. Most seemed concerned, others seemed disturbed by it.

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"'Cause I haven't cried like Mom and Ven have," Rini said, picking up a stick and poking at the fire before throwing it in, watching that burn. "He was my dad, but I don't feel like crying. Doesn't that make me a bad daughter? A bad person?"

Killian sighed, staring into the fire. She shouldn't have to worry about things like this at this age, but war has a tendency to force you to grow up or just twist your thoughts a bit more.

"You don't have to act like … other people think you should," said Killian. "I didn't cry when my father died either. How you feel, is how you feel. Sometimes, that doesn't come out on the surface like it seems it should. That's okay."

He looked over at her and smiled. He knew Rini was grieving in her own way.

"You loved your dad, right?" he asked.

"Of course!" Rini said quickly and forcefully before looking down once more, her voice becoming softer. "Of course, I loved him. He was my dad. I just wish I could cry like Mom and Ven have. Maybe… maybe it would be easier."

Killian shrugged. "Maybe, but you'll cry when it's time or if you need to. But I think it's enough that you know you loved him. You don't have to cry to prove it."

"Really?" A small hopeful look crossed her face as she looked at him.

He smiled again. "Yeah, you don't have anything to prove to anyone. Just be yourself."

Killian supposed he had needed to remind himself of that too. He knew he couldn't replace Kubera. That nasty voice in him was still there, but it wasn't like he had to pay it so much attention. His unwanted thoughts had no control over him. Just because he thought terrible things didn't mean he had to act on such things. He didn't need to overcompensate and be self-conscious about Ceres, Ven, and Rini just because of all this. He didn't need to prove anything. He would have always taken care of them just the same, Kubera alive or dead. Unwanted thoughts and feelings or not.

After all, he was Uncle Killian.

"Thanks, Uncle Killian."

Damn straight.

She smiled gratefully before looking really nervous. "... You aren't going to tell my mom about this and the fire, are you?"

Killian smirked. "Well, that depends … If you promise to stop starting fires on your own. It's fine if you want to, but come ask me so that you don't hurt yourself or… burn down the crops, okay?"

"I know how to start fires safely," she pouted, puffing her cheeks out, somewhat resembling a squirrel with its mouth full of nuts. "It's easy." There was a pause. "But if you wanna watch the flames too, I guess I'll let you know."

"Alright, it's a promise though," he said. "Or I'm telling your mother."

"It's a promise," she agreed.

Another moon came and went. The time for harvesting was close at hand. The farmers prepared to tend the fields, and the woodsmen, woodswomen, and hunters of the village Sakriven prepared for war. News of other villages being attacked and raided for their goods had reached their ears. The Gerudos seemed to wait to attack the farming communities until they had harvested their crops. Though some attacked early, only killing some of the citizens to prove a point. It was said that the villages who had promised their harvest to the Gerudo were spared. The Sakriven people were proud and had agreed to fight for their resources. After all, how were they to survive the winter if they gave the Gerudos all their food?

Killian was not just helping train young Ventus now but other young women and men who were of age and permitted to fight if they wished as well. Germanin had left to go aid another village who had few fighters to help in training.

Fuck, they were all so young.

Killian had joined the guard for the training mostly when he was fifteen, but he still didn't see war until he was twenty. Granted, the Gerudo War hadn't started until then. A few of the younger children of the village were also interested in the training he provided Ventus, and he trained them too even if they weren't allowed to fight yet.

The problem was, Ventus didn't seem to accept that he wouldn't be allowed to fight until he was of age.

At every turn, he was pointing out that when the Gerudo came, they wouldn't care who was fifteen and who wasn't. That they needed everyone who could fight, to take up arms and push the Gerudo back. That this was wartime and the rules of peace didn't apply.

"Ven," said Killian with exasperation, yet again. "Even during the last war, no one was allowed to fight until they were fifteen. Obviously, I'm training you so you can defend yourself, but even so that's only if you absolutely have to. When the fighting starts, you will be with your mother and sister and everyone else who can't or shouldn't fight."

"But why?" he complained, stamping his foot into the ground, throwing yet another miniature temper tantrum. "I've gotten a lot better! I'm not going to be some dead weight!"

"Hey, don't call your mother and sister dead weight." Killian gave Ventus a brisk tap on the head for his lip. He wanted to remind him that he wasn't just calling himself that. "Think of yourself as an investment, like the crops. They have to grow, but during that time just because you can't harvest and eat them doesn't mean they're useless, dead weight. You just need to have patience. Even if your age wasn't the problem, I'm still not ready to hand over a real sword to you, kiddo."

"What do I need to do for you to think I'm ready?" the boy demanded, but underneath his anger and frustration, there was a hint of a plea in his voice. A desperate plea which drove him to work himself to the point of exhaustion, past his limits, and toward a dream he held since he was old enough to have a dream; to become a knight. A dream which now has taken on a twisted obsession.

"Just keep practicing but also rest more," said Killian. Farore, please, have him rest more. "This is the sort of thing that can't be rushed. You'll hurt yourself if you keep working yourself as hard as you have been. If you injure yourself, it'll keep you from being able to train, and then you'll just be slowing your own progress down. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing."

That seemed to stop his protests—at least for the time being. It wouldn't last though; Ven was stubborn that way.

Killian flopped down in exhaustion in a seat next to Ceres at the hearth where she was helping cook dinner for the village. "I'm not sure where he gets it more from, you or Kubera."

He paused awkwardly, realizing he mentioned him. "Sorry …"

Ceres smiled at him, though it didn't quite meet her eyes. There was still a sadness to them, but she no longer cried anymore.

"It's fine," she said, pushing the bread around, making sure it cooked evenly on all sides. "And Kubera, hands down. The obstinate part though is definitely me. My mother hated that about me."

Killian smiled, smirking in that roguish manner he did. "Pity, I always found it quite charming. Though I suppose Elias never appreciated the trait in me either … Maybe that's why I like it so much."

"Don't seem to be appreciating it too much right now," Ceres pointed out, her lips pulling up in a slight smirk, a hint of the sass of her childhood—the sass which seemed to escape her every word before she moved to Castle Town and Fae disappeared. It was good to hear it again.

She also sort of had him there. "It's different," he implored, a playful plea in his tone. "I wasn't trying to storm off into a war at eleven-years-old."

Though he had to admit, he had enjoyed refusing to tell Elias who gave him the cursed wound on his face a little too much. It was one of the few times he had ever seen his father so angry. Having the power to deny the old man something he seemed to really want had been a little too delicious. That had him wondering for the first time, what was Sylric up to now? The way his scar itched on stormy nights made him hope the bastard was dead in a ditch somewhere.

"There also wasn't a war when we were eleven," she reminded him before her eyes took a sadness to them. Sitting down in front of the hearth, she placed the hook like device she used to turn the pot next to her, propping against the brick. "It seemed I passed on a terrible trait. Being stubborn is one thing but nothing I say anymore will get through to him. He keeps telling me he'll protect myself and Rini not seeming to understand he's just a boy."

"Hey, it's not such a terrible trait," said Killian, stealing a piece of bread from her finished batch. "I mean, he wants to protect the people he loves. That's a noble thing; he just … needs a little reality check is all."

"He is a good boy," Ceres agreed, swatting his arm half-heartedly for his theft. "It's just … I'm worried he won't get it until something terrible happens. I mean I knew pissing off Mother was never a good idea, but I did it anyway. I'm sure you have similar stories."

Killian smirked. Boy did he. His smile faded though as he thought of Ventus. "I know what you mean. I'm worried he'll get hurt." Or worse. "That necklace you gave him on his birthday, it was Fae's right?"

Ceres was quiet for a moment, before nodding.

"Yes. She had left in such a hurry that day she left it behind. I can't help but wonder even now, if she had it on she would be here, alive, with her little boy." Ceres sighed. "But she didn't so I'll never know. I can only hope it'll protect Ven."

A bell started ringing hurriedly in the distance. Killian dropped his bread. His green eyes locked onto Ceres'. It was the warning bell for when the Gerudo were attacking.

"I'll help get everyone inside," she said, jumping to her feet, grabbing the hook device, her grip tightening around it so her knuckles turned white. "Go." She paused and looked once more at him, adding, "And come back," before breaking out to a run to help others to safety.

Killian watched her go for a moment, and then was running as quickly as he could to where he had last left Ventus. There was no way he was forgetting about the little brat in all of this. As he had thought, he found Ventus trying to sneak off with a real sword that was too big for him.

Ventus seemed to hear him approach before he said anything though; the brat's hearing was both irritating and amazing.

"I'm fighting," he said, lifting the sword in a ready position, it wobbling slightly before it dipped back down. While it didn't touch the ground, it was clear to anyone with a brain not only was it too big, but it was too heavy for the boy. Even if he was ready to fight, he wouldn't be winning any duels with that.

Killian just rolled his eyes and without pausing in his steady pace toward the lad, he reached, grabbed the sword, and twisted it out of his hands. In another fluid motion he was scooping Ventus up and slinging him over his shoulder.

"How about this—you can fight when I can't do that to you anymore," said Killian as he headed toward to the designated safe "house," a barn at the center of the village.

"Uncle Killain!" Ventus protested, squirming in his arms, once more throwing a tantrum. "I can fight! I can help protect everyone!"

"Uh huh."

He kept Ventus contained until he spotted Ceres helping an elderly man into the barn.

"Milady, this is yours," he called.

Ceres ran up to Killian, taking the squirming boy—whose protests now rose in volume—from him.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly before glaring at her son. "Sneaking off, I imagine? For once Ventus, can you just listen. This isn't a game!"

"But—"

"No buts! Inside! Now!" Putting him down, she shoved him inside the house, Elise helping usher him inside more, assuring the two she would keep "a good eye on him." Turning to Killian, fear— and gratefulness—shone in her eyes. "Thank you. Be safe out there."

Killian gave her his signature rogue smile. "As you wish, milady."

Ventus

It was loud.

Despite nobody saying a thing, it was loud.

The hyperventilating. The silent crying. The pounding heartbeats. The creaking of the boards. The ringing of the warning bells. Everything. It was too damn loud.

"Ven."

Despite Rini's voice being barely louder than a whisper in reality, it was like she had shouted in his ear, and he winced. Her small hand found it's way into his as he watched more non-fighters filtering in, and in the doorway, he would occasionally catch glimpses of their mother, helping those who needed it. While he never thought of it before now, he kind of felt like Mom would have been a great knight too, just like Dad. After all, a knight's duty was to the people and even if Mom wasn't taking up arms, she was still helping those who needed it.

"Ven."

Rini tugged on his hand, her voice more insistent. He looked down, finally, trying to ignore the loudness of his surroundings, but it was easier said than done.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"What if they find us here?" she asked, the last of the non-combatants filtering in, Mom trailing them and securing the door behind her.

"They won't," he assured her with confidence. "We have a wall around us. Food inside, not to mention a lot of fighters including me." Once again the bitterness at not being allowed to fight bubbled inside. "This won't be like Castle Town. This time we're prepared."

Rini didn't look quite assured, but nodded all the same as Mom came over to them, a bread hook in her hand.

"Be quiet, you two," she instructed in a stern whisper, her eyes flickering around them warily.

Ven wanted to complain everybody else was being loud anyway, but one look from her caused his mouth to snap shut. He fought this battle before, pointing out he wasn't the only one, but Mom never cared about that sort of thing.

So he fell into a sullen silence. That was until ten minutes later he started hearing new sounds … sounds he didn't recognize. Furrowing his brow, he tried to concentrate on them, everything else making it difficult, but his question on what they could be would be answered soon enough.

The sounds were the barely audible crunching footsteps of people outside. Barely audible only to Ven but unnoticed to everyone else in the barn. Then there was a loud, banging knock on their front door.

"Out NOW!" barked a harsh female voice. "Or we'll burn you all alive in there."

"What?" Mom whispered, horrified and shocked, standing up as there were cries of surprise echoing around the barn. Rini whimpered, holding on to Ven's hand tighter. "The Gerudo? How?"

Nobody moved for the door.

In the next moment, the barn doors were swinging open with an audible creak and whine from the hinges. A large group of Gerudos stood outside, about twenty-five of them. Plenty to kill all fifty or so of the children, elderly, or untrained of the village. They were dressed in a cool and dark shade of green rather than the typical warm and bright red and orange of their warriors. Their outfits also covered more of their skin than the typical Gerudo warrior. They had cowls, but these were now pulled down on most of them, showing their blazing red hair. Their weapons were smaller, thinner knives and blades than the larger scimitars usually seen.

One was holding a flaming torch. A tall Gerudo next to her with long, curly hair, folded her arms over her chest. "Hmm, no, let's keep them inside. If they don't surrender then we can light it up."

The shorter one nodded. "Right …"

Horrified silence lasted for a moment. Hearts pounded, one thought going through the minds of the gathered Hylians; What do we do?

All except for one.

Ven's.

With an enraged cry, instead of cowering or cry like some of the smaller children started to do, the boy dashed forward, his mother's fingers reaching out to stop him but only grabbing air.

They left him behind and now he was the only fighter right here. He would show Killian. He would show them all. He didn't have a plan, but there was no time to think, just to act.

"I won't let you!" he roared, going for the one who had the torch.

The tall Gerudo merely lifted her leg and planted her foot into his gut, using mostly his own rushing force against him. Gasping for air, holding his stomach, ignoring his mother's yells and his sister's crying, he staggered to his feet.

It was a minor setback.

"Oh …? He's up," said the short up in what sounded like mild surprise and amusement.

He rushed again, snarling. They were looking down on him. They all were. He could hear his mother demanding for people to move out of her way, approaching him. She was going to stop him, he just knew it. However, he couldn't afford to let her. To let anyone. He would show her—he'd show everyone!

The next foot struck directly in his face. He felt his nose break and blood gush. As he crashed to the floor again, a shadow fell over him. The two Gerudo's voices drifted over.

"I guess that's all he could take …"

"What did you expect? He's just a kid."

"Shut up," he growled, pushing himself upward, stars in his vision, but he wouldn't yield. Couldn't yield. "I'm not done with you yet."

The voice of the short one with the torch tinkled out in a laugh. "Oh, I like this one. Hit him again. Harder this time."

The tall one compiled, this time slamming a fist into the side of his head. Ven crashed to the floor again. The pain in his head pounded heavily, and it was getting hard to see, but once more he forced himself up, glaring hatefully and snarling.

"Oh, he's just a peach!" the shorter one laughed again. "Do it again—"

There was a sharp cry of anger, surprise, and pain, and the tall one fell to her knees. Her hand went back toward her head as his mother stood towering over her with her metal stick.

"Isn't so funny now, is it, bitch?" Mom spat, raising her improvised weapon again to hit the taller Gerudo woman again.

"Tch." The short one snorted in distaste.

But soon his mother was surrounded by three other Gerudos in green. Her weapon was grabbed and tugged out of her hands as they grabbed her arms and held them behind her. The tall one was slowly standing up, still cradling the back of her head.

"Damn … my fault though, Taina, I let my guard down."

The short one snorted. "I don't care … So who's this? Mummy?"

"Let her go!" Ven yelled, running at the Gerudo again, this time to save his mother, clearly not learning his lesson the first few times.

The shorter Gerudo had passed her torch off to another. She walked up and grabbed Ven's head and slammed it down into her knee.

"Ventus!" he heard Mom screaming as well as Rini. He gasped in pain, but he didn't fall to the ground this time if only because the Gerudo still held his hair.

His fingers twitched, and he pulled his little fist back and slammed it into her leg with all his might.

"I … will … protect … everyone."

Ceres

Ceres pulled against the Gerudo who were holding her, rage once more filling her veins. She only managed to get one good hit in, and she cursed herself for not having a better weapon or going in for a killing blow. Even though she knew somewhere in the back of her head that killing the bitch could have meant death for them all, Ceres wasn't thinking about that.

She was just thinking about saving her son. Her foolish, stupid son.

Even now he was struggling valiantly, if not fruitlessly. Ever his father's son, but with none of his battle prowess.

If only … she thought, her eyes flicking around, looking for something, somebody to help. However, the living were too frozen in place in fear and the dead … the dead were nowhere to be found. She gritted her teeth.

Useless bastards. Never leaving me alone until when I actually want them.

She was a Kali! The granddaughter of the great—horrible, yes, but great—Aliyah Kali. Just the name sent fear and hatred into Hylians' hearts. She had that power in her; her mother had seen it and tried to beat it out of her. However, no matter how hard she hit, Ceres could see the dead clearly. All she needed to do was draw on it and make the Gerudo fear her family name too.

She didn't care it would break the law. There was no law when it came to war.

The short Gerudo chuckled at Ven's feeble attempt to injure her. She looked over at Ceres with short red hair windswept in her face. Her fingers still gripping her son's blond hair.

"I respect your ferocity. You're a mother. I get it, but … no one hits Lamra, okay? You should have been patient and quiet. Then he wouldn't have had to feel as much pain."

The tall one smirked, looking over at her. "Aw, my heart's all a flutter, babe."

"Shut it, Lamra."

She slammed Ven's face into her knee again and then shoved him onto his back. She slammed her heel down into his gut.

"Ventus!" Ceres cried, before glaring at the Gerudo women. "If you want to beat on anyone for hitting your girlfriend, hit me and leave my son alone!"

"Mom …" Ven gasped, his breathing heavy as he grasped the Gerudo's ankle and tried to push it off of him. "I said … I would protect you … didn't I? This … this is nothing." He glowered at the Gerudo above him. "Why are you doing this? Why … are you hurting everyone? I don't … understand."

Taina the Gerudo took her foot off him. She grabbed him by the hair again and tugged him up to his knees.

"Why? Din, what do they even teach Hylian kids?" asked Taina in exasperation. "This is why I hate Hylians. Such fucking martyrs. 'Oh, why me? What did I ever do to you?' What fucking bullshit. The fact you don't even know what your people have done to mine, makes me sick. Don't expect me to sit here and give you a history lesson. I don't owe you shit, kid."

Lamra rolled her eyes. "You done yet?"

"What, we got time."

That was when there was a blur of steel, and Taina's hand was no longer connected to her forearm. Her hand fell from Ven's head and onto the ground in front of him.

"Taina!" cried Lamra, who lurched forward, grabbing her comrade and pulling her back before Killian could take off her head. The tip of his blade grazed her throat.

"Fuckfuckfuck!" snarled Taina, grabbing her forearm as it spurted red hot blood.

"Killian …" Ceres whispered, her eyes widening in shock and relief. She had thought the Gerudo woman was going to kill her son, keep on beating him for being stupid enough to ask her why she was doing this despite Ceres plainly telling him it was because they were Gerudo.

If Kubera was her sun, then Killian was her north star. He was always guiding her; first when he rescued her from that infernal house and got her to safety, and now, in Sakriven, when he didn't leave them and took care of them after Kubera died. Now he was blazing to their rescue when he was needed most.

Killian stepped, swirling around, and headed for her and the Gerudo holding her. There was a flick of metal from his hand, and a knife embedded itself into the shoulder of one. She screamed angrily next to Ceres. The other two were reaching for their own weapons.

Killian used the moment to grab Ceres by the arm and tug her away. Their nails dug into her skin, but she came loose. In the same motion, she was already behind him. His back to her as he lifted his sword between them and the Gerudo. Stumbling forward, it took her a moment for her to keep her balance before rushing to her son's side, cradling the bruised body in her arms before turning to look back at Killian.

"Stop."

The three Gerudo halted though not happily. It was Lamra. She was just finishing binding a cloth around Taina's bleeding stump. She stood up, helping her to stand as well. Lamra's gaze was hard and fixed on Killian.

She growled slowly, "You are going to regret that."

"Yeah, maybe," Killian agreed. "Buuut, mostly not."

"You're fucking stupid!" growled Taina, panting in pain, sweat dewing on her face. "You came here alone? Heh—you're gonna fucking die."

No.

Once more the severity of the situation hit home. Killian was a skilled fighter, but against twenty-five Gerudo, his chances—their chances—of escaping alive were slim. There were plenty of hostages to choose from, and even then, if by some miracle they didn't resort to underhanded tactics they were still outnumbered in terms of capable fighters.

What do I need to do to even the odds?

"Well, I'm not completely stupid," said Killian calmly. "It's not like I didn't let anyone else know that there's no way you would focus your entire force just at the front gates. That's not how you Gerudo fight. You're not stupid."

"You think having told anyone is going to save you?" inquired Lamra, putting a hand on her hip. "Why do you even think we're here? Let your warriors come. That's what we want."

She gestured and a few more Gerudos approached with torches lit and standing nearby the barn, still full of the rest of the non-combatants.

"You always have a place to protect your weak. But you should be glad. This way less lives are lost. We're just saving you all from your own stubbornness. Your warriors will surrender, or they will lose what they value."

Killian was quiet for a moment, his back still to Ceres.

Taina's ragged, pained breathing filled the air. A twisted giggle tinkled out of her again. She fixed her narrowed gaze on Killian. "But not you … I want to see you die."

No. No. No. No. She just had to think, because there had to be something. Her mother hated her for a reason. Because she was a threat. How did she make the dead bend to her command?

Yet nothing came to mind. She learned nothing on how to use her magic despite Fae constantly nagging her to. Even after she left the house, she was too afraid to. After all, Elias Serwen was in Castle Town as well, always glaring at her. She managed to find some happiness, and she didn't want to do anything to have that taken away from her.

It was almost ironic; she had defied her mother to the end, but it seemed when a necromancer would have been acceptable, one was not to be found.

Lamra nodded to her other comrades, and they moved to close in on him. Killian didn't wait for that. He went for the one closest to him, but it also helped him put space between the other two that would eventually outnumber him. He clashed steel with her, as she drew a long blade that seemed more like a very large knife.

However, he only exchanged a few strikes and slashes with her before dodging one of hers by ducking and rolling. He veered instead off to the left, rolling up to his knees, and thrusting his sword forward and upwards into the middle of the other approaching Gerudo. Killian was rolling backwards again, almost as soon as he had stabbed her. Coming back onto his knee, he let his sword swing backwards, catching the Gerudo he had first started fighting in the ankle and cutting her foot most of the way off. She screamed and fell.

From his knees, he was soon springing back to his feet and rushing the third Gerudo. However, Killian slammed his heels into the dirt, stopping sooner than the Gerudo was expecting him to. It caused her to miss him in her horizontal swing. The mercenary was light on his feet. He was springing forward as soon as the tip of her scimitar brushed by him. His left hand pushed forward, pressing her sword arm down as he thrust his into her chest.

She fell, coughing blood, to his feet before lying still.

Killian turned to face the rest of the Gerudo, resting the flat of his bloody blade on his shoulder as he did so. He was breathing deeply but in a calm and controlled way. There was only a brief pause, and the deafening silence was only disturbed by the pained grunts of the Gerudo he had injured but not killed. He surveyed the twenty or so more Gerudo that stood before him.

Then they charged him, and he followed suit.

They soon had him surrounded on all sides. Killian was barely visible to Ceres through the bodies of the Gerudo warriors in green. He kept moving though, weaving through them. She heard more pained and angry cries from the Gerudos he injured. When a couple more hit the dirt, either injured or dying, more replaced them. Even so, she could see from there that his movements were getting slower, smaller.

Lamra had left Taina's side and was circling the pack around Killian. Her scimitar was drawn but loose at her side. She weaved slowly between the other warriors, stalking her prey in the center. Soon Ceres saw her crouching almost like a lioness before she darted through an opening.

She saw Lamra lunge forward and stab Killian in the gut with the end of her sword, and an audible gasp left her lips as Ventus cried out for his uncle.

This finally brought him to a halt. He grabbed the dull edge of the blade and tried to swing his at her, but she grabbed his wrist and pushed hers deeper into him, causing an angry, pained growl of his own to sound against his clenched teeth.

Then she pulled it out and yanked his sword from him.

Killian crumpled to his knees, red blood pooling at the front of his tunic, staining the navy blue maroon. He hunched with ragged breathing, his hands going to his injury.

"Killian!" Ceres yelled, standing up to rush to his side, only to be held back by some of the others, yelling she'll just get killed too and to think of her children. Ventus too was trying to get to the man he looked up to; Rini, for the first time, was starting to bawl.

Lamra gestured and her fellow warriors backed away from the dying man. She looked down at him but with no anger. Her face was calm and cold.

"We Gerudo honor strong warriors," she said to him. "You took ten of my warriors today. I've never seen a Hylian with no magic do as much on his own. You bring me honor that I shall claim your head. So I'll give you this, a last few words before I strike you down and end your suffering … Do you have anything to say?"

Killian bobbed his head weakly, trying to keep it raised, still gasping in pain and due to lack of breath. His blood stained his hands now and trickled onto his leggings. He lifted his head, and though Ceres could see his profile, he didn't look at her.

"Ceres." His voice was thick with his pain, but it grew louder so that she could hear him. "I always loved you."

It felt like her entire world went crashing down, shrinking and consumed by a terrible void at the same time that it shuddered with his shocking confession. While there weren't tears before—the adrenaline made it hard to concentrate on anything else besides attempting and failing to use her death magic—they started to fall now.

"K-Killian," she choked, trying to find the words to say.

"Hm," said Lamra, looking over at Ceres and her son's struggle. "So that's why you took Taina's hand … It seemed unnecessary."

She looked back down at him. Killian looked up at her, his eyes heavy and unfocused. She raised her sword, and it slashed through his neck, severing his head. Killian's body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. His head rolled to the ground but out of sight.

Ventus screamed out, swearing. Rini's sobbings grew louder, becoming a wail. Horrified gasps and crying resounded inside the barn for their fallen hero. Ceres let out a mournful cry, sagging in the arms that had once held her back. Now they had to hold her up.

The sound of a great many more feet was heard as a group of the Hylian warriors had finally come, but it was far too late. Lamra gestured and the remaining Gerudos stepped closer to the barn with torches. Then she reached down and picked up Killian's head by the hair of his scalp and stood, holding their strongest warrior's head in her grasp. Her bloodied sword in her other hand at her side.

There were startled gasps and shouts of rage from the approaching warriors.

"HALT!" shouted Lamra. "If you come closer, we will torch your precious family members and the like! We have covered this barn in oil. It will burn swiftly before you can save any of them!"

The warriors staggered to a stop. Indeed, the sides of the barn were wet and dark with the slick oil the Gerudo had splashed over it.

"However, you can let the killing end with his death today." She lifted Killian's head and showed it to them. "Surrender and let our army in. Lay down your arms and promise your crops to us. Your lives and theirs will be spared."

So that's what they meant … Ceres thought emptily, recalling the conversation they had earlier with Killian. If it had only been her, she would have grabbed the torch and burned down this barn out of spite—or better yet, the fields. They had taken Fae from her. They had taken Kubera. Now they took Killian. She didn't want any part of letting them get what they wanted.

Yet, Ventus clenching her shirt reminded her that she had two children to look after.

The other Hylian warriors seemed to have similar thoughts. Slowly, they all threw their weapons to their feet. With their families in the barn, what else could they do? Soon the village was flooded with the rest of the Gerudo army, as well as what had remained of the Hylian forces at the front gate.

The fighters of the village of Sakriven had been gathered, lined up in rows, directly facing the opening of the barn where all the non-combatants were still kept. A Gerudo on a horse rode over to them. By her black and gold armor and crimson uniform, she was obviously the leader of this army. She examined the warriors of the village for a moment before trotting over to Lamra, who was supporting Taina. They were still gathered near the barn, where Ceres could still numbly hear them speak.

They spoke of things like honor as if they knew the meaning of it. The tall Gerudo was raising Killian's head again as if it were a prize. It made her insides turn sickly. The leader seemed vaguely pleased with it. Their words fell dull and meaningless on her ears.

Soon this leader turned her horse and trotted back over to all the assembled Sakriven fighters. She halted for a moment, and then she raised one hand, a gesture to her warriors. The Hylian fighters were forced to their knees, and Gerudos began chopping off their heads. Outraged cries erupted from the villagers in the barn.

"You said our lives would be spared!"

"LYING BASTARDS!"

The Gerudo general turned on her horse, acknowledging this outburst.

"It brings me no honor to do it," she admitted. "Warriors should die in battle, not on their knees. However, it must be done. Would you really promise your crops to us with warriors still able to fight for you? In the end, it is their own weakness that has slain them for not sacrificing the weak. Had they not surrendered, they might have lived even if you all died. Be grateful for your lives and think on your promised harvest. We will return then."

She trotted away as her warriors continued with their slaughter. Lamra and Taina did not stay long either. Lamra finally let Killian's head rest on the ground near his body and helped her comrade leave.

The air was filled with nothing but the thick metallic smell of blood and the mournful cries of the remaining villagers as their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts were all beheaded right before their eyes. The Gerudos finally left them when all the fighters were dead. They left their bodies on the ground for the Hylians to bury.

Ceres made Ventus and Rini stay in the barn as she helped bury the dead. Ventus was looked after by someone who knew some medicine. She took special note of where they buried the bodies of the fallen, and she took Killian somewhere separate from the rest, taking the time to give him a funeral he properly deserved.

She still didn't know what to make about his admittance; with him gone, the empty ache was all she could feel. His blood and his head falling was all she could see. Occasionally her vision would blur as tears swam into her eyes as she lowered his body into the earth and covered it, her hands and limbs wavering with a slight tremor as she worked. They felt stiff and numb, as if frozen though it was only fall, not winter. Her throat was painful and tight though she wailed no longer.

Even back then, Kubera saying he loved her was unbelievable to her. It had seemed like something impossible. For the longest time, beyond Fae, nobody loved her. Nobody but Fae cared what her mother did to her until Kubera came along. To think Killian did as well was something she had never imagined. She had never noticed. Back then, she was shocked when he had rescued her from that household but now it made sense.

I'm sorry, Killian.

She wished—no, they should have had more time together. She would not let his sacrifice, his death be in vain. She didn't know how but the next time the Gerudo came, they would face death. She would do all she could to ensure that.