A/N: hi hello! welcome to a lil canon divergence idea i had that has grown into a monstrosity. it's gonna be quite the ride.

love you!

enjoy

oxy

*cross-posted from Ao3.*

~xXx~

YEAR OF THE REALM 860

The Night of the Flames

Archduke Elwin Rosfield, Joshua Rosfield, and Rodney Murdoch escaped from the destruction wrought upon Phoenix Gate by a mysterious second Eikon of Fire. Though his body was not recovered from the rubble, it is believed that Clive Rosfield, First Shield of Rosaria, perished in the fortress that night while defending his family from their would-be assassins.

~xXx~

Clive warily looked about the burning courtyard. The ache in his head persisted, though less potently than it had moments before.

The hooded man…where could he have gone? Had Clive simply imagined him? Unlikely, as he was not one to engage in flights of fancy with the circumstances so dire.

It mattered not – Clive needed to reunite with Lord Murdoch and return to his father and Joshua. He was about to turn and make for the gate when a small company of Shields pushed through the doors and came to a stop several meters away.

"Lord Marquess!" The company's lieutenant greeted, leading his men in a Rosarian salute.

Clive spared one more look at where the hooded man had stood before turning to the small group of Shields.

"Lieutenant?" Clive was confused. "What are you doing here? Did the Lord Commander not order you to rally at the rear gate?"

"That he did," the man replied, "and when we are through here, that is where we shall go."

A flash of white and red and something light was thrown to the ground – the corpse of the stolas the Archduke had sent in the direction of Rosalith.

Clive's fist clenched around the grip of his blade. There were more traitors among the men, as Lord Murdoch had suspected, and it seemed their plan was to make an attempt on Clive's life, next.

"You disgrace Rosaria with your treachery, Lieutenant; you and your cowardly troupe," Clive spat angrily over the lingering pain in his temples. He sank into a dueling stance. He was tired, and Murdoch had not returned yet, but Clive was confident he could dispense with these snakes on his own.

"Look alive, lads!" The lieutenant said with an ugly sneer to his jeering comrades, "We'll see for ourselves how much fire the First Shield truly has!"

The traitorous Shields encroached on Clive's position with their swords brandished.

Clive readied his blade for battle, the Blessing of the Phoenix flaring bright in his chest and—

pain, bright and bursting inside his skull, skittering down his temples and jaw

—his sword clattered to the ground.

Clive thought he might vomit for the agony. He tried to muscle through it but it lashed back at him anew. With shaking hands grasping at the sides of his head, Clive cried out and fell to his knees.

The traitors approached less warily with their target besieged by an invisible hurt. Clive was instantly struck with the realization that he may perish. He may die to one of their swords, or he may die to whatever ailment had grasped him.

But then – who would protect Joshua?

Clive could not fall here – would not fall here. He refused. The traitors would find his father, find Joshua – they would kill them.

You're a Shield, Clive tried to reason, tried to fight against the pain, the lieutenant was coing closer with his broadsword raised, do your duty!

"Save them!" Clive rasped out nigh soundlessly with what little breath he could gather.

The lieutenant held his blade loftily over his head to deliver a killing blow.

The lieutenant's strike never landed.

Fire licked through Clive's veins from his toes to the crown of his head, smothering the agony with seething flames. There was a great blazing rush outward, though to what end Clive could not fathom.

Burning darkness swallowed the air.

~XxX~

"Take your steed," Rodney had insisted, and then had left to ensure there was a clear path upon which that chocobo could travel. He had intended to return to Clive with all haste.

He never should have left Clive on his own. He shouldn't have left at all. Clive had been exhausted from pulling most of the weight in the fight with the dragoon, and Rodney leaving him made Clive an easy target.

They knew that there were traitors in the ranks – Rodney had pointed it out himself when he found the bloodstained sash.

Why. Why? Why had he left? Why did he ignore the small voice that begged the utmost caution? Why?

Rodney stumbled – over the cold corpse of one of his countrymen, just left there like so much garbage by those Imperial rats – and caught himself against the cold stone of the hallway wall. No time. He had no time. He took off running again for the rear gate.

The traitors had found Clive, and if they had found Clive, then they may have found Elwin. They may have found Joshua. And both of them were unaware of the turncoats and accompanied by only Sirs Wade and Tyler, one of whom was injured.

The Lord Commander's first duty was to the Archduke, his second duty to the ducal heir. Aiding Clive would waste time that Rodney may not have.

But whenever he blinked, he saw again that terrible sight of Clive surrounded by traitors in a burning courtyard with only a single blade to defend himself. He saw himself handing the lad his first sparring sword in the bailey far, far too young. Rodney thought the guilt may devour him. He had abandoned his student when he needed him most, and every further step he took had him questioning whether he did the right thing.

Please let him survive, Rodney prayed as he raced through the corridors, else I know not what I might do. Forgive me.

He pressed on through the burning fortress to the rear gate, where Elwin and Joshua Rosfield were meant to be waiting. Perfect dread seeped through his stomach at the thought of the questions they would ask regarding the whereabouts of their son and brother.

~XxX~

Elwin's Lord Commander burst into the courtyard with speech already at his lips.

"We must leave now, Your Grace!" Rodney cried urgently, "As fast as we can!" His armor was covered in blood and gore, his sword dripped a macabre red at his hip, and he breathed harshly, but Rodney appeared unhurt. "There are traitors among the Shields!"

"Traitors?" Elwin exclaimed in alarm. Not only had the Empire reneged on their alliance, but Elwin's own men? Who would dare…?

Traitors…

Elwin was glad that his friend was unharmed, but where was Elwin's son?

Disturbed, Elwin asked, "What of Clive?"

Rodney opened his mouth to reply when—

A great, terrible shuddering, a flare of heat, and a blinding light as though the night itself were set ablaze.

Elwin clasped Joshua close to him, whirling to put the threat behind himself for all that he could. He heard something nearby crumble from some unseen might. When the searing light and warmth faded, the men were stunned by what they saw.

The rubble of a turret had effectively cut the courtyard in half, separating the archduke, Joshua, and the Lord Commander from Wade and Tyler.

Elwin heard Sir Wade shouting from the other side of the stone, asking after the safety of their commander, sovereign, and prince. The Shields were trapped, and the only way back into the fortress was blocked.

Would that Elwin could answer Sir Wade's worries, but the horror he found before his eyes stole the breath from his lungs.

Over the tops of the parapets of the ancient fortress, a pair of horns rose, wreathed in flame. Elwin could see nothing else of the infernal figure, but the horns were certainly enough. What kind of creature…?

"What devilry is this?" Elwin whispered in awe, his eyes wide. It could not be a second Eikon of Fire, for that was impossible. A demon? Some trick of sorcery? "What manner of magic—?"

"Your Grace!" Rodney's insistence broke Elwin's concentration. "Now!" He urged with a gesture to the chocobos.

"Father, what is that?" Joshua pointed a pale, shaking finger at the massive horns overtop the fortress wall.

Rodney seized Elwin's arm and started pulling him towards the mounts. The Archduke stumbled but managed to drag Joshua behind himself.

What of Clive? Where was he? Elwin needed to—

The horned creature roared. The earth quaked. Thundering footsteps.

—Leave. Now. They needed to leave.

Elwin swung himself up into the saddle and Rodney scooped Joshua off the ground to pass to him. As soon as Joshua was atop the massive bird with him, Elwin spurred her into motion. The three of them tore through the rear gate at a sprint. The Lord Commander caught up soon after, one hand on the reigns of his steed and the other grasping a torch.

They would simply have to hope that Sirs Wade and Tyler could escape on their own, trapped though the Shields were near a terrible demon. They were out of time.

"Wait!" Joshua cried. "We can't leave without Clive!"

And Elwin cast his gaze across to Rodney. Rodney's face was haunted. Mournful. He shook his head once.

Elwin's jaw clenched. His eyes stung.

No.

Not Clive. Not noble, honorable Clive. Only fifteen years…This was Elwin's fault.

"You'll look after him, won't you?"

"Even if it costs me my life."

This was not supposed to happen.

"Father?" Joshua asked desperately, his voice watery and tight, and it was horrible, so horrible, "Father, where's Clive?"

Any words which rose from his throat in answer dissolved into poisonous ash before they could cross his lips.

The Archduke remained silent, his arm tightening around Joshua and his thighs squeezing to urge the chocobo faster. The bird's talons dug into the soft earth and hurled them forward ever quicker into night's dark embrace. Wind whipped past the party as they rode, stealing the warmth from Elwin's face and hands.

Terrible roaring issued forth from the burning fortress. Ancient stone cracked and crumbled while the creature raged. Elwin could almost feel the heat of the fires even from so far away. When he craned his neck to steal a glance back at Phoenix Gate, he saw only flames raking into the night sky and acrid smoke curling up to strangle the stars.

Any soul, be they friend or foe, who still remained in the fortress had become a sacrifice for whatever hellish beast had been summoned there. Bile rose in Elwin's throat. His firstborn consumed by fire, felled by a blade, or trapped in a collapsed castle…Founder, help him…

"Father!" Joshua cried. When Elwin failed to answer, the boy turned to the Lord Commander. "Lord Murdoch?"

The devastation on Rodney's face was plain even in the weak light of the torch, and his shoulders shook with every breath he drew. Horror crept into Joshua's voice.

"Where is he!?" Joshua gasped and then coughed until he gagged, but still he howled, "Where is my brother!?"

Elwin bowed his head and held his son close even as he thrashed.

"Clive!"

They rode hard for Rosalith.