Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Berserk: An Ending

“Can you take that off?” Casca asks, gesturing at Guts’ armor. “I’ll be right back.”

She’s out of the room before Guts can say anything in response.[3]

As the door swings closed, she almost freezes completely, her heart racing desperately, eyes wide, as she contemplates the idea of…

Then she turns and walks down the hall.

Down the stairs.

To the room where the rest of their friends are.

Schierke’s already almost finished making everyone some herbal concoction. Casca goes straight to her.

“Can I get some of that for me and Guts?”

The young witch hesitates a moment, then ladles liquid into two mugs, without commenting—or meeting Casca’s eyes.

Casca picks up the mugs and turns around, and as she looks at the room she realizes…

Not a single one of them knows how to act around her now.

She…she can’t remember clearly what happened earlier, when Griffith was here. But…even with them just knowing that the boy was their son, that the boy and her son and Griffith were somehow the same…that Griffith, her, and Guts have some connection…

The way they look at her…

She sees Isma, Isidro, and Serpico standing in the corner of the room, speaking quietly. Trading looks. Trying to hide their whispers. Their eyes move deliberately away…then back towards her…

She can’t get out of the room fast enough.

She can’t explain what was happening earlier, and…and just the thought of being asked…

Her heart races in fear.

She needs to be…to be back where it’s quiet. Where Guts…

As she reaches the foot of the stairs, Farnesse catches her. A hand falling on her shoulder that she barely avoids flinching away from.

She looks up at the other woman, and meets eyes full of concern.

“Casca,” Farnesse says, “are you sure…you’re ready?”

Casca, looking into those familiar eyes, hesitates.

She thinks of the whispers behind her. Of the quiet upstairs.

“Yes,” she says, voice firm.

When Casca gets back into the room, Guts has taken off the armor. He’s wearing an old pair of pants and a worn, sleeveless black shirt[4] that she almost recognizes. The black metal is a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed, just to the right of where he’s sitting.

When she comes in, he’s halfway through standing up as if to leave.

Casca pretends not to notice. Pretends to focus on keeping the mugs from spilling as she kicks the door closed, giving him room to…

But when she looks up, he’s still hovering over the bed, looking at her uncertainly.

“This,” she says, “will help with the healing,” she nods towards the mugs. She walks to the edge of the room, putting the mugs on the bedside table—out of his reach. “Still too hot to drink, though,” she says. “It’ll be a few minutes.”

Behind her…she hears him sit.

Casca closes her eyes, briefly, with relief, with…

Then she sits down to his left.

Neither of them speaks for long minutes. The steam from the mugs begins to thin.

Their legs, beside each other on the bed, do not touch.

Finally, Casca says, her voice flat, “We had a son.”

Guts looks down at his hands, one real, one metal, resting in his lap.

“…yeah.”

“I can’t believe I forgot I had…” Casca impatiently rubs her hand over her face, brushes a tear from her cheek.

She takes a deep breath. “He…our son, he…”

“He’s alive, Cas,” says Guts harshly, “so there’s hope.”

Casca feels her body bending forward, her hands clutching her elbows.

“But…he’s…he’s in--,” she whispers hoarsely.

“I’ll get ‘im back,” says Guts, his eye full of fire.

Casca’s eye is caught by his clenching fist.

“I’ll…” Guts’ teeth grind, “I’ll rip ‘im out if I have to.”

Casca bows her head.

“I,” he says, voice hoarse, “I swear, Cas, I’ll…”

Casca’s head jerks upwards suddenly.

“What do you mean ‘I’?”

Guts doesn’t look at her as she turns her head, her eyes falling on him. On what she can see of his face, his eye half-lidded. His metal arm.

“You’re…” he swallows, “you’re safe here, Cas.” He shakes his head. “An’ it’ll never be safe, out there, with the brand. You can stay here, with Farnesse and the others, an’ I’ll—”

“Leave again?”

There’s silence after she speaks.

He doesn’t look at her.

“Leave me?” Casca almost chokes on the second word.

Guts gazes at his mismatched hands.

“It’s…it’s not safe with me, Cas,” he says, finally.

He clenches his shaking fist.

“I…I only hurt you,”[5] he breathes.

His body goes limp, his hand loosening completely, his spine bowing forward slightly, his eye closed.

“I…I’m sorry Casca,” Guts says. “I’m…so…”

He falls silent.

There’s nothing he can say that will change…

The silence grows. She doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move.

There’s nothing for him to do but wait…until…

“You…” she finally says.

He hears a strange sound from her, like a catch in her throat…

And then she’s in front of him, her left fist hurtling forward, slamming into his jaw, knocking him down against the bed.

He doesn’t flinch away or try to dodge her.

He just sits back up, eye still downcast.

He knows he should look at her, face the betrayal in her eyes, but…

“You stupid fool,” he hears her growl, and she catches him with a fist that comes in from the left this time, so he sees it approach—but of course, does nothing.

He just lets her hurt him.

It’s what I…it’s all I…

“Why didn’t you just kill me?” she hisses at him.

Guts’ eye rises to her face in shock, and he instinctively catches her left hand as she tries to hit him again.

She doesn’t pull away from him when he touches her.

In her eyes, he sees tears welling up, flooding out…her face contorted in…

She’s truly furious, at him, because…

She’s serious, he realizes.

His mouth opens—but he can’t think what to say. He just stares at her, baffled, for long moments until…

She collapses to her knees in front of him. Her hands clench on his calves, her forehead pressing against him.

“You’re such a fool,”[6] she repeats, and he feels her shaking.

“I…I remember everything,” she gasps out.

“Watching every…every day, every night, just watching…watching you…”

“...bleed, and watching you fight, and watching you…hurt and…and suffer…and…I couldn’t…”

Her grip becomes so tight it's almost painful...

“...I couldn’t reach you, I couldn’t help you, and you just…just…” Casca’s shaking with the force of her sobs, “You just wouldn’t let me go—why wouldn’t you just let me go?!”

She looks up at him, her tearful eyes intent as if it’s a serious question…

His mouth opens, though he has no idea what to say…but she’s shaking her head already before he can speak.

“You should have killed me, before I killed you,” she bites out, “That’s what I wanted, you fool!”

He has a sudden, forceful memory of the look in Casca’s eyes on that terrible day, as she’d leveled her sword at him…a look he’d recognized, a look he hadn’t seen since…since before…[7]

Her head bends, her face hidden from him.

“You,” she mumbles, “you could have…you could have done whatever…” he feels her shudder, “it’s not like I’d have cared once I was dead, you should have,” her fingers dig into his legs, “Why didn’t you just do it, why didn’t you…”

“You should have…”

Guts’ knees hit the floor.

And she’s in his arms and he’s holding her so close, so tight, just as he’d longed to for so long…she’s so warm…

And her body is against him, her head on his neck, and he holds her…

And every time she mutters “you should have…”

He cuts her off and whispers, “no, I shouldn’t.”[8]

---------

Eventually she stops telling him that he should have killed her.

Her crying slows, and she presses close to him.

He feels her heartbeat starting to ease.

Then he turns his head and whispers into her ear, “Casca. If you weren’ still here, I’d be…nothin’ but what you saw that day,” Guts shudders, ever so slightly. “Nothin’ but another monster.”

Casca looks up, slowly, as he falls silent. Her face is so close to his, and a few tears still…

He finds his hand is against her cheek, his thumb brushing away her tears.

“You,” Guts says, voice wavering, “are the only reason I’m still…me. The reason I can still…”

His voice trails off.

Her gaze hasn’t left his face.

Whatever it is she sees there…

Some of the sorrow clears from her eyes as she looks at him. Not a lot. Just enough to….

Casca lowers her head to his chest, and he just holds her. With tenderness.[9]

They stay that way for a long time. He’d stay that way forever, if he could.

Finally, Guts feels Casca turn her head to his left. Her fingers touch the place where the metal bands wrap around his flesh, securing his prosthetic.

“How,” she asks, “does this thing come off?”

Guts starts to lean back, move his right hand to unfasten the leather and metal—[10]

But then he hesitates. Because Casca’s in the way, and even when he nudges her, very gently, she shows no sign of moving so he can reach the prosthetic himself.

So he leans back a little, and talks her through undoing each strap. Her fingers dart and fly over the metal, he can see in the corner of his eye, until the prosthetic is loose, until it pulls away from the stump of his left arm.

Casca sets it on the floor. Then her hands reach back up, and she carefully unwinds his bandages until what remains of his left arm is bare to her.

For a few moments, she gently runs her fingertips along the flat skin that ends the limb now.

Guts can’t think of what to say. From what she’d said before…Do you remember…If you don’t, I…[11]

Casca jerks up and away from him.

“Guts, why is your arm trembling?”

Gut blinks, then realizes the stump is shaking after the weight of the iron arm was removed. He’s gotten so used to that tremble after lifting something when he isn’t wearing the armor, it hadn’t occurred to him…

He pulls away from her. “That? That’s nothin'. I’m just a bit—”

But Casca’s grabbing his right arm and pulling his hand level, palm to palm, with her own, and before he can pull it back he knows she’s felt it.

Guts looks away from her.

“The armor?” Casca finally asks him.

Guts nods, briefly. “It…takes a toll.”

“What kind of toll?” Her voice is deep and very slightly…broken.

Guts hesitates.

She grabs his chin and pulls him to look at her. Her eyes are wide and urgent.

“Guts, what kind of toll?”

“…Sensation,” he finally answers.[12]

She’s staring at him. He can’t quite meet her eye.

“Taste,” he admits, “smell, feeling…sight. It fades, after I use the armor. An’ well, I’ve had to use it a lot, so—”

“Stop.”

He looks at her again.

Realizes she’s shaking against him. And there are tears in her eyes…because of—

“Stop using it,” she hisses fiercely.

“I can’t,” he says. Casca opens her mouth, but he shakes his head and talks over her, “I can’ fight without it. I did try,” he almost laughs when he realizes it was just a few hours ago, “jus’ today I tried doin’ what I have to do without wearin’ it. I couldn’t hold my sword, throw a knife…I need it, at least for now. Because I have to keep fightin’, soon—"

Casca is shaking her head, but he doesn’t back down.

Instead, he gives her a flippant grin, and half-jokingly says, “Hackin’ at foes is what I’m for after all—all I’m good for, really, so—”

Her slap is completely unexpected.

Guts stares at her, his left cheek smarting. Her chest is heaving, her eyes are wide and furious.

Then she collapses against him again, her forehead pressing to his neck, her face against his chest.

“That…not true” she chokes out.[13]

Guts slowly reaches his hand up, strokes her hair very, very gently.

“Cas, I…I’m so glad I could protect you all this time, Cas, I didn’ mean—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, fool,” she snaps, one of her fists hammering him.

Then she presses her left cheek to his chest, and she says…

“I was so far way, like…like I was under the surface of darkened water. I…I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, I…I probably would have just faded, drifted there forever, except—”

“Except that—”

“Even deeper inside me…”

“I…I still remembered…”

Casca leans back to look at him.

Her trembling fingertips touch his stunned face.

“There was someone,” she says softly, “I wanted to see.”[14][15]

Guts can barely breathe, his heart is racing, not daring to…

Casca leans forward.

And her lips brush his.

He’s moving toward her almost instinctively, his mouth opening just a little…

He feels her tongue flicker over his…

Then she pulls back a little.

“Can you still taste that?” she asks, her forehead leaning against his.

“Y...yeah,” he breathes into the air between them.

He feels Casca’s right hand run over his left arm…

His hand hasn’t moved from her hair.

He realizes he’s frozen, barely breathing, afraid to shatter what reality has somehow become.

“Can you still,” Casca’s fingertips gently brush along the skin of his upper arm, “feel this?”

“Y—” Guts swallows, “yes.”

She moves abruptly forward, her legs spreading, her body sliding forward, towards him. Her knees bump the floor to either side of his hips, and she’s so desperately close to him…

His eye closes, his hand falls from her head, brushes her back until he finds the base of her spine, where his hand rests as her hands rise to cradle his face…

“Can you,” Casca says, and then pushes the core of her body against him, and he gasps, and as her breath pulls in sharply she whispers, “can you feel that?”

“In—in my soul,” he groans, and his eye opens, her face is all he can see and…

And her whole body is pressing flush against him, she’s so warm and soft and close and…

And he slides his hand around and up her torso until he finally, finally cups her breast, and when his fingers fold around her there her face softens, she opens her mouth a little and moans, and he catches the sound with his own mouth, kisses her deeply, and…

Guts pulls away from her.

He falls back against the side of the bed behind them, his heart beating wildly and sweat pouring down his face as memory forces its way in.

Casca blinks at him, holding frozen in place as her eyes focus. She looks…confused…and a little…

“You…” she bites her lip, “you don’t want to…”

Guts cups her cheek in his hand.

“Jus’ not—not tonight, not when…when,” he swallows, “when it wasn’ long since…since he was here…”

And Guts knows an instant later that he’s made the right choice. That he was right about what Casca has and hasn’t found a way to remember. 

Some things, he thinks, no one can run from...no matter how badly…

Casca is pulling back, away from him.

You want to, he thinks, you can’ run away from memory.[16]

And he’s sure because as she pulls away, Casca’s face transforms entirely. She hits the floor hard, and then she hugs herself with a white-knuckled grip, shaking uncontrollably, sweat pouring down her face…

Should I get Farnesse?  Guts wonders, as he stares at her in fear.

Would…would she really know…?

“Casca?”

Her head tilts up. He keeps his distance. She…her eyes, she can’t…

And then her eyes focus on a place near his face.

Not looking away from her, Guts carefully moves to extend his legs, so his body falls lower and he’s nearer her eye level.

She doesn’t change her posture or expression, or seem to notice his legs as he stretches them out by her right side…

Guts leans forward very, very slowly, and extends his hand.

Can…can you even see…

And, also slowly, Casca’s left hand releases its deathgrip on her own body. Extends. Moves toward…

Guts hesitates…then he raises his hand so the palm faces her.

She doesn’t slow…no, her movement becomes very slightly faster.

Her fingers touch his.

Then press.

And, as he relaxes his hand, makes space…her fingers fall between his.[17]

Guts swallows hard.

As cautiously as he would with a wild animal, he slowly draws her closer to him. She edges forward, bit by bit…

Her head bows, but she keeps leaning forward…

Her hair brushes his chest…

He can just hear her shallow breath…

She hasn’t let go of his hand.

So he leans his head forward…

He wants to wrap her in two arms and tighten his grip and never, ever let her go, he wants to make…make all of it go instead, he wants to so very desperately…

But he knows better.

Instead, he gently squeezes her hand.

“Casca,” Guts says, each syllable carefully pronounced, “you’re…”

He shudders, but only a little.

“You’re safe, Casca,” he murmurs, her hair moving ever so slightly in the air from his breath, “you’re safe…”

He feels…her body shakes…

It’s like something in her cracks…

And suddenly, she’s sobbing. Sobbing deep, gasping sobs like she’s been a long way underwater.

She clutches at him, her hand leaving his so she can grasp his shoulder and pull close to him, her nails digging into him as she whispers:

“Couldn’t…couldn’t stop him, he wouldn’t stop…Guts, why…why wouldn’t he stop…”[18]

She falls into his lap and he holds her as tightly as he dares, and his knees rise and his legs come up to barricade her safely against his body, as he hears…as she gasps the words, again and again between sobs, the same words…and as he whispers, again and again, his heart broken open:

“I know. I know.”

It’s a long time before Casca’s breathing finally eases. Evens out.

Before she stops shaking and shuddering in what's left of Guts’ arms.

Until she just curls against him, exhausted by pain. And he just holds her.

Finally, she stirs and looks at him.

She moves slightly so her legs strength out to his left, adjusting so that she can tilt her head back a little. Look at his face.

Her right hand reaches up. Her thumb touches the tears on his cheek.

She draws his head down, presses his forehead to hers.

She closes her eyes and he watches her, and they sit like that. Pain and breath intermingling.

At last, Casca whispers, “How…how could he hate us that much?”

Guts doesn’t have an answer.

“After…after everything I…” She sniffs, her eyes still closed. “I was going to…before, that’s what I was doing when I told you to go. I was…he wanted me to…”[19]

“I know” says Guts quietly.

She shakes her head. “I thought…” her eyes open, and her gaze meets what remains of his.

“Do you think he always hated us?”

Guts looks down.

“He…he can’t have, or…” his eye closes, “or he wouldn’ have been able to brand us,” he says tightly.[20]

Casca bends forward, pressing her head to his chest, her left hand touching the brand at her own breast.

“How could he do this to us?” she whispers.

“I…” Guts swallows, “I dunno, Cas.”

He leans his face forward against her hair. “I just dunno.”

There’s a long silence.

Then Guts’ eye opens. His head tilts up as he looks far, far away, his right arm clenching around Casca’s shoulders, pulling her body towards him protectively.

“Someday I’ll kill him,” he says, his voice like a beast’s growl. “Someday I’ll kill him for it, I swear Cas.”

She doesn’t look up.

“Our son…” she says quietly.

The tension deserts him.

He buries his face in her hair and mutters, “There has to be a way to get him, to cleave ‘em apart, he…that kid…”

He feels her starting to shudder again.

He squeezes her shoulders.

“That kid survived, Cas,” Guts says to her fiercely. “He…he wouldn’t have kept strugglin’ an’ strugglin’ just to…if we can have managed to survive all that, then he can—”

“Judeau said something like that to me,” Casca says quietly.

Guts freezes.

Her eyes are wide, her forehead pressed to his chest as she looks down.

“After Pippin died to save me. Judeau made me run away, and he…he said something like that, like what you just said, and he…” she half-laughs, half-sobs, “he said it was what you’d say…”

Guts’ eye is wide. And he can feel himself, very slightly, shaking.

Casca’s right hand tightens into a fist, pulling at Guts’ shirt.

“And then he…he made it so the…the apostle’s blades went through him instead of me, went…went all the way through him, and he…but I…” She’s shaking, “but I made him keep going, I pulled him along with me, and then…and then he…Judeau…he was just…”

Guts feels the tension run through her body, and her shaking stops. She holds completely still.

“And then I was alone, I was all alone, all…and they, they found me, they found me and they—”[21]

“Look at me, Cas,” Guts says urgently, pulling her up so he can see her face. “Look at me, you’re—”

She reaches out and grabs his face with both hands.

“They,” she gasps, her eyes wide and haunted, “They—”

“Cas, I know.” Guts’ voice breaks as he says it—but he keeps going, moving his arm around hers and cupping her face with his hand, “You don’ need to tell me, Cas, I—”

He sees something flicker in her eyes, some awareness, as she focuses on…

He pulls her against him again, his arm around her shoulder, his chin on her forehead.

“You don’ have to tell...to tell me anythin’, Cas” he repeats, voice husky…and he feels her breath stop hitching. “I know,” he repeats, his eye closing, “I know.”

They hold still for a few moments. He feels her breathing slow--not to normal, but no longer panicking.

She pulls back so she can look up at him.

When he meets her gaze, he sees her pain, but, also…

“You do,” she whispers, and she sounds almost…relieved, “don’t you?”

“I…” Guts shudders. “I see it every time I…every time I remember…I…it’s like I’m seein’ you again..."

"...every time I think of…there’s you, so…so…”

He shakes his head, looking down, away from her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice full of pain,” I…I couldn’t reach you…I…”

It’s strange—as Casca looks at him, his face contorted with memory, she feels…her own pain, it’s like…like it’s no longer quite as…

“I,” Guts chokes, “I was tryin’ to help him,” Guts’ eye is wide and haunted. “I…I stayed up there, even after he said the words an’ sacrificed us all, even after he…I was tryin’ to help him, while you all…and by the time I…”

He shudders, remembering a shining sphere of faces. A pool of blood…

“By the time I finally,” he’s speaking in a rush now, “finally got down there, everyone was…one of ‘em ate Gaston from the inside of his head out in front of me, right in front of me, and…and Pippin, and Corkus…they, they were already…an’ their bodies, they…”

Guts is hunching over now, “everyone else was…what they had done to everyone, and…and you were…”[22]

She feels his fingers convulse on her shoulder, gripping tight, almost painful.

“I couldn’t, couldn’t get to you…” he rasps, “I couldn’t…"

"...and then, then he…” Guts shudders, “he was there, an'’'…”

Tears are starting to run down his face again, “an’ when I saw him, I thought for a moment[23]…then…but then, he…you, you were there, an’ he…”

Guts is shaking uncontrollably now, teeth chattering, eye wide. “I’m so sorry, Casca, I’m so sorry, he did it because of—”

Casca reaches out and pulls him roughly against her, his head under her neck, her arms wrapped tight around him.

“I chose you,” she chokes out, “I did.”[24]

He shudders, once more, convulsive…then feels his body grow limp.

He feels her hands in his hair. Stroking him…

This can’t be real, he thinks…

“I couldn’ reach you,” he whispers again, his face against her warm skin.

“No matter what I did…” the remainder of his left arm twitches, “I couldn’…”[25]

Her hands tighten in his hair, and he feels her press against him.

“You can reach me now.”

He’s glad she can’t see his face.

Slowly, he bends forward.

And, gently, he puts his arms around her, as much as he can.

---------

[1] It’s a very common mistake that Zodd would have brought Griffith to the island. He wouldn’t.

The first time to boy appeared in V28 E238, it made sense that Zodd had brought him. The gang didn’t know it, but Griffith’s army was quite close. The next day, Guts and gang walked to Vrittanis. On the same day, Sonia and Mule were able to walk from Vrittanis to the army’s encampment, arriving in V29 E250. Flying to Guts and gang from back: completely reasonable for Zodd.

The second time, on the Sea God island, Zodd did not bring the boy. We see how the boy got there in V37 E328. He used his astral form on the world tree and travelled through the branches.

This is definitely how he got to Skellig the final time. The boy was able to travel by the world tree, and we actually see Griffith disappear right in front of the world tree. Elfhelm is in the middle of the ocean at an unknown location. Getting there took weeks or months by ship. There’s no way Zodd got there in less than a night to drop the kid off, which is what it’s been on the outside, as Danaan explains in V41 E364: a single night was passing off the island while a day and two nights passed on it. The time skip is “vague,” not one way, so Zodd getting to the island wouldn’t work out logistically.

[2] Note that Guts and Casca are going to be spending a lot of time together, so for visualization purposes the way I imagined it while writing was that Guts was about the size he was, compared to Casca, during the Conviction arc. 

(For those like me who didn’t notice until it was pointed out to them, by 2018 when the Berserk Guidebook was published Guts is being drawn as like 3 feet taller and 4 times the size of Casca, having gotten steadily larger throughout the series.)

[3] “are about to have a conversation for the first time in more than 20 years…”

and she immediately leaves!!!!!

Yeah this I’m going to call a tribute to Miura. “Oh look, the plot’s about to advance…just kidding!” 

[4] As last seen in V38 E342

[5] Quoting from V24 E199

[6] “You’re such a fool” is from V9 E45

[7] This is referring to the events of V23 E187-190

[8] So, think back to the winter’s journey and imagine you’re Casca.

Now, Casca in the Golden Age has an established pattern of behavior when Guts is fighting to protect her (and others). She resists the fact that often the fights are just too big for her (100 man and Wyald). She resists that to the point of being irrational, trying to stay when she frankly should have left, at one point drawing a sword on goddamn Wyald, which is insane.

When she can’t stick with Guts and watch his back, she patches him up afterwards. These are some of their most emotionally revelatory and intimate moments together, in V7 E22, V19 E56, and V11 66-67.

So, imagine that you’re Casca, trapped under the water on the winter’s journey. Every single day, you watch Guts put himself in danger for you. In fact, you watch yourself put him in more danger through lack of understanding. Then you watch him take care of you, literally sacrificing his own food and clothing for you, while you just take everything you can get and ignore him. You watch him hurt, but you can’t touch him or help him. You can’t fight beside him, you’re completely useless and passive--But at least it’s stable.

Then it gets worse. Then, instead of watching yourself tolerate Guts and accept the huge amount that he giving you, you watch yourself hurt him. Not physically, but emotionally. And you know, just like you did at the Eclipse, that because of how much he loves you and once trusted you, when the emotional pain is associated with you, it’s enough to break him. You know exactly how terribly you’re hurting him, exactly what you’re doing to him. And there's nothing at all you can do.

At the same time you’re also watching him tear himself apart for you physically. Knowing he might die at any moment, right in front of you, and all you’ll have given him for it is pain. You’re walking around and deep, deep down there, knowing, “I’m going to watch Guts die, any second, pointlessly trying to defend this pile of shards that used to be me.”

And then each time, you watch him survive, and come back to you. And he sits down, and Puck fixes up his wounds, and you glare at him. And then it’s raining so he takes off his goddamn cloak and puts it on you instead.

And it’s worth noting that, while readers get an unspeakably horrific impression through Guts’ POV of what might have happened in V23 E190—that rape did not happen. The violence was almost entirely in Guts’ imagination. Casca’s legs are actually closed the whole time. Don't get me wrong: what Guts did was not in any way acceptable, it’s not all right, but still, it was not what Guts felt like it was. 

So, strictly from Casca’s perspective: in V23 E190, Guts began to hurt her, which was what she thought she deserved, by trying to tear her apart with his teeth (which, worth noting, is the act of a freaking crazy person)—but he didn't even come close to actually killing her.

All of this results in the painful sight we see in V39 E348. The hound, broken, bleeding, alone, in pain, and still fighting—and fighting much harder for the sake of a coffin than for his own sake.

And inside the coffin is the shell that’s left of you, and also the super-sheltered, innocent version of yourself that is still able to interact with the outside world. A tiny fragment of who you once were. Cute. Basically nothing compared to what you once were, and what the hound still is.

What I’m interpreting and using in my story is that, when Casca had that flashback to the Eclipse in E189, on her return to consciousness she was more our Casca than at any other point since V13. 

There are a few reasons for this (note that we’ll probably never know if I’m “right” about something this long ago and whether it’s what Miura intended, so I’m calling that a moot point).

One reason is that Elaine’s behavior here is fundamentally inconsistent in two ways. Elaine is not very good at using tools. She manages to feed herself sometimes, uses her teeth a few times, and at one point she goes for a knife on the winter’s journey. But going for the knife doesn’t read as aggressive, more like an extension of the teeth.

In E189, Elaine/Casca starts as being pinned to the ground, naked, hands doubly restrained (tangled in her dress and held down by one of the assholes), to holding a sword and being surrounded by three corpses.

That is one hell of a fucking change, and it happens in a short period of time. This is a situation that would have been difficult for normal-Casca to extract herself from, as seen in V7 E20.

And then there’s Elaine’s response to danger. Elaine’s responses to danger are either to be oblivious or to run away. The only exception is when she’s cornered or her son is involved—at that point she will become more aggressive, but only right up until she can run away.

In E189, instead of running away, she thinks about whether or not to run at Guts, then attacks him.

Guts himself thinks that this is insane, with a “no way” thought bubble in E189.

Guts is right: it doesn’t make sense for Elaine to do this. It doesn’t make sense for her to have pulled herself together enough to attack these men (we see her cornered and threatened, having flashbacks and terrified, many other times without something like this happening), and it very, very much doesn’t make any sense for her to then attack Guts instead of dropping the sword and running away.

But Casca is, when Guts is involved, dumb enough to do something desperate like that (see her actions in V11 E63-64). She has a self-destructive streak we see in V9 E45 and again in V40 E354. And, as we learn in E355, she was “beneath the surface of darkened water”—not the same thing as being unaware of what was happening outside.

Tl;dr: for the purposes of this scene, in 189 Casca clawed her way to the surface of the water to try to get Guts to kill her, so that he wouldn’t die himself trying to protect her. 

[9] “with tenderness” is a reference to V23 E189

[10] Casca, note, shows absolutely no interest, from the moment they are reunited, in that which Guts has built up around himself in order to continue as he once was.

[11] reference to events in V41 E364

[12] This references Skull Knight in V28 E237 and Guts’ experiences in other episodes, most recently V41 E364.

[13] I’m going to reference Wounds 1 and 2 A LOT in the coming pages…but this, this is a reference to V9 E44’s final page.

[14] Casca is quoting her inner monologue from V40 E355.

[15] There’s a common theory that this line refers to the boy, not Guts. Here’s why it’s wrong:

1) The mini-Casca inside her memories doesn't say this until *after* her memories of Guts and her wider life have returned--and *before* her memories of her post-Eclipse life are there. That means her consciousness there is effectively pre-Eclipse, and therefore does not include her son. That this line is repeated after Casca has transitioned away from being, “Elaine,” to being self-consciously, “Casca,” confirms that it’s her speaking for the first time, not the mini-remnant of her.

2) When the line returns, Guts is on the page. On the previous page, the only person whose face Casca didn't actually remember seeing post-Eclipse is Guts. She actually remembers seeing the kid, so thinking, “I want to see him,” about a kid who she was just thinking of making direct and intense eye contact with doesn’t track. In a way, as Elaine, the only person she could see was the boy—so why would that be an unresolved thought if Casca had repeatedly and recently seen the person in question?

3) She reflects that this is the only thought she had while she was in her checked-out state. Her son was born *after* her checked-out state began. Timeline doesn't add up.

4) This line, and the idea that that connection to Guts is what she’s hanging on to, is the final point in a set of parallels around the big 3 characters of Casca, Guts, and Griffith. Griffith in the dungeon thinks that the only thing keeping his trauma from consuming his mind entirely is his connection to Guts. When Guts goes into the armor for the first time and his trauma is overwhelming him, all he remembers is Griffith’s name, not his own—until he sees Casca, and remembers her, and through her remembers himself. The last piece here is that Casca only survived and was able to emerge from her trauma at all (her only thought in the darkness, just like Griffith) because of her bond to Guts.

5) The Eclipse, everything Casca is afraid to see and remember, is symbolized in her dreamscape by her son. Her unconscious mind puts up a huge fight *against* 'seeing' her son, so it doesn't make sense that the one thought that was keeping her going in these years was that she *wanted* to see her son.

6) This theory that the line is about her son is predicated on the idea that Miura was actively misleading readers about the only new piece of Casca’s character he introduced after she woke up. Miura often withheld information, but actively misleading on this level would have been something different.

All three times, the line specifically refers to Guts. The first time, the panel cuts to an image of dog Guts. The second time, the line is on the page with him. The third time, again, the line is framed on the page as referring very specifically to him, and to Casca’s problem that she literally, “can’t see him.” Plus, she actually saw the boy again in 364, to absolutely no trumpets, surprise, or even particularly intense emotional reaction, so that’d be a baffling conclusion to, again, the only new character element she has since she woke up. 

[16] I wasn’t lying when I said she’d remembered everything right after 364, but in order to function properly this is something she compartmentalized while she had to process other shit. Otherwise she would have been like this right away while there was stuff happening and fights and shit. Casca is not a person who wants to sit weeping in a corner: this ability to repress a memory was something she could do, and she did it in order to continue functioning…but it was never going to last forever.

And yes, this does actually parallel Guts repressing his memories of his childhood assault in Wounds. Except here, he guesses/figures out that’s what she’s doing before it goes too far. I totally planned that parallel.

[17] The way Guts and Casca hold hands here invokes V9 E47, “Wounds Part 2.”

[18] Casca’s talking about her rape in V13 E86-87.

[19] Casca’s talking about the events of V12 E71

[20] Guts knows Griffith cannot have hated them because he was present during the God Hand monologue in V3 E0G

[21] Casca is recounting the events of V13 E81.

[22] Guts talking about staying with Griffith refers to the events of V12 E76-79. His recounting of Gaston’s death and Pippin’s and Corkus’ corpses comes from V13 E84-85

[23] Guts is referencing panels in V13 E86 in which, upon seeing Griffith, he at first seems relieved, and then disbelieving, and then just terrified, and then angry (note I’m simplifying, fuck Miura was good at portraying emotions).

[24] Casca talking about how she chose him is referring to V9 E47, plus some stuff before that.

[25] Guts’ comments here about “couldn’t reach you” apply not only to the rape of E86-87, but also to the moment he saw Casca and failed to reach her in V13 E85. That image of Casca out of his reach, held above apostles, recurs in V27 E228 and V37 E328. 

A word about the nitty-gritty of this work as a whole:

This is my ending, sure, but it’s something I created from what Miura left behind. I’m sure there’s more of me in it than I can ever recognize, but I set out to make something that could be read as internally consistent with the rest of the story. I reread constantly while writing, trying to capture and reproduce characters’ voices. I added as few characters as I possibly could. I kept firmly to the key themes as I understand them, and didn't do anything that I didn't think had strong textual support.

In terms of the plot and backstory, I went deep instead of wide whenever possible. I’m absolutely sure that at least the first half of the plot is nothing like how Miura would have done it, because Miura was a great mangaka. A great mangaka always has plot stuff in their pocket that readers can’t possibly predict, things which will alter the course of the story. I'm not a mangaka, and you won’t find any big-reveal theories being realized in this story. Nothing about Guts’ parentage, very little about the true plan of the God Hand or purpose of Falconia or Skull Knight’s backstory. Sure, I have my mad theories, like most people, I suspect. But whenever possible, I tried to focus on the most logical next step to what was written in the text.

The main thing for me was the characters. I wrote this because I wanted to know what would have happened next. First because I wanted to know what would happen next for Guts and Casca, and then because I wanted to know how it’d end for them. I thought the situation they were left in at the end of 364 was unbearably tragic, as they watched Griffith a) steal their son from them and b) invade the place of safety they’d worked so hard to reach. I needed it to not stay like that, so I sat down to write.

In general, whenever I could, I was working to capture the voices of the characters as they were in the official English translations of Berserk. This was ridiculously fun. I ended up with a whole new appreciation for Miura’s writing, especially in Millennium Falcon and Fantasia. The character voices are so distinct, so clear and wonderful. I learned a lot. And I found out that writing Guts and Puck fighting is wicked fun, too, which I never would have realized.

I also gained a whole other level of appreciation for Miura as a storyteller from trying to write this. You may notice that the characters talk way too much in this work. All of them. Way too much. That’s because all I had was words on a page to use for the characterization and storytelling. Even cutting away to an image or describing a character’s physical movements felt clunky after reading Berserk. Miura had so much more than words to tell this story: he had the images as a whole, he had details within the images of foreground and background, he had shadings and artistic techniques, he had the ability to cut away for a panel to suggest a connection without forcing it, he had the ability to place characters in whatever physical arrangement would most emphasize what he wanted to be emphasized, he had the characters’ facial expressions, their physical movements, their eyes—and then he had their words. But he could also have more than one character talk at once, he could create emphasis with changes in font and word bubble divisions, and do even more that I’m sure I’m forgetting. And then he had the actual dialogue.

Writing this sometimes felt like trying to play a whole orchestral piece with a violin and a drum. 

There were things I just didn’t try to do. I didn’t try to recreate Miura’s humor. Partly because it was so much part of the background and I was focusing on the foreground, partly because a lot of the humor was cultural, and partly because it was just him, it was something that felt more like Kentaro Miura was speaking than anything else in the story, and I couldn’t come close to something like that. Nor did I want to try.

And I didn’t even try to write real Berserk fights. Instead, I focused on what was happening with the characters in the fights. I worked on doing something Miura often did at the height of Berserk, in which the character having the fight and the characters watching the fight were both developing through the action. But I didn’t write much in the way of fight action, because it would be like trying to play an organ piece with a recorder. 

You also obviously noticed that there are a bunch of footnotes here. Enjoy them if you like that kind of thing, skip them if not!

This work will post every Wednesday and Saturday.

Chapter Text

After some time, Casca sits up a little.

“Let’s go to bed, Guts,” she murmurs.

He stiffens.

Slowly he draws back. Away from her.

Her arms fall from around him,

He doesn’t meet her eyes.

“I’ll,” he coughs, “I can go get Farnesse, if you don’ want to sleep alone.”

Casca doesn’t say anything.

Guts starts gathering himself to stand, legs under his body, still looking away from her.

“I should go back to—” he starts.

“Why?”

He pauses, hearing the hurt in her voice.

He closes his eye, shakes his head a little. “You shouldn’…it’s not a good idea. I’m not…” He feels his hand tremble. Clenches his fist. “I’m not safe, Cas. And after…” he bends his head away from her, “after what I did to you…” pain in his voice as he remembers her lying on that cold ground, bleeding, her eyes… “what I did back when we were alone…”[1]

He shakes his head again… “You shouldn’…shouldn’t trust me like that again, Cas,” he rasps out.

Casca leans back, sits on her heels.

Finally she asks, “Was I worth it?”

He looks up at her, brow furrowing. “Huh?”

“Was I worth it?” she repeats. Her eyes are distant, her fists clenched against her legs. “Worth the kind of pain that would drive you to do something like that?”

“Was I worth your arm? Your eye? Worth every day looking at me and seeing someone…seeing someone else looking back at you, reminding you every single day…”

She’s shaking, crying, and he can only stare at her.

“Worth all those scars on you until your hair turned white, worth almost dying for me again and again, and the whole time, me giving you nothing and taking everything…no, me giving you hate in return while you tore yourself apart for me, again and again and—”

“Yes,” Guts says over her.

She glares at him through her tears.

“So why,” she demands, “would I feel any diff—”

“Because I hurt you,” he almost snaps at her. “Because I…I might’ve…”

He shudders all over as he remembers the Beast whispering, “like Griffith did…” “I might’ve—”

“You didn’t,” Casca snaps back. “And were you planning on—”

“No!” His fist clenches, “But…Cas…”

He leans back against the side of the bed, eye closing. “There’s a part of me that jus’ wants to…to tear everythin’ apart, destroy everythin’ between—between me and his blood.”

There’s silence.

“Because of me,” she whispers.

His eye snaps open. “Cas—”

“There’s a part of me,” she says, “that wants to toss you away, toss away everything and hide forever and be…nothing. So I won’t hurt anymore—‘nothing’ can’t hurt, see? It’s…it’s so easy…” her head bows, “to be no one. A silent…defeated…thing…just…” her voice is hoarse, falling quieter, “just like he made me—”

Guts leans forward, reaching out and putting his hand over hers. “Cas, that’s not—”

She looks up tearily and glares at him. “No, it’s not: because of you!”

“Cas—”

“Because,” she continues, half-enraged, half-grieving, “you came back for me, because you dove headfirst into hell for me, and you carried it all, all the pain for what had happened—happened to us both!  And then you stayed, and bled and bled and bled for me, and you got me here.”

“Cas, I…I just swung my sword—”

“To save my life,” she retorts.

He shakes his head. “Cas, it was the others who—”

“Who followed you,” she cuts him off.

She puts her hand over his, looking down.

He feels her trace the outline of one scar on his hand, then another, then another. The small scars he hardly even sees anymore.

“No one,” she says, softer now, Her other hand reaches up, tracing scars on his face. Her eyes are wide and shining.

“No one could end up with a body with this many scars over ‘just’ anything.”[2]

He can’t seem to move.

He feels a strange weight on his chest…

He swallows. “Cas, it’s not—”

“I wanted to give you strength,”[3] she whispers. “Instead, I made you…he used me to break you. I just made you weak, I—”

“Cas, look at me,” he says, soft but firm, moving his hand to hold hers.

She looks into his eye.

“Casca,” he says, voice serious, “every drop of blood, every scar—none of it…none of it matters against…”

He sags slowly back, his hand pulling free of hers, her other hand falling from his face.

“I can’ ever atone,[4] Casca, don’ you see? What he…what he did to you…” Guts’ hand reaches up to touch the right side of his face, to touch his eye, “It was because of me,” he breathes. “It was…me, you…you didn’t…it was all my fau—”

“I didn’t what,” she whispers, her knees falling to the floor, her hands falling helplessly to her legs.[5] “Want you? Choose you?”

He stares at her, his hand falling from his face. Her eyes are faraway.

“You wanted to walk away, remember?” she says. “But I,” she swallows, “I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be important to you,” her voice is bitter, her hands slowly curling into fists, fingernails digging into her palms, “and that’s why he could use me to tear you all the way open, because I…because I asked you to trust me and you did, you trusted me with…I…I wanted so badly to go with you, Guts, but I…”

She’s bending forward now, sobbing again. Her hands press against her abdomen.

“But I couldn’t even protect your son, and that’s what this stupid body is for! I’m sorr—”

His arm flies out and grabs her shoulders, pulling her against him.

She unfolds forward, her face pressing to his shirt as he tightens his grip around her.

“It wasn’t your fault!” he hisses fiercely. “Cas, none of it was your—”

She’s shaking against him.

“It wasn’t yours, either,” she chokes out.

Guts hesitates. “It…he did it because—”

She leans back and glares at him.

“You didn’t choose it,” she says, eyes wide.

Then she buries her face in his shirt again.

“We didn’t,” she whispers.

He finds he’s rocking slightly from side to side as he holds her as she cries, his gaze growing distant.

“It’s not just your pain,” she whispers, and he freezes. “It’s not all yours to carry.”

She looks up at him, her eyes full of…

“Not anymore,” she says fiercely.

And that place in his chest hurts so much he can hardly breathe, and he holds her tight against him. With pure desolation.

After a time, slowly,  Guts moves so he can put his right arm in the crook of Casca’s knees. She tightens her grip around his neck, pulls herself up against him as he lifts her. Her arms around him compensate for how little weight he can take with his left half-arm.

He turns, and lowers her to the bed.

She keeps her eyes on his face as he moves.

When he draws his arms away from her, she catches his hand. She moves back, pulls him forward, until he is next to her in the bed.

He turns and blows out the lamp on the bedside table, behind the forgotten mugs. When he looks back, blinking to adjust to the light, his eye narrowing to see through the streaks of black and gray that so often cloud the edges of his vision—he sees she’s looking at him.

Her eyes are wide. Like she’s afraid he’ll vanish at any moment.

He lies back slowly, pulls her towards him with his right arm, until her head is on his chest. She’s pressed so close that he can feel her heart beating…but on that side of his body, from this angle, he can’t see her.

They lie like that for a while. Then, before he dozes off, Casca murmurs, “Why would you still want me?”

Guts blinks. “Huh?”

“After seeing,” she shudders, “that, after…after what he used me to do to you…why would you…”

His arm curls tighter around her, his head leaning towards hers.

He knows from her voice that just saying he loves her won’t explain enough, and he thinks about how to…

“Cas. What…what he forced you…forced us to become…” Guts shakes his head. “That ain’t you, Cas. That’s not you. I want you, Casca. More’n…anything.”

“What you…what we had…I owe you more’n I can ever…”

He presses his face into her hair.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he whispers. “I’m so…so glad you’re…”

Casca shudders. “I’m sorry,” she says softly, “that I make you so weak…”

He squeezes her gently. “You make me…human.”

She snorts, hand briefly pressing against his chest. He feels her body begin to ease, just a tiny bit. “You were always human, fool.”

He smiles. “Yeah, but you know what I mean.”

“I…I think I do,” she whispers.

She hesitates, then says, “what he made us, did to…” she presses her face to Guts’ chest. “That’s not all we are, either.”

Guts’ throat grows tight.

“No,” he rasps. “No, it ain’t.”

Casca’s eyes flutter closed. She burrows close against him.

Neither speaks for a while.

He can see the beginning of dawn outside.

“You still shouldn’t want me, you know,” he says quietly.

She sounds half-asleep when she says, “Don’t you remember what I told you? About wanting a wound I could say you gave me?”[6]

He shakes his head. “That was different…”

“All the wounds you took for me,” she murmurs,” all you’ve hurt for me, and bled, and done…I want to bleed for you, too.” Her voice is just a mutter now. “Are we equal, or aren’t we?”

He can’t speak.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep.

[1] Guts is remembering E23 V190

[2] V9 E46

[3] Reference V9 E46

[4] “Atone” is a reference to V17 E130

[5] Posture in V9 E45

[6] Reference V9 E47

Chapter Text

Casca wakes up first, to a room filled with sunshine.

She keeps her eyes closed. Feeling Guts' warm skin beneath her, the corded muscle and sinew, and hearing the faint sound of his blood pumping through him, keeping him alive and with her.

She finally opens her eyes, looking up towards his sleeping face.

She presses her hand over his heart, and whispers his name.

His eye snaps open, head twisting and his right hand shooting upward, clenching around her body and simultaneously snatching her wrist in a painful grip, so surprising she has no time to move and just yelps, staring up at him.

His eye is wide and fierce and dangerous, until he focuses on her.

Then it all vanishes in an instant, leaving sorrow.

“S…sorry,” he says, dropping her and extending his arm backwards so he’s lying flat again, his head leaning back. “Sorry.”[1]

Casca pulls herself up with her arms on his chest so she can see him, her eyes wide and serious. “What was that?”

He sighs, gazing upward. “There’s these spirits, incubi, that prey on sleepin’ people, sneak up and start eatin’ the brain. So, when I…it’s still new, wakin’ up suddenly without it meanin’ I have to keep somethin’ from killin’ me.”

She’s still staring at him, unmoving.

He shifts uncomfortably beneath her arms, but she shows no sign of getting off him.

“You’re safe from all that, y’know,” he says awkwardly. “Even off the island, with that necklace, you—”

“Why didn’t you stay?” she bites out, and his eye moves to her. He realizes she’s on the edge of tears.

“Why didn’t you stay in that cave?”

He closes his eye. “I should’ve. I—I should never have left you like that. I’m sorry, Casca—”

“That’s not what I asked,” she says, her voice hard.

He pulls his arm out from under her, runs his hand through his hair.

“I…I didn’ know what else to do. I couldn’…there was so much inside me, and I knew it wouldn’…I had to do somethin’ with it. An’…an’ you…”

“I wasn’t really there,” she says quietly, her chin lowering to his chest. He opens his eye. “You…” her voice is painful, “you needed me.”

Guts swallows, but doesn’t argue. He can feel her hand on his chest, her fingers tracing the raised bumps of scar tissue through his shirt.

“But I wasn’t really there,” she whispers. “There was just…a shell.”

He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t ‘ve given…I shoulda tried harder with you. Maybe—”[2]

“You really think that would have made any difference, then?” Casca asks bitterly.

His eye closes again. “I could have tried. I just…gave up!”[3]

“But you came back.”

He looks at her again. She’s running her hand back and forth over the big scar in the middle of his chest.[4]

“You came back,” she repeats, her voice husky.

She looks up at him, and something in her eyes…

Slowly, he rolls onto his side to look at her face to face—at which point the sunlight from the window hits his eye directly, and his left arm comes up to block it, head ducking.

He hears Casca laugh, and before he knows it, she’s out of the bed.

She circles around to the other side, then pulls the covers back and moves underneath, with him. He turns to face her.

His torso blocks some of the harsh sunlight. Creates a small, safe shadow, just for them.

Casca’s fingers reach up, the tips touching his chin.

She draws his face close to hers. Kisses him gently.

He closes his eye.

She moves her left hand to his right arm, her own right hand still on his face. As her hand touches his, their fingers intertwining, and he moves his other arm up towards…

He freezes, his eye opening.

Casca’s eyes flutter open. She pulls away to look at him. “What?”

He looks at his left arm, letting his head relax, drawing a little away from her. The stump of the arm is almost touching her neck where she lies beside him.

“Guts?”

“It’s…I can’t…” he runs his right hand down her cheek. “I can’t…hold you, like I used to.”

She blinks, glances down at his stump. “You mean—”

“When you fell, before,” he says, “I…I could grab you. But now, I can’t…”[5]

She bends down, leans her forehead against the dead skin at the end of his arm.

“It doesn’t—” she murmurs, her eyes closed.

“It does matter,” he says quietly. “When somethin’ happens, I can’t…hold onto you, like I could then.”[6]

He looks away.

She looks at him.

For a few moments, she doesn’t say anything.

Then he feels a tug at his right arm.

He meets her eye, and…

She looks so intent, so focused, so…

Present. Alive.

She pulls him until he’s over her, his head above hers.

He puts his legs carefully to either side of her, props himself up on his palm—and only then slowly lowers himself down to balance above her, his weight on his elbows.

As she watches him, he sees something shift, soften in her eyes.

Her left hand touches his back, presses gently to his shoulder. While her right hand touches what remains of his left arm.

They both turn to watch as she moves her fingers over it, gauging the thickness and shape of his muscles, the contours of his skin. Finally her hand settles into a spot where the bicep muscles fit comfortably against her palm and fingers.

She squeezes gently. He can feel her grip secure around his arm.

“I can hold on to you,” she says quietly.

He looks at her, and his shaking right hand touches her cheek.

She puts pressure on his back and brings him down to her, and they’re moving against each other. She pulls off his shirt, and his hand is touching her skin, and…He bends down to kiss her neck, pulling the collar of her nightgown lower, lower, and she moans, buries her fingers in his hair and presses up against him, her heart racing, he can feel it, just inches away…

He knows…

He tries to slow down, drawing back…

But her hand drags his face back to her skin by gripping his hair and pulling, her left leg is moving, it’s on the outside of his thigh, he can feel her, and she’s so soft, so warm…

And then…

He feels the tension suddenly ripple up her body, a tightening and then—then a total looseness, her arms and her leg falling back flat against the bed.

He pulls himself away from her. “Casca?”

Her eyes are…clouded. Lines grow and deepen in her face, and her breath is shallow.

He puts his hand on her cheek. “Cas—”

She sits up abruptly, her back hitting the headboard as she pulls her arms and legs up against herself, her eyes still so…so far away…

Guts grabs his shirt and puts it on before edging towards her.

He waves his hand in front of her face, but though her eyes are open she hardly blinks.

He feels his heart beating wildly. Should I get Farnesse? But, I’d have to leave her alone…what if…

Desperate, he reaches out and gently picks up her right hand. Her muscles contract and resist a little, but he pulls her hand towards him. To the place on his left arm where, just a minute ago, she’d said…

When he takes his hand away, hers doesn’t fall from his arm. But it doesn’t tighten and hold on, either.

“Casca,” he whispers. He doesn’t dare touch her anywhere else, not when…

“Cas, you said you’d hold on,” fear chokes his voice. Then he takes a breath, and his voice is firm, and kind, when he says, “Hold onta me, Cas. Just hold onta me.”

He feels her fingers twitch.

Nearly sagging with relief, he keeps repeating himself until her breathing starts to slow down, until her body starts to loosen. All but her fingers, which begin to tighten, and keep tightening, until it’s like his arm is in a vise and he couldn’t care less.

Finally she blinks, and her eyes focus on his face.

“Guts?”

He smiles, brushing her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Hey.”

Casca closes her eyes, lowers her head to her knees.

“Shit,” she mutters, “I’m sorr—”

“Casca,” he says, almost harshly.

She looks up at him.

He shakes his head, just a little. “I,” he says fiercely, “understand.”

Her right hand finally falls from his left arm, but only to take his hand. Her other hand circles his, too, and she pulls it to the tops of her knees, near her face.

“I know,” she says quietly. He squeezes her fingers.

“I just…” She leans her forehead against his hand. “I want it back,” she chokes, and he can hear tears in her voice, “I want what we had, that…it was…”

Slowly, Guts moves to sit beside her. His left side is by her right, so he can see her, although she can’t hold his hand anymore.

“I want that too,” he says quietly, closing his eye. “So badly…” he whispers.

And his eye opens again. “That’s what I want, Casca,” he says. “Not…”

She’s silent.

“You…you can’t force somethin’ back the same as it was, not once it’s…”[7]

“I don’t care,” she says softly, her head rising, eyes staring off into space.

There’s a few long, quiet moments.

“Cas—” Guts starts, but she’s shaking her head.

“I don’t care,”[8] she chokes, again, “If it’s not exactly the same. I still want it back!”

Guts stares at her. Then he takes a deep breath.

“That doesn’ mean,” he says softly, “it has to be all at once.”

Casca slowly leans against him. Her head burrows against his shoulder.

“I’m…” she swallows. “You’ve already waited for so long…”

“Casca,” he says firmly, leaning his head against her hair.

She stirs, and he feels her nuzzle his arm with her cheek.

“I won’ lie,” he says, a little huskily, “I do want you. But, more’n anythin’, Cas, I…I want you there with me.” He kisses her hair. “An’ you only just got here.”

There’s moment of stillness.

Slowly, Casca straightens, drawing away from him.

“You’re right,” she whispers, “I did just get here.”

She’s astride him a moment later,[9] her hands on his shoulders, his hand rising reflexively to rest on her hip…

“And this,” she whispers fiercely, eyes wide, “is what I want, too,” and she leans forward, kissing him deeply. “With you,” she mutters, and her hands fall to tear his shirt over his head.

She slides forward, moves her hips against him, and they both cry out.

“Here,” she breathes, pulling up her nightgown enough to bare her legs, pushing herself hard against him, “with you.”

He doesn’t know what to…

She presses her face to his. One hand reaches down and pulls at the joining of his pants, and her other hand cups his and moves it over her body, presses it to her breast through her clothes, and when he touches her she lets out a soft sigh…

And he’s moving against her, stroking her body as carefully as he can, his hand moving over her as her face presses near to him, as she loosens his pants, as she sighs…

She grips his shoulder and pushes herself hard against him…

He forgets how to breathe, how to feel anything but her…

“I’m here,” she says again, body rocking forward, her tongue darting into and out of his mouth, her eyes locked on his face. “Right here.”

“Casca,” he whispers, and there’s only her.

---------

They lie back on the bed afterwards, Casca curling against Guts’ left side, his hand reaching around to stroke her hair.

“I’m back,” she says against his chest.

Guts closes his eye.

“I missed you.”

They stay like that for a while.

Finally, Guts says, “Cas, I…I don’t want for you to…to feel like you need to—”

“This is important to me,” she says quietly, her hand stroking the skin on his chest. “To be able to do this, with you. It’s important.”

She folds her head down then, like she’s embarrassed to have him see her face.

“But I…I don’t know if…” her eyes close. “At least this time,” she whispers. “I… and no one can take that away from me.”

Guts tightens his arm around her.

“Never,” he whispers.

He takes a deep breath, and then relaxes.

“Whatever you want, I’m here,” he says gently.

She cuddles close to him again, and he feels her relaxing too. “This is what I want,” she whispers.

He can feel her breath on his skin. He hesitates, then says, “Casca—”

There’s a loud banging on the door, and they both start.

“Oy!” yells Isidro, “breakfast, lazybones!”

[1] Guts and Casca’s physical movements here echo (more or less) the first few pages of V10 E48.

[2] This references subtext of events in V14 E93-94, as well as Guts’ internal reflections in V17 E130 and V23 E189

[3] This references subtext of events in V14 E93-94, as well as Guts’ internal reflections in V17 E130 and V23 E189

[4] Slan gave this to him in V26 E219

[5] References to the events of V6 E15, V9 E45, and V33 E287

[6] Reference to V33 E287

[7] Reference to V33 E287

[8] This comes from Casca’s assertiveness in V9 E47, and a bit in V10 E49

[9] Bit of inspiration from V7 E18

Chapter Text

The kitchen downstairs[1] is full of bustle and chatter, but everyone calls hello when Guts and Casca arrive. The single large table has been replaced by three small tables surrounded by chairs, with a fourth food-laden table on the far side of the room.

Guts grabs a sparse plate of food and sits down at the only empty table, in the corner by the fireplace and the stairs. Casca doesn’t join him at first, as Isidro has struck up conversation with her by the food.

“C’mon,” he’s saying, “with the big battle comin’, I needta get some more trainin’ in!”

Casca smiles, “All right!” she laughs, “I’ll try to come find you later, okay?”

The boy looks disappointed. “What about right after breakfast?”

“I’ll tell you,” Casca says, more firm now, “when I can.”

Isidro blinks, then faintly blushes. “Th…thank you,” he says politely.

Casca raises her eyebrows. “You’re welcome, Isidro. Now, I’m starved, so—”[2]

He’s suddenly racing to heap food on a plate for her. She almost tells him to stop—but before she can, her face is full of angry elf and she has to back away from the table completely.

“You!” shrieks Ivarela at the top of her voice—then she glances around at everyone sitting on the sides of the room, all eyes rising up towards her. “Hussy!” she finishes in a furious whisper. “Whaddaya think you’re doing with—”

Schierke’s hat flies over the elf, rendering her a shrieking blob.

“Good morning, Casca,” says the young witch politely as she jams the hat back onto her head. She’s blushing, and she doesn’t quite meet Casca’s eyes.

Casca’s eyebrows rise. “Ah…” she says.

She nods towards the stairs, away from the table. Schierke nervously follows her to the foot of the stairway. Everyone is now at the tables, so they won’t be interrupted by someone coming down.

“Uh…” begins Casca awkwardly. “I…I’m not good at this sort of conversation.”

Schierke peers up at her, looking perplexed.

Casca gives her a shy grin. “I didn’t get much practice at…well, being a ‘woman’: talking about men, that kind of thing.”

Schierke blushes furiously.

Casca shifts her weight. “Schierke…about, uh, Guts…”

The girl shrivels up in misery, her grip on her (still-furious) hat tightening. “I…it’s not…”

She meets Casca’s gaze, and sees something…

Kind.

Schierke wilts. “Guts…was kind to me,” she says quietly, “when I lost my mistress, my home, everything but my clothes and Ivarela! He…he gave me a place in the world, when I…”[3]

“And…and that’s why…” she looks up at Casca, a bit nervous still—then happiness replaces the fear in her eyes. “That’s why I’m so glad I was able to return you to him. I was…we were all concerned over what he might do if…but,” she smiles awkwardly, “now I’m just…so delighted for the both of you, I am, I…Casca, after what I saw when we were in the Corridor of Dreams…you deserve to be happy. You both do.”

Casca blinks in surprise. Then she smiles, briefly bends her head and touches Schierke’s forehead with her own.

“Thank you,” she says.

Then a slightly mischievous look enters her eyes. “Tell me if I should stop, all right?”

“Stop wh—” but Schierke’s question answers itself, as Casca tugs up the girl’s hat and plucks Ivarela out by the back of her dress.

The elf is so surprised at first that she doesn’t fight at all.

Casca’s expression hardens. “Ivarela,” she says, in a firm, commanding voice that makes elf and girl straighten reflexively, “what exactly is your complaint against me?”

Ivarela’s previous indignation returns in a flash. “You came in and scooped up Schierke’s man, you—”

“Is that true, Schierke?” asks Casca.

The girl shakes her head vigorously, face bright red.

Casca looks back at Ivarela. “So, according to Schierke herself, that’s not a credible charge against me.”

“He should be her man!” yelps Ivarela. But Casca can tell that her fight’s already dying.

“Twice her age,” asks Casca incredulously, “and already set with someone else? Don’t you want Schierke to be happy?”

“Yes, and—”

“Schierke, is Ivarela making you happy by insisting so forcefully that you want to be with someone you don’t want to be with?”

“No!” yelps Schierke, eyes fixed on the floor.

“She’ll be grateful, in the end,” insists Ivarela, but she’s gone completely limp, dangling from Casca’s hand.

“Won't she be more grateful,” says Casca, “if you help her find someone she does want, and can have—someone without all the fix-up issues she’d get saddled with with Guts?” Casca rolls her eyes towards Schierke. “He really is a mess, you know, and such a pain sometimes.”

Schierke giggles, her blush fading slightly.

“Hm,” says Ivarela, “there are a lot more choices available now than on the trip here…”

She zaps back to her full energy level, flying from Casca’s hand to stand triumphantly on the brim of Schierke’s hat. “I’ll get you a much better one, Schierke!”[4]

“Thank you?” says Schierke to Casca, looking glum at the prospect of fending off a matchmaking elf.

“Good luck,” says Casca, moving around the witch and elf to walk towards Guts’ table, where Isidro has left her food.

“Heard some of that,” says Guts quietly as she approaches, his eye on the bread he’s putting butter on. “Elves, right?”

Casca snorts, sitting on the bench next to him. It’s an outgrowth of the tree trunk that supports the staircase behind them, but it’s surprising comfortable. “Yeah,” she says, suppressing laughter, “elves.”

She looks at Guts’ plate, then at his ropy body under his sleeveless shirt. “Wait, is that all the food you got?”

He shrugs. “I don’t need anymo—”

She’s already up and heading for the food table, where Serpico is talking to Farnesse as he ladles out the last of the stew from the pot at the table’s center.

“Hey, anyone not eaten yet?” Casca asks, pointing at the smaller bowl in his hand.

“No, all have taken their fill,” says Serpico. “I was going to ask the brownies to—”

“Great,” says Casca, taking the bowl from him, then setting it on the table in front of her and grabbing the last scraps of food, heaping them on a plate.

“Oh, are you still hungry Casca?” asks Farnesse. “I could bring you some—”

“I’ve got plenty, this is for Guts,” says Casca, smiling as she raises her head. “But thank—”

She meets Farnesse’s eyes…

And freezes.

Farnesse ducks her head quickly, hair bobbing and color rising in her cheeks. “I can see if there’s any more—”

“No!” says Casca a little too loudly, startling them both. She shakes her head slightly, as if clearing it. “I mean…thank you, Farnesse, but this is plenty.”

Farnesse nods and hurries away to sit by Schierke, passing Isidro and Isma as they head out the door.

Serpico studiously avoids Casca’s eye as he begins to stack empty serving plates.

Casca realizes she still hasn’t moved…she’s trying to absorb what she saw in Farnesse's eyes.

Slowly, she walks back to their table and sets the plate and bowl down in front of Guts, sitting across from him.

“Thanks,” he says, looking a bit skeptical at the amount of food before him. “Uh, really I—”

“You’re skin and bones, shut up and eat,”[5] Casca says. But there’s no real fire in the words.

He glances up at her. “Somethin’ wrong?”[6]

She meets his eye and smiles, but strangely. “Oh, it’s noth—”

Her voice dies as he looks at her.

She moves her head down.

Even now, I can feel something every time I look at Farnesse…a tug, a pull, an…an urge to cling,[7] to be taken care of. It’s…it’s so unlike how I think of myself! I couldn’t even realize it was there, not until…until now, when I try to resist it…

She closes her eyes.

But…I also still feel love. Lots of it.

So I need to know.

Casca’s eyes open. She doesn’t look directly at Guts. But her face colors a little, and she speaks haltingly.

“Guts…it’s about Farnesse. I mentioned you to her, and…do you think…she might…”

Guts turns back to his food, reaching for the bowl of stew. “It’s just a crush sorta thing,” he says quietly.

Casca holds very still and doesn’t speak. Guts continues, talking between bites.

“Farnesse’s head was all messed up when I met her. She couldn’ tell what was real, couldn’ see what was right in front of her or figure out what’d kill her. Then, at the tower, she was in that group that helped us survive.”[8]

Casca remembers standing in a ring of light on a tower wall, seeing Farnesse standing in front of her, the other woman shaking as she clutched a torch. Farnesse had stared at Guts[9]…then turned to face a wall of evil.

“She followed me, after that,” Guts is saying. “Turned up a few weeks later.[10] Said she wanted to learn, from me!”

Casca blinks, memory rising of saying, “Let me come with you! …If you tell me to learn the sword, I will.”[11]

Guts continues, “Said she needed to know the truth ‘bout the world, how to survive the darkness, stuff like that. To be honest, I was desperate for help with you at that point, so I said she could do what she wanted.”

Casca’s fist, below the table out of sight, clenches.

“She’s done amazin’, though,” Guts goes on. “I could never have managed you without her. She’s grown a hell of a lot. I trust her with…well, with your life, an’ that’s…”

He looks directly at Casca, and sees that tears are running in silent streams down her face.

His eye widens. “Uh, did I say somethin’ bad?”

She shakes her head, reaches up and cups his face in her hand. She presses her forehead to his.

“Something good,” she responds.

Guts snorts. “Crazy woman,” he mutters, but moves his head up and gently brushes his lips against her forehead.

Casca hears Farnesse’s voice then, calling goodbye, and she jumps up. Guts smiles after her, then keeps eating mechanically.

Casca catches Farnesse near the door. The other woman blushes slightly, not meeting her eyes. “Casca, do you—”

She’s cut off as Casca throws her arms around her.

Farnesse freezes in confusion. Then, Casca murmurs against her shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, Farnesse. I promise, I know exactly how you feel.”[12]

Farnesse stiffens…then her face crumples, and she leans towards Casca.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to, but I, I just can’t—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Casca moves back, cradles Farnesse’s face in her hands. “I understand, Farnesse, I…I really do.”

Farnesse nervously shoots her a look, then her eyes fall again, her head tilting down and to the side.

“I…I know that…” she closes her eyes, “I’ve known, probably all along, that I’d never…”

Then her eyes flash open, and she looks at Casca. “But, I,” Farnesse touches her chest, “I felt what you felt, when we were saving you in the Corridor of Dreams, and I know that your feelings…” she’s tearing up, and her manner is so intense that Casca starts to look a little bit nervous,[13] “your feelings are so true and right, and I know…I know he feels the same,” she finishes quietly.

Casca smiles. “I’d noticed,” she says. Then she leans her forehead against Farnesse’s.

“Thank you,” she says, firmly, warmly. Because she knows what Farnesse is trying to say, the difficult truths that lie behind the words.

She gently lifts her face, and kisses Farnesse’s forehead.

And for the first time, Farnesse realizes that the other woman is older than her.

She throws her arms around Casca, hugs her tightly, and treasures the feel of the warm arms that no longer cling to her.[14]

As they break apart, they hear a polite cough from the door. When they look, Danaan is standing there, wearing her “domestic” clothes.

“There’s no need to fear, today,” the elf queen says in her serene way. “Our scryers report that the enemy has only just returned to his roost. Still, we must begin our preparations.”

She looks at Casca. “My dear, do you mind accompanying me for a while?” Her eyes move to Guts, who is already walking away from the table. “And you as well?”

Guts exchanges a look with Casca. “I’ll be right back,” he says, climbing the stairs.

Farnesse and Schierke both start moving towards Danaan, mouths opening, but Isidro speaks first demanding, “Whaddaya want them for?”

“We must gather information to prepare fully and properly,” answers Danaan serenely. “Schierke, Farnesse, your help will be valued in the village of mages. The rest of you are welcome to remain at leisure here gathering strength, or you may talk to my subjects to determine how best you might aid the coming defense of the island.”

“I think,” says Serpico, “I shall inform our shipmates[15] of yesterday’s events. Isidro, Isma—”

Guts clambers down the stairs, now armed and armored. Casca’s face tightens when she sees the black metal covering him again, but she doesn’t say anything.

Danaan leads them into the forest. She doesn’t speak or try to start a conversation.

As they pass through the massive trees at the border of Elfhelm territory, Guts finally loses patience. “You really had no idea?”[16]

“None,” says Danaan calmly, not needing to ask what he’s talking about. “He was entirely obscured by the child. Which means,” she glances back at them, a kind light in her eyes, “that in the right conditions, the boy’s od is strong enough to overcome that of the God Hand’s.”

Guts finds he’s grinning. A little bitterly. “Damn right,” he says quietly.

He barely avoids flinching when, a moment later, Casca’s hand slides suddenly into his.

He turns his head a little towards her, though he can’t see her on that side, and gives her an almost-true smile.

When they catch sight of the great gurus’ hall, Guts drops her hand and wraps his arm around her shoulders instead. But she flinches away.

“Sorry!” he says, starting to pull back.

“No!” she says quickly, smiling at him even though he can’t actually see it. “It’s just…I don’t think you ever did that, really, back when…”

She reaches up and her hand touches his where it’s resting on her shoulder.

“You’re different, you know,” she says quietly, threading their fingers together.[17]

Guts opens his mouth a little, then closes it, worried about what she means.

He’s glad he didn’t speak when he gets up the courage to turn his head so he can look at her. She meets his gaze, and…and he can hardly breathe there’s so many feelings in that look she gives him. Sorrow, but also gratitude. Comfort, solace, and…unmistakably, love.

He swallows, and tugs her a little closer.

They’re at the steps of the hall, now. This is gonna hurt, Guts thinks.

Danaan pauses while they hug each other. “I’ll be right next to you,” he mutters into Casca’s neck.

He feels her smile. “I was about to say the same thing,” she whispers.

He draws back to look at her, astonishment written all over his face. She smiles at him, though her eyes are full of tears.

He doesn’t have to face this alone.

In spite of the previous night, in spite of everything he’s been through the last few months, he hadn’t really believed that since…

Since he woke up with one eye and one arm, and realized that she…

It’s such a powerful feeling he almost fears it, fears how desperately he wants to hold onto it—to this sensation of looking into her eyes and being seen in return.

Casca puts her left hand on Guts’ cheek, and he bends to brush his lips against hers.

Then she pulls away and wipes her eyes, gives a tremendous sniff that almost makes him laugh, and turns to Danaan, fists clenching at her sides.

“We’re ready,” she says.

Guts steps easily into his usual position, walking a few paces behind Casca and watching over her, and they enter the mages’ council of war.

[1] The layout of this dining room is slightly altered from what we glimpsed in episode 364. In that episode, everyone clumps around a table that is juuuust big enough for 6 people. This room has slightly larger dimensions than suggested by those images, along with a window on the far side from the staircase, in order to comfortably fit everyone at once without them being on top of each other.

I did this because having everyone sitting at one big table wasn’t conductive to the drama that is going to play out in this room. These characters need to be able to have conversations between 2-3 of them at a time, without being overheard or overwhelmed by the other characters. My way of managing the size of this cast. And it's a magic house on a magic island, it can do what it wants.

[2] Isidro is referencing what was established between him and Casca in V41 E359.

I quite like the way this ends up playing out, because it’s similar and yet different to how Isidro was back in the day with Guts. He was very determinedly disrespectful of Guts, while also hell-bent on sticking with him and learning. Here (built on 359) we see how much he’s grown and changed: he’s determinedly respectful of Casca, solicitous of her. Some of that is because she’s a girl, but more of it is just that he’s different.

[3] Schierke’s talking about a bond that formed mostly in V28 E237 and V29 E249.     

[4] So this is one of the very few times when I knew, I knew that Miura probably wouldn’t have done something—and I did it anyway.

I’m gonna be brutally honest: I have no regrets.

The thing with Schierke’s crush on Guts…this is a semi-comedic trope I’ve seen turn up in a lot of anime and manga: a young (usually preteen) girl with a crush on an adult or much older man. I think it’s gross, but to be fair, from what I can tell, it’s meant to be seen as romantic rather than sexual. To be more fair, it is still gross.

That said, I don’t think this trope being here is inherently a bad part of the Berserk. Jill is a fantastically written character, and she, like Schierke, pretty explicitly has a crush on Guts. For Schierke, it genuinely does make sense that she would develop a crush on Guts—she even explains it herself to Sonia in V28 E246.

But there’s two reasons I ultimately come down on not liking this plotline. The first reason is that it ends up being the only emotional component of the climactic fight while leaving Vrittanis in V31-32. There’s not enough meat on those bones to justify that, and the suggestion that this subplot is so serious that it’s all we have to emotionally connect with any character during this fight…yeah, no, crosses a line.

And the second reason I don’t like it is that it continues well after it’s essentially resolved in V33 E288, and ends up being Schierke’s only subplot for a big chunk of the narrative. When Schierke’s introduced, she has these great conflicts about the idea of just accepting her fate, and her contempt of humans versus her desire to do good. The first conflict either resolves or vanishes, the second resolves rather quickly and just has some leftovers in her dislike of the city. So then all she has is this Guts crush. Then that’s resolved on the boat. But 1) no other plot replaces it and 2) Ivarela won’t shut up about it. So most of Schierke’s internal life for several years was basically that running deeply questionable joke.

tl;dr I think the “Schierke is in love with Guts” plot is kinda gross, BUT my understanding is that it follows a trope which is seen as a very good joke in Japan. Humor doesn’t always translate. My problem with it and the reason I resolved it here is 1) I’m not Japanese and I think it’s gross and 2) as Casca points out to Ivarela, the elf keeping the plot alive is actually getting in the way of Schierke developing a more genuine relationship with a boy who’s actually her own age. It’s also keeping her relationship with Guts from developing. This joke was way past its expiration date, and I don’t care if Miura, god rest his soul, thought it was hilarious.

[5] These references to Guts and his weight/health are inspired by V27 E236 and kind of by V29 E252. Yeah, it’s been a while since then when Guts was more or less resting on the boat, but with the armor use it makes sense he’d have trouble keeping weight, and also it’s a good little interaction to have with these two and I like it so I don’t care.

[6] Dynamic here with some inspiration from V10 E50.

[7] I’ll mention it once: just about every time the word “cling” is used from here to the end of this story, it’s in reference to V20 E159 and V21 E169.

[8] Referring to events of V16 E121-V17 E125. Then moving to V21 E171.

[9] V21 E172

[10] V23 E190

[11] V6 E16

[12] The parallels between Guts and Farnesse, Griffith and Casca, are very pointed.

1) They really start at the Tower, when Farnesse is able to help save herself because of Guts, like Casca was able to save herself because of Griffith (mind, Guts was also part of the saving thing, and Griffith gave a terrified kid a sword. Guts is better). V21 E171 and V6 E16.

2) It becomes more explicit when Farnesse reaches Guts and says she wants to learn from him. There’s the parallel of the "learning" line that I highlighted in the section. There’s the fixation on him, a cross between infatuation and worship. There’s his response that it’s her choice. Farnesse kneels and cuts off her hair to demonstrate her commitment—Casca spends the beginning of the scene when she meets Griffith kneeling, and presumably soon after she cuts off her hair to demonstrate her commitment. But, again, Guts is better. The conversation with Casca consistently happens while Griffith's literally “above” her. And Casca, notice, cuts off all her hair to transform her personality to something rigid, a profile of someone who will be “useful” to Griffith. Farnesse cuts off less of her hair, and Guts really is as good as his word, and leaves her alone to develop the way she actually wants. V23 E190 and V6 E16

3) The scene in the V33 E288 when Farnesse gives Casca a bath, is a VERY direct parallel to the scene in V7 E18. The physical positions are very similar. In both scenes, one person (Farnesse and Casca) is frustrated by the unfairness of the situation, and demands to know why the person they love (Guts and Griffith) would love this unworthy person (Casca and Guts) to the point where they would almost die to help them.

4) When Farnesse is in Casca’s dreamscape, they see when Casca met Griffith. Farnesse reflects that something inside Casca changed, and that it’s like how Farnesse felt about Guts. V39 E350

So all this is actually lovely. Because once Casca recognizes it, it brings her closer to Farnesse. And it’s a chance for Casca to, firstly, see the toxic relationship she had with Griffith being “righted,” and know that the Elaine persona she hated was part of that; secondly, to see her younger self, the one who was so in love with Griffith, reflected in Farnesse, and begin to face that past and find some peace with it.

[13] For examples of Farnesse getting weird like this, see episodes V23 E191, V26 E222, and V27 E236.

For an explanation of how Farnesse would be able to act like this, see V39 E350.

And for the origins of the deep relationship between Farnesse and Casca, see V25 E208 and V26 E217-218.

[14] These scenes are about how Casca’s primary relationships with other group members (Isidro, Farnesse, and Schierke) shift on her full return. Casca is a commander, she has a firm and forceful personality. She wasn’t able to clearly remember those times, and when she returned in the manga she was quite passive, and mostly had relationships basically identical to the ones she had as Elaine (except for 2 pages with Isidro). Now that she’s really back, these three are meeting the real Casca for the first time. And the real Casca is very aware of other people’s relationships around her (see mid and late Golden Age, Casca was always the most aware and perceptive in that triangle), and has a commanding personality. That means she’s able to be firm and pointed with Isidro and Schierke (both are surprised by this), and extremely perceptive about the Guts relationships with Schierke and Farnesse. So her relationships all evolve in this scene, becoming more truly her own and shifting into more complex, two-way dynamics.

[15] The ship was last seen in V38 E342, and had like a lot of people on it

[16] Guts is talking about the kid showing up in V41 E364.

[17] Casca’s on his other side here, but this is inspired by E22 E182.

The idea here is that, back when Guts and Casca were together, they weren’t exactly at the PDA level. When they did touch like that around other people or just generally out in the open, there was a specific reason: one of them needed serious support or was injured.

When Guts reaches Casca again in Conviction, it’s different. One very fucking sad thing about the winter’s journey episodes is how incredibly touchy Guts is at first. This is the guy who was, in the very first episode of Berserk, having panic attacks at the idea of an elf touching him. But in early Millennium Falcon episodes, he’s taking every opportunity he can to touch Casca—not sexually, mind. He refers to it as "license to touch you with tenderness," at one point.

So there are two interpretations of what's going on there, neither of which, by the way, is mutually exclusive. One is that he’s doing it out of sublimated sexual desire. This is part of it, I think, but I’d argue it goes deeper. Because Guts isn’t a very sexually active person. Yeah, there’s the first page, but with the sole exception of Casca, Guts never seems to sexually desire a single person. It’s different with Casca because it isn’t just sex, it’s intimacy.

And intimacy, support, emotional connection is what Guts really wanted, needed, on that winter’s journey. Unable to get it, he took the next best thing and touched her “with tenderness.” Trying to hold onto that connection.

So, this scene is that coming full circle. Because back when Casca was awake and herself, they weren’t really at that stage of the relationship yet, and this is the first time they’ve been out of the house together. So this is a new sort of dynamic, and it’s a bit uneven because Guts, without even thinking about it, is reaching out for her again. That's, weirdly, a stage he’s reached in their relationship while she wasn’t there.

And Casca rather likes being at that stage.

It’s sweet and validating and I love it.

Chapter Text

The four gurus sit around the same table they had been at before, though nothing is on the surface now.[1] Ged is speaking quietly when they enter, but he immediately turns and gives Danaan a grateful look.

“Welcome, your majesty.”

Danaan seems takes the hint in his voice, and between one step and another she transforms from maid to queen, cherry blossoms radiating from her as the magic takes hold.[2]

“Master mages,” she says, voice low, as she reaches the table. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well, er, I’m still a bit unclear,” says Skirbil, “on why we’re all supposed to be so worried, your majesty.”

“Indeed. After all,” adds Ginnar, “why should such immediacy of the threat be assumed? Surely evaluation is in order.”

“I see,” says Danaan, looking at Ged.

“The Falcon has reached his city,” says the mage quietly, “but that is all my scrying[3] can determine. That, and the absence of an army marching forth for the moment.”

“You see,” says Ginner, “a host of possibilities remain as to what may come next.”

At that moment an eerie chill enters the hall, and the shadows seem to darken for a heartbeat.[4]

Casca takes an automatic step backwards towards Guts, then tightens her jaw and holds herself still. She straightens her back and turns to look directly at the source of the uncanny feeling: the Knight of the Skeleton, who is sweeping down the hall from the opposite side that she and Guts had entered.

“Your majesty,” says Ged respectfully, inclining his head.

“Majesty of a land long consumed,”[5] points out Thrainn. His voice is solid as an oak, and judgement drips from every syllable.

Danaan sniffs disapprovingly,[6] and the mage visibly wilts a little. “Welcome—sir knight,” he says flatly, and his greeting is echoed by Ginnar and Skirbil.

“I offer my apologies to you all,” says the Skeleton Knight, “That one of the inhumans was able to infiltrate this haven without my intervention. I assure you, on its return I shall do my utmost in defense of your safety…Yet, I fear that even I shall be unable to repel the host the Falcon shall bring upon us.”

“We were just discussing that,” says Ged. “Some of my fellows feel that—”

“Why would the Falcon drag a host halfway across the world with such urgency?” demands Thrainn, folding his arms. “There is still a great task before him, that of solidifying his hold over his own realm, not to mention the challenge of ruling it in spite of—”

“Griffith doesn’ care about rulin’,” interrupts Guts, and all eyes turn to him. “It’s all ‘bout the climb, for him.”[7]

“Hmph,” mumbles Thrainn. “Even so, there remains plenty else in the world for him to climb.”

“But none,” says the Skeleton Knight, “which threaten his ascension[8] more than this island, of whose location he is now aware.”

“There are other magical enclaves in the world,” points out Ginnar. “We have only recently seen the Falcon turn his thirst for conquest on giants,[9] for example. There’s no particular reason to conclude he shall set aside all else and lead the entire Band of the Falcon here at speed, merely because—”

The argument among the gurus continues, more or less amiable, held between old men who could easily sit for years debating the answer to a single question.

Casca doesn’t hear it. All she hears is her heartbeat, and a strange ringing in her ears.

She steps back a pace and looks up at Guts. He’s listening to the mages with a faint look of disgust and boredom, but as she turns to face him, he looks down at her.

“The…” she chokes out.

His left hand half-rises towards her as his eye grows concerned.

“The Band of the Falcon?” she repeats hoarsely.

His face hardens, left hand falling and right fist clenching.

“Yeah,” he says, anger strengthening his features. “That’s what he’s still callin’ his followers. The humans, I think, an’ the apostles.”

“The…” Casca feels sick, her head strangely foggy. “The apostles. The same ones who…”[10]

Guts nods tightly.

The same ones, Casca thinks, who brutalized and tortured us, who butchered our comrades in reward for loyalty.

Comrades…men I asked to follow me, to help Griffith.

Now, they’re forgotten, replaced by the very beings who…

She realizes she’s leaning forward, forehead resting on Guts’ breastplate as he supports her.

He has his left arm around her—what’s left of it, the rest of it eaten by an apostle who now is probably calling itself a…[11]

Her teeth clench.

Before she thinks about it, Casca spins around, strides forward, and slams her fists on the table.

She doesn’t actually say, “Shut up,” but her meaning is clear, and silence falls.

“Griffith,” she bites out, “will come here. This chatter is foolish, wasting time before a horde of apostles descends on us!”

After a long pause, Skirbil coughs and says, “Young lady, I understand you have knowledge of the Falcon, but—”

She glares at him.

His mouth slowly closes.

“Griffith,” she says through clenched teeth, “has to come here. For us.” She gestures at Guts and at herself. “He can’t let us live—not knowing what we know,” she takes a deep breath, “about our boy.”

Everyone, including Guts, looks surprised at this. But then the mages begin to nod.

“Yes,” says Ginnar, sounding more animated than before. “A crack in his armor such as that child being fused to his physical form would be something he is likely to feel necessary to limit knowledge of—”

“It’s more than that,” interrupts Casca. “He has to snuff out weakness like that. He could never tolerate weakness. And if he can’t…if he could continue without the boy, he would have done what was necessary to…to kill him already.” Casca’s voice is harsh. “But he hasn’t, so it’s logical to conclude he can’t. So, he has to stop the reason the boy takes over him.”

“In that case, why hasn’t he done so before?” asks Ged.

Casca opens her mouth…but she doesn’t have an answer.

“Maybe he didn’ know,” says Guts suddenly. Everyone looks at him. “’Fore this, the boy left always long before dawn. Griffith said somethin’ about not rememberin’ anythin’ but vague feelings after bein’ the boy—he might not even have known the kid was comin’ to us. But now, we don’ just know about the boy,” he smiles grimly, “we know how strong the kid is.”

Confused looks greet his words. Guts turns his eye to Casca. “Remember? There was a hill of swords, and rocks were flyin’ everywhere?”[12]

She looks baffled for a moment. Then her eyes widen, and she jerks convulsively, her arms expanding as if to push something around her away. But then, she gets it.

“One second,” she says slowly, “Griffith was up on the hill. The next, there were rocks everywhere, and then I…he saved me…”

Guts nods. “The kid must have seen you in danger and made Griffith protect you, considerin’ everythin’” he stiffens through a wince, “there’s no other explanation that makes sense.”

The great gurus are speaking to one another as he finishes, and Thrainn is nodding.

“Indeed, to allow such as this to persist,” says the guru, “would be an act of pure folly on the part of the Falcon.”

“A true host,” says Ginnar quietly, “must be coming.”

“Indeed,” says the Knight of the Skeleton, “and the folk here are not well-prepared to vanquish them.”

“Well,” says Casca, leaning forward, fists on the table, “you have the…former second-in-command of the Band of the Falcon right here.”

For a moment, the pain is almost overwhelming…

She glances back at Guts, and sees her own feelings reflected in his single eye.

She inhales, and turns back to the table of gurus. “I know his tactics. And if nothing’s changed,[13] for him,” bitterness enters her voice, and her nails are digging into her palms. “Then I still know far more about how he thinks than he probably ever guessed.”

“Someone please get me a map.”[14]

[1] This is the hall seen in V39 E345

[2] A transformation as seen in V39 E346

[3] The gurus’ use of scrying was established in V40 E356

[4] Skull Knight’s eerie effect was established when he first appeared in V9 E37

[5] See V10 E53 and V41 E361

[6] This references the emotional relationship between the Skull Knight and Danaan established in V41 E363

[7] V40 E356

[8] That Griffith could be threatened by magic users was established when Skull Knight explained why Flora was killed in V28 E237

[9] V40 E356-357

[10] This builds on something which did not get enough time to land properly in V26 E223

[11] The apostle who ate Guts’ arm is indeed seen again fighting as a member of the Falcons in V27 E235 (where is name is given as Borkoff) and V38 E336

[12] V22 E180

[13] V22 E181

[14] Casca’s command behavior here is inspired by her general attitude during the Golden Age. It draws in particular from how she acted when Griffith wasn’t around or was disabled, including as seen in V9 E42-44 and V10 E49-57, and V11 E61-62.

Chapter Text

Guts stays for a while, watching Casca as long as he can justify it to himself to delay his own errand. She’s surrounded by a crowd of mages, elves, and things he doesn’t know the name of, and they’re all busily making plans, coordinating supplies, discussing tactics…and on…and on…

He never saw this part, back in the day when he lived for the battlefield. His job was to swing his sword where people pointed.

But when this next battle comes, it’ll be a little different than it was before, and he has his own preparations to make.

So eventually, he moves to catch Casca’s eye, then glances at the door. She nods sharply. Her face is still as hard as it’s been since he told her about the new Falcons, but…

She’s determined, as much as he’s ever seen her.

He’ll be done soon. She'll be fine.

He leaves the hall, and manages to find his way to Hanaar’s forge without much trouble.[1]

“A sword to cut someone into two people?” says the dwarf doubtfully after Guts finishes speaking.

Guts nods. “Two beings in one body,” he repeats.

Hanaar sighs. “And that’s really all you know?” 

Guts shrugs. “The one I want to cut out had a physical body, in this world, once, but it was tiny, an’ infected with evil before it was born. Turned into a spirit, an’ then when Griffith came back in his new body, the kid must have been in the same place or linked spiritually or whatever, an’ they both got new bodies.”

“Hm,” says the dwarf. “You really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Guts ignores this. “Can you make somethin’ to do what I asked or not?”

“Maybe—if you get someone who actually knows about how this business with souls works to explain.”

Guts sighs, but smiles faintly. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” says Hanaar, turning back to his forge. “Lots to do, before our last stand.”

Guts, halfway to the door, freezes. “What?”

“Oh, just an old superstition,” fire lights the smith’s face. “Always assume each battle is your last.”

“Do that,” snaps Guts, “an’ it will be.”

The dwarf snorts. “And how many centuries have you been alive?”

“Bit of one,” retorts Guts, “but I’ve been on battlefields almost since I was born.”

“Oh, I suppose you know best, then,” says Hanaar, contempt dripping off him.

Guts shrugs and continues out the door, heading back towards the village.

He has less distance to cover than he thought: he stumbles on Schierke and several other witches not long after he starts out from the forge. The mages are inspecting a bunch of wicker men, talking like they’re preparing some rituals for them.[2]

“Oy, Schierke!” Guts calls, and she flies down nearer the ground towards him. It’s strange to have to crane his neck to look at someone. “Give me a hand with that old dwarf smith?” he asks.

Her brow furrows. “Why, did he—”

“I dunno how to explain about the…” Guts hesitates. Well, it’s accurate, after all, “’bout my boy.”

It feels strange to say aloud, and he almost wishes he hadn’t.

But Schierke’s face immediately crumples with worry, and she lands her broom in a flash, calling up to the other witches that she’ll see them later.

As they walk along the cliff path, Schierke hesitates, then says, “Guts…um, I…I’m really happy for you. And Casca, I mean.”

Guts keeps his eye on the edge of the path, wary of the things living below. But he quietly says to the young witch, “It’d never have been possible, without you an’ Farnesse. I’d like to thank you.”[3]

Schierke ducks her head shyly, hiding her smile.

With her there to explain, Hanaar understands so quickly that Guts suspects the dwarf had been having him on the whole time. Hanaar tells them he’ll be done by the next day, and pointedly dismisses them both.

---------

Casca is so focused on her task of planning the island’s defense, she hardly notices when the sun sets. She doesn’t move from her table in the great hall, even after everyone else filters away. There’s just so much for her to do, maps to study, contingency plans to make, before—

“Casca?”

She jerks up and looks around.

Farnesse has walked up without her noticing. On the younger woman’s face is a mixture of concern and compassion, an expression familiar to Casca despite paradoxically being new.

“Serpico’s making dinner,” Farnesse says, “everyone else is already back at the house.”

Of course, Casca thinks, we all must eat together. We don’t know when the last…

She hesitates, glancing at the pile of papers on the table. “I should…”

“You need to eat, Casca,” says Farnesse, firmness entering her tone, “to keep up your strength.”

Casca stares at the other woman a moment, then smiles. “All right,” she says, getting to her feet, giving the papers one last look as she stands.

And as her hand draws away, she sees the image it was covering and freezes.

Where she had been absently marking up a bit of parchment, there is now a half-drawn emblem of the Band of the Falcon.

Farnesse follows her gaze.

A moment later, Casca feels the woman’s arm around her waist. She looks at Farnesse and sees…not the depth of understanding and shared sorrow she sees when she looks at Guts at such moments, but instead…simple, honest kindness.

Casca leans her head left, onto Farnesse’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

Then she straightens, blinking hard. “Let’s go eat.  What’s Serpico making?”

---------

When the women pass through the door of their little house, Casca reaches out and briefly squeezes Farnesse’s hand. Then she heads towards Guts, who is at the table behind the stairs again. He’s patiently listening to Isidro rant about Roderick’s plans to defend the coast and Isma’s role in the merrows’ plan to work with the ship captain.

Without saying anything, Casca sits down beside Guts, pulls up his left arm, lays her head on his shoulder, and instantly falls asleep.

Both man and boy stare at her for a moment.[4] Then Guts snorts and says, “Hey, Isidro, get some food for our general.[5]”

Isidro blinks, then jumps up, Puck standing to attention on the boy’s head while directing a salute at the sleeping woman. They rush away to the food table. They pass Serpico’s table as they go, where Farnesse is now starting to eat.

“How do you like the lentils?” asks Serpico.

“Fine,” says Farnesse distantly, eating mechanically.

Serpico eyelids flutter. “Perhaps if I add some salt, then—”[6]

“I said they were fine,” snaps Farnesse. Then she winces. “I…I apologize, Serpico. I just…”

Her gaze catches and follows Isidro as he runs back to the table where Guts and Casca are sitting.

Serpico studies his food. “Casca seems to be doing wonderfully,” he says casually.

Farnesse looks back at her bowl. “She’s amazing,” the younger woman says quietly. Almost sadly. Her face is full of complex emotions.

Serpico nods, eyes still on his meal. “It can be difficult,” he says in his amiable way, “to no longer be needed.”

Farnesse jerks upright, staring at him. He’s still studying his food, but his eyes are slightly open.

Farnesse reaches out and grabs his left hand where it rests on the table. “I still need you,” she says intently.

He smiles a little. “No, you do not, Lady Farnesse.” He raises his eyes to look at her. “You still have my loyalty. But you no longer need it. I think you have not needed it for some time now.”[7]

“Serpico…”

“And now that we have arrived at the crossroads,” he says, gesturing around the room with his spoon, “now that the pure needs which drove us have been fulfilled, the question can no longer be avoided: what is it the we want?”

He nods at Isidro. “To become a great warrior? A master sailor? Or, perhaps, something else entirely?”[8]

He nods at Guts and Casca, who is beginning to sit up. “To embrace the past and its pain, in an endeavor to forge an unknown future? To do so—at any price?”

He looks at Schierke, who is just arriving for supper. “To remain with the family of chance? Or join a new family?”[9]

He looks back down at his bowl. “Even Roderick must choose whether to linger here, or make his way home, or dare the perils of the open sea. And Magnificio, and Azan as well, shall both soon be free to do as they desire, unbound from our journey.”

Serpico looks up at Farnesse again. “And finally: you, my lady. Shall you make this place your home? Or shall you renew your engagement, and become a queen of the fantastic new seas?”[10]

She stares at him, her eyes wide.

He smiles gently, and begins to bow his head towards his food.

Suddenly Farnesse asks, “What about you?”

His eyelids descend.

“I? I have never made a choice, Lady Farnesse. I have merely fitted myself to the choices which others made for me.”

Farnesse’s left hand is still over his. She adds her right hand to it, both her palms over his against the table.

“I…I am sorry I did that to you, Serpico.”

Serpico raises his eyebrows. “I do not complain, my lady.”

“You should,” she says quietly, averting her eyes from him. “You…you should hate me, for…for the choices I made for you.”

The candle flame on their table flickers between them.

Serpico glances at it. Then back at her.

He gives her a strange, uncommon look. One of deep affection.

“I know,” he says quietly, “you were seeking only for survival. Your own—and mine, as well.”

There are tears in her eyes. “I am still sorry,” she whispers, pain in her voice.

Serpico turns his hand over beneath hers. He wraps his fingers around Farnesse's. Squeezes gently.

“Apology accepted, my lady,” he tells her.[11]

Farnesse sniffs, withdrawing her hands to wipe her eyes.

“You should try it,” she says suddenly as she settles back.

Serpico’s brow furrows in confusion. “Making a choice,” Farnesse explains. “About what you want.”

He gives her a strained smile.

“I think the subject shall require much thought,” he says delicately, resuming his meal. “And right now, with a battle imminent, is not—”

“After, then,” Farnesse interrupts. And after a moment, she smiles. Self-consciously adopting her old, tyrannical tone, she continues, “I demand that you decide what you want, Serpico. You cannot deny me.”

His smile becomes warm. “As you wish, my lady,” he answers, bowing his head, then moving over as Schierke comes to the table and sits beside him.

---------

Guts nudges Casca again with his elbow. “Eat, woman, or it’ll get cold.”

She elbows him back and he winces. As she sits up, she hesitates, realizing he was needling her to get her to wake. She shoots him an annoyed grin, and he smiles back.

“C’mon,” groans Isidro.

“Don’t be rude,” Puck scolds the boy.

Casca ignores them both. “What’s the word, about…” she asks Guts quietly.

He snorts. “Smith sent me away. Said my hoverin’—standin’ still in the corner—was too distractin’. It won’t be a big blade, mind, an’ he was squirrely about what exactly it’ll do. Still, s’pose small ain’t necessarily same as bad…”

“Don’t think it’ll be worthy of the Hundred-Man-Killer?” asks Casca, voice sick-sweet.

He gives her an exasperated look and opens his mouth to respond.

But Isidro’s chair hitting the floor distracts them all.

The boy is standing up, eyes and mouth agape, face turning a wide variety of interesting colors.

“Y…y…y” he chokes out.

“Keep breathin’,” says Guts.

“You’re not putting on a very good showing, pupil,” says Puck disapprovingly.

“YOU?!” Isidro finally splutters.

Guts sighs. “Yes, me, killed all hundred of ‘em give or take.”

“Told him it was mad,” mutters Casca between bites of dinner.

“Hey, I pulled it off, so—”

Isidro hits the floor in a dead faint.[12]

[1] Hanaar was seen in V41 E361-362.

[2] The wicker men and this area were seen in V41 E361.

[3] Reference to V39 E349.

[4] Tiny bit of inspiration from the opening page of V12 E71.

[5] This isn’t meant to be like Casca’s military rank or something, just Guts being cute.

[6] Referring to Serpico’s culinary abilities as seen in V23 E196 and V27 E236.

[7] This is referencing internal reflections of Serpico in V25 E211 and his monologue in V39 E349.

[8] Isidro’s ambition to be a great warrior is quite well established, but the possibility of his being a sailor is rooted in V32 E286, V33 E289-290, and his generalized attachment to Isma the mermaid (merrow, whatever).

[9] Schierke’s conflict here is a combination of her developments in V29 E249 and V41 E 363.

[10] Farnesse is kind of engaged to Roderick, as seen in V29 E253.

[11] This all refers to events which were related in V22 E185-186.

[12] Isidro’s reaction here is built on V28 E244 and V39 E345.

Chapter Text

By the time Casca finishes eating, it’s Guts who is almost sleeping at the table. Partly because he’d patiently answered several dozen questions from Isidro (admittedly mainly with “I don’t know” or “How would I know that?”) until finally the boy had given up and gone to bed. And then come back three times to ask more questions.

Farnesse waves goodbye to Casca as she and Schierke retreat for magic practice, and soon afterwards Serpico calls good night, leaving them alone in the downstairs room.

Casca sits for a little while after she finishes her meal, watching Guts doze beside her. Her eyes are heavy with feeling.

Then she nudges him awake.

His eye blinks open, and she’s smiling at him.

“C’mon,” she says, and gives his arm a tug. He opens his mouth to speak…but as her eyes come into focus, he sees…there’s this glint there, like a spark, and he’s…he’s afraid anything he says might…

So he doesn’t speak when she takes his hand and leads him up the stairs. Or when she locks the door of their room and starts tugging at the straps of his armor. He helps her get the black metal off, and then they kiss as it hits the floor.

She unstraps his iron arm as his head lowers, as he kisses her hair, his hand rising to touch her waist, to slip under her shirt, brush her back. She drops the prosthetic on the floor and looks up at him, then her hands are at his hips and she yanks off his shirt in a single motion.

Then she shoves him backwards until he hits the bed, falling backwards, and he starts to say something—but when he looks at her, her eyes are locked on him, and she yanks off his pants, leaving him naked.

Guts sits up and tries to pull at her shirt, but she steps back…so he leans back and watches her, breathing heavily, as her arms move pull her shirt over her head. She loosens her pants, lets them fall, and she’s…

She climbs onto him, kissing him, and that glint is her eyes is still there as he falls back, her mouth is hungry against his, he can feel…her…

But…

He’s flat on his back now, and her face is so intent above him, and where she touches him feels so good. When he reaches for her, she pushes his hand down, so he doesn’t…

That spark in her eyes is so beautiful, so powerful, and she’s been so…

He cries out when he feels himself inside her. Hisses, suppressing a shout, when she rocks forward, her knees firm on the bed beside him. Her eyes fluttering closed.

He wants to…

She opens her eyes, looks at him—then closes them, pushing roughly against him again.

He clenches his teeth and moves, pushes himself upwards, against her. Feels her push back, feels something like a rhythm start to…

Maybe…

Her hand clenches around his wrist.

She leans forward, her eyes still closed, and pins his arm above his head.

And…he remembers…

He clenches his fist and breathes deeply, trying, failing, to focus his gaze as…as he starts to feel…

When Casca looks at Guts again, she sees a terrible expression on his face. Halfway between fear and fury.

Full of desperate…

She freezes. “Guts?”

He sits up abruptly, leaning forward, shaking her hand off his wrist. She tosses herself to the side to keep from falling off of the bed.

He stops on the edge of the mattress, his back to her, his body shaking. He’s breathing so heavily it’s like he’s…running.

His face is in his hand, his elbows on his knees.

Neither of them speak.

After a few moments, Casca reaches over and picks up the blanket that’s been left folded at the end of the bed. She scoots forward, and presses the blanket to his right shoulder.

Guts flinches. But doesn’t react, otherwise.

So she drapes the blanket around his shoulder. Then, she pulls it around over her own shoulders. Presses against his back, and pulls it around him too.

She leans her head forward, against his left shoulder. He doesn’t flinch away from her.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “That was…too much.”[1]

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Cas, I—”

“Guts,” she says, quietly but firmly. “I,” her eyes close in pain, “understand.”

He doesn’t turn to look at her.

But his hand slowly begins to fall. Fall away from, she realizes, pressing against his right eye.[2]

She remembers, a moment ago, her hand on his wrist…remembers what he had said, thought of, when…[3]

Her eyes close. Then open.

She props her chin on his shoulder.

“Guts,” she says, “What was the last thing you saw with your right eye?”

He doesn’t answer her.

She nudges his body with her forehead, and he sways like a tree in the wind.

“Tell me,” she says quietly, “please.”

His head twitches, slightly—towards her.

“I…” she whispers, “I heard you scream. That’s…the last thing I really heard for a long time.”

She closes her eyes, presses her forehead to his shoulder. “Tell me.”

He breathes out, deep and long.

“You fell,” Guts whispers, “and he…looked at me…”[4]

They’re both silent.

Casca moves her chin back to his shoulder, looking at his face.

She can see tears flowing freely from his eye. Just like then.[5]

She closes her own eyes. She feels Guts’ warm skin against her. Feels her own body. Her skin, her hair, her muscles, which are still shuddering from the recent use she’d put them to.

And she feels the strength, the power that had unexpectedly built up inside her today, a flame fanned by…by fear, and by her own pain…but power nonetheless.

With this inside her, she feels like she can do anything. Face anything.

And reach anyone. However she wills.

“I can tell you that it’s not your fault,” she says quietly. Her right hand reaches up, and she touches the back of Guts’ neck. “This,” her fingers brush the brand, and he jumps a little. “What happened,” she whispers, “to them, our friends. What happened…to Gambino.”

Guts’ head moves back a little in surprise at the last word. She lays her cheek against his shoulder.

“What your father did to you,” she continues, very quietly, feeling his muscles stiffen against her skin. “And then,” her fingers run again over his brand, “what he…” she almost chokes, “did,” she continues determinedly, “to me.”

She feels Guts start to moves. She presses her cheek harder against him, her hands, her fingers digging into him—and feels him freeze.

“Not being able,” she whispers, “to stop it. Any of it.”

She moves to lean her forehead against his back.

“I can tell you that, and it’d be true, Guts.”

“But you wouldn’t believe me, would you?”

He doesn’t move or speak.

Casca sits up on her knees, grabs the edge of the blanket, and wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly.

She cranes her head left to catch his eye. But he doesn’t look at her, even as her body tightens around him.

“So, instead,” she says, “I’m going to forgive you.”

And finally, his eye fixes on her.

His face changes, from hard and determined—to stunned.

Casca smiles just a little, and sits up slightly.

“I forgive you,” she whispers in his ear.

“For all of it.”

“What they did. The reasons they did it. And…” her head draws back, and she meets his eye, “And for what you didn’t do. And for what you did, Guts, because of it.”

“I forgive you. For it all.”

Guts shakes his head—but he doesn’t pull away from her.

“Cas…” he whispers, “ah…all? You…some of what I did, you shouldn’ ever—”

“I remember,” she interrupts, “What you did perfectly well, Guts.”[6]

Her left hand is on the end of his left stump.

She’s running her fingers over the scar tissue.

“I remember what you did to me,” she says, with only a small tremor in her voice.

And she remembers…remembers the metal left hand that had pinned her wrist…

Then released it.

She meets his wide-eyed gaze firmly.

“I remember that you stopped.”

“And then you got up. And you cleaned me up. And nothing like that ever happened again. Because you decided that it wouldn’t. And then, you never did anything, anything like that, ever again. And then, you did everything you could, so that I would…feel safe.”

She smiles. “You’re not very good at being a beast, you know.”

He winces, then closes his eye. “I could’ve…”

She presses her hand to his right cheek, and he opens his eye, sees her looking at him with a wide and intent gaze.

“When you could have, you didn’t.”

“That is also who you are.”

He looks at her…and she can see everything in that look. All his pain, and…and a seed of surprise. Of longing. Hope.

She moves forward, keeping her right arm wrapped around him. He draws his left arm in, and now she’s leaning forward, facing him, her body warm between the blanket and his flesh.

Then she raises her left hand, and gently touches the right side of his face. Her fingers brush his right eyelid.

He takes a deep breath, but doesn’t shy away—and so she carefully lifts his right eyelid.

Reveals the ruin beneath.[7]

He winces as he feels the skin stretch, but he doesn’t stop her. Doesn’t look away, as her gaze focuses to the right of what he is able to see.

She is still for long moments.

Then, she says, “You saw him make me into a thing. And…and I became one.” Casca whispers the last part so quietly, he holds his breath to hear her.

“Not even a thing…” she continues, bitterness in her voice, “A half-person, a…a child, at best. The girls said that when they found my ego in the Corridor of Dreams, saw my sense of self—it was a doll, Guts, a broken doll.[8]”

Her fingers release his eyelid, and stroke his face, her eyes wide.

He leans into her touch, but doesn’t take his gaze from her face.

“But that’s not all of who I am, either,” she says, her voice catching a little, but not halting. “Because you,” her gaze focuses on his good side, “you still saw more than that.”

“When I was barely more than nothing, you…” Her fingers cup his right cheek, “you reached into this darkness, this darkness that had already devoured your eye along with the me that you loved, the me who had loved you, and you…you gave me your hand.”

She slowly lowers her left hand from his face, and rests it on the end of his stump.

She looks down at what’s left of his arm.

“I know you only had one,” her voice is quiet.

She looks back up at him. “And I couldn’t hold onto you.”

“Not then.”

He closes his eye in pain, for an instant—and then opens it, again, quickly. As if afraid.

She smiles gently. “But you didn’t let go,” she whispers. “Not completely. Not even when I clawed and screamed and tore at both your eyes.”

“And because of you, of that—other things too, Guts, but all built on a foundation of that—the doll?” She shakes her head, “It didn’t stay the only thing I thought I was. Could be.”

The woman named Casca lays her head against Gut’s shoulder again, her cheek pressing to his skin.

“Thank you.”

He swallows.

“I,” she repeats, “forgive you.”

Her arms tighten around his torso.

He crumples.

He turns and falls against her, and lays his head on her shoulder.

And she holds him, and he cries. He cries as he hasn’t since…since the day he woke to the nightmare wreckage of his life and heart and soul.[9]

She doesn’t let him go.

[1] Casca’s aggressive (overcompensating) behavior here mirrors Guts in V9 E46.

[2] This echoes Guts’ posture after his flashback in V17 E130.

[3] V9 E47

[4] See V17 E130

[5] The following scenes heavily draw on the plot details and characterizations in V9 E46-47 and V10 E48

[6] Casca’s talking about the events of V23 E190

[7] This is unsupported by anything at all in the text I’m afraid: we never get a hint at what’s under Guts’ closed right eyelid. I’m assuming here that it’s some sort of super ugly remains of eyelid and skull cavity and scar, and that the reason his eyelid remains closed is that it was damaged when his eye was put out. I figure he can’t move the eyelid because we see him wake up suddenly and act reflexively several times, and the eyelid doesn’t open.

[8] Broken doll refers to V39 E348.

[9] V13 E90.

Chapter Text

When Guts stops, as his breath evens, he finally pulls back and turns his head to look at Casca properly.

She cups his face in her hands, and very gently she moves her head forward, pulls him towards her. And she kisses, very softly, his right eye.

As she pulls back, he moves his face up and catches her mouth with his. They kiss deeply, and he twists his body to face her.

He breaks away, but stays close to her. He breathes her air in, deeply, feeling it fill his lungs.

“Thank you,” he says.

She just smiles. Kisses him again.

As they pause for breath, he brings his hand up to cup her face.

“Cas,” he says huskily, “do you remember what you said, back then, about…lickin’ wounds?[1]”

She nods a little, confusion in her eyes.

“I…” Guts swallows. “I thought this” he runs his hand down her arm, “was ruined, that night, an’…an’ then, again, that winter. Because I hadn’t been able to jus’…put all that…” He shudders, his eye closing, “aside, or forget it. But…but I couldn’t make it not matter, and I…I hurt you, tryin’ to.”

His eye opens. “But, that first night…you were so…” his fingertips run down her cheek, and she smiles at his wondering expression. “With you, there was…somethin’ on the far side of not forgettin’, of just bein’…somethin’ I never coulda…”

Her right hand is on his cheek. He leans against it.

“Casca, I…I feel like the things we haven’ forgotten’ll always be waitin’, hangin’ between us, an’…an’ as long as that’s the case, we’ll never be able to jus’…” his hand runs up her arm, resting on her shoulder,[2] “be, like this…until...unless…” he shakes his head, his eye closing. “There’re just’ so many wounds now, Cas…”

Her hands grow firm on the sides of his face, stilling his head, and he looks at her.

Her eyes are full of tears, but intent.

“Licking wounds,” she says, taking a deep breath, “is still good enough for me. And I…” her eyes close, “I don’t want to…to feel like we…” she shakes her head, “There was so much…so much we, if we don’t…so much we have to avoid, worry about, if we don’t…”

She bends her head forward, hair against his chest.

Her eyes fall downward, and she gazes at her own body…

Then suddenly, she looks up at Guts. “Are you sure you’ll be…” her voice fades out a little at the end, “okay?”

He feels like his heart will break.

He nods over the lump in his throat.

Casca doesn’t stop looking concerned. But she moves her gaze downward, again. Looks at their bodies, facing each other on the bed. Their legs are at awkward angles, their bodies are naked yet barely touching. And she just…just begins to think about…about everything that had happened to this body that is now…What if…

Her eyes fall on the end of Guts’ left arm.

She remembers…

She reaches both hands out, slowly, and wraps them around his arm’s flat ending.

She brings it towards her. And presses her lips to the irregular circle that marks its end.

She feels Guts shudder, even though the skin here must be dead.

She leaves her right hand on his arm as she sits up on her knees, too fast for him to do more than watch her. She stops when her face is level with Guts’ forehead, and she presses her lips against the patch of white hair.

Then she moves lower. Very gently, she tugs up his right eyelid again—and touches her lips to the ruin there.

She draws back, releasing the lid, but leaves her hand touching his right eye. Her other hand resting on his ruined arm.

He’s gazing at her like she’s a miracle.

And she feels deep in her soul—she can, they can survive these wounds. Survive anything.

“Okay,” she says quietly.

Guts blinks, then swallows. “We…” he takes a deep breath. “Jus’ tell me ‘no’,” he says firmly, “an’ I will stop.”

Casca smiles, a little sadly. “I believe you.” She kisses him lightly. “I trust you.”

He slowly, carefully, eases her backward, hand behind her to support her, until she’s lying on the bed. Until he’s over her again.

He swallows, pulling back from her a little. “Okay?”

She inhales deeply, her fingers running up his chest. “You’re so warm,” she whispers.[3] He feels her start to shudder, her eyelids growing heavy—then her palms flatten on him, and her eyes open wide.

She looks at him, and he sees, again, that strange, glorious spark he’d seen before—but she also looks so…so achingly vulnerable…

“Keep…” she swallows, “keep touching me.”

He lowers his body onto his elbows, incrementally descends until as much of their skin is touching as is possible, his legs against hers, his stomach, everything. “Like this?” he breathes, focusing on her face.

Casca nods. “Yeah.”

Her hands reach for his face, then move upward and bury in his hair.

They breathe against each other.

Her eyes are full of…

She nods.

Guts takes a deep breath, his eye growing unfocused, and…

And he lets himself remember horror.

Remember watching a cold, clawed hand, touching…

His fist clenches in the sheet of the bed.

Then he looks at Casca’s face, at her eyes.

Sees her fear. And her trust…

Everythin’ you’ve seen of me…given me by seein’…

He has to try.

His head moves.

The tip of that first finger that Griffith had touched her with,[4] it’d been right…

Guts presses his lips high on Casca’s cheek.

He traces his way down her chin, and moves along the path of the hand that had once clenched itself around her face. Moves very, very gently…

He hears her sigh, just a little…

I remember, he looks down now, at her right shoulder, every single…invisible wound…

He follows his pain, his remembered terror, and finds…

Hers.

His lips press against her warm skin. A little in front of her shoulder. Right where Griffith had bitten her.

As he moves, Casca shifts so that Guts can continue upward, around. So that he can touch the back of her shoulder, too.

He looks at her face. Her eyes are fixed on him, and he can feel, in her hands, in her body…

He lowers his gaze, and gently kisses her back. Then holds still, his face against her skin.

He feels her shudder…then relax.

Her eyes, when he meets them again, are nervous. But determined. Full of…

He takes a deep breath, then moves down her body, feeling her fingers intertwine and clench in his hair.

And he remembers everything, everything that had happened to her, to him, every terrible moment of fear and helplessness and anguish, but…

But she tastes so wonderful…

And her fingers clench but don’t pull at him, and he finds every single place, that Griffith had hurt her, here, and he moves his lips and tongue over those places, over her skin, softly, so very softly, until he reaches the center of her breast, and he lowers his head, and then…

He hears her cry out, and one of her hands leaves his hair. He looks up at her, sees her hand is by her face, that she’s…gently biting her own fingers…

He remembers, by the waterfall that first night, how she had done just that…when she felt…[5]

He moves up toward her. And when she opens her eyes, he begins to lower his head.

She pulls her hand away…

And they kiss.

Eyes open.

Gazes soft.

Her free hand tenderly cradles his face…

He pulls his lips from hers, then grazes his forehead against hers.

And then he moves down again, kisses her brand, his face lingering, then down again, towards her other…

He freezes.

The motions of his body…it’s just like…

He remembers the cold bite of winter air[6]…

And then Casca’s warm hand is pressing against his cheek.

He looks up at her. And in her eyes, he sees…

She smiles at him, a little, and there are tears in the corners of her eyes.

Then her hand in his hair presses down.

He doesn’t resist it.

And he doesn’t stop touching her again.

As he continues, he leaves his hand flat on the sheet next to them. So they can both focus on…

And he moves over her body, his eye wide open, and he traces the path of pain.

If…if I can ever give you…anythin’…it’d be some fraction of that balm, that you gave me. An’…an’ I’m the only one who…

And so, very gently, he kisses her body, again and again. And each place that he had helplessly watched Griffith fondle and clutch, each place on Casca’s body that had been made painful, frightening, that had been loaded with a bomb of horror beneath her skin—Guts remembers every single fragmented moment of violation of the woman he loved.

And he finds each of those terrible places himself. Hears his own demons screaming…

Feels Casca’s warmth. Her hands in his hair. Her heart beating beneath her skin, so close, her blood pumping through her body, so…human…

And each desecrated part of her, he touches.

As softly as he can…

And as he presses his lips to her skin, again, and again, he hears her breath.

Going in, sharply.

Out, softly.

He focuses on the warmth of her soft skin.

And he doesn’t stop.

Casca doesn’t take her eyes off Guts. He looks at her, then at her body, and then again at her. Each time he meets her gaze again, she sees in his eye…in his beautiful, scarred face…

And, as she feels his touch on her skin, on each sector of the unchanged geography of her body…

She remembers…

Coldness. Hardness against her flesh, distorting her as she tried to…

Eyes, that wanted…wanted her to feel pain and violation.

So that…so that this man, here, who is with her now, would suffer…

This man, who is still…

He…

It had killed her, then, to know that she wasn’t alone. To know that, along with her, because of her…to know that the anguish devouring her from the inside out was also being inflicted on the person she most wanted to be healed…the person who…who would not look away…

But, now…

Because, in spite of everything, this man wants her to…

He’s choosing to go back, with her. Every time his lips touch her skin, both of them are feeling this flush of pain, together, and…and when he looks at her…

There’s pain in his eye.

But also love.

And simple kindness. The opposite of…

And then the only thing she can feel is his warmth on her skin.

The memories call, but…she’s not carrying them alone.

And…and when she looks past the memory, and feels her body, now…her body, the same body that had so powerlessly absorbed all that pain and degradation…

She feels Guts touching her, now, and…and it feels so…wonderful…

The memories rise. She sees them—and then, from the other side, from the present, pleasure calls her.

She just has to follow it. To look at Guts, her fingers entwined in his hair, and feel.

And as Guts moves down her body, the memories seem to weaken…he kisses her legs, her thighs…and nothing, nothing has ever felt so…

He finally pulls away from her skin, his head hovering over her center.

He doesn’t take his eye from hers.

Casca’s face, her body, fills with feeling, tears welling up in her eyes.[7]

She extends her left hand. He catches it with his right. And she nods.

And then…

Before, the painful memories, drawn by overlap of experiences, had risen, then fallen…

But this…

This is different, this is unlike anything she’s ever…

She can sense, somewhere in her mind, cruel memories trying to claim her. And then, vanishing. Like tiny candle flames, extinguished by this wild fire she can feel growing inside her…

Her back arches and she calls out Guts’ name, clinging to his hair and hand…

“There!” she cries, as she feels his tongue brush, again, that place that had banished everything. “There…”

He bends his head to that place, and she lets out a sob as…

It feels like liquid warmth is radiating from her where he touches her, flowing and spreading through her insides…

When she looks down, she sees him watching her.

For an instant, everything is still.

And then Casca knows what she wants, in spite of the pain it’s going to…

She tugs at him.

His eye widens.

Then he lets her pull him up to her, over her, and she feels him shift to mold his skin to hers all over.

He bends his elbows, interlaces the fingers of his one hand with hers, and gazes only at her.

Guts feels her free hand move, below, between them…

She wraps her palm around him, breathing deeply, looking only at his face. And then, she guides him to where she’s most…

He inhales, and thrusts all the way inside her in a single motion.

He sees her fear rise. Her face freezes.

He holds absolutely still, ready to throw himself off her.

“Casca,” he says, voice pitched low and deep.

“Casca.”

She blinks. Slowly. Once. Then again.

He feels her fingers moving a little, the ones in his hands and the ones still between them.

She raises her head, touching the end of her nose to his.

He leans his forehead against hers.

Her eyes are wide open.

“Guts,” she whispers, and he pushes against her.

She moans, and…he feels her hand move, realizes she’s pressing her fingers to that place, the one that his touching earlier had made her almost scream…

He wishes for a moment that he still had his left hand, to press it to her there, now…

Then, he realizes that if he did, he would be holding her other hand.

There’s only this.

He thrusts against her again, again, her body meeting his, shaking, trembling, more and….

He feels something happening inside him, but he focuses on her, bends his body a little and rocks his hips and hears an answering sharper moan—he feels her fingers bending between them, pressing more, so he moves again, just like before, and her eyes are flickering slits and her breath is rough as she gasps, “Yes, yes—” So he does it one more time, and her back arches, her hand and everything else in her body clenching around him, shuddering.

And he cries out, buries his face in her neck and lets himself go inside her, her body moving within, around him, as if demanding he do just that…

He almost collapses beside her, breath heaving through him.

She’s still twitching occasionally, but after a moment she turns her head to look at him, and her gaze meets his…

Without any sorrow or fear.

He reaches up, and gently touches her chin. Kisses her softly.

He can, he finds, remember exactly the last time he felt so at peace.

She sits up, grabs the blanket, and pulls it over both of them. He wraps his arm around her beneath it.

They fall asleep like that, her head tucked below his chin, their arms draped over one another.

Neither wakes before dawn.

[1] Licking wounds is V10 E47

[2] This is a references to V9 E46, as Guts is talking about the curse of the battlefield

[3] So in case you didn’t get it (I’m not Miura, I have to be more blunt): Griffith’s external body is a sort of carapace which, it can be inferred, was very cold.

[4] Yes I checked the details, see V13 E86-87. Much of this scene references those episodes.

[5] V9 E46-47

[6] V23 E190

[7] This draws from the final page, panel 3, of V9 E47

Chapter Text

Guts doesn’t move when he wakes. Not at first. Not even to open his eye. He stays exactly as he is, feeling her breathe against him.

He knows Casca’s awake when her fingers twitch. Their hands are clasped, resting on his chest.

When he opens his eye at last, she’s looking at him, her chin propped up his body. He can’t see her face clearly, though, in the glare of morning light through the window.

“Guts,” she says quietly, and he unthinkingly braces himself.

Then her face moves closer to him, and his eye finally adjusts to the light…

And he sees that she’s smiling.

“Guts,” she whispers, coming nearer, “that last thing you did…”

Her hand holds his tightly, and their fingers curling against each other.

Her lips are brushing against his now…

“Do it again,” she whispers.

Guts pulls her close. Smiles as they kiss.

---------

When they arrive downstairs, everyone’s talking quickly and eating at speed. Schierke spots them first and hurries over. “Danaan just departed—she said to let you two rest a bit longer, but…the flow of time, it has shifted again. It is now faster outside, slower, on the island.[1]”

“Thus, the Falcon’s attack will come today.”

They both stare at her. Then Guts turns and starts towards the door.

Casca grabs his armor’s cape and he almost falls over.

“Food!” she snaps at him. “Get some, then go.”

He doesn’t say anything, just makes for the meal table and tosses a few things apparently random foodstuffs onto a napkin. He wraps it and tucks it into his iron elbow, turns around.

He sees Casca standing by the table where Farnesse and Serpico are sitting both on the edge of their seats.

You’ll be headin’ for the village, Guts thinks, eye still on Casca. You can make last-minute plans there, an’ give orders about how to counter his strategies. Me, I’ll be wherever the fighting’s thickest…hopefully far away from you. ‘Til…

Guts takes one last, long look. Then heads for the door.

And almost trips when a vise clenches unmovably around his right wrist.

He turns and Casca’s there, and she reaches up to put her hands around his head, to drag him down, and then she kisses him, fiercely.

She pulls back, and looks at him, her eyes steady.

“See you later,” she says.

He nods, taking in the sight of her. Not wanting to say anything to change the moment.

And then he turns and walks out.

---------

Of course, he hears Isidro following him within seconds. It’s not as if the kid, or Puck, is trying to stay quiet.

“Isidro,” Guts says, and the boy trots up to walk beside him.

Guts looks down at the boy, not slowing his pace. Isidro jogs to keep up.

“Haven’t taught you much,” Guts observes, “since I got this,” he raps the armor with his knuckles.[2]

Isidro shrugs. “I learn plenty from watchin’.”

Guts snorts. They both know it’s a lie: no one can fight like Guts does when he wears the armor.

“Isidro,” he says quietly, “I wan’ you do to do me a favor.”

Isidro’s eyebrows rise.

“Watch Casca’s back for her, all right?”

Isidro stares up at Guts, but doesn’t respond.

“It ain’t safe for me to do it,” Guts continues, face set and fist clenching. Then he looks down and meets Isidro’s gaze. “I know Farnesse’ll try, but she’s no fighter. That means Serpico’ll be watchin’ out for both of ‘em, an’ that’s no good.”

Isidro’s eyes narrow. “You tryin’ ta get ridda me?” There’s hurt in his voice…and maybe shame, too.

Guts stops abruptly, so Isidro has to skid to a halt and wheel around to look at him. Gut’s face is calm, and the tiniest bit…

“That really what you think?”

Isidro looks at the ground. Puck is quiet on his head.

“Casca’s fightin’ style is better for you ‘n mine,” says Guts. “She targets weak points, so raw strength isn’t an issue, an’ uses her size to her advantage to cut much stronger opponents down.”

Isidro doesn’t look up.

Guts sighs. “When it’s time for somethin’ to be done, it’s time,” he says quietly. “No use fightin’ that. Trust me.”

Isidro still refuses to look up, keeping Guts from seeing the tears in his eyes.

Guts abruptly steps forward, laying his hand on Isidro’s hair and crushing it flat, just missing Puck as the elf darts away.

Puck doesn’t complain.

Isidro is standing against Guts’ leg and stomach. It’s almost like…a hug.

Then Guts is gone, striding into the trees, tearing off a bite of bread from his bundle of food.

Isidro stands alone until Guts vanishes, breathing heavily.

Then Puck lands on his head, and the Isidro jumps.

What’m I doin’? he thinks, wiping his eyes. He turns and heads towards the village.[3] I got somewhere ta be!

---------

“That’s a knife,” Gut says dubiously.

“A short sword,” retorts Hanaar. “One that can cut through od, by the way. Difficult bloody task to make it in time, too.”

Guts sighs. “Sorry,” he says, returning the knife to its sheath. “Thank you, master smith.”

The dwarf snorts, clearly unimpressed. “One thing,” he says, folding his arms. “With this blade, you’ll need to make sure the God Hand fellow is in his true form. Otherwise, you’ll just be poking holes in his skin.”

Guts looks at him sharply. “How do I get him in his true form?”

“You know his magical, true name?”[4] Guts nods. “Yell it at ‘im,” says the smith, shrugging. “Wouldn’t bet on it letting you control him, like with an elf or a merrow[5]—but if he’s not expecting it, he should revert automatically to his true form.”

Guts grins. There’s hunger in his smile.

---------

When Isidro reaches the village, he has to fight to weave through the panicking mages without getting swept up and carried off. Everyone’s running in and out of houses with their arms full of books and other nonsense, heading the way he’s coming from, towards the great Cherry Tree.

Must be evacuatin’, case the fight winds up here, he thinks. A bunch of witches are darting around up above on their brooms, shouting messages to each other in some kind of relay.

As he gets clear of the mass of running mages, he barely dodges a lumbering wicker man. He swears he can hear faint screaming from its torso…but it ignores him, trudging onward in the direction of the shore.

Isidro stares after it for a moment. He knows that if he goes that way, he’ll find Roderick, Azan, and Isma. Roderick’ll be circling the island with Azan and the merrows, bombarding enemies from the sea and keeping watch in case any of the Falcon’s forces try to sneak around and attack from a second direction.

Isidro thinks for a moment of Isma in those waters. She’d kissed his forehead yesterday, when she’d said goodbye…

He heads into the main hall.

Danaan must be off guarding the Tree. Casca’s easy to find: she’s right in the middle of everything, deep in conversation with those old gurus they’d met before. But she looks up when Isidro’s close, and she smiles.

“What’re you up to, then?” she asks with false cheerfulness.

Isidro takes a firm fighting stance. “Here to watch your back,” he says gruffly.

For a moment, feelings flicker over Casca’s face: fear, sorrow, joy. Determination.

Then she nods, sharp, her smile gone.

“Get to it then, soldier.”

---------

[1] Remember, as established in V41 E364, the flow of time is “vague” on the island.

[2] Guts used to teach Isidro stuff, that was sort of the point of Isidro being there at all, see V18 E141, V19 E145, and V23 E196, V24 E197

[3] The village was seen in V39 E344

[4] As seen in V13 E86

[5] V36 E324

Chapter Text

Farnesse hates this feeling.

All around her, people are shouting, moving, relaying instructions, packing up creates, and more. Casca is alternately shouting orders or bending down to consult with the gurus. Schierke is flying in and out, bringing messages from scouts.

And Farnesse is sitting in a corner with Serpico. Wallowing in her own uselessness.[1]

She is still a bare novice at magic, really, only able to perform the simplest spells. There are children, actual children in the village who can do more than her.

She clenches her fists.

“Lady Farnesse” says Serpico quietly, “it would be prudent for you to retreat to—”

“No,” she hisses fiercely. She runs a hand over her magical vines.[2] “If it comes to it, I can at least help a bit!”

Serpico sighs a little, and falls silent. Either he is reverting to old habits, Farnesse thinks, or…he doesn’t think that here, we’ll really need to…

Farnesse studies her white knuckles.

She has always, from that first night, known her role in a fight. She’s resisted it sometimes, but always returned to it in the end: she protects Casca.[3]

And she’s saved Casca (often from herself) probably dozens of times. It’s what Farnesse is for, at moments like these.

But now…

She looks at Casca, who is standing the center of the room. The most useful person on the island.

She can’t repress a surge of jealousy.

She looks down for a moment, ashamed.

And when she peeks back up, Casca is gazing at her.

The other woman smiles, gently, and Farnesse tries to smile back.

Casca turns to say something to the other people around the table, then vaults over the back of her bench and trots over to Farnesse.

A moment later, Farnesse finds herself enveloped in a warm hug.

“I’m so glad to see you,” says Casca. She draws back, meets Farnesse’s eyes. “You still make me feel safe.”

Farnesse looks down at her feet. “I’m…but I’m so useless…”[4]

Casca shakes her shoulders, roughly, and Farnesse looks up at her in surprise. The other woman has a fierce look on her face.

“No, you are not,” Casca says, forceful.

Farnesse stares at her.

“Everyone,” continues Casca, “has different skills and uses. That’s not the same thing as being useless.”[5]

Farnesse doesn’t feel convinced, but she manages a half-smile.

Casca throws a look over her shoulder. “I have to get back,” she says, turning to Farnesse and Serpico again. “You two, stay right here. We’re going to cover Guts’ retreat when the time comes, got it?”

They both nod, looking a bit surprised at her tone.

Casca kisses Farnesse’s forehead, then leaves.

---------

When the vanguard of the Band of the Falcon charges from the standing stones,[6] they meet no resistance. All they find are empty rolling hills, a forest in one direction, the sea in the other.

“Huh,” says an apostle, “I thought—”

“Down!” shouts Zodd, too late for the other apostle, which screams. A plant-thing has flown from the forest at astonishing speed and begun to devour him.

The incoming apostles scatter as they leave the stone arch, besieged and unable to transform out of the human shapes the took to fit along the magical route here.

Then the Hunter emerges, takes position facing the woods, and begins to let fly.[7]

---------

“Shit,” Casca says, looking at the scrying. “I figured they’d have something like that, but hoped we’d pick off more first.”

Isidro is leaning over the table along with the four gurus, Schierke, and Casca, all watching the magical view of the battlefield. The hall is mostly empty now, and Farnesse and Serpico have come to stand near the table as well.

“How come you left up those stones?” demands Isidro.

 “It was worth it to be able to control their entry position,” answers Thrainn. “Otherwise, while travelling via the world tree and exiting from the nearest branch may have delayed them a bit, they could have plotted their entry more subtly and prevented us from anticipating where to establish our defenses.”

Isidro winces as he watches the scrying. “That apostle’s like a cannon—with just arrows!”

“He has already destroyed most of the spelled attacks we set,” says Skirbil.

“And,” says Thrainn as apostles spill out of the stones at an even faster rate, “it is as you predicted, honorable Casca.”

“What?” asks Isidro.

“The Falcon has not yet emerged,” says Ged. “He must be waiting just within the stones after leading his army here. If he had emerged by now, we may have been able to break the stone passageway and cut him off from his remaining forces. But if we do that now, he will merely regroup and take another route here.”

Casca’s eyes haven’t left the scrying.

“Schierke,” she says quietly.

The young witch nods, climbing onto her broom and whizzing away.

“What’s she—” asks Isidro. But a guru shushes him, gesturing at the scrying.

Out of the trees emerge a series of blazing Wicker Men. Dozens of them, hemming in the approaching army…but…from this angle, above, something looks…

“They ain’t all real, are they?” he asks.

“Many are illusory,” agrees Ginnar.

“So, you’re usin’ them to drive the apostles where you want ‘em to go?”

Casca nods, her fists clenching tight enough to shake as her eyes stay fixed on the scrying. When Isidro looks at it again, he sees a final figure, all in white, has emerged from the stones.

Puck suddenly flies off of Isidro’s head and lands on Casca’s shoulder.

She jumps and looks at him. The elf’s face is full of concern.

She softens. “I’m fine,” she says, and glances towards Farnesse.

Isidro yelps. “They’re chargin’ right in—an’ those men they’re killin’ ain’t illusions!”

Thrainn smiles.

Casca gives a satisfied smile. “Thank you,” she says formally, bowing her head toward Ged. “You were able to execute perfectly what I described.”

Isidro looks from one to the other. “Eh?”

“It was obvious,” says Thrainn, “that we had laid a trap to drive them to the eastern edge of the forest. To ensure they did this, we concentrated the real wicker men,” he points at the place where the apostles are entering the trees, “before this section of the forest. The Falcon discerned that our true purpose was to deflect him from this approach, and so he targeted it.”

Isidro squints at the scrying. “Hey, that looks kinda familiar…”

“It should,” says Ged. “It is the path that leads here.”

---------

Schierke flies lower, skimming over the ground.

Guts is walking between the houses, on the side of the village opposite the guru’s hall. His sword is propped on his shoulder.

He looks up as Schierke approaches, a witch on either side of her. She lands beside him.

“Ready?” he asks. She nods, a bead of sweat just visible on her face. They can already hear the crashes and shouts as the apostles fight the guardian trees.[8]

Guts grins. “Sounds like everyone hates fightin’ in a forest, even that lot.”

“Indeed,” echoes a voice behind them. They turn to see the Skeleton Knight astride his horse. He pauses beside them, and looks at Guts.

“I shall—”

“Fight Zodd, like before,”[9] finishes Guts. “Yeah, sure, I got the rest.”

The Skeleton Knight gives him a dour look, then his horse leaps toward the trees.

The shouts are growing closer now. Like Casca predicated, they all sound a bit inhuman, which mean Griffith has only brought apostles with him. After all, fighting on a magic island isn’t a place where ordinary humans stand much of a chance.

Guts listens to the shouting for a moment, gauging the distance, then turns to Schierke. “Let’s go.”

---------

“The village?” says Isidro, horrified.

Casca nods grimly. “It was always indefensible against apostles. That gorge[10] is nothing to them, they can easily jump it or drop trees over it.”

Thrainn murmurs his agreement. “Our village is uncontestably the weakest entry point of the island, the best way to reach Elfhelm.”

Ged stands, looking at the other three gurus. “Gentlemen?”

The others mimic him, and the four march to the hall’s exit nearest the village. When they reach the foot of the stairs out, each heads in a different direction.

Casca gazes up at the glorious beauty of the hall, then turns to the others. “We go this way,” she says, leading them towards the far door, in the direction of the Elfhelm.

---------

Guts kneels, eye on the tree line. Schierke climbs onto his back, and then, as quickly as always, the armor begins to cover Guts’ skin and face, the cloak convulsing and drawing inward…

Schierke breathes deeply, closing her eyes and descending into her trance state. She feels her physical body lean against the armor, steels her mind to stand against the mighty od within it—

Then she screams.

Once.

Her astral form is hurled backward, into her body, and both collapse onto the earth.[11]

And the helmet clamps down and covers Guts’ face. Forming the visage of a beast. Untamed.

The other witches bend over Schierke, voices rising in panic, and they drag her back. She’s still in her body, they can all see, and they know that isn’t where she’s supposed to be…

The Berserker bolts towards the wall of apostles emerging from the forest, sword swinging, howling in ecstasy.[12]

---------

[1] This is echoing V23 E196

[2] Farnesse was given these in V30 E261, and has used them several times since.

[3] The main time this is noticeable is in V23 E196, although it’s in the background after that several times.

[4] V23 E196 again.

[5] Casca is echoing a sentiment from V33 E290

[6] Standing stones travel as seen in V40 E357

[7] This is of course Irving, acting as seen in V32 E280

[8] Seen in V39 E344.

[9] When the shit goes down, most of what Skull Knight does is fight Zodd, as seen in V12 E79, V20 E165, V26 E223, and a bit in V34 E304.

[10] Seen briefly in V39 E344.

[11] This extends on Schierke’s escalating struggle to control the armor as seen in V36 E316 and 318

[12] The word ecstasy is chosen because of V18 E142

Chapter Text

Casca pauses at the top of the hill over the village, stopping ahead of the tree line. The view down toward the battlefield is obscured by tree-houses, but as Isidro slows he sees that Casca’s halted at a faint line gouged in the earth.

She turns to see the village. Isidro takes up a position at her side, and Serpico and Farnesse reach the hilltop and turn as well.

There are flashes of movement visible between the houses, now. Small explosions echo up to them, followed by inhuman screams—the departing mages left many traps when they abandoned their homes.

A small apostle, like a six-legged monkey, suddenly crashes through the foliage behind them. It must have hit the ground faster than it expected, because when it lands on its back it hesitates for fatal seconds. The three fighters dismember it before it can resist.

Isidro sees Casca kick it to check it’s dead. Probably that’s why she did it. But… there’s something ugly in her eyes.

She takes a step back, watching unflinchingly as spirits explode from the corpse, devouring it.

Isidro swallows nervously, resisting the urge to run from the awful spectacle. “Casca?”

She looks up at him, and her face clears.

“They,” she explains quietly, “destroyed my Band of the Falcon.” She looks at the human corpse left by the spirits, a sunken-eyed middle-aged man. An emblem of a falcon is pinned to his chest.

“Now, he’s…” she shakes her head, closing her eyes. “I…I can’t understand how he could be so…” she whispers.

Isidro has no idea what to say.  

“Guts!” cries Farnesse, “I see him!”

Casca and Isidro turn in time to glimpse a flash of black between two houses. A second later, a tree explodes in flame. A crystal dragon appears and knocks it down, spewing fire in every direction, writhing in death throes as it obliterates the beautiful structure.

The tree keeps falling, collapses the roof of a neighboring building. Racing down the falling tree, leaping across the roof just before it’s destroyed, they see him. A whirling, terrifying, beautiful figure, a man if a man were a beast. A group of apostles are starting forward through a gap in the houses, and Guts leaps among them without hesitation, sword singing.

In spite of his fearsomeness, Casca’s so relieved to see him she almost smiles. But then she hears Farnesse gasp.

Casca turns to look at the other woman. Her hand is over her mouth. Serpico’s swords are drawn, his wide eyes fixed on Guts.

“What?” asks Casca.

Farnesse looks at her, fear all over her face. “The armor,” she says, “my mistress isn’t there. The armor, it is…”

Casca glances back, just in time to see Guts slam hard into the ground as one of the apostles tears him from its back and throws him aside.

His left leg twists backward as he lands, making a sickening angle. They can hear the snap of bone all the way on the hill.

She might have screamed, or the sound might be in her own head.[1]

She starts forward, sword in hand—but Serpico catches her arm.

She tries to pull away, eyes on Guts. “He needs help!”

“Casca,” calls Farnesse, breaking Casca’s focus. She turns toward the others, sees Serpico shaking his head as he pulls her back towards the tree line.

Then her eyes are drawn back to the battle by an even more sickening sound. And she’s just in time to see the armor contract, forcing Guts’ leg back into position. 

He immediately leaps forward on it towards an approaching apostle, as smoothly as if nothing had happened at all.[2]

“It healed him?” she says, not believing her own words.

“No,” says Serpico, loosening his grip warily. “It has reinforced the damaged bone and is preventing him from experiencing the resulting…any pain, so he may continue to fight.”

Casca stares at him, her mouth open in horror.

She turns back to the battle. She thinks Serpico is still gripping her, holding her back, but she doesn’t feel it, because all she can focus on are the terrible sprays of blood that are fountaining from Guts’ armor. And he never slows, cutting through apostles like meat, diving and whirling among them until it’s…it’s hard to tell…[3]

She sees him use the toothy mouth of his armor to tear an apostle’s arm off.[4]

She can feel herself shuddering uncontrollably, and…

She turns to her friends, her companions, people she has trusted since the moment she saw them with her own, Casca’s eyes…

“How can you all stand here?” she whispers.

They look at her.

“How can you just…watch him…” her eyes close in pain for a moment.

Then she looks at them. “How many times,” she asks, “have we watched him…”

Serpico and Farnesse aren’t looking at her.

“Five,”[5] says Isidro, eyes averted.

Casca swallows. “Five,” she repeats. “Five times?”

Farnesse looks at her, tears in her own eyes. “Casca, my mistress, she has been able to—”

“Keep it from gouging holes in him?”

Farnesse’s mouth slowly closes.

“Schierke can prevent it from overtaking his mind,” says Serpico. “Only that.”

Casca gives a hollow laugh. Then she looks around them. Her eyes are wide with hurt.

“I thought you cared about him.”

They give her pained looks.

“He does this,” says Serpico,” of his own will.”

“Yeah, we’d ‘ave died every time if he didn’ use it!” adds Isidro.

Casca shakes her head, but then Serpico says, “He wishes to protect what he loves.”

She looks at Serpico. There is deep feeling in his voice, a kind she can’t remember hearing ever before.

Serpico looks back at Guts, who is still fighting, surrounded by a heap of gore, yet facing still more approaching apostles.

“His eye’s gone half blind,” says Casca.

They all look at her.

“He can’t even swing his sword without the armor anymore,” she says.

She looks at them, feeling tears flowing down her face and not caring at all. “It’s been…it’s going to turn him into a walking corpse,” she chokes out, “and you…and we stood here, and…”

The only sounds are the screams of dying apostles.

“I…” says Farnesse, and all eyes turn to her. She swallows, then looks at Casca. There’s fire in her eyes. “I know how to bargain with spirits!”[7]

She looks at Serpico. “Please guard my body.” She looks back at Casca. “I will find a spirit able to restrain him, or one which will give me power to reach into his armor.”

“Lady Farnesse,” says Serpico, alarmed, “this is far too—”

“Farny,” says Isidro, “are you sure ‘bout—”

Farnesse doesn’t break eye contact with Casca.

Casca feels something waver inside her. “Far…” she steps close, “Farnesse,” she says, taking the other woman’s hand, “Please…I still need you…”

Farnesse smiles, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from Casca’s face.

“Do you?” she asks.

Before Casca can answer, she continues, “No, you are right about the armor, about…we should never have tolerated this for so long.”

“Farnesse,” murmurs Casca, “You…”

Farnesse grabs Casca’s left hand between hers. “I’m so proud of you, Casca. You’re…” she shakes her head, wordless. “You’re the best thing I ever…”

Casca grabs Farnesse’s face.

“No,” she says fiercely, “We are not saying goodbye, Farnesse.”

Farnesse’s eyes widen.

Casca squeezes her cheeks, but gently. “You are more powerful than you know,” she hisses. “Then you can know. So you go find the most powerful spirit around, you strike your bargain, and you get back here—and that is an order,” she finishes in a snarl.

Farnesse stares at her.

Then her face breaks into a smile.

“No one’s…it’s been a long time since anyone tried to order me—”

“Well get used to it,” snaps Casca, but she’s grinning and crying. “I’ve been told I’m very bossy, so you’d better do what I say or suffer the consequences.”

Farnesse just smiles at her, eyes full of love. Of pride.

Casca leans their foreheads together. “Don’t you dare die,” she hisses.

Then she steps back.

Farnesse grins at her. “As you command.”

Serpico takes a step towards Farnesse. She looks at him.

He halts.

She smiles.

Then she clasps her hands at her chest, and closes her eyes.

Casca bows her head. They all feel the shift when Farnesse leaves her body.

Casca takes a deep breath, then looks up, eyes alert.

“Almost time,” she mutters, starting to turn towards the fight, her back straightening.

Isidro blinks. “For wh—”

Which is when three young witches crash to the ground in a heap.

They untangle themselves, and the one on the left looks up first, pulling another witch into her arms. “When she woke up, she insisted we take her back here—” the witch says, fearful eyes straying to the carnage Guts is wrecking nearby.

Casca bends down in front of Schierke, who is just stirring, barely conscious. But she raises her head when she sees Casca. “Guts?”

Casca takes the girl’s hand. “Farnesse is—”

Schierke shakes her head, looking over Casca’s shoulder.

Casca follows her gaze. And feels her blood run cold.

The apostles are…they’re climbing over each other to get to him, now, there…there are just too many of them. They are like…like a wall…like that time…[8]

Guts is standing right there, alone, in front of them…he won’t be able to…

She turns back to Schierke. “The ritual, will it hurt him if he’s in there?”

Schierke shakes her head. “It will not harm him, he is still human.” Her eyes start to drift close, consciousness flickering. “But we will be—”

Casca ignores her, closing her eyes and concentrating on thought transference.

Now! She sends to the four great gurus, each of whom has made a pact with the lords of the four elements and directions, and has waited for Casca’s signal, for the critical moment at which to snare as many inhumans as possible.

Around them, a thousand beams of light flare to life.[9] She can hear the apostles screaming. Isidro is behind her, Serpico is standing between Farnesse’s body and the battle, and the light is everywhere, and…

Schierke grabs Casca’s arm, dragging her close. The witch’s eyes are bright, though the rest of her body seems immobile. She pulls Casca’s ear to her mouth to be heard over the screams of dying apostles.

“It will only be us and Guts within the four corners of protection,” she shouts. “Casca, I’ve been in his mind when he’s engulfed in the armor. He cannot see us at all—it is as if we are mere shadows, outgrowths of an endless horde of enemies.”[10]

Casca flinches at the tug of memory, of horror born from endless enemies surrounding her…

“He’ll kill us!” Casca shouts.

Schierke’s one working hand grips her ear. “The first time that I entered the armor and found Guts’ innermost ego,” she says, “it was you he saw and remembered. He forgot his name, but he remembered you—and that he would not stand, could not bear for you to be hurt.”[11]

Casca’s fists clench.

“I can make you visible to him,” says Schierke. “Sharpen your od so that he can perceive your individuality, your face.[12] But…”

Casca looks over her shoulder.

The light is just beginning to settle, and she can make Guts out among the corpses. He’s surrounded by the distorted bodies of his enemies, coated in blood, a shape of black metal with cruel edges, panting like a beast…he’s quite inescapably, utterly monstrous.

His helmet is a beast’s snout, his hands are claws…

And Casca is overwhelmed by a memory of being pinned, prodded, violated by claws not unlike…far too like…

And of being pinned down by hands, of being terrified, of…

Of the same face she knows is under that beast’s visage…

And she feels her right hand clench on her sword hilt as she remembers the pain and fear a beast, a monster (which?) drew from her…[13]

Her right hand is holding her sword now…she looks at it…

At her hand…

The hand she’d promised would hold on, when he couldn’t…

And she remembers that face, the one she knows is inside that metal beast. Looking at her.

She remembers a thousand renderings of that face.

Someone she could not see, yet wanted to see more than anything, wanted so very, very…

She remembers his face in a cave,[14] surrounded by strange, bare people near a great bonfire, remembers feeling a surprise of safety after far too much fear…

A face covered in blood, a white streak standing out among the black hair…[15]

A face in an ordinary, flat landscape, winter’s chill everywhere.[16]

Looking at her.

A single eye brimming with sorrow, and yet, with…

Casca’s closed her eyes.

She opens them, looks at the girl in front of her.

She knows that what met his face, when he had looked at her back then, was cruelty, resentment, hate, bare indifference at best. Nothing, compared to what was laid bare and offered up to her in that single eye of his. And yet, again and again, well beyond hope of return, he had looked at her, had kept…

Until…until she had…

And…

And she remembers a mausoleum of royalty. Remembers extending her hand, wiping blood from his face.

As he closes his eyes.

And bares his throat.[17]

She could almost laugh. A monster?

Her eyes meet Schierke’s.

Guts.

A strange image rises in her mind. A black hound, wounded, but standing on three legs, howling upwards—at a black sun.[18]

He needs me.

It’s my turn.

She feels her own body as she leans forward towards Schierke, feels the memories of her urge to run from it all, to run and hide and escape and be no one.

And she smiles at the witch before her.

“What are you waiting for?”

[1] Casca’s reactions are inspired by V11 E63-66.

[2] Guts’ injuries are similar to those seen in V27 E227

[3] Puck references this in V27 E227

[4] Reference to V36 E316

[5] V26/27 E225-229, V28 E241-243 V31/32 E269-278, V35/36 E315-317, V36/37 E318-327 (worth noting the stints got longer).

[7] Farnesse reached the first step in doing this in V36 E318

[8] V12 E78

[9] This is an upgrade of the spell seen in V25 E209 and V36 E318

[10] Schierke learned about Guts’ perception within the armor in V31 E270.

[11] Schierke is referring to her experience within the armor in V27 E229

[12] The possibility of someone’s face breaking through Guts’ perception there was established in V36 E317.

[13] Casca is remembering events from V13 E86-87 and V23 E188-190.

[14] “The face in the cave” refers to V19 E148

[15] V27 E229 for

[16] V23 E189

[17] V10 E56

[18] The hound as seen in V39 E348-V40 E354

Chapter Text

Enemies[1]

Hate

Enemies. Enemies

Attack

Destroy

Destroy

Enemies

Slaughter

Hate Fear Slay

Enemies?

Loathing….

Enemies are…

Where?

There!

Destroy

Run, hurry, kill, slaughter

And soon, soon, that one, that light that burns, soon….

Won’t, can’t fly away, nothing can, not from me

Enemies there

Can’t escape

Kill

A shadow in front of him

His sword rises, levels, preparing to thrust.

Then flies upwards, as if leveraged from below.

What?

A face.

From the gray mist that engulfs him

A face

How?

Fury…

“Guts.”

What?

The face, closer

His arm, above, raised upwards, sword pointing at the tree branches.

“Guts!”

A sound…no matter, now, no matter…

Sword free

He pulls back

Hands reach towards him

Touch his

Face? Snout?

Too close!

Destroy!

“I meant it all, Guts.”

But…

Protect…

“Every word.”

Her…

“And you meant it all, too.”

Darkness

Light

“I know you did, Guts.”

“Even what you didn’t say.”

Guts… that’s…

Slaughter

“You mustn’t hurt us, Guts. You mustn’t hurt me. Or them.”[2]

Hurt

Heal

“It’s safe to come back, Guts.”

“I’m right here.”

Enemy

Friend

“You’re safe, Guts.

“I’m right here, waiting for you.”

Hate

Love

“And I need you now.”

He screams. He feels himself flail away from her, but somehow she doesn’t let go…

“It’s over now.”

“You survived. We survived.”

Yield

“Come back to me.”

Survive

Destroy

Protect

No

“It’s all right, Guts,” she whispers, and her hands are on his jaw. “I know…”

“I know how hard it is.”

Survive

She isn’t touching…it’s the armor, the armor…he is…

“But you’re strong enough. Stronger than me. And you—”

She’s looking into this…single…eye…

“You are still Guts,” she hisses fiercely.

Then she grabs his left hand and puts it to her neck.

And lets go.

The gray mist stops moving around him. The silence is…endless.

And the fingers of his left hand begin to close…

He sees them, the fingers of the hand that…that he doesn’t have?...tighten…

Her eyes

Focused on him

Her hand over his

Her hands…

He…

He only has one…

His on hers

Her skin

On his hand

On the place where this arm, he can see

Here

Where it ends…

He’s hurting her…

And a single word rises in him and becomes him, his word, and the word is

no, no, no,no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

NO

Then…

He sees his hand begin to….

Yes.

Something rushes inside him

The words...

Yes…No…

Until there’s one strange sound…

And then

Daylight

He feels his left arm fall

And hears her voice say his name

And a word

“Yes”

And he sees

Those are dark brown fingers, on the inside of the armor, and if he doesn’t do anything the metal is going to snap closed and those fingers, those hands, that woman…

That person…

He lets everything he’s ever swallowed loose in a howl

Survive

Protect

And sees, feels, the armor’s vise opening

So he howls again, and…

Brilliant light….

He’s kneeling. Sword on the ground beside his hand.

And Casca is in front of him.

Her arms…blood runs down them from her hands.

Her bloody hands

Which are still pushing, pulling, forcing the jaws of the armor away from him.

The part of himself he most fears, it’s digging into her flesh, and yet, she…

She finally lets go, looks at him, her hands rising towards his face…

He gazes at her

And can’t believe he’s real…

Until his eye is drawn to the flash of white behind her.

[1] Guts’ and the Beast’s interactions here are heavily influenced by V36 E328

[2] See boy's dialogue in V36 E317

Chapter Text

Casca wrenches her hands from the armor’s teeth, blood welling from her punctured flesh, a flash of white bone drawing her eye, but—

She doesn’t care. She’s done it. He’s out.

She wants to touch him, reaches out—and then, the look of love and awe on Guts’ face shifts.

Becomes fear.

He shoves her to the ground, grabbing his sword and rising to his feet, and as she falls she turns to see what he’s seen—

Griffith.

He’s like a figure from a tale or…or a stained glass image of a saint[1] come to life. He doesn’t seem to notice the light of magic around them at all, and his white cloak billows out behind him like a bright mirror of Guts’ black cloak

And he’s almost reached Farnesse.

Griffith’s on her far side. Farnesse is standing near Guts and Casca, Serpico between them. He must have been distracted by the Berserker,[2] and he’s only just starting towards Griffith. Casca hears Isidro shout near where she’d left Schierke. And Guts is still rising, she ducks as he transfers his sword over her to his left hand, shifting his weight to lunge around Farnesse—and she sees his movement stutter.

He’s right out of the armor—we’re more vulnerable right now that ever!

And it hits her too late: I…I was so focused on the army, on thinking of tactics to counter Griffith’s and protect the village, protect this island, that I lost sight of his true purpose for coming here.

Killing us, whatever the cost.

She sees Serpico leap over Farnesse in a whirl of wind spirits, getting between her and Griffith, his blades flashing…

And she sees the weapons simply miss.[3]

And Griffith’s blade slices deep into Serpico’s gut, emerging from a different place in his body and leaving a terrible gash in his stomach.

Griffith doesn’t even break his stride.

Serpico falls, trying to lash out with his sword again, but his metal blade can’t reach and the wind blade has fallen from his hand as he instinctively clutched his wound

And Guts is stepping forward at last, but Griffith…

He’s crouching at an awkward angle as he reaches the still-entranced Farnesse, as if to put her between himself and Guts—

And Casca realizes, remembers, understands as Griffith’s sword stabs forward.

Our son will intervene if he attacks us directly. So, as the boy can perceive through his eyes, he must ensure—

Griffith stabs with that perfect controlled precision, that careful aim and deliberation she’d admired so much, used as the basis of her own fighting style…

Piercing neatly, precisely, up Farnesse’s ribcage and through her heart.

The blade emerges on the other side of her body, out of her back, moving through her so quickly that Casca can hardly see the stain of the lifeblood of Farnesse Vandimion on the metal.

Farnesse’s body folds with the force of the blow, but Griffith doesn’t stop moving, leveraging the sword up against her bones and bending to keep her filling his line of sight, driving his sword upwards—right at Guts’ throat.

But Guts manages to turn the movement that would have gotten him around Farnesse, nearer Griffith, into a dodge, and Griffith’s sword deflects against the bloody neck of the armor.

And…

Griffith is standing barely two feet from Casca.

Guts is farther—

Fear is all she knows…

But she sees Guts’ arm flash with movement as he pulls off something that’s been strapped to his right wrist so he wouldn’t lose it in the armor.

He shouts, “FEMTO!”

A shiver of darkness races through the world, through them, and with no transition Griffith in his true form is again before them.

And Guts’ right hand is already moving.

His left hand shifts the flat of his sword to push Farnesse and Griffith’s blade away, he shifts his body, moving off-balance, but he still manages to throw the knife in his right hand into the left eyehole of Griffith’s mask.

An overwhelming scream fills Casca’s senses, and for a moment light blinds her…

The light forms the outline and content of Femto’s figure

Then most of it inverts, becomes darkness…

Except for

The shape of a child, standing on the ground, which makes a blazing core of whiteness in the depths of that darkness rising above…

And then the same wings of darkness that once obliterated her world…

Block the boy from her sight.

Femto draws back his wings to take flight—and the image of the boy is already gone.

Normal light and sight return, as Guts crashes to the ground beside her.

---------

The force of the shockwave and his own unsteadiness knock Guts to the ground, pain now un-dulled by the armor radiating through his body. Griffith leaps into the air, and Guts sees Serpico on the ground, clutching his stomach to keep his insides in. And he sees Farnesse, unmoving where she fell—but there’s no time for that.

He levers himself up with his sword and steps over Casca, getting between her and the figure in the sky. She’s looking up, gashed hands grasping, tracking blood over the ground as she searches for her sword… He lifts his own blade and squints through what sight he has in his single eye to see him.

Griffith still has his sword, and he’s wheeling around in the air and heading back toward them. Guts braces himself to fight, despite the terrible sensations running through his body because this person can never, never touch Casca again, no matter the price, he’ll—

The thought evaporates in a sudden spray of steam and heat.

---------

A FEW MINUTES AGO

As Farnesse enters her trance, her luminous body[4] floats away from the earth. She lets herself drift, her awareness opening, reaching as far as it can.

She races her form through the trees to expand her perception, feeling the spirits around her. The spirits of the trees surround her—Great, but not great enough to stop him, she thinks. I must be certain. I will not have a second chance.

She changes direction to go upwards, rising up above the trees. She cranes her spiritual neck, trying to spot something that could give her a clue—then pauses.

She’s somehow already reached the Great Cherry Tree. Above it, Danaan’s astral form is hovering, smiling at her.

Farnesse opens her mouth to apologize, to ask for help—

But Danaan’s eyes lower, until she is gazing straight down. Then she looks back up at Farnesse, pointedly.

And Farnesse remembers…

A conversation with Roderick. Walking along the deck of his ship, hanging onto Casca with one hand as the two of them spoke. Pleased, she has to admit, with the attention Roderick is giving her.

“There are records on Ilth of islands that no longer exist, and maps of ancient empty seas which now hold tiny archipelagoes,” he says, gesturing at an island on the horizon, one they had passed in the early days of the voyage. “They look eternal, and the sea may seem like water’s most absolute and pure domain. But beneath us, vast mountains are growing. Each island is the peak of one, often of more than one.”

He smiles at her, clearly delighting in her wide-eyed fascination.

“Volcanoes,” he says. “They are the engine which grows our world. Beneath each one of these seemingly peaceful islands, there lurks a mountain of fire.”[5]

In her present, luminous form, Farnesse bows her head in thanks towards Danaan. Then she turns and races back along the rope to her body. It’d be terrible to make supplication to the wrong volcano spirit.

As she returns, she doesn’t pause to take in details. There’s a figure all in black which must be Guts, and Casca is too close to him, and in the corner of her eye she sees a flash of white…

There’s no time.

She hears her mistress call her name, but dares not hesitate.

Farnesse plunges headfirst into the earth at her physical body’s feet, and dives, dives, moves until she emerges in a rocky camber, lit from within by a sea of fire.[6]

[1] V6 E16

[2] Serpico is very wary when Guts is in the armor, including deliberately placing himself between the others and Guts in an attempt to protect the group in V28 E243 and V36 E316, and in V30 E257 we see that part of his motive for this is a fear that Guts in the armor will one day kill Farnesse.

[3] The thing where weapons always miss Griffith is directly shown in V22 E186, and it’s there by implication every time he’s on a battlefield, and even when Skull Knight tries to get him in V34 E303-304

[4] V32 E286

[5] The idea is that this conversation occurred at an unspecified time while the group was on the boat, so sometime between V32 and V39

[6] What follows is inspired by the instances of spirits possessing Schierke as seen in V25 E212-213, V26 E220-221, and V31 E267-268

Chapter Text

Isidro is gasping for breath, he can barely see through the steam. Puck’s urging him on while hiding in his hair, and the boy moves in front of Schierke and the other witches, takes a fighting stance to try to protect them from whatever’s happening.

The black figure in the sky, Griffith, wheels away from the shimmering, rising heat. Isidro peers through the steam and he can just make out Guts, his arm around Casca’s waist, pulling her back from where she’s trying to go toward—

Farny?

It’s her all right, standing up now even though he could have sworn he saw her fall, and her eyes are closed but he thinks that’s normal for what she’s doing, so maybe, what he thought he saw…

Isidro’s eyes fall on the blood pouring down Farnesse’s chest from a ragged hole.

“Her body,” he hears a witch saying, “she’s still in a trance, so her body can’t go into shock, she’ll just keep…”

Isidro’s eyes widen as he realizes what that means. There’s a bit of time, after someone gets hit, when they sort of freeze up. Not as much blood comes out as would, and the elves can get in and heal. But if Farny can’t freeze up…

He starts forward instinctively, but another blast of steam pushes him back.

He sees Farny’s mouth move, [1]  then feels his bones shudder as he sees something materialize beneath her, around her, over and engulfing her, something made of flame and stone and fire that somehow moves like water…

Farnesse’s eyes open, and they’re full of flames.

And he hears, a voice like a hiss of steam, of a shattering of graveled stone:

“I am the Lady of the Volcanic Mountain, Astarael, mistress of fire and creation. In accordance with my pact with the humble one, I shall scrotch her enemies unto the sea.”

“Go!” shouts Schierke suddenly, grabbing for the nearest broom. “Get away from this area! She cannot hope to make this precise!”

As she shouts, Farnesse and the spirit look upwards as one. A fountain of lava rises from the ground near her, hurling itself at Griffith as Farnesse stretches out her hand.

Isidro sees in disappointment that the God Hand gives it the slip. Another spout of lava goes for him, and he seems to decide it’s time to retreat, darting off at speed towards the shore.

And as the spouts rise into the air, dollops of flame and rock rain down everywhere. Schierke was clearly right: anywhere close to Farnesse is dangerous.

He wheels around to help Schierke get on the broom with one of the witches, then he hops on the other broom and tries not to shriek when it takes off.

He looks over his shoulder as they speed away. Casca’s stopped fighting Guts, now she’s almost at the edge of the forest and headed towards Elfhelm, half dragging Serpico, who’s clinging to his stomach.

And he sees Guts.

---------

It’s like a child’s game, hopping from one piece of flotsam to another,[2] stepping on ruined rubble of tree-houses or bits of dying apostles which are being dragged out of the trees around them by ribbons of liquid flame, as the spirit Farnesse has summoned seems bent on ensuring none remain on the island. Guts keeps moving towards her, avoiding the lava and feeling the armor dig a little deeper with every step—but each leap brings him closer to Farnesse.

She’s up on top of a house now, what’s left of it at least, and he manages to hitch a ride on some wood borne by the lava wave that follows her to swallow the building. He’s so close—but just as he gains his footing on the roof, she goes off the other side. He runs forward to where she was, leaps off, and hits the clear ground in the circle that’s being maintained around her, keeping her from the destruction. Guts reaches out for her—

A little wave of lava laps up at his feet, then in an instant it spins like a whirlpool, spirals around his lower legs, and solidifies in the blink of an eye.

Shit—she went under while I was still outta it, must’ve asked it to hold me down ‘til someone could…

Guts snarls in frustration. Farnesse is still walking forward, almost floating over obstacles with unnatural grace, and he’s sure that’s all bad. Schierke’d never moves this much when she’s done her spirit thing, this isn’t how it should be…

And he can see the blood pouring out, still. Flashes of awful too-red liquid just visible through the simulacrum of the spirit engulfing her.

He’s seen wounds like that, made ‘em by the hundred. She’s got to get to an elf now, there’s no time for this…

“Farnesse!” he bellows desperately. 

Her pace slows. Halts.

Her head slowly turns and her eyes, full of molten fire, fix on him.

She blinks. He sees a hint of human pupils in the flames of her eyes.

“Farnesse!!”

She seems to focus on him. She looks surprised to see him for a moment…then her face relaxes. Becomes serene. Happy.

She says, in almost her normal, quiet voice, but with deep feeling and an unfamiliar backbone of certainty:

“Thank you, Guts.”

He opens his mouth to tell her to stop wasting time.

But she’s already turned around. She raises her arms and spreads her fingers, and he hears screams from even deeper in the trees as apostles are rooted out by fingers of lava and dragged into the torrent of stone and steam and heat.

He shouts her name again as she walks away, but there’s no sign she hears him.

She doesn’t turn again.

---------

The others find Guts after all of molten rock cools enough to walk on, which happens unnaturally quickly. One of the young witches performs the spell to break the rocks around Guts’ legs while Schierke flies ahead.

There’s basically a road to the shore from where the village used to be, now. The rock is bumpy and tricky to walk on, and Casca insists on helping Guts, propping him up to support him until they catch up with Serpico.

He hadn’t waited for Guts to get free, either, and he’s stumbling forward with a hand pressed to his half-healed stomach.

Casca looks at Guts, and he nods. “I’m fine to walk.” She gives him a strange, tight look at this—but a moment later she steps away to sling Serpico’s arm over her shoulder. He’s white and trembling, and they have to stop twice for Puck to deck him in healing dust. But none of them tell him to stop, and he refuses suggestions to slow down.

They pass what’s left of the standing stones. “Too much to hope some didn’t make it out,” says Casca bitterly.

Guts nods. Isidro already told them that Skull Knight’s opponent, Zodd, vanished. Guts knows he killed that rock-dragon himself, Grum-whatever.[3] But there’s probably plenty who made it to the stones[4] ahead of the lava, and Griffith must have opened the way for them or there’d be signs of dead apostles around. They’ll be back, but it should at least be a while. And, anyway…

Guts pushes the thought aside.

He glances around, looks at Casca, Serpico, Isidro, Puck. It’s the group he first travelled with,[5] once again. Except, of course, for….

The lava road runs all the way to a rocky beach. Waves are crashing against the new stone, already beginning to wear it away.

Farnesse is lying on the top of the slope to the beach, right where the soil ends.

Her hands are folded neatly over her chest, concealing the wound there.

Her eyes are closed. Her face is peaceful.[6]

Schierke is sitting a few steps away from the body, her knees drawn up to her chest, face hidden.

Roderick’s ship is offshore, and there’s a rowboat approaching. Isma appears on the beach, stepping out of the water as she transforms. Isidro suddenly bolts towards her, throws his arm around her in a hug as soon as he’s close to her and doesn’t let go.

Guts goes to Schierke, lowering himself to sit beside her. She doesn’t look up or say anything, but she scoots a little toward him.

Casca and Serpico keep walking until they’re standing beside Farnesse.

Casca helps Serpico slide down to the ground, then kneels down herself. She’s beside Farnesse’s shoulder. She gently brushes a few strands of hair to the side of the younger woman’s face. Then she slowly bends forward, lowering her head until her hair is touching Farnesse’s cheek. And she begins to shake with sobs.

Serpico doesn’t move from where he’s first sat down. His eyes are wide.

He reaches out as if to take Farnesse’s hand in his shaking one…and then lets his arm fall.

The rowboat is almost at the beach. No one on it is speaking. They’ve already seen her.

The boat lands, and those in it splash out. As Roderick, Magnifico, and Azan walk up the beach towards the others, Guts looks towards Schierke.

“You told me one time,” he says, “that death works different, for magic users.”[7]

Schierke sniffs, but she raises her head a little. Then, taking a deep breath, she nods.

“Farnesse’s spirit,” she says quietly, “her existential form, did not die with her physical body. And it is not immediately bound to a destination by its karma, as most souls are. It…she continues to exist, in a world which overlaps ours to some extent.”[8]

Guts looks towards Farnesse’s body.

“Good,” he says quietly.

Casca looks at Schierke. “So we…we might see her again?”

The breathless hope in Casca’s voice…Guts almost gets up and goes to her. But he knows better. What she had with Farnesse is something he wasn’t a part of. Casca knows he’ll be here, when she’s ready.

Schierke closes her eyes. “Farnese will someday be able to contact others who walk in many worlds, such as myself. Often in our dreams. But…”

Her silence answers Casca’s question.

Casca takes a deep breath. “Then she’s still…she’s still Farnesse, though, just somewhere…else?” she asks, voice catching.

Schierke smiles, tears in her eyes. “Yes.”

Casca nods. “That’s good,” she says, turning back to gaze at Farnesse’s motionless face. “That’s good,” she says again, and touches her lips to the other woman’s forehead.

“You mean she is still in the real world?” says Serpico suddenly.

Everyone looks at him.

“Well…yes, but—” Schierke starts to say.

“So put her back.”

There’s silence.

“Wait, whaddaya—” starts Isidro. But Serpico’s turned to look at Schierke, and there’s fire in his eyes.

“All your magic,” he says forcefully, “there must be enough to heal her body. Just return her soul to it, if she’s still in the world.”

All eyes turn to Schierke. But the girl shakes her head. “This is not something which is given to a practitioner of magic to alter. Life and death are not something to be—”

Serpico rises to his feet, fists clenched. “Then what good are you?” he snarls furiously.

Casca looks up at him in shock. Guts straightens, eye growing wary.

“All that magic, that power,” Serpico is shouting now, “so it can bring about her demise, get her killed, but no, to undo this, save her, that is not permitted?”[9]

He spins towards Schierke. “You talk as if your magic were some divine gift, but when a true test appears—”

Guts is abruptly standing between Serpico and Schierke.

Serpico blinks, looks up at him. Guts’ hand is on his chest.

He shakes his head.

A gust of wind blows off of the sea, and Guts’ cape, Serpico’s tunic, Roderick’s coat, and Schierke’s hat all move ever so slightly.

“She’s my sister,” says Serpico finally, voice hoarse.

Eyes widen around him, and Magnifico’s mouth falls open. But Serpico doesn’t notice. He’s looking, wide-eyed, at Guts.

“She is my little sister, and I never told her.”[10]

Pain radiates from the young man, and everyone looks away except Guts.

Guts meets Serpico’s eye, calm. Kind. But resolute.

Finally, Serpico closes his eyes. He swallows, then looks again at Schierke. “Please,” he whispers, strained. “Please…”

She shakes her head. “I…I am sorry, Serpico, but the end of…” she swallows, continues, “the end of a moral life is beyond the purview of magic to affect.”

Serpico closes his eyes again.

“Then what is the point of you?” he asks flatly.

Schierke falls back as if struck, and Guts starts to push Serpico back—but it doesn’t matter, because Serpico’s already turning away.

He strides over to his sister, draws her into his lap, and curls himself over her. As if to shelter her from the wind.[11]

[1] What follows is inspired by the instances of spirits possessing Schierke as seen in V25 E212-213, V26 E220-221, and V31 E267-268

[2] Guts moving in this way is inspired by V31 E269-270, V35 E315, and V36 E321

[3] Grunbeld, as seen in V27 E227. If you liked him, sorry ‘bout that.

[4] ” she’s doing something similar to what was seen in V40 E357

[5] Agreed in V23 E191

[6] Yep, killed Farnesse.

There’s a few reasons for this. The most important one to be honest was that Farnesse’s character arc was just sort of done. I mean, there’s directions it could go, and I wouldn’t have been surprised either way if Miura didn’t kill her. But this is a damn good place for her story to end.

So just in terms of mechanics and structure, Farnesse’s character isn’t necessary anymore. The group has two mages, which means that they’re over-prepared and there’s no more real tension around using magic anymore, no difficult choices to make related to using magic. That’s very noticeable in the Sea God arc. When it was introduced at the start of MF, magic was a difficult, dangerous tool to wield, and included serious risks to the user and all those around her. That continued in the escape from Vrittanis, though it was less intense and the “risk to those around her” was lessened a lot (you could have stuck all the characters except Guts, Schierke, and maybe Serpico in an attic for most (not all, to be fair) of the leaving-Vrittanis fight and hardly changed anything). But in the Sea God arc, the magic used is risk-free to everyone except Guts, and Guts doesn’t count ‘cause his main job at that point in the story is to get fucked up killing things. If there had only been one mage in Sea God, a difficult choice would have had to be made, causing serious character conflict no matter what. But since there were two mages in Sea God, it was basically all good. So this takes away that safety net.

Farnesse’s other main function was to take care of Casca. That was something that was extremely important before, and is completely irrelevant now. That relationship could have evolved after Casca’s return, but there are several problems with that. The first is that the dynamic we saw emerging in the interactions after Casca’s return was actually preventing Casca from doing the hard work of dealing with her trauma. It’s not unlike how Schierke and Guts using the armor was allowing Guts to continue doing something fundamentally bad for him. Rather than helping Casca face the darkness, what we saw was that Casca was regressing towards Elaine when she was around Farnesse. The visual of Farnesse huddled in a bed in a tiny room applies here: Farnesse had become the ‘bed’ and room that Casca was huddling inside to hide from the darkness. That analogy even applies physically. 

Could the two have evolved a relationship that helped both characters develop? Yeah, sure, definitely, and that’s hinted at in the scene before Farnesse goes astral trancing. The scene at the end of the Dreamscape Arc, in V40 E354, was both an ending and a rebirth of that relationship. But since Casca's gotten her memory back, their relationship did evolve--in fact, this heroic death wouldn’t have been possible without Farnesse’s relationship with Casca growing. That being said, the relationship is not necessary to the progress of the story. In purely mechanical terms, Casca is a larger cog in the core story than Farnesse, and the main way to drive her forward in step with the story is by turning the linking cogs of Guts, Griffith, and the boy. That means that going deep into that relationship with Farnesse at this point is a distraction, something that might move Farnesse’s story forward, but would do far less for Casca’s and the overall story.

This death for Farnesse is also a really important part of a bigger project in this section: integrating the primary story (Guts, Casca, Griffith, Eclipse) with the secondary story (Farnesse, Isidro, Schierke, adventures). This scene has several elements that resonate with the events of the Eclipse. there’s Griffith’s sudden appearance, there’s Guts seeing him behind Casca, there’s the surprise, there’s Griffith killing Farnesse and putting her physically between himself and Guts, Farnesse being hurt essentially in the crossfire just like Casca was. There’s Guts’ and Casca’s vulnerability in this scene, again a vulnerability tied to the depths and power of their relationship. They’ve started to progress, integrate, build a deeper bond—but they’ve done that while still physically vulnerable to the same person, Griffith, who victimized them before. That’s a problem, more of a problem than they realize until it’s too late

Also, Farnesse dying like this links the MF gang to Griffith powerfully, permanently, and directly. Before, the link of the entire secondary cast to the antagonist was practically nonexistent. There was knowledge, but the only one with real feelings involved was Schierke’s being afraid and, of course, Guts. Guts was private about that, just like he was private about practically everything else. Farnesse’s death here makes Griffith a better antagonist, as well as renewing the pain of the deaths at the Eclipse which had mostly faded into the background. Everyone has skin in the game now, not just Guts and Casca.

And finally, I rather think this is a fabulous ending for Farnesse. From that hollow, terrified girl to someone filled with fire. The spirit calls her the “humble one”: all her development over the course of MF and Fantasia comes together here, with her doing something, becoming something (both to herself, and to the people she cares about) that are unique to her and more powerful than anything she once conceived was possible. Someone who can save all of her friends at one of their darkest hours. From someone bound to her faith and the orders of those above her to someone who is charting her own path, bringing together knowledge and courage gained from each of the her relationships which readers have watched evolve (Roderick, Danaan, Schierke, Guts, Casca). This is her moment, the end and, in a way, the beginning of her journey, and this is who and what she wants to be.

And it’s very important for that ending with Guts. Farnesse set out on this journey because she wanted Guts to ‘show’ her a way to live with the strangeness of the real world—and because she wanted to be important to him. Just like Casca did with Griffith. But Griffith…Casca in the end was very much not valued for who she was, but rather what she could do. That applies both before and after the Eclipse. Farnesse here moves forward where Casca couldn't (which is doable ‘cause Guts is better than Griffith), while also completing her own journey. Farnesse found her own way of living with this world. And in that final moment there, she knows that Guts cares about her. Not about what she can do—her. And that’s important, very important, for Farnesse to be able to step out of this relationship with him, to outgrow it, and to move on somewhere else.

[7] V28 E 237

[8] Schierke’s response draws from V27 E229.

[9] Serpico’s emotionalism here is inspired partly by like logic (intense shit, no planning or anticipation) and partly by inner monologues in V30 E257. There’s also his discomfort with Farnesse learning magic, both when it was initially suggested in V27 E236 and later on in the background

[10] Serpico is talking about what was revealed in V22 E185

[11] Serpico’s hostility towards Schierke here and his contempt of magic are my way of engaging with a hanging plot that Miura left: Serpico’s disconnection from and discomfort with Farnesse’s magic use. This is highlighted several times even after his initial hysteria at the idea of her becoming a witch. In this scene, that leads to his aggression and fury—and more importantly, it leads to him becoming vulnerable. That leads to the thing that wasn’t mentioned after volume 23, and yet is most of the reason Serpico is here: he’s Farnesse’s older brother.

Chapter Text

Some hours later, Serpico stumbles back down the road out of the forest, hobbling painfully forward. He’s still only partly healed. Even though most of the apostles had headed straight for the village, many had cut through the trees to try to encircle it. As a result, many of the island’s inhabitants are injured. There’s only so much healing to go around. Serpico won’t die, but he’s supposed to be resting.

He doesn’t care. He wants to go back there, where Lady Farnesse must have…

It’s all he can think of, going back there. The only thing he’ll let himself think of.

He slips and falls. The wind spirits try to catch him, to pull him up, but he mentally pushes them away.

“Moron.”

Serpico looks up. Isidro is trotting down the road, Puck flying along behind him.

Isidro rolls his eyes. “What, you don’ like keepin’ your guts on the inside?”

Serpico just stares at him.

Isidro snorts, then extends his hand. “C’mon, then, dimwit.”

They continue towards the shore, walking more slowly now. Puck flies with Serpico and drops healing dust on his wounds. By the time they reach the sea, the sun is touching the water and Serpico’s stomach actually feels almost normal. He touches it gingerly, but the scar seems to be all that remains.

“My thanks,” he says quietly to Puck. Then he swallows, looking at the wide stretch of hardened lava that runs to the sea’s edge. His eyes are drawn to the place at the lava rock’s rightmost edge where soil meets stone, where earlier Farnesse had…

“You should really sit down,” says Puck quietly, and he jumps. He meets the elf’s understanding eyes.

Isidro is already sitting. There’s a small ridge where the lava flow seems to have crested, right in front of the setting sun. The tide’s gone out, and Roderick’s ship is long gone.

Slowly, Serpico lowers himself to sit by Isidro.

They watch the sun descend in silence.

Something seizes in Serpico, a desperate need to break that quiet, to hear something…

“Where did Guts go?” he asks. He’d lost track of the others at some point.

To his astonishment, Isidro snickers, and Puck bursts out laughing.

The elf flies up to dance in the air in front of Serpico. “He’s sleepin’ the sleep o’ the dead, ‘cause Casca drugged ‘im!”

Serpico gawks at the elf. “She deceived him?”

Puck shakes his head, and Isidro’s half falling over, tears of laughter in his eyes.

The boy explains, “Guts tried to get up after his healin’ was done, and he had the armor half on again—”

“An’ me yellin’ at him,” adds Puck.

“—when Casca an’ I came in. I was helpin’ her carry firewood or blankets or…I forget what, ‘cause when she saw what Guts was doin’ she flipped—”

“I feared for my eardrums!” chimes in Puck.

“—then she shoved Guts back onta the bed an’ stormed out, orderin’ him ta take the armor back off. An’ he looked pissed, but ‘e did it! Then she came back in with a mug full of the drugs for a healin’ sleep,[1] an’ he took one sniff an’ told her she was nuts, so she handed it to me an’ shoved ‘im down an’ sat on him! An’ wouldn’t move until he agreed to drink it!”

Puck and Isidro are both howling at the memory, and Serpico’s mouth and eyes are hanging open.

It’s some time before the boy and elf relax, wheezing.

Serpico comes out of shock, closing his mouth and swallowing. “I…I did not anticipate that the real Casca would be…so…”

“‘So’ what?” asks Casca, coming up behind him.

Isidro and Puck both jump, and Serpico looks awkward. “So forceful,” he finishes at last.

Casca sniffs, sitting down to Serpico’s left. “You idiots just let that fool do whatever he felt like, didn’t you?”

“He is quite set and determined when he believes himself to be in the right,” says Serpico delicately.

Casca’s expression somehow mingles exasperation, fondness, anger, and disapproval.

They fall silent. Listening to the sea.

Isidro starts to fidget, shooting strange looks at Casca.

Then he springs up. “I’m gonna take a walk,” he says, and speeds down the beach, followed by Puck.

Casca watches them go, then she and Serpico continue watching the sun slip into the sea.

Serpico coughs as Isidro’s footsteps fade. “Forgive me if I offend you, but—you are not what I expected.”

She laughs. “I hope not! From what Farnesse said, I was…”

They both fall silent.

Serpico looks at his hands.

“As you will,” he says, “you may inquire on why I did not tell her.”

Casca doesn’t respond for long moments. Then, she says, “You must not have been born in the same house, so how did the two of you meet?”

Serpico blinks. Then his gaze turns to the sea, and he sighs softly.

He looks endlessly tired.

“I was buried in the snow…[2]”

---------

Isidro walks along the beach, hands buried in his pockets, kicking rocky sand in sprays ahead of him. Puck flies along at his side.[3]

“What’s the matter? You got somethin’ against Casca?”

A spray of sand rises over Isidro’s head. “Nah, Casca’s awesome.” He pauses, then mutters, “Like Guts said, I can learn a lot about fightin’ from her.”

Puck frowns, hovering by Isidro’s face. He can sense how strangely the boy feels about that.

“Do you…is it because Guts…”

“No! It’s…” Isidro sighs, gaze downcast

“I…” his face scrunches up with shame, “I hate killin’.”

They walk a few steps in silence.

“Y’know,” says Puck, “That’s kinda necessary to become the ‘Ultimate Swordsman’[4]…”

“I know!” Isidro screams at the top of his lungs.

They both stop, Puck staring at him, Isidro staring at the ground.

“I know,” the boy says again, quietly. “But I still hate it.[5]”

The wind whistles off the sea.

Then Puck lands on Isidro’s shoulder and kisses his cheek.

Isidro half jumps out of his skin, squawking indignantly.

“I’m so prouda you, little buddy!” cries Puck, kissing him again in spite of Isidro’s furious attempts to dislodge him. “But,” the elf says seriously, “there’re loads of really bad people in the world, y’know—like ones who’d hurt a defenseless elf—who absolutely—”

“I know that!” interrupts Isidro. “But….if I were…if I reached my ambition,[6] then…”

They’re both finally silent.

The sun finally slips below the horizon.

“Puck,” says Isidro, “you ever give up on a dream?”

Puck sits down on Isidro’s shoulder, then leans down towards the shore.

He props his elbows on his knees, hands under his chin.

“Elves don’t really have dreams like human,” he says. “Not much point in an ambition like bein’ a great warrior, or a king, or whatever, when you’ll live forever. Less a dream ‘n a hobby, an’ a pointless one at that.”

Puck flies up, hovering between Isidro and the sea.

“Elves follow our hearts,” he says. “If we care, if we feel a spark of love, or interest, or joy, or fun, we follow it.”

Isidro digs his hands in his pockets. He’s starting to cry.

“You ever wish you didn’t?”

Puck looks at the vast array of sunset colors painting the sky, his tiny body hovering in place.

And then he smiles.

“No,” he says. “No I don’t.”[7]

---------

Schierke doesn’t know how long she’s been walking.

Ivarela was called away ages ago to help with healing, so it’s just Schierke, and the sea, and the gloaming.

She pauses, watching the last sliver of the sun slip below the water’s edge.

She feels him before she sees him.

“Knight of the Skeleton,” she says formally, “art thou dead or alive?”[8]

His horse is utterly still beside her.

She looks up and meets his glowing gaze.

“I am,” he says, “a remnant of life, not yet dead.”

Schierke glares at him. “And what of Danaan?”

He seems to hesitate, then says, “Your mistress, the mage Flora, could not bear that—”

He stops. Then begins again.

“The mortal woman whom Danaan was previously incarnated as, in addition to my own physical body, were marked with the Brand of Sacrifice at the Ascension ritual of the God Hand Void, some 1000 years ago. Our eternal souls were thus bound forever to the dark, to the Vortex of Souls.”

His skull face turns toward the darkening sea.

“Flora did not wish this,” he says, “would not abide it. And so she broke a great taboo, and bound the existential remnants of our beings to two physical objects: this armor you see before you, and the great Cherry Tree of Elfhelm.”[9]

Schierke clenches her fist around her staff.

“So such a thing is possible.”

He looks at her, sorrow in his glowing eyes.

“I am merely a shadow, a fragment of feeling, of who I…. And Danaan, when she glimpsed the enormity of that which she…which we had experienced…she chose not to remember her previous existence. Her life with me. And thus, she became another person entirely.”[10]

They are both silent, listening to the sea.

“There is no real way to defeat death,” says the Knight of the Skeleton. “All stories come to an end, one way, or another.”

Schierke turns from him, and she watches the waves as they wear away the shore.

[1] V41 E360

[2] V22 E185

[3] similar to in V17 E130 and V37 E328

[4] V24 E197

[5] builds on Isidro’s characterization in V18 E141, but more so V29 E247-249 and to a lesser extend V30 E258. The seed of that conflict is in V18, but it doesn’t become explicit.

[6] a reference to multiple occasions, but in particular V24 E205 and V25 E215.

[7] Here’s the deal: Isidro lives in a world of violence and wants to be a swordsman. In the world of violence that Isidro lives in, the willingness to do violence against other human beings is the rule, not the exception. (Fighting trolls or Sea God whiskers isn’t the same.)Yet Isidro has unconsciously and unwillingly retained a revulsion for violence that has only before appeared in children, like Guts at age like 6 and Casca when she killed a man in V6 E16.

This leads to two things. Firstly, this instinctive understanding of the gravity of committing murder is a severe drawback for Isidro if he continues to try becoming the “ultimate fighter.” Severe enough that it’s likely to put that dream out of reach for a very simple reason: he’ll be dead.

So, what to do? Well, he could keep trying and try to become a cold-blooded killer with no remorse, like most of the people here.

He could keep trying to be like Guts. But he’s not trying to be like the grown-up Guts. He’s trying to be like Guts the Hundred-Man-Killer, who was himself failing to live up to his full potential as a member of the human community. Guts has developed away from that because it’s overly simplistic (mind, at the time he focused so much on not truly fairly devaluing his own skills that he missed everything else he was doing for the people around him, but that’s another analysis of Guts’ low self-esteem as seen through Bonfire of Dreams, and this is about Isidro).

Or Isidro could do what I had him do here, and decide that this hate of killing is a dealbreaker as far as becoming his dream. Decide to accept himself, to allow an aversion to killing to become a revulsion, and then a motivation.

You know, I didn’t have a plan like this when I started writing. I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do with Isidro. I knew that Miura had planted some seeds with his character during Vrittanis, but those seeds (like most of the seeds that appeared to be planted there) never bore fruit. They may have eventually, and he may have even had something planned, or just have come up with a cleverer outgrowth than what I wrote here.

But honestly, I really like this scene. I think it ties well thematically to the larger ideas of the series about development of the self and the role that dreams play in that, as well as providing a nice bridge between the older and younger characters, as Guts and Casca here become the “road not traveled” for Isidro.

He’s a good kid in the end.

[8] Skully’s weird state was covered most thoroughly in V41 E363.

[9] This is a rather straightforward explanation for the visions in V41 E362 and what was referenced in E363. The woman that was seen in those visions was clearly a parallel Casca. Both of them were branded at Void’s ascension, like how Guts and Casca were branded at Griffith’s ascension (Void’s position in front of the God Hand, the presence of the eclipse, and the woman’s brand being in the same place, all point to this parallel).  That means, as we learned way back in V3 E0H, they’d end up in the Vortex. As established in V28 E237 and V41 E363, Flora was very good friends with them both. Logical third step is she tried to stop that from happening. Wish I could take credit for this idea, but I picked it up from somewhere back when I was very involved in the online Berserk community—if you know who originated the idea, please comment and link.

[10] The idea here is this: the reason that Skull Knight was able to say “there’s no guarantee your wish will be her wish,” demonstrating deep insight into the psyche (as seen in V40 E354) of a person he never actually met, is that something similar happened between him and Danaan. This would also resonate with the “circle/spiral” of karma binding the old generation (Skully, Danaan, Flora) to the new, as referenced in V26 E222 and E226 and V28 E237

Chapter Text

Guts wakes with the dawn, eye cracking open slowly—then doesn’t move.

Casca’s in bed with him. He doesn’t remember how, but he’s wearing…nothing. And she is most definitely…

Her eyes open, and she looks up from where her head rests on his chest.

“Morning,” she mutters.

“Uh, why are you naked?” he asks.

Casca curls closer to him. “You were cold,”[1] she says, shutting her eyes again and pulling up the blanket. “Go back to sleep for a while, Guts. You need it.”

He just stares at her for long minutes, watching her breathe.

She opens her eyes again and glares at him. “You’re not sleeping.”

“I’ve slept enough,” he says dismissively.

Again, that tightness in her face he remembers from yesterday. She sits up, covers falling, and he glances at her breasts before he can stop himself.

His eye focuses on her face, and he feels his own cheeks color very slightly.

“So,” she says, her words careful, “you’re feeling closer to normal?”

He blinks. “Yeah, I—”

The punch comes from his blind spot with no warning, sending him slamming down against the mattress.

He sits up, arm rising instinctively to block her next punch, and he looks at her in confusion. “Hey, what’re you—”

Her other hand slaps him instead, and he reels back, off balance. She follows him, eyes full of fury, fist clenching again.[2] He moves his head in time to spot her next blow, and manages to dodge. When she doesn’t hit anything she falls forward, her hand landing on the mattress to his left. Her shoulder brushes his chest.

He raises his right arm, grips her shoulders before she can move away. Her head is just below his face.

He should be angry, really, but…he just wants to understand.

“Talk to me,” he says quietly, “will ya?”

Casca jerks away from him, her right fist clenching—but then her eyes meet his.

“Please.”

She holds very still for a moment.

Then Guts sees tears gather in the corners of her eyes.

Her fists relax, and she sits back. She slowly brings her legs up in front of her, wrapping her arms around them, her head bowing.

“I…” she sniffs, shakes her head, “I won’t….I can’t watch that again, Guts.”

He stares at her, confused.

“You’re…you’re so stupid,” she whispers, reaching a hand forward and shoving his left arm, what’s left of it. “You act like this is…like this armor is just another weapon, like using it is…” she shakes her head, drawing her hand back.

“I…” she looks up at him, and there are tears streaming down her face, “I know you’re trying to protect me, to protect all of us. But, this?” she nudges his leg with her foot, “It’s not just a body, Guts. It’s your body, it’s you, and…and I…”

She suddenly leans forward on her knees, pressing her head to his chest. He stares down at her, as confused as he has been for the whole conversation.

“I can’t watch you die like that, Guts,” Casca sobs. “I can’t I—you have to stop using the armor, Guts, I can’t watch as you…”

He brings his hand up to her hair. “Hey, I’m not gonna—”

“Bullshit,” she snarls, mood shifting lightning-quick, her head jerking up so she can glare at him. “I saw what it did to you in that fight, I held you down while they pried that thing out of your skin and your bone.”

His eye widens—he can’t remember that, but…well, he does know this time was…

He swallows, his jaw hardening. “Cas, I have to—”

She shoves him.

“You’re not listening!” she shouts. “I can’t, I won’t watch you die in that thing!”

He hesitates. “You’re sayin’ you’ll leave—”

“I’m saying,” she growls, “that every time you let that thing eat you, I’m going to stand in front of you, no matter what.”

He gawks at her, horrified. “Casca, you…you can’t—”

“I can,” she hisses, “and I will, because if you won’t value your own skin and blood properly,” she holds her hands palm-up between them, and his eye is drawn to the barely healed outlines of what it’d cost her to get him out of the armor, “then value mine,” she finishes. Her voice fades to a whisper by the end.

He looks back at her. In her eyes, he sees…

He licks his lips. “Casca, I…like I said, to fight at all now, I need—”

“We’re on a magical island full of mages and witches and elves,” she retorts. “What if I went to every one and made them pour healing magic into you until your damn eye grew back? Would you stop using the armor then?’

Guts hesitates. Thinks about it.

Finally, he lowers his head. “I—I need its power,” he says, voice deepening.

“Need it for what?”

He looks at her. “To get our boy back.”

Her mouth opens, but he continues, “And…”

He looks down at his hand, which is lying in his lap. Watches his fist clench. “And to get him,” Guts hisses. “To get all of them.[3]”

There’s shocked silence.

“You…you want to get all of them?” echoes Casca incredulously.

He looks at her, and there is a depth of malevolence in his eye that almost makes her hesitate.

Almost.

She leans forward, putting her hand over his clenched fist. “You’ll die, in that armor, if you keep this up.”

He doesn’t respond.

Casca’s eyes flicker closed in pain, and then she looks at him again.

“It’s not worth it.”

His eye widens.

She reaches out, taking his hand in both of hers. He unclenches it as she draws it toward her. She bends her forehead to press against the backs of his fingers.

“It’s not worth you.”

He looks at her, and…

He feels something shake loose inside him.

He closes his eye. Squeezes her hand.

I’ll…I’ll just have to make it quick.

“One more time,” he says.

[1] Referencing V4 E0M, and also a general trend in the Golden Age of Casca being naked as a visual marker of her vulnerability. Here, that’s not something she’s upset about anymore, building the character/bringing her closer to where she was in V10-12.

[2] Casca behavior here builds on V9 E45, V10 E48, and V11 E67.

[3] Guts’ focus is often depicted as being on Griffith, for obvious reasons, but he wants them ALL as established in V1 E0A and V24 E202

Chapter Text

On the walls above the gates of Falconia, Princess Charlotte is pacing back and forth, Anna watching her with concern.

“I’m sure Lord Griffith will be fine, he’s done this so many times,” the servant says, trying to be reassuring despite her confusion.

Charlotte ignores her, gaze fixed over the edge of the wall, on a set of distant standing stones.[1]

On the other side of the gate, Sonia is leaning on the battlements, biting her nails, eyes fixed on the same place as Charlotte.[2]

“That’s a filthy habit,” says Mule. Sonia ignores him.

“There!” cries Anna, loudly enough for all to hear. A glimmer of white is appearing among the stones.

Charlotte almost collapses with relief against the battlements, while Sonia rockets down the stairs and snatches the first saddled horse she finds, leaving behind a furious soldier and a frustrated Mule.

By the time Charlotte pulls herself together and makes her breathless descent from the walls, Griffith has almost reached the gate.[3] Sonia’s riding beside him, her face satisfied as a cat.

Charlotte leans against the wall at the foot of the stairs, smiling and almost crying as Anna hovers anxiously over her.

Then Charlotte looks at Griffith’s troops, and her face falls. He had been in unusual haste, and it was hard to say how many had gone with him—but she’s sure he left with a far greater number than she can see here.

“Indeed,” she hears Griffith saying to Sonia, as if echoing her thoughts, “losses were greater than anticipated, even among war demons. Proof of the danger which was presented by our foe.”

His gaze falls on Charlotte as she steps off the stairs within the gate, and he gives her that gracious smile that always weakens her knees. She smiles back at him, inwardly scolding herself for worrying. Why should this battle have been different from all his other victories? I am so foolish, to imagine that somehow—

“It was because of those two, right?” says Sonia eagerly.

Something strange happens in Griffith’s face at these words. Something…he is always serene and controlled, of course, but somehow he becomes…more so?

It’s only for an instant, and Charlotte blinks as he turns to Sonia. I must have…have imagined, I…I am so…

“Those…two?” he inquires calmly.

Sonia nods, clearly pleased with herself. “I couldn’t see details from that distance, of course, but I got a look with my powers. I think that dark-skinned woman was in command of the enemy, right? And the man with the big sword?”[4]

Charlotte stands very, very still. A wave of memory overtakes her.

Memory of a dark-skinned woman, and a man wielding a massive sword. A woman and man who had plunged into the depths of darkness without hesitation to rescue Griffith.[5] People she’d trusted with her life, with Griffith’s life, when he was…

Griffith is almost at her side her, now. He turns from Sonia to look at Charlotte, with that familiar light, warm expression.

“Traitors,” he says dismissively to Sonia, “of the former Band of the Falcon.”

“Will you go hunting them down?” asks Sonia eagerly.

“There is no longer a need,” he says, halting his horse beside Charlotte. As he dismounts, he says to Sonia, “They shall come to me, soon enough.”

He turns and bows to Charlotte. “Princess.”

She smiles. “I was worried,” she says.

But something inside her has begun to grow…

---------

The only others downstairs when Casca arrives—she’s insisted Guts at least rest for the morning—are Isidro and Puck.

Isidro’s staring out the window, and Puck’s sitting quietly on his shoulder. But when Isidro hears Casca step off the stairs, he turns around and his face clears a little of something…

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey,” she replies, looking towards the kitchen area. “I’m glad Serpico’s getting some rest, but…”

Isidro shrugs. “I got no idea howta cook. You?”

She snorts. “Stew, back when…a long time ago. Not going to help at the moment though.”

Isidro’s stomach growls loudly.

“Not to worry,” calls Danaan as she opens the door, a basket of bread and pastries in her arms. “But I’m afraid,” she says, setting her burden on the table nearest the door, “I must immediately depart to continue caring for the poor mages.”

The elf queen looks at them, her face kind. “The funeral will be held at the old village, when the sun reaches its zenith.”

She turns to go, but before she steps out the door, Casca catches her arm.

“Danaan,” she says, “he was…” she swallows. “The Falcon’s invasion seems to have been motivated almost entirely by my own and Guts’ presence. If we remain here—”

“You are an inhabitant of Skellig, of Elfhelm,” says Danaan, gentle but firm. “Both you,[6] and, as your partner, Guts. Do not fear: we have the capability, with more foreknowledge and time for preparation, to repel the Falcon far more effectively than we did yesterday. I am grateful for your aid in fending off that attack at such short notice: we here are not accustomed to acting in such a way.”

“You are one of my people, Casca, and you will always have a place here.”

“I wish you to feel no obligation to leave. And,” her eyes crinkle slightly, “should you depart for any reason, you will always be welcome to return.”

Casca feels her eyes brim with tears. “Thank you, Queen Danaan.”

The elf monarch smiles, then gently kisses Casca’s forehead before walking out of the door.

Casca turns around, wiping her eyes. Isidro and Puck are already stuffing themselves, of course.

“We can do some sparring after breakfast, if you’d like,” Casca says to Isidro, sitting down across from them.

Isidro hesitates, chewing slowly. “I’d like that,” he mutters. “But…you should know…I’m thinkin’…”

Casca smiles, her hands moving as she sorts out two heaps of breakfast from the basket. “You and Isma seem very close,” she says, almost coyly.

Isidro blushes, looking sheepish. “Yeah,” he says, “I…I was thinkin’ I’d ask Roderick if I could…”

There’s silence for long moments. Then—

“Sounds like a great idea,” says Guts, coming off the stairs wearing the lower half of his armor. Isidro jumps, and Casca gives Guts an annoyed look that he ignores. She mutters something about stubborn idiots and rest, but pushes one of the stacks she’d been making towards Guts as he sits down beside her.

“Uh, yeah…I…uh…” says Isidro awkwardly, face bright red, unable to make eye contact.

Puck, standing on the boy’s head, stands up straight. “Isidro’s goin’ off ta be a great master of the seas!” he cries, saluting with a piece of bread.

Isidro ducks his head in embarrassment.

“Good for you,” Guts says, and the boy jerks up to look at him. “Clingin’ to a dream…” Guts shakes his head, then bites into a pastry. “If it ain’t right anymore, then that’s the way it is. Fightin’ it’s a fool’s choice. An’ this is the best time to figure that out, what with Roderick and Isma right close by.”

Guts’ eye turns to Puck. “You fancy goin’ with him?”

Puck’s eyebrows rise. “I…well I hadn’ actually…”

“Plenty of ‘neat things’[7] to see an’ adventures to be had at sea,” says Guts. “’Specially now.”

Puck seems to imagine himself as the captain of a ship. “Puck, conqueror of the seas!” he crows.

Guts rolls his eye, then blinks as Ivarela rockets by his face on her way to Puck.

“Oh no, don’t tell me you’re going to leave,” she says to the other elf, her voice sick-sweet.

Schierke is descending the stairs, dark circles under her eyes. The table in the corner would be too crowded with her, so they move the tables back together in the middle of the floor and all sit down together, just in time for Serpico to come down.

They all linger over breakfast, chatting about food, about the house, or just sitting quietly. Until, as noon approaches, they leave together.

[1] The ones seen in V40 E357.

[2] The rivalry (stemming almost completely from Sonia) between Charlotte and Sonia for Griffith’s attention comes up in like every chapter they both appear in.

[3] This is a big long corridor, as seen in V39 E334.

[4] Sonia being able to see things happening at some distance is established in V38 E334, seen in action in V40 E356

[5] V10 E50-E57

[6] This was established as significant in V41 E364

[7] V1 E0B

Chapter Text

Roderick, Isma, Magnifico, and Azan meet them where the village once stood. There are many people gathered around the edges of the devasted area. All have come to honor Farnesse.

In the center of the ridged volcanic stone that fills the clearing, there is a simple wooden coffin.

A few minutes after they arrive, a hush passes over the gathering, and everyone grows still. Guts takes his place beside Casca as Danaan steps forward from the crowd to stand at the head of the coffin.

The flowerstorm monarch begins to speak about…death and trees and some other metaphysical business that Guts can’t be bothered to untangle. None of it really has to do with who Farnesse was.

He notices when Casca begins to cry. He steps closer and takes her hand. She grips his fingers tightly.

After that, he doesn’t take his eye off of Farnesse’s coffin.

This feelin’, wellin’ up inside me…it’s…strange. Gratitude, grief, sorrow…wonder? All mixed together…I…I’m not sure how to…

Then Danaan retreats from the cleared stone-covered space. When she reaches the edge of the empty area, she turns around, and raises her hands.

All across the lava stone, time accelerates.

For an instant, as Guts watches, eye wide, the wooden insides of the coffin are rotted away. He has one, final glimpse of Farnesse Vandimion, whose body he realizes is beginning to…

Then she’s gone.

She sinks into the earth, which has begun to writhe, sprouting trees and grass and all manner of wild things…

In just a minute or two, the apparently solid stone has been broken apart until it’s indistinguishable from dirt. Remade by the onslaught of growing things, transforming the clearing into a young forest.

When Guts turns his head, he sees that Ged is standing nearby.

Seeing him looking, the aged guru smiles. “When it is safe,” he says, “we shall return here, and work spells upon the trees to make them into homes once again.” He smiles, eyes turning to Guts. “But it is already beautiful, is it not?”

Guts feels a tug at his arm from Casca. When he looks back at the clearing, time seems to have stilled. People are beginning to walk among the trees, some of which are slender, some of which are already as large as he is.

He lets Casca lead him into the forest with the other spectators, wandering along with their companions beneath the dappled light.

As they reach the tallest tree in the center of the once-cleared space, Guts hears Casca gasp.

He follows her gaze. And he sees, as if grown naturally from the bark and sap, the shape of a woman. Farnesse looks like the prow of a ship, leaning outwards from the tree above their heads.

---------

Roderick insists that they all come to his ship for what he calls “an Ilthian Farewell.” This turns out to mean sitting around a table in Roderick’s captain’s quarters to eat, drink, and tell stories about Farnesse well into the night.

Schierke and Ivarela talk about Farnesse’s first experiences using magic. Girl and elf describe the lost woman’s wonder, her joy and gratitude.[1]

Casca can’t tell a real story, so instead she tries to recount the shadows of her memory. To tell them about how being with Farnesse had made her feel, how safe she had believed herself to be, as long as Farnesse was by her side.

Isidro is positively cackling at the end of her description of one of these fragmented memories. “I remember that!” he snorts. “You were thiiiis close to bein’ troll food! An’ then you were furious at Guts for turnin’ up to save ya, but Farny was so happy she almost fainted!”[2]

Casca stares at him, then looks at the others. “Seriously?”

Schierke hides a smile, and Guts avoids meeting her eye. His lips are twitching with suppressed laughter.

Then Serpico says, “Lady Farnesse would never have…” He pauses, starts again. “That you relied upon her so completely in moment such as that, it…it made Lady Farnesse more, more than she had ever…ever even imagined she might be.”[3]

There’s silence for long moments. Magnifico looks about to cry.

Then Puck says, “Say, Guts ever tell you lot about how Farny took ‘im prisoner?”[4]

Guts sighs as everyone around him gives him stunned looks. “Yeah—hey, Serpico, what did y’all want, anyway?”

Serpico shrugs. “There was a prophecy about a dark bird, some suspected it was the ‘dark’ swordsman. All quite misguided, not to mention wasteful, as the church so often is.”

“Wait,” says Roderick, “you didn’t even know until just now?’

Guts makes a careless gesture, “Well, not like me or Farnesse were very good interrogators—”

“She was an interrogator?” yelps Magnifico?

Guts snorts, and from Isidro’s head Puck says, “Sort of, but she mostly just got mad an’ hit Guts with that big whip.”

Isidro’s eyes are bugging out of his head, Schierke’s mouth is hanging open, and Casca’s never looked more confused.

Guts waves his hand dismissively. “I got repeatedly impaled by an apostle the day before, that was barely—”

“You didn’t have to heal up all those cuts!” retorts Puck.

Guts shrugs. “Anyway, it came out fair enough when I took ‘er hostage to escape—but then I just wound up protectin’ her all night from a horde of evil spirits, an’ I was so tired by mornin’ I forgot to ask why she was chasin’ me.”

Puck flies up into the middle of the table, hovering in front of Guts, and then does a flip in midair. “Yeah, you forgot—‘cause you were too busy tryin’ to stop her climbin’ on top of you and chokin’ you to death while she was buck naked!”

Guts’ eye briefly closes in exasperation, and then he glares at Puck. “She was possessed,” he grows, “it’s not like it counts—”

“Nope, ‘cause I saved her from the spirit, an’ you too!” crows Puck, hands on his hips, face smug.

“Oh, is that why—” mutters Serpico. Everyone looks at him, and he squirms a little. “Well, I tracked them and arrived near the time that Puck describes,” he says awkwardly. “This recounting explains why Lady Farnesse wished for me to…well,” he looks at Guts, “take your life.”

“I’ll say—that was really embarassin’,” says Ivarela.

Guts suddenly smiles, deep feeling on his face.

“She changed so damn much,” he says. “From where she started…” Guts shakes his head. “She was incredible.”

The table falls silent. Then, Magnifico murmurs, “She…I remember her, as a child, she was like…like a ghost. Half-real—”[5]

“No,” interrupts Serpico, “even then, she…”

They all look toward him. His half-lidded eyes are faraway. “She saved me,” he says softly. “I was a child, dying in the snow. I was nothing. But she saw me. She saved me. Because she…wanted someone. Someone who would care. For her. But, even beyond that….I believe she longed for someone for whom she could…”[6]

His voice trails off.

He looks into his tankard of ale. “I wish I could have…”

There are long moments of silence. Then, Casca says, “You did.”

His eye rises to look at her, surprised. Then he begins to shake his head. “I—”

“You really think she coulda come that far, without you?” asks Guts.

“I…I only knew her for…” Roderick swallows, then catches Serpico’s eyes. “You underestimate yourself.”

No one speaks, lost in thought. Until—

“Remember the time Farny ruined my best shirt?” asks Isidro.[7]

---------

They speak and eat and drink well into the night. Finally, when the hot food runs out, they adjourn to the ship’s deck so they can watch the stars, which are flickering and drifting among the boughs of the great tree.

They pass some time in comfortable silence. Roderick, Isidro, Puck, Isma, Azan, Schierke, and Ivarela all lie flat on their backs on the deck, their eyes fixed on the heavens. Guts, Serpico, and Magnifico sit up against the rails. Casca is lying near the rest, but her head rests against Guts’ left leg.

Roderick begins it.

“My crew,” he says, “fear for their families and friends back home. As do I,” he admits, brow knitting.[8]

Magnifico sighs. “I wonder if my father…” he shakes his head. “We did not part on good terms, and now, with the world the way it is, I…I feel I must…”[9]

No one fills the silence after he speaks. Magnifico may be a fool and a coward, but out there…there are still people he cares about.

Isidro, face red and fists clenching as his eyes fix on the sky, says with false casualness, “Oy, Roderick, can I…join your crew?”

Roderick sits up to look at him. “Of course!” he cries. “And be welcome!”

Isma rolls over, shrieking with delight, and throws her arms around Isidro.

After that dies down, Guts asks, “And you, Bridge Knight?[10]”

Azan sighs, then slowly he lifts the faceplate of his armor to look at the stars.

“I think,” he says, “that there are many with need of a knight to defend them in this new world wrought by that tree.”

He lifts his pike, holding it level to the deck with an arm as steady as if carved from oak.

“And, I must admit,” Azan adds, “that I have long dreamed of slaying a dragon.”[11]

He lowers his weapon to the deck beside him.

“And you, Black Swordsman?” he asks.

Guts looks up at the stars.

“Me? I…” his fist clenches, face hardening, eye bright. “I’m gonna rescue my son.”

[1] V29 E251 and V32 E286

[2] V26 E217

[3] Refers to Farnesse’s thoughts in V26 E218 and Serpico’s reflections in V39 E349

[4] Guts, Puck, and Serpico are from this point on discussing the events of V16 E119-V17 E125

[5] V29 E252

[6] V22 E185

[7] V23 E196

[8] Remember Roderick is actually a prince of a place, as discussed in V29 E253 and V29 E255

[9] Magnifico’s difficult relationship with his father appears in V29 E251. They part in V30 E263

[10] V16 E120

[11] Did the story really earn Azan opening his helmet here?

Nah.

Honestly, I own this cheat with no regrets. Miura, God rest his soul, had Azan in the story for more than a decade without doing anything with him. I am embarrassed to admit that I straight-up forgot Azan was here for part of the time while writing this, and had to go back and add him.

But this is a nice ending. This world is, after all, “mankind’s desire.” Azan was a person who belonged in a high fantasy world, doing heroic deeds and protecting the innocent. Being in a low fantasy world as existed in Berserk back during Conviction was very difficult for him. There’s a place for him, in this new world, and it makes sense that he would embrace it given the chance.

Chapter Text

No one speaks.

Then there’s a faint thud of a fist hitting an armored leg.

“We,” snaps Casca, “is what you meant, Guts. ‘We are going to rescue our son.’ ”

Guts meets her gaze.

Fear, joy, sorrow, pride, dread—all are written in the lines and scars of his face.

Then his eye closes.

“We,” he agrees, face now expressionless.

Casca reaches out, gently squeezes his arm above the prosthetic.

He opens his eye and looks at her. Then he takes a deep breath, musters a faint smile, and nods.

“What, from—” Isidro starts to say, then stops. Everyone knows.

“Need a ship?” asks Roderick.

“Ah,” says Guts, “well—”

Schierke’s hand rises. She points to the ghostly tree branches above, drawing all eyes. “These branches: I believe I can learn to navigate them. It should be possible to use those astral paths to travel great distances at speed, and to arrive at a destination without any foreknowledge by those already there.”

“Schierke,” starts Casca, but Guts cuts her off.

“This is your home,” he says firmly. “You got that again.[1] You belong here.”

Schierke smiles at the sky, hand falling. “This home,” she says softly, “will remain here still if I should depart and return. But if I do not accompany you,” her eyes grow troubled, “I fear that, whatever the Falcon’s final intention for this world, this island will, sooner or later…”

No one speaks.

Then Schierke adds, “Apart from that, I believe my mistress was instrumental in stopping the plot of the inhumans in the past. I wish to honor her legacy, and to ensure that…” she trails off.

Finally, Guts says, “Thank you, Schierke.”

“I,” says Serpico suddenly, “shall accompany you as well.”

Most eyes turn to him. Serpico is staring into the night sky, his own eyes wide, hand touching his sword hilt.

Guts and Casca look at each other. Guts gives a small shrug, leaving it to her.

“All right,” she says quietly, seriously.

No one asks Serpico why. No one needs to.

---------

They linger until stars begin to vanish in the dawnlight. And then, it’s time for goodbyes.

There are arm clenches and nods from the men, hugs casual and fierce from the women. Casca alone navigates a middle, bowing to Roderick, Magnifico, and Azan like a knight, but hugging Isma and Isidro each tightly. Guts gives restrained nods—until his eye falls on Isidro.

Man and boy look at each other for a moment. Then, Guts nods to Isidro, too, as if he were a full-grown man.

Isidro clenches his jaw, and nods back.

As the smaller group departs the ship, Puck suddenly hovers up in front of Isidro’s face.

“Oi, stone-thief,”[2] the elf says. “I’m goin’ with them.”

Isidro stares at Puck, eyes wide.

“That runt of Guts’,” explains Puck, “he’s human o’ course, but he’s a magical bein’ as well. His parents ain’t gonna be able to teach him about that. He’ll be needin’ a godfather!” Puck puffs his chest out importantly.

Then he deflates. Smiles.

“You’ll be all right, Isi-doro,”[3] he says softly. “Just follow your heart. Got that?”

Isidro screws up his eyes and face, tears threatening to escape. “Get goin’ already,” he grumbles, “ya dumb fairy!”

Puck’s smile deepens, and he swoops forward to plant a kiss on the end of Isidro’s nose. The boy squawks in indignation, hand flailing to fend the elf off. But Puck is already far away, laughing fit to burst as he flies down after the four companions now standing on dry land.

[1] By “again,” Guts is referencing the loss of Schierke’s home in V26-27, as well as her feelings of having found a new home shown especially in V41.

[2] Stone thief refers to V19 E146. It’s a Japanese play on words.

[3] This is how it’s transcribed when Puck calls Isidro “stone thief,” “doro” being “thief” in Japanese

Chapter Text

The sun is almost above the horizon when the six of them—four humans, two elves—get to the house. All go straight to their rooms. There’s no need to rush the start of this next journey, and today sleep is first on everyone’s mind.

But, as Serpico lies down, he finds himself unable to rest. Out his window, he glimpses three figures flying past on broomsticks. He knows from the mages they’d met on the way that these will be some of the witches, eager to see the outside world. They’re racing to catch Roderick’s ship before it leaves the realm of vague time. They are off in search of some grand adventure, so that they might become…

Serpico rolls away from the window. Wills himself to close his eyes, to sleep…

But each time he sees the darkness, those terrible moments repeat. Over and over. He tries to will himself to sleep instead of looking back, instead of imagining everything he could have done differently…

He’s always been a reflective sort of person.

How he hates that now.

---------

“Spoiled by the pace,” mutters Guts as he yawns, annoyed at himself. Removing the armor, he says, “Time was, I’d’a been happy if I got three hours in three days!”

Casca, pulling her boots off, gives him a flat look. “Good way to die, that.”

Guts snorts. “Good way to live, when night means evil spirits come huntin’, and they turn up in shadows in daytime too.”

Casca turns away and doesn’t respond to him, focusing on changing her clothes for sleep.  As her nightshirt drops over her body, she hears Guts hiss.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he says, pulling his prosthetic arm from his skin. He flexes his shoulders. “Jus’ a bit stiff.”

He feels her at his side.

And, with no warning, her hands are on his skin under his shirt…

His breath catches: he’s not used to someone just…

He flinches.

Then he clenches his fist and steadies himself.

Casca doesn’t acknowledge any of it. She just keeps running her hands over him, prodding gently at the place where his arm meets his back.

“Lie down,” she says. “Your muscles are a stiff mess.”

He hesitates.

“You need it,” she says quietly. “Lie down, Guts.” Her hands rest against his sides.

Guts closes his eye, then tugs his shirt off and does as she’s said, lying with his stomach on the bed and his bare back exposed.

It’s jus’ like before, he tells himself, ain’t it, her bein’ at my back when…[1]

He feels Casca sit beside him, but she’s on his blind side.

He feels his body tensing, even as he tries to…

Her warm breath is against his ear.

“Guts,” she whispers.

That’s all she says.

He closes his eye again. His right hand unclenches from a fist.

He feels her running her hands over his back. He focuses on breathing evenly…but he feels…this, it’s too, this isn’t how I us’ally…

Casca presses her fingers deep into the muscles at his shoulder.

He tenses, truly automatically, this time, but as she keeps applying pressure—the pain changes. He feels the muscle loosen.

“You’ve got,” he hears her saying quietly, “so many scars now.”

Guts blinks. Almost laughs, feeling some tension ease. She sounds sad, and he’s not sure what to say in response. They’re just scars. He doesn’t know how to care about scars.

Then…

He feels something very, very soft on his back.

He realizes that Casca…her lips are pressing gently against, above, below, the big scar in the middle of his back, the one Slan gave him.[2]

He shudders instinctively, then…

So soft, warm…

He relaxes.

He feels Casca move, feels her fingers pressing against the scar. He can’t feel it on his skin because of the scar tissue, but the muscles beneath…

He can’t remember ever feeling quite so…

As Casca moves over his body, Guts slowly lets his eye close.

Feels her touching, pressing, sometimes gently kissing his skin. Always, each time, releasing…

She moves downwards, until she reaches the lower part of his back, the relatively unscarred skin at the base of his spine.

Her hands caress the skin there.

Her forehead presses against his body, and…

He doesn’t expect the small sob that escapes him.

Then she’s there, in front of him, before his left eye. And even with those threads of strange blackness that fill so much of his sight now, she’s…she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever…

She reaches out. Strokes his cheek.

“Hey,” she says, quietly. “You okay?”

Guts opens his mouth. He can feel tears on his face…

He can’t think of what to say.

After a few moments, Casca smiles. Her forehead touches his.

“It’s all right,” she says. “I know.”

He closes his eye, and lets her guide him to rest with his head on her chest, his right ear over her heart.

They lie still.

“I love you,” he whispers.

He feels her smile. Her fingers run gently through his hair.

“Yeah,” she tells him, “I know that too.”[3]

[1] This refers to V7 E22 and, somewhat, V9 E47. It’s been a long time since then.

[2] This is the one that was also astral and wouldn’t heal, leading to Guts using the armor for the first time. He got it in V26 E219. 

[3] This was an impulsive scene, and I gotta say, I adore it. It’s very intimate and soft and kind and… And it also, on a general level, is of course resonating with the scene where Guts and Casca go back over their trauma. That scene was about Casca being vulnerable in ways that she was when she was raped. In a way that is both similar yet very different, this scene is that happening to Guts. He’s in his most vulnerable position, unable to see, not moving, and he’s trusting Casca absolutely to do something that will help him heal, feel better, feel his body more. There’s the overarching fact that, when he trusted her like this before, it led to unbearable pain. And there’s also Guts’ own history of trauma, including being raped as a child, the Eclipse, and even the experience with Slan. After so much focus on Casca’s trauma, which was more direct, it was good to delve into Guts’—here, and in other parts of this story.

Chapter Text

Schierke is exhausted, more from emotions than from anything else. Still, she gets up after just a few hours of sleep and goes to see Ged.

He is largely recovered from the spell, but still spending most of his time resting in the queen’s palace, where many of the mage villagers are staying. Several witches call hello to Schierke as she walks through the halls, and she greets them…but doesn’t stop to speak to anyone. Ivarela prods her to explain, but Schierke ignores the elf’s comments.

It’s like I…I am half-gone already.

Ged is in his private chamber. He sits up in his bed and listens to her request with a serene expression on his face.

When she finishes, he sighs. “Your mistress’s footsteps indeed,” he says.

 Schierke looks at him with sudden intensity. “No,” she says, fist clenching on her staff. “That will not be his fate. Or mine.”[1]

Ged smiles. “I hope not, child. And in truth, already much is different. The human Danaan once was did not survive the incarnation ceremony,[2] as Miss Casca did. Nor did she ever take full possession of her memories, as Casca has.”

Schierke looks at him livelily. “And Guts?”

Ged smiles serenely for long moments, eyes full of thought.

Then he slightly inclines his head. “I understand that Guts emerged from the armor this time without your aid. This is good. He may yet learn to tame the hellfire[3] within him, or even to…” his voice trails off.

“I can teach you what you wish to know, child,” Ged tells her. “This is knowledge which Flora never needed. The God Hand, too, walk not a circle but a spiral path.[4] And their plans have advanced farther this time than that one.”

Ged gazes at her for several moments, and Schierke gives him a look of unshakeable determination.

He sighs. “Flora,” he says quietly, “was not there, at the moment that either of them died.”

Schierke’s eyes widen. Ivarela is speaking indignantly, fiercely, but both mages ignore her.

Schierke’s hand grips her staff tightly. “I understand,” she says.

That will not be their fate. And to prevent it, I shall be beside them, beside him, to the end.

---------

A black sun hangs above…

Casca…

I can’t…

Reach…

“Guts?”

And she…

Her eyes…open…

“Guts, wake up!”

Have to, can’t, crushed…

she’s screaming, she’s…

“GUTS!”

He sits bolt upright in the bed, gasping for air. Sweat pours down his face, he’s shaking all over…

The room is full of sunlight, and he reflexively closes his eye, but that just…

He feels something on his right shoulder and whirls around.

Casca’s there.

What he feels is her hand on his skin.

And he sees…that her eyes are brimming with tears and understanding.

He pulls her onto the blanket covering his lap, embraces her as tight as he can and buries his face in her hair.

She presses herself to his bare chest, curls her arms so he can hold her closer.

Her hand rises to cover his where it rests near her shoulder.

Slowly, his racing heart, his breath, return to normal.

Long minutes pass. Neither speak.

Finally, Casca stirs. Guts loosens his arm, and she shifts so that she can meet his eye.

Guts lowers his head, and their foreheads touch.

“Cas,” he says, eye now closed, “Listen, I…you should really stay—”

“I’m his mother,” she says.

Guts looks at her. His worried gaze meets her determined one.

“That has to…” Casca sighs. “I’m his mother,” her right hand strokes Guts’ check, “And I won’t let you go alone.”

“I…I wouldn’ be..”

“Guts.”

They look at each other. Finally, Guts closes his eye and nods.

Casca leans forward to kiss him, her hands cradling his face.

She presses her forehead to his.

“Guts…about Schierke and Serpico…”

Guts leans back. “They’ve got their own reasons for comin’.”

Casca nods. “I know, but…” her eyes close. “But Farnesse,” her voice catches.

Guts’ hand is on her back, and he gently strokes her skin through her nightdress.

He feels her relaxing a little, and she takes a deep breath before going on. “Farnesse died because she was standing next to us.”

Guts’ face tightens.

He wants to tell her it isn’t true—but he knows that’d be a lie. His hand falls, and he slowly shifts back to lean against the headboard. Casca kneels at his side as his face tilts upwards.

“He’s gonna target the people standin’ next to us,” Guts says. “That what you’re sayin’?”

“It…” Casca swallows. “It makes sense. He’ll...he’ll use our friends as…”

“Sacrifices,” Guts says coldly, “to get to…”

His fist is clenched in the sheet, and he’s breathing roughly. “I won’ let him…”

Guts feels Casca’s hand over his.

He closes his eye, deepens his breath, then looks at her.

He turns his hand over, squeezes her palm gently.

She gives him a sad smile, then looks down.

“Guts,” she says, “Farnesse,” she bites back a sob, brushes a tear away with her free hand, “died without ever…knowing, really, why.”

She meets Guts’ gaze, and her free hand clenches into a fist. Her gaze is steady. “We owe it to them, to her, to tell them why this is happening. All of it.”

His eye widens, and his back stiffens.

Casca doesn’t waver. “They’re going to help us end this,” she says, voice determined. “They should know how it began.”

Both are silent for a long time. Outside, the sun is falling low in the sky, and only little light enters through their window.

Guts closes his eye, leans his head back.

“All right."

[1] Something similar to Skully’s situation happening to Guts, teased most explicitly in V26 E 226.

[2] As seen in V41 E362

[3] V24 E202 and V41 E363

[4] V26 E222

Chapter Text

As dusk falls, Serpico and Puck make dinner. Schierke arrives back as the others eat, and announces that she thinks she’ll be able to navigate the World Spiral Tree in another day or two.

“It is not all that difficult,” she says, yawning as Serpico fills her plate. “It is a process of identifying the material location of the object of one’s will, aligning it to the internal compass of the existential form, then establishing a resonance along the branches—”

She looks around at their blank faces.

“Uh,” she sighs a little. “It will not be long.”

They’re all at the single table still, and the house around them feels strangely quiet. Guts is almost relieved when, after they finish stacking dirty plates for the brownies, Casca says, “We’d like to talk with all of you.”

She glances at the front door of the house, which doesn’t have a lock. “Upstairs, where we won’t be interrupted.”

Serpico’s eyes remain hooded, and Schierke’s brow knits in confusion.

Guts glances at Puck as the elf lands on his shoulder. “Oi, Guts…”

Guts looks away from him. But he knows—it may have been a long time since it came up, but he remembers how the empath thing works—Puck can sense the turmoil inside him.

They go to Guts’ and Casca’s room. Schierke and Serpico bring chairs to sit on, while Guts and Casca sit alongside each other on the bed. Puck perches on Serpico’s shoulder and Ivarela sits on the brim of Schierke’s hat.

Casca, sitting to Guts’ left, gazes down at her hands. When everyone has sat down, she doesn’t look up, her fingers twisting in her lap.

The silence stretches, until Guts opens his mouth to say her name, eye filled with concern. But Schierke speaks first.

“There is power in putting things into words,” the young witch says quietly.

Casca looks up at Schierke. And she feels the mass of anxiety in her stomach…not dissipate, but…focus.

Casca gives the girl a small smile, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath.

Then she opens her eyes and begins.

“Schierke, you know some of what we’re going to tell you all already, from saving me with…with Farnesse.”[1] She swallows, then bends forward with her elbows on her knees, hands raised and clasped in front of her.

“You all know,” she says, “That the boy who appeared at the full moon was Guts’ and my son, and that he is…trapped within…Griffith.” She hesitates at the name only a moment, then presses on. “In order to get to Guts and I without being stopped by our son, Griffith,” her eyes meet theirs, moving between Schierke and Serpico, “will try to use you like…like he did Farnesse.”

Serpico nods. Schierke gives Casca a gentle smile.

“We know,” the witch says. “And we accept the risks.”

Casca looks at her hands. “But you don’t know why.”

Serpico shrugs. Schierke says, “We do not need such knowledge,” her smile includes them both. “We have trust in you. It is all right—”

“No, it isn’t,” says Guts.

They all look at him, Casca tilting her head slightly back.

“This ain’t like the journey here,” Guts says. “This is about goin’ into danger, maybe all the way down into Hell itself.” He shakes his head. “If we don’ tell you why, we’re…we’re just usin’ you.”

“To reach our dream,” Casca whispers.

Guts flinches. Then bows his head.

Casca straightens and looks at the others again. “You need to know—we want you to know everything we can tell you about…about our story. It’ll be yours, too, then. And,” Casca’s left hand moves to rub her brand, “and everyone deserves to understand their part in a story,” she finishes, eyes growing distant.

Guts slings his arm around her shoulders, the metal of the prosthetic touching her hand over the brand.

Casca grips his iron fingers, closes her eyes for a moment. Then she looks at Serpico, Schierke, Puck, and Ivarela.

“I met Griffith when I was about your age, Schierke,” Casca says.[2] “My family was very poor, and gave me as a ‘servant to a passing nobleman. He tried to rape me before we even reached his manor.”

“Griffith saved me. He gave me a sword, and told me to fight back. I killed the nobleman with his blade. And…and when I was frightened by what I’d done, Griffith put a blanket around me.”

Casca’s hands fall to her lap, and she looks down. “Power, kindness, and a chance at a world, a life, where I…I would not accept such…where I would be more than…” She breaks off, pressing her hands to her face to wipe away tears.

Guts squeezes her shoulders. “An’ here you are,” he says.

She starts, turning to look at him. He nods towards her sword, leaning by his near the door.

“Once he gave it to you,” says Puck, “it was yours.”

Casca turns to stare at the elf. Then she sees Schierke smile at her, too. Feels Guts’ arm around her, tight.

Casca swallows. She reaches over to gently squeeze Guts’ knee, and continues.

“I followed Griffith for a few years before Guts came along.” She elbows him. “And almost killed me.”

“’Scuse me, you shot me, then tried to ride me down, on account of me defendin’ myself ‘gainst Corkus an’ his morons tryin’ to rob me!”

By the time he’s finished, Serpico’s eyebrows are high, the elves are howling with laughter, and Schierke’s hands are over her mouth.

“Anyway,” says Casca briskly, “then Griffith almost killed Guts. But,” she looks back up at Guts, and a private smile passes between them, “but Guts survived, and joined up to follow Griffith. And eventually we became friends.”

“In spite of you persecutin’ me,” Guts grumbles.

“You definitely deserved at least half of it.”

“An’ the other half?”

Casca shrugs, unapologetic.

Serpico and Schierke exchange a look, and Ivarela tinnily voices her opinion about annoyingly-in-love-people rubbing it in other people’s faces.

Casca turns back to the others, and her smile fades.

Ivarela looks embarrassed, and Puck flies over to elbow her for good measure.

“Griffith,” Casca goes on, ignoring the elves, “wanted a kingdom, and he set his sights on Midland.”

Serpico nods. “With success, for a time, if I recall correctly.”

Casca nods back. “It was going well,” she says. “So well that Guts here figured it’d be a good time to leave.”

Casca looks at him. His gaze turns downward.

“You really couldn’t have known,” she says quietly. He glances up toward her, face pained. “He…he should have said something,” Casca says. She squeezes Guts’ knee again.

He hesitates, then gives her a small nod.

Casca takes a deep breath, then looks back at the others. “Griffith…when Guts left, Griffith got emotional. He overreached with the princess of Midland, the king’s only child.”

Serpico’s eyes crack open. “That is the reason no rationale was given for his disappearance!”

Casca nods. “The surviving Falcons became fugitives, while this fool,” she jerks her head at Guts, “was meditating in the woods.”

The others look skeptical.

“Improvin’ my sword work,” says Guts.

“And meditating on the meaning of life,” Casca adds, annoyance in her tone. Then she hesitates. “But, I suppose, if you hadn’t done that—the sword work, and strengthening what was inside you—you might not have…”

She trails off, eyes distant, until Guts gently squeezes her shoulders.

She starts, then seems to remember the others. She takes a deep breath and continues.

“Guts came back the night before we planned to set off to save Griffith from Midland’s dungeons. That was when Guts and I…” Casca pauses. A smile and a blush spread over her face.

Ivarela infers her meaning and makes a pointed comment. Schierke goes red, Serpico’s face becomes blank, and Puck laughs hysterically.

Guts and Casca look at each other. Smile.

“Yeah,” says Casca. “Something like that.”

She looks down. Draws her hands from Guts’ leg and iron arm to her lap, where her fists clench.

“We rescued Griffith,” she says, and there’s a new note of hardness in her tone. “But he was…he’d been tortured for a whole year. His arms and legs would never work properly again, his tongue was cut out, and his…his skin, his body…” Casca sucks in a breath.

“Griffith…he lived by a dream, lived for a dream. He was his dream, it was what made him shine, that belief, dazzling all of us. It made us believe in him, made us love—” She stops.

Then she feels Guts hold her a little closer.

She turns her head towards him for a moment and closes her eyes. Breathes him in.

Then she opens her eyes and looks at the others. “Griffith’s dream of taking a kingdom was no longer possible,” she concludes.

“Unless he ran into an elf,” says Puck, beating tiny flecks of healing dust from his wings.

They all stare at him.

Guts stiffens, and Casca’s eyes widen. She looks down again at her clenched fists.

“Yes,” she says, a little hoarsely. “We could not know it at the time, but I suppose that would have been possible.”[3]

They’re all silent for a few moments.

Casca takes a breath and goes on. “That king, that torturer: they tried to make Griffith less of a person. But we still…” she sighs. “We still loved him, the Falcons.” She looks up at Guts, “All of us in different ways.”

Guts bends forward and gently kisses her forehead. Casca closes her eyes. The elves make wisecracks while Serpico and Schierke awkwardly avert their gazes.

Casca turns back to them. “We would have helped Griffith,” she says. And now, each word she speaks is getting progressively colder. “Would have been there for him, helped him survive. But that wasn’t good enough for Griffith.”

“So, when the God Hand offered him a way to no longer be crippled—Griffith sacrificed us. All of us. Those who’d remained loyal to him even… We’d all come to help him, that day. After the severity of his injuries came out, he panicked and ran away. But we all ran after him to try to help him, even knowing he’d never be what he once was to us. And that’s why we were there to be snatched up by the God Hand and branded.”

“And when Griffith sacrificed us…There were hundreds of apostles. We…we were their feast. They slaughtered us like…like we were bugs. Like we were toys.” Her eyes are wide, and she’s starting to shake. “It was their idea of fun,” she rasps.

“And it was what Griffith…what he wanted…”

Casca’s shuddering violently, and Guts pulls her closer to him, so she’s leaning against his chest now. She doesn’t seem to notice.

“By the time…you…” her eyes fall on the others, and her shaking eases a little.

“You saw Griffith’s true form now, the one with wings. By the time he’d transformed into that, Guts and I were the only survivors.”

“Then…and then…”

Casca’s eyes fall on Schierke, and she starts.

“Schierke, you should…you’re too young—”

“I believe,” says Schierke, eyes filling with tears, “that between what I saw in your memories and what you have spoken of here, I already know what you are going to say.”

Casca stares at her, wide-eyed.

Then she jumps, as the two elves land in her lap. They look at her with eyes full of compassion, as Guts squeezes her shoulders again.

Casca gazes at Puck and Ivarela in surprise for a moment. Then she gives them a pained smile. Closes her eyes.

She remembers what Schierke had said earlier. Power in putting things into words.

“And then Griffith raped me,” Casca finally says.

The words sound strangely small.

She bows her head. Closes her eyes.

“That’s how Guts lost his arm and his eye. Trying to help me. But…”

No one speaks for a long time.

“I still,” Casca whispers, “I still don’t understand how he could have…”

Guts’ iron arm is tight around her shoulders. And she realizes that she can feel, where her right shoulder presses against his chest, his heartbeat.

She can feel the tiny moments of the elves, one touching each of her hands.

She can feel her body.

Casca opens her eyes. She sees Schierke’s face, tears dripping from the girl’s wide-open eyes. Sees Serpico, head and shoulders bowed as if in pain.

She turns her head, looks up. And Casca sees Guts’ single eye gazing at her, and sees a depth of sorrow and love and empathy and pain and understanding that makes her remember to breathe.

She shudders as her lungs fill, then closes her eyes, leaning forward towards him.

She feels his forehead bump against hers as he bows a little towards her in turn.

She takes another breath. Feels the warmth of his air.

And then she looks back at the others.

“I broke,” she says, simply.

Her eyes move to Schierke, who starts, then nods. “Your ego, you…understanding of your self, was shattered.” She hesitates, then adds, “to…to fend off the agony that memory and sanity would…”[4]

Quiet falls.

Casca nods.

“That makes sense,” she says faintly, eyes closing in pain. “But, if…if only I could have…”

“You’re here now,” interrupts Guts.

She looks up at him. And, finally, she feels tears begin to creep out of her eyes.

She swallows. “I…I don’t really remember clearly, what happened next.”

Guts nods, and holds her tightly as she curls into him, pressing her face to his heart.

Puck stays in her lap, perching on her limp right hand as her left reaches toward Guts. Ivarela flits off and returns with handkerchiefs for Casca, Schierke, herself and Puck.

Guts looks at the others over Casca’s head. “Cas had only been pregnant for a few days at that point,” he says. And all their eyes suddenly widen as the timeline starts to take its terrible shape. “That skull-headed knight is the one who rescued us from….that place. I woke up a few days later. Casca was...the way she was when you met her.”

“Night I woke up, she gave birth. But…like I said, kid was only a few days old. Her givin’ birth then, he shoulda…”

Guts takes a deep breath.

“But instead…” his eye closes, “when it…he came outta you, his eye opened an’…an’ he had that straight pupil, like the evil spirits, like…”

Rage crumples Guts’ face.

Then leaves. Replaced by sorrow.

“An’ he…he was distorted, part-finished, one eye an’ his arm, legs, face, he wasn’…” Guts shudders, eye closing. “He wasn’ human,” he breathes, voice full of pain and sorrow.

He inhales deeply, his eye cracking open. “Knight of the Skeleton said…said he was cursed, that evil’d infected him when Grif—” Guts shakes his head, then he squeezes his arms, what he has of them, tighter around Casca, whose eyes are wide as her head tilts against his chest.

“When I first saw him, I thought one of them had…gotten inside you,” Guts says, pain lacing his voice. “But you, you protected him when I almost… An’ then…he grew, fast, got bigger, more like a baby but still…The Knight told me he’d ‘bring us woe,’ but he, he knew you were his mother. He, he pulled himself up your chest, like he was goin’ to…”

Guts shakes his head.

“But then, he went here,” Guts touches Casca’s brand with his metal arm, “an’ he tried to drink your blood.”

Casca’s gaze turns up to him, horrified, like them all.

Guts doesn’t meet her eye. He swallows. “I…I panicked,” the last word flat. “I tore him off you, an’ I…I almost…”

He closes his eye again.

“But—you stopped me,” he says, and for a moment, his voice is full of gratitude.

Then pain deepens it again. “An’ that was when the sun rose, an’ when the light touched him…he was gone.”

“Jus’ like the other spirits.”

No one speaks for long moments as the house creaks in the nighttime wind.

Guts inhales deeply, then says, “I’d see him, sometimes. Never,” he glances at Puck, still sitting on Casca’s limp hand, “when you were around or awake, Puck. But I’d see him, when I was…when things were bad.”

“I…” he closes his eye in pain, “I thought he was tryin’ to hurt or taunt me, that he was cornerin’ me when I was…vulnerable.”

His right arm rises, his hand stroking Casca’s hair. “I was wrong,” he almost whispers, voice full of regret. “Thinkin’ about how he’s been when we’ve seen him at the full moons? I…he musta been tryin’ to help me, the whole time…”[5]

Casca, face still against Guts’ chest, her eyes closed, says, “He’d turn up for me, too. When I needed help and didn’t have anyone to… At the Tower,” her fingers twitch, and she moves her head to look at Puck, “remember when those spirit things swallowed me?”[6] The elf nods, looking nervous at the memory. “He protected me from being hurt by them, somehow.”[7]

Guts’ iron arm presses comfortingly on her shoulder.

“When I jumped off the top of the Tower,”[8] he says, “I saw…it musta been an apostle, but it looked like a huge egg, an’—an’ he was inside it. An’ when we saw Griffith later…it looked like a heap of rubble at his feet—but maybe some of it was eggshells.”

Schierke leans forward. “The same process,” she says, eyes distant as she throws her thoughts wide, “which incarnated Griffith’s body as it had been—it must have incorporated your son somehow, brought into material reality that which…Well, compared to the materialization of a fully grown man, an infant already with the raw material to make a person would be…and once his body and soul were caught up in the process, there must have been some…some overlap between one who was, and not, and one who was not, and was…”

Puck moans, clutching his head,[9] and Guts says, “Schierke.”

She starts, looking at him.

“How much of the kid do you think’s tied up in Griffith?”

She frowns, her fingers tapping her staff. “The great gurus of the physical plane examined him closely, yet detected not the faintest suggestion of one such as the God Hand, much less…” she shakes her head. “Their physical forms may have been…grown in the same ethereal process, but they are demonstrably not entirely interwoven. They most have a certain level of awareness when the one’s spiritual and physical form is present—yet all evidence points to,” she smiles, “the hypothesis that the two are separable enough for there to be a means by which they can be cleaved from one another.”

Guts smiles, all his teeth showing. “Good.”

Abruptly, Serpico says, “Griffith, he…he effectively killed your son, and now…” the young man swallows, “now, his corporeal form is also…”

There’s fire in Guts’ eye as he looks at Serpico. “Not for much longer.”

Guts feels Casca stir against him. She moves her hand to hold his, then sits up and turns to the others.

“And that,” she says formally, “is what we must now request your help to achieve.”

Her eyes widen as Schierke hits her with a full body hug, Ivarela and Puck leaping to clutch her neck and hug her as well as they can, too, all three crying and affirming their desire to do whatever they can to help.

Guts leaves his iron hand on Casca’s back, so she feels him there, and looks at Serpico.

The younger man’s eyes are wide, complex emotions filling them. But he meets Guts’ gaze, puts his right hand on his sword hilt, and gives a short, sharp nod.

[1] This refers to Casca’s Dreamscape episodes, from V39 E347-V40 E354

[2] The following pages recount events from V4-V14

[3] This is a pet thing of mine: Rickert was standing outside the Eclipse with a bag full of fairy dust. That stuff regrows skin and tendons, we see it later with Guts. If Griffith had taken that leap of faith, everyone—including him—would have had a chance.

[4] This is explained in V40 E354

[5] The boy’s first appearance in V1 E0A, he is there when Guts is unable to move and helpless.

The boy’s second appearance in V2 E0, he appears when Guts is in deep emotional turmoil. Wearing Vargas’s face is a bit odd—he seems to have been picking up on something inside Guts himself, reflecting it at him.

The boy’s third appearance in V16 E101, Guts had been poisoned. He was drinking blood and chewing cocoa leaves to try to stay conscious, and then he fell asleep. If not one had intervened, he might have died with the poison working through him. The boy brought the dead children to keep him awake.

The boy’s fourth appearance in V17 E128, he’s helping Guts get to Casca.

In between this and the next appearance, he often appears to Casca, consistently doing so to help her.

Fifth appearance starting in V28 E238, he saves Casca from the croc monsters and Guts from the armor.

Sixth appearance starting in V36 E317, he saves Guts from the armor and from the bowels of the Sea God.

Guts can’t know about the things between appearances 4-5, and appearance 2 is a bit weird, but looking at what the boy was willing to do in appearances 5-6, and the huge importance of his fourth appearance, it makes sense for Guts to project this desire to help backwards on the boy’s appearances as the demon child.

Oh and seventh appearance starting in V41 E363, the boy wanted to hang out with his parents and their friends. No comment.

[6] V19 E152-153

[7] V20 E155

[8] V21 E166

[9] V18 E142 reference

Chapter Text

After they leave, Guts closes the door and sits down next to Casca on the bed.

“You okay?”

She looks at him, opens her mouth—then gags, hands flying to her face.

She races for the chamber pot, and vomits until there’s nothing left, tears streaming down her face.

Guts runs his hand up and down her back until it’s over. Then he helps her out of her now-stained shirt and into her nightshirt. He goes to get her water, and then dampens a towel and gives it to her to cool her face.

Casca curls up on the bed and he sits next to her, half-prone, leaning on the headboard. When he sits down, she snuggles closer to his left side, her breathing finally starting to ease.

After a few moments, Guts asks, “You feelin’ better?”

Her eyes stay closed. “Yeah,” she says quietly.

Guts exhales deeply. “Cas, I…”

He’s quiet. Casca’s eyes open slightly, and she waits for him to speak.

“I,” he repeats, finally, “I never coulda done somethin’ like that.”

Her hand touches his iron fingers where they rest near her.

“I…” Guts closes his eye, “I never coulda even thought of…I spent so much time runnin’ from the past, but you…you only just got back, and you already…”

He shakes his head. “You got any idea how incredible you are?”

Casca smiles. “It’s because I have you, here. With me. And, when I first got back, I had Farnesse. And there’s Schierke, Puck, Isidro, Serpico…”

She sits up, and he moves his arm so she can curl against his chest. “Thank you,” she murmurs into his shirt.

Guts snorts, and she nudges him with her head. “I mean it,” she says.

Guts’ head tilts back, and he gazes at the ceiling. “Anythin’,” he says. “For you: anythin’.”

She smiles against him, and her left hand rests on his chest. “You talk a big game.”

“I mean it,” he replies. And Casca can hear in his voice…there’s a note there, whose truth she can sense maybe better even than him: that he’s trying, so hard, to mean it completely, but somewhere within him…

Casca looks over the edge of her own pain, her fears of her limitations, of how much she’s been altered by what’s been done to her.

“What if,” she whispers, “what if I can’t have any more children?”

She feels Guts breathe in sharply. “Cas, there’s no reason to think—”

“There is.”

Guts shifts his body down, and she feels his chin touch her head. “We’re on an island fulla mages. If that’s what you want an’ you’re right that…I’m sure one of them can fix you up.”

“What if they can’t?” she whispers. “I’ll…I’ll always be…”

“You already got a kid, and a pretty great one,” Guts interrupts fiercely. “For the rest…”

Casca feels Guts’ arm rise when the metal leaves her shoulders. He holds it up, staring at it in the flickering light, his expression…

He takes a deep breath, and she sees his jaw clench. “Most important thing is, you made it through alive,[1] survived an’ made it back,” he says. “Everythin’ else is…else.”

She feels tears fall down her cheeks when her eyes close. Then she sits up, sniffing hard.

“Give me that,” she says, and grabs his metal arm. She carefully undoes each buckle and strap, then removes the prosthetic and sets it on the bedside table. She reaches out and unwinds his bandages until she reveals what’s left of his arm.

Casca cradles the stump in her hands, thumbs gently running over the skin. Guts waits until she’s ready to speak.

“I’m sorry,” she says, quiet, with a small tremble in her voice. “I’m sorry I…you…” her hands squeeze a little, “you broke for me,” she whispers painfully, “but I…when I broke…I ran away from you, too. And I…everything we had, everything I wanted to give you, he…” her head bows. “I’m sorry.”

Guts takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“It is not,” he says, voice cracking, “your fault—”

She doesn’t look at him. “I know that,” she whispers. “But, I still…”

Guts reaches out and pulls her against him, and remembers what she’d said to him, when…

“I forgive you,” he hisses in her ear, like it hurts. “Always,” he adds, more softly.

Casca presses to him as close as she can get, and finally begins to sob.

He strokes her hair, and holds her close.

[1] V18 E142

Chapter Text

Some time later, Guts asks, “Cas, you awake?”

“Uh-huh,” she says.

He hesitates, his fingers stroking her hair. “I…I just want you to know that I…”

Anythin’

“Even after we get our boy back, I’ll—I’ll be here with you, as long as you want.”

Casca doesn’t move against him. “You’re not itching,” she mutters, “to go off and hunt down monsters, or ‘hone your skills’ picking bigger fights[1]?”

Guts snorts. “Ain’t wanted that for a while.”

“What if he survives?” she asks. “What if, after we get our son, he’s still out there somewhere. Would you…”

Her voice trails off.

Guts closes his eye, and desperately tries to mean what he says without reservation.

“Long as you want me, you need me,” his voice is determined, “I’ll be right here, with you.”

Casca’s quiet for a few moments. Then she says. “What if I want you to never leave?”

Guts smiles flippantly. “Then I guess I won’ ever—”

“Guts.”

He breaks off at the tone of her voice.

Then he frowns. “Hang on, you don’ mean—”

“What if I want to face it all with you, forever?” she asks, still not looking up from where her head is bent on his chest. “What if I want…to give you that. To…to give you me. Forever.”

He doesn’t speak. She must hear his heartbeat racing beneath her ear.

Finally, he says, “Cas, look at me.”

She straightens and turns to sit on her heels, eyes falling on his face. And, she looks at him with…

Guts turns his face left, looking at his stump. He waits a moment, then glances to make sure she’s looked at it, too. “Look at me, Cas,” he says quietly.

He slowly pulls his shirt over his head. Watches her eyes travel over his body, which is so very altered from how it’d been that first night, when they were so agonizingly young.

When he sees her gaze return to his face, he reaches up and touches the hollow of his right eye. The one carved out while…

“Cas,” he says quietly, and their gazes meet. “I’ll always be like this. Inside an’ out, you’ve seen…”

He closes his eye. “I can still feel that rage, that malice, that…” he shudders, then looks back at her, gaze full of sorrow.

“I…we can’t force back, what we lost,[2] not when…An’ you…”

He shakes his head. “Cas, I’m so grateful that I can help you, like you said, and that you… But what you’re talkin’ about, it’d be—”

She grabs his head with both hands, setting him off balance as she yanks him forward.

He’s doubled over with his face pressed just below her neck, and her arms are tight around him.

“It’d be a place,” she whispers in his right ear, “where I’d know your wounds, and you’d know mine.”

Guts starts to shake his head, then he freezes when she speaks again.

“This isn’t about forcing back what was. It’s about this,” he feels her lips press against his hair, “and what we can make it.”

He swallows hard.

“This,” her breath is warm on his skin, “isn’t lost.”

“Cas…” he shakes his head, “you…you shouldn’ have to live lookin’ every day, forever, at…don’ you want to be able to live without havin’ to remember—”

“I’ve done that,” she hisses, “and you saw what that made me.”

Guts’ eye is wide.

He feels her left hand begin to trace one of the scars on his back.

“I know,” she says quietly, “what you lived with remembering.” Her fingers move to another scar. “What you bled for,” another scar, “again and again.”

“What your choice was.”

She pulls back and lifts his face, her hands on his cheeks, and he looks up at her, deep vulnerability in the planes of his scarred face.

“You’re my choice, too,” she says.

And in her eyes, he sees a depth of certainty that takes his breath away

“With everything that means.”

She bends forward as if to kiss him, but he speaks first.

“I’ll always be broken.”

She strokes his face, cradled in her hands.

“Yet here you are,” she says, “with me.”

“Here I am, with you,” she smiles.

He gazes at her, and…something is shifting, opening, inside him…

“We can decide,” she says softly, “that much.”

“It’s enough for me.”

“What about you?”

His hand is shaking as his fingertips brush her face.

“Yeah,” he whispers.

She moves forward again, but he pulls away a little, his one eye flickering between hers.

“Yeah—if you’re sure?”

Casca smiles, her eyes full to the brim with…

She pushes him back against the pillows, then moves to kneel astride him. Their hands reach for one another, fingers intertwining.

She bends very, very close to him.

“Completely,” she whispers, as her lips brush his.

---------

In her dream, there is a three-legged black hound with a single eye.

It rests, curled on the ground, with its head in her lap.

She bends, lays her cheek against its warm back. Closes her eyes and waits.

Waits until she feels their hearts beating a single beat.

Until she no longer feels that she and the hound are separate at all.

Until she no longer needs to open her eyes to see the hound. Because she knows that she is the hound, and the hound is her.[3]

---------

In his dream, he lies in light.

He sees his sword nearby.

He doesn’t reach out for it.

[1] V10 E48

[2] V33 E287

[3] This is the Guts-hound, as seen in V39 E348-V40 E354.

That hound isn’t an astral projection of something: it’s Casca. It’s the embodiment of her will to live, which when we see it has been largely separated, locked behind multiple barriers from her idea of her self.

This scene is about her re-integrating that. This scene, and many of the scenes since Guts went into the armor, have been about Casca taking ownership of her own life, her relationships, her body, her past, her future, and now, her inner self.

When I was writing, I did not at any point plan this scene. Call me crazy, but it was like this was happening, really, to Casca, and I was just writing it down.

Chapter Text

Guts heads to see the dwarf smith again the next morning, while Casca goes to see Danaan.

3

“Knife only worked for a second,” Guts says as he walks into the forge, without no greeting or preamble. “Got anythin’ better?”

Hanaar sighs, then an anvil rings as he hammers at a blade.

“This’s not the sort of work I do,” he says, “making such things. Not my area, for long ages.”

Guts folds his arms. “You couldn’t’ve mentioned that earlier.”

The dwarf shrugs, hammer swinging. “You didn’t have options earlier.”

“An’ what’re my options now?”

Hanaar blends to inspect the metal. “Ever heard,” he says, “of the Bakiraka?[1]”

Guts grunts.

“Their smiths specialize in makin’ things I don’t. Things for killing,” Hanaar says, lifting the blade he’s been working on. Guts realizes it’s just a small knife, the kind that cuts rope and wood.

“You should be able to get what you need in the Bakiraka’s village,” the dwarf says.

Guts nods. “Thanks,” he says, turning to go.

Only to see Puck in the lead of dozens of elves, all making a beeline right for him.

---------

Casca makes her way quickly through the palace halls. It’s difficult, as she has to dodge the witches and the refugees from the outer forest. She weaves through sprites, fawns, centaurs, and things she doesn’t even know the name of before she finds Danaan.

The elf queen is in one of the private rooms, helping Thrainn out of bed. The battle had taken a great deal out of him, more than the others, and his full cheeks look far too hollow. But he stands firm when Danaan releases him, and gives gracious thanks to her before heading for the door with only a slight wobble to his step.

As he leaves, Danaan turns to Casca. “And how may I help you, my dear?”

Casca swallows, hand falling to her sword hilt.

“Guts and I would like to get married,” she says. “Would you be able to—”

She cuts off because Danaan’s face has entirely transformed from anything Casca’s seen before. The elf gives Casca a look full of sorrow, and her normally serene face shows pain and…

The elf queen closes her eyes.

Her features shift, settle. When she looks at Casca again, her calm has returned…though there remains a trace of…

“Casca,” Danaan says, “are you certain this is what you want?”

Casca stares at the elf. She’d never expected…

“Because, my dear,” says Danaan, and her eyes lose focus, “you must understand by now: the path he walks, those he seeks to challenge at its end—it is not a path destined for peace.”

Casca’s brow knits and she opens her mouth, but Danaan raises a hand to stop her.

“More than that,” Danaan continues, “while no one can doubt his love for you, there’s no guarantee that what he desires, at the depths of his soul, is what you desire.”[2] She gives Casca a look of sorrow and empathy. “When the choices are arrayed before him, and the darkness of his dread self shines most brightly—you cannot know what he will choose. Because he cannot.”

Casca hesitates. She inhales, her eyes closing…

And she remembers. Remembers a terrible visage, black metal and teeth and darkness.[3]

Remembers how it fell away.

Remembers the face of a man, coated in his own blood, a patch of his hair gone white. His pain and his struggle and its price. All writ on the face of a man she can see only on the far side of dreadful metal teeth that surround his head like the jaws of a beast.

And she remembers his eye. The one eye remaining to him.

Looking at her. Nothing but her.

Shining…

What met his eye that day, when I looked back at him, was…terrible.

But now—here I am.

Casca opens her eyes.

She smiles at Danaan. “I am certain.”

Danaan hesitates. “His future, and the choices he will have to make—”

“Are something I can help him with,” responds Casca. “Give him.” She feels a flush of warmth at the words.

Danaan looks at her almost pityingly.

“It may lead unto your death.”

Casca grips the hilt of her sword. “So it may.”

The two gaze at one another for long moments.

Finally, the elf queen sighs. “If this is your will,” she says, “then let the preparations begin.”

Casca blinks. “Prepara—?”

But Danaan is clapping her hands together sharply, and somehow the room is almost instantly packed with dozens of elves. Most hover in midair, eyes riveted on Danaan (except when darting, curiously, toward Casca), but Ivarela and Puck materialize out of the mass as she wathes. They each perch on one of Casca’s shoulders, with a proprietary air.

“A wedding,” says Danaan, “shall be held tomorrow.”

The air fills with shrieks of overexcited elves.

Casca tries to say, “We were thinking, uh, a little gathering this evening?” But not even Ivarela seems to hear her, and Puck has already vanished again.

“We shall, of course,” says Danaan, “celebrate with all due ceremony.”

The shrieks rise in pitch, and Casca starts to sweat.

---------

“I can’ believe you didn’ tell me first!” whines Puck from the air near Guts’ left shoulder.

Guts tries again to wrench free of the horde of elves prodding him forward, swatting his good hand at a gaggle of the pests. But they, again, just dart out of the way of his hand before swooping back to keep pushing him along.

“Exactly how is it any of your business?” growls Guts, walking forward since it’s easier than fighting. We’re headed for the cherry tree, anyway, the one where Cas was going to look for Danaan…When I suggested somethin’ quick, she just agreed, she didn’t seem like…did she send…?

“I’m your best friend!” shrieks Puck, interrupting his thoughts. “Your closest companion, your aide-de-camp, your brother-in-arms!”

“You an’ I ain’t talked in…hell, I don’ even remember when!”[4] snaps Guts, smacking a giggling elf away from his bag.

“Immaterial!” declares Puck. “A bond such as our don’ need replenishing! What we have overcome together is well be’yond such petty—”

“If I agree, will you shut up an’ take me to Casca?” Guts demands.

Puck flies in front of Guts’ face and turns upside down, grinning fit to burst.

“As if we Elfhelm folk’d let the groom see the bride so far ahead of the weddin’!”

Guts feels a bead of sweat on his forehead. “What d’you mean ‘so far ahead’?”

“It must be at least a day!” sniffs Puck, turning right side up and lifting his nose in a superior manner. “Otherwise—well, you two need alla the luck you can get!”

Guts stops dead, ignoring the angry elven shrieks, and grabs Puck out of the air.

“Don’ you ‘at least’ me,” he snarls as Puck struggles in his fist. “When are you lot plannin’ to let me see Casca?”

Puck stops beating his tiny fists, and instead uses them to prop his chin up, giving Guts such a cheeky grin that the man’s tempted to hurl the elf into the trees.

“Schierke needs at least another day ‘til she’s ready,” says Puck patronizingly. “Three days to be safe, I’d say—I ain’t takin’ chances with that!” he jabs his finger at the sky. “So, there’s plenty of time for we folk of Elfhelm to give you two a grand an’ storied ceremony!”

Guts briefly closes his eye in exasperation. Around him, tinny noises are ringing out as the elves poke and prod at his armor, trying to get him to move.

He sighs, and release Puck. “Fine,” he grumbles.

Puck poses grandly and opens his mouth to proclaim his victory—but blinks and has to turn around and chase Guts instead, as the man is now striding forward with an air of ‘let’s get this over with.’

Puck reaches Guts’ shoulder, mouth opening to complain, but Guts speaks first. “Didn’t think you’d be comin’ along.”

Puck stares at him in confusion.

He sits on Guts’ left shoulder and gazes up at his eye. “Why would I not?!?”

Guts shrugs, almost dislodging the elf. “Like I said, we ain’t talked in months. Anyway, you’re home now. This is a good place.”

Puck looks at Guts. A complex look grows on the elf’s face, one of thoughtfulness and a hint of regret.

He’s gotta point—we really haven’t talked since…I dunno when!

But then, there hasn’t been much needin’ sayin’. Guts’s been on a good path. One that brought him here. An’, if not for me…

Puck flutters down to Guts’ bag, opens it. And finds that, yes, there is (with minor adjustments) still a place for him in there.[5]

He gives Guts a knowing look. “You miss me?”

Guts snorts. “Did I miss the loud, troublemakin’, attention-attractin’, shrill little—”

“I knew it!” says Puck loudly over him. The elf kicks back and relaxes in his space in the pouch. “Well, that’s very flatterin’ n’ all, but I think you’ll be quite all right with Casca lookin’ out for you.” Puck glances up and sees a small smile grow on Guts’ face, then quickly fade.

“So,” Puck continues, “I’m goin’ along for that moonlight boy.”

Guts’ eye widens, and he turns his head so he can see into the bag on his right hip. Puck ignores the movement, putting his little hands behind his head in a show of casualness.

“I figure: that kid’s a magical bein’, like me, now, what with his appearin’ at the full moon, vanishin’ away, an’—”

“He’s a person,” growls Guts.

Puck puts his hand to his chest theatrically. “As if I weren’t a person?!”

Guts rolls his eye. “You know what I mean.”

“And this is why you need me along!” cries Puck. “You can’t say somethin’ like that to the kid! He’ll be confused enough as it is! He’ll need someone to show him the way!” Puck poses like a great hero (undermined by still lying down) and cries, “someone who knows the human world and the magical one! Godfather Puck!” he shouts the last words, carried away by his own fantasy.

Guts doesn’t talk for a few moments, his gaze faraway.

“You’re right,” he says finally. Then he hesitates, and adds, “Thanks, Puck.”

Puck blinks up at him in surprise. Then he settles back into the pouch, a self-satisfied look on his face.

“’Course I’m right,” the elf says. “You dimwit.”

Guts’ half smile is on the side of his face that Puck can’t see, as they reach the shadow of the Great Cherry Tree.

[1] V10 E56

[2] This mirrors what Skull Knight said to Guts in V28 E238

[3] V27 E229

[4] Puck talked to Guts about the Behelit in V39 E345 and V24 E202. In V33 E296, Guts talks at Puck. Guts and Puck last actually talked to EACH OTHER in V23 E187 in an episode which, fun fact, was published in 2001. So in the time of the series being written, that’s 20 years.

[5] This refers to how in V16 E118, Guts told Puck his pouch could be Puck’s ‘house’

Chapter Text

Casca is very, very close to murder.

“How is this one any different,” she grinds out, “from the last twenty?”

The elves holding the dress all look shocked and make horrified gestures. One rises up and begins darting around and shouting shrilly, identifying the various features (using words Casca strongly suspects the elf made up on the spot) that make this dress completely unique.

Schierke sniffs from her place beside Casca, sitting on the luxurious couch. “That’s been transfigured from the last dress.”

The elves shriek in indignation, but now Ivarela is fluttering forward to defend her mistress, and the lot descend into tinny shouting.

Casca gives Schierke a grateful look as she leans back on the couch.

The girl gives her a shy smile in return, her eyes almost immediately darting away.

Still? Casca sighs. “I won’t bite, you know,” she says, and it comes out a bit more snappish than intended. But Schierke has been here since dinner, and every time Casca makes eye contact, the young witch gets awkward.

Schierke’s face shows her surprise at Casca’s tone, and then she blushes, seeming to understand instantly.

“I…apologize, Casca,” she says. “I…am accustomed to Farnesse being here whenever I am in your company.”

Both women pause for a moment, feeling their grief.

Then Schierke adds, a bit shyly, “And…to you having an altogether different manner.”

Casca snorts, face darkening. “What, of a sniveling coward?”

Schierke turns to look at her, clearly baffled. “No, not at all—in fact, sometimes that may have helped!”

Casca blinks at the girl, confused.

“You were,” explains Schierke, “quite extraordinarily forceful. Rather like…I apologize, but akin to a willful child. Uncaring and unaware of anything beyond…well, without Farnesse, I despaired in less than a day[1] of regulating your behavior.”

Casca gives a slightly forced laugh. “I sound like a nightmare.”

Schierke pauses thoughtfully, then says, “You could certainly be deeply frustrating. However, when Farnesse was present,” she smiles, her eyes growing slightly faraway, “you were far more cooperative. Farnesse…”

Sadness clouds Schierke’s face. “I believe Farnesse felt that caring for you was a small thing, but her effect on you was sometimes the difference between our success in overcoming obstacles, and our total defeat.”

Casca’s eyebrows rise. “That seems a bit extreme.”

Schierke shoots her an amused smile. “You could, on occasion, be a nightmare.”

Casca smiles back, but it’s clearly forced.

“I…” she shakes her head, smile vanishing. “Being so helpless, all the time, that’s not what I…” Casca swallows hard.

Schierke looks at her with a mixture of sorrow, regret, and kindness.

A little awkwardly, she says, “I think that it meant a great deal, to Farnesse, to be so needed by you—to be able to protect you.”

Casca looks at her in surprise, and her face becomes skeptical. “You said that she—”

Schierke shakes her head. “Farnesse wanted to be capable of…everything, I suppose, but that does not mean… Her idea that caring for you lacked meaning was in truth, I believe, the voice of Farnesse’s own inner fears and insecurities. And while that anxiety plagued her…I think, more important than that, was… I believe that you, Casca, were most likely the only person Farnesse believed loved her, without complication.”

Casca stares at her. “Farnesse had a family, right? And Serpico—”

“Was complicated,” finishes Schierke. “As was Farnesse’s relationship with her family. But you…the degree you loved her was clear to all, and utterly unconditional. And as for your effect on her…” Schierke sighs in bittersweet remembrance. “You made her more alive than even she was when first I met her.”[2]

Schierke bows her head. “Farnesse would have wanted, very much, to be here for you at this time.”

Casca’s eyes close, releasing tears. “I wish…” she whispers.

And then doesn’t try to continue.

Schierke sniffs, tears filling her eyes, too.

Then Ivarela flies back to them. “What kinda craziness is this?” the elf shouts. Then she turns and whizzes close to Casca, elven face full of fake sympathy. “Are you getting cold feet?” she asks, sick-sweet. “You know—”

“Ivarela,” says Casca firmly, wiping her face clean and fixing the elf with a stern look.

Ivarela sniffs, then sighs. “Oh all right. Anyway, I’ve negotiated a very lovely gown that I’m sure you’ll—”

“No,” says Casca forcefully, narrowing her eyes and getting to her feet.

“Nothing is final until I see it, you lot,” she says, raising her voice and looking at the other elves crowding in the room.

Schierke and Ivarela are momentarily frozen in shock at the tone of command in the once-wordless woman’s voice. Then elf and witch find themselves scurrying to catch up as Casca strides after the retreating elves.

---------

“No,” Guts says flatly, “more.”

The satyr makes a rude gesture with the hand not holding an ale horn towards Guts, then turns back to the feasting crowd.

“C’mon, Guts!” says Puck wheedlingly, “Just one more? It’s your last nighta freedom, you should—”

Puck has a sudden vivid memory of Guts ‘enjoying himself’ back when he last had freedom, and the elf’s face blanches.

“—you should celebrate how much you’ve grown as a person!” he squeaks. Guts doesn’t bother to respond, just rolling his eye.

But after a moment, he sighs and snatches Puck out of the air, pulling the elf near his face. Then his fist relaxes and flattens, leaving a startled Puck standing in his palm.

“All right, one more—if you do me a favor.”

---------

Casca sighs. “This is the last one,” she says, then swigs down the goblet.

The sprites and elves around her shriek in protest, and Danaan affects sorrow. But Casca shakes her head as she puts her goblet aside. “The last thing I need,” she growls, “is to be stuck trying to get myself in that damn dress while I’m sick to my stomach.”

The elves boo, and the witches clustered around Schierke start calling out offers of hangover remedies, and it all descends again into chaos.

“This dress,” says a voice in Casca’s ear, “what’s it look like?”

She sits bolt upright and spins around—then sighs. It’s just Puck, his elbows propped on the back of the couch out of sight of the others, eyes wide with curiosity.

Casca grimaces, remembering the agonizing process of finding an answer to his question. “Complicated,” she says shortly.

Puck smiles brightly. “Bet it looks beau-ti-ful!”

Casca sighs, leaning more towards him. “I hope so, but I…I’m not really that comfortable wearing dresses…”[3]

Puck half falls over laughing. “That’s what he said!”

Casca’s eyebrows rise. “Huh?”

Puck beams. “Guts said he’d only seen you in a dress twice, an’ once your brain exploded, so he wanted me to tell you not to worry ‘cause he thinks you’re beautiful all the time, an’ anyway there’s no way your dress’ll look weirder than what we’re makin’ him wear!” [4] The elf pants as he finishes the message.

Casca stares at him for a long moment—then smiles warmly.

Puck looks hopeful. “Feel better?”

Her eyes crinkle. “Yeah. Tell Guts it’s ‘cause of what he said, okay?”

Puck gets a soft look on his face. Then he darts up, plants a kiss on Casca’s forehead, and whizzes away in a flash.

---------

“Only one more,” growls Guts. “That was what we agreed.”

“Casca said you should—”

“No she didn’t.”

Puck sulks. “So mean,” he mutters.

Guts snorts. “Stop tryin’ to poison me an’ I’ll be nice.”

Puck shoots into the air in outrage. “As if the finest Elfhelm ale were—” Then he freezes. “Wait, did you just say you’d be nice?”

Guts’ eye rolls. “I meant, ‘nicer.’”

“Well that’s a low bar!”

“Oh hush up.”

“You call that ‘nice’?”

“It’s as nice as you deserved after all that.”

“You, you—I’m gonna go tell Casca she can do better!”

“You think she doesn’ know that already?”

“I guess she’s better at bendin’ you to her will, huh???”

“Oh, go chase a butterfly.”

[1] V29 E252

[2] This refers mainly to developments in V25 E208 and V26 E217-218

[3] V8 E30

[4] This builds on the conversation between Guts and Casca in V8 E30 and Casca’s comment in V40 E355

Chapter Text

The setting is, of course, outrageously beautiful.

The hall of Elfhelm’s tree palace[1] is packed with hundred, maybe thousands of creatures. The air buzzes with winged folk darting to and from perches, fluttering in between gaps in the tree’s branches, and racing around to hang up last minute decorations.

The floor of the hall is just as crowded, of course. Smaller folk stand in tight clumps and pile onto larger creatures, so that sprites and brownies sit on the backs of unicorns or perch on the heads of disgruntled dwarves. Some dangle from the antlers of deer-beasts or clamber up the sides of the room to get a better view, but most just stand wherever they can.

Serpico is sitting at the base of the steps to the throne, absentmindedly waving his feather-sword to make wind spirits dance.

“Oi,” says a deep voice behind him.

He turns to the left, and finds that Guts has managed to sneak in without being spotted.

Serpico has never seen a man look less comfortable. Guts is wearing green, shirt and pants, and—there’s a layer of cherry-blossom pink at his lapel! A short sword hangs at his hip, but it’s clearly decorative, barely a twig compared to the kind of blade Guts wields.

Serpico just gawks.

Guts shrugs. “Mighta fallen asleep this mornin’ when they were dressin’ me.”

Serpico blinks. “That would seem to be the only reasonable explanation.”

Guts sighs. “Didn’ even have a chance to grab a real sword. Anyway, uh…think you could…?” He raises his right arm a bit to gesture toward his lapel. Serpico realizes that the seams keep the other man from lifting his arm high enough to touch it.

“Oh,” he says. “Yes, the ensemble would indeed be less offensive without…” He steps closer to Guts and works on loosening the knotted fabric.

After a moment, Serpico quietly asks, “Guts. Are you certain…that you would do this to her?”

Guts looks away, but doesn’t speak.

“Your fate,” continues Serpico, “after all, must lead back to…”

Guts’ eye closes for a moment.

Then he says, “This’s her choice.”

His eye cracks open, his gaze distant. “If I didn’t…didn’ respect that, I’d be no better ‘n…”

Serpico’s expression is flat.

“An’ this way,” continues Guts, “I’ll be there for her, if…”

He shakes his head. “No good’s ever come of leavin’ her behind.” He smiles faintly. “Long as she’s in reach of my sword, I’ll find a way to protect her.[2]”

His fist clenches. “I’m stronger, now,” he says, voice harsh. “I will.”

Serpico’s eyes are hooded. But he nods, stepping back as he removes the pink fabric from around Guts’ neck.

Shouts begin at the entrance to the hall.

Danaan has arrived and is walking among her subjects. She smiles, speaks to them—but never slows her forward pace. She walks past Guts and Serpico to climb the steps, stopping after two. Then she plucks some elves from the air—one is Puck—and whispers something to them. All fly away, Puck beaming delightedly.

The reason for his merriment soon becomes clear. While the other elves clear the way, Puck and Ivarela reappear on either side of Schierke, who is walking behind the bride and carrying her train.

Casca walks into the room to a general hush. Her face colors, but she doesn’t slow down.

She’s wearing the dress she chose. Her skirt is alternating diagonal stripes of diaphanous, near-translucent white and cherry blossom-pink silk. There are cherry blossoms in her hands, and tucked behind her ears, decorating her hair.

But over her chest and shoulders, the dress is not only fabric. Bronze armor plates, molded to her body, have been sewn into the delicate cloth.

And at her left hip, there hangs an exquisite silver sabre.

Guts can only stare at her, and feel his heart beat…his throat grows tight as she looks up, finds him, catches his eye…smiles at him…

And then…

Streaks of black fill his vision.

Guts blinks, but that only seems to make the blackness stretch, grow, and then—

It’s all darkness. All gone black.

He can’t see her anymore.[3]

Guts keeps his eye wide, focuses on keeping his breathing steady, and listens.

He hears the rustle of her dress, very close now. He turns his head toward the sound and extends both his hands, flesh and metal.

He feels her take them, and resists the urge to sag with relief as she squeezes his fingers. Then he focuses on moving with her, so that they’re in place at the foot of the stairs to Danaan’s throne, standing facing each other.

Danaan speaks, but Guts doesn’t really listen. He’s focusing on Casca, on gauging where her face will be and directing his unseeing eye toward her. On smiling like…like he wishes he could smile right now.

He feels the ceremonial rope brush his wrist, and shakes his arm gently so it falls right on his skin.[4]

Danaan says some words about all time, about love and binding and choice, and he still can’t…

Then he feels Casca’s grip shift. She’s pulling him forward.

He tilts his head down, until he can feel her breath against his mouth.

And she hisses fiercely, “What’s wrong?”

He hesitates…But if I don’t tell her, she might think it’s to do with…

“I can’t see.”

He hears a sharp intake of breath.

Then he feels her lips brush his.

He moves to kiss her deeper, but before he can she’s gone.

Then, he feels her judge his his right shoulder. He moves, feels her move with him. As he turns toward the crowd, he feels her left arm curling around his right. Her elbow is below his, her arm wraps up and she firmly clasps his fingers, binding them together.

He does his best to relax and let her steer him forward. He keeps smiling, awkwardly nodding and muttering thanks—gripping Casca’s hand with all the strength he dares.

[1] This is the throne room seen in V39 E346. It makes me sob to imagine how crazy Miura would have made the art for an event like this. I didn’t even try to do such a thing justice.

[2] V24 E203

[3] I’m a monster, I ruined the wedding.

Guts has lost his sight completely twice so far. The first time was in V33 E287 some time (unclear) after the fight with Ganishka, the second time it was in V37 E328, immediately after the Sea God fight. So time frame is fuzzy.

I justify this extended loss of sight by pointing out that Guts’ fucked-up-ness in the fight in the village was on par with his fucked-up-ness after the first fight at the spirit tree, and similar to the Sea God. So it’s just one thing on top of another physically, and there goes the sight. Fundamentally plausible, extended from what was in the manga.

But yes, I am a monster. Being a writer means torturing characters, it really does…

[4] The idea here is that they did a handfasting ceremony kind of thing, which is “pagan,” by which I mean modern people who practice a faith called Paganism. Elves and witches, after all. A ceremonial rope is a key part of that kind of ceremony.

Chapter Text

By the time they reach the part of the palace where the wedding feast is set, Guts is starting to see lights and shapes. Soon he’s able to eat and drink without Casca’s surreptitious help.

He finds it hard to follow what’s happening, though, even with his sight back. It’s ridiculously loud in the room, with hundreds of humans and fae-folk moving around everywhere. Serpico and Schierke leave after a while, and he’s got Casca sitting to his right where he can’t see her. He can’t help feeling…

At a certain point, people start shouting about a “chamber.” Next thing Guts knows, a pair of massive centaurs are yanking him from his chair and turning him around to follow Casca, who’s ahead of them…and almost flying, there’s so many elves herding her forward.

Puck perches on Guts’ shoulder, grinning encouragingly. “Now, about the wedding night—”

Guts swats at him and Puck shrieks, but doesn’t dodge fast enough. The elf tumbles away shouting recriminations.

Then Guts is deposited in a chamber lit by candles and strewm with masses of cherry blossom petals. In the center is the biggest bed he’s ever seen.

Everyone withdraws, shouting pointed comments. The doors snap closed, and it’s just him and Casca.

She yanks up her skirts and spins, stepping towards him, and she’s so worried…

She should…at a moment like this, she should feel…

She reaches for his face. “How long—”

“It’s fine,” Guts mutters, shaking his head. “It just…it’s happened once or twice before, it doesn’ last that long.”

“Guts, you shouldn’t—”

He suddenly turns away from her, strides to the nearest tree-bark wall, and slams his fists into it.

Casca doesn’t speak.

Guts is panting, leaning forward.

He can’t look at her.

“I—I’m sorry,” he gasps out. “I wrecked it.” He grimaces. “You…it shoulda been…”

His forehead touches the wall.

“Shit,” he mutters, “I’m sorry.”

Then he feels Casca’s body press against his back.

Stitching tears in her dress as she reaches up and wraps her arms around him.[1]

She doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t need to. She’s already said it. It’s still true.

Guts slowly lowers his right arm to wrap his hand over hers.

Finally, he manages to choke out, “Your dress looks beautiful.”

He feels her smile against his back. “Thank you.”

“Cas…” Guts hesitates, then goes on. “If you ever…ever wanna get outta this, I’ll—”

She gently squeezes his body with her arms, and he stops talking.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she murmurs. “Weren’t you paying attention earlier?”

Guts slowly turns around so he can see her, his fears written on his face…

And she smiles up at him.

She reaches out, and touches the corner of his good eye with her fingertips. “Can you see me now?”

He nods, swallowing hard.

“Good,” she says, and pulls his face down to kiss him deeply.

He exhales through his nose, reaching toward her.

His left arm makes a metallic sound as it knocks against the armor plate on her side.

Casca breaks away. “I…” she blushes a little, “I need some help getting this dress off. They sewed me into it!”

Guts snorts, and she turns so he can see the seams.

“I might be able to unstitch it one-handed,” he says a bit doubtfully.

Casca flinches. “I…” She swallows. “Don’t take my clothes off, all right?”

Guts’ jaw tightens at the note of fear in her voice.[2]

He bends slowly forward, and kisses the armor at her right shoulder. “Sure.”

She sniffs, sounding teary. “Sorr—”

Guts shifts his head so he can catch her eye.

She stops what she was saying at his expression. Then she smiles, tears growing in her eyes.

Slowly she turns, lifting her hands to cup his face. Gazing at him.

“You’re…mine,” she whispers, astonishment and feeling filling her voice.

Guts closes his eye, moves his face to kiss her palm.

“I’m yours,” he says, and gives her a look full of passion and vulnerability.

Casca smiles at him gently. “I’m yours, too,” she says softly, leaning closer.

And she sees…a trace of fear…then hope, wonder, and…and then deep love, shining from his single eye.

Guts nods, his throat tightening as he says the words, “You’re…mine.”

The second word is almost too firmly spoken, like he’s trying very hard to…

Casca reaches up higher, her fingertips touching the corners of both his eyes.

“So this,” she says, “is ours.”

Tears leak from the corners of her own eyes.

Guts bends forward until their foreheads meet.

He reaches out his slightly shaking hand, and touches the tear track on Casca’s cheek.

She blinks, and he feels a drop of saltwater run onto his skin.

“I…” he starts.

Then stops.

The teardrop moves down his hand until it disappears, leaving…

He closes his eye.

Gives a sharp, tight nod.

Then he kisses her.

Very gently. Holding his breath.

[1] V9 E47

[2] I actually did make sure this was all through the story: Casca takes her own clothes off whenever she’s “onscreen.” Closest thing to an exception is when Guts pulls her shirt down their first morning together again—which he does right before she has a panic attack.

The idea here is that the clothing removal is a defined trigger. Even this is actually progress for Casca, because it’s not amorphous and it’s a bit more predictable, as opposed to how her flashbacks were triggered during Conviction and once during MF (her flashbacks actually stop after the Winter’s Journey: she doesn’t get triggered again). The idea behind this trigger is that the heart of the nightmare for Casca began when her clothes were torn off her, so she needs total control over that.

Chapter Text

Casca wakes to dim illumination. The sun is starting to shine, leaking between the curtains that cover the high windows on the far side of the room. When she opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is that light on Guts’ scarred face.

She’s curled against his right shoulder, just like that first morning she woke up beside him.

When she lifts her head to see him better, he catches her movement and turns to look at her with his good eye.

He smiles. She smiles back…but she notices…there’s a tightness to his face, like…

“You didn’t sleep,” she says softly.

Guts shrugs with his left shoulder. “Nah. Bed’s too soft.”

She still looks worried, and his smile become reassuring. “I can go days without sleep, one night is nothin’.”

Casca rolls her eyes and props her chin on his chest so she can see him better. “That doesn’t explain why you didn’t sleep last night.”

“I told ya, the bed—”

“Guts.”

He hesitates, then sighs. “I can’t sleep without a sword nearby.”[1] He nods toward their discarded ceremonial swords. “That frippery ain’t good enough.”

Casca raises her eyebrows. “What, you don’t feel safe in the palace of Elfhelm?”

His shoulders move almost imperceptibly. Casca nudges him, making his body shift gently. He doesn’t resist her, and he doesn’t look at her.

“C’mon,” she says, bending her head, briefly kissing his chest, then edging up a little closer to his face. “What, you weren’t tired out enough?” she asks, eyebrow raised, her leg pressed against his beneath the blanket that’s draped over their waists.

Guts snorts, then sighs. “I haven’ been able to sleep without a sword nearby since I was…musta been five, maybe six years old.”

His arm leaves her back, and he reaches up and brushes his fingers against the scar on the bridge of his nose.

“Since I…since I got this,” he says, his gaze faraway.

Casca’s left arm moves up, her fingertips running over his arm, down his hand, until she’s touching the scar too.

“How did you get this one, anyway?”

“…Gambino,” he answers.

Her eyes widen. “Your..” her hand draws back. “Did he…abuse—”

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” says Guts. “Happened when he was teachin’ me the sword.”

“So it was an accident?”

Guts’ head tilts back against the pillows, his face becoming…

“No,” he says. “No, Gambino was teachin’ me to fight usin’ real blades, cuttin’ me. An’ when I managed to cut ‘im back, he got angry, an’ he…”

Guts frowns. Then he shrugs, leaning back a little. “Anyway, he did feel bad, about doin’ it.” Gut’s gaze softens. “Gave me some salve, so I could treat the wound.”[2]

Casca still doesn’t speak, watching Guts.

“That was…the only time he…”

Casca’s eyes close, a single tear falling.

Guts blinks, then moves his hand behind his head with false casualness. “So, I feel safer sleepin’ with—” he says, forced carelessness in his voice, and he starts to roll over a bit, away from Casca.

And then her face is suddenly above his.

Her eyes are shining.

Her right hand cradles his cheek as she leans forward….

She presses her lips, very gently, to the scar.

Guts’ eye is wide for a moment. Then, he closes it, exhaling deeply.

When he opens his eye as she leans back, she’s looking at him. Her eyes are full of…

He runs the backs of his fingers over her cheek. Then he cups her face, and kisses her.

As they break apart, Guts shifts, propping himself up on the pillows to sit up a little. Casca settles her head just below his shoulder and slings her right leg over his, touching her toes to his left shin.

“Guts,” she says quietly as his arm returns to her shoulders, her fingers tracing back and forth over a scar somewhere on his chest. “Guts, after we…I want to come back here, later.”

Guts doesn’t respond.

Casca hesitates, then says, “I think this would make a good place to raise our son.”

Guts’ gaze is distant, but a slight smile grows on his face. “Yeah, it would, wouldn’ it?”

Casca looks up at him, then back down.

“Guts…It’s important—” she closes her eyes.

Then she opens them and just says, “Come back with me.”

Guts looks down at her in disbelief, then sits up straight, bringing her up too. “Cas,” he says, a bit irritated, as she shifts around to face him, “I really dunno how I can be clearer about not leavin’—”

“That’s not what I mean.”

He looks at her, confused. Her eyes are closed, her head bowed. But after a moment, she reaches out and puts her left hand over the big scar Slan gave him, right in the middle of his chest.

“I can’t,” Casca chokes out, “lose you.” She shakes her head, eyes still closed, tears welling at their corners. “Not ever again, okay?”

Guts stares at her.

“I know that you…your fight, your sword, it’s…” she opens her eyes, gives him a teary smile, “it’s gotten you here. Gotten us here.”

Her gaze moves to his chest. Her fingers trace the big scar, then another scar, then another.

“But it’s also,” she says quietly, “gotten you all these.”

“Cas—”

“A body,” her voice cracks, “only has room for so many of these, before…”

“Cas,” he says loudly, lightly grasping her wrist to stop her from moving to another scar.

She meets his gaze, and his eye is serious. “I’ll do what I have to for us to get through,” he says firmly. “Like I always do—an’ I always make it.” He smiles reassuringly. “You don’ have to worry, Cas, I always—”

Her right hand cups his cheek, making him pause.

Then her hand falls to the dead skin at the end of his left arm.

Guts becomes very still.

“It’s not that simple,” Casca whispers, her voice full of pain.[3]

He closes his single eye.

She touches his cheek. As his hand leaves her wrist and falls to his lap, she covers it with her own. Squeezes gently.

“And it’s not just you and me,” she says.

His eye opens.

She’s giving him a broken smile.

“Our son,” she takes a deep breath, “you’re…you’re the only one who can teach him…he needs to learn…”

Both of her hands reach up to cup Guts’ face. “What it means to be a man.”

Her gaze is fierce. Certain.

Guts’ eye is wide.

Casca sits up on her knees. Presses her forehead to his.

“To be a good man,” she says quietly.

Guts’ breath catches, and he remembers…

Griffith’s whiteness consuming the boy on the island.

His son…

His son in that egg…

Before the egg…

His demon son, single eye wide, crawling brokenly towards Guts as he screamed at the deformed infant like he was a monster…

“You need to be here to show him,” Casca’s saying. “Show him how…”

How… Guts remembers…

Stairs, a fountain, a man high above him speaking of dreams.

A man kneeling in the snow…

The cold gaze that was the last sight of his right eye…

“Because,”

A sword slashing past both of his eyes, through his face….

The cruel, frightened, awful eyes of Gambino…

And his terrible wide eyes, standing above Guts, a sword in his throat…

“Because you are his father.”

The wide eyes of a boy, peering at him around Casca’s old pilgrim’s robe…

The wide left eye of a misshapen infant, crawling up to nurse from his mother’s blood.

“Guts.”

His left eye meets hers.

She’s staring at him.

Guts reaches out and pulls her close to him, wraps his arms around her as best he can.

“Right,” he whispers, with all the conviction he can muster.[4]

[1] This builds on V3 E0I, V4 E0N, and V17 E130

[2] Guts is referring to events from the episode V3 E0I. I considered that he might be too young to remember these things distinctly, but he does flash back to a specific moment at this time during the Golden Age, so I kept it. But I didn’t bring in the true origin of when Guts developed this need to sleep with a sword: when he overheard the people outside talking about killing him. I figure that the kid was delirious, so having a distinct memory of that as an adult wouldn’t track. 

[3] This scene is actually inverting a bunch of stuff from V10 E48 “Sparks from a Sword.” Guts asks Casca to come with him in that scene, Casca asks Guts to come back with her in this scene. Guts tells Casca about his idea of the future in that scene, Casca tells Guts the same here. And that scene ends with Casca feeling uncertain about the future, and this scene ends with Guts feeling the same.

[4] Memories come from: V41 E364, V1 E0A, E12 V6, V8 E36, V13 E87, V01 E0C,  V4 E0J, V28 E238, V14 E92.

The idea here is a step beyond Guts and the kid having a merely tricky relationship before now. When the boy was first born, Guts tried to give him a chance despite the fact that he was horrifically disfigured and had an evil-spirit-eye. But then the kid tried to drink Casca’s blood. That’s a pretty reasonable sign that the kid is exactly what Skull Knight said, exactly what Guts feared, and exactly what Guts’ father called him: a cursed child, a monster.

The kid not being that is something that Guts has been coming to terms with. But what Casca’s saying here is invoking a cycle of monstrous fathers which Guts is himself a part of. His own father called him a cursed child. Skull Knight called his son a cursed child when he was born. And Griffith actually fits into that cycle, too: Guts himself in V8 E33 draws a parallel between how he wanted Gambino to see him and how he wanted Griffith to see him. The relationships with Gambino and Griffith, of course, both went very badly. Guts tried and failed to be what he thought they wanted him to be, and the people he loved suffered for it.

On a fundamental level, the level of a child (which is both the least reasonable way to believe and also the strongest kind of belief) Guts believes that this is what fathers do, because this is what sons do. What sons are.

What Casca is asking Guts to do, without really knowing it, is to break that cycle. And she’s expressing uncomplicated trust that he is capable of doing it. Almost to the point of taking it for granted that he can.

Now, Guts is facing the question of whether he believes breaking that cycle of cruel fathers, cursed children, and suffering loved ones is possible. He’s somewhat uncertain about it from the boy’s end (drank mom’s blood, remember), and from his own.

Chapter Text

A little while later, a tapping starts at the window.

It stops after a few moments.

Then…

Tap ta ta tap ta—

A weird sound comes from behind the curtains. Something passes through the light that shines through the crack in the fabric.

“Be right back,” mutters Guts, kissing Casca’s hair and sliding off the bed.

A weird, shrill noise is rising outside as Guts yanks back the curtain…

To reveal at least thirty elves hovering there, noses pressed to the glass.

They all shriek when he appears, apparently thrilled beyond belief at the sight of the naked human man. Guts steps neatly so he’s blocking their view of Casca.

“What—”

“Hi-ya!”

One elf is furiously attacking and flailing at the others, a small, brown chestnut burr at the end of the stick he’s swinging. He’s not having much effect, but it’s not for lack of effort. As Guts watches, he chases one elf away from the window, turns, and targets another elf. Behind him, the elf from before returns to the window.

The fighting elf is darting about, shrieking a war cry, he’s is right in front of Guts’ exasperated face—and he freezes in midair.

He turns his head to look at Guts.

Then beams. “Have no fear!” he cries. “I shall protect the sanctity of your marriage bed—”

“You Puck, or one of his brothers?”

The elf’s mouth falls wide open.

Then he shrieks in fury and hurtles forward towards Guts—

And flies right into the glass.

“Irredeemable scoundrel!” Puck cries, clutching his nose as the other elves snicker. “After all I’ve done for you, why, you—”

“Good morning, Puck,” says Casca firmly, and Guts feels her warmth press against his back. She moves a blanket up in front of him and he takes it, wrapping himself and her in the same fabric.

“We were rather busy, you know…” Casca adds drily, still addressing Puck.

The elf sighs theatrically. “I’m sorry, my lady liege,” he says. Guts snorts and Casca’s eyebrows rise, but the elf is starting to look like a wilting flower stem. “I’m afraid,” Puck continues, “I was unable to restrain these rude, miscreant, prurient—”

“You led us here!” accuses one.

Puck whirls around furiously. “Why you lying--!”

“Puck, drive ‘em off or get your own ride off the island,” says Guts.

Puck turns towards him, face brimming with indignation, but Guts is already letting the curtains close.

“You ungrateful, stupid, ludicrous—” Puck howls. But then, they hear shouts of protest and the shadows of elves tumbling through the air, suggesting that Puck has gone to the attack with renewed vigor.

Casca’s brow knits a little. “Y’know, I’m not sure if—”

“He’ll be fine,” says Guts, stepping out of the blanket and taking her hand, leading her towards the bed. “We’ve survived worse.”

Casca looks sad for a moment, then she sighs as she follows his lead, holding the blanket up around just her now. “We should go out soon anyway—maybe—”

Guts halts, standing by the edge of the bed, still holding her hand.

“Jus’…” he whispers. He swallows, and turns his head slightly towards her. “Jus’ a bit longer.”

Casca looks up at him. Warmth fills her face.

She steps forward and draws his hand toward her. Clasps it in both of hers and brushes her lips to his knuckles.

“Of course,” she whispers.

There’s a hint of nervousness from their previous conversation…but more, far more than that…

Guts pulls his arm forward and brings her to him. Presses his lips to hers.

As they kiss, Casca cradles his face in her palms. His hand gently cups the back of her head.

As he bends to deepen the kiss, Casca lifts her arms higher and steps forward so their bodies touch, her blanket finally falling to the floor.

Chapter Text

The woods of Elfhelm burst with activity. It’s centered around a single clearing, in which witches, elves, sprites, and more are crowded, all of them buzzing and chatting and speculating.

In among a gaggle of mages is Schierke, reassuring doubters that she’ll soon return and all will be well.

Puck is hovering at the center of a cluster of elves, loftily disregarding the concerns of his extended family.

Danaan is embracing Casca, the two standing a few paces from Guts. He’s watching the whole scene with faint amusement.

Serpico leans alone against a tree at the clearing’s edge, swathed in his wind spirit tunic.

He can feel the little spirits dancing around him, catching the excitement of the departure. Serpico bows his head and murmurs words of thanks to them for accompanying him.

He gazes at the feather sword in his hand, turning it over. Over. Over.

When he sees Schierke emerge from the mages, he silently sheathes the sword and makes his way toward her.

There is no indentation left in the grass where he stood.[1]

---------

The four humans and two elves gather around Schierke, whose gaze focuses on her staff. She murmurs, chants, then falls silent for long moments. Until…

All of them—Guts a heartbeat later than the others—begin to rise. Tiny wind spirits, first just a few, then a mighty flock, weave to and fro around them.

Schierke is in trance, and her eyes open filled with light. “I am the Wind-That-Flutters-the-Leaves-of-the-Great-Cherry-Blossom-Tree,” comes from the witch’s mouth, even as her body bows backwards on a thick layer of wind spirits. “I hereby grant the supplication of the small one to lift herself and her friends unto their destination among my sky-spirit brethren.”

They rise into the air, turning, rolling on spirits, and below them Skellig is becoming smaller, smaller…

The winds deposit them on a wide, half transparent branch of the World Tree, which shimmers in the sun.[2]

Schierke sways a little and leans on her staff, as she comes out of her trance and the spirits dissipate. Casca throws her head back and laughs with amazement, looking over at Guts. He smiles at her, his eye shining. Serpico straightens slowly, eyes wide and cautious, and he adjusts his garments discretely as Puck and Ivarela bicker in the air above him.

“Well, boss,”[3] says Guts calmly, looking at Schierke, “which way now?”

Schierke blushes a bit, then points. “We must follow this branch in that direction, towards the trunk of the tree. Upon reaching the epicenter of the branches, I shall be able to identify the outgrowth nearest our destination.” She looks a bit concerned as she continues, “This route shall take us to the great city established by the Falcon, which lies at the base of the tree, but I am afraid there is no alternative path. I am sorry.”

Guts smiles. “Hey, guide witch, we’re just grateful you’re comin’—don’ you start over-worryin’ about us.”

Schierke looks unconvinced and a little awkward, but she nods.

As she turns to lead the way forward, Casca gives Guts a strange look. A combination of surprise, appreciation, and amusement.

He blinks at her. “What?” he asks as they fall in behind Schierke, Serpico bringing up the rear.

Casca elbows him, but gently. “Just something becoming clearer,” she says, smiling.

Guts’ brow knits in confusion, and Casca sighs.

“Never mind. Hey, Schierke!” she speeds up so she can stride beside the girl. “Let my mistakes help you: when a man—”

Guts hurriedly drops back as the two women and two elves talk. Judging by the elves, it’s an increasingly heated conversation that he wants no part of.

He’s walking beside Serpico now. Guts glances over at the other man, but doesn’t say anything.

After a few moments, Serpico turns a little and offers Guts a polite nod. “I do not believe I had the opportunity to profer my congratulations yesterday.”

Guts raises his eyebrows, then a faint smile appears on his face. “Thanks.”

They walk in silence for a time, as the sea below them becomes rolling hills and forests.

“Guts,” says Serpico, his gaze fixed forward, “do you not desire vengeance?”

Guts stares at him. Serpico’s eyes are half open, watching the girls ahead of them…or perhaps just gazing off into space.

As the silence stretches, Serpico clarifies, “upon Griffith, I mean.”

Guts doesn’t say anything for a beat. And then he starts to laugh.

Serpico’s eyes widen and he turns in surprise as Guts bends over slightly, holding his stomach he’s laughing so hard.

Finally his laughter trails off into a chuckle. “Do I want revenge?’”

Guts shakes his head. And when he looks at Serpico again, his eye is open and wild.

“I wanna jam my sword into him again an’ again an’ again until there’s nothin’ left but bloody ribbons. I wan’ it more than I want to breathe, to sleep, to…” his voice trails off.

Serpico’s brow furrows, “But—”

Guts glances at him. “Ain’t you ever wondered,” the big man asks, “what it is fuelin’ that beast I am when I use the armor?”

Serpico’s eyes widen.

“Hate, Serpico, that’s what. For him. Hate so huge and vicious I…”

Guts turns to look straight ahead, at Schierke and Casca. “After what happened, hate was all I…”

“I abandoned her, Serpico. Left Casca in a cave, where the spirits the brand draws couldn’ get to her. An’ she was alone in the dark down there, for years. ‘Til she stopped eatin’, then ran away an’ wound up at that tower. While I poured myself into hate and tried to forget I’d ever had anythin’ else. Forget I could feel anythin’ else.”

A few moments pass after Guts stops speaking.

Serpico eyes the armor’s cloak, which seems eerily animated.

“Then,” says the younger man, “at the end of this journey, it is your desire to—”

“Tear him to shreds like a beast,” finishes Guts, his eye cruel.

Then he exhales.

“But that,” he says sharply, looking at Serpico, “that comes after we get the kid outta him. Understand?”

Serpico’s eyes turn forward.

“And,” he says quietly, “if such a thing should prove impossible?”

Guts stops walking and grabs Serpico’s shoulder, pulls him around and glares at him.

“It won’,” Guts hisses, eye full of fire. “He can’t have him.”

Serpico looks at Guts calmly, face blank, eyes slightly open. “At what price?”

“Guts!” calls Casca, “Serpico! Hurry up!”

Guts’ hand convulses on Serpico’s arm—then relaxes.

He turns and starts walking. Serpico follows suit.

“Serpico,” Guts says, “I know you wanna avenge Farnesse.”

Serpico doesn’t look at him. “It is my duty as her retainer.”

Guts eyebrows rise. “An’ as her brother?”

Serpico bows his head slightly. “I cannot claim,” he says quietly, “to… The chance to act as her brother died with her.”

Guts doesn’t respond for a moment. Then he sighs. “Anyway, if you make me choose between a chance at rescuin’ the kid an’ your revenge, between you an’ him—I won’ hesitate. Clear?”

Serpico’s eyes are hooded.

“Understood.”

[1] This is me making Serpico’s lack of plot itself a plot! I’m really pleased with how this turned out. The fact that he didn’t make connections or grow like Farnesse is now itself folded into the tragedy of her early death.

[2] I made the branches a tiny bit more solid than they appear in V40 E357. My excuse is that they entered a different way. It’s a cheat, but it’s a cheat I stand by because otherwise, since it’s a longer trip than the one in that episode, the characters would be going “what the fuck” and stumbling around like morons for way too long.

[3] V25 E211

Chapter Text

As they walk, they begin to see clear traces of other branches, arching through the sky around them. More, then more, then—

“We are approaching the nexus of the branches,” says Schierke. Everyone is walking near her now. “Once there, I will be able to identify the branch which runs nearest to the approximate location of the Bakiraka village.”

“That nexus,” says Guts, “it’s right on top of Falconia, right?”

Schierke nods. “But I shall not require much time to calculate our direction, so we should be able to depart unnoticed.”

“Unless there are guards,” says Casca, drawing her sword, eyes trained ahead. They all follow her gaze and spot the figures standing where the branches meet, inside the faintly visible tree trunk.

“Serpico,” snaps Guts, “keep ‘em from getting’ reinforcements.”

Serpico nods and begins to run, then almost to soar forward with supernatural speed, wind spirits leaping to life around him.

Casca glares at Guts as he starts forward after Serpico, his hand raised to hold her back. “If you think—”

“You haven’ been in a real melee in years, Cas,” Guts says firmly, “An’ someone’s gotta guard our girl.”[1]

Casca’s face sets. “Fine,” she mutters. But Guts is already pelting after Serpico.

Only three apostles meet the men, and the fight doesn’t last long. The single truly dangerous moment is when the smallest apostle panics and bolts, heading towards the girls.

Casca steps forward, then neatly dodges its half-mad charge, her eyes intent as her sword pierces through a gap in its armor.

But as it falls toward the edge of the branch, she doesn’t quite get her sword out of its flesh quickly enough, and then her feet are over air…

Puck is clinging to her free wrist and frantically pulling, and she hears Guts and Schierke both shout her name…

Then there’s a torrent of wind and she’s in Serpico’s arms, and they’re floating upward.[2]

He deposits her back on ‘solid’ ground, then gives her a courteous bow. Casca nods in thanks as she stands, breathing deeply, and looks over at Guts.

She sees tension leave him, and he turns back to the fight, neatly impaling the last apostle as it tries to sneak up behind him.

Schierke runs up and hugs her, and then all three of them approach Guts and the center of the tree. Guts is squaring off against a young, fair-haired man with a sword. Behind the fighter, a dubious look on her face as she watches his feet move, is a young woman with blonde hair and wide yes.

“Sonia!” shout Ivarela and Schierke together.

All eyes turn to them, although Mule tries to flick his gaze between her and Guts. Sonia looks up at Schierke and blinks.

“Owl?”

Then she smiles, and cries out, “Owl!”[3] She walks forward…right between the swords of the two men.

Guts’ eyebrow rises, and Mule tries to stop her but she kicks at his knee and he has to step back.

Ivarela darts forward to hug Sonia, perching happily on her shoulder.

“Owl witch, Schierke!” Sonia cries again, smiling broadly—and then her eyes flicker to Casca.

She pauses. Turns, and looks at Guts more closely. Her enthusiasm visibly dims.

“Phooey,” Sonia sighs, looking sulky. “You’re with them, aren’t you?”

Her face momentarily lights up. “Unless you’re their prisoner?”

Schierke blinks in confusion. “No, these are my friends.”

Sonia looks sad again. “Oh dear. These are not good friends to have, Schierke.”

Schierke stares at the girl, who seems a bit taller than before. “What are you even doing—”

“You’re one of his, aren’t you?” interrupts Casca.

Sonia straightens at her tone, clearly bristling. “I’m the medium of the Falcon, proud member of the Band of the Falcon, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Casca’s hand squeezes her sword hilt convulsively, and Guts glares at Mule over their still-drawn blades.

“Schierke,” says Serpico, “it would not be wise to linger here.”

Schierke starts a little at his words, then nods. “Right,” she says, giving Sonia one last sorrowful look before stepping to the side a bit and closing her eyes. Ivarela flies back to her shoulder, shooting tortured looks at Sonia.

Then Serpico quietly steps between Schierke and Sonia.

Sonia gives him a skeptical look, then sighs.

“You two,” she says, looking from Guts to Casca, “really are the traitors, then. Phooey again. I should’ve brought more war demons with me, but Lord Griffith is  away for a bit and most of the good ones are with him.” She sighs theatrically.

“You seem quite loyal,” says Casca, her eyes dark, sword still in her hand.

Sonia looks at the older woman like she’s an idiot. “Of course I am. I’m the Falcon’s medium. All this,” she stretches her hands to indicate the kingdom below, “he couldn’t have done it without me.” Her face bears a look of deep satisfaction.

“Lemme guess,” says Guts quietly, glancing at her, his sword still pointing towards Mule. “Griffith gave you a place in the world when you were feelin’ alone, or discarded, or trod down. “

Sonia’s forehead creases, just a little.[4]

Guts looks over at Mule. “You too, I’ll bet?”[5]

A beat of silence passes. Guts gives Sonia a dry look. “Doesn’t this one speak?”

“Why waste breath on a traitor?” snaps Mule.

Guts’ eyebrows rise as he looks back at the boy. But then Mule ruins the tension by glancing irritably at the girl. “Sonia, will you please—”

“Oh hush,” she snaps, “they’d have already hurt us if they were going to.”

Casca looks at Sonia levelly. “Your loyalty won’t save you.”

Sonia rolls her eyes.

“You two,” asks Guts, “ever wonder how those monsters get made? Or how Griffith got so powerful?”

Sonia starts to give him an exasperated look, but a heartbeat later her eyes light up. “Ooooh, a secret?”

“Sonia, do not trust—” begins Mule, but Guts talks over him.

“They betray someone they love to be devoured by demons,” says Guts, eye cold. “A ‘sacrifice.’”

Sonia frowns, then makes the connection. “Ah, you mean that’s what Griffith did to you?” Her tone doesn’t change as she says the words.

No one speaks.

Then Sonia turns to give Casca a pitying look. “You weren’t good enough to fly alongside him[6] all the way, I guess.”

Casca’s mouth falls open, her eyes becoming wide—but Schierke suddenly chants a word, and then there’s smoke everywhere.

*This way!* her thoughts sound in their heads, indicating the right direction.

“When it gets bad, he’ll throw you aside, too!” shouts Casca, as they all start to run.

---------

Sometime later, they stop, panting. They’re out of sight of the city, and the world around them seems empty.

Guts lowers Schierke to the ground. He had to carry her as they ran, otherwise she’d never have kept up. She sits on her heels, breathing the cold air deeply, her eyes wide and frightened.

“Do you think—” she starts, but then…

“We gotta save Sonia!” shrieks Ivarela

Guts doesn’t look hopeful, but he gives a small nod. “We can try, Schierke.”

The young witch closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. Then she nods, firmly.

“Casca, are you injured?” they hear Serpico say.

They both turn. Casca’s still bent over a few steps behind them, breathing shallowly, trembling a little.

“I’m…fine,” she gasps between breaths, pushing herself upright. “Just…the cold...”

She feels Guts before she sees him. His warmth is at her side, then his metal arm is around her shoulders, and his black cloak billows around her.

“Better?” he asks quietly.

Casca swallows, then nods.

“We must continue onward if we are to arrive before nightfall,” says Schierke, now standing as well, straightening her hat.

As they all start walking, Guts and Casca hang back behind the others.

Casca tugs Guts’ arm down, and he pulls her a bit closer.

“That girl,” she says softly, eyes wide and full of the memory of loyalty, trust, hope. And betrayal.

“I know,” murmurs Guts, his own eye distant.

Casca tucks in a bit nearer to him, and something changes about her step.

Guts looks down and realizes she’s closed her eyes, leaning her head against his chest.

They keep walking forward.[7]

[1] I’m aware that in V41 E359 the possibility that 2 years of not holding a sword (except for a second one time) would have any effect on Casca’s fighting ability was dismissed. I don’t truly mind that Miura did that, because it gave him more freedom with potential fight scenes going forward. But as mentioned before, I’m not emphasizing the fight parts of the fight scenes, so I’m keeping it a tad more realistically human. 

[2] This is a parallel to the moment Serpico saves Farnesse in episode V30 E259.

[3] Sonia calling Schierke “owl” is a reference to their meeting in episode V28 E246. A line at the end when Sonia refers to Casca not “flying with him,” is also a reference to Sonia’s bird allegory thing.

[4] V22 E184-185

[5] V23 E192-195

[6] This refers to the story Sonia told in V28 E246, as well as Casca’s old insecurities from the Golden Age.

[7] So in case it wasn’t clear, Casca is being reminded of herself by Sonia’s devotion. Honestly, the main difference is that Sonia is utterly confident of her importance in a way that Casca never really was—she was just too self-aware, while Sonia is more self-absorbed.

The thing with Casca closing her eyes and letting Guts steer her forward (I love that moment) is a combination of something that happened in V10 E50, when Casca held onto Guts’ cloak and let him walk forward, just following him, and the iconic image from V22 E182, when Guts brings Casca under his cloak.

I really like this moment not just because it’s sweet, but because it’s a nice parallel-with-growth. Something very heartbreaking that I eventually noticed in the chapters when Guts and Casca are together, before everything goes to hell, is how physically affectionate Guts is with Casca. Yeah, there’s a sexual element to it, but it goes deeper than that. Guts adores her, he wants to “touch her with tenderness,” as he puts it, wants to be close to her. To have some of their intimacy back. The support. But Casca is completely passive. She accepts his touch, but she hardly acknowledges it and barely reciprocates it. Compare that to how she is with Farnesse. She was not comfortable engaging with Guts directly like that, at just about any point.

So this scene is Guts and Casca, once again as in episode 182, setting out on a journey. But this time, they’re leaning on each other, supporting each other. This time, when Casca feels overwhelmed by her demons, she won’t be alone. And this time, she trusts Guts completely. And being trusted by Casca is, for Guts, an act of goddamn grace, and it changes everything. So, just like the last time they set out, there’s demons to face ahead of them. But neither of them are going to have to face those demons alone.

Guts and Casca have both reckoned with the core fact of Griffith’s betrayal, and they’ve begun to reckon with the manner of his betrayal (the rape, mostly). But the scope of the betrayal is something that they’ve been able to avoid facing. While they were on Skellig, surrounded by that new group of friends, they could keep it at a distance. But Sonia, with her reminder of who they each used to be, how they each used to feel, is the opening shot of that stage of reckoning. And of grief.

Chapter Text

Schierke easily finds a wind spirit to bring them down from the great tree and deposit them on the rocky territory of the Bakiraka.

It’s the first time they’ve entered the wide world since the Great Roar, and it’s a strange place indeed. Odd, mad creatures hide as they approach, or stand at a distance and watch them warily. Once, a strange beast like a giant bat with a lion’s head flies overhead, but it doesn’t seem to notice them.

The path Schierke had the wind spirit take them to becomes narrower and narrower, which she insists is what she was told would happen. Puck flies straight up to look around, then comes right back, shrugging.

“Nothin’,” he says. “Not for miles, far as I can tell.”

“We should soon consider making camp,” says Serpico, eyeing the sun as it approaches the rocky land ahead of them. “I suspect that, even with your brands shielded, we shall attract attention soon, drawing spirits and perhaps then the Bakiraka themselves?”

“Nah,” says Guts, “walkin’ as loud as we were did that jus’ fine.” He’s reaching for his sword.

The others stare at him for a beat, then a faint sound of falling rocks makes them all turn to the rocky hills above them. Serpico and Casca draw their swords, Casca pushing Schierke behind her as Guts bring out his blade.

All around them, the earth and stones are moving and revealing themselves as humans, ones cloaked in loose, dark garments, their feet bare, their hands clutching weapons.[1]

“We come in peace,” calls Schierke. “We are from Elfhelm, and wish only to barter with the legendary weaponsmiths of the Bakiraka!”

One man leaps from the rocks to land on the path ahead of them, his eyes wary over his face wrapping. He seems about to say something—but then a high-pitched shriek fills the air.

“Guts?!”

One of the swathed figures, a small one, splits away from the formation, Strands of golden hair peek out from her head wrappings, glinting in the late afternoon sun.

“It is you!” she yelps as she comes closer, the wrap over the bottom of her face beginning to fall, and Guts turns towards her.

Then she stops, as the leader of the group moves so quickly it’s like he materialized in front of her.

“Erica,” he says, tone exasperated, “you are on guard, now.”

Erica[2] halts, snapping to attention in front of the Bakiraka. She crosses her wrists at her chest in an apparent gesture of respect.

“Yes, sir!” she cries out. “But teacher, I know these…” she glances over at the group, “some of these people, sir!”

Guts blinks at her tone, not to mention her height—she’s taller than she was last time Guts saw her,[3] but even so he’s sure he’s looking at Godot’s daughter. But the way she moves now, looks at the head warrior…

“She’s changed a lot,” says Puck quietly, huddling on Guts’ shoulder, apparently hiding from the Bakiraka.

The leader looks at Erica evaluatively for a moment, then shakes his head. “Your input is acknowledged, but you are not actually a member of our clan, and thus you cannot offer them—”

“That’s Griffith’s sworn enemy,” says Erica, pointing at Guts with one hand and pulling free her face wrap with the other. “So, he’s a valuable ally to the Bakiraka.”

The leader turns to look at them, eyes bright and cunning. “Hm,” he says. “In days such as these…that is, at least, enough to give you an audience with our chief and elders rather than an ugly death here in the dirt. Provided, of course, you surrender your weapons.”

“No,” says Guts flatly.

The leader stares at him, standing preternaturally still. Then his hands come to rest on the hilts of the blades at his waist. “Well, in that case—”

“You’ll kill off valuable allies for being a bit stubborn?” asks Casca, stepping out from behind Guts to face the Bakiraka leader. “Rather foolish of you. And you’re setting yourself up to lose hard-to-replace warriors trying to take us out, in a world where every sword is needed for a group to survive.”[4]

The leader hesitates, eyeing her. Then he shrugs. “Any hand that touches a sword in our village will be lost,” he says. “Will that suffice as a compromise?”

Guts snorts, and Casca elbows him, glaring up at him. He rolls his eye and nods, putting his sword on his back.

As his hand falls, the leader turns. “Follow—”

He stops, giving Erica an annoyed look. She’s rooted to the spot behind him, her mouth hanging open, gawking at Casca.

“You’re…” she chokes, then shrieks yet again, barreling forward so fast that she almost runs into the Bakiraka leader. She hits Casca with such force they both end up running into Guts, who just manages to keep his balance and stop them all from toppling.

“You can talk!!!!” Erica shouts, her arms tight around Casca.

Casca stares down at her, a dazed look on her face. “I know you…”

Erica’s face momentarily falls, then brightens. “I’m your favorite!”[5] she declares. “You like…liked me way better than him,” she adds, directing a brief glare at a bemused Guts. “You better be bein’ nice to her, Guts!”

“Well,” says Casca, a tiny bit vaguely, “nice enough that I married him.”

Erica shrieks again, tears instantly filling her eyes. “You—!”

“Erica!” snaps the guard leader.

Erica’s face shows deep consternation, but she pulls away from Casca and sulkily rejoins the Bakiraka. As she walks among them, she lets out a sudden yelp when another swathed figure—a girl about Erica’s age, from her outline—smacks her smartly on the ass.[6]

Puck blinks, then flutters after Erica, looking a bit upset. All three soon vanish behind a bend as the front guard of the Bakiraka start forward.

As she moves out of sight, Casca’s gaze lingers where Erica had been, a strange look on her face.

“Well,” says Serpico.

“Indeed,” responds Schierke, and both of them start forward after the Bakiraka.

Guts falls in beside Casca as they follow the others. Behind them, the Bakiraka rearguard fans out, but Guts and Casca both ignore them.

“Erica,” Guts says quietly, “took care of you when I left. Ever since—”

“I remember,” Casca says shortly.[7]

Guts looks down at her, though she’s on his right and he has to turn his whole head to see her. But she’s looking at the ground, lost in thought.

Knowin’ it, an’ facin’ it… Worry passes through Guts, but he pushes it aside. No time for all that, he thinks, eye turning to look ahead of them. I’ll just have to—

Casca’s hand finds his and squeezes.

Guts almost jumps, then relaxes. Tightening his jaw, he returns her grip with his own.

[1] Inspired by V21 E174.

[2] Reminder that Erica and Rickert went to the Bakiraka village with Silat in V38 E341

[3] So about the time dilation stuff: Like Miura, I’m fudging it.

Erica is big enough now to be included in this group. Rickert got taller as well. I’m not going to put a specific number on how long it’s been off-island. Less than 3 years is as close as I’ll give you. And I do this without an ounce of shame, because it was fudged from the beginning and it got fudgier in 364 when the boy showed up and stayed more time instead of less, directly contradicting what had previously been said about time on the island in V38 E342, and it was all handwaved away by Danaan saying, “time is vague on the island.”

[4] Casca’s behavior here and in other Bakiraka scenes later is inspired by her behavior when the gang arrived to rescue Griffith and she talked to Princess Charlotte, V10 E50.

[5] As seen in V13 E87, V17 E129, and V22 E177

[6] *Sigh* this one is for Miura. Remember that panel in V38 E334 where Erica’s face was propped up on Luca’s boobs while everyone took a group bath? *Facepalm.* It’s also a decent way of showing the level of familiarity Erica has with the people here.

[7] The idea behind Casca’s discomfort here is that she met Erica right after the Eclipse, V13 E89. Like, that was probably the next face she saw. So she’s got memories of the early days of Elaine coming up, and how those days happened. That’s what Guts means when he thinks about the difference between knowing and facing. It’s one thing to deal with knowing all these things, but seeing Erica again is more direct because it’s something external, someone external, rather than looking at the internal stuff, which has a level of subconscious safeguards.

Chapter Text

The Bakiraka ‘escort’ them along the path, which soon turns treacherous. The cleared space is narrow and the ground uneven, and it winds along cliff faces and hills that they have to traverse in the dying light.

As they make their way carefully up a steep sloped path, Erica reappears. She clambers along rocks and darts forward using tiny footholds and handholds, passing Schierke and Guts and halting by Casca. She grabs the woman’s arm and loudly demands an explanation.

Casca pauses, out of breath, and stares at the girl. “For what?”

“For…everything!” says Erica, stamping her foot and sending pebbles tumbling into shadows below. The Bakiraka behind Serpico, who is following Casca, hisses something at Erica. She grabs Casca’s wrist to pull her forward. Behind them, Serpico hurries to keep closer, subtly watching Casca’s slightly-erratic steps on the cliff edge.

A moment later Casca does stumble a little. Guts tries to look around, but he barely fits on the path and can’t really see her.

“It’s all right,” says Erica, grabbing Casca’s arm and grinning, steadying the woman. “Hey, you want something to help?” She reaches into her belt pouch and takes out a few leaves. “These will give you plenty of energy to—”[1]

Casca, blinking slowly at the leaves, suddenly draws back from Erica. Serpico almost steps forward to support her, but Casca stops before the rock edge.

“No,” she says to Erica, and then moves forward past the girl with renewed determination.

There was a note of fear in her voice, and Puck flies from Erica;s to Casca’s shoulder, looking concerned.

Erica stares after them for a moment, surprised. Then the Bakiraka behind Serpico growls at her, and she scurries ahead, staring at the leaves in her hand.

“Oh!” She cries suddenly, “Your mind…”

Casca doesn’t look at her.

Erica gets a strange look on her face. She trots forward until she’s near Casca, then puts her hand on the older woman’s elbow.

“Sorry,” she says quietly. “Can I help?”

Casca looks down at the girl’s hand. Then, she slowly lets her arm relax, and Erica’s arm slides beneath it. The girl’s about a foot shorter than her, but her steps on the treacherous path are steady and she helps Casca negotiate the way forward.

Serpico, watching the two, gets a faint, sorrowful look on his face.

The path circles upward to the top of the mountain, or what looked like the top of the mountain from below. But when they reach it, they find it’s really the rim of a vast empty space. In the hollow mountain has been built, buildings stacked haphazardly along the sides (though stopping a safe distance from the rim), the village of the Bakiraka.[2]

There’s a huge metallic net rolled up at the edge of the top opening. The only way into the village is to go down a steep staircase, straight and so narrow that Guts, now behind the others, has to descend with his body at an awkward angle.

After a few dozen steps, Serpico glances back at Guts and taps a small hole in the wall. It’s one of dozens of arrow holes, positioned in the walls at angles, some high above and some right by their feet.

“It is for the best, certainly,” says Serpico, “that we do not intend harm.”

Guts nods, then his attention is drawn to the sound of foreign swearing coupled with Erica’s name. He glimpses the girl’s blonde hair as she squeezes ahead of someone to speed her way down the stairs.

Casca looks up, giving Guts a nervous look. He smiles at her.

They reach the floor of the settlement. Around them, cloaked figures appear in doors and windows. Most carry weapons, long and wicked-looking blades that end in cruel hooks. Except for a handful of unnaturally bulky men who look like rocks, all of the villagers are thin, with tight cheeks and hollow eyes.

“They’re hungry,” Puck whispers to Guts, alighting on his shoulder. Guts nods, eye moving alertly over the Bakiraka arrayed before him.

There is a wide, flat space at the bottom of the staircase. As the last of the guards reach it, loud voices drift across the plaza, coming from an archway set at a downward angle. It seems to lead underground, and it’s echoing with the words, “Erica, what is so—”

Rickert’s voice fades as Erica drags him out into the open. He’s wearing a loose, sooty robe, and he’s taller than the last time Guts saw him. He looks as hungry as anyone. His slightly sunken eyes find the visitors immediately, and widen.

“Guts?” he says, slowing his step, clearly baffled.

Then, Casca turns toward him.

They both freeze as their eyes meet.

The change in Casca is unmistakable. Rickert’s breath catches, his eyes huge.

“Ca-Casca?”

Her eyes flood with tears, and she runs forward. Rickert takes a halting step towards her, but a moment later she’s hit him, wrapping him in a tight, fierce hug.

“Rickert, why are you so huge?” she mutters through her tears. His head is almost resting on her shoulder.

“It’s…you,” Rickert says dumbly. His own eyes start to fill with tears. “You’re…”

His gaze meets Guts’, whose face is full of feeling.

“You’re back,” Rickert whispers, astonished—then joyful.

His knees buckle as he hugs Casca back, and they both fall to the ground, crying.

“I take it,” says Serpico quietly, “they have a previous acquaintance.”

Guts snorts. “Those two were in the Band of the Falcon years ‘fore I turned up. Casca’s known Rickert longer ‘n…almost anyone.”[3]

“I see,” says Serpico, eyeing Guts sidelong. “Is he aware…”

Guts doesn’t look at him. “Some.”

They see Casca bend her head down, her face touching Rickert’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” the boy’s whispering, “I let you down, I’m—”[4]

“Your orders were to survive, remember?” says Casca quietly. She pulls his head back, cradling his face in her hands.

“Well done,” she says, smiling wearily.

Rickert musters a small smile of his own.

“I take it,” says a voice, “you know our visitors well, Rickert.”

The speaker is a tall man wearing clothes a shade finer than those of the other Bakiraka. As he speaks, he draws his veil from his face.

Rickert stands quickly, pulling Casca up as he does. “Yes, Chief Silat.[5] This is Casca, commander of the Band of the Falcon after Griffith. And this is Guts, former Raider Captain. They are among those the Falcon branded.[6]”

Casca looks surprised at the mention of the brand, and Guts blinks, his eyebrows rising.

“Hm.” The chief looks at the guard captain standing next to him. “Enemies of the Falcon indeed, it would seem,” he says. “Well done, Sarmat—”

His eyes fall on Guts, and widen.

“You!”

Guts blinks at him. “Me?”

Silat’s kohl-lined eyes are gigantic. “How did you come here?”

Guts stares at him. “I walked…” he says slowly, as if looking for the trick.

Silat splutters. “You…as if you didn’t…”

Rickert gives Guts an urgent look. “You met the night you came back to the Falcons, Guts, remember?”

“That was kinda a busy night,” says Guts, catching Casca’s eye and giving her a slightly cheeky grin. She actually blushes, glaring at him. “You’ll haveta—”

Then Guts’ eye falls on the weapons at Silat’s belt.

“That street performer!”[7]

Silat’s face darkens, and tension grows in the air. It comes not only from him, but from all the gathered Bakiraka.

Schierke, standing behind Guts, pokes him in the back with her staff.

“Be more polite to chiefs!” hisses Ivarela.

Puck leaps up from Guts’ shoulder to hover in front of Silat’s face. “Please forgive this idiot, Chief-assassin-sir!” the elf cries. “He’s too stupid to remember names! It’s a failing, one which should—”

“Silence, pest,” snaps Silat.

Puck’s mouth falls open. Then his chest expands with his fury. “How dare—”

Erica rockets forward and snatches the elf out of the air. She says something that sounds apologetic to Silat in another language, the same one being quietly murmured by all the Bakiraka around them. Silat doesn’t look at her as she speaks, but his air does become slightly less murderous.

“You were,” says Casca, stepping between Guts and Silat, “an honorable opponent,[8] as I recall.” Her face is clean of tears, and her gaze is steady as it meets the Bakiraka chief’s.

“I apologize for my husband’s rudeness.” Rickert turns to stare at her so fast he almost falls over, a choking noise escaping him.

Casca ignores him, focusing on Silat. “We are indebted to your guards for our safe passage to this village, and we look forward to discussing,” her eyes are firm and cold, “an alliance to destroy the Falcon.”

Silat’s eyebrows rise. But he shoots another glare at Guts.

“Though the Bakiraka are renowned assassins,[9]” says Serpico, stepping a little forward, “I have also heard it said that they make enviable allies.”

The obvious flattery provokes some annoyed muttering in the gathered Bakiraka. But more look grudgingly pleased. They seem to be on the verge of moving on from glaring at Guts.

But before they can, Guts sighs and speaks up.

“I apologize,” he says to Silat.

Everyone turns to stare at him. He ignores them.

“Old habit, bein’ disrespectful to higher-ups,” Guts says with a shrug. “But you’re clearly well-respected by this lot, and you all have managed to stay independent an’ keep this village from getting’ overwhelmed, in spite of all that out there. It’s impressive.”

He stops speaking. As it becomes clear that that’s as contrite as he’ll be, people start trading confused looks. All eyes slowly move to Silat, whose face is twitching with emotions.

“I,” the chief finally says, teeth bared, “in light of your potential utility to my clan, accept your apology.” His eyes are as hard as ever.

Casca steps forward. “We are here,” she says, “to obtain from your smiths a particular weapon, one which we believe can defeat the Falcon.”

“Weapons,” retorts Silat, “like all we possess, are not something we Bakiraka part with easily.” But after a moment, he looks away from Guts and nods to another Bakiraka, then turns around.

“Follow me,” he says. “The elders were told of your arrival and its reason by scouts sent ahead, and should be prepared for you by now.” He begins to walk to the far side of the plaza.

As the group falls in behind him, Rickert yelps, “You two’re married?”

“Yeah, well,” says Casca drily, “as long as he apologizes better’n that in the future.” She elbows Guts lightly, and he rolls his eye.

That’s when Puck wings in, beaming at Guts. “I can’t believe ya had it in you!” the elf cries, dancing in front of Guts’ face. “All my doin’, ‘course, and I couldn’t be proude—”

Guts unceremoniously stuffs Puck into his pouch.

[1] Erica’s offer of cocoa leaves inspired by the appearance of those leaves in V15 E101. I included it because it just kind of makes sense that this is something the Bakiraka would use. It also resulted in a great moment, reminiscent of Farnesse, between Erica and Casca.

[2] So the Bakiraka home! There’s a panel in V38 E339 that shows an image of the path to the Bakiraka village. There’s this tiny path on the edge of a spire of rock, and a big ass pile of rock/mountain to the left. I decided that that was the village, that the Bakiraka had hollowed out a mountain to make a secret and well-fortified village. Kind of like houses in ancient Mesoamerica, they built into the walls of the mountain.

[3] Rickert wasn’t in the Band when Casca joined (we don’t see him back in V6 E16), but he was in it when Guts joined. With the rest of the Band being dead, the ‘living’ person who’s known Casca longest is Griffith.

[4] Rickert was with the group of wounded who were killed on the way to the rendezvous with the rest of the Falcons. He and real-Casca last met in V10 E49.

[5] They’re calling Silat the clan chief here. That’s because it was mentioned that he was a clan chief’s son in V38 E340, and it’s a reasonable inference that clan chief is an inherited position. His clan chief dad died between our hero’s arrival and the last time he was in the village.

Why? Because I didn’t want to create a new character, and just having Silat be the chief was so much easier. No apologies, it’s a damn dangerous world and death is a normal thing to happen.

[6] Rickert agreed to tell the Bakiraka these kinds of details in V38 E339

[7] Guts is referencing events from V9 E41-E43. Silat’s perspective of the same events was seen in V38 E340.

[8] This is a reference to something I like about Silat: he’s one of the few men Casca fought in the Golden Age who didn’t threaten to rape her.

[9] Bakiraka as assassins calls back to their initial introduction in V10 E55-57, which is mentioned a few times later.

Chapter Text

“The reign of the Falcon,” says one of the gaunt Bakiraka elders, “has not been kind to those who do not take shelter beneath his wings.”

Guts nods, unsurprised. He and the others are in the center of a small room within the side of the mountain. Rickert is standing awkwardly near the door, and Erica wasn’t allowed in at all.

The elders are seated along the walls of the room, in chairs hewn from the earth. Though the room is made from dirt and stone, there are small paintings on the walls, and threadbare carpets cover the floor around the fire pit—luxury, by the standards of these spartan people. Many of the Bakiraka elders are missing body parts or covered in scars, but all have sharp eyes in their hollow faces.

“From the looks of it,” says Guts, “livin’ in a village out here’d be difficult even in the best of times.”

Silat, who is leaning against a wall between the seats of two elders, nods shortly. Another elder, covered in old burn scars, elaborates, “We usually depend on foraging, hunting, and goods bartered for with merchants we meet at the edge of the mountains. But now no merchants can travel, and we have no other means of getting the provisions they brought us.”

“But the Bakiraka are not the only ones who face annihilation in the coming months. Word has come with those of the clan who have returned from their work in the wider world: every kingdom is in chaos, unable to feed itself even if it somehow manages to defend itself. All kingdoms—except the one ruled by the Falcon.”[1]

“A brutal,” observes Serpico quietly, “yet effective method of conquest by default.”

“In that case, you must—” begins Casca, but Guts cuts in and speaks over her.

“Bakiraka work for gold, like any mercenary,” he says, ignoring the raised eyebrows and glares that meet the comparison. “You don’ think Griffith’d give you gold if you came over to his side?”

Casca winces—but doesn’t argue the point, waiting for the elders to respond instead.

“The Falcon,” says Silat coolly, “is inhuman. His true motives and powers remain inscrutable. To yield ourselves to such a will, as would be required in a scenario such as the one you propose—only as a last resort shall we do such a thing.” His hand moves to the hilt of his wind swords. “We live by our own strength, here, and no others’.”[2]

Guts gets a mildly annoyed look at these words. Am I ‘bout to start likin’ them? He grins faintly. “Fair enough,” he says, nodding to Silat and the room at large.

“You say,” pipes up Schierke, and all eyes move to her. She blushes slightly, but plows on, “You cannot find adequate food in these mountains. But we passed a forest on our way here, which can be no more than a day’s walk distant. Surely, there…?”

“It contains only darkness,” spits an elderly woman with a single eye, “and creatures of it.”

Schierke frowns. “Have none of the returning Bakiraka brought word of a place where humans may—”

“All lands are hostile to humans,” says a grey-haired man with no arms. “We are merely an unusually high order of prey animals in this new world, it would seem.”

Schierke’s frown deepens.

“Oy, witch,” says Guts, and she jumps. “Talk to us.”

Schierke hesitates for a moment, shooting a glance first at Guts, then at Casca. She squares her shoulders and grips her staff firmly.

“The branches of the World Tree run through and link the physical and astral worlds,” the young witch says, “but the Great Roar cannot have dissolved all barriers between the realms, or we would exist in pure abyss. Many parts of the astral world are simply uninhabitable by life as we know it. Had they all been breached and unified, everything in this world would be long dead.”

“What seems to have happened instead is that the boundaries which once separated the interstice and the physical world have collapsed, and thus passage to and from deeper realms was made easier. Still, that cannot explain why the world now is uniformly hostile to any form of human life. It is true that the interstice is home to many dark creatures, such as trolls and dragons—but it is not only their domain. There are merrows, elves, and many other creatures kin to those inhabiting Elfhelm who have lived dispersed throughout the plane of the interstice.”[3]

“Mankind survived ancient times, when the worlds were more closely linked and passage between the interstice and the physical world was also easier. It does not make sense that this new world would be not merely chaotic and dangerous, but actually uninhabitable by humanity!”

“It’s almost like everyone’s branded,” mutters Guts.

Schierke stares at him. His eye widens.

“Rickert told us that Griffith,” says Silat slowly, eyes intent, “gave you those brands through the power of—”

“It’s them,” breathes Casca. “They’re making the world like this.”

“…It is, theoretically, possible,” says Schierke, voice trembling only a little, “that the branches of the tree penetrated to a depth allowing them to—not manifest physically in the way the Falcon has, since that ritual was quite involved, but…if they have been able to approach our world without the extraordinary circumstances once required, it would be…they may have…they most likely would be able to directly manipulate the physical world, resulting in…” Her voice trails off. [4]

After a moment, the burned elder muses, “Rulership of the all worlds? These inhuman ones do not lack for ambition.”

“The living and the dead,” breathes Rickert, his eyes wide.

Everyone looks at him. Silat’s eyes narrow. “You refer to the ceremonies of parting?”

Rickert nods, and looks at Casca and the others. “Each day, all those who die on their way to Falconia or fall in battle for the city—their souls are summoned by Griffith, so that they can say goodbye to their loved ones.”

Guts becomes very still, as Puck sits bolt upright on his shoulder.

“Interesting,” says Schierke. “He must use their belief in his abilities, along with their memory and desire to see their loved ones, as a touchpoint to draw in and momentarily rematerialize their souls before they move on to other worlds designated by their karma.”[5]

“Everyone in Falconia,” says Rickert quietly, bitterly, “thinks it’s a paradise. It’s safe, comfortable. The land around the city is protected by great magical crystals repelling all the evil creatures,[6] which somehow also make the area fertile year-round so there’s always enough food in the city. And then, thanks to those ceremonies, people don’t even fear death.[7]”

Guts makes an odd sound in his throat. Casca glances at him, and he looks away. She frowns, reaching out to touch his arm, but Schierke is speaking again.

“I draw my power through pacts with spirits, or by manipulation of the natural elements. But what you describe is not something a spirit would create, nor something that could be willed into existence by belief alone.”

“You come seeking a sword,” says Silat, thoughtful, “but if we could determine the source of the power that might create such things as those crystals…”

“The Great Tree?” suggests the armless elder.

Schierke shakes her head, and starts to speak as Puck leans close to Guts’ left ear.

“Guts,” the elf whispers, “we gotta tell them.”

Guts closes his eye.

“If we don’t…” Puck continues, looking around, eyes wide.

“Well, if their source comes from the depths of the abyss,” the one-eyed elder is saying, “would it not now be possible to travel there by use of the Tree—”

“They’re gonna do somethin’ bad!” hisses Puck.

Guts sighs, and gives Casca a sad look that she doesn’t see. Then he takes a deep breath, catches Rickert’s eye, and speaks.

“You said Griffith,” he says, loudly enough to drown out everyone, “summons all the souls of the dead. You see what happens when they finish their goodbyes?”

Rickert’s face creases. “I didn’t see it, but someone at my lodgings did. Apparently the souls swirl up around Griffith, then he waves his hand and they vanish.”

“After he’s become,” says Guts grimly, “intertwined, connected to ‘em.”

People exchange looks. Guts breathes out heavily, then looks around at the room.

“All those whose lives an’ deaths get caught up with demonkind,[8]” he says, “when they die, their souls go to the Vortex of Souls.” He pauses.

“What is—” starts the one-eyed elder.

“Hell.”

No one speaks for long moments. Casca’s eyes are wide, Rickert’s mouth is open in horror.

“That must be where,” Guts says, “the God Hand’re getting’ what they need to do all they’re doin’. They’re connected to the Vortex. I’ve seen ‘em summon an’ order it. An’ even back then, it was like…an ocean of decayed souls.”

Silence meets his words.

“You mean,” Casca finally says, “all our comrades…us…we’ll all…”

Guts doesn’t answer. Puck looks at her sadly. Casca looks downward, and her fists clench at her sides.

“So, Griffith…” says Rickert… “the people in Falconia think he’s showing them kindness, mercy, grace, by giving them a chance to say goodbye, giving them proof of the soul continuing after death, but really—”

Guts nods. “He’s usin’ that ritual with the loved ones to damn ‘em.”[9]

“And,” says the burned elder slowly, “before much time has passed in the great scheme of things, with all the world in his power, each and every soul intertwining with his on its death—there will be entire generations of mankind in the Vortex, every single human life that is able to live in this world…”

“All those who die,” says Silat, “under the endless wings of the Falcon.”[10]

The room falls silent as the enormity of it all sinks in.

Finally, a bearded man with dreadlocks leans out of the shadows in the corner. Smoke billows from his mouth and nose, and inhales again from a long-stemmed pipe.

Guts looks him over coolly as Schierke gasps.

“You used to work for that apostle, Ganishka,” says Guts.

“Indeed,” answers Daiba,[11] “Though I think now that, in truth, we too were servants of the Falcon.” He exhales, long and slow. “Perhaps all we do is useless in the face of their plans. Or perhaps,” he inhales deeply, “there is somewhere they have over-reached. Something overlooked.”

“Tell us, if you will, about the sword you’ve come here for.”

[1] This is the extension of what was seen in V34 E305, alluded to in V37 E333, and outright stated in V39 E345

[2] This builds on Silat’s response in V33 E294 and what he says about joining Griffith in V38 E339

[3] What Schierke says here is based on the visuals and text from V24 E201

[4] Built on the visuals in V34 E306, which implied that the God Hand members had been freed to more directly interact with the real world.

[5] This is the ceremony first seen by the reader in V23 E194-195, seen by Rickert in V38 E335-336, and discussed by the Griffith nobility gang in V41 E358

[6] As seen in V37 E333

[7] Rickert is quoting Locus in V38 E336

[8] Guts is quoting V3 E0H

[9] Griffith actually alludes to this pretty directly in V23 E195, when he tells Mule where the souls go.

[10] SPOILERS

This is the closest I get to actually doing a “big theory reveal” thing: that the God Hand draw their power from the Vortex of Souls somehow, and also they do have a master plan. I think it’s pretty low-hanging fruit, theory-wise. Like Guts says, we’ve seen them summon the Vortex at will. Why they want to get the entire world population associated with Griffith and then sent to the Vortex as a result is a question you’ll note I didn't even try to answer in this section. Nor will I try it: I have not goddamn clue. I had some ideas, but in the end I decided not to try to add an endgame for the God Hand here.

To be brutally honest, part of that is just me and my personal bias: I don’t care all that much. I’m here for the characters and their endgame, not for the God Hand’s grand plan. Give me the end of Conviction over the end of Millennium Falcon any day.

But part of that is also the fact that trying to come up with a theory like that made me very, very aware of the yawning gap between myself and Kentaro Miura. Yes I know, that gap was always there—but the elaborate plans that the God Hand pulled off at the end of Birth Ceremony and Millennium Falcon are insane, and the plotting involved was out of this world, god-tier shit. Almost literally… Anyway, that kind of elaborate, subtle, beautiful, fucking huge villain plot is something that I put in the box labeled, “not for me to say/do.” It’s there along with events immediately after episode 364, the boy’s name, Puck humor, and THE ART.

[11] This is of course Daiba, introduced in V31 as a mid-tier bad guy. He has lots of knowledge of apostles etc., as shown by what he says and thinks in V33 and 34. He reappeared in V38 E334 and left for the Bakiraka village with the others in V38 E341.

Chapter Text

Schierke gives a vague overview of how they discovered the situation of Griffith and the Moonlight Boy, then she falls into a bizarre technical discussion with Daiba and the armless elder. That’s around the time that food gets brought and everyone settles on the carpets to eat.

There’s only a little meat and not much else to the meal, but Silat flatly rejects Serpico’s suggestion that the group eat their own Elfhelm provisions.

“You are guests,” the clan chief says curtly, “with no intent to harm, we can conclude.” But as he finishes, he shoots a suspicious glance at Guts, who rolls his eye.

“Hiya,” hisses Erica, squatting down between Guts and Casca after darting through the door. Rickert and another weaponsmith are now involved in the conversation about the sword, while everyone else eats.

At Erica’s words, Casca starts back for a second, then smiles. She pops a dried date in her mouth and asks, “Shouldn’t you be having dinner too?”

Erica shakes her head. “Nah, I ate with the other apprentices.” She looks a bit sheepish. “I’m not really skilled enough to be a guard, but they’re bringing out apprentices to fill the gaps sometimes.”

“You likin’ it here?” asks Guts, pushing back the flatbread Casca’s thrusting at him. She tears it in half and shoves part into his hand as Erica’s eyes light up.

“I get to do so much! Mistress says my chakram skills are super promising, and I’ll probably be slim enough to be a dancing poisoner[1] if I want, and—”

Puck lands on her shoulder, looking worried. “You really wanna be an assassin?”

Erica’s enthusiasm dims. She sighs. “They aren’t really assassins, that’s just the work they do to survive.”

“What’s the difference?” snorts Guts. Erica gives him a hurt look, but he doesn’t relent. “People become what they do, work like that.”

Erica relaxes, then smiles a bit. “And then they do something else, become something else.” She nods at the cluster of people towards the corner. “Like Rickert.”

“And anyway,” says Casca quietly, sipping her drink, “what someone can do…it’s only a part of who they are, really.”

Guts looks down at his hand, resting on his armored knee. “Until it isn’t.”

He looks up at Erica. “You sure it wouldn’t be like that, if you went an’ killed for coin?”

Her face creases. “Dunno,” she says, shrugging, “but since no one seems to be around who can pay assassins anymore, I might never find out.”

Puck sighs, then flutters to take a seat on her head. “Thought you were too young for such bloodthirsty thoughts.”

Erica’s smile fades. “In this world, with what’s out there—we all got plenty of time to think about death and killing.”

Then she brightens. “But rumor has it there’s some plan…?”

Guts gives a half smile, nods.

Erica leans in and throws an arm around Casca, surprising her and dislodging Puck. “Yay!” the girl yelps, her age showing, and Casca smiles too, as Puck flutters away muttering darkly.

“Casca, you’re a warrior, right?” says Erica, leaning back to look at the older woman. “You wanna come meet my mistress?”

Casca looks down at her empty plate. She’s been quiet ever since learning about the Vortex, eating without speaking.

“Yeah,” she says, standing. Erica follows her up, looking overjoyed. But Guts turns and snatches Casca’s wrist, looking up at her intently.

“Want more company?”

Casca gives him a slightly annoyed smile. “Just a distraction,” she says.

He keeps looking at her, his one eye flickering between her two. Then he nods and lets go.

Casca follows Erica out of the room, and they start across the plaza floor.

“We practice in an underground chamber,” says Erica, “the door’s just over—”

Her voice fades as Casca’s pace slows. They can both feel it, in the air, something…

Erica looks up sharply, gaze falling on the metal net between them and the sky. It was secured over the entrance to the village at dusk, and moon and starlight gently filter down through it. But, though that should have protected the village…

“You feel that, right?” asks Casca, reaching for her sword.

Erica’s hands move to rest on two chakrams at her waist as she nods, swallowing hard. Both women are sweating, shaking, struck by fear.[2]

Their eyes meet.

“Run,” mouths Casca. Erica swallows again, but gives a sharp nod. “Now!” shouts Casca, whirling around and drawing her sword.

Erica pelts away, shouting the alarm and racing for help, as Casca steps towards the sensed danger, stands before…

A shadow detaches impossibly from the wall, and grows a face…no, an oval mask.[3]

“I can smell the brand on you, this close,” the masked shadow croons, and now its whisper is coming from her left. Casca slashes with her blade, but the apostle is far too quick. And then, from behind her float the words, “Been waiting for you!”

Her eyes widen as she pivots and steps back. But it’s already—

“I remember you…”

Her sword rises, but now the white mask is just beside her right ear, and she barely dodges the thin blade that slices towards her neck.

She steps back, but she’s shaking so hard now that it’s hindering her movements, Where did it—

“Remember you screaming under our angel,” the apostle hisses, and Casca freezes.

“Brave,” the voice says, the shadows whirling around her, “to plan to challenge him. But did you really think you could see him again without shattering like you did then?”

The voice is so close…

“Don’t worry,” it croons, “You won’t have to go to him yourself.”

There are two long knives, moving forward, toward…

“I’ll just bring him your head—”

A chakram bounces off the top of the mask, marking it and pushing the body slightly back—far enough for a massive hunk of iron to slam down on the outstretched knives.

Casca drops back instinctively to make room for Guts to maneuver, and falls as he stands in front of her.

His attention seems completely focused on the apostle. But then, she hears him quietly ask, “You okay?”

Casca draws a deep breath, and her eyes widen as she refocuses. Then her forehead knits with frustration.

“Fine,” she says shortly, standing up and lifting her sword.

“Ah, the other one,” says the shadow-apostle. “How convenient.”

“Raksas!” shouts a voice. The apostle turns and Silat is standing behind him, catching his returning chakram. Four Tapas rock-men flank him, and more Bakiraka are pouring out of the buildings, wielding a huge variety of weapons.

“You were exiled,” says Silat coldly.[4]

The darkness shrugs.

“Still know how to find home.”

Silat narrows his eyes, then raises a clenched fist.

The Bakiraka attack.

“Guts! Casca!” calls Rickert’s voice. The apostle turns toward the sound as the assassin clan approaches him.

“Oooh, the third!”[5] Raksas crows, but sets of wind swords suddenly emerge from three directions, drawing his attention.

Casca grips Guts’ elbow and pulls him back. “Rickert might have important information,” she hisses under the noise. Then she turns and heads for where the boy’s voice came from, Guts on her heels, keeping himself between her and the fight.

They find Rickert standing on top of a house set a bit above the plaza, along with Schierke and Serpico. It’s a short climb up a ladder to join them.

“Raksas can hide in shadows,” hisses Rickert as Guts steps off the ladder. “And you never know where his head really is, except that it probably isn’t where his mask is. We almost got ‘im once when we set him on fire, but—”[6]

“That’ll never work in this fight,” says Guts. He looks at Schierke. “You up to tryin’ the armor again? That thing doesn’t seem like it’s gonna be beaten by normal fightin’.” He’s reaching for the buckle of his belt. “I can go under quick, and—”

Casca’s elbow hits his chin so hard, Guts almost falls over.

He gawks at her—then sees she’s crying.

“‘One more time,’” Casca hisses, ignoring the tears on her face. “We agreed.”

Guts looks grim. “An’ if it’s that or someone dies?”

She hesitates, looking down, half closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. Then she meets his gaze again. “Then you don’t break the agreement until the last possible moment,” she says. “Understood?”

Guts swallows hard, his hand clenching into a fist. But he nods.

Casca wipes her eyes as Schierke says, “I believe I can commune with a local spirit to mitigate this apostle’s powers.”

Guts nods. “Casca, you guard—”

“It’s after me along with you two,” Casca interrupts. “I’ll make Schierke a target if I’m with her.”

Casca looks at Guts, and grips her sword hilt tightly. “I’m in this fight, one way or another.”

Guts slowly tightens his jaw, then nods.

Rickert waves over some Bakiraka, who go to a house a level up with Schierke. Serpico stands near the door, discreetly guarding the entrance.

Rickert steps to the edge of the flat roof to stand by Guts and Casca, holding up a strange modified crossbow.

Guts grins as he pulls out his sword and prepares to jump down into the melee. Casca gives him a disgruntled look.

“Nah,” he says to her, “It’s just…” his smile is predatory. “We’re the survivors.”

Casca blinks. Then she smiles too.

“There you are!” says a voice from a shadow below them, and all three surviving Falcons spring into motion as the apostle rises from the darkness.

[1] a reference to the female Bakiraka from V11.

[2] The traditional reaction of a human to seeing an apostle, although it rarely appeared after the Golden Age.

[3] This entrance inspired by Raksas in V23 E195

[4] Raksas’ status as an exiled Bakiraka was established in V22 E184

[5] The idea is that Raksas was sent here by whoever sent him after Rickert in Falconia, but this time to get all 3 of them.

I strongly believe this was Griffith. Partly because passive Griffith is annoying, so I’m biased. But also Rickert is a genuine threat. Griffith sent a squad of apostles to kill Flora because she was, as Skull Knight put it in V28 E237, more of a threat than a whole army. She was outside the story and therefore able to act against it.

Rickert should not be like that. Rickert should be like Mule in V23 E195, unable to resist Griffith’s pull and the narrative around him.

But he’s not. In fact he actively refutes it, publicly.

Not only is this worrisome in terms of the 'story’s' integrity, it makes Rickert someone out of Griffith’s control. Griffith doesn’t like things out of his control. So wanting Rickert dead both out of control freaking and because he’s a potential problem makes sense.

My theory is that the reason Rickert was able to do this is that he knew Griffith before he was a God Hand. He was able to compare those memories to these and find a hole through which he could actually evaluate what was in front of him instead of being swept away.

There’s someone else who knew Griffith well back then and who is near him now…

[6] Rickert is talking about what happened in V38 E340-341

Chapter Text

It’s a mad fight full of near misses, retreats, and apparent entrapments followed by confusion, then more even-nearer misses.

Soon most of the Bakiraka, wounded or disarmed, retreat, leaving Silat and the Tapas facing the apostle. The fight dances over the plaza, Raksas leaping at impossible speeds from person to person, fighting all of them at once. It’s a challenge for him when Serpico and Silat begin working wind swords and wind spirits together, but even they only manage to damage his strange mask.

Then Schierke appears in a doorway. Her eyes are wide and blackened by spirit she has communed with.

“I am the Lord of the Shadows of the Mountain of El,” she intones in another being’s voice. “I grant the supplication of this small one,” her hands extend, palms up, “and deny to the demonic one passage through my form.” Her hands jerk upwards and press to her chest.

The effect is immediate. Raksas seems to shrink by at least a third, and an extension of his form which might be a hand or leg begins to tap at the ground incredulously.

“No fair,” he sighs.

“Oh well.” His marked and half-shattered mask revolves. “I enjoyed the visit, once-kin,” his mask pauses as he finds Casca, “but now I must be getting along with my task.”

He surges forward, towards the lone woman. Casca raises her sword and shifts her feet, preparing to slice and dodge.

Then Guts appears from her and hurtles forward, bending as he runs, and dives into Raksas’s fluid form. His sword drops to the ground as Raksas’ darkness knocks it from his hand, and he just has time to shout, “Get moving!” at Casca before—

Casca screams as the darkness devours him.

Inside Raksas, all is ever-moving blackness surrounding Guts. Except for the two blades he feels pierce upwards into his torso through the gap in his armor.

He grunts. He can hardly feel the pain…but he can feel the armor’s od starting to swell…

In front of his eye, he can just make out what looks like a face made from shadows.

“How noble,” Raksas croons. “How useless.”

“You lot,” Guts mutters, “just can’t resist the chance to gloat.”

“Well,” Raksas says, but that’s the moment Guts yanks the cord on his cannon arm, and Raksas’s true face explodes.

The force of the shot hurls Guts backwards out of the apostle, and his hand reaches out to snatch his sword and angle it to the ground to slow his momentum.[1]

Raksas is screaming, and Guts pulls himself up to start towards the apostle again—but Casca is gripping his arm, and she drags him back as Rickert, now standing on a roof above them, steps forward and hurls a jar filled with liquid towards Raksas.

As the glass shatters, its contents bursts into flames. A net—a smaller version of the one over the top of the village—is cast over Raksas to prevent him from flying away. Serpico whirls his feather sword and wind sprites appear and begin to circle around the fire, containing it. The Tapas take positions around the burning apostle, forcing him back when he tries to move nearer the houses.

“Noooo!” Raksas shrieks. “I want—I want his head! I need his face! I…”

The burning fabric of his body curls to the ground.

“I want to see through his face,” Raksas whimpers. “I…I want to see…”[2]

He stills.

A moment later, the body convulses as a horde of deformed spirits materialize from its folds, pulling, twisting, until the whole body collapses inward.

Leaving behind the corpse of a tall, burned man with a shattered face.[3]

---------

Charlotte sits alone in her garden as she sips her tea, gazing at her flowers. They bloom brilliantly here in Falconia, and all year round. Sometimes the youngest children from the schools visit to see her gardens, although she’s been told the older children are too busy for such frivolities.[4]

She wishes there were children here now…

“My child?”

Charlotte turns to see the Pope. He’s standing on the path behind her bench. She must have been too lost in thought to notice his footsteps.

Charlotte bows her head, starting to set her tea aside to stand. “Your holiness—”

“Now now, child, none of that,” he scolds her gently.

She blushes. “Is there anything I may do to—”

“Well,” says the Pope, “Perhaps there is.”

He settles himself on the bench beside her.

“I have noticed,” he says, gazing at the flowers before them, “that, as the day of your nuptials approaches—but a few weeks now[5]—you seem to be increasingly…troubled.”

Charlotte looks down at her teacup.

“Is everything all right, child?” the Pope’s voice is gentle.

Charlotte idly moves her hand, making the teacup slightly revolve in the saucer.

“I…I missed Lord Griffith so much. For so long.”

Charlotte closes her eyes. Remembers lying in her bed in a huddle, her gaze fixed longingly on her window. “He was all that I had, to cling to, to love, to…to feel as if I, Charlotte, truly existed.”

“And when he returned,” tears fill her eyes, “it was as if I had received such…grace, your holiness, such glorious mercy from the world. No, from the heavens, from God himself, who sent him…Lord Griffith, my angel, who could now even carry me through the air…”[6]

Her eyes crack open.

She bows her head, just a fraction, as tears begin to fall. They make tiny sounds as they land on the saucer in her lap.

“I never…I did not dare wonder, nor ask…”

A pause.

“Ask what, my child?” says the Pope softly.

Charlotte looks at him. Her eyes are wide.

He smiles kindly at her. “What is said here is between you and I and God, child. Have no fear.”

The teacup clinks on its saucer as Charlotte begins to shake, her shoulders bowing as the words begin to pour out.

“Lord Griffith, he…he was ruined, holiness![7] He was…what my…what the last king’s torturers did to him…To speak, to move his hands and feed, to ever again grip a sword:[8] Griffith should never again have been capable of such actions. And, even…” she hunches forward, eyes wide as tears fall onto her dress, “even his hair, holiness…his hair was all cut away in that darkness, it would have taken the passage of many more years than went by for it to grow back…”

Charlotte is gasping for breath, as if she had just run a great distance.

And, she thinks, for this she cannot dare say out loud even now, and his eyes…they are not the eyes of…

“God’s grace,” says the pope reassuringly, “can bring about many miracles. And Lord Griffith is more than graced by God, he is himself an incarnation—”

“Then, why—” Charlotte whispers.

The pope stops speaking. Charlotte flinches. “You are right, your holiness, of course—”

“Child,” his voice is tender, “These…doubts: I feel there is another weighing on your soul.”

Charlotte swallows. “I—I helped Lord Griffith escape that dungeon,[9]” she says softly. “There were four members of the old Band of the Falcon who came, risked all, to rescue him. And their kindness…” she smiles. She remembers the brusque considerateness of the man who’d carried her down the stairs when she was too frightened to walk but would not turn back. Remembers the kind look of the woman asking if she could go on, even though she, too, was clearly grief-stricken.

“Their devotion…it was beyond loyalty: it was love. And two of them, now are called traitors?” Charlotte shakes her head. “I…I cannot reconcile this to what I have seen with my own eyes.” She winces, and glances at a small nearby bridge. “Nor can I understand the actions of that young man who came here, who was once in the old Band of the Falcon[10]…what he said…did…felt…”

“I cannot banish my doubts!” Charlotte half-sobs. She turns her head to the pontiff. “Please, holiness, can you help me?”

He takes her hands. “Oh my poor child,” he says. “It is wretched indeed to learn that mankind can be so ungrateful and treacherous.” He squeezes her fingers gently, consolingly. “I am sure that, at the time, the traitors gave the appearance of virtue. An innocent creature like yourself could not be expected to…” he shakes his head.

“Though to learn the truth of the divine plan fills we pure souls with awe and joy, for some with impure souls, the same breeds resentment, jealousy—hate.”

He smiles at her. “I hope, dear child, that you never truly understand how evil ones such as they might hide behind a mask of goodness.”

Charlotte is gazing at him with eyes full of hope and trust. As he finishes, she bends, lowering her face to kiss his hands.

“Thank you, holiness,” she whimpers. “I…I have only to be ashamed of my own ignorance.”

[1] Guts’ tactic here of embracing injury and faking defeat is quite old school. He used it to get his cannon in range at least three times in the Black Swordsman days, once in the very first episode with the Snake apostle as well as in V14 E96 and V16 E113.

[2] Raksas is referring to what he first said to Griffith in V22 E184, “I’ll lop off your head and make it mine.” I tied that to the masks he wears and honed in on the face as the key reason he wants Griffith’s head, because I thought this was more interesting than just wanting to kill Griffith ‘cause he’s kind of insane.

[3] The resonance where Raksas is screaming about wanting to see through Griffith’s face, and the fact that when his body appears his own face has been blasted off—that was 100% totally deliberate from the beginning and not something I noticed after 2 rewrites and 5 re-reads.

[4] Charlotte is thinking of the orphanage and schools discussed in V41 E358.

[5] The idea here is that enough time has passed that an actual date for the wedding has been set.

[6] Charlotte’s memories here are either inspired by or actually from V27 E231 and E234-235.

[7] Charlotte is talking about what she saw in V10 E55-58.

[8] Paraphrased from Charlotte in V10 E58.

[9] V10 E50-58

[10] V38 E337

Chapter Text

Casca positively yanks the back plate of the armor off Guts’ body. He grunts in pain, and Puck gives Casca a sidelong look.

They’re in a small bedroom of the small house the Bakiraka gave the group to stay in, and Guts is lying on a carpet meant for sleeping, propped up by some thin cushions. Puck had stopped Guts’ bleeding earlier when they were still outside, but there’d been many others needing immediate attention for real healing before now.

Casca ignores the looks from both man and elf, dropping the back plate beside where she’d tossed the front plate, on the far side of the room. It makes a massive clang as Guts leans back and, a little gingerly, pulls up his shirt so Puck can see the wounds.

“It’s nothin,’ Cas,” Guts says quietly. She’s still standing across the room by the armor, and she doesn’t look at him.

“’Nothing’ that would’ve been fatal for at least two or three more minutes,” she snaps.

“Wow, yeah, looks like he got you right in the vitals!” says Puck, sounding impressed.

Guts glares at the elf, who coughs awkwardly. “But this ain’t nothin’, really,” he chirrups brightly, hovering up and beginning to shower his dust on Guts. “I mean, this barely even registers on the scale of post-apostle fightin’ damage! Remember that time you were so beat up you couldn’ even lift your sword and ya collapsed in the woods after a fight, an’ I had to save ya from the hordes of evil spirits?[1]”

Puck looks up and meets a deeply exasperated expression on Guts’ face.

The elf coughs again, his eyes now flitting from Guts to Casca. She’s standing stock-straight with her fists clenched, not looking at them.

“And, uh, yeah, you didn’ even use the armor this time!” Puck perks up as he says this, desperation growing in his eyes. “Can’t remember the last time ya defeated a baddie without going all[2]…um…anyway…” his expression is panicky. “Yeah, this was just like old times…’cept nothin’ got mangled or shattered or…”

There’s dead silence as his voice trails off.

“Right,” the elf flutters down and pokes his toes into the new skin covering Guts’ wounds. Guts grunts in pain, which Puck ignores. “Looks good as new, bye now!”

The elf zooms out through the curtained door so fast, there’s a faint popping sound as he leaves.

Guts shifts back to prop himself against the wall, then looks at his wife.

She doesn’t speak.

“Well?” he finally asks.

Casca’s fists are still clenched, and she’s glaring down at her left shoulder. They can faintly hear the others talking through the thick curtains of the door.

Guts sighs. “Jus’ say it, woman, eatin’ it won’—”

“Is it a game?” she snarls.

Guts blinks. “What?”

“Is it all a game to you? Or some…market bargain? A pound of flesh for a dead demon, a good trading day?”

Guts frowns. “If you’re askin’ whether it’s worth losin’ a bit of blood to win, then—”

“This,” Casca finally looks at him, and gestures at his body and its scars, “is not what happens when you’re just ‘losin’ a bit of blood.’ ”

Guts shrugs.

“And that’s,” Casca goes on, eyes wide and furious, “how you ended up needing this monstrosity,” the armor rings as she kicks it, “to fight at all.”

“An’ here we all are,” Guts snaps.

“Not all of us,” Casca snaps back.

Her eyes widen at her own words, and Guts flinches. But he keeps going. “More’n there’d be if I hadn’ used that armor, kept usin’ it, an’ more’n there’d be if…It’s how I work in a fight, Cas. It’s all on the line, everythin’ is in the battle, an’ I win or I die. You should know better’n anyone, that’s how it’s always been, I…”

Guts pauses, his gaze growing distant. He breathes out.

Casca opens her mouth to speak, but then Guts says quietly. “No. It’s…it’s been more complicated ‘n that for a while, now.”

He leans his head back against the wall. “After I found you again, I…I had to fight, and remember I must not die while I was fightin’. Remember that if I did, you’d…” he flinches. “It was the hardest thing I…I couldn’t do it, Cas. I couldn’t cope.”[3]

“I,” Casca starts, voice trembling slightly, “wasn’t there for you—”

But Guts shakes head. “That was…hard, but—no one was there. That was…I’d been alone for a long time, but…that wouldn’ do it anymore.”

“An’ then, when it wasn’t just me, I…I had to learn to depend on others to watch my back. An’ do,” he smiles at her sadly, “What I couldn’. ‘Cause I was the only one who could fight the biggest fights. But after that, I had to…had to trust ‘em to help me get up on my feet an’ stay up, be ready for the next fight, ‘cause…”

“Cas, runnin’ away, holdin’ back to keep from getting’ too hurt—it ain’t possible with these fights. ‘Cause if I do that, everybody dies.”

“Casca, I…I don’t know how to give you what you seem to be askin’ for.”

Casca watches him as he lowers his head, defeated.

She feels tears on her cheeks, her fists still clenched and shaking at her sides.

Slowly, she steps around Guts’ legs, then leans her back on the wall to his left.

She slides down to sit next to him, her shoulder touching his arm.

“You’re right.”

Guts’ brow furrows in surprise, and he looks at her. Her eyes are wide, staring into space.

“What am I asking you for, anyway? You already didn’t use the armor for me. And from what Puck said,” her eyes close in pain, “You did get less injured this time than you have before. So…” she lowers her head, “what, do I want you to not fight how you can win?” She laughs hollowly. “As if that were even an option…”

“I’m being selfish. Because….” Casca lets out a shuddering breath, “seeing you get hurt like that,” she hunches down, “I…it hurts so badly, and I can’t…”

“Hey,” says Guts softly, raising his arm around her shoulders. She curls against him, starting to shake with sobs. “Cas—”

“I’m scared,” she gasps, her eyes wide against his chest. “I’m terrified I’m going to watch you die, Guts, and I won’t be able to…And I’m so useless, I can’t even watch your back against this kind of…”

“Casca, look, protectin’ you—”

She shakes her head. “Exactly, you’re protecting me, but I…I wanted us to be bound together, and then I’d be with you through it all, but when you’re fighting, you’re…it’s like you’re right there, but so distant I can’t reach you…”

Guts has a sudden, vivid memory. Casca trailing behind him on the end of a rope, wearing his cloak, and glaring at him through the rain…[4]

“And I,” she’s saying, “I hate it, I’m so…so helpless, all I can do is…is stay out of the way, when you…”

He remembers Casca lying on the ground on the island, screaming, staring at him, and knowing he had to leave her like that…[5]

He tightens his iron grip around her. Feels her hair on his bare neck. No, she’s right here, with me! But…but she feels like…how…

“All I can do is patch you up after,” she’s mumbling, and he sees her nails are digging deep into her palms where her hands rest in her lap. “I’m so useless…”

“All I did was hack at foes,[6]” he remembers saying…

Guts shakes his head. No, for her, that’s not…

“I’m just—” Casca mutters…

“The reason I’m there to get patched up at all.”

She freezes. He reaches out and wraps his right hand over her fingers, stopping them from pressing harder against her own skin.

“The reason I don’ fight without worryin’ about dyin’ anymore. The reason I can still take that armor off at all. Cas…protectin’ you, makin’ sure you—”

“That why,” she interrupts, “I…I owe you so much—”

“No,” Guts says firmly.

Casca blinks and turns to look up at him, tears staining her cheeks. He looks back at her without wavering.

“Makin’ sure you keep livin,” he says, “it’s more important than anythin’ to me. Because you, just…” he brushes her face with his fingertips, “just bein’, Cas—that, that’s the most important thing to me. Everythin’ else is…just else.”

Casca lays her hand over his, brings his palm to her face.

“For me, too,” she says softly.

Guts’ eye widens.

“S…so,” Casca takes a deep breath, “I know…know you have to do this. So, just…”

She lowers her forehead to his chest. “Just live, Guts, please! That’s…” she chokes on a sob, “that’s more important than anything you can do for me, to me. Protecting me, that’s…you’re so much more to me than that, so just…please, whatever else…I’ll be here, right here, and we’ll figure it out as long as you…please, Guts, just live, please, please…”

Guts pulls her close, burying his face in her hair as she begins to cry again, still begging him over and over…

“Okay,” he whispers in her ear, holding her tight.

“I will.”[7]

[1] V16 E118

[2] Last time Guts didn’t use the armor at all was V26 when he fought Slan.

[3] Guts is remembering (and quoting) V23 E188-189

[4] This memory is from V23 E189

[5] V41 E359

[6] Guts says this in V38 E342

[7] In this scene, Casca takes a trip through her own flawed reactions to hurt. She attacks Guts first, which is what she’s always done. Then she actually faces her own feelings and looks seriously at what she’s doing and saying. Then she starts to feel self-hatred. This is all paralleling her emotional journey in V9 E45. She can’t externalize the pain, so she internalizes it, and she uses aggression and violence to deal with it. All of this comes from the seed of Casca’s feelings and reaction to watching Guts fight Wyald in V11.   

But Casca’s grown a lot, and so has Guts. Guts is able to empathize with her and make a connection between how she feels now and how he felt in V23 and V41. That allows him to intervene in the self-hatred spiral, and lets them both figure out what’s really important when all is said and done.

It’s not perfect, but it’s theirs. 

Chapter Text

Charlotte leans against the wall to look out her chamber window at the branches of the World Spiral Tree. She gazes at that wonder, and at the beautiful city below it, the great metropolis of the Falcon. And she tries to be happy.

“My Lord!” she hears Anna squeak.

Charlotte turns. Griffith, in all his finery, has entered her chamber.

She blinks in surprise—usually he is more discreet than this. And tonight, I am not entirely certain that I want…oh, no matter!

“My Lord,” she says in greeting, curtseying in her nightrobe and smiling courteously. She tries to remain calm, but…as always when she looks at him, when he is so near, her face reddens, her heartbeat starts racing.

“I did not expect you tonight,” her voice is already breathless. She swallows hard, and her eyes move to her maid. “Thank you, Anna.”[1]

Anna scurries out of the room with a grateful air. Charlotte’s gaze falls on Griffith’s—and is held.

“I was not expe…oh! I’ve said that,” Charlotte says, blushing, smiling awkwardly. “Would you like some tea? I could—”

“Thank you, no,” says Griffith, scrupulously polite as usual.

“Then…” Charlotte glances hesitantly at the bed. But he has no reaction.

“The pontiff,” he says, his voice as gentle, graceful, and plain as ever, “is concerned for you, Princess Charlotte.”

Charlotte freezes. Her heart quickens wildly. “I…but…”

Griffith’s face is soft, and unmoving. “I am his god, Princess Charlotte,” he says quietly.

“I’m…” she stammers, “I am…I am…I am so sorry Lord Griffith!” her eyes are full of tears. “I did not mean to—”

“Princess Charlotte,” he says kindly, “there is no cause for fear. I am not angry with you. Although,” he sighs, “I confess I am a bit disappointed. I had thought I offered you the fulfillment of all your dreams.”

“You have!” she cries, stepping towards him, her face uplifted. “I have only…” she shakes her head, “I am still just an ignorant girl, really, I am sure I will soon—”

“Doubt,” interrupts Griffith calmly, “is the killer of dreams.”

“No!” Charlotte cries, pressing herself against him. “No, this, this is not a dream! I awoke that night, when you rescued me,[2] I…”

Her voice trails off weakly. She presses her body closer to him, arms tucked in front of her.

He does not reach out to hold her.

Still, she leans against him and closes her eyes.

“This is all I want,” she murmurs contentedly.

Griffith reaches up and gently lifts her chin with a single finger, so she is gazing at him. “You are a guileless creature,” he says. “And you have already spoken of this to one person. Doubt, if it takes root, will spread like a disease.”

Charlotte lets out a sob. Griffith smiles kindly. “Do you think you will love me less, Princess, or that I shall leave you, after you learn the answers to your questions?”

Charlotte shakes her head back and forth like a crazed child.

He laughs. “Then speak.”

She gazes at him adoring, eyes drinking him in.

Then she whispers, “Lord Griffith, how were you restored?”

He gives her a gentle smile.

Then he tells her.

-----------

Charlotte stares at Griffith, her mouth hanging open.

She’s stepped back a little from him as he spoke, to see him more clearly. Throughout his narration, his expression has not flickered or wavered. It is still that strange, pure calm.

“The Falcons…,” she whispers, “They loved you.”

“They were,” he counters lightly, “willing to die for me. And they did.”

“But…” she’s trembling slightly, pulling her robe closer around her. “You…you don’t feel…?[3]”

Her voice trails off. The answer is clear.

She licks her lips and manages to whisper, “But…the people in the Tower…”

Griffith gives her a pitying look.

“I,” she murmurs, “I suppose they would have most likely died anyway….But…” she swallows, “so many…children…”

Griffith’s expression does not change at all.

Charlotte gazes at him as if trapped, hears her heart beating, so loud…

Am I being tested? She realizes it in a flash. My love for Lord Griffith, it is being tested!

Charlotte squares her shoulders, eyes on Griffith’s. I will not falter!

“The two traitors whom you and the war demons have hunted,” she says, voice only a little unsteady now, “is this ‘sacrifice’ why they turned against you?”

Griffith’s head tilts slightly. “It is a part—they wear the brand of sacrifice even now. But I believe the larger reason is that I raped the woman, while the apostles held the man down and forced him to watch.”

Charlotte’s knees buckle and hit the floor, hard. She doesn’t seem to notice, her eyes on Griffith’s still-unchanged face.

“You…what?”

He does not repeat himself. His face is as still and neutral as a marble statue.

“W…” Charlotte remembers the woman’s kind look when she’d agreed to take Charlotte along.[4] Remembers the man grinning and speaking to one of the other Falcons.[5] Remembers the two of them, the woman gently wiping blood from the man’s face, as they gazed at each other…[6]

“W…Why?” she gasps. Her breaths are shallow, her heartbeat wild.

“Because I wished to,” Griffith says. “And because I could.”

Charlotte feels sick, gazing at his expressionless face with abject horror, tears falling unheeded down her cheeks.

“They…How could you…” She swallows, “They loved you—”

“And I once loved them as well,” says Griffith. “But that was before. Such things cannot shake or touch my heart now.[7]”

Charlotte’s mouth opens, closes, opens again.

“But…you love me,” she whispers, almost pleading.

Griffith sighs, and lowers himself to his knees before her, his white cloak fanning out behind him as it always does.

“This is not the fairy tale,” he says, “in which the maiden disobeys the prince and pays the price, but she remains steadfast and she wins him back. This is a different story altogether. One in which, if not the awe of love, it is yours to accept the awe of fear. And so, I must take away all of your dreams, princess, that you may no longer doubt.”[8]

“I do not love you.”

“I did not ever love you. Oh, I felt some fondness for you once,” he smiles slightly, the expression not reaching his eyes. “Your affection for me after my rescue[9] was quite touching.” His face returns to that calm neutrality, so smoothly, so quickly, a new sliver of fear strikes into Charlotte’s heart even through her horror.

“But,” he continues, “you were always a means to my ends. A naïve, sheltered girl who was easy to manipulate into falling in love with me. The perfect shortcut to my true goal: this kingdom.”

Charlotte gazes at him, her mouth wide, tears still flowing. Words somehow escape her, though she knows not from where: “But…when we met I was engaged…and my family…”

“Presented an obstacle,” he responds. “But hardly an insurmountable one. Your uncle and cousin were easy to dispose of, and your stepmother only slightly more difficult. Your father’s death, I planned for some months after your stepmother’s, to allay suspicion.[10]”

“But…” Charlotte whispers somehow, “you…you came to me, to make love to me, even though…”

“Ah, Charlotte,” he says a touch ruefully, as if presented with a dog who has once again failed to heed instructions, “still so innocent. I desired power over you that night, and I learned I had all the power I wanted. For which I am grateful,” he says, his fingers gently brushing her frozen face. “Power was what I most desired. And you gave it to me with only a little protest. And then, I was able to use your submission to gain power over your father, too.”

Charlotte feels entirely trapped by his eyes, by those strange slit pupils…

“To plant in his head—or unearth—the notion that he desired his daughter.[11] Tell me Charlotte: did he rape you in the end?”

Silence falls, until Charlotte finally chokes out, “T…tried…”[12]

“Ah. So you have never been raped.” Griffith says, his voice utterly toneless.

Can’t…breathe…

“Who—w…what are you?” Charlotte gasps.

He smiles at her, ever so gentle as always.

“Myself.”

She stares at him, breathing in shallow gasps.

“And so we come to the end of your questions,” he says. “You said that you would not love me less. And you were correct, for how can you love less a beam of light?”

He straightens. “But you can fear the darkness, can you not?”

Charlotte bends over, clutching her chest, her eyes wide.

“Should you spread the doubts which brought you to this state farther,” he says, “all those you speak to will be killed.”

She sees the hem of his cloak flash in the corner of her eye as he turns away from her.

“Anna,” he calls, opening the door, “Your mistress is ill.”

Charlotte feels herself shaking uncontrollably with fear. As she closes her eyes, she starts to whimper, “Gri—”

Then she stops.

Anna is heaving her up, supporting her and moving her towards the bed.

Whenever I have been afraid…for so long…I

Anna lays her on the mattress. I always…long for Griffith

And now… she curls on her side, all of my fears…all were…born from…

Charlotte sobs, brokenhearted.[13]

---------

[1] The opening of this scene recalls V9 E37, V27 E231, and V27 E234-235.

[2] V27 E234

[3] “you don’t feel,” is a reference to Guts’ line in V22 E178

[4] V10 E51

[5] V10 E50

[6] V10 E56

[7] V22 E178

[8] Reference to Griffith speaking to Charlotte in V27 E235

Griffith is also summarizing the plot of the myth Cupid and Psyche, a version of which has been turned into several fairy tales.

Sidebar: Charlotte is in fact still in situation akin to a fairy tale. That tale is commonly known as Bluebeard. Poor kid.

[9] V10 E57

[10] Griffith is referring to events of V6 E10-12 (including his reaction to finding out Adonis also died) and V8 E31-32

[11] In this paragraph Griffith is referencing the events of V9 E37-38 and 39.

[12] Charlotte refers to the events of V9 E40

[13] This scene is, indeed, a bit much. But I stand by it.

There’s a neat precedent as well in V41 E358. Griffith there goes from mellow and just sort of walking through the world and letting it unfold around him like a flower, to a long monologue in which he outlines how to indoctrinate children and built a militarized society to support and empire, all ruled by a god-king. So a sharp turn is not out of the question.

It also fits into Griffith’s character. Charlotte is edging out of his control. This puts her firmly back into it.

There’s also the idea of her spreading her doubt. That theory of mine that knowing Griffith well in the past is what allows resistance in the present? She could spread that resistance by telling people.

And finally I just don’t care.

I could have drawn this out, I could have made him walk into this slowly, etc. But I didn’t want to. There’s enough of that in Millennium Falcon. I have no patience with the Falcon of Light, he’s dull, and the lack of a turn towards evil and total lack of awareness of everyone around him is frustrating and, for a reader, a punishment. He’s had everyone taken in for decades of real time and about half the series of Berserk as written. Enough’s enough.

There’s also a technical aspect to this choice to not dwell on Griffith, and to do rather little with him in general. Griffith can be compelling in Millennium Falcon because he’s beautiful, and everything around him is gorgeous, and it’s all amazing and fantabulous. But that’s manga—my medium is significantly more restricted. Reincarnated Griffith’s level of compellingness even in the manga depends a lot on what the reader is projecting on that almost-completely-expressionless face. We bring our own shit to that, just like the people in the manga itself. Reincarnated Griffith in a text form doesn’t even have that, so I just didn’t use him directly much. Although if you are a Griffith fan, I will note that there is a lot of Griffith stuff coming, but the focus is more toward other people than he himself.

Chapter Text

The Bakiraka houses don’t have windows to let in sunlight, so Guts and Casca sleep until Puck wakes them.

“Oi, you’re gonna miss breakfast!” the elf shouts tinnily, then zips right back out of the curtain, dodging the pillow Guts throws at him.

Guts mutters a halfhearted oath, then sighs and reluctantly pulls away from Casca’s warmth.

But as he sits up, her hand is suddenly on his right cheek. He turns just in time to see her eyes, heavy with feeling, before she draws him into a tender kiss.

And then she pokes his gut where he was wounded the previous night.

“Hey!”

Casca nods. “Much better shape.”

“You’re one hell of a nurse.”

“Oh hush.”

They dress and enter the main room, where Serpico is seasoning a small and unrecognizable roasted animal. “They assure me it is safe to eat,” he says, dividing the meat onto plates as they sit on the carpets.

Puck makes a face at the food and flies to the bags they brought from Elfhelm.

A moment later, he emerges, apoplectic with rage. “Wha—where’s my food?!” he shrieks.

“The villagers have been forced to subsist on whatever they could find for many months,” says Serpico mildly, handing out plates to Guts and Casca. “I judged their need for the nutritious food of Elfhelm to be greater than ours.”

“Why—you monstrous, cruel, power-mad—”

Guts snatches Puck out of the air and drops him on the ground in front of a plate.

“Eat or starve, bug,” he says coolly.

Puck mutters rebelliously, but digs into the food.

“Good call, Serpico,” says Guts. Casca nods in agreement, tearing her meat chunk in half and moving part to Guts’ plate. He blinks, and opens his mouth to argue.

“You lost blood yesterday,” Casca snaps at him. “Eat.”

Guts hesitates, and she rolls her eyes, grabs the chunk, and shoves it right into his mouth.

Puck turns red, and Serpico awkwardly stares at his food.

Casca turns to look at him as Guts starts to chew awkwardly, his expression torn between irritation and confusion.

“Where’s Schierke?” she asks.

“I do not believe,” says Serpico delicately, eyes still lowered, “that she slept here last night. I saw her engaged in discussion with the old Kushan sorcerer again, after the fight was concluded.”

Guts swallows the last of the mystery meat and stands. “I’m gonna check on her.” He glances down at Casca. “If that’s all right with you?” he says drily.

Casca glares at him, then grabs the other piece of his meat and tosses it at him. He catches it neatly.

“I’m not your keeper,” she snaps, biting into her own breakfast.

Guts snorts. “Coulda fooled me.”

“What was that?” Casca’s eyes are dangerous. But Guts is already headed for their room. He emerges a few minutes later, wearing the armor and eating the last of his breakfast.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says. As he walks past Casca, he pauses. Her hand has caught his out of the air.

She doesn’t look at him. But her hand squeezes gently, then releases.

Guts smiles slightly, and heads for the door. Puck flits up and lands on his shoulder. “Maybe Schierke didn’t carelessly discarded her provisions,” the elf says, glaring at Serpico.

The room is quiet after they leave.

Finally, Casca asks, “How are you doing, Serpico?”

He looks at her for a long moment, his expression blankly neutral. Then he smiles faintly. “I am quite all right, Miss Casca.”

Casca sighs. “Farnesse was like a sister to me,” she says. “That’d make you and me brother and sister. So don’t call me ‘miss.’”

Serpico rises and begins to gather the empty plates. “I was never a true brother to Lady Farnesse,” he says. “And thus, your analogy is inappropriate.”

“Serpico…”

“Excuse me,” he says, starting for the door.

Casca reaches up and catches his elbow in a tight grip. “Believe me when I tell you,” her voice is thick with grief, “it’s…meant to hurt…”

Serpico hesitates, his eyes averted.

“But,” she says, “You don’t have to be alone—”

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Casca,” says Serpico, pulling his arm away. “I assure you, it is not necessary.”

He steps through the doorway to the edge of the small balcony in front of the house. Rather than descending the ladder to a lower level, he leaps lightly into the air, letting the wind spirits carry him downwards. He’s heading for the small reservoir fed by a spring at the side of the plaza, where others are cleaning their own breakfast dishes.

I am but half a tree now. Hewn apart and suspended in air, on the brink of toppling now that my remainder is gone.[1]

His feet land on the edge of another balcony, and he leaps again.

I know now, why they chose me,[2] Serpico thinks as he looks at the wind spirits whirling around him. They knew what I did not: That my ties to the earth came from others weighing themselves upon me. That I, myself…

His eyes become sharp slits.

As I am to fall, he thinks, imagining his half of the tree he had become with Farnesse, then I shall at the least decide myself where I shall fall.

And he imagines a white helmet, formed like the face of a bird of prey.

---------

Guts finds Schierke picking at her own breakfast, her eyes shadowed, but still deep in her conversation with Daiba. Puck makes for her food and Ivarela comes shrieking out in defense, and the two elves tumble away.

“Hey,” says Guts, folding his arms and glaring at Daiba, “I know the old don’ need much sleep, but our witch’s still young and needs to rest.”

Schierke smiles at Guts and waves her hand. “I shall sleep soon,” she says. “Our conversation has reached its conclusion.”

“We believe we can now create a magical weapon capable of disrupting the connection between the Falcon and his vessel,” says Daiba, “if that interests you?”

Guts rolls his eye at the last words, but grins. “Good news.”

Schierke smiles at him, but the expression is brittle. “The challenge,” she says, “is to have any real influence on the Falcon. His spiritual energy is quite monstrously large, entirely subsuming the vessel’s self to the point that the vessel—the boy—cannot be perceived at all when the Falcon is dominant.”

“We thus require a means of levering the two apart. More than one, in fact, to both separate and draw the two apart enough so that the Falcon will be unable to maintain his physicality.”

Schierke looks Guts square in the eye. “We need your Behelit.”

He blinks. “Huh?”

“The Behelit,” she explains, “is a fetish[3] to connect a being in our physical world to spiritual beings in the astral world. Thus, it is uniquely suited to…drawing out a connection like the one between the Falcon and its vessel. A God Hand will respond to a Behelit’s presence, on an involuntary, spiritual level.”

“Daiba and I believe we have determined a means to imbue a sword, which we will join to the Behelit, with spells that will strengthen and direct the fetish’s energies to resonate with, find, and pierce that link between astral and physical bodies within the Falcon. The God Hand is tightly compressed into its physical form, in a metaphysical sense, and thus a single fissure, if deep enough, should create an opening in which it and the vessel can be drawn apart.”

“So,” says Guts, “poke a hole in Griffith through his link to the kid, and make the hole big enough to pull ‘em apart?”

 Schierke winces, but nods. “Essentially, yes,”

Daiba leans forward. “The next part is simpler. Schierke claims that you can easily obtain the true name of the vessel?” Schierke smiles as Daiba shrugs. “Someone across the room should call the name of the vessel at the same moment the Behelit is used to pierce the Falcon’s form. The sword should then ‘pin’ him in place. The vessel will be made to take its true form and drawn towards the sound of its true name, like all spiritual beings,[4] thus cleaving the two apart.”

“There will likely,” says Schierke, “still be some sort of a connection between the vessel and the Falcon at that point. But it will be pulled taut, and your sword should will be able to sever it.”[5]

Guts frowns. “And Griffith?”

“The spiritual backlash of the severance will be catastrophic,” says Daiba with satisfaction. “And being a purely spiritual entity, it shall be drawn to rebound upon the Falcon, likely destroying him.”

Guts clearly doesn’t buy the last part, but nods at the rest. “Will the Behelit still be usable, after?”

“Probably,” says Schierke as Daiba says, “How should we know?”

Guts looks back and forth between them.

He remembers the boy looking up at him, standing by the dark sea.[6]

He reaches into his punch and withdraws the Behelit.

“What do you think you’re doin’!” howls Puck, swopping in furiously and snatching at Guts’ hand. “That’s my Betchi, an’—”

Guts shifts the Behelit to his iron hand and neatly snags Puck out of the air.

“Haven’ been payin’ attention, have you?” Guts says drily. “It’s how we’re savin’ the kid.”

Puck gawks at him, mouth opening then closing.

Then he finally mutters, “You…gonna hurt Betchi?”

“Puck,” says Guts, his patience clearly thinning, “it’s a rock with a link to hell, not a pet.”

Puck straightens his back, mouth wide with indignation…then he wilts.

He begins to sniffle, then sob. He wriggles free of Guts and snatches up the Behelit almost too fast to see. Before Guts can get him, the elf is moving—but he’s going toward the sorcerer and the witch, carrying the Behelit.

“You better…oh…!” he cries, depositing the Behelit in Schierke’s outstretched hand.

“Moron,” mutters Ivarela.

Schierke pokes the female elf, then smiles at Puck, who is now sobbing hysterically.

“Thank you, Puck,” she says. But her eyes stray towards Guts, and reveal a mixture of happiness and trepidation.

Guts closes his eye and bows his head.

[1] Serpico is thinking of the image from V22 E186

[2] Serpico reflected on how confusing he found this in V24 E206

[3] This word, and much of what Schierke says here, comes from V24 E202

[4] V36 E324

[5] The ability of Guts’ sword to do that kind of thing was highlighted in V24 E203 and V26 E221

[6] V28 E238

Chapter Text

By the afternoon, Guts has herded Schierke to the group’s rooms to rest. Serpico has gone to sit on a column of stone at the top of the village, above the mouth of the mountain.[1] Cross-legged, he is utterly still, watching strange, distant beasts appear among the mountains, allowing bugs and tiny spirits to flicker about him.

As the sun moves past midday, Erica leads Casca and Guts across the village plaza, trough the same arch that Rickert had come from the previous night. The passage is small enough that Guts has to duck to enter, and he doubts that the Tapasa can get through it at all.

“We gotta keep the forges deep underground,” explains Erica as the tunnel narrows even further, “and pipe up the smoke a ways away through another chimney, so no one can use that to find us. Makes the hall there a bit hot, though,” the girl adds belatedly as each of those following her gasps at a wave of heat. Puck throws open Guts’ pouch and exhales hugely, then begins to loudly complain to the world in general as he sprawls against Guts’ gunpowder sacks.

When they reach the tunnel’s end, they find a long, low room with a forge on the far side. Rickert is sitting in front of it, stripped to the waist and fiddling with a piece of metal.[2] He jumps a bit when Erica comes up behind him and taps on his shoulder.

“Brought you water!” the girl says brightly, holding out a waterskin. “Need any help?”

Rickert grins at her. “Thanks, Erica,” he says, putting the metal in the fire then turning away from the forge to take the skin from her. “The fire’s actually getting a bit low—I could use a hand at the bellows.”

Erica beams as he sits on a stool and takes a swig of water, then she hurries to the bellows machine[3] by the forge. Casca smiles at Rickert, then crosses to the far side of the room to look at some half-finished weapons, giving Guts a pointed look as she passes him.

He blinks, then figures it out. I haven’t talked with Rickert at all since we got here, have I?

Puck is now flying to Rickert’s shoulder, where he lands neatly—producing a small flinch from the young man.

Puck scowls at him. “Still?”[4]

Rickert, with obvious effort, relaxes. “Old fears,” he says quietly. Then he grins. “But it’s good to see you again, Puck.”

Puck snorts, but looks pleased. Then he flies over to Erica, who beams at him without pausing in her energetic bellows-pumping.

Guts raises his eyebrows at them, then wipes his forehead and turns back towards Rickert. Sweat is pouring down his face, this close to the fire. He reaches for the straps of his sword.

“Hear you’re makin’ the metal part of this Behelit weapon,” he says to Rickert as he leans his massive blade against the wall.

Rickert nods, swigging again from the waterskin. “It’s been a while since I made a sword. The Bakiraka don’t have much need for them.” His eyes fall on the steel in the forge. “But it’s good to…”[5]

His voice trails off.

Then he shakes himself a little. His eyes fall on Guts’ sword, and he nods at it. “Mind if I take a look?”

Guts shrugs and picks up the blade. Casca looks over her shoulder, but keeps her distance as Guts holds the weapon out over Rickert’s legs.[6]

Rickert sets down the waterskin by his feet, eyes intent now on the blade. He taps its edge. “You haven’t been cleaning it properly.”

Guts shrugs his left shoulder, clearly unrepentant.

“But, well…” Rickert gives him a sidelong look, “Last time you rolled up out of the blue…all things considered, it’s in good shape.” He traces the bottom edge. “A few nicks. And there’s the start of a crack here.” He sits back. “But it’s nothing that needs immediate fixing, and I don’t have a forge here big enough anyway.”

Rickert retrieves the waterskin Guts lifts the sword upwards, back towards him. He looks at the weapon with a strangely distant expression for a moment. Then he turns to prop it against the wall again.

Puck is now lying, apparently asleep, draped over Erica’s shoulder. Casca is squatting to examine a half-finished wind sword. Guts leans against the wall by his own sword and nods at Erica. “She’s done well here,” he says quietly to Rickert.

Rickert glances at her. Casca is just moving over to stand next to her. Something the older woman says makes the girl laugh.

“Yeah,” says Rickert, smiling. “She…seems to like the idea of assassinating people someday.”

Guts snorts. Rickert grins and shrugs.

Guts crosses his arms. “Learnin’ how to look out for herself—that’ll do her well.”

Rickert nods. “This is…it’s hard, out here, but I’m glad I didn’t leave her behind.”[7]

Guts grunts. “Where’d you be able to leave her that’s safe, nowadays?”

Rickert looks down, his elbows propped on his knees as he bends slightly.

“Falconia.”

The room seems to grow quiet for a moment. Then Erica—who must have been eavesdropping—sniffs loudly. “Like I’d have let ya!”

Rickert gives her an awkward smile. But tension still fills the room. Puck perks his head up, and the rhythm of the bellows slows.

“So, you did go,” says Guts quietly.

Rickert looks down at his clasped hands again.

“Yeah, I did. We didn’t have much choice,[8] really, and I didn’t…anyway, we went there.”

“He did say,” says Guts, with not-quite-dangerous calm, “he’d have no cause to turn you away.” [9]

“Rickert studies his knuckles. “Yes, well—I had plenty of cause to refuse him.”

No one speaks for a beat.

Then Puck leaps into the air.

“Atta boy!” he says, flitting over to hover in front of Rickert, beaming. “As if he could seduce you with his perfect city fulla food an’ comfort!” The elf strikes a combat pose. “You give ‘im the old one-two from me?” He mimes shadowboxing against the air.

“Well,” says Rickert, smiling shyly, “I did slap him.”[10]

Puck freezes in mid-punch. He, Guts, and Casca stare at Rickert as Erica beams.

Then Guts laughs, really laughs, leaning forward as he does. “He must’ve been surprised ‘bout that!”

Rickert smiles faintly. “Yeah, I think he was. But…” the young man shakes his head. “I couldn’t…no, I wouldn’t stay there, not in a place founded on…”[11] His eyes close, and he shakes his head again wordlessly.

“Rickert,” says Casca quietly. She’s standing against the wall, across from Guts, but still near Erica (who is halfheartedly pumping away at the bellows).

Rickert turns to look at Casca, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

Casca gives him a look full of feeling—and of a warrior’s respect.

“I’m very proud of you,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

Rickert smiles at her, his eyes filling with tears.

He turns away, wiping his face discreetly.

Then he looks over at Guts again.

“You’ll be the one who…” Rickert gestures at the half-made sword in the forge. Guts nods.

Rickert glances at Casca, but her eyes are on Guts. She doesn’t seem to notice him at all. He takes a deep breath.

“Guts…” Rickert says slowly. “ Listen: Griffith lives in a city with the highest walls in the world, in the biggest castle that’s probably ever existed. He has thousands of guards, including maybe hundreds of apostles, and they all…they worship him, he’s a divine king[12] to them. The Bakiraka—they’ve been working as assassins for three hundred years. They train their entire lives to kill a single target—like Griffith.”

“I know you…” Rickert sighs, runs his hand through his sweaty hair. “It’s wrong,” he says quietly, “What Griffith did to the Band, to the world. And he deserves…but, look…”

Rickert’s eyes move to Guts’ face.

Then his back straightens, his chin coming up, expression growing determined.

“Guts, I told you then not to live for dead people, to stay with Casca.[13] And now…I really think you should…”

As Rickert’s been speaking, Guts’ eye hasn’t moved from Casca. His face is sad and open.

Casca glances at Rickert, then takes a deep breath.

She nods at Guts.

“Rickert,” says Guts quietly, interrupting the younger man, “this ain’t about getting’ revenge for the dead. Or even the livin’.”

Rickert freezes, midsentence, his mouth hanging open. Then his face creases in confusion. “Wha—”

“This’s about that vessel,” says Guts. “We need that,” he nods at the forge, “to tear him apart from Griffith.”

Rickert’s forehead furrows. “But why—”

“Because he’s our son.”

Rickert’s face slackens in shock. Erica stops pumping the bellows, her jaw dropping.

Puck hesitates a moment, then flies over to Casca’s shoulder and sits down. She gives the elf a small smile.

“T—the vessel is your son?” Rickert repeats.

Guts gives a tiny nod, eyes full of hardened sorrow.

Rickert looks down.

“But…” he slowly shakes his head, “but—Griffith, didn’t he reincarnate in the vessel right around when you visited us, Guts? And Casca was with us before…how could you have…”

“Our son,” says Casca quietly, her head turned away from Puck, from them all, her arms crossed, “was conceived before the Eclipse, Rickert.”

“And he…” she’s almost whispering, “he died, at the Eclipse, inside me.”

There’s silence for a moment.

Then the bellows whoosh as Erica abandons them to hurl herself against Casca.

Casca looks down at the girl for an instant, hesitating. Then she takes a deep breath and wraps her arms around Erica, hugging her back.

Her chin rises, and she meets Rickert’s eyes.

“He…our son didn’t survive,” Casca says, painfully, “What Griffith did to me.”

Rickert’s staring at her, eyes wide and confused.

Then his whole body tenses, eyes bulging.

“N…no way,” he breathes.

He stares at Casca, who meets his gaze unflinchingly, even as tears well in her eyes.

And Rickert remembers her in those days just after the Eclipse, standing beneath the waterfall for hours and hours.[14]

His eyes fall on Erica, now hugging Casca tightly. Just like she did back then, when Casca would shriek and rebel at being touched or going near him, or Guts. Clearly terrified. Clinging to the only…[15]

“No way,” Rickert repeats, but his voice is empty. He bows his head, feeling his heart beating faster, taking shallow breaths. “He…Griffith wouldn’t…”

And Rickert remembers the look on Griffith’s face that terrible winter morning, as he’d flourished his sword…[16]

“But…but…”

Rickert looks almost desperately at Guts. But the other man’s single eye is fixed on the forge fire.

Rickert sees his right hand gripping the place where his left arm ends. Gripping it so tightly, he’s shaking.

“How…” Rickert gasps, “How could…”

“The way our son died,” says Casca, “he didn’t exactly…he was a spirit, and he could come to us. That’s how he got caught up in the ritual at the Tower, when Griffith reincarnated.”

“Griffith…” Rickert’s eyes are round, “What he did killed your son, and now…and now, he’s…”

“Now the kid needs us to save ‘im,” says Guts.

Rickert’s eyes are still wide and unblinking.

He’s remembering a garden. A laughing princess. A man as beautiful as a god, pure white, amidst…[17]

He feels sick.

“He…Griffith acts like…”

“Nothin’s changed,”[18] says Guts, still staring at the fire.

Rickert looks at Guts. His missing parts. His scars.

The young man looks down at his own hands.

Watches them clench into fists.

“You were wrong, Guts,” he says.

Guts finally glances at him, in surprise.

Rickert is shaking, eyes full of tears, his face full of…

“The Band of the Falcon,” he says. Bitterly. “Led by Griffith, the White Falcon.[19] And then…what he did to them,” Rickert’s nails dig into his palms, “and then, to the last survivors, he…”

Rickert shakes his head.

He looks up at Guts, eyes full of pain.

“You were wrong,” he says. “I can hate Griffith.”[20]

Movement catches the corner of his eye. Rickert turns and sees Casca pulling gently away from Erica.

She steps over to Rickert, and squats down so that her face is level with his.

Her eyes are wide, intent—and angry. As angry as his.

“I know,” she says quietly.

Casca takes his left hand, then his right.

Puck flies to Guts. Erica stands against the wall, smothering sobs with her hands. Guts is silent and unmoving.

No one speaks. Something private is happening, between the final members of the Band of the Falcon.

And as Rickert and Casca gaze at each other, something shifts.

Slowly, shared anger fades, buckles. Sorrow overwhelms rage.

Rickert’s shoulders shake. “I…I should’ve…” he swallows, closes his eyes. Tears fall as he shakes his bowed head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Casca grabs him and hugs him tightly to her.

“You…” she hisses fiercely against his ear.

Then she softens, squeezing him tighter.

“We,” she chokes, tears falling from wide eyes, “have nothing to be sorry for.”

In the shadow of the doorway, a man with wide, kohl-lined eyes and chakrams at his belt stares at the scene.

Then Silat slips away, unheard.

---------

[1] This is inspired by Serpico in V33 E296

[2] This approach to Rickert (totally on purpose) parallels V17 E129

[3] A very slight sideways reference to Erica as she originally appeared in V10 E48, when she wanted to be a blacksmith like her dad.

[4] “still” Reference to V17 E130-131 (which themselves reference V10 E52 and V12 E74)

[5] refers to V17 E130

[6]Following scene is a reference to V17 E129

[7]as discussed in V38 E338-339

[8] refers to V38 E334 when Erica explains why they moved to Falconia.

[9] V22 E181

[10]V38 E337

[11]refers to Rickert’s reflections in V38 E338

[12] refers to V38 E335-336

[13] V14 E94

[14] V13 E89

[15] V13 E89

[16] V8 E35

[17] V38 E337

[18] V22 E181

[19] V38 E337

[20] V22 E181

Chapter Text

Some time later, Erica re-enters the forge hauling two buckets of water. Guts follows her in, balancing two lengths of steel on his shoulder.

Casca’s sitting on a stool now, silently watching Rickert at the anvil. He’s hammering and turning the metal, shaping it to his will. He notices Guts enter, though, and nods to indicate where the steel should go.

Guts sets the metal down as Erica deposits her buckets near the forge fire. Rickert lowers his hammer and returns the metal to the flame.

“Next phase’ll take a bit,” he says, wiping his forehead. He hooks his ankle around his stool again, and sits. “I’d like to have a look at your arm while we’re waiting, Guts.”

Guts blinks, then smiles.[1] He reaches for the straps of the prosthetic—but somehow Casca’s already there. Her hands reach for where iron meets flesh, fingers flying.

As she undoes the buckles, her left shoulder leans very slightly against Guts.

He hesitates, then lets his right arm rest on her side as she finishes removing the iron.

He feels it come loose, knows it’s off his arm. But Casca pauses, just for a moment.

Then she steps away, handing the arm to Rickert.

He takes it and inspects it closely, examining every crevice. “Not bad,” he says. “There’s a patch or two to do before we leave, but it’s mostly set.”

He doesn’t notice that they’re all staring at him until he looks up.

“What?” He asks innocently.

“You’re not comin’” Guts says, stepping forward and holding out his hand for the prosthetic.

Rickert passes it to him, unperturbed at his cold tone.

“I am, actually,” he says mildly.

“Look, if you think I’ll—” starts Erica, but Rickert holds up a hand to her and turns his head towards Casca. Erica falls silent.

“I’m the only one here in the village,” Rickert says, “who’s gotten into Falconia by the main gate.[2] So, I have a general understanding of the whole city’s layout.[3] I know people still living there who I’m sure will give us somewhere to shelter. I even known about the inside of Griffith’s castle—and where he might be found in it.”

No one speaks for a moment after he finishes. Guts blinks, looking surprised. Erica’s mouth hangs open.

 Casca’s eyes don’t move from Rickert’s.

“Rickert,” she says, “why do you want to come?”

He frowns. “Like I said, I—”

“Rickert,” Casca repeats, tone sharper, eyes harder, “please tell me why.”

Rickert hesitates. His eyes drift downward.

“Falconia,” he says, “it’s like a paradise. It’s…perfect. And it’s all,” his fists clench, “all a lie.”

“The dead spirits, solace for their loved ones: actually being sent to hell.”

“The comfortable, safe borders of the city: might as well be the fence on a cattle pen.”

“The haven in the dangerous world: the very thing draining the life from the rest of the world.”

“And the new Falcons? Monsters pretending they’re people, and people blinded by light.”

“And him,” Rickert’s eyes are wide, “Him, at the center of it all, acting…being…”

Rickert shakes his head. “It’s wrong,” he says, sitting up, looking again at Casca. “It’s evil.”

“Let me help you end it.”

Casca gazes at him for a long moment.

She glances at Guts. He shrugs. She smiles slightly, and looks back at Rickert.

“All right.”

Erica leaps forward, looking furious and slightly teary.

“Absolutely not,” says Casca.

“I’m coming right back, Erica,” says Rickert, smiling reassuringly.

“I…you--!” Erica shrieks incoherently.

Guts finishes the last buckle to reattach his arm, makes eye contact with Casca and gives the doorway a meaningful look. She heads straight for it, and he ducks out right behind her, snatching his sword from the wall, Puck flying along closely after them as Erica starts shouting.

---------

[1] Remember that Godot made the original hand, but it’s mostly Rickert’s, as seen in V14 E93 and V17 E131.

[2] V38 E334

[3] Rickert walked around Falconia a lot in V38 E334-335 and E338

Chapter Text

It’s very late that night when Guts wakes up.

His eye blinks open, and he sees Casca. It’s dark, only a little is light refracting from the moon and coming through a tiny gap in the curtains of the doorway.

Casca’s sitting up with her back to him, wearing only his sleeveless black shirt.

“Cas?”

She starts—but she doesn’t turn to look at him.

Guts sits up, and sees her arms are wrapped tightly around her legs. So tightly, they’re shaking.

She’s sitting to his left. They usually sleep with her on that side of him, so he can lay his good arm over her and she can use his half-arm as a pillow. So left his eye, now, can see her clearly.

He moves up, beside her, where her face is visible in the dim light.

She doesn’t look at him.

Her gaze is far away…her eyes are wide, unfocused, and…strange.

He reaches his right arm across his chest, touching her shoulder—

And she flinches away from him.

Guts freezes.

Slowly, he withdraws his hand.

She doesn’t look at him.

He swallows, then crosses his legs to sit still next to her.

“Cas,” he says again, quietly. She doesn’t react.

He lifts the end of his left stump to brush against her back.

She flinches…but as he begins to draw away, her head turns slightly towards him. Still not looking at him.

“Cas,” he repeats, softly. “If you…”

He nudges her with his shoulder, and she sways. “You know you can say anythin’ to me, right?”

Casca shudders slightly at the words. “I…”

He waits.

And when she finally looks at him, she sees that his single eye is filled with love and understanding.

Casca swallows, and her own eyes drift closed before she finally begins to speak.

“I hate what…Griffith did to Rickert. What he did to all the Falcons. To…to you, to…to all those people now who’re…”

Her eyes open, but fix on some distant point near her arms, her head slightly bowed as she pulls her legs closer towards her.

Her muscles tense, slowly, but steadily, all through her body.

And in her eyes, grows…

“He raped me,” she gasps, voice harsh.

“Me. And…and it was about you,” she snorts in pained derision.

“Everything I…” she almost growls, “I…”

“I hate him,” she chokes, “I do, I…”

She’s starting to shake.

Guts doesn’t say anything.

But he shifts his body so that the stump of his left arm is lightly touching her back.

Casca’s gasping for breath, and tears are pouring down her face.

“I keep trying to just…just hate him, but…I keep coming back to…how?”

“I don’t understand!” she keens desperately.

“I, I don’t…how could Griffith do that to me, Guts? I…”

She throws her head back, clutching herself tighter. “What could I have done?” she asks the air above her. “What…how could I have…how could it have all gone so wrong?”

She bends her head and presses it to her knees, shuddering uncontrollably.

“How…Everything he, everything I…how could it…”

“None of it mattered, he…he just cared about you, and himself, and I was just…”

The shaking is so strong now that she’s almost convulsing.

“I…I tried, so hard, Guts, for so long…”

And for just an instant, Guts’ mind is faraway.

He remembers Casca glancing back over her shoulder, as she walked away from him and Griffith.[1]

And he remembers looking back over his shoulder, carrying a pointless bag of coin he’d risked death for. Seeing Gambino in that chair, smiling at his dog…[2]

Guts blinks the memories away. Casca’s rasping, “But I couldn’t, I couldn’t be anything but…to you, to him, I…Everything I ever…”

She’s pulling herself inward, crushing herself. Drawing away from everything.

“He made me a thing,” she chokes, “to hurt you.”

“Like…” her eyes are wide, “a sword…”[3]

Guts can barely breathe.

“And he…he used my…woman’s,” the word is bitter, “body[4] to…”

Her eyes are closed, tears still falling.

“I didn’t,” she’s shaking her head, “want that to happen, I didn’t mean to, to…”

Guts remembers a dawn by a waterfall. Saying to her, “I didn’t mean to kill you, Gambino.”[5]

Remembers Gambino’s wide eyes, glaring at him over the sword in the man’s throat[6]…

The sword Gambino himself had…

And he remembers Griffith’s wide eyes as he’d forced Casca’s mouth to his. As her own eyes had[7]…

“You,” Guts whispers—and remembers Gambino’s last words, “You killed Cis[8]…”

And then, the last sight of his right eye, Casca slumped to the floor, broken, Griffith gazing at him, full of… triumph…

Casca, the real Casca, is in front of him.

She’s huddled into a ball, and she doesn’t seem to have heard him.

“You…” he tries again, and she’s shaking her head.

“I know, I know, I said, I, I did try, but…”

Her hands reach up to bury in her hair. “I…I still…I don’t understand why—”

And Guts remembers looking at Gambino in anguish, screaming inside his head, “WHY?”[9]

“I,” Casca says.

Guts’ eye blinks. Fixes on her. And he knows she must…

This isn’t…it can’t…she…

“I’m sorr—”

“No!”

The word came from Guts’ mouth.

He’s moved without thought, and now he’s in front of her, and she looks towards him…

With such fear…

Such vulnerability…

He remembers what it’s like…he knows…

He leans forward on his knees, propping his body on his fist so he can bring his face nearer hers.

“Casca,” he gasps out.

She hears the urgency in his voice and blinks. Her eyes focus on him, on his face, full of….

Her shivering slows.

“It was not,” Guts chokes, “your fault, Casca.”

“None of it.”

“He was wrong, Cas. Since way before…”

Casca’s shaking halts.

“And you,” he slowly leans back, sits on his heels. Looking at her. “Always deserved better, Cas.”

Casca stares at him, tracks of tears etched over her cheeks.

“I…” she whispers again…but her face is different now.

Guts smiles softly.

He reaches up to touch her face.

And suddenly he’s never felt more certain.

“You,” Guts says again, “deserved better. Right from the start. You deserved better from him.”

Casca leans into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed as his hand cradles her face.

“I did,” she whispers, “didn’t I…”

Guts presses his hand to her warm skin.

“Cas,” he says, “you trust me?”

She opens her eyes, and in them, he sees…She’s the most fragile thing I’ve ever seen.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“There is nothin’,” Guts says, fierce certainty humming through him, “nothin’ in you that ain’t worth lovin’”

Casca gazes at him.

And then she falls into him, clings to him, curls in his lap, and sobs.

Almost like a child.

---------

[1] V5 E1

[2] V4 E0J

[3] V7 E18 and V9 E45

[4] Casca’s frustration with her feminine physicality turns up a lot,  most directly in of course in V6 E16

[5] V9 E47

[6] V4 E0K

[7] V13 E87 and V17 E130

[8] V4 E0K

[9] V4 E0J

Chapter Text

It’s a long time before Casca stops crying.

But she does stop.

Her breathing evens, her trembling slows, and fades, and she presses her cheek against Guts’ chest.

“I,” she finally whispers, “I did deserve better.”

Guts just keeps holding her. “Yes,” he says.

Casca looks up at him. “He…Griffith should not have done that to me.”

“Never,” Guts says forcefully.

Casca’s eyes fall, become distant. “None of it.”

Guts squeezes her shoulder.

Casca slowly moves her body upward.

Looks at him.

Her hand caresses his face.

She sits up and turns to face him. Puts both her hands against his cheeks.

Guts watches her, and doesn’t move.

Until she leans back, and pulls him with her.

He moves until he rests on his elbows, propped above her body.

In her dark[1] eyes, he sees…

“I…” Casca closes her eyes for a moment in pain.

Then she looks at him again. “I don’t know…without what he gave me…after what he…without all that…”

Guts watches her.

“I don’t know who I am,”[2] she whispers.

And for moment, Guts remembers stars.[3]

He leans down. Her arms fall from his face, resting on his shoulders as he rubs his forehead against hers.

“Casca,” he whispers to her.

“You’re Casca.”

“And you’re here. With me.”

His fingers brush her face.

Her hand folds over his.

“Alla you,” he murmurs.

Tears fall when Casca closes her eyes. Her other hand rises to his cheek.

“I,” she breathes, “but, I…”

“You,” Guts repeats, “are here, Cas. I swear.”

He feels her right hand move. Down his face. Across his chest. Until she touches the place where his pulse hums from.

Guts swallows, a little nervously.

Then her eyes open, and she looks at him.

And he feels only….

He nuzzles her forehead gently, his eye drifting closed.

“Yeah,” he whispers.[4]

Casca’s hand moves to his back. And he begins to lower himself against her.

“I,” she whispers, a touch of wonder in her tone, “I belong…”[5]

Her legs rise, brush against him. Their lips are almost…

Casca’s hands move to hold his face.

“Here,” they both whisper together.

Here, Casca thinks, as they kiss. Always here…

Her fingers bury in Guts’ hair. His skin on hers...it’s as if the feelings inside her—inside him—are overflowing,[6] are…everything, for this moment, in this place where…

Always this.

Always. [7]

---------

Casca is curled against Guts, his left arm beneath her head, the fingers of their right hands intertwined. Guts feels himself starting to doze off—until he realizes Casca is tensing up.

He lifts his head a bit, and sees that her eyes are wide open. When he follows her gaze, his eye falls on her sword where it leans against the wall.

He remembers her telling the story of how she first took up the sword.[8]

Her eyes are hooded as she glares at the weapon.

“That’s your sword,” Guts says quietly.

Casca blinks. Moves slightly against his body.

“Is it, though?” she asks.

He snorts. “Ask alla the men you killed with it.”

“But not for me,” she says.

Guts leans his head back against the pillow. “Still yours,” he says. “Your hands,” he gently squeezes her fingers, “your scars.[9] Your strength.”

“So, what do you wanna do with it?”

He feels her startle, as if surprised at the question.

Slowly, she says, “What he did to us, to you, to our comrades, to our son,” she hesitates, then with only a small quaver adds, “to me…”

She rolls over, meeting Guts’ eye. “I want to use that sword to make it righ—”

She stops mid-word.

Guts doesn’t speak. His eye is full of agonized understanding.

Casca sighs, her eyes closing. “I want to use it,” she says, anger fading, “to get my son back. And…” her neck relaxes, her head leaning against Guts’ arm. “And I want to make sure,” she whispers, “he can’t…he doesn’t hurt us again. Or anyone else, if I can.”

Guts curls his arm around her back. Leans his forehead to her hair and closes his eye.

“It’s your sword,” he says. “So, it’s your decision.”

“You can do what you want.”[10]

Casca’s eyes tighten. Begin to leak tears. Which fall down, against Guts’ skin beneath her head, and then keep going.

-----------

Casca dreams of a great black gird of prey, darker than night or fear, with wings so wide they seem to consume all light as it soars towards her with its terrible claws extended.[11]

When it reaches her, it tears at her body with those talons, raking deep wounds in her face, her breasts, her belly—everywhere.

She doesn’t flinch or fight.

And slowly, it stops.

It moves backwards. And as it does, it becomes far smaller.

The size of a real falcon.

And the deep wounds it left in her body are gone. Leaving only scars.

The bird of prey turns its head and looks at her with Griffith’s eye.

Casca swallows, shudders a little—but she doesn’t look away.

And then, it is looking at her with her own eye.

She smiles faintly.

She holds out her left hand, fisted, at a slight angle.

The bird of prey flies to her arm, perches on her wrist.

Its talons gouge into her flesh.

She does not flinch away.

[1] V4 E0M

[2] references Casca’s internal monologue in V9 E46

[3] V4 E0K

[4] V9 E47: Casca thinks: “Maybe my place is within this man’s heart.”

[5] V9 E47

[6] V39 E350

[7] This scene is the only one I wrote so many times I straight up lost track. There were like 6 different things I wanted to do with it at different times.

What it ended up being was something I like a lot. It combines two threads from the Golden Age, underlaid with Casca’s Dreamscape and what we learned there about her mind and psychology. The two threads are from V4 E0K and V9 E47. In V4 E0K , Guts wanders around thinking, “where am I going, anyway,” after gazing up at the sky. In this scene, he answers that, or at least part, of that question for Casca. This also has some similarity to Guts' conversation with her when she was afraid before they had sex in V9 E46. In that episode, as in these scenes, Guts pushes himself past where he would be able to go by himself (or be comfortable going if he’d thought about it first) because that’s what Casca needs from him.

The other thread is Casca’s internal thoughts at the end of V9 E47. Casca thinks there that, “Maybe my place is inside this man’s heart.” She’s already done a ton of what followed, the “giving something to him as well,” and this scene I wrote is her coming back to that idea of having a place. 

Which leads to the foundational underpinnings of the Dreamscape and Casca’s response to trauma. Casca and Guts love each other very dearly. But while the romantic ideal of love is that it’s the only thing one needs, Berserk shows the lie in that many, many times. Yet, paradoxically, it thereby shows the truth that lies at the core of that ideal.

Love by itself was not enough to save Guts or Casca from the pain and demons internal and external which traumatized them. Love wasn’t enough on that Winter’s Journey for Guts to not completely lose his mind. It wasn’t enough for Casca to have the will to survive the Eclipse, or to bring her back afterwards. They both needed help, and lots of it.

Except, of course, love by itself was the only thing to save Guts and Casca. Guts identifies this very directly when he thinks of Casca in Godot’s cave, thinks that the campfire from those days, embodied by Casca, his love for her and the fact of her simple survival, was the only feeble flame left to him that kept him from being consumed by the black flame. And when we see inside Casca’s mind in V39, we see that her connection to Guts was the only reason anything of her survived at all.

Casca’s thoughts in the scene I wrote highlight that paradox. At one point in her life, she seemed to think that just one person could be everything. She thought that about Griffith, that she could do anything be anything for him. She suspected a similar thing about Guts. And Guts thought something not dissimilar when he reflected on his relationships with Griffith and Gambino in V8 E33, that it would be enough for just one person to see him. This was a bad way to construct a sense of self. One person can't be everything to someone, not absolutely everything. Particularly not when a third extremely messed-up relationship is all intertwined with that other person (Griffith). But, sometimes, it can be enough.

These scenes I wrote are a test of their marriage, their bond, and what it means for them as a pair and as individuals. They got married in order to create a foundation stone for a future, a family, something that would be able to withstand outside forces that tried to destroy them. But the ceremony, the wish, is only the first part of that. The actions, the feelings, the will is where the true test lies. And going forward in this case means going back. They’re headed for what used to be the capital city of Midland, remember. For Guts and Casca, the ‘just’ and ‘everything’ of their bond can give them somewhere to stand as the door in their minds that is Griffith, all of Griffith, opens, and what lurks within floods out. 

[8] V6 E16

[9] V9 E46

[10] refers to V6 E16

[11] the falcon as seen first in V40 E352

Chapter Text

Schierke wipes sweat from her brow. “Your opinion?” she asks.

Daiba nods approvingly as the spell runes vanish in the air above the sword. “It should hold,” he says, “and for a longer time after I do this.”

He raises a docile snake[1] by the neck in one hand. Then he snatches the Behelit sword up and plunges it into the serpent’s open mouth, in a single swift movement.

The snake shudders and shakes as it dies, held stiff by the length of steel within its body.

Ivarela looks sick. Schierke clenches her fists and does not look away.

Daiba removes the bloodstained sword and examines it, carelessly dropping the dead snake. “A strong blood seal,” he says. “It should even reinforce the resonation between totem and inhuman, thus disrupting the balance between their physical and astral manifestations further and helping your cause.” The blood fades and vanishes into the blade as he speaks.

Schierke accepts the sword a bit gingerly when he offers it. Her fingers brush the Behelit at the cross of the hilt. One of its eyes opens, then falls closed.

“And,” asks Daiba, “will you be accompanying them to the city itself, child?”

Schierke looks up at him, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I?”

The sorcerer shrugs. “There are no spirits in that city, young witch. Only men.” He gives her a knowing look. They are both, after all, adepts of the spirit world. They know the pain of being in a place where spirits are overwhelmed and forced away.[2]

“You could part way with them at the gates, or before reaching the crystals. Why do you not consider this?”

Schierke is silent.

“After all, what can be done by such as us, against…”

Ivarela makes a tentative comment about the relative safety of the wilderness compared to the city, but Schierke doesn’t pay attention. She’s remembering the last city of men she entered,[3] the feelings of helplessness and loneliness it engendered.

And she’s remembering the overwhelming presence of the Falcon. When she first saw him,[4] and on the island during the battle for Skellig, when he had move almost too quickly to see, and killed…

Her fingers tighten, one hand on her staff, one on the sword hilt.

She remembers Farnesse’s body falling…

And she remembers Casca’s fear, when Griffith had first appeared on the island.

Casca, who is headed unhesitatingly toward that city.

Finally, Schierke remembers Guts at the house of her mistress, his body thin and lean as he coolly walked away from her and said the he would get the God Hand, someday,[5] despite everything.

And after all, this is a decision I already made. To accompany them.

I shall not falter.

“They will need me,” she says quietly to Daiba, “if something goes wrong with the sword. And who knows—perhaps I will be able to offer aid now unknown, to counter the Falcon.”

Daiba seems about to say something—then he stops. Nods slightly.

“As you will, then.”

---------

As the sun rises towards its zenith, the group gathers in the plaza. The Behelit sword looks like a toy in Guts’ hand, and Rickert ends up wrapping it up and tying it to his own pack, which is stuffed to the brim with protruding technical-looking objects and tools. There is plenty of room for one more oddity.

When strapped to the pack, the hilt of the Behelit sword juts upwards. Its eye opens and beings roving, as if curious, and Puck sits down on top of the bag and starts chatting consolingly to the demonic fetish.

As Erica helps Rickert lever the pack onto his back (her own face still petulant), Silat emerges from one of the houses in his full armor, flanked by two Tapasa.

“We shall accompany you,” says the Bakiraka clan chief without preamble.

Guts snorts. “Like hell.”

Rickert steps forward, moving awkwardly under the weight of his bag. “Master Silat…” he starts, looking skeptical.

But Casca waves a hand to silence both Rickert and Guts, her eyes fixed on the Bakiraka chief.

“What are your terms?” she asks. “Other than not killing us before we leave.”

At this, Guts’ eye turns to the houses around them. A large number of Bakiraka have appeared in the last moments, leaning casually in doorways or crouching near ladders. Guts sighs and shifts his feet to get a better stance.

Silat notices the movement, and his lip curls slightly. But then he looks at Casca, eyes intense. “We wish to aid in killing the Falcon,” he says. “It is necessary for our own survival, and it will enable us to finally leave this land and return to our homeland. In a world which is no longer preternaturally hostile, many things will be possible which once were dreams.”[6]

Guts’ eye narrows. “An’ how do we know you’re not gonna turn us in to Griffith to get a better deal for switching sides?”

Silat glares at him. “If I were going to join the Falcon, I would have done so long ago. I would not entrust my clan’s fate to one so evidentially untrustworthy as he.”

Guts snorts, clearly unconvinced. Silat turns back to Casca, ignoring him. “We have everything to gain by assisting you, and everything to lose by betraying you.” He says, voice measured. “Additionally, I have knowledge of how to break into the Falcon’s castle.”[7]

Eyebrows go up around him.

Puck makes a face. “Coulda said that last part sooner!”

Casca’s gaze turns to Rickert. He gives a small nod.

Guts makes an exasperated sound that Casca ignores, turning back to Silat.

“We accept,” she says. “But only you can come with us into the city.” She nods at the Tapasa. “We’re planning to go in by the main gate, and no offense, but you two won’t be much help on a stealth mission.”

The rock-men look annoyed, but Silat nods, and they don’t argue. He waves a hand when another Bakiraka steps forward. “Stealth,” he says, “is indeed aided by fewer numbers.”

Schierke’s voice is a little unsteady when she pipes up. “The Tapasa can accompany us to the border of the Falcon’s land, but there is a chance that ones such as you would cause spiritual disruption to what he has made. So, you will need to remain in those wilds…”

Silat is nodding. “Daiba will meet them in a few days’ time. He can come on his beasts,[8] and then Rickert and I will meet them and return by air after our goal is accomplished.”

Casca nods in agreement. Then she reaches up and raps her knuckles on Guts’ armored chest, drawing all eyes to her.

“Let’s go.”

---------

[1] Daiba’s command over snakes was seen in V38 E341

[2] V28 E244

[3] V28 E244

[4] V22 E184

[5] V24 E202

[6] Daiba’s and the Bakiraka’s desire to return to their homeland is seen in V27 E31

[7] this is referenced in V38 E336 and seen in E338

[8] the same ones Rickert and company used to flee Falconia in V38 E341

Chapter Text

They start the journey, as before, walking on the world tree branches. The elves scout ahead, and come back as soon as they spot Falconia in the distance. Everyone halts and looks at Schierke.

It’s too chancy to summon a spirit if there’s any chance of tipping off Falconia, even from this far away. Instead, Schierke goes into her astral form and searches until she finds the nearest set of standing stones. Somehow (she explains, to general bafflement) she links their location to the stones.

“You may step from the path now,” she says calmly, indicating the empty air beside the shimmering branch.

They all give her flat, skeptical looks.

She stares at them. “What?”

Casca coughs. “Schierke, while we respect your abilities….”

“I shall take the vanguard,” says Serpico. “The wind spirits can return me to the path, should something go amiss.”

Schierke colors as she understands. Ivarela leaps up and starts shouting furiously, “You bunch of spoiled, rotten, freeloading—” But all eyes are on Serpico as he steps off the path.

He stands, apparently in midair.

“Hm,” he says. He turns his head towards the others. “It is quite safe.”

They each gingerly step forward, and find themselves walking through short columns of stone. “You need only go straight,” calls Schierke from behind them. “I will come last to collapse the link.”

Everyone emerges into a small field of stone, a mix of whole and broken arches. Forest surrounds the stones’ clearing.

When Schierke joins them, she nods (a bit stiffly) to the east. “I observed an abandoned farmhouse that way, in which we could comfortably pass the night. I estimate we are a little less than a day’s walk to the border of Falconian land, so if we set out at dawn tomorrow we should arrive at the city by dusk.”

“The creatures in the wild?” asks Silat as they start in the direction she’d indicated.

“I saw no signs of them here,” says Schierke, frowning slightly, “or of any other life in the immediate vicinity.”

“Guess the magic ones hunted everythin’ nearby an’ moved on,” says Guts grimly. “But there’s a lotta land…”

“We should remain quiet,” says Casca, a little pointedly, “to avoid attracting any hidden predators.”

So no one talks until the reach the farmhouse. The place was hastily abandoned, and the possessions of the old owners are still there. They find clothes that fit everyone near enough for disguises, and even some food stores.

As everyone begins to put down their bedrolls in the house’s main room, Casca stretches and says, “Guts, Serpico, would you please check the perimeter for any…nests, or whatever?”

Guts stares at her flatly. “You kiddin’?”

She turns and glares at him.

He shoots a pointed look at Silat and the Tapasa.

She keeps glaring.

Muttering darkly, Guts steps toward the door. “C’mon Serpico,” he calls. Puck flies out with them.

As the men step out into the gloaming, Serpico quietly says, “Are you certain this is wise?”

Guts walks until they reach the tree line, a few minutes’ distance. As they pass into the forest, Guts grins at Serpico and raises his hand. A hair ring is wrapped around his finger. “Schierke slipped that to me a few minutes ago,” he explains. “We’ll stay near enough we can get back quick if there’s trouble. Worst comes to worst, that lot can hold the Bakiraka off at least a bit. An’ Cas might actually get some useful info from our new “friends” without the likes of you an’ me lurkin’ about.”

Serpico still looks slightly skeptical, but he follows Guts as they start to circle the house from the woods.

“Nothin’ this way,” says Puck, darting deeper into the trees and then returning. “Or this,” he says, bouncing back again, making Guts roll his eye.

The elf is about to fly off again, but halts, face creasing. “Oi, Guts…”

Guts’ hand is already rising to his sword. Serpico reaches for his blade as well, stepping back to get cover in the shadows, eyes wide and alert. They can all feel…

“And again,” says a deep, hollow, inhuman voice, “our paths intersect in the midst of the wilderness, struggler.”[1]

Guts lets out a snort, his hand falling to his side. Serpico, now crouched among the trees, doesn’t copy him. His eyes are fixed on what has just emerged from the darkness.

A skeletal knight sits astride an uncanny horse. Strange light glows from the depths of his skull head, illuminating empty eye sockets.

Serpico feels his heartbeat accelerating, sweat pouring down his face.[2] His hand does not quite shake as he starts to draw his sword.

“C’mon out, Serpico,” calls Guts, breaking the tension. “Me ‘n this weirdo go way back, he’s nothin’ to worry ‘bout.”

Puck, sitting now on Guts’ shoulder, turns until he finds Serpico and smiles reassuringly, beckoning him forward.

Serpico slowly eases himself from the trees, still wary. The Knight of the Skeleton glances at him, then seems to dismiss him, glowing eyes swiveling back towards Guts.

“Last I saw,” says Guts, head slightly tilted back to meet the skull’s gaze, “you were fightin’ to the death with Zodd again. Thought he mighta finally got you.”

The knight ignores this. “You are bound for a final confrontation,” he says. It’s not a question.

Guts’ eyebrows rise. “Don’ tell me you want in?” he growls. “We got enough hangers-on—”

“You would choose to gamble all on a single swing of your sword?” asks the skeleton knight.

Guts shrugs. “That’s what I do, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Yeah, an’ it hasn’t gotten him killed yet!” adds Puck.

The Knight of the Skeleton is silent and still. His undead horse does not shift or twitch.

“The world is changed,” he says finally. “The water, the shadows, the moon itself—they are more of a part than since before…”

“This world is now, in effect, entirely the interstice. Thus, they have power in all parts of it, as they did in the elder days.”

Guts doesn’t respond. Puck’s brow creases in confusion.

“You seek,” the knight continues, “to challenge them, now, when they are at their most—”

“You said before,” Guts interrupts, “They were the ones writin’ the story,[3] right? Well, now we’re writin’ it. If this’s a moment when they think they’re untouchable , well…” Guts’ smile is predatorial, “That’s the kinda thinkin’ that loses a fight.”

“Perhaps. And yet,” says the Knight of the Skeleton. “I am given to understand that the object of your quest now is to rescue your cursed child.”

Guts stiffens. “Yeah.”

The Knight’s head shifts slightly. “You would do well,” he says, almost gently, “to remember its birth.”[4]

Guts holds very still.

“Though it may bear the appearance of humanity now, it was, as you witnessed, possessed by evil before its very arrival into the world.” The Knight’s words are firm and unstoppable.

“You propose to risk all for its sake, to perhaps squander your single, precious opportunity to strike at the inhumans, to strike down that one…” Guts’ whole body twitches, and the cloak behind him ripples in the windless night. The knight continues, “All to gain what for one such as the vessel would at best be no more than a half-human life…”

Guts’ eye is wide as the knight’s voice trails off.

“And, if you should fail,”

Guts remembers a dream of running, his foot pierced by a spear, binding him in place…[5]

“To have all of that which you treasure consumed…”

Guts remembers the gigantic, misshapen infant that had borne down on him in the dream…

“Just like that time?” the Knight finishes. “This is the act of a fool.”

“You have witnessed,” he continues, “what waits one who treads unwarily. What desolation….”

Guts remembers a dying woman in a long-lost time[6]…

And remembers Casca, sobbing and screaming as what was left of their son vanished in the dawnlight.[7]

He remembers holding her.

Her sorrow and fear.

And he remembers her years later on Roderick’s ship, looking for the vanished boy[8]….

He remembers how, when he first saw him, the boy had clung to Casca that night by the beach…

Then, softened. Looking up, at[9]…

“You must understand,” begins the skeletal knight.

But Guts isn’t listening anymore. He’s remembering that day on Skellig, when the boy had come to find him.

Remembering the uncertain look the child had given him, as Guts had urged him to return to the others[10]…

And Guts remembers a being of pure light, reaching out to him.[11] Stepping away from Casca. Going toward him, without fear or hesitation, a small hand stretched out…

Guts realizes that he’s laughing.

Puck and Serpico are gawking at him, but he doesn’t stop. He shakes his head at the blank skull’s face.

“You don’t know shit, d’you?” Guts guffaws. “All this time, you’ve jus’ been takin’ what happened before an’ projectin’ it on the present, isn’t that right? The eclipse, the tower, makin’ this new world—it’s all what happened before, ain’t it?”[12]

The knight doesn’t respond.

“But not exactly,” says Guts, grinning as the laughter fades. “This,” he raps the armor at his chest, “doesn’ get a skull’s head, does it?”

“An’ tell me, ‘Knight of the Skeleton,’ what’d you fight the God Hand for? Companions? A noble ideal? Or,” Guts’ smile is cold and almost cruel, “did you fight ‘em for power, King Emperor Gaiseric?”

A breath of wind whistles among the trees.

“Who’s more powerful’n a king?” Guts’ smile deepens, “A god. An’ his angels, devils, whatever.”

“So, did you challenge ‘em for love? Or hate? Or,” Guts’ eye is cold and certain, “for envy?”

Silence fills the forest.

“I am…no longer certain,” says the skull-faced knight. “It has been many lifetimes since those days.”

“But I am certain that all was lost to me. And if you fail to take heed of my words, fail to check your blind hope—”

“I’ll wind up like you?” Guts glares at him. “An’ miss,” his fist clenches, “my one shot at….”

The darkness of Guts’ cloak writhes as if alive, pulsing, rippling, and…

“This ain’t,” Guts growls, “about that. Not today.”

He shakes his head, feeling himself trembling—and his eye falls on Puck.

Who is sitting on his shoulder and staring at him, eyes wide and full of concern.

Guts looks at the little elf, and tension drains out of him. His cloak falls, hangs limp and still.

Guts looks at the ground in front of the Skeleton Knight.

“You remember tellin’ me,” he asks the knight, voice quiet, “to kill my son in front of his mother, right after he was born—without givin’ him even a few seconds’ chance?”[13]

Puck’s hand covers his mouth, and Serpico’s eyes grow huge. The knight is utterly still.

“You said he’d ‘just bring woe on us,’” says Guts. “An’ I thought that was true.”

“That he was cursed. Just like me.[14] I’d been a fool to think…to hope anythin’ else.”

“So when I saw ‘im later, I was a monster to him. An’ I treated him like he was a monster.”

Guts’ gaze rises to meet the skull’s. “An’ he kept turnin’ up! To try an’ help me.”

“Without him, his mother woulda died at the tower.[15] Without him, this thing,” his knuckles ring against his armored chest, “woulda driven me mad way back. In this armor, if he hadn’t helped me…” he shakes his head, “I’d really be a monster, long gone.”

“He saved me from that. Saved us all”

“There’s no way in hell I’ll give up on him after that.”

No one speaks.

Guts’ mouth twitches, then he asks the skull knight, “You want the archangel one, don’ you? The one that was in the vision I had, with the giant brain. He’s the only one you didn’ get a thousand years back, ain’t he?”

After a moment, slowly, the Knight of the Skeleton speaks. “The God Hand sought to gain a foothold in the physical world[16] by which to return this plane of existence to that which it was in centuries long past. I was able to disrupt the birth ceremony of Void. Not before my city was consumed and my lover was killed. But I ended four of the angels when they came near the physical world for the ceremony.”

Guts is smiling humorlessly now. “Griffith’s ‘birth ceremony’ was way back at the tower. So you don’ even know the first thing about what we’re headed for, do you?”

“I know,” intones the knight, “that to entangle a life with the inhuman ones is to be caught forever in a web of their design. It happens to all those in the reason of time.”

“Take heed: not long ago, I too thought I had found a sliver of vulnerability in an inhuman one. The Sword of Actuation[17] struck towards his exposed back. And rather than being pierced, he used that very strike,” the knight extends his hands, “to cut open the spaces between worlds and bring forth this.”[18]

None of them speak.

“The moment you think belongs to you,” says the skeletal knight, “you cannot know aforehand if it be, in truth, another machination of theirs.”

Guts exhales slowly, eye closing, a bead of sweat on his face.

“A fish,” he finally says, softly, “leapin’ to breach the water’s surface.[19] That’s what you told me I might be, remember?”

He opens his eye, but his gaze is faraway.

“Fish make ripples, when they do that.”

“See, the tower was supposed to be just like the eclipse. Everyone there dead. All those prophecies fulfilled. But me, an’ even some other people—we changed that.”

 “I reached Casca. I saved her. That fate didn’ get her. An’ now—now she’s back, even though the eclipse musta been meant to turn her into…”

Guts looks up at the skull face. “An’ at the same time I was savin’ her, somehow, another fish turned up. ‘Cause Danaan knows at least as much as you, an’ she an’ the lot on the island figured there’s no way that kid wound up in Griffith on purpose. An’ he’s made ripples of his own. How d’you explain that?”

The Knight of the Skeleton pauses, then says, “As the realms merge closer to one another, the reflection of the light and the source are no longer so discrete. Perhaps—”

“So,” interrupts Guts, “while you’ve been gamblin’ all your hopes on the moments they chose for a thousand years—”

“I do not—”

“Oh shut it,” Guts snarls. “Your history of bein’ wrong’s getting’ clearer an’ clearer.”

“So: you wanna do your same old thing when we go for Falconia, fight Zodd, hop in an’ help a bit at the last moment? Can’t complain ‘bout that.”

“But don’t you dare touch my son.”

A wind blows through the now darkened forest.

“Perhaps,” says the Knight of the Skeleton, “you are correct, regarding your offspring. Perhaps,” the glow of his eyeless face is fierce, “that child preventing the Falcon from hurting you shall be the only opening you ever gain to strike at him.”

Guts’ eye is wide, and he swallows convulsively.

“After all,” the knight says, “the vessel is indeed a weakness which was not intended. A weakness which you now seek to—”

Guts’ breath loosens. “I told you,” he growls, “this ain’t about getting’ him. I’ll do that,” his back straightens, “by my own strength. Or not at all.”

The knight nods slowly.

“Perhaps,” he says again, “you shall succeed.”

He begins to guide his horse to turn around.

“Perhaps your woman,” Guts flinches, but the knight is looking away now, “has conquered the weakness which once unmade her.”

“Perhaps you, as well, have rooted out the weakness within you.”

The knight’s silhouette is among the trees.

“And perhaps not. You will risk all, and discover the truth.”

“You,” growls Guts, “don’ know Casca. You don’ know our son. An’ you don’t know me.”

“Then why,” says the Knight of the Skeleton as he fades into the darkness, “does nostalgic feeling overtake me when I see you now? Even as you wear the very instrument of my destiny—and defeat?”[20]

Guts breathes out slowly.

All trace of the knight is gone, except for faint hoofprints in the new spring grass.

“Woooowww,” says Puck after a moment. “You really know how to thank people, don’cha?”

“Oh shut up.”

“I mean, I know he can be a bit harsh, an’ he talks like a lunatic, but he saved your life twice!”

“It wasn’ too far outta his way,” retorts Guts. “He didn’t do it ‘cause were friends. An’ you heard ‘im—we’re off the edge of his story, now. He’s just blowin’ hot air, tryin’ to prove himself right. Well, he’s been wrong before, an’ he’s wrong now.”

“You may do well,” says Serpico slowly, “to at least consider the implications of his words. He did seem intimately acquainted with the nature of the situation we are approaching.”

Guts’ lip curls in contempt. “All he knows is how he lost.” Guts’ hand gestures towards his sword. “He doesn’t know how I’m gonna win.”

“We been gone too long as it is,” he adds, looking sharply up towards the dark sky. “Let’s go.”

As Guts leads the way back towards the house, Serpico glances over his shoulder. His eyes linger where the skeletal knight had vanished.

“The only opening…”

He looks back at Guts. “A cursed child…”

He sighs.

I have trusted your enormous strength[21] this far. I will continue to…

He remembers Farnesse’s body.

His eyes close.

Then they open, and he follows Guts back to the farmhouse.

[1] V18 E142

[2] this goes all the way back to SK’s first appearance in V9 E37

[3] V28 E237

[4] V14 E92

[5] V1 E0B

[6] V41 E362

[7] V14 E92

[8] V37 E328

[9] V28 E238

[10] V41 E364

[11] V28 E242-243 and V36 E316-317

[12] this all refers to visions seen in V41 E362

[13] V14 E92

[14] V3 E0I-0J

[15] Happens a few times, but the one Guts knows about is V17 E128

[16] V41 E364

[17] V26 E221

[18] V34 E303-304

[19] V18 E142

[20] V26 E222 and E226

[21] V30 E258

Chapter Text

They find an actual wagon in the barn the next morning. Its wheel is broken, but Rickert fixes it quickly while Schierke goes looking for horses in her astral form.

She comes back with word that she’s found two who’ve wandered nearby overnight. They’re tame (she can tell, somehow) and they agree it’s worth the time it takes to catch them. The wagon is at the border of Falconia by midday, where the Tapasa vanish among the tress.

As they follow the overgrown track, the forest is so thick they almost don’t see the Falconian fields until they’re on top of them. When they pass the last bit of undergrowth, the shift is astonishing. Rolling, rectangular fields replace the wild tangle, and nearby a massive crystal juts from the earth.[1]

Schierke glares at it as they pass by. “As I suspected,” she says, then fiddles with her bonnet. Her witch’s garb is safely stored in the back of the wagon, one of the many bundles covering the armor and weapons the group brought. “They repel,” Schierke explains as Serpico urges the horses to speed up, “all spiritual entities. Only one such as the Falcon could pass by them unaffected.”

Inside the wagon, Puck groans, lying back on Casca’s shoulder. “I feel sick! I think I’m comin’ down with the pox!”

Ivarela, slumped on Schierke’s shoulder, throws a bit of something at him. “You just have to—” her voice trails off as her eyes flutter closed. Schierke turns and catches her as she falls.

The witch stands and gently scoops Puck up too, then deposits both elves on top of one of the bundles at the far end of the wagon. “You’ll be fine once we are within the city walls, having reached a far enough distance from those crystals,” she says soothingly.

Ivarela sits up as if to fly to her, then collapses backwards. Puck is already snoring.

They find a checkpoint a little ways down the road. A Kushan is working there, and he directs them to report to a station further on for registration. Several roads meet there, making it easy for the group to fall in with a few dozen refugees and disappear—until, that is, they reach the front of the registrar’s line.

“The army?”[2] says Rickert blankly as his papers—filled out with a false name—are handed back to him.

The registrar gives him a bored glance. “Yes, you’ll serve ten years and then be granted citizenship.” The words are dull and rote. “There’s quarters for women and children,” he nods at Casca, who’s already holding her papers, “and you men will report back here in three days for your assignment.”

Rickert’s still gawking, and Casca trips a little in her stolen farmwife’s skirt as she tugs him away from the desk.

“Not like that before?” she asks quietly. Rickert shakes his head.

“Empires,” she says, “need soldiers to expand. And it’s not like anyone has another option but to join up.”

A disgruntled Silat walks up to them a moment later, holding his own conscription papers. The Bakiraka looks odd in his common farmer’s clothes, his hair covered by half its usual cloth to add to the disguise.

Casca nods at the door. “Let’s get back to the wagon.”

She gives Guts a meaningful look as she turns to go, and he gives her an almost imperceptible nod in response.

“Now, you,” says the registrar, smiling, as Guts steps up to the table, “you’ll do well in the Band of the Falcon!” He’s looking Guts up and down. “Even with the arm and the eye—”

Guts extends his hand, holding it level. It trembles, clearly uncontrollably, as so often happens when he’s out of the armor like now. “’Fraid not.”

“Oh,” the registrar sighs. “Well, you’ll be good for hauling and carrying. Maybe even earn a residence in the city proper, after,” he adds, as if that’d make up for ten years of drudgery.

“I actually know someone who got to the city last year,” says Guts casually as he makes his mark on the papers. “Any way to visit ‘im ‘fore I start workin’?”

The registrar nods, clearly only half paying attention as he gestures Serpico forward. “They can give you a visitor’s pass at the gates, and your friend can vouch for you if you want to stay the night. Mind you still report back here on time, though: each day you’re late’ll add another year to your service.”

“Thanks,” says Guts, carefully polite. He and Serpico wait for Schierke to register, then return to the wagon.

They don’t reach the city until the late afternoon. The gate guards give them directions to the guild area Rickert stayed in before, and then Serpico urges the horses forward, into the city.

Rickert sits just behind the driver’s seat, ducking his head to keep any passerby from spotting him in case they happen to be someone he met before. Everyone else sits against the sides of the wagon, under the shadow of the canvas cover. Guts’ and Silat’s armor and weapons are in the middle, and all their legs as well as the bundles camouflage the lot. Guts and Casca are in the spots farthest from both ends of the wagon, just in case anyone in the city has their descriptions and is looking for them.

As the wagon passes through the gate into the bustling streets, Casca leans forward to look out the open back, propping her legs up and resting her chin on them.

“Very different,” she says softly, “from the last time we came into this city…”[3]

Rickert smiles, glancing back at her. “I remember. It was like the whole city was screaming our names…”

Guts leans back, his eye growing distant. “I like this better,” he says, remembering his troubled mind that day.

Casca and Rickert both turn and stare at him, and he realizes what he’s said.

“I guess,” says Rickert uncertainly, “you’re not really one for attention…”

Guts, relieved, starts to nod—then his eye meets Casca’s gaze.

What, he thinks, astonished, am I doin’? What do I think I’m protectin’ them from? For who?

“No,” Guts says to Rickert. “I didn’ much enjoy that day ‘cause the night before, Griffith took me aside an’ explained how I was gonna pull off another assassination.”[4]

Everyone in the wagon is staring at him.

Finally, Rickert stutters, “A—another?”

Guts nods. “First one was after the king’s brother tried to assassinate Griffith—it was him who paid that archer at the hunt,[5] remember that? Next day, Griffith sent me to assassinate him back.”[6]

“Did not,” says Serpico suddenly, head half-turned back towards them as the horses walk down a straight road, “the King of Midland’s brother and young nephew both…”

Guts’ head bows.

“Adonis,” he says quietly, looking at his hand in his lap. He clenches his fit. “That was an accident.”[7]

Casca’s eyes widen. “It was that night, the one by the fountain, that they…was that why you…?”[8]

Guts nods. He tilts his head back, leaning it against the wagon’s side with his eye unfocused.

“The kid,” he muses, “woulda probably been a target for Griffith sooner or later[9]…”

He shakes his head, straightens. “Anyway, the night ‘fore that big entrance to Wyndham, Griffith’d already planned out everythin’ that’d happen.[10] He knew about a group tryin’ to take him out, an’ he’d already figured it all: his fake death, you lot believing it, killin’ the Queen and the other ones tryin’ to kill him…”

Guts leans forward, knees rising, and looks out the back of the wagon.

“My job,” he says, voice neutral, “was cleanin’ up the loose ends. Killed the waiter who’d poisoned Griffith’s cup, an’ the thugs Griffith’d hired to kidnap a minister’s daughter to be sure the minister’d go along with his plan.”

Serpico throws astonished looks over his shoulder as Guts speaks. By the time he finishes, Schierke and Rickert’s jaws are both slack. Casca’s head is bowed, her face and thoughts hidden.

“I…” says Rickert, “I knew, even back then, that Griffith had a shady side,[11] but all that…”

“Quite ruthless,” says Silat, not at all disapprovingly.

“Not as much as you’d….” Guts says softly, eye faraway. He trails off.

No one speaks for a moment.

Then, Casca leans forward. Her hand covers Guts’ where it rests against his arm.

He looks at her.

There’s resolution in her eyes.

She nods.

Guts sighs. Then he sits back, using his hand to pull his stolen cloak around himself, as if cold.

“Griffith asked me that night, after it was all over, ‘fore we headed back to you…” Guts’ eye lowers. “He asked, ‘do you think I’m cruel?’”

A long pause follows his words. Then, Silat snorts. “A foolish question in the context,” he says. “Cruelty, kindness—these are immaterial in pursuit of a greater goal. To worry about them, as a leader, is pointless at best, dangerous at worst.”

Guts’ brow creases. “That’s kinda what I told ‘im. That it was all how to reach his dream, an’ that nothin’ else…” he trails off, head bowing slightly.

“I…I wonder, if I’d said….I did think what he did deceivin’ you lot was cruel. An’, well, holdin’ a little kid hostage, can’t argue with that bein’ cruel…But I didn’t tell ‘im any of that…”

“Why,” Schierke hesitates, then pushes on, “Why not?”

Guts’ eye is hooded. “He wasn’ askin’ about any of that. He…he wanted to know if I thought he was cruel,” Guts shakes his head disbelievingly, “’cause he’d had me do all the ‘dirty work,’ an’ ‘stayed clean’ himself.”

Astonished silence meets his words. Rickert looks stunned, but the shock fades quickly into thoughtfulness. Casca’s eyes are closed as if in pain.

“It’s amazing,” she says quietly, “just how stupid you could be[12] back then, Guts.”

Guts’ head bows, his forehead creasing with regret.

“Griffith asked,” says Silat slowly, and all eyes turn to him, “his subordinate if he thought he, himself—the leader—was cruel for ordering a follower to kill a few men?”

Guts blinks at him. His eye grows wide. “What kinda question is that for a man who’s killed a hundred men?”[13] he remembers asking.

“You gotta point?”

Silat’s face is incredulous over his veil. “To ask such an emotionally revelatory question…you were under his  command, not merely his friend.” Silat’s eyebrows rise slightly. “The nature of your relationship was this, correct?”

Guts’ eye narrows. “If you’re sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’, I’m kickin’ you outta this wagon an’ you’re walkin’ home—”

“I’m merely trying to understand,” Silat shakes his head, “Why someone reputedly as brilliant as Griffith would expose himself in so personal a manner. After that,” Silat nods towards Guts, “your trust in him should have been weakened tremendously. When he gave you an order, how could you know for certain he was exercising good judgement? That he was thinking of the greater goal, and not of you?”

Gut’s mouth opens slightly, then closes. His eye meets Casca’s, and he remembers her words, “This never would have happened to Griffith if it weren’t for you[14]…”

“It was,” Guts’ mind returns to the present as Silat continues speaking, “frankly a foolish failure of judgement on his part to say such a thing. Not to mention how baffling it is that…Rickert, you claimed yourself and Casca were members of Griffith’s inner circle?”

Rickert looks faintly offended at Silat’s tone. “We were!”

“Yet,” Silat goes on, “you not only knew nothing of the sort of tactics of which Guts speaks—it was even concealed from you that Griffith was capable of such actions in the first place?”

Rickert nods uncertainly. Silat releases a derisive snort. “Those I ask to follow me so closely know what I am capable of, for good and for ill. It is why they trust me. If I were to conceal my abilities and character from those who I trust to safeguard my back and fight at my side, those who devote themselves to the goals we hold in common, why should they trust me with their lives?”

“You,” says Casca faintly, her hand gently rubbing the spot where her brand is, her eyes faraway, “you didn’t see Griffith in those days. He was like…he had a divine presence, an aura that called to everyone, like he was more than…”

“Even less to be trusted,” responds Silat drily, and her eyes snap to him. “Not to mention an unwise reputation to cultivate and then maintain even with his intimates. It is one thing for a ruler to have the awe of the mass of his people, his army—but if all those around him are grasped and held by such feelings, then he has set himself up for disaster when the illusion is shattered at his first defeat. Strength based on only an…aura is merely disguised weakness. And for those whose loyalty he most needs, to be abruptly exposed to the truth of this is sure to lead to—”

“He was strong,” interrupts Guts, his tone low. “He was a great swordsman, an’ he never lost a battle—”

“Never?” Silat’s eyes narrow. “If one never loses a battle, one is very lucky, very gifted at choosing weaker opponents, or blessed by the gods. Not strong.”

“Strength comes from hard-earned victories and salvaged defeats. We Bakiraka know better than anyone that to live is to fail.”

The wagon sways as Serpico steers the horses left, and there is silence for a few moments.

“Tell me,” says Silat, “you are none of you,” he shoots a glance at Guts, “fools. Why did Griffith command the loyalty of such as you?”

“He…” Casca sighs. “He could make people feel like the world, and what they could be in it, was bigger than they’d imagined….like they could do or be someone they’d only—”

“Understandable,” says Silat, “and dangerous, for all parties, to participate in belief—both believing and being believed in—to such a degree.”

Casca stares at him.

“And,” Rickert says, “Griffith did care. We were…like a family—”

“A divine presence and a caring elder brother?” Silat snorts. “Such a contradiction cannot be sustained. And besides, to lead one’s family into war is to compromise one’s own judgement, sooner or later. Still, I do take your point that these perceptions would have bred loyalty in his followers. His troops believed he cared enough about them to take them with him to glory.”

“As a leadership strategy it may have worked for a time, but would have turned against him in the end. When his true imperfection was revealed, such blind loyalty in most of his followers would be—”

“The Falcons,” interrupts Guts quietly, “that he branded, th…we knew how week he’d become, maybe…maybe always been. We stuck to him anyway—straight into hell.”[15]

Silat snorts. “And yet, it was only you to whom, at the height of his success, he showed something of his true face? With whom he was honest enough to discuss matters of judgement?”

Guts’ brow furrows. “I wouldn’ say ‘discus’…”

Silat shakes his head. “For an ordinary man to put so much upon a single person would be foolish. What if that person should die, or leave, or simply change their mind about spending a life in the shadow of one who threatens to subsume their own sense of self?[16]”

Guts flinches, very slightly.

“But,” Silat goes on, “for a leader to make himself so weak,” he grimaces, “this is not merely pitiable—it is contemptible.”

No one fills the silence after his words.

Rickert lowers his head. Then, something out the front catches his eye.

He jerks up. “I was staying here,”[17] he says to Serpico. Serpico halts the horses, then gets out to ask after Rickert’s friends. Silat, the only other adult who won’t risk being recognized, ends up holding the reins while Serpico is gone.

As Guts shifts around so Silat can get by him, he realizes the palace is just visible through the front opening of the wagon.

Serpico returns bearing directions to another district of the city, where Rickert’s friends have apparently moved.

The wagon is silent as they weave through the streets, passing through one gate, then another, Serpico showing guards the papers they got so they could move through the city.

A theatrical yawn comes from one of the bundles of cloth, and Puck sits up, stretching. He sticks a finger in her ear and rotates it. “Well, it’s much more comf’terble here,” Then the elf frowns. “Why’s everythin’ so quiet?”

The group looks awkward, but then Puck flits up to peek over the board at the wagon’s back. It’s then that they realize how hushed the streets around them have become. There are still people out, but none seem to be speaking. There are even children walking around, but they too seem quiet and restrained. An air of tension is everywhere.

Casca, Silat, and Rickert all slowly reach for weapons.

“There’s no indication of danger,” says Serpico, head turning to speak to them. “People in this area merely give the impression of hurry, or…disinterest in their surroundings.”

Guts’ eye meets Casca’s. She gives his armor, just visible poking out beneath the bundles, a pointed look. Guts grimaces and draws himself against the wagon’s side, clearing the way for the others to move more easily.

“Time to chance being recognized,” says Rickert grimly. He clambers up beside Serpico and calls to a passerby. The wagon halts as the man approaches, and they speak briefly. Rickert climbs into the back again. “He recognized my descriptions—we’re almost there,” he says, and Serpico turns the wagon as he speaks.

Rickert’s face is troubled. Serpico is driving the horses slightly faster than before.

“The man I spoke to,” Rickert says, “he didn’t….he just answered my questions in this flat tone, gave simple directions, no chatter, or sense of surprise, or interest or…”

“Was he perhaps afraid?” asks Schierke.

Rickert shakes his head. “He just seemed…empty.”

Serpico stops at a pair of gates at the end of a side street. Behind the bars, through a few trees, a modest manor house is visible.

Rickert climbs out and speaks to a teenage boy on the other side of the gates, then calls that he’ll be right back. The boy opens the gate and lets him through.

Guts reaches the end of his patience, and awkwardly sets to retrieving and putting on his armor. Everyone moves so he can do it, not speaking. The sunlight is starting to fade, and they can see that the people in the streets have started moving noticeably faster, shooting glances at the sky, as if they lived in a dangerous slum where being out after dark was inviting trouble, instead of in a well-to-do district of the safest city in the world.

The gates of the house soon swing open. “Rickert’s gesturing from the door,” says Serpico, lifting the reins and lightly snapping them. “It appears we have been granted admittance.”

The driveway curves slightly, so when Serpico halts the wagon before the house’s now-open front doors, the canvas blocks their view of the people there.

“C’mon, now,” says a woman’s voice from the direction of the doors. “Let’s get everyone inside before sundown. Rickert says you lot need shelter, and you won’t be turned away here.”

Guts’ head snaps toward the voice, and Puck shrieks and hurtles out the back of the wagon. Casca freezes halfway through standing up, her eyes wide.

Guts gives her an encouraging smile when her gaze meets his.

She pulls herself to her feet and steps toward the back of the wagon, where Silat is helping Schierke hop down.

“You!” cries Luca’s voice, obviously having just been accosted by Puck. “Wait, if you’re here, then are they—”

Casca reaches the wagon’s edge just as Luca rounds its side.

The women stare at each other for long moments. Luca’s mouth falls open.

“You…you’re…”

“I,” Casca swallows, clenching and unclenching her fists. “I remember you, you helped me,[18] but I…uh….I’m sorry, I don’t remember  your name…”

Luca’s eyes fill with tears.

She extends both hands up toward Casca, who slowly takes them.

“My name,” she says, voice thick with feeling, “is Luca. And I am very pleased to meet you, Casca.”[19]

Her eyes dart upward, toward the dying rays of the sun.

“And I look forward to speaking later,” she says, dropping Casca’s hands and gesturing to be given one of the bundles, “but we really must be getting inside now. George,” she calls, and a young man appears from around the side of the house. “See to the horses, then get yourself indoors.”

Guts finishes strapping on his sword and steps down from the wagon as Luca moves away. He turns to give Casca a hand, but she ignores it and hops down herself. She sways in her awkward dress, then rights herself. He smiles faintly.

“Mind the step,” calls Rickert as he leads the way into the house. They all lift their feet carefully over a board nailed to the bottom of the doorframe.

“Girls,” Luca calls as she drops a bundle in the front hall, “we’ve old friends come to visit!”

Casca, Guts, and Silat are inside the door, and Serpico’s moving luggage deeper into the hall.

Luca leans through the doorway and gestures towards Schierke and the elves, who are lingering by the abandoned wagon.

Schierke’s eyes are roving over the garden, tight and worried. “There is some…some spiritual presence…[20]”

Luca steps out and grabs her by the wrist. “No time, child,” she says as she drags Schierke into the house. Luca slams the door on the fading light, and begins to throw a series of bolts to lock it beyond hope of shifting.

Casca has found herself surrounded by shrieking females, who all call her Elaine, can’t believe she can talk, and are soon reminiscing about the things they had to stop her eating.[21] Ivarela flies over, looking interested.

Silat has taken a position standing straight against a wall by the door, observing everything sharply.

Serpico is helping a servant girl move their bags to the side of the room, out of the way.

Guts steps towards Schierke, who is still standing near the door, and catches her when she sways unsteadily. “You okay?”

Schierke’s eyes are wide, and she looks faintly ill. “I…I am uninjured, but…”

Rickert emerges from a door at the back of the hall, followed by the boy who took the horses. “The back’s all closed up, Luca,” he calls.

The boy quietly adds, “Sun’s down.”

Luca sighs, leaning back against the fortified door. “Well,” she says with a strained smile, “you’re quite welcome in our home, but I’m afraid before the night is out, you may wish otherwise.”

“What’s goin’ on?” asks Guts. Schierke is leaning against him, the elves hovering anxiously around her.

Luca’s face grows intense.

“We here are haunted,” she says, “by evil spirits.[22]”

[1] this scene is similar to that in V37 E333, and the crystals are seen there.

[2] What follows is the plan Griffith outlined in V41 E358

[3] ” this and what follows refer to V8 E29

[4] Guts knew the whole thing well in advance, as established in V8 E30

[5] V6 E8-9

[6] V6 E9-10

[7] V6 E10-11

[8] V6 E11-12

[9] see Griffith’s reaction to hearing Adonis died in V6 E12

[10] the following refers to events from V8 E29-E32

[11] V38 E339

[12] V9 E45

[13] V8 E32

[14] V5 E5

[15] V12 E73

[16] “own sense of self” is a restatement of something like what Guts says in V8 E33

[17] as seen in V38 E334

[18] V41 E359

[19] Casca and Luca met in V17 E132 and were together in many episodes up until V19 E144

[20] Schierke notices this kind of thing several times, notably in V28 E244-245 and V35 E311-312

[21] inspired by V18 E136

[22] V1 E0B

Chapter Text

When the bags are moved to spare rooms, everyone gathers in the kitchen for dinner. Luca says it’s not safe to be out after sunset, but inside the house they should have a few hours until there’s “cause for concern.”

In addition to Luca and her girls, four young teens live in the house. They’re all in the kitchen when the group arrives. They’re doing servant’s jobs, but they’re on a first-name basis with everyone except “Miss Luca” and the girls seem to treat them like younger siblings. But all four have a haunted look about their eyes. They serve the guests’ and girls’ food, then gather at the far end of the table to eat their own meal.

Rickert gapes at the massive array of food before them all. Puck and Ivarela have staked out a spot in the middle of the table, and are eating enough for two people each.[1]

“You’ve come up in the world, Luca,” comments Rickert finally.

“Well,” she says, head tilted to her right to look at him, “a pouchful of diamonds like the one Gramps gave us[2] goes a long way.”

She’s sitting at the head of the long table, around which they’ve all fit with only a little squashing. Rickert is to Luca’s right, Casca to her left. Guts, next to Casca, is also keeping an eye on Schierke, who looks slightly green in the chair beside him. Silat is across from Guts, leaving Serpico sitting across from Schierke and next to one of Luca’s girls (who is growing more interested in him as he grows visibly more uncomfortable).

Luca looks around the large kitchen regretfully. “Even diamonds don’t last forever, though. I had hoped to buy this place and set us up here as a more respectable class of prostitute.” [3] She sighs.

Casca’s mouth falls slightly open, and then her eyes grow faraway with memory. She utters a tiny, “oh.” Silat blinks, and Rickert blushes. Guts doesn’t react, Schierke and the elves don’t seem to notice, and Serpico, seated by Pepe, clearly did not need to be told this information.

“Unfortunately,” continues Luca, “we had only just begun to establish ourselves here when it all went wrong. It’s good that you’re here in the spring, at least. The winter was…” creases appear on her face, lines unusually deep for someone her age, “difficult.”

She takes a deep breath to clear her mind, then looks around at her guests. “When it began last fall, no one understood what was happening or why. I was able to gather what I’m telling you over the course of several weeks, by piecing together bits and pieces. Much of what I know was concluded based on the information brought by our wards,” she smiles at the four teens at the end of the table, who are intently focused on their food, “all of whom,” her smile fades, “were orphaned by the evil spirits.”

Her eyes fall on Serpico and the girl beside him. “Pepe, leave him be!” she calls immediately, her voice oddly sharp. Pepe pouts as she withdraws, and Serpico, color rising slightly, turns to the others with his full attention.

“There are certain rules,” Luca says, calm and now matter-of-fact, “which you must follow while you are here.”

“Firstly, you must not exit the house after sundown. Those out after dark are often never seen again. The ones who are, don’t live long. They’re like sleepwalkers, like living dead people.”

“The man who gave us directions,” mutters Rickert, “like that.”

Luca continues. “After darkness has set in, we will work together to ensure the house’s safety. Two people will guard each external door to ensure no rats sneak in.”

Rickert frowns, thinking Rats? Casca blinks in confusion, but Luca doesn’t seem to notice either of their reactions.

“Windows will also need to be guarded against rats. Any rat that gets into the house must be killed immediately.”

“In addition, sex before dawn,” Luca glares at Pepe, who looks at her soup. “Is strictly forbidden.”

“And, finally, it is of vital importance that none of you fall asleep in the hours of darkness.”

“What,” asks Silat immediately, “are the consequences if we do?”

Luca folds her hands in front of her face, elbows propped on the table.

“There are three possibilities. One is that you will merely never wake up. This is by far the best outcome. The second is that you will wake up raving mad, and attempt to attack, rape, or even eat anyone you see.[4] That is what happened to George’s father,” she nods at the boy who took the horses, “and how the rest of his family was killed. He survived because he spent the night at another house.”

“The third possibility is that you will awaken empty. You may speak, go about your daily activities, but there will be…nothing left of you. Similar to what happens when people survive being out after dark but…worse. Much worse.”

Her hands clench together, gaze growing distant. “Before the residents of this neighborhood realized these rules could protect us, when we were still going about our normal activities…the terror of those days, when understanding anything about why these things happened was impossible…”

She shakes her head, her attention returning to the newcomers. “In those days, enough people were sleeping, having sex, going out, and treating rats as a mere nuisance that one of these acts alone would not have a definite result of death. But now, almost everyone still alive in this section of the city follows these rules—so anyone who breaks one is sure to be struck down.”

Her voice lowers slightly. “Aldid’s parents didn’t follow the rules. I tried to tell them, but…It seems her parents had sex. Her father killed her mother, then all the siblings but her. She had to kill him to survive.” Luca’s watching a twitchy red-headed girl who can’t be older than thirteen. Then she nods at the boy who opened the gate. “The same thing happened to Doran’s parents, only it was his mother…”

“And rats: they are a normal part of life in most cities of this size, but not in our district. If one of them manages to get in a house, soon there will inexplicably be infinite rats, and they’ll overrun and devour everyone and everything. That’s what happened to Vanya’s family,” she indicates the tallest girl. “She escaped by cramming herself up a chimney until dawn.”

Rickert shakes his head. “But…Falconia is meant to be safe from just this kind of…surely, if the authorities knew—”

Luca snorts derisively. “It could be dismissed as random crime and madness at first. But once the people here realized these things were only happening in our district…well, I tried to move us out, but none of the guilds[5] would give us permission to settle in their areas. This district doesn’t have a permanent guild yet, which gives the others an excuse to delay accepting us until ‘the proper paperwork can be acquired from your guild.’” She sighs. “It’s the same with everyone.”

“And it’s not just that. The guards at the district gates only let a set number of people through each day, and never whole families or households. Usually only people with work in another district can leave. I’ve no idea what the guards must think of that—they were probably told there’s some network of heretics being isolated and hunted in this district or something.”

“And there are often houses empty here, of course, with all the deaths. But they’re never empty long. The civil authorities move new people in quickly, within a day or two of someone reporting the house empty or finding the previous inhabitants’ bodies. I have a few people I trust in other parts of the district, and we try to spot and warn new residents. But we often don’t reach them before sundown or they don’t believe us…or…”

Luca shrugs, her eyes hard. “We follow our rules, and most of the neighborhood now survive each night. But of course, it is impossible to know, when a whole household is dead, if they were killed because one of them disobeyed the rules, or if the rules merely…”

A glint of anger sparks in her eyes. “All in all, it seems the city has decided that we living here be sacrificed.”

The room fills with tension at the last word. Guts stops chewing, his fork touching his plate as his hand falls.

Casca, without looking over, reaches out and puts her hand over his.

Luca notices the movement, and her eyebrows rise. “Well, enough of this talk,” she says, lowering her hands and giving Casca a pointed look. “How have you fared? And how in the world did folk like you,” her eyes sweep around them, “who clearly aren’t really refugees, end up here?”

Casca glances at Guts, then Rickert. Both nod.

“We’re here,” Casca says quietly, “to…” she laughs, hollowly, “I suppose to end all of this.”

Luca’s eyebrows rise further. “Quite the ambition.”

Casca turns to Rickert. “I, uh, don’t know what Rickert’s…”

“I’m sorry, Luca,” says Rickert. Down the table, the elves and Luca’s girls have begun to bicker over the last of the food. He drops his voice. “I was not entirely honest about the disagreement I had with Griffith that made me leave the city. ”[6]

As he continues, Lucette, sitting on Schierke’s left, begins urging the young witch to eat more. When Schierke, having grudgingly accepted a meat pie, turns back to the others, Rickert has already finished his abridged explanation of the sacrifice and Griffith’s true nature.

Luca’s face is pale. “Your choice to leave the city was correct in more ways than one.” Her eyes turn to Guts and Casca. “So you two were among those who—”

Guts nods. “That’s where these,” he taps the brand on the back of his neck,[7] “came from.”

“So you’re here for revenge?” asks Luca.

Casca shakes her head. “It’s more complicated than that. But we are…we are here to kill Griffith.” The words are rushed, but her voice doesn’t shake.

“The city…” says Luca, frowning.

“If he’s gone, that should stop what’s happenin’ here,” says Guts.

Luca nods slowly, clearly thinking hard. “And send the whole city into chaos. Lord Griffith isn’t just ruler here, he’s a religious figure.”

Guts snorts. “Yeah well, gods an’ devils’re pretty much the same in the end.[8]”

Luca nods again, her eyes tightening. “It was always a foolish risk for everyone to pour so much into one person,” she says.

Casca’s eyes dart involuntarily to Silat, who is stone-faced.

“So,” says Luca intently, eyes fixing on Guts, “you think Griffith’s…what, cursed those of us living here?”

Guts shrugs. “This shit’s not really his style. Prob’ly some of his apostles—”

“It is not,” says Schierke firm, “their work.”

All eyes turn to her. Ivarela (noticeably fatter than before) is trying to coax the witch to drink from a goblet, but clearly failing. Schierke’s face is more pale than ever as she meets their gazes.

“These are not the actions of mere apostles. This is the influence of them.”

She looks at Guts as his eye widens. “The other members of the God Hand.”

Luca looks confused and alarmed. The air grows so tense that the girls fall quiet too.

“You’re sayin’,” says Guts, his gaze hard, his hand a fist, and the cloak over the back of his chair beginning to subtly twitch, “they’re here?”

“Guts,” says Casca quietly, her hand moving to his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“They are not,” says Schierke, “beings with a single presence which allows them to truly be in a single physical place. Unlike Griffith since his incarnation, they are in many places, to different degrees, at a single time. ”[9]

“With the world outside the city so disordered…by now, much of what remains of humanity out there must be concentrating on moving to this place. Since the goal of the God Hand in creating that disorder,” Luca’s eyebrows shoot up, “is to drive them here and have their lives become intertwined with the Falcon’s, it would be counterproductive for them to exert direct trauma, like that being experienced here, on those who have not yet arrived.”

“But understand, the angels…they are creatures of humanity, the metaphysical products of dark stains in human nature…” Schierke shakes her head. “Now that they have the capacity to affect humans so deeply, to not act on that, to instead content themselves with the manipulation of trolls or ogres[10] or rats[11]—this would be against their natures.”

“You warned us,” she looks at Luca, “against sleep, physical relations, and rats. Each of these dangers corresponds to one of the angels. One rules the unconscious mind, one rules the body, and one rules…” she sighs, “it is hard to define, but it rules the web of interconnection among people which binds them together, and which becomes a vector of our death when touched by diseases such as those carried by rats.[12]”

Sitting on the table, Puck clutches his head and quietly cries for mercy.

Schierke ignores him and continues. “These three angels must be the ones responsible for what is taking place here.”

“It is,” says Serpico grimly, “a clever strategy. The God Hand may exercise their nature in contained areas such as this one, remaining ‘sated,’ while also carrying out their tasks in the world at large.”

“It has risks, though,” says Silat. “After all, this is happening in a district of a city which exists based on the belief that humankind is only safe here.”

“That belief,” says Luca grimly, “is part of how this remains hidden. No one believes what’s happening here, no one wants to. Those who have tried to spread word or alert the authorities have all vanished within a night.”

“Which is evidence of a connection between the city leadership and these terrors,” responds Silat. “All the more—”

“You don’t understand,” interrupts  Luca, shaking her head. “The prosperity here would be forfeit if the safety of the city was proved an illusion. If the safety of the city were less than absolute, it’s not even only that he human race could appear doomed. Above all else: If the city’s safety is a lie, then an aspect of Lord Griffith is a lie. And to suggest that isn’t just…it borders on heresy. Before long, the pope will probably say it is heresy.[13]”

The discussion continues, but Casca realizes Guts isn’t listening.

Where his arm hangs between their chairs, his fist is clenching. She can’t see his eye, but his jaw is tight, his facial muscles twitching.

She slowly reaches down and wraps her hand around his fist. Tightly.

He starts. Turns his head so he can see her.

She fixes his gaze. “Don’t go for them,” she says quietly, “until we have our son.”

Guts takes a deep breath. Casca doesn’t pause to let him speak.

“It isn’t worth the risk. You’re our best weapons. If you get injured and need to recover, it’ll cost time and risk Griffith tracking us down. And if you did kill one of them, it’d alert the others we’re here, bring them all against us at once. There’s a slim chance of victory, and a disproportionately high risk to either failure or success. ”[14]

“Do not go looking for them.”

Guts exhales, slowly. Casca’s eyes don’t waver from his face.

Finally, he gives a small nod.

Casca smiles, slightly, strained. Then she bends, and her forehead presses against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

Guts’ eye widens, then softens. He moves his hand, gently squeezes her fingers.

Casca’s thumb brushes his hand. Then she straightens and turns back to the table. She grabs the last piece of uneaten meat, brushes Puck away when he tries to snatch it, and drops the cutlet onto Guts’ plate.

“Eat,” she says to him, firmly, then turns to speak to Luca.

Guts smiles, a bit ruefully, and doesn’t argue. He tears off his first bite as Casca asks Luca about the household’s strategy for the night.

“We usually split up, with two guarding the back door, two the front door, and the others checking the windows in patrols of two or three,” answers Luca. “We’ve been lucky so far: a rat tried to gnaw through one of the boards covering the bottom door crack last month, but we were able to—”

“You have been more fortunate than you know,” interrupts Schierke. “The dark energies are not directed most strongly toward the doors. The spiritual pressure is coming most fiercely from above and below. I expect rats amass belowground in the sewers, while the angel who seeks the mind is most comfortable spreading his consciousness through the higher region, above us. As to the third, it exists as an undercurrent and will manifest whenever there is a strong passion for worldly flesh, specifically physical or violent lust.”

Luca’s eyes are wide and impressed when the girl finishes. “What would you suggest we do, Miss Witch?” she asks politely.

Schierke colors slightly, but says “Board up all chimneys, unless they are guarded by a roaring fire. Provided no one sleeps, that should prevent entry from above. If the inhuman one in the air wished to, it could overcome such barriers—but without a reason to target us, it should move on.”

Casca glances at Guts, who pointedly takes another bite of meat. Her mouth twitches, then she focuses again on what Schierke’s saying.

“We should also guard the cellar. There should be some sentries posted at doors or windows, but most attention ought to be paid to those openings nearest the sky or the earth.”

Luca is already standing up. “George, Pepe, Lucie, Doran,” she calls down the table like a drill sergeant. All four sit bolt upright and turn to her. “Board up the chimneys, now!” They leave the table, quick and unquestioning. “Fouquet, Vanya, Aldid, prepare wood to stoke the kitchen fire for the night, then ready our provisions to stay awake.” The others scurry off, and she sits down.

“Provisions?” asks Rickert.

Luca nods. “Spicy food is quite useful for staying awake when one is near dozing.”

Guts stretches his shoulders. “I’ll guard the basement,” he says. “Even with the spell on it, this thing,” he taps his covered brand, “’ll give me a warnin’ if somethin’s comin’.”

Casca’s eyes tighten, then she nods. “I should probably be upstairs then, right Schierke?”

The witch shakes her head. “You should patrol more generally, Casca, to increase the odds of detecting an unforeseen entry.” Her last word is almost swallowed by a huge yawn.

Luca smiles slightly. “Miss Witch, perhaps you should follow a complementary route to Casca’s and patrol as well? And keep on your feet?”

“Ye—” Schierke covers another yawn, then shoots a slightly annoyed look at Luca. She sighs. “I suppose that would be the best use of my time before dawn.”

“An’ you,” says Guts, plucking Puck off the table, “come with me. I’ll keep you from dozin’ off.”

Puck groans, yawning. “The magic may not even affect elves!’ he complains.

Guts grunts, unmoved. “We don’ know that, an’ we’re not gonna learn it when you start comin’ at us with an ax.”

He puts Puck on his shoulder, then reaches to strap on his sword, which was left leaning against the wall. “It’ll be jus’ like old times, stayin’ up all night to keep off evil spirits.”

Puck moans. “Does that mean I’m gonna have to keep you in line all night?’

“’Keep me in’—what?”

“’In line!’ Stop you from goin’ all berserk an’ crazy an’—”

“That ain’t anythin’ like—”

“Please, you’d ‘ave been a complete monster without me around!” The elf’s head swivels. “Right Rickert?”

Guts glances at the younger man, eyebrows rising.

“Uh…” Rickert looks awkward, “well, I might’ve said at one point…[15]”

Guts cuts in, “I need someone who can actually swing a sword to watch my back down there.” Rickert’s eyes widen. “C’mon,” Guts adds to make the point.

Rickert’s mouth opens…then he grins. “Be right there, just gotta get some things.” He hurries out the door ahead of Guts. Serpico follows Guts and Rickert out, quietly saying he’ll guard the front door. Silat has managed to disappear without anyone noticing.

As the others leave, Luca wraps an arm around Casca. “I’ll keep you company while you patrol.” She smiles warmly. “It will give us the chance to catch up. I would very much like to hear how you returned to yourself, Casca, if you are comfortable telling me.”

Casca hesitates. “I…I remember you took very good care of me,” she says slowly. “The place we were in…” Casca gazes intently at Luca. “You didn’t have to help me, you didn’t know me at all, and that place…” she shakes her head. “Why did you do it?”

Luca looks surprised. “You needed help,” she says. “You certainly couldn’t look after yourself.”

“But…what you did to protect me…someone you didn’t even know—”

Luca is looking at her intently. Smiling slightly, and puts a hand on the other woman’s shoulder to halt her words.

“I knew,” she says, “that you were a lone woman in a viper’s pit. You needed help, and I could help you. There was nothing else to know.”

She hesitates, glancing down, then looking back at Casca. “You don’t owe me anything, you know, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Casca’s eyes widen. Then she smiles. “I…I guess I just…” she sighs. “Thank you. For taking care of me—and for helping Guts get to me.”

Luca’s smile deepens. “I would quite like to know more about how that went, too.”

Casca contemplates the long hours until dawn. “I guess we have time.”

[1] see V24 E201 and V29 E253

[2] V38 E341

[3] Worth noting this was not mentioned in V38, but was a big part of V18

[4] This is inspired by people’s behavior while possessed by evil spirits, particularly in V20 E163

[5] guilds as the center of life in Falconia is based on V38 E 334

[6] Rickert told Luca about this in V38 E338

[7] Luca understands this gesture because of V19 E145

[8] This refers most directly to V5 E7

[9] V18 E142

[10] V26 E219

[11] V17 E126

[12] this is cobbled-together/inferred from the various appearances of the God Hand, their behaviors at those appearances, and the actions that are ascribed to them in sections like Conviction

[13] see V32 E285

[14] this little monologue is inspired by V10 E51

[15] V17 E131

Chapter Text

Guts glances around as the lit torch illuminates the disorganized boxes in the basement. He uses his flame to light a wall torch at the room’s back, then pulls a single crate into the middle of the room and sits on it, laying his sword over his knees.

Rickert soon arrives, carrying a full bag and a lit lamp. He puts the lamp on a crate, then sits on the floor and unpacks some tools, setting up a makeshift workspace.

“No use wasting time,” he explains.

Puck flies over to him, and Rickert flinches, then grins guiltily. Puck glares at him, but decides to take the high path, chin uplifted to highlight his magnanimity.

The basement grows quiet. Puck flies around to stay awake, saying little (unusually). He senses the deep anxiety of the whole neighborhood. The only sounds are his wings and the soft clinking of Rickert’s tools.

Guts is looking down at his sword. “Rickert,” he says quietly. “I…I wanna apologize.”

Rickert’s head jerks up, and he stares at the other man. Guts’ head doesn’t move.

“They…the Falcons who died at the Eclipse: they were your comrades, too,” he says. “I shouldn’t ‘ave…I shoulda told you about Griffith sacrificin’ ‘em from the beginning. That was your right t’know. I’m sorry.”

Rickert stares at him for a long moment.

Then he bows his head. “I understand why you didn’t. I was a kid, really, and…and there was so much…”

Guts runs a finger down the blade of his sword. “You were right back then,” he says. “I shoulda stayed.”

Rickert looks over at him, smiling faintly. “Which time?[1]”

Guts snorts. “Both. I…” he shakes his head, “I didn’t understand what I was tossin’ from the palm of my hand,[2] not until it was already…” He closes his eye in shame. “You did. I shoulda listened.”

Rickert’s brow furrows. The silence stretches. He starts to turn, to pick up another tool. Then he stops, and moves to face Guts.

“Why did you leave the Band of the Falcon, Guts?”

Guts blinks. Then he chuckles faintly. “I didn’t tell ya, did I?”[3] He sighs. “I wanted…somethin’ for myself. Somethin’ that’d just be me. Mine.”

“All I’d ever known was killin’, without much reason behind it but not dyin’. I wanted somethin’…somethin’ I could win for myself. Somethin’ more’n…”

“More than us,” Rickert finishes quietly.

“Nah, not like that,” says Guts sadly. “I was too blind to…nah, I wanted a dream.” His head rises, his gaze faraway. “Somethin’ that’d make me Griffith’s equal. Somethin’ that’d…that’d keep me from just livin’ in his shadow. From bein’ buried in his dream.”

Neither man speaks for a few moments.

“I…I can understand that,” says Rickert quietly.

“That’s why I left,” says Guts, a note of bitterness in his voice. “Both times. Chasin’ somethin’…” he swallows, fist clenching, “Somethin’ that’d make him see me. As an equal.”

The last words are faint.

Guts remembers standing in front of Gambino’s sword as it hurled forward. Tryin’ to make him appreciate…[4]

Remembers facing Griffith, that winter morning.[5]

Remembers the boy, back on the island. Wearing his breastplate, waving a stick at him.[6]

His eyes wide and unreadable. As always.

Guts closes his own eye, bows his head.

“Did you find it?”

He looks at Rickert. The young man’s face shows complex feelings.

“What you were chasing. Did you find it?”

Guts snorts. “Nah.” He looks down at his sword. “I just…found more of myself.[7] An’ I…” His fist clenches. “I didn’ understand what I was doin’ by leavin’. To him, Griffith, by leavin’ like that. “

“I…I shoulda stayed. I…I shouldn’t ‘ave tried to be more than…”

Rickert is quiet. His eyes are distant, gazing at the flame of his lamp. Then he looks back at Guts.

“I wonder,” he says, “if it would’ve made a difference in the end.”

Guts stares at him.

“Silat,” Rickert continues, “some of what he said….What if you had stayed? And helped Griffith keep pretending to be more than…than a man?”

“Would you even have been able to do that? Really? Or would you eventually have…”

Rickert swallows. “That night the queen died,[8] and Griffith asked you that question. If you’d told him that yes, he was cruel—how can you know what he would’ve done? Whether he would’ve listened—or would’ve resented you?

Guts is silent. Creases are appearing on his face, and Puck is gawking, openmouthed, at Rickert. The elf actually seems lost for words.

“Don’t get me wrong,” adds Rickert. “I…I wish you hadn’t left us. But Griffith, that day[9]…insisting on fighting you, falling apart when you left…Silat’s right. He made himself weak. He shoulda done better for us.”

Rickert sighs. “And so should you,” he says bluntly. “But, realistically…I wonder how much...how much was really…”

Guts stands up, silencing him. A trickle of blood is falling from his covered brand, and Rickert becomes aware of an odd scratching sound.

Guts grins at him. “Looks like it’s time us exterminators earned our keep.”

---------

“Congratulations,” says Luca, smiling, “on your wedding, Casca.”

They’re at a window in the attic. It faces east, and the sky is finally starting to lighten with the sunrise.

Casca smiles. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad it worked out between you,” Luca says, leaning on the windowpane. “I was worried, honestly. Protecting someone and being with them, they’re not the same thing.[10] One’s a lot harder. I didn’t know if he’d manage both.”

“Oh, he didn’t,” says Casca, smiling faintly. “He tried. He tried so hard…but it was a wreck. I was a wreck, he was a wreck…He couldn’t cope.[11] It…”

Casca looks very sad, eyes distant. “I used to blame myself. And he probably still blames himself…But it was no one’s fault, really.”

Luca’s eyebrows rise. “So then, how—”

“He got help,” says Casca, looking out the window. “He changed…everything, I think, about the way he’d been living.[12] That’s how we ended up with so many people around to help us. That’s why I could get back to myself, in the end.”

Casca’s smile is deep and warm. “Even when…when everything was…He found a way to change. For me. So I’d be okay.”

Luca frowns faintly. “Do you think he’ll change back?” she asks seriously. “Change is, after all, quite difficult.”

Casca’s smile fades. But not completely. Her eyes are a bit sad.

“Maybe,” she admits. “And I…I might change back, to….” Her smile vanishes. “But, Guts,” she lowers her head a little. “He doesn’t want to change back. To be…that one part of himself that almost made the rest of him...”

And I would never change back like that either,  Casca thinks. …right?

Her eyes drift closed.

“Guts reacted,” she says quieted, “and became that to survive. Just like I became,” she smiles at Luca as her eyes open, “Elaine.”[13]

Luca smiles a bit at the name, but her brow is furrowed in confusion.

“What could—” she shakes her head, holding up a hand. “Never mind, it’s none of my business.”

Casca hesitates, then clasps Luca’s hand.

“I…” she squeezes the other woman’s fingers. Presses the hand to her forehead.

“I do want to tell you,” she says, and finds that it’s true.

It’s not an obligation, like with the others. I want to tell this person everything, so that she knows…and so she, who never knew Griffith and barely knows Guts…maybe she can…

Casca’s eyes meet Luca’s, then she glances at the sun. It’s just broken the horizon.

“In,” she snorts, “the morning.”

Luca smiles, and her fingers squeeze Casca’s gently. “Whatever you want.”

[1] V8 E34 and V14 E94

[2] V17 E130

[3] What follows restates (often with close paraphrases) scenes in V6 E12, V7 E22, and V8 E33-35

[4] V6 E11

[5] V8 E35

[6] V41 E364

[7] a new perspective on what he said in V10 E48

[8] see V32 E08, and Rickert is also getting insight into something he doesn’t know about in E34, when Griffith told Guts he’d only show his ‘true’ colors to Guts, who would presumably keep up the assassinations he hated.

[9] V8 E34-36

[10] V21 E176

[11] V23 E187-190

[12] V23 E191 and V39 E349

[13] this is the name given to Casca by the girls in V18 E136 and used by Casca again to describe her potatoself in V40 E355

Chapter Text

“I like her a lot,” Casca tells Guts as they prepare for bed. “I trust her.”

Guts, shirtless, unbuckles his prosthetic. “Luca’s a decent person,” he says quietly. “I…when I showed up at that camp, dunno if you remember but I was pretty frightenin’ back then. Still, Luca only hesitated a second ‘fore she took me to you[1] when I asked. An’ she had people there she trusted,[2] an’ they were there to help you when I wasn’t.”[3]