Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

        “These are our terms.”

        Clive wouldn’t stop now.  Despite grief and fear and tears, he wouldn’t stop.  To stop would dishonor the memory of those who died.  Cid, the man who saved him.  Dion, the man with a story he knew too well.  Joshua, the reason his heart wanted to burst.  To stop would dishonor the wishes of those waiting for them.  Even if he never saw them again.  If he never saw Jill again.  This was what it meant to live and die on their own terms.  They all knew.  They all were prepared.  They had all put their hopes and dreams and wishes for the future on Clive.  He would never forsake that.

        Your own terms.

        And so with renewed determination he poured more and more aether through his body.  Every bit of aether he could summon went to the future.  The flames around him burned for the first time he could remember and he screamed.  He screamed with pain.  He screamed with determination.  If this is what it took he would endure any torment.

        Endure it.

        This was the end of it all and the start of it all.  This world would survive.  Humans were capable of so much.  Clive had seen both the best and worst they had to offer and he chose to hold them to their best now.  They would live.  He knew this for fact.  They didn’t need Eikons or magic.  All they needed was each other and those they loved.  Hold those dear to you close and you can do anything.

        Hold them close.

        Live.

        Clive would be the first to admit he didn’t fully understand what he was doing with all this aether.  Instinct drove him.  The flames he chose to consign the old world to drove him onward.  They pushed him forward like the hundreds of invisible hands he could feel at his back doing exactly the same.  It was so much.  He never could have hoped to withstand it alone.  If only this amount of aether could bring back those he’d lost to it.  Magic might have been good for something at least.

        Life.

        The sheer agony was fading as the aether continued to flow in an endless flood.  It was hard to concentrate on anything.  At this point there wasn’t much of him left; he was more conduit than caster.  Little by little his being was swallowed in the flames like everything else. 

        Who…?

        These flames could take him if they wished.  The flames of Ifrit.  Of the Phoenix.  Of Rosaria.  He would burn himself up along with the rest to remake the world.

        Remake?  The world?

        This was the duty he had chosen instead of the one fate tried to force upon him.  To forge a better life for them all.

        Better?

        From here on their choices would be on their own terms.  Clive couldn’t ask for more. 

        “These are our terms.”  It was the last thought he had before the flames burned him away.

        Your own terms. 

        Duty.

        Remake the world.

        Life.

        Love.

        Flames.

        Endure.

“Your terms.  Are.  Unacceptable.”

        Flames exploded through the room, through the whole of Origin, wiping away everything in their path. Straight to the sky they rose and spread across all of Valisthea.  People looked up at the sky everywhere, from Stonhyrr to the Velkroy, the Northern territories to Kanver, the Iron Kingdom to Oriflamme.  Any living creature who looked to the sky could see those flames dancing like the aurora fabled in the northern lands.  It should have been a sign of the end.  What else could it possibly be?  Yet not a single soul who gazed upon the impossible was alarmed. 

        It was beautiful and calm, floating elegantly and effortlessly.  Streaks of purple mixed with the orange.  Blues mixed with the yellow.  Green speckled it all in a mosaic.  It pulsed as if alive.  Thump.  Thump.  Thump.  Thump.  Those who looked to the sky that night saw a masterful painting they committed to memory to share with their children.  But a few who watched heard an unearthly cry pierce the heavens and rattle their bones before it vanished entirely.

        Clive was somewhat vaguely aware of himself.  He could hear and see nothing nor could he move anything.  What he was aware of was confusing and jumbled.  He felt heavy, heavier than Titan’s stones, and yet light at the same time, carried by Garuda’s winds.  The heat of Ifrit suffused him until he thought he might burn while Shiva’s ice cooled him.  Odin’s own darkness surrounded him only broken by Bahamut’s own light racing past leaving afterimages like Ramuh’s lightning flashing in the night sky.

        It was chaos both within and without and yet he felt completely calm.  Racing forward while lying perfectly still.  Recalling his entire life in perfect detail but barely clinging to his own name.  He had no idea what was happening to him and no desire to think on it.  Whatever awaited on the other side of this existence he would deal with later.  He was just so incredibly tired…

        “Your terms.  Are.  Unacceptable.”  The whisper flitted through his consciousness at lightning speed and vanished into the chaos without him really grasping the words.

        Time didn’t seem to have any meaning here.  Until it did.  With a heavy jolt every conflicting feeling ceased.  The innumerable contradictions, the rush of images, even his exhaustion.  His memories began returning to their rightful place slowly.  Somehow he felt like he was settling into a bed tailored only for him.  It was comfortable.  Familiar.  Yet somehow also a little off.

        “Clive!”  He heard a man shout.

        “Get up, Clive!” a boy called.  At least he thought it was two people.  The voices sounded far away.  He wasn’t completely sure he’d heard them. 

        Founder, his head hurt.  Where even was he?  The hideaway seemed too much to hope for if people were calling his name.  Something had probably gone wrong.  What was the last thing he remembered, anyway?  What had he been doing before this?

        “I do not think all is well, my lord.”  That voice sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place it.  It was familiar but also wrong.  Something about it was off, much like everything at the moment.  “My lord, please step out of the ring a moment.  I may need some space to work.”

        “I mean no disrespect, Your Highness, but a bucket of water is enough.  He’ll be fine.  I promise.”

        “I pray you are correct, Lord Murdoch.”  Clive’s shallow breathing halted.  Those voices.  He did know them.  They’d haunted his dreams for years.  It was completely impossible to be hearing them now.  Lord Murdoch died eighteen years ago.  And that other voice was…

        This was impossible.  Except it wasn’t the first time those he loved had been used against him.  That was the only explanation.  Ultima was trying again.  Clive had nearly succumbed the last time.  Now to be faced with such illusions again he would not be swayed.  He was furious at the audacity.  He forced his eyes open, staring dazedly at a clear blue sky.  The white walls of Rosalith’s bailey surrounded him.  He couldn’t let his gaze linger on them.  He wouldn’t let Ultima have the satisfaction of seeing his distress when his home burned again.  Ignoring the aches and pains he rolled over and pushed himself onto one knee.

        What he saw justified his anger.  Lord Murdoch stood on the opposite side of the training ring with a bucket in hand.  Looking very much alive.  Clive felt a pang of guilt as he always would thinking about the Lord Commander but right now he just glared, disgusted by this latest attempt to control him.  Beside Lord Murdoch stood Joshua, ten years old again and looking at Clive with strangely knowing eyes.  Clive mentally shook that thought away from himself.  He was seeing what he wanted to see.  Joshua was dead.  The copy of his brother stepped in front of the Lord Commander and raised an arm protectively.

        “It is as I feared.  Lord Murdoch, I discovered a mishap in which my brother was accidentally given an improper herb as a curative.  This herb has been known to cause hallucinations when ingested.  I ask you again to exit the ring and allow me to aid my brother.  Please move the other Shields back and assure them all will be well.”  Founder that didn’t sound right.  An adult’s speech from a child’s mouth.  Ultima was getting sloppy.

        Murdoch looked between the brothers as if to protest yet strangely didn’t.  Perhaps it was Clive’s glares or Joshua’s fixed scrutiny of his brother.  Either way, while he didn’t leave, he did back away to say something to another Shield.  Clive nearly growled when he recognized the other Shield as one who died at Phoenix Gate.  Joshua moved into his line of sight to distract him from the others.  He moved slowly, arms held unthreateningly out at his sides.  A threat it may not have been, but Clive was more than ready to rip this whole illusion apart with Ifrit’s claws.

        “Clive.  It’s alright.”  Joshua dared a small step forward but halted when Clive scowled at him, recoiling slightly.

        “You’ll have to do better than this.  You should know by now what using my brother against me will gain you in the end.  Accept your defeat and begone.”  Sword absent, Clive looked to magic.  He felt the Eikonic fragments he carried stir within his chest at his prodding.

        “Peace, Brother.  This is no illusion.  You already ended Ultima, did you not?”  Hands still at his sides he stepped forward again.

        “Not completely, it would seem,” Clive growled. 

        “Please, Clive.  Look around you.  See where you stand.”

        “I have seen Rosalith burn too many times to believe it stands now.”  Joshua’s eyes tightened.  “How many times will you try these same tricks?  How many times must I put you down before this ends, Ultima?  I will not be what you want.  Accept it!”  The kindness on this specter’s face only made Clive more angry that he’d chosen it.  The wound of Joshua’s passing was too deep and far, far too recent.  Clive reached for Ramuh, lightning crackling to life in his palm. 

        “Do not force my hand, Brother,” the specter warned.  He remained silent and still a long moment, a temporary standoff as he studied Clive.  “Please, put it away.”  Clive scoffed.  As if he would listen to the advice of an illusion. 

        As soon as the sound was out of his mouth the specter cloaked himself in ephemeral flames, moving faster than anyone could see to stand right in front of Clive.  With no hesitation Joshua grabbed his shoulders and shoved as hard as he could to topple Clive over onto his back.  Hands on Clive’s wrists, straddling his chest, and short legs doing their best to keep Clive’s pinned, Joshua held him there.

        “Brother you must listen to me!  I know you are confused.  I share that sentiment.  We will address our circumstances at a more appropriate time after you realize that this is no illusion.  I am real as is everything you see here.  Everything about this bothers me, but I swear to you, Clive, this is not what you think!” 

        Clive’s hand trembled uncertainly under Joshua’s.  There was sincerity in his eyes that Ultima never used.  He didn’t understand the concept.  Those words finally reached him but it wasn’t what made him tremble.  Joshua’s eyes begged him to listen.  To trust him.  Clive blinked.  Suddenly he didn’t see his small little brother.  Rather it was his full adult size which pinned Clive to the ground.  Clive’s breath caught in his throat.  Another blink and the image was gone.  He slammed his eyes shut for a moment and shook his head, some small doubt dowsing his fury.

        “Joshua?” he whispered.  The lightning in his palm evaporated.  His brother climbed off of him and helped him sit upright.

        “I know not how, but yes.”  He glanced over his shoulder to see how far away Murdoch was.  Deciding it was space enough, he spoke softly.  “I remember giving you the Phoenix and then nothing else until waking here this morning.  I thought I had woken in some bizarre afterlife.  Yet it was all too familiar.  I have been here some few hours now.  Time enough to believe this is both real and in our past.”  Clive stared in disbelief, mind still trying to wrap itself around this information.  “Ah.  Come here.  The lie I told will need be resolved.”  Joshua summoned his flames easily and pressed them to Clive’s chest.  They did little, of course, in absence of a real ailment, though it did relieve some remaining pain in his head.  “We need play the part a while longer I fear.  Do you know what day this is?” 

        For the first time he looked around.  If this was real and not an illusion, then he should know.  Jill stood outside the ring looking at him worriedly.  Lord Murdoch stood watching the proceedings with a training sword in one hand and forgotten bucket in the other, looking wary.  There were fewer Shields around than usual.  Some of them must have been out.  What he could see from this spot was so minor and insignificant but they were all things he’d thought of often once upon a time.

        “Don’t tell me…”

        “I believe so, yes.  The day before Phoenix Gate.  Have you looked down, by the way?”  Joshua smirked while Clive looked down.  No wonder he felt lighter.  He, too, once again looked younger.

        “That explains a few things,” he quipped with a small laugh and a smile.  Joshua laughed softly then extinguished his flames.  He stood, Clive following.  He’d never thought to see this sight again.  Part of him didn’t want to.  What came next was too painful even now.  When he looked down at Joshua a more serious expression had gripped his brother as he looked out over the tents.

        “If this is real, Clive…  Do you think we could do something?” Joshua looked up to lock eyes with him.  If they were truly, somehow, in their own past, just maybe…

        “Real or not we have to try.  We’d never forgive ourselves if we didn’t.”  Activity pulled their attention away from each other.  Approaching the ring was their mother.  They both unconsciously tensed.

        “We need play the part a little longer,” Joshua repeated.  “We know too little to act rashly.”

        “I fear you speak true.  I’ll take care of the Lord Commander if you handle her.”  Joshua nodded and left the ring, walking as if he still carried his full height and presence.  Clive, meanwhile, strode to Lord Murdoch, who had finally put down the bucket and was placing the training sword in the rack.

        “Are you well now, my lord?” he asked in a hushed tone.

        “I am, thanks to my brother’s quick action.  I apologize for alarming you.”  Murdoch eyed him carefully.

        “Clive,” he half whispered as he clamped a hand on his shoulder.  “I would never call either of you boys a liar.  But I do know you’ve had no reason for a curative in weeks.  You would not be here training now if you’d needed one today.  I don’t know what I just saw exactly.  I’ve known you both since you were born and so I’m going to trust you long enough to explain to me exactly why you were ready to murder us all until your brother got close.”

        “Lord Murdoch?” Annabella interrupted.

        “Yes, Your Grace.”  With one last meaningful look at Clive, the Lord Commander left to accompany the duchess to the gates.

        Clive took a deep breath.  What did he know?  If Joshua were to be believed, they seemed to have returned to their own bodies of eighteen years prior.  Although, not exactly.  He still carried all the Eikonic fragments he’d accumulated and Joshua clearly still carried his skill with the Phoenix.  Still, there was little denying he felt younger.  That was a bizarre sensation.  Did that mean everything physical reset while the mental remained the same? 

        Curious, he pulled his shirt sleeve away from the glove on his right hand to examine his forearm.  A particularly nasty wound had left its permanent mark on him during his time with the Bastards.  He would have bled out from that wound if not for Biast.  While his feelings on his fellow members were somewhat complicated, he was grateful to Biast for his swift action in that regard.  The scar, however, was gone.  Feelings of utter bewilderment collided with a lack of surprise leaving him strangely numb about the revelation.  He didn’t even want to think the conclusion he was drawing, not in so many words.  It was too insane!  And apparently real?  Too insane to think, apparently real, and Lord Murdoch already knew something was wrong.  How was he supposed to talk himself out of this corner?

        “Clive?  Are you alright?”  Clive whirled to see Jill standing close, chewing her lip nervously.  Founder, how he wanted to scoop her into his arms.  He was half a step forward before stopping himself.  This wasn’t quite his Jill, was it?  She was still young and did not harbor those feelings for him.  He’d promised he’d come back to her but this wasn’t what he had in mind.

        “I’m alright now.  Joshua patched me up.”  She nodded, eyes downcast.  Probably didn’t believe him.  Or could tell something was off about him.

        “Come on,” Jill said instead of pressing.  “The Archduke is returning.  He’ll want to see you.”

        Jill easily led the way, not noticing Clive’s shallow breathing.  It truly was that day.  The last day before the fall.  The last day before they were all set adrift for over a decade.  Was he ready to see his father again?  Could he do this without arousing his suspicion as well?  There were just too many unknowns to sort through in too short a time to save everyone.  But they would.  They had to.  Somehow.  Clive and Joshua had an opportunity beyond the realm of possibility.  There was a chance here.  To save every face he passed.  To save themselves.  To save Rosaria.  They could do this.

        Your terms are unacceptable.  I want…

Chapter Text

        “Do you intend to tell Father?”  Clive let out a long breath, looking at the grounds around him more than Joshua.  The memory of his last time in this space threatened to break through but it was kept at bay watching Jill chase Torgal across the cobblestones, the pup having been tricked out of her arms by Clive himself.  Between seeing his father alive again and remembering Jill’s near-execution, the memories of his life were proving difficult to keep at bay to focus on the present.  He found himself having to push back against it all.

        “Lord Murdoch already knows something is amiss thanks to my rather dramatic entrance.  It would be unwise to assume he would keep quiet.  At least he’s giving us the chance to explain.”  Joshua nodded gravely, crossing his arms.

        “I see.  We have few options.  Would that we had more time to plan.”

        “Father is expecting me soon.  Unless you have an idea, I believe the best option available is brute force.”  Joshua hummed in thought.

        “Clive.”  His brother pulled his attention back to him with the even more serious tone of his voice.  And then Clive had to look down, forgetting Joshua no longer matched his height.  “Are you in control?”  He didn’t need to say more.  He knew he was asking about Ifrit. 

        “I am.  And they all returned with me.  I feel exactly as I did when we left the hideaway.”  Joshua held a finger to his lips, tapping idly.

        “I think Father and Lord Murdoch should know.  I do not believe we have the time to prevent Phoenix Gate without them.”

        “If they will listen.  This is all…”

        “Completely daft?  True.  I have a greater concern.  I believe you and I may be able to stop the worst of the massacre ourselves.  However Ultima pulled Ifrit from you that night.  He could do it again.  If that happens, it will be us who commits the worst of the massacre instead of preventing it.”  Clive frowned.  He didn’t want to think it possible.  He was pretty sure it couldn’t happen, actually.  But with so many lives at risk, he also couldn’t justify the risk.  They needed backup plans.  Plus…

        “Even if he cannot, he will likely become aware something is different.”

        “Like as not, yes.  That settles it, then.  We need them with us.  Come, we have precious little time.”

        “You intend to reveal yourself as well?”

        “I could hide it little better than you, in truth.  If you have failed to notice I hardly speak as I should and am far too confident with the Phoenix for the age I appear.  It would take little thought to realize something is amiss, as you put it.”  Clive smirked, holding back a laugh that their mother could potentially hear. 

        “A fair point.”  He hazarded a glance at their mother, finding her occupied with berating some servants for allowing Joshua to leave the castle.  There was nothing he could do to help them right now.  “Go.  Quickly.”  Joshua darted for the door with such speed and stealth he nearly Shifted.  Clive followed right behind nearly as quick.  The Shields on duty saluted and allowed them to pass into the throne room without comment.

        “Had you been able to move so quickly then, perhaps we could have snuck out more often,” Clive teased in a hushed whisper as he pushed the doors closed.

        “Had I been able to sneak out perhaps I could have mastered the ability,” Joshua snipped back.  They grinned at each other before turning to the throne room.

        The lighthearted banter immediately ceased.  The room was pristine.  An immaculate bastion of Rosaria as he remembered.  Several memories had threatened to sweep him away since he awoke earlier but this one caught him off guard.  Overlayed in his mind was the gaping hole in the floor leading down to the crypts and the crumbled throne on the other side, the telltale signs of his battle with Hugo Kupka.  Screams of vengeance from them both echoed across the walls and for a moment he wasn’t sure where he was anymore.  He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut to rid himself of the vision.

        “Clive?”  Joshua’s voice helped him push the memory back where it belonged.  When he opened his eyes everything was once again as it should have been, save Joshua’s distinct frown.

        “Memory,” he muttered in answer.  That was answer enough, it seemed.  Joshua nodded and continued walking, Clive easily catching up.

        Their father sat on his throne flanked by Lord Commander Murdoch.  This, too, he remembered.  It felt like another lifetime.  It was another lifetime.  In more ways than one.  Once he had tread this same path and been given his first command.  At the time he’d been as excited as he was nervous.  This time was…hard to explain.  They needed the support of these men.  Without it their chances of success were less.  Yet he didn’t feel nerves.  Maybe it was just the pure insanity of the last hour not letting him truly process what was happening.  In fact there were a great many things their pressing need didn’t allow him time to consider but he pushed that thought to the side too.

        “Your Grace,” he called respectfully with a bow when they reached the steps.

        “Clive.”  His father’s voice was ever so slightly on edge.  Lord Murdoch must have told him something.  Or maybe it had been like that the first time?  “Joshua.  You’ll have to excuse us.  There are matters we must discuss with your brother.”

        “My apologies, Father, but we also have business we must address rather urgently with you both.”  Elwin’s eyes went large at the blatant, if polite, refusal.  Clive could only assume it was Joshua’s much older-seeming presence reaching him.  Lord Murdoch, however, eyed them both with increasing scrutiny.  He sized them up like enemies, knowing something wasn’t right.  It was uncomfortable, but Clive fully understood why.

        “I see,” their father said calmly.  “And what urgent matter might I be unaware of?”  Joshua and Clive shared a look.  It felt like so little time passed between their reunion and Origin and yet they quickly developed an ability to carry out conversations with no words.  Gav had grumbled about it several times while in Ash, constantly feeling left out of whatever was going on.  They’d tried to apologize, having not meant to leave him out, but he dramatically swore it was fine.  After Clive promised him his own bottle of whiskey once they got home he forgave them both and carried on as happily as before.

        Ready? Joshua’s eyes asked.  Clive faintly shook his head then looked up at the mezzanine.

        No.  This is too open.  Joshua glanced back at the door.

        She will be coming soon.

        “Father,” Clive said aloud, knowing the risk their mother would be.  “May we speak in your office?”  Elwin started in surprise.  He studied his sons, eyes narrowing with suspicion.  Clive wasn’t entirely sure what was so strange about the request.

        “Very well.  If you relinquish your sword to the Lord Commander for the time being.”  Did he think Clive was trying to do something?

        “Father!” Joshua began to protest but Clive stopped him.

        “It’s alright.  Dramatic entrance, remember?”  He hadn’t attacked anyone outside, but it had been a near thing.  Could he really blame them for being overly cautious?

        He unsheathed his sword, laid it on the step, and backed away several steps to make them all feel more comfortable.  When Murdoch bent to retrieve it Clive caught sight of a pair of crystal fetters.  The sight made him a little sick.  The certainty that he carried them because of Clive’s earlier behavior made him force back a shamed grimace.  Sword in Lord Murdoch’s hand, Elwin led the way to his office.  Once inside, Joshua immediately locked the door which earned him an odd look from their father.  But he was taking no chances that their mother could interrupt.  Clive cleared his throat.

        “Before we begin.  Lord Murdoch, I presume those crystal fetters are because of me?”  Swallowing his distaste for the accursed things he held out his wrists.  If they were wary enough to retrieve those from whatever dusty shelf they occupied, he could at least double down on his show of faith.  “If it puts your mind at ease I will not object.”  Murdoch revealed the fetters, gaining a shocked jump from the Archduke.  Murdoch, however, chose not to explain.

        “I will admit that it would.”  At least he looked mildly ashamed of the admission.  Clive extended his wrists further as the Lord Commander approached.  “I only do this because I truly do not understand what I saw earlier and I have a duty to ensure that all are safe.”

        “I understand.” 

        “Rodney, what do you think you’re doing?”  This time it was Elwin who protested.

        “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but as I told you there was a…misunderstanding a short while ago.  I use this as mere assurance until I better understand.”

        As soon as the lock fastened Clive’s breath left him in a rush.  His vision narrowed to mere pinpricks and he fell to his knees.  Most of his strength was sapped in an instant.  He hadn’t realized just how much aether he carried without thinking about it.  He heard a commotion around him that he couldn’t quite process for a moment while his body adjusted to the feeling.  When his vision cleared, Joshua knelt before him, hands on his shoulders and wide-eyed with worry.  Behind him their father stood in front of his desk, equally worried and hand half reaching out for his son.  And behind that, as if recoiled in shock, was Lord Murdoch, scared by the display.

        “Fuck, that was worse than last time,” Clive ground out.  He swayed a little until Joshua gripped his shoulders tighter to hold him in place.  This was the second time recently he’d been bound like that.  The first time left him barely able to walk, which he assumed was common, but he’d never experienced a drain like this.

        “The last time?” he heard his father whisper.  The wheels were already turning, wondering why in the world his firstborn with no inherent magic would ever be bound by crystal fetters.  Clive didn’t have the strength at the moment to notice that he had so easily confirmed that something was indeed amiss.

        “Are you alright?” Joshua asked.  “Never have I seen, nor indeed had, such a reaction to crystal fetters.”  Clive chuckled lightly, a little out of breath. 

        “You try carrying all eight and see how you fare.” 

        “Of course,” he muttered.  “The extra aether.  How many did you carry last time you were bound?” 

        “Two plus Ifrit and the Blessing,” Clive deadpanned.  Joshua’s eyes bulged.

        “This could be dangerous to block that much aether.”  He reached down to the fetters but Clive shook his head emphatically.

        “I’ll be fine.  It is more vital they hear us and if they are more concerned about my actions that will not happen.”  Joshua glowered.  Then sighed, relenting, and pulling one of Clive’s arms over his shoulders to help him up.

        “I will only agree to this for a short while.  If I believe there to be a problem they are coming off immediately.”

        “Joshua, wait.  Stop.”  He stopped tugging on Clive’s arm to look at him with intense exasperation.  “Height difference?”  His brow furrowed in confusion before he looked down.  Grumbling incoherently he slid out from under Clive’s arm, but he was fairly certain he heard a couple of spattered curses while he did so.

        “Lord Murdoch, will you please assist my brother to a chair?”  It was not a question nor a suggestion, his irritation on full display.  Murdoch practically jumped at suddenly being addressed after their aside.

        “O-of course.” 

        Once in the much appreciated seat, Clive looked to the two older men in the room.  His father had returned to his desk and Lord Murdoch stood beside him.  Bewildered faces looked back at him with marked concern.  Only then did it occur to Clive what he and Joshua had just discussed in front of them.  None of that talk would have made sense to them, particularly being directed at Clive.  Joshua should have been the one concerned about fetters and aether.  The near role-reversal was probably strange to see.

        “Father,” Joshua began solemnly.  “You once told me that our family was blessed to have the Phoenix and it was our duty to share that strength with our people.”  Judging by his father’s expression, he had no idea what Joshua was talking about.  It sounded like something he would say, though.  “While I sometimes question what exactly that means, in this instance it is clear to me.  A great tragedy approaches and though we cannot hope to stop it in its entirety, I believe we may yet subvert its effects if we act swiftly.  For ourselves, Rosaria, and others.  Alas we do not have the luxury of time to explain everything.  To that end I request you place your faith in us.  Any faith you have ever afforded us, I beg you grant it now.  We have little time to act and cannot waste what time we do have for the lengthy tale to explain how we know what we know.  We will explain it all after this crisis is avoided.  For now, know that everything we say is accurate and will come to pass.  I swear it on Clive’s life.”

        “And I on Joshua’s.”  Jill’s as well, if it would have carried the full meaning of such a statement in this moment.

        The atmosphere took a sudden turn with their statements.  They both knew exactly how grave those statements were.  For Clive in particular, sworn Shield of the Phoenix, to swear this oath on the very life he was meant to protect meant more to Elwin and Murdoch both than anything else he could have said.  And Clive knew that.  So he kept careful eye contact hoping they would see his sincerity.  They had to believe them.

        “You want me to heed a warning of impending disaster without proof?”

        “Yes,” Joshua answered flatly.  “I would provide proof if I could.  At this late hour I fear the only proof I could offer would be the event itself.”

        “This tale you have no time for.  Might it have something to do with your rather sudden and intimate knowledge of crystal fetters?”  Clive thought it an odd choice to focus on until he really looked at his father.  His calm façade was barely being held in place.  Just beneath the surface was an anger he kept a tight reign on.  An anger that his young sons had been bound for reasons he didn’t know and could only imagine. 

        “It does but not in the way you fear.”  Clive hoped that would appease him enough for the moment.  Elwin’s eyes closed, shoulders softening in relief.

        “Alright.  A cryptic warning you cannot explain.  What is this crisis then?”  Clive eagerly leapt into what he knew was coming, carefully keeping it objective and strategic.

        “Tomorrow night Sanbreque will launch a surprise attack on Phoenix Gate at the behest of the Duchess.  There are already infiltrators within Rosalith and I know not how to spot them.  I know only that they will be there when it happens.  It will be a massacre which scarce few will survive.  Soon after the Iron Kingdom will see the opportunity to invade.  They will advance on Rosalith, kill the men, and take the women and children as prisoners.”  Including Jill if I can’t stop this.  Clive tried not to let himself get too worked up over what, seemingly, hadn’t happened yet.  If Jill never had to go through all of that she could live a far happier life.  He had to focus on that for the moment.

        “After the massacre and with all here in this room assumed dead, Rosaria will fall to the Empire as a province ruled by the tyrannical vicereine, Annabella.”  Joshua tried to hide the emotion in talking about their mother and her actions.  Long ago Clive had come to terms with his complicated feelings concerning the woman.  Though he may still call her mother, he felt nothing toward the woman save what her actions wrought.  Joshua, however, never had made peace with it.  It made sense considering he had a somewhat better relationship with her growing up.  It probably felt like two different people yet he knew they were one in the same.

        “Joshua and I will do everything in our power to ensure this does not happen.  There is a potential for another threat to reveal itself, however, and if that happens we will be needed elsewhere.  We would both feel better if we had your support on the ground if we must divert our attention.”  Clive almost laughed.  That was, without doubt, the most anticlimactic way he could possibly have described the most traumatic night of their lives.  There was no way to explain the sudden appearance of Eikons, though, without explaining far more.

        With the most shocking part out of the way, he waited.  He could see his father’s and Lord Murdoch’s minds turning trying to sort through the information given to them.  They were good men.  They had to at least take the threat seriously.  Even if they could do little, even if they could do nothing against Annabella, surely they wouldn’t completely ignore their warnings.  Just preparing could save many lives.  Clive wanted to save them all; he always did.  He also learned long ago that it wasn’t always possible.  He tried to lessen his expectations while waiting for a reply, just in case.

        “This other threat,” Murdoch said cautiously, “it threatens the safety of Rosaria as well?” 

        “It threatens all,” Clive answered ominously.  The danger Ultima posed could never be understated. 

        “Does this mean you believe us, Lord Commander?” Joshua asked.  Clive recognized that glimmer of hope in his voice.  Murdoch shifted onto one foot, crossing his arms.  His eyes never left the brothers.  It felt like he wasn’t even blinking.

        “I have not decided.  I am being informed of a threat which will topple the duchy.  It would be unbecoming of me not to take such a warning seriously.  But you are implicating close allies along with the duchess without proof!  Even if I chose to heed the warning there is remarkably little I can do.”  It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, of course, but he’d expected it.  This was the reality of his father and of Lord Murdoch.  Clive and Joshua’s reality was much more complicated.  Perhaps he had simply hoped for too much.

        “I am similarly trapped,” Elwin agreed.  Despite the fact that his father clearly had not decided anything yet, Clive started looking for backup options.

        “What can you tell us of this attack?” Murdoch asked after a thoughtful moment.

        “I do not know how exactly how they will enter the Keep.”

        “Nor do I,” Joshua added.

        “I know it will be late after most of the feasting has ended and the fighting will begin in the southern courtyard.  I suspect they gain access there.  Perhaps a disguised wagon?  The bulk of the force are imperial soldiers led by a captain, I think, and a couple of dragoons.”

        “They mean to take us unawares then,” Murdoch replied pensively. 

        “And your mother?”  Elwin asked cautiously.  He laced his fingers together on his desk, gripping them tightly.  “You are certain of her involvement?”

        “Beyond certain,” Clive answered as calmly as possible.  Now was not the time for anger. 

        “We all are aware of her…tendencies.  Do you swear to me this is not retaliation for that treatment?”  He directed the question at Clive specifically.  It was no secret Annabella treated him with cold indifference at best and righteous indignation at worst.  Try though he might, Elwin had never been able to stop it completely.  But Clive had never sought revenge or anything of the sort on the woman, not even when she confessed her betrayal to his face.  To him, she was just another monster that needed to be stopped before people died.

        “I swear it, Father.”  Elwin sighed as if he’d feared the answer.

        “She would truly stoop to treason?” he muttered.

        “She will do far worse given the opportunity,” Joshua snidely remarked, trying to keep his own emotions in check.  Clive thought about explaining what she’d said to him in Twinside but kept quiet. 

        You sold your country for a child?

        He could still hear Jill’s shock mirroring his own, when faced with the truth.  It felt so twisted and wrong.  All that death and sacrifice for a life.  And because Joshua was sickly?  Because he didn’t show the strength she wanted him to?  He still felt sick when he thought about it.  Even that, though, was only to one family.  Their own, granted, but still one.  Nothing she said that night could possibly explain the Black Shields or cullings.  No, the worst of her crimes would remain with him for now. 

        “Why don’t you boys give us a few minutes to consider?”  Elwin nodded to the door near his desk.  “You can sit in the reception room until we can decide what to do next.”

Chapter Text

        Clive walked into the reception room with Joshua.  He was absolutely exhausted from everything.  There was so much that he’d stowed away for later when he had a moment to think and when they had made some headway on stopping the massacre to come.  Focusing on his priority was the biggest factor in keeping him functioning and not spiraling to insanity.  Now with a momentary pause, Clive walked over to the window overlooking the castle grounds.  Just beyond the wall he could see a bit of Rosalith stretching out before him.  For the first time since arriving he let himself take it in.  This was real.  It was all real.  They’d survived and been given a chance to fight again.  Everything he’d pushed as far back as he possibly could crashed down upon him at once now that he allowed himself to truly see what lay before him.  The depths of Origin.  Ultima breaking free.  Joshua dying in his arms.  The fight that followed.  The flames he’d summoned to cleanse the world.  And then being here, face to face with people long dead and people he’d killed himself, Joshua standing right beside him once again.  It was impossible to say how long it had truly been but it felt like mere hours at best.  It was a small miracle he’d kept relatively calm this long considering.  But now his fists clenched and he couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down his cheeks just from the release of that tension.  This was real.  Ragged breaths followed as he slid down the wall, reality finally breaking through the façade. 

        “Clive!  What’s wrong?”  Joshua dropped to a knee while Clive struggled for words through gasps.  “That’s it.  I’m taking these thrice-damned fetters off of you.  I never should have let this continue so long.”    

        The instant his hands were free Clive pulled Joshua close, clinging to him so tightly his brother could barely breathe and he had to wriggle some space between them.  It was the second time Joshua had died in front of him.  And the second time he’d come back anyway.  Joshua clutched him tightly letting him sob against his shoulder, a few errant tears of his own spilling over at their proper reunion.  Several minutes passed with no sounds but Clive’s quiet sobs, hands trembling against Joshua’s back the whole time, until he managed to pull himself back together.  All of this was real.  He leaned back to look at his brother.

        “I’m sorry.  It feels only a few hours since you died in my arms.  I couldn’t let myself think about it yet, not with others around.”

        “I know.  Neither of us have had a moment to catch our breath.  At least we finally have that much.”  Joshua hugged him again.  “I’m here, now, Brother.”

        “Please do not do that again.  I can’t…”  All of his attention he focused on Joshua’s embrace just to keep the bloody sight of Origin at bay.  He was here.  Their reunion at Twinside didn’t feel quite as raw as this did, interrupted as it was by a rampaging Bahamut. 

        “I will do my utmost.  Ready to stand?” he asked over Clive’s shoulder.  Clive nodded, allowing Joshua to help pull him to his feet awkwardly and lead him to the couch, the crystal fetters carelessly tossed into a corner on the way.  Once again Joshua made sure the door to the hallway was locked and then he joined him, sitting very close.  “What happened after I gave you the Phoenix?”  Clive exhaled loudly, allowing his head to fall to the back of the couch.

        “What else?  The fight for the world.  I beat Ultima and absorbed his aether like all the other Eikons.”  He gave a wry scoff.  “Ironically it turned out to be too much for his precious vessel after all.  I didn’t have much time so I channeled all that aether into the world to destroy the last Mothercrystal, restore the skies, and hopefully let the world sort itself out.  The last thing I remember are the flames I summoned burning me away.  I don’t know how I got here.”

        “You mean you did not do this?”  He rolled his head to glance at Joshua.

        “Reverse time itself?  It was a truly monstrous amount of aether, but I hardly think myself capable of that.  I barely knew what I was doing as it was.”  Joshua quietly pondered a moment.

        “Then how did we get here?” he asked quietly. 

        “Mistake though it may be, I am actively trying not to consider that question just yet.  I freely admit that I am too overwhelmed at the moment to try unraveling that mystery.”  Joshua poked Clive’s arm so he would move it, which he did, and tucked himself into the gap.

        “Speak of this and there will be repercussions but if I am to remain this size I am taking momentary advantage of it,” he said dryly, half collapsing against Clive’s shoulder.  He, too, sounded exhausted and overwhelmed.  “Were this truly a dream or illusion it is terrifyingly accurate.”

        “It is.  You said you’d been here for hours earlier.  How did you know I’d arrived then?  Founder, I feel like such a fool saying all this aloud.”  Joshua chuckled softly.

        “I know what you mean.  It is difficult to explain how I knew.  I saw you earlier and it was obvious you knew nothing of what was to transpire.  Needless to say I was confused.  Until I went with Jill to watch you spar, as I remembered doing that day, I thought this was some hellish afterlife.  At the exact moment Lord Murdoch struck you, something shifted, I suppose you could say.  It felt as if someone had primed right behind me with the amount of aether I felt gathering.  Instinct alone drove me forward as you fell and there was a tremor in the aether when you landed.  None reacted to it so I am unsure if I alone could feel it or if there were simply none able to sense it nearby.  Then I felt the aether of your Eikon which had most assuredly not been present earlier in the day.  I feared what you might do when you came to and so I protected Lord Murdoch.”  Clive hummed.  That made sense now that he thought about it.  There was no one else alive at this point in time who could have sensed Ifrit.  None knew he existed and Joshua was the only awakened dominant in the duchy.

        “I’m glad you did.  I truly do not know how much time has passed between Origin and the present, if time can even be counted at this point.  It does not feel like much.  Little enough that I readily assumed Ultima was making one last desperate attempt on my mind.  I was furious thinking he had the gall to try it again after I’d beaten him so soundly.  I shudder to think what I might have done had you not been there.”

        “Mayhap there is some intelligent design behind all this after all.  I should by rights be dead and given the circumstances, few others could have talked you down.”

        “How are you faring?” Clive said in lieu of an answer.  He didn’t want to think about his arrival too hard at the moment, or the fact his brother should be dead.  “You did well greeting Father.  Better than myself.”  When Elwin had spoken to him in the bailey it was all Clive could do to form words.  He wouldn’t guarantee they were even coherent words.  It felt strange, all of it, like something else was forcing his body through the motions knowing his mind couldn’t keep up.  He had some vague notion of repeating things he likely had said the first time but if asked now what those things were, he had no clue. 

        “I certainly did not feel it.  I thought I might faint the entire time.  Had I not been here longer I may well have.  Luckily I am a better actor than some.”  He could hear the teasing smile on his brother’s face.

        “Yes, I have been duly informed many times now of my inability to lie, thank you.”  Despite himself, he smiled at the joke.  He readjusted his head on the couch and closed his eyes nonchalantly.  “That does not entirely answer my question, you know.  Seeing Father and Mother again cannot be easy on you.”

        “No more difficult than you addressing Lord Murdoch.”  His voice cracked at the clumsy deflection.

        “Now who is a terrible liar?”  Joshua sighed quietly.  Clive felt him also readjust before finally speaking.

        “Would you believe Mother is more difficult to see?  I watched them both die but so much happened immediately after Father’s death and it was so long ago that it blunts the blow.  But her…  She locked eyes with me, Clive.  I cannot stop seeing that frantic look in her eyes as she looked at me and slit her own throat rather than believe I lived.  She did truly terrible things to so many and I do not believe it all the influence of Ultima.  In fact I question if any of it was his doing, which makes it all the worse.  Part of me believes she received her just reward.  Yet she was still my mother; despite it all I could never force part of myself to stop loving her.  I look at her now, knowing what will happen, and…  I freeze.  I’ve yet to say a single word to the woman.  I am so angry with her for what she will do while also seeing her dying expression.  I cannot seem to settle on how to speak with her.”

        “My rule was ‘don’t speak’ more oft than not.”

        “It would certainly be easier.” 

        “With luck we will need concern ourselves with this act no longer after tomorrow.”

        They fell into an easy silence for a while.  When he was young Clive didn’t particularly like the castle.  Annabella was a menace and those she used against him were just as bad.  He spent every day trying to live up to the impossible standard he’d set for himself.  He could admit that looking back on it now.  To be here after so long was quite a different experience, however.  It was comfortable in a way he didn’t know as an adult and couldn’t understand as a child.  The hideaway was home, of course, but there were constant demands and requirements from being the leader.  Although he missed it, it was nice to sit here for a moment knowing there was nothing he need do just yet.  It was most likely the first time he had felt safe and comfortable within these walls since he was a small child.

        “I meant to ask,” Joshua said after a while, “you looked as if you’d seen a ghost when we entered the throne room.  What was that?”

        “Hm.  Did you return to Rosalith after that night?”

        “No.  I dared not lest I be recognized.”

        “I did once.  Kupka wanted my head for killing his lover and he used Rosalith as the hostage to lure me out.  I told you we fought.  What I didn’t mention was that he destroyed Father’s throne and in the midst of our fight he broke the floor.  We fell all the way into the crypts.  When I climbed back up there was little left of most of the throne room.  It was strange, when I walked in I could clearly see both of those realities.  In the bailey, once I was able to recognize what was happening I prepared myself to see those bad memories surface with every face I looked upon.  That one took me by surprise.”

        “I see.  Perhaps our memories are something to also be wary of.  For now, we shall use them to our best ability.  So if Father and Lord Murdoch do not aid us, how do we stop this impending massacre?”

        “Well, do you want my plan for worst or best case scenario first?”

        Once the boys were safely behind the closed door Elwin stood from his desk without comment.  He poured two cups of wine, handed one to Rodney, and claimed one of the chairs before the unlit fireplace.  With no one else around he allowed himself to wearily sink into the chair.  Rodney did much the same, if a bit more restrained by his armor. 

        This was not what he had expected to arrive home to by any stretch of the imagination.  It was quite apparent there was more at work here than the boys were saying yet.  True they had said there was a lengthy tale involved, but it couldn’t be so simple as that.  Both were behaving strangely.  He needed to get to the bottom of this.  If they were right about this threat, though, the truth would have to wait.  Just like they said it would.  He would still feel much better trying to decide a course of action if he knew how they had such information.

        “What do we do, Rodney?” he asked quietly.  He already had ideas of his own, of course, but he would be a fool not to seek advice from his Lord Commander.  Rodney leaned forward heavily, resting his weight on his knees as if it were the weight of the entire duchy.

        “I don’t know,” he admitted.  “Intelligence this detailed is always a trap.  Were it anyone else I would be looking for the real threat.  If that makes this the perfect trap or more believable for the detail, I’m not sure.  I fear it will come down to a single question.”

        “Can we afford the risk,” Elwin finished knowingly.  “If it is true, we will all be presumed dead afterward and Rosaria falls to Sanbreque.  It seems too much to lose.”

        “And too great a threat of panic and showing our hands if it isn’t.”

        “Showing it to the Empire or someone else?”

        “I wish I knew.”

        “Alright then.  What do we know?”

        “I cannot tell the Shields or mobilize overt defenses based only on the testimony of your sons.  No offense.”  Elwin waved a hand.

        “Nor can I act on the duchess for the same reason.  In truth it might just be easier to do something in that regard if it were anyone but them.”

        “There is also the matter of the infiltrators we do not know how to spot.  Should we act in any way we will tip them off.  If we assume they do indeed mean to attack and we alert them now, we may not have the benefit of a warning next time.”

        “That exhausts our options, then.  Save one.”

        “Elwin, if you are thinking what I believe you to be…”  Rodney groaned while Elwin stood to refill their cups.

        “Well, two options, you could say.”  He grinned though he knew it was strained.  “We need not necessarily respond with such force.  Clive and Joshua have made it abundantly clear they will work against this no matter what we say or do.”  He returned to his seat, sitting forward this time and locking eyes with Rodney, who was already looking at him dubiously.  “They wanted our aid.  That we could give them.  Knowledge of the threat awaiting us need not leave this room.”  Rodney scoffed loudly at the idea and set his cup down with a loud thump.

        “That’s insanity, Elwin!  Four against an Imperial contingent?  We wouldn’t survive and it would all collapse anyway!”

        “Maybe, maybe not.  But four who know of the trap before it is sprung?  That might give us a chance.”  Rodney hung his head in defeat.  Elwin knew he had him.

        “I hesitate to say this, but if nothing happens?” 

        That was an awkward question that made Elwin flex his hand around his cup to consider.  If nothing happened there would be a great many questions raised, even if they did come only from those present here.  There would be no good ending to this business either way.  Should the attack happen, his wife will likely be culpable, if the boys were to be believed.  If it doesn’t, his sons have played them both for fools for unknown reasons which could range from mischievous to malicious.  As little as he wanted to consider it, right now he could more easily imagine Annabella betraying them than his sons executing a mad prank.

        “Should nothing come of this there will be a great deal my sons must answer,” he said quietly.  He didn’t mask the tinge of a threat in his words.

        “Very well then.  Come what may, this is our best option it seems.  May the flames see it sufficient.”  Elwin moved to stand, thinking their talk over, but Rodney held a hand out to stop him.  “There is far more to this than it seems, Elwin.  You know that, right?”

        “I do.”

        “I’m sure you have noticed they are both acting strangely.”

        “To put it mildly.”

        “That misunderstanding I spoke of?  The reason I pulled the crystal fetters from storage and put them on Clive?  Just before your return, I knocked him senseless into the dirt.  Nothing out of the ordinary and nothing which has not happened before.  But Joshua ran in to stand in front of me.  He was extremely worried, not for Clive, but for me.  It honestly looked like he was equally prepared to heal or to do battle with his brother.  He said Clive had been accidentally given some herb that can cause hallucinations.  A lie, I knew, but he definitely knew something was wrong before I did. 

        “When Clive came around, I felt certain he meant to kill us all and somehow I believe he could have.  Never have I seen such anger in him, Elwin.  Never.  Joshua did not so much as flinch.  He stood between his brother and me, wouldn’t let him so much as look at me and talked him down.  I understood nothing they said to each other.  None of it was anything I’d ever heard of before.”  Rodney looked up to hold his gaze.  “What I saw out there sincerely makes me question what I know to be true.  I swear I saw Joshua move with the speed of the Phoenix as Clive does.  And Clive summoned lightning in preparation to fight.  I would stake my life that they could do neither of those things yesterday.”

        “What are you trying to say, Rodney?”  It was true it seemed impossible.  How could Joshua have mastered his abilities so young?  The most he had done was some healing, palm-sized flames, and the Blessing for Clive.  And Clive himself was no Bearer; he should not be able to use magic not of the Phoenix.  It made no sense and yet he could see that Rodney knew exactly what he saw.

        “I don’t know what I’m trying to say.  All I know is that those boys are not the ones I saw yesterday or even this morning.  When I look at them their eyes are not the same.  They both look at us as men haunted by their own actions.  Shields do not see men fall to that despair often but I do know the look.  It is the same my father bore after returning from Drake’s Breath.”

        “Haunted by actions when neither have seen battle,” Elwin mused aloud.  The more he tried to wrap his head around what he was seeing the more it felt his sanity slipped past him.  “Perhaps that is why they hold their secrets.” 

        There was no way of explaining any of this yet.  Not with his sons being so guarded.  He had a list of impossible things staring him in the face and he knew not what any of it meant.  A thought crept into his mind that maybe his sons were silent because they lacked trust in him.  It was a sobering thought to consider.  Knowing how little he’d been able to stop Annabella over the years, maybe he deserved it.  He should have been fearful of what he did not know but he found that wasn’t the case.

        “I want to trust them, Rodney.  Young they may be but they carried themselves as men here.”

        “We’ve already decided to aid them, have we not?”

        “We have.  Now I need to decide how much I can take on blind faith.  But Founder help me, I want to show them I have faith despite everything.”  Just in case they have none in me.  “Come.  I suppose I shall know that line when I see it.  For now we have strategy to consider.  And if we pay attention, we may just find answers they are not yet willing to provide.”

        Elwin led Rodney to the reception room.  He’d expected his sons to greet him when they pulled the door open but they remained seated.  Late afternoon sun fell in ribbons upon them as they, apparently, dozed off on the couch.  He didn’t try suppressing a smile at the sight.  It actually calmed his own heart in a strange way.  Joshua was tucked under Clive’s arm with his head on his shoulder, Clive’s arm around the boy protectively, and his own head having at some point fallen onto his brother’s.  As he stood there watching, Joshua shifted closer and Clive’s arm tightened around him.

        It was nigh impossible to imagine what Rodney had said happened while looking at them now.  Only now did he remember the crystal fetters, now removed from Clive’s wrists and tossed carelessly into a corner.  He could understand Rodney’s desire for safety under the circumstances but he was glad they were gone.  Unsurprisingly, he supposed.  Joshua had, for whatever reason, declared he would only permit them a short while.  Kneeling down, Elwin put a hand on both their knees and shook lightly.

        “Boys.  Wake up.”  Clive jumped awake immediately, jostling Joshua roughly on his shoulder.  Two sets of blue eyes looked at and around him as if they didn’t know where they were, then blinked slowly and went wide before being covered.  Joshua yawned almost convincingly while Clive rubbed his eyes.

        “By the flames, when was the last time I slept?” he muttered under his breath.  Elwin subtly eyed Rodney who only raised an eyebrow as if to say see what I mean?  Something strange indeed.

        “My apologies, Father.  Have you arrived at your decision then?” Joshua asked.  Was that a deliberate cover, he wondered?

        “We have,” he said instead, standing to pace in front of them.  He clasped his hands behind his back.  “I think you both know we cannot launch a large-scale operation to combat this supposed threat.  However, we are willing to aid you ourselves.  If this threat is truly so grave, we cannot ignore it completely.  Four is a small number but with surprise on our side we may at least put up enough of a defense to hold until the other Shields can be roused.”  The longer he spoke the more change he saw in his sons.  Every time he looked, Joshua’s eyes grew more hopeful.  And Clive’s smile grew wider.  When was the last time he saw his eldest smile?

        “I like our odds,” he said confidently.  “Even more so knowing I can make it six.  There are two I know for a fact are not involved and I trust them both with my life.”

Chapter Text

            It was late when they finished planning.  Clive would go to Stillwind Marshes with Sir Tyler and Sir Wade as he had the first time.  Little would change in that regard, though Clive had a few ideas about enlisting their aid for later in the night.  If all went well, they could likely arrive at Phoenix Gate even earlier than they previously had.  Joshua, their father, and Lord Murdoch, meanwhile, would go on ahead and do what needed to be done at the keep.  Joshua knew enough from Clive that he believed he may be able to think of a couple strategies.  Elwin originally tried to dissuade Joshua from fighting but Joshua would not hear of it.  He made it absolutely plain that no matter what happened, he would be involved and they would not keep him from it.  Hearing a (supposedly) ten year old put the Archduke and his Lord Commander into such a position was rather amusing.  Once they finally relented they made arrangements for weaponry for Joshua under guise of ceremony and Joshua himself managed to dig out some of Clive’s old training gear he’d outgrown.  He preferred little armor anyway, so it would suffice for now.  He found his usual clothing at this age far too restrictive for combat.  Annabella was always adamant that he look the part of the Phoenix and so his wardrobe had surprisingly few options.  Had they more time Clive would have preferred to spar with him so he could adapt to his body.  Between the two, he had lost the most height.  As it was, their usual tactics could be more a danger than a help.

        Even though he was exhausted, Clive sat on the banister of the balcony when they finished rather than go to bed, looking out over the city.  His mind kept running in circles and he’d hoped that with a moment of peace it might calm itself.  At least this time he could enjoy that peace.  If nothing else he was surprisingly grateful to see Rosalith again.  He loved his homeland; nothing would ever change that.  To see everything whole brought a smile to his face.  It would all fall apart again.  Somehow, some way, it was coming.  Maybe this time this view could remain, though.

        Thoughts turned to plans.  He wasn’t yet prepared to tackle the world.  Doing it once didn’t mean he was ready to plan to do it again.  Rosaria came first.  So he considered options for tomorrow.  He needed to limit himself to the Phoenix and Ifrit.  He and Joshua could see the difference in the flames but no one else here would be able to.  Flames were flames.  Anything else would raise too many questions they were not prepared to answer.  That would prove to be an interesting line to walk moving forward.  Something else that would have to wait.  The biggest problem for tomorrow, aside from the obvious, was the morbol.  Then again, they dealt with it just fine when they didn’t know about it.  It would likely be alright.  He didn’t intend to tell Sir Tyler and Sir Wade of its existence, though.  As much as he hated to admit it, he needed them to see this.  Sir Wade had once told him that seeing Clive look at that morbol without fear got him through some difficult nights.  While that was a little extreme he thought, he did need to prove he could face down a giant, unexpected enemy with calm composure and work with them to end it.  To them, this was his first command.  It wasn’t just his fighting prowess he was proving.  It was his plan to only speak with them about helping after the morbol so that they would understand he did not panic in the face of adversity or the unknown.  They needed proof he was as level-headed as everyone claimed.  With luck it would make it easier to convince them of the coming threat. 

        “Wishing on a star?”  Clive turned to see Jill walking out onto the balcony behind him.  Of course, that was tonight, wasn’t it?  There were so many moments he’d had with Jill in the last five years that this had become just one of many.  The night she’d prayed for his return.  Well, he couldn’t deprive her of this moment even if it was now a sad memory for him.

        “I think I’m a little old for that,” he replied.  Mentally he prepared himself for yet another relived memory in which he couldn’t remember exactly what he said.  As with his father he thought little of it and hoped whatever had gotten him through that encounter would get him through this as well.  “I should get some sleep.”

        “Right.”  There was a distinct disappointment in her voice and he hated to leave like that so after leaping off the banister he leaned against it instead.  He remembered staying last time but didn’t remember hearing the disappointment.  Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed.  “You’re going with them tomorrow, aren’t you?”

        “I am Joshua’s Shield.  I am sworn to protect him.  Not that he listens to me.  Reckless fool.”  That probably wasn’t exactly what he’d said last time.  No less true though.  His mind drifted to Drake’s Head and his imprisonment of Ultima to save Clive.  That single decision ultimately led to his fall.  Something else he had to prevent.

        “Clive, you…”  Jill chewed on her lip.  He never had figured out what she was going to say that night.  Now he was a little curious.  Out of his periphery he saw her turn to face him but he remained still.  “Are you sure you’ll be alright going?  I was worried about you today.”  Clive’s eyes widened a little in surprise.  He hadn’t expected her to change the conversation and whatever it was in his mind that worked for him when he didn’t remember what to do stuttered to a halt.

        “I’m alright.  That was…”  He trailed off not knowing how to finish.  What he wanted to say was that it was a temporary effect but it wasn’t really and his Jill or not he still didn’t want to lie to her.

        “Joshua said something about an herb and hallucinations.  They involved him, didn’t they?”

        “They did,” he confessed softly.  It wasn’t untrue.

        “I can see why you’d want to talk to him afterward, then.”  She nodded with determination, turning back to the moon.  “So I won’t chastise you for tricking Torgal out of my arms.”  He winced.  Should have known she would notice.  He felt terrible for doing it but it was the only way to speak to Joshua alone.  “You were both with your father a long time.  There’s going to be another war, isn’t there?”

        “Yes.  There’s always a battle to be fought it seems.  Some need fought more than others.”  No matter what happened tomorrow, war would be coming.  A war for all humanity.

        “If you say so.  I would rather this peace last forever.”  Clive turned around to lean on the banister and look up at the moon.

        “Would that it could,” he lamented.  He would have to break the world again.  It was unavoidable.  Their whole world was built on a house of cards and he could not allow it to stand as it was.  Even if he did choose to ignore it, Ultima would find him eventually and it would all crumble anyway.  No, there would be no avoiding this.  Their only hope was that maybe he could do it better instead of fumbling in the dark.

        “You’ll come back, won’t you?” she whispered. 

        “Of course I will.  But there is something you could do to help.”  Jill looked up with questioning wide eyes.  Then she slowly smiled as if she realized exactly what to do.

        “Well, if you are not going to pray to Metia yourself I shall do it for you.”  Closing her eyes and clasping her hands together she said a silent prayer.  It worked once before; maybe it would again.  If only it could bring Jill to him this time. 

        “Thank you, Jill,” he said when she opened her eyes again.  If nothing else she looked a little more calm than she had been.  “Can I ask you something?” he asked without thinking.  She nodded.  “Do you believe in second chances?”  She cocked her head, thinking.  He knew the answer she would give in eighteen years but he didn’t know what she might say now.

        “I do.  Or at least I want to.  I’ve never seen it happen myself.  I would like to believe that those with a strong enough will can pull themselves out of anything and push themselves to something better.  Why do you ask?” 

        “Just something I’ve been wondering lately.”

        “Do you believe in second chances?”  Clive hummed.

        “I don’t know yet.  I want to, but…the odds seem stacked.”  Jill scooted closer.

        “Maybe the question is too big.” 

        “What do you mean?”

        “Maybe choosing to seek out a second chance puts you on that path.  Maybe the choice to be better is the second chance.  The chance is the journey not the destination.”  Hm.  That certainly made the monumental tasks before him seem more manageable.  The breeze blew and Jill shivered beside him.  He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, turning them so he took the brunt of the cool night air instead of her.

        “I like that answer.  Maybe I have been thinking about it wrong.”

        “I’m glad.  But um, Clive?”

        “Hm?”  He looked down to find Jill’s face blushing furiously.

        “Are you sure you are well?  You seem different…”  He nearly replied.  He nearly insisted he was fine.  And then he realized what he’d done. 

        “My apologies!” he stammered, jumping away from her.  Even now Jill was easy to talk to and easy to be around.  So easy it had slipped his mind that this wasn’t his Jill and this Jill wasn’t used to him being so close.  He mentally swore, refusing to look at her.  He should have seen this coming.

        “It’s quite alright,” she murmured.  They both awkwardly stared at the floor for several seconds, not knowing what to do next.  Founder, he felt like a teenager again in that moment.  “Could I ask you something now?”  She took a step closer. 

        “Of course.”  Please don’t be something I have no ready answer for.  He waited for the question but it never came.  Instead she slipped her arms around his stomach hesitantly.

        “I was truly worried for you this afternoon,” she said quietly.  Clive fought himself as she spoke, wanting to hug her back while at the same time fearing he shouldn’t.  “You’re always so calm.  I couldn’t imagine what horrific nightmare you must be seeing that would anger you like that.  I was thankful Joshua could help you but I…”  Almost imperceptibly her arms tightened around him.  That alone crumpled the argument that he should do nothing and he lightly placed his arms around her.  He heard the faintest gasp from her.  “I wanted to do something too,” she confessed in a quiet rush.

        “You were there.  That was enough.  Thank you.”  Abruptly she pulled her arms free and walked as fast as she could to the door.

        “Goodnight Clive,” she called without turning around.  Despite the awkwardness of the whole thing, he smirked at the embarrassment he heard in her voice, and the fact that she never actually asked him anything.  The smirk, though, turned sour as he looked back up at the moon. 

        They’d promised to look at it together when it was all over, when the sky was clear.  And they just did.  Except this Jill didn’t know of that promise.  And his Jill would never get to do this.  Was it wrong of him to want her here?  There was the possibility of giving her a better life.  No more guilt or nightmares.  She could be happy.  It just wouldn’t be the woman he fell in love with.  It felt a selfish desire to want that woman with him now.  With only a pang in his chest to answer the question, he returned inside.

        Opening the door to his room he stepped inside with little thought until he closed the door and turned around.  It was exactly as he remembered it.  Eighteen years since he last stood in this spot.  Books lining the wall, lit fireplace surrounded by plush chairs.  He couldn’t count the hours he’d spent there reading.  A desk near the window, his secret retreat for late-night studies when he’d spent too much time training.  His rather large bed covered in the reds of Rosaria.  It was far more luxurious than he was used to now.  Part of him wanted to lie on the floor instead.  Feeling like an uninvited guest, he walked lightly across the floor to prepare for bed as if he might wake the rightful occupant of the room.

        Eventually he settled on using the bed after all.  Although he had slept in many an uncomfortable place, his fifteen year old body was unaccustomed to it.  Better to ere on the side of caution, he thought.  Sinking into the bed, feeling awkwardly alone, his thoughts returned to Jill.  His Jill.  It was a bizarre way to think of it but then everything about this was bizarre.  It had only been half a day at best since his arrival here and he was already tired of the complicated way he had to view his life.  Everything both was and was not, Jill most of all.  Heaving a sigh he shoved the thought aside.  It would only hurt worse to think on it.  Instead he summoned a tiny puff of wind to blow out the candle, rolled over, and shut his eyes.

        He dreamed of fire.  Rosalith burning, Rosaria a desolate place of ash and cinder.  Everywhere he looked flames consumed everything.  He could see bodies he knew contorted into awkward positions in death and no matter how hard he ran he could never reach them to find out who exactly they were.  Then the flames erupted around him.  They blocked out the rest of the world as they raged on without end.  No matter how hard he tried to control them they wouldn’t diminish.  It felt like something else controlled them instead, using them for some unknown purpose.  They burned his skin as they lapped against him.  They burned his throat when he tried to speak.  Every moment was agony without end.  It only ended once he was ash along with everything else and the dream gave way to darkness.

        But something moved through that darkness.  He could see no trace of it aside from rippling shadows and a sense of a presence just beyond his periphery that put him on edge and tugged at every battle instinct he had.  Wherever the phantom moved was a murmur.  Too soft to make out, it floated through the air and vanished like sand in the wind.  He tried to reach out to catch the pieces of that murmuring but it always fell through his fingers.  Then the movement and murmuring stopped and Clive fell to a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

        The bailey was a whirlwind of activity.  Shields and squires alike ran everywhere in preparation of the coming journey.  The sound of steel on whetstones punctuated the chatter while the smell of leather oils floated over it all.  Threading through the bustling area, Clive stepped into the armory having found a new appreciation for the smaller operations of the Cursebreakers.  Once inside he had to blink a few times to adjust to the dimmer light.  When he picked up his sword this morning he realized just how light it was compared to the heavier weapons he’d grown accustomed to as an adult.  With a sword this light, he feared he would be just as likely to throw it as swing it.  The first thing he did was hunt down Lord Murdoch to ask if he could find something more suitable from their stores in the armory since there was no time to craft a new blade.  Thankfully the Lord Commander readily agreed and sent word to the quartermaster.

        The storeroom was lined with rows upon rows of weapons in every shape and size imaginable.  Axes, maces, longswords, shortswords, daggers, bows, it would be a veritable nightmare to dig through all the options if one did not know what they were looking for.  Luckily for Clive, he knew exactly what he was after.  Making a line straight for the longswords he merely needed to lift them to know if it was right or not.  The trick was that his muscles were not up to the task his mind wanted them to be.  Finding the right thing would be as much luck as knowledge.  The first several he tried were lighter than what he carried.  Unsurprising, he supposed.  Longswords were by far the most common weapon probably in all The Twins and yet it seemed Clive’s preferences in weight were always unique to him.  Hoping it wasn’t a lost cause he continued down the rack until he finally found something heavier.  Pulling it out he flipped it in his hand a couple times to get a good feel for it.  Already it felt more natural to him.  It didn’t look overly different from the Rosarian Oath sword he carried.  A little heavier, the corners of the guard a little sharper, the steel slightly wider at the base.  It slid into his scabbard as if it belonged there.

        The armory came equipped with a test dummy for just such moments as this so he walked over, took his stance, and unleashed a string of attacks which held nothing back.  It felt good to let go like this in the safety of a training room considering yesterday (or what felt like yesterday to him) he was fighting to kill a god.  The sword seemed a good fit for him but he had to be sure.  His mind still wanted heavier and his body lighter.  With the two at odds he had to know what his muscles could realistically take.  Especially knowing that he had a massacre to prevent.  Maybe this wasn’t the best time to work with a new sword.  Then again he would be in trouble if he couldn’t use his current one properly.  Why was this so complicated in the most unexpected ways?  His mind wandered a bit with string after string of attacks on the dummy until he heard a distinct crack and the dummy started leaning ominously.  Sighing heavily he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

        “Idiot,” he muttered.  He knew better than to swing his blade with so little regard and let his mind wander in the process.  It hadn’t been that long since he’d struck a training dummy.  Or had it?  Now that he thought about it he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this.  Training at the hideaway was, for him, not a priority considering how often he had to fight in the field.  Mulling it over he sheathed his sword and set to work trying to support the training dummy.

        “Well struck, my lord!”

        “Yes, I’d say you vanquished your foe.”  Clive winced at the voices and turned slowly.  Sir Wade and Sir Tyler both stood just inside the door leaning against the wall.  Both were grinning, Wade’s far larger.  Clive had forgotten how cheerful Wade had been before the fall.  With his attention captured they stood up straight, drew their weapons, and saluted. 

        “Just testing the weight,” Clive said softly as they stowed their weapons again.  He gestured to his ‘vanquished foe.’  “Got a little carried away doing so.”

        “Ah, time for a new sword then?” Wade asked, eyes looking at the weapon over Clive’s shoulder.

        “Yes.  Mine was proving a bit lighter than I’d like.  This seemed a good time to work with something heavier.”  Tyler looked over at the rack where the sword had come from.

        “Hm.  Didn’t think I’d ever see someone choose that sword.  Been here longer than I’ve been a Shield.  It always proved too heavy for those who tried it.”

        “It was just waiting for his lordship here, then wasn’t it?”  Wade laughed.  Considering the frankly huge axe on his back, weight probably didn’t mean much to him.  Clive smirked at the thought but internally he was wincing.  He would pick a sword no one could use and think it a compromise.  Now that he thought about it he had to wonder how Blackthorne put up with him and his weapon requirements if they were this ridiculous. 

        “Are you both prepared?  I imagine the Archduke will be leaving soon and we shall depart right after.”

        Outside the procession was growing in size.  Clive patted Ambrosia and saw her off with another Shield.  Under an awning across from him he caught sight of Joshua and Jill speaking.  He didn’t know exactly what they said but he imagined Jill was wishing him luck.  They were going to need it.  After Joshua left Jill caught Clive’s eye, smiled, and waved.

        “Good luck!”  Clive nodded with a small smile of his own, ignoring the two Shields behind him watching the whole thing.  Given his farewell to Jill before leaving for Origin, well, he cared little for the talk of others when it came to that kind of thing now.

        Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone helping Joshua mount his chocobo, scowl painted upon his brother’s face.  Clive held back the snicker he felt but just barely.  It surely wasn’t easy to suddenly lose a couple feet in height.  Knowing his brother he likely hated the feeling of having to be aided and coddled like this again.  He’d become quite determined to forge his own path as an adult, even if that path meant helping Clive in his.  It was the choice he made and he seemed glad to be rid of so much ceremony.  As soon as Joshua was in place their father rallied those in the procession and they started out for Phoenix Gate.  When he passed Clive, Joshua looked over.

        It begins, he didn’t say.  Clive just nodded, expression hardened for a moment knowing the battle they would soon face.  But first, he had other matters to attend to.  Doing his best to wipe that hardened look away he turned back to Sir Tyler and Sir Wade.

        “This is will not be a mere investigation.  If there are goblins they will not leave willingly.”

        “If it is to be a fight we will do our duty,” Tyler answered resolutely.  “And may I say what an honor it is to fight alongside you.”  Clive smiled, feeling much less like the lordling caught in the armory now, and extended a hand to each of them in turn. 

        “As it is mine to fight alongside you.  To the marshes then.”  He strode through the gates, confident this, at least, wouldn’t be too much trouble.

        “Shiiit!  He’s invited a friend!”  Wade scrambled to clear the path of the Gigas’ giant club when it crashed down nearly on top of him.

        They’d been making good timing.  But he’d forgotten about the damned Gigas.  He’d killed so many of the things over the years he’d forgotten about this one.  And that they weren’t lurking behind every rock yet.  Leaping back away from a swing Clive took a brief moment to clear his mind and recenter himself.  This wasn’t a major problem.  He couldn’t be expected to remember every detail of the last eighteen years on command and they’d already survived it once.  It would still be fine.  He nearly reached for Bahamut’s Impulse, though, out of sheer habit to help stagger the foe before remembering why he couldn’t.  The old fashioned way it would have to be.  Just before he ran back into the fight he noticed the telltale signs of the Gigas winding up for his spinning attack.

        “Get back!” he shouted.  Wade and Tyler followed the order instantly and not a moment too soon.  Tyler just barely avoided a hit from the club as it spun around.  One spin.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Somehow they dodged every swing.

        Finally the creature stopped and Clive was ready when it did.  Shifting over to it he struck hard across its side with the force of the movement.  Then finding purchase he jumped off of it twice, high into the air.  Setting flames to sword he let gravity aid him.  The crash of steel and flame down the Gigas and onto the ground beneath sent shockwaves rippling across the nearby pools of water.  The Gigas crashed shortly after. 

        “Now!” he rallied.

        Strike after strike landed on the creature with sickening sounds.  Blood spewed from open wounds only to be burned away by Clive’s flames.  Axe, sword, and flame tore at its flesh leaving it severely weakened by the time it regained its footing.  As it stumbled to its feet, Tyler lunged, sword sinking too deep into its flesh to pull out quickly.  He was nearly lifted off his feet when it stood.  Wade took axe to knee like a lumberjack trying to fell a tree.  Clive gathered Ifrit’s flames and charged forward, pushing the Gigas backward with all his might and giving Tyler enough time to withdraw with his weapon.  Clive, on the other hand, was now in the precarious position of being right beneath the giant club which was currently swinging toward him.

        He had time to move.  He didn’t.  Instead he braced himself, waiting for the right moment like time slowed around him.  With a powerful thrust he shoved his sword nearly to the hilt into the center of the Gigas.  Swinging is back foot out and turning his body with it he used the momentum to force the blade through the torso and out the side.  A spray of blood followed in its wake and the Gigas fell dead.  There was no time for victory, he knew.  Now their real test began.  The goblin leader ran and the three gave chase.  Clive slowed as they entered what would be their next arena.

        “Careful.  Something isn’t right,” he cautioned as he drew his sword.  The goblin mocked them from atop a pile of rubble.  The ground shook beneath them.  And just as he remembered a morbol swallowed the pathetic creature whole.  What he didn’t remember was the gaping purple maw and the magenta tendrils on its back.

        “A morbol?” Tyler shouted in disbelief.

        “This far south?” Wade cried.

        “Impossible,” Clive breathed.  He’d expected the morbol.  A regular morbol.  This thing before him shouldn’t be here.  He killed it, or one like it, with Jill and Joshua for Nigel.  A notorious mark, right here in front of them.  Suddenly he was no longer sure how this would go.  Three dominants and an awakened Torgal tackled this thing last time.  Steeling himself he stepped forward.  This didn’t change what they had to do.

        “Sir Tyler.  Sir Wade.  Let us rid Rosaria of this intruder.”  He still had many tricks if it came to it.  They would not lose here.

        The morbol sprang into action, spewing them all with acid as they tried to get within range.  Wade dug his heels in to stop short, coughing at the smell but unhurt.  Tyler, meanwhile, dodged right while Clive dodged left.  It was a complicated dance to perform, fighting this morbol.  Stay away from the mouth, strike tendrils that got too close, dodge acid falling from the sky, don’t breathe in the toxic fumes.  This was going to be a long fight.  Knowing this morbol hit harder than most Clive tried to keep his comrades within sight in case he needed to take drastic action.  All the while six other Eikons pushed for the chance to join.  Or maybe that was just Clive wanting to call them while knowing he shouldn’t.

        They did alright for a while.  Their wounds were minor at worst while the morbol leaked toxic fluid from countless severed tendrils.  Even when it tried to suck them into its mouth they were able to turn it into an advantage.  Once Clive was able to climb on top of it and hit it hard from above.  Another attempt saw both Tyler and Wade peel off to either side of the mouth and slash it from front to back on either side.  A normal morbol would have been nearly dead from the move but not this one.  A well timed Flames of Rebirth from Clive then gave Tyler and Wade a chance to safely assault it from behind.  Hidden from view, Clive dared summon Garuda to wrestle it to the ground to prolong the assault.  Slowly but surely they were wearing it down.  Slice, dodge, parry, evade, slice, thrust.  Over and over until they lost all track of time to the deadly dance in which they were engaged.

        Until it tired of the game and burrowed into the ground.

        “Watch the ground beneath you!” Clive shouted, scanning the water around them.

        It finally emerged near the gate they’d entered from.  Immediately they were put on the defensive as the tentacled creature stampeded around the marsh with reckless abandon.  No one could land a hit on it like this save Clive who could send bursts of flame its way.  It didn’t do much more than draw its attention.  Angered by the magic it stampeded towards Clive far faster than before.

        “My lord!” Wade shouted moments before he shoved Clive out of the way.  Wade should be able to dodge.  There was still time.  This was nothing too serious.  But the morbol tensed its muscles.  It jumped high in the air, now aimed directly at Wade.

        “Wade!” Tyler shouted, too far away to do anything.  Clive didn’t think.  Years of battles swelled within him and acted of their own accord.  Battle instinct alone took over.  No one was dying here.  No one.

        “Shiva!!” he bellowed. 

        The familiar cold embraced him and he threw as much ice as he could at the morbol and the water beneath it.  Flipping his sword downward he thrust it into the ice to send shards of it flying.  The second thrust knocked the flying creature straight from the sky, tumbling onto the remaining ice shards before Wade.  Not sparing so much as a glance at Clive, Wade raised his axe high and cleaved the twitching mass almost in two.  Just to be on the safe side Clive followed with a massive outpour of flames until it began to smolder.  Confident that it was dead he finally sheathed his sword. 

            Breathing heavily he knelt on one knee to catch his breath.  Only then did he realize what he’d done.  Dammit.  He needed to stick to flames.  Anything else would complicate things.  And did he just use ice?  No, of course not.  He just had to shout for Shiva.  Damned battle instincts.  No matter where he was now it couldn’t just erase thirteen years in the Imperial army or five more fighting for Bearers and Valisthea alike with multiple Eikons at his beck and call.  Surely Sir Tyler and Sir Wade wouldn’t label him a Bearer would they?  They wouldn’t insist he be branded as soon as they reach Phoenix Gate.  Would they? 

        He remembered every excruciating moment of being branded the first time.  He could still feel the pressure of leather restraints around his wrists, ankles, and neck and the rough iron chains they’d had to use on top of that because he kept burning through the leather in a doomed fight for freedom.  He could still feel the sting of the needle and the burn of the poisonous wyvern tail ink as it settled into his skin.  They made sure he felt every jab like each small prick repeated to him what he had become.  A reminder he would never again be free.  The phantom smell assaulted his nose when he thought about that moment, a sickeningly floral smell combined with stringent alcohol and hot steel that had made his head spin.  His hand trembled every time he dwelled on it too long.  Never again would he be branded.  Never.

        “Are you well, my lord?” Tyler asked calmly handing him a waterskin.  Clive looked up nervously, half afraid at what he would see in their faces.  But Tyler was calm, if a little concerned for Clive’s heavy breathing.  He reached up to take the waterskin.

        “I’m alright.  Just caught a bit of the creature’s poison, that’s all.  And you?”

        “Mostly unharmed, thank the Founder.”

        “I’m alright too, thanks to your lordship.  Don’t know where you’ve been hiding ice magic but I can’t complain about the timely use.  Thank you, Lord Rosfield.”  Wade bowed his head respectfully.  Finally Clive released the breath he’d been holding.  They both had taken his magic in stride.  That would make things easier moving forward. 

        “Any time, Wade.”  He stood and held out the waterskin for him.  “Come, let’s find a dry rock to catch our breath.”  Clive led them both out of the marsh, briefly looking back at the corpse of the morbol.  As he turned back around he was hit with a fleeting, momentary, searing pain in his temple.  So brief was it that by the time he winced the pain was gone.

        Remnants of the morbol’s poison, like as not.  That had been a lie but it was nearly impossible to fight a morbol without getting some of its toxin into your body at some point.  Guess it wasn’t a lie after all.  Ignoring the occurrence he kept walking.

        They easily found a spot not far away with several dry boulders they could sit on to rest, passing their waterskin around.  Clive subtly infused a small amount of ice magic into the water to cool it slightly, a trick Jill had taught him that Wade and Tyler both seemed to appreciate.  That fight had been more difficult than the last time and they still had a long way to go to reach Phoenix Gate.  This was as good a place as any, he figured, and so after a while of quiet rest he dared speak up. 

        “I need to speak with you both before we reach Phoenix Gate.”

        “This sounds ominous,” Tyler commented.

        “If this is about the ice I swear to you I will say nothing.  Tyler won’t either.  I wouldn’t let anyone be punished for saving my life.”  Clive smirked.

        “I thank you for that.  Only my brother knows at the moment.  But this is not about the ice.  What I am about to say is known only to three others: my brother, father, and the lord commander.  I tell you because I trust you both with my life and I believe you will help us.  It is a complicated matter that I am pulling you into and it comes with two conditions.  One, you cannot speak a word of this to anyone, not even your fellow Shields.  None can know.  Second, I cannot explain yet how I know what is to come.  I can only promise you it is accurate.  Are you both willing to keep silent and accept a little insanity for Rosaria’s sake?”

        “Exactly how serious is this?” Tyler asked cautiously. 

        “Extremely.  The four of us will take action no matter your choice.  I merely seek to make it six.”

        “I’m willing to go on a little faith,” Wade announced, leaning on a knee to listen intently.  Tyler remained silent for a while, obviously thinking it over.  Clive had thought him one to prefer thought before action but he’d never had the opportunity to know for certain.

        “Alright,” he finally said.  “I have long trusted the Lord Commander and the Archduke as any proper Shield should.  You and I have now fought together, my lord, which gives me cause to trust you as well.”

        “Thank you,” Clive nodded.  “Then straight to the point.  Tonight Sanbreque will launch a surprise attack on us at Phoenix Gate.  They will arrive after the feast is mostly finished, enter without raising alarm, and kill as many as they can, the Archduke included.  We know there were infiltrators in Rosalith yesterday and we do not know how to spot them, which is why this operation to stop the contingent is so small.  This will be no easy task, even if you agree to aid us in the fight.  I will not order you to stand against staggering odds even if it is to save Rosaria.  This is your choice whether or not to fight.”

        “Choice?” Wade barked.  “Where’s the choice in this?  We help or we risk Rosaria falling!  We took an oath and I won’t back down even if I were fighting alone.”  That sounded exactly like what Clive would expect from Wade. 

        “Could Rosaria truly fall this night?”  Tyler hung his head, in disbelief or fear Clive wasn’t sure. 

        “Remember when I said I couldn’t explain?  I can tell you this much.  The Archduke will be killed and Rosaria will fall to Sanbreque tonight if we do not succeed.  It will become a province ruled by a tyrant who turns the Shields into a vile creation meant to terrify the people and purge those this tyrant does not approve of.  I cannot say if we will succeed or not.  I know that none will fight harder than my brother and I.  And I know that we will not allow this to come to pass without it being a hard-fought victory for the Imperials.  I would not throw your lives away, however.  We have a chance to stop it, one I sincerely believe in.”  Tyler looked up, holding Clive’s gaze unblinking.

        “May I speak freely, my lord?” 

        “Please do.”

        “I cannot help but notice a gap in what you aim to protect.  We march for Phoenix Gate to prevent an incursion that will, you say, bring the downfall of Rosaria.  Yet the duchess remains in Rosalith unprotected.”  Hm.  Tyler was smarter than Clive knew. 

        “My mother is the tyrant.  Vicereine Annabella will be given control over the province for her betrayal of us all.”  He spoke quietly but his hand clenched into a fist.  Thinking about all the people she had killed by the Black Shields and the bodies in Auldyl he’d arrived too late to save made him want to burn the woman at the stake.  Too many died for her ambitions.

        “The duchess?!”  Wade jumped up from his rock and looked toward Rosalith as if it might answer him.  Tyler just sighed.

        “I wish I had more difficulty believing such a thing.  If I may continue to speak plainly, it is no secret how the duchess views most people.  She makes her derision for my own family well known, as well as many other noble families.”

        “But it’s her own family!” Wade protested.  “Even if she could betray a country, how could she betray her family?  Both of her sons and her husband will be at risk tonight!”

        “Unfortunately my mother cares for only one thing: the Phoenix,” Clive said calmly.  “Sometimes I question if that includes Joshua or not.  She believes her duty was fulfilled by bearing the Phoenix.  No one else, the Archduke included, matters to her.”  Wade sputtered and grumbled as he fell back onto his chosen rock heavily.

        “That means you will need to move on the duchess soon,” Tyler surmised.  Clive nodded.

        “Yes.  But for now we have a massacre to prevent.  Will you help us?”

        “No need to ask me,” Wade bit out, still upset by the news.  “Of course I’ll help.” 

        “As will I, my lord.  Though I confess I wish I understood how you can know of this yet let it go so far.”

        “Let’s just say we didn’t know until yesterday.  We will need to organize with the others when we reach Phoenix Gate and I fear there may yet be more we cannot explain.  Just know that we will if we survive this.” 

        “Then let us be off.  We have little time to lose, it seems.”

Chapter Text

        Joshua stared at the walls of Phoenix Gate standing before him and suddenly understood completely why Clive was caught off guard in the throne room yesterday.  Phoenix Gate, intact and unburned.  The massive crater from his fight with Ifrit gone.  He had returned to the keep a couple times after that night but somehow this was worse than seeing it broken.  It was a stark reminder of what was yet to come and while he was grateful for the chance to prevent it entirely, it also meant a harsh reminder of exactly what he was preventing.  Everywhere he looked he could see the scars they had left as if they were actually there.  Fallen stone walls here, burned flags decayed from the elements over there, bloodstains everywhere that never completely faded.  As if in a trance his body carried him through the motions of entering the fortress, dismounting his chocobo, and finding a place to stand while others filtered in.  Those scars only he could see seemed so real.  He hoped that anyone looking at him would think him either tired from the journey or overwhelmed by his first time here and not notice that he thought he might trip over a crumbled stone wall that was not actually there.

        We will change history tonight if all goes well.  The realization hit him harder now than it had yesterday.  Seeing all this before him, knowing that it might still stand tomorrow, was sobering.  Humbling.  If this worked no one would have to see the things he was seeing now. 

        “Joshua.”  He jumped at his father’s voice so close to him.  It instantly dispelled the images.  Elwin placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke gently.  “You look pale.  Why don’t you go get some rest?”  Joshua nodded.  A moment alone was likely exactly what he needed.

        “I believe I shall.  Thank you, Father.”  He walked away from the bustle around him heading for his room, not seeing his father watching his back with a raised eyebrow.

        Joshua could never forget these corridors if he wanted.  The first time he’d ever fought was within these halls.  He remembered sneaking along with Sir Wade, desperately throwing out fire toward anyone not a Shield.  He’d been completely terrified.  Sir Wade had been quite capable and honorable for coming to get him so quickly without waiting for backup.  For all his bravado at the time, though, Joshua had just wanted Clive.  He was a scared little boy wanting to feel the safety his brother and Shield always gave him.  Around one more corner he stopped and stared at the floor.  This was the place he’d taken his first life.  He’d never smelled burning flesh before, not like that.  The smell and the screams had followed him in nightmares for years afterward.  Squeezing his eyes closed for a moment to push that memory aside, he turned to continue on to his room. 

        Once inside he unceremoniously threw the red coat marking him as the Phoenix onto a chair and flopped onto the bed, covering his eyes with his arm.  This was brutal.  Living through the present, remembering the future as if it were the past was not only completely confusing, it was its own hell.  He had come a long way since that night.  This night.  Whatever.  Of course Phoenix Gate would always haunt him.  How could it not?  But he had eventually found both cause and purpose after that.  While he could never forget those events, he had adjusted and moved on to find some level of peace.  It surprised him how little that seemed to matter here.  Part of him felt like that same scared little boy again.  He prayed Clive didn’t have such a difficult time once he arrived here.  Eventually the calm quiet of the room lulled him to a fitful sleep.

        He smelled blood and smoke.  Muted screams drifted through the stone halls with the distant clashing of steel against steel.  A flash of fire and a man in front of him fell screaming, burned alive by his very own flames.  With the next breath he sent those same flames to Sir Wade to heal his injuries.  If he kept going he would be alright.  He’d find Clive and Father and everything would be alright.  A blink and there was a spray of blood everywhere.  Never had he seen so much blood as when his father was decapitated.  The warm and sticky substance clung to his face.  Somebody would help, right?  Someone was screaming at him but he just couldn’t make his body move.  Then it got impossibly hot.

        Ifrit’s flames were far more intense than anything he could manage.  How was he supposed to fight something like that?  He soared high into the sky.  It was the first time he’d flown yet he could not appreciate it, driven by primal survival instinct.  Instead he hurtled down toward the monster beneath him, fighting mercilessly until it caught him.  It ended in the most excruciating pain he’d ever known.  Never could he have imagined pain like this.  The monster lashed out at him with everything it had and he could do nothing against it but struggle in vain and scream.  After one last vicious thrust of its claws through his entire body…nothing.  Just a single momentary thought: Clive, I tried.

        “Joshua!  Wake up, my boy!” 

        The nothingness around him lifted.  Joshua realized someone was shaking his shoulder.  No!  It was happening again!  He couldn’t let it.  He couldn’t let history repeat itself.  He had to act fast before it was too late! 

        “No!” he shouted with a gasped breath and Shifted across the room.  Flames encircled his hand ready to fly at his command and he crouched low preparing to react.  Breathing heavily he looked around for the threat.  And saw only his father sitting on the side of the bed Joshua had occupied moments ago.  He stared at Joshua, frozen with unblinking eyes and hand still extended to where Joshua’s shoulder had been.

        They stared at each other from across the room.  Elwin said nothing.  Joshua, breathing heavily, tried to separate dream from reality.  Sun still peaked through the windows.  His father didn’t seem alarmed by anything more than Joshua’s behavior.  As he calmed his breathing it clicked: he’d nearly attacked his father because of a dream.  He stood from the crouch he’d landed in, dismissing the flames around his hand.

        “I’m sorry, Father.”  He didn’t even try to make an excuse.  There was none to be had.  Elwin finally relaxed his posture, eyes looking over his son.

        “Would it be wrong to assume this is more of the story you have no time for?”  Joshua nodded, offering nothing else to explain.  “Of course.”  The uncomfortable silence dragged on, Joshua shuffling awkwardly without looking at his father.  “Son, would you care to answer a question that has been nagging at me?”

        “I will if I can, yes.” 

        “You have never been to Phoenix Gate.  How did you know where your room was?”  Joshua’s eyes bulged at the realization.  He hadn’t even thought of that. 

        “I actually have no ready answer for that, unfortunately,” he said through a sigh. 

        “I see.  Well, your brother should be here within the next hour or two I should think.  Try not to set anything alight, would you?”  Elwin grinned, a strained expression that did not reach his eyes, as he left the room.  Joshua shivered.  That was exactly what he feared doing.

        Fearing what nightmares might reawaken if he tried to sleep more, he instead poured himself a cup of herbed water and leaned against the window to watch the activity in the courtyard.  There were still a lot of people moving so he didn’t think he’d actually been asleep all that long despite what it felt like.  It was hard to shake the feeling that they’d all be dead by morning after reliving it in his dreams.  Strangely enough, he felt a small pulse in his chest at the thought.  A gentle warmth spread through his veins from the Phoenix.  The comfort in that warmth calmed his nerves, though there was something beneath that calm.  Anger?  No, that wasn’t quite right.  More like…  Indignation.  Indignation that those coming invaders dared to step onto his domain.  He wanted to punish them for the affront.  Wait, not punish.  He wanted them to know what they’d done.  He wanted them to know what it meant to test a Dominant.

        Joshua shook those thoughts from his head.  That wasn’t exactly something he typically thought.  It wasn’t as if anger or indignation was something he was incapable of feeling.  He just kept a careful hand on it.  Anger never led to anything good.  A calm head was always better.  A plan.  They needed a good plan.  Looking down at the courtyard of the main gate from his vantage point was an excellent place to do just that.  Risking a little faith, he focused on plans for six rather than four, believing Sir Tyler and Sir Wade would join them.  It didn’t take him long to find something that worked.  He would need to present it to the others before relying on it, but he thought it the best plan he had.

        After that his thoughts turned toward his mother and how to trap her in this plot.  Right now the only thing they had to work with was what he and Clive knew from the future.  They could never hope to act with that information alone.  Absolute though it may be, it was hardly sufficient proof in the present.  The anger he felt at her future actions threatened to flare inside him just thinking about her but he thrust that anger down with the force of a hammer on malleable steel.  Calm planning was the key, remember?  It would be best to find correspondence about the attack in her possession.  If she was smart, though, she would have burned them.  He didn’t think it likely she would be arrogant enough at this stage to assume herself untouchable.  That kind of evidence would be best kept as a wish rather than a plan.  That meant they had to implicate her somehow.  Would one of the soldiers know of her involvement?  It was possible but for a foreign invader to successfully accuse a duchess he would have to have mighty proof.  They probably couldn’t rely on that either. 

        He ended up thinking in circles until he saw Clive stride through the gate with Tyler and Wade in tow.  Joshua ran down to the courtyard as quickly as he could to greet them.  All three were dirty from the marshes but seemingly unharmed, which Joshua was thankful to see.  As soon as Clive saw him he sent his companions to clean up a bit and fetch the Archduke and Lord Commander to the war room.  Sparing no word Clive pulled Joshua to the room immediately, not stopping to clean up himself.  Joshua had spent so little time here before it fell that he hadn’t realized there was such a room.  An obvious thing to have, now that he thought about it.  The room was actually smaller than he would have expected for the size of the keep.  Smaller than his own quarters, he thought it more storeroom than war room with the boxes and barrels haphazardly pushed into corners.  The table itself at least held a map of the area.

        “We may have a problem,” Clive said as soon as he walked away from the closed door.  It was obvious from a glance that something hadn’t gone quite according to plan.  He put his hands on his hips and huffed a laugh.  “Do you remember Carrot?”  Joshua leaned against the table with a frown and crossed his arms, absently wishing the table didn’t hit the center of his back.

        “Carrot?  You mean the notorious morbol Nektar thought himself so clever in naming after finding my aversion to the accursed vegetables?”

        “Precisely.  That morbol in Stillwind was Carrot, or one like it.”

        “What?  How can that be possible?  It was a regular morbol last time was it not?”

        “It was.  Hence the problem.  I fear there may be subtle differences we are not expecting.  Why I couldn’t possibly say.”  Joshua hummed in thought.

        “Perhaps the ambient aether of our arrival?  I know not what it might have felt like for myself but the aether practically shook when you arrived.”  Clive shrugged.  “Idle speculation and something to be cautious of, to be sure.  You all seemed to be unscathed, though, thank the Founder.”  Clive looked away from him at that statement, a look he knew all too well.  “Brother, all is well, correct?” he asked sternly.

        “We are unharmed yes.  But they saw me call Shiva.”  Joshua sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

        “Well they are not calling for your branding and you sent them straight to Father.  Their reaction must not have been too terrible.”

        “It was to save Wade’s life.  They were appreciative more than anything.  I had intended to stick to flames but battle instinct kicked in and I acted without thought.”  Joshua dropped his hand back to his chest.  Clive would always do everything in his power to save a life.  They probably should have seen this coming.

        “We were always going to tell Father and Lord Murdoch anyway.  I think we can include them as well.  They seem to deserve that much.  At worst I imagine this would only move up our timeline.”

        “After seeing Carrot again I wonder if we ought not tell them all now.”

        “Tempting, I admit.  I think I would rather not jump to it yet, however.  We do not have time to explain and their faith in us cannot last forever.  If they choose to slap you in crystal fetters again we are all lost.”

        “Joshua, before they arrive.”  He looked up to his brother, finding his face pinched with worry he knew he wouldn’t show anyone else right now.  “I am fully in control of Ifrit.  You need not worry on that account.  But if he forces Ifrit from me tonight, promise me you will do what you must.  Stop me, no matter what.”  Joshua gripped his arm tighter.  He didn’t want to fight again.  He couldn’t even be sure he was capable of giving that fight everything he had knowing it was Clive.  “Please.  No one else can do this for me.  I’m entrusting Rosaria to you, Joshua.  Do not let me destroy it.”  He couldn’t stand Clive’s pleading eyes so he looked away.

        “Alright, Clive,” he agreed quietly.  For the first time he had some idea of how his brother must have felt after finding the prison Joshua had created for Ultima.  Clive was asking him to kill him if it came to that.  And he couldn’t argue with him.  He knew as well as Clive that if it came to that point, if he had to fight Ifrit again, Clive was no longer controlling it.  All he could do was pray it didn’t go that far.  “But remember this.  If I see Ifrit tonight, he better damned well be fighting with me, not against me.”  The threat was idle, he knew.  That was his greatest fear, that Ifrit would arise again.

        The door opened suddenly to admit Elwin, Murdoch, Tyler, and Wade, putting an appreciated end to the conversation.  The four men looked at them knowing they had interrupted something but said nothing of it.  Instead the six of them crowded around the table.  And once again Joshua had forgotten his height change.  How, he had no idea since he was just leaning against the table.  Grumbling he pulled a box over to stand on, one that may have been just a tiny bit singed when he let go.  Whoever made him this small again would one day answer to the Phoenix!

        “Clive, I swear by the flames if you say one word I will revoke my blessing,” he threatened while climbing onto the box.  Clive cocked an eyebrow at him curiously.

        “Can you do that?”

        “Test me in this and you shall receive that answer!”  Clive snickered and desperately tried to bite back his smile, failing miserably of course.  Joshua laughed in spite of himself.  What did it matter if he could revoke it?  He still had seven Eikons, not to mention he was capable of simply taking it if he so desired.  Not that he ever would, Joshua knew.  Although, now that he thought about it, he remembered seeing the Phoenix’s wings from Clive’s back before he died in Origin.  It felt right, like something had finally been put in its proper place.  Maybe he should give it to him again.

        “Right, let’s begin.”  Clive quickly wiped the smile from his mouth to start their strategy meeting.  Wade, however, was still trying not to laugh.  Guess he couldn’t revoke his blessing for someone else laughing.  “This will not be a direct assault.  The Imperials will slip in through the main gate without raising an alarm after the feast has ended.  Ideas?”

        “Without alarm means the guard are either theirs or will be killed in the process,” Joshua surmised thoughtfully.  The plan he’d come up with earlier could still work, but might be a little more risky.

        “You truly believe there are traitors amongst our ranks?” Lord Murdoch snapped, taken aback by the idea.  “When you spoke of infiltrators I imagined staff not Shields.” 

        “There are traitors.  Or if they are not traitors, they wear a Shield’s armor and I cannot identify them.  I would not risk mistaking the lives of loyal Shields for traitors.”  This was one place his memory failed him completely.  Try as he might he could not recall a single detail about the men who had killed Father.  The moment was simply too traumatic.  Clive caught his eye, looking at him with furrowed brow.

        Are you certain?  Joshua nodded. 

        Yes.  Clive cocked his head. 

        How?  He glanced at their father and then placed a hand on his sword.

        They killed him.  Clive’s eyes went wide and he audibly gasped.

        “By the flames,” he murmured aloud.  He closed his eyes and turned away from the table, back of his hand to his mouth as if he might be sick.  After a moment he turned back to Joshua, eyes still tight.  “You never told me.”

        “The specifics did not matter.” 

        “My apologies, Your Grace, but did they just…” Wade stage whispered on the other side of the table.

        “Have a silent conversation?  Yes.  My sons seem to have grown rather adept at that recently.”  Joshua dragged his attention back to his father, who looked at him suspiciously yet again.  They couldn’t keep this up much longer.  At this rate he was going to figure it out for himself before they ever got the chance to explain.  Clive cleared his throat rather pointedly.

        “Pardon me for that.  I believe it best to lure them into the courtyard before making our move.”  Curious looks continued as Clive kept going like nothing had happened, but they silently chose to drop it.

        “Inviting them in could prove risky,” Tyler commented.

        “Yes, I agree,” Elwin replied thoughtfully.  “But corralling them into a surprise attack of our own will be our only chance.”  Joshua smirked.  This was a good time to reveal the plan he’d come up with.

        “I have an idea that could take out a large number of them at once.  If we don’t mind the courtyard taking some damage.”

Chapter Text

        The plan was as simple as could be.  Tyler and Wade would await the host outside, waving them in without paying much attention.  The appearance of laziness was the key here.  When they ordered the gate open they would immediately slip inside to avoid a knife to the throat, retreating to the guardhouse under pretense of drinks.  There Elwin and Murdoch would be awaiting any Imperials who followed them in.  That left the courtyard for Clive and Joshua.  Clive would be center stage in this trap to keep them in position.  Joshua, however, was the lynchpin of the whole plan.  He proposed a trap to lure the Imperials into where he would set off a series of explosions of Phoenix fire.  With luck it would significantly thin their numbers before anything else happened.  With numbers thinned and their retreat cut off by those in the guardhouse, the real battle could begin. 

        Murdoch had already released the guards to join the feast.  No one questioned the order coming from the Lord Commander, strange though it was.  If any were watching the gate, it should look as if the Shields were simply lax in their presumed safety tonight.  Meanwhile Tyler and Wade had begun moving carts, barrels, and anything else they could find to funnel the invaders into a good position for the trap.  All that was left now was to actually set it. 

        “One last thing,” Clive said when they’d done everything they could save Joshua’s work.  “If Joshua or myself tells you to run or if you see the Phoenix, run.  Do not question it.  Do not turn around.  Do not try to help.  Take who you can and run until you cannot run anymore.  It matters not to where so long as you get away from here.”

        “Son, I will not—”  Clive cut his father off with a raised hand and stern glare.

        “This is not up for debate,” he said harshly.  His father quieted in surprise.  “Agree or we will do this ourselves.”

        “The other enemy which may or may not appear,” Murdoch guessed.

        “Yes.  Should that enemy show itself, Joshua will be the only one who can stop it.  There will be no containing the damage wrought.”

        “What kind of enemy is this?” Wade wondered in a quiet voice Clive didn’t think he intended to be heard.  Nevertheless he chose to ignore the question despite his father’s half expectant look.  He couldn’t tell them right now that the enemy would be himself.  The thought was cut short by the sound of Lord Murdoch unsheathing his sword, Tyler and Wade following suit, and saluting.  Not the Archduke, but Clive.

        “By your command, my lord,” Murdoch declared.  Clive’s stomach flipped at the sight, the blind faith these three placed in him.  And the fact that his father seemed to agree despite his reticence, nodding his head with them.  But it was his command that got Murdoch killed last time.  He shoved that thought aside swiftly with a firm nod at them.  That was then; this was now. 

        “Let us do our duty and be done with this.”

        Splitting up they each took up their assigned posts.  Joshua began moving around the courtyard to place his Phoenix feathers in strategically chosen locations, occasionally rolling a shoulder as he did so to readjust his unfamiliar gear.  Clive followed him to suggest a few places where an explosion would create secondary damage.  Neither said much.  Not much needed said.  It surprised Clive that he felt as calm about this as he did.  In a strange way they had already done what he feared most: prepare.  Now it came down to a fight.  That part he was used to.  With traps laid Clive retreated to sit on a barrel near the entryway to wait.  Joshua followed, not needing to hide just yet.  They should still have time.  Last time Clive had been carrying a box for an older servant when the attack began, though, and so he had been paying little attention.

        “I kept seeing it as I know it after I arrived,” Joshua commented staring at the ground.  “Now I understand how you felt in the throne room yesterday.”

        “I’m surprised I did not, in truth.  Too concerned with Carrot,” he snickered.  “I cannot say I will miss the crater we created.”

        “Assuming we do not reenact the event.”

        “Hm.”  They fell quiet, sounds of the feast filtering out into the courtyard.  Many Shields were still taking their ease without the Archduke, laughing uproariously at some unheard joke.  It reminded him of their last time here, sitting under the moon speaking of duty.  Had he only known how wrong he had been.  “I told you once that it was your duty as the Dominant to bear the fate of Rosaria.” 

        “Every man has his duty, you said.”  That last night, under these exact same stars, that they would be together for eighteen years.  Looking back on it Clive wished he had said anything but what he had.

        “I did.  But we are not from that world any longer.  While I will choose this duty to protect the duchy tonight, there are now two Rosarian Dominants.  Never again will this be your burden alone to bear.”

        “The world is ours to save,” he murmured, repeating the words he’d said to Clive in anger on Ash.  “As you will not allow me to bear the burden of the duchy, I will not allow you to bear the burden of the world.  This night will begin a new day in which the twin flames will burn as one.” 

        “Twin flames, eh?”  Clive grinned at his brother.  “I rather like the sound of that.”  Joshua grinned back, the tension he’d been carrying vanishing.

        “I have been known to have a way with words.”  They both laughed softly. 

        “Go on.  You better get into position.  We’ve no way of knowing when they will arrive.”

        As Joshua trotted off to hide Clive drew his sword and laid it across his lap, taking a cloth to the steel absently.  Did it need polished?  No.  But he had developed something of a flair for the dramatic while acting the role of Cid.  He silently laughed to himself.  Cid would love this, going to such ridiculous lengths to change things and making an impression while he was at it.  He’d have to do him justice.  His hand paused on his sword.  Cid was alive again.  That was going to be awkward.  A relief to see him again but awkward. 

        Minutes ticked by slowly.  The remnant sounds of the feast faded as Shields finally decided to call it a day.  There would be no hiding the attack once Joshua’s trap was sprung.  Many of those Shields would come running, he felt sure, to aid in the fight.  They’d had to be careful in whom to trust even though he knew most of them were trustworthy.  But the wrong word to the wrong person would spell their doom.  Knowing that the ones who had apparently killed his father the first time were Shields, it was truly their only option.  He prayed they were imposters rather than traitors.  The idea of Shields betraying Rosaria and killing their Archduke and his heir made him nauseous. 

        It felt like hours had passed though it could not have been nearly that long.  How long would the others wait before deciding the brothers had lied?  Longer than this, he knew, but he was still acutely aware of some unknown time limit.  There was still the possibility they had tipped someone off without knowing.  They had been cautious.  Surely that wasn’t the case.  He wished he would have paid more attention to the timing of the attack the first time round.  Just as he was beginning to get restless he heard the gate creak into motion ahead of him.  His heart stuttered with the sound.

        Imperials began filing in slowly, looking around as if not in a hurry.  Clive continued cleaning his sword.  Patience.  Calm.  Wait.  He was far enough away that they wouldn’t notice him immediately.  Bright silver armor glinted in the low light of the courtyard.  At a glance he counted at least two dozen.  A few in what appeared to be Rosarian garb trotted ahead of the main group, right towards Clive.  They slid to a stop when they saw him, waiting for what could only be their commander.  Clive remembered fighting that captain the last time, now that he thought about it. 

        “What’s the holdup?” the captain barked.  Clive glanced up nonchalantly, though he took in every soldier he saw with sharp, practiced eyes.  More than two dozen, it appeared.

        “Evening,” he said and went back to his sword.

        “Who’re you?  What are you doing out here?”  Guess he didn’t look much like a normal Shield in his usual attire.  After stowing the cloth he hopped off the barrel, allowing his momentum to carry him swaggering forward a couple steps in his best impression of Cid.  His sword he held casually in hand as if ill prepared to use it.

        “Isn’t it obvious?  Guess Sanbreque missed that in officer training.  I’ll be your roadblock this evening.”  None dared move in the face of his apparent lunacy.  If they only knew what he could truly do.  He smirked at the thought.  Grasping his sword he strode straight to the false Shields.  “You look better in silver, by the way.”  Before he’d finished the sentence he pulled the Phoenix’s flames forth, pressing more aether than usual into them and swinging them wide in a burst of wings and feathers to consign each of those fake Shields into the very flames they supposedly served.

        Their captain’s order was lost in a mass of explosions surrounding the soldiers from all sides as Joshua set off his trap.  Heat suffused the area that Clive was barely two paces outside of.  The thunderous sound reverberated off the walls, deafening everyone watching and burying the screams of dying men.  Dirt and blood alike burned in the fire creating a fine mist around the ground.  As close as he was Clive had to turn away from the blinding brilliance of the show and cover his eyes until it faded. 

        “The Phoenix will not permit this transgression.”  The low, undulating threat was growled into the air as the flames retreated.  Joshua strode confidently out of the shadows, semi-primed with a dangerous look on his face.  Clive did a double take.  Joshua’s adult face.  Somehow he had taken on the appearance and voice of his adult self while channeling this much of the Phoenix.  And it was intimidating.  Those glowing blue eyes burned at the sight of the invaders.  Several of the Imperial soldiers ran to the gates screaming in fear of the Dominant only to be stopped by four armed men awaiting them.  The captain looked back at his contingent.  Joshua’s trap had taken about half their number.  Less than Clive had hoped, more than he’d feared.  The dragoons were relatively unharmed as well, as expected.  They were harder to kill than that.  Despite losing half his number the captain scoffed.

        “The Phoenix is a child.  I know not what trickery this is but by Holy Greagor we will abide by His Radiance’s command!”  Leaping towards Joshua the captain swung in a diagonal arc toward his shoulder only to have his sword cleave the air when Joshua Shifted away.

        “Clive!” Joshua called.  “I will attend to this one.  Do what you must.” 

        One nod was all Clive afforded him, knowing he could do this.  He’d learned a painful lesson few others ever had: his brother was a fierce and competent fighter and needed less protection than most believed, Clive himself included.  Charging forward with Ifrit’s flames he pushed several less armored fighters into an optimal position for him to release a charged burst of fire.  The smell of charred skin tickled his nose but he’d fought far too many battles to truly notice it anymore.  Ignoring them for the moment he thrust his blade through the torso of a charging soldier, pulled, and used the momentum to deliver a backhanded slash to the first of the group he’d burned.  Then he heard the telltale jingle of armor above him. 

        He barely had the chance to dodge before the dragoon’s lance pierced the earth where he’d been standing.  He desperately needed more room to maneuver.  Carefully he scanned the battlefield.  Joshua was holding his own against the captain, moving far more assuredly now that he was a comfortable height.  Murdoch and Elwin were clearing out those soldiers who had chosen to flee, now fighting like the caged animals they’d become in the face of their one-time prey.  Tyler and Wade meanwhile had thrown themselves further into the fray to thin the numbers of the rest of the Imperials.  Aiming in just the right direction to avoid hitting allies, Clive swept his blade through the air, sending out a wall of flames and cutting down the few enemies left in front of him while pushing the dragoon back a few steps.  Then he Shifted backward out of the way, confident the dragoon would follow and trusting his allies to handle the rest.

        Rodney hadn’t had to fight for his life like this in years.  Not since the northern territories were put down.  He wasn’t actively thinking of that now, though he’d spent much of the time before this began considering what they were up against.  A battle like this had a way of pushing all conscious thought from mind, leaving only sharpened instinct to ensure survival.  It was why they trained religiously: so that when the time came they didn’t need to think.  That strange sense of calm was a boon at times like this.  It didn’t let him count the enemy to know exactly how outnumbered they were.  It didn’t give room for doubt to creep into his mind and spread the fear that his decisions could lead to the end of the ducal line.  It didn’t let him run to protect the young men who had brought them into this or worry for their safety.  He had a job to do and by the flames he would see it done.

        With a grunt he kicked an Imperial hard in the gut to send him reeling into a broken wheel ring, pausing only long enough to be sure the sharp iron did its work.  A gurgle of blood was proof the wound would be fatal.  Satisfied Rodney turned to the next just in time to dance out of the way of another Imperial stumbling his direction.  A step, a spin, and a slice through the skin peaking beneath the helmet and the man fell so fast the spray of blood fell only on the slick stone.  Across from him Tyler spun his sword in hand with a grateful nod. 

        There was no time for even a breath though.  A quick duck under a wild swing gave Rodney a lucky nip at the attacker’s exposed knee when the swing carried him too far.  Elwin called his name and Rodney shoved the attacker in his direction to be skewered through the neck.  Elwin pulled his sword out the side, taking half the man’s throat with it.  Behind him a half wounded idiot charged forward hoping to get a lucky shot at the Archduke’s back while he was distracted.  Before his friend was caught by surprise Rodney stabbed quickly forward nearly close enough to nick Elwin himself, plunging his sword deep into the other man’s shoulder at the joint.

        “Holding up, Elwin?” he panted, pulling his sword free and bringing it up swiftly to block yet another blow.  Elwin grunted with the effort of his own block and shoved back hard.

        “Just like old times, Rodney.” 

        Rodney barked half a laugh and was about to respond but was cut off by a shout from Wade being thrown roughly to the ground, pinned under a heavy boot and his axe skittering across the ground in Tyler’s direction.  Tyler himself was locked to the hilt with his own opponent and couldn’t get free, fear painting his features looking to the friend he could not save.  Rodney shouted to Elwin to take the one before him and ran towards Wade.  The sword raised high above the Shield, threatening to end him in one motion if Rodney wasn’t quick enough.  It began moving.  And Rodney thrust his sword with all his might into the foe’s back.  He stabbed the Imperial bastard with enough force to pierce him through completely before the sword moved more than an inch.  He wrenched his sword free and shoved the body away as it fell.

        “Are you alright?” he asked, holding a hand out to Wade.

        “I am now.”  Wade pulled himself off the ground.  A sickening crunch pulled their attention back to Tyler to see him cleaving through the middle of his foe with Wade’s axe.  Rodney couldn’t help but blink in surprise.  He knew Tyler disliked the heavy weapon and frankly hadn’t thought him capable of using it so effectively.  Then again, battle did strange things to men.  Tyler knelt to pick up his own sword then tossed the axe back to its owner.

        “Lose something?”

        “Don’t see you complaining,” Wade retorted, hefting the axe over his shoulder.

        “Nearly there,” Rodney encouraged them both.  “The last push!”  He quickly returned to the Archduke while the other two ran the other direction.  Almost there.  The fact they hadn’t been overwhelmed just then was proof of that.  The last push.

        Battle was a funny thing.  It could make men stronger than they thought capable or weaker than they feared.  It could overwhelm the senses or sharpen them into a deadly calm.  As Imperial after Imperial fell to their blades and every check to his allies found them alive and well, that mental calm slipped just a tiny bit.  A small amount of conscious thought returned, just enough to think that they might actually pull this off after all.

        The dragoon followed Clive quickly, nearly piercing his thigh with a thrust but he managed to swipe the lance away from him, twist, slash at the dragoon, and jump back with a burst of fire.  Just as he tensed to leap back toward his enemy he heard another jingle above him.  He dodged but didn’t quite get out of the shockwave from the impact.  He tumbled inelegantly to the side before rising to one knee.  One dragoon was a foe most wouldn’t want to tangle with due to their high agility and long reach.  Two was just asking for trouble. 

        One thrust his lance forward again putting Clive on the defensive and right into the reach of the other lance.  He felt the familiar burn of the lance slicing his upper arm and hissed.  Once again calling on Ifrit he positioned several orbs of fire around him and Shifted to the back of the dragoons.  He managed to get in a hit or two before they stumbled out of the way of the fireballs assaulting their backs along with his sword.  One crouched and soared high into the air while the other pinned Clive in position.  Rather than dodge this time he pulled those motes of fire above and semi-primed for the strength to withstand the shock he knew was coming.  With fire and steel he forced the dragoon’s lance enough to throw him slightly off his mark, enough that Clive could Shift around him for a counterstrike before dropping the semi-prime. 

        This dance continued without end.  Clive had nicks all over but nothing serious enough to be concerned about or hinder his movements.  The dragoons had similar wounds peppering their own bodies, and similar reactions to them.  They were all too agile, too well trained, too well fought to gain an upper hand.  Had he not been fighting for his life he would have praised their abilities.  Perhaps a comment for Dion later.  The hardest part once again was refusing to call on the majority of his other abilities.  These dragoons could have been handled easily had he not been holding back so much but there was no telling what might happen with other elements in play.  He would not risk showing his cards unless someone needed urgent aid.  The tide of the battle changed abruptly anyway with a large ball of fire originating from behind Clive hitting one of his enemies’ legs.  Moments later Joshua ran up beside him to help.

        “The captain?” he asked quickly.

        “Dealt with, as are most of the others.” came the brief answer.

        Unfortunately for the dragoons, the Rosfield brothers proved deathly efficient in battle.  Neither of them could come close to touching Joshua, especially since he was semi-primed.  He dodged or Shifted out of their way with ease.  And with his flames stifling their movements Clive was free to take advantage of their every weakness.  At the moment Joshua let lose a bolt of fire, Clive Shifted to the side of its target and sliced into the unarmored flesh.  When one lunged at Joshua, Clive Shifted to the other side to deliver yet another blow.  As Clive dodged around a thrust, Joshua flashed over with a thrust of his own.  The tag-team effort wore down the dragoons quickly and the pair fell almost simultaneously. 

        “You know,” Clive panted through gasping breaths as he dropped to one knee, “I thought you were supposed to have more stamina when younger, not less.”

        “Whoever said that clearly has never attempted to test the assumption.”  Joshua’s voice changed from adult to child halfway through his sentence as he dropped the semi-prime and sat heavily on the ground.  Clive glanced back over at the dragoons.

        “Is Dion the commander of the dragoons at this point?”

        “Of course not unless you believe a boy of ten summers is capable of such a feat.  He is my age, remember?”

        “Right.  Obviously.”  Joshua snickered at the seemingly obvious but what could he say?  The two of them had hit it off well at the remembrance ceremony while Clive had remained largely out of sight.  Breath finally returning to normal Clive looked up to survey the rest of the battlefield. 

        Before him laid many bodies.  Over top of them stood Shields who had rushed out to aid them in repelling the attack.  Those Imperials still moving were being held at sword-point.  The fighting seemed to be over.  Now that he looked, the damage from Joshua’s trap had been extensive.  It didn’t damage the walls too much, thankfully, but it did ignite much of the surrounding wooden structures, scorched the stone, and toppled over some lose bricks as well as damaging some of the parapet.  The pockmarks in the ground were the worst of it.  No one would be getting a cart through that for a while.  Wade jogged over to the brothers.  Behind him Clive could see his father and the Lord Commander giving orders while Tyler leaned against what once was a cart holding his stomach gingerly.  Clive let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

        “Are you alright, my lord?  Your highness?” Wade asked quickly, offering his hand to Clive. 

        “I’m alright,” he answered.  He winced and hissed as he stood, the adrenaline of battle no longer masking the myriad of injuries he’d received.  He held a hand to his upper arm, easily the worst of them.  “Nothing serious.”

        “I am also well,” Joshua commented as Wade helped him up too.  “Their captain was surprisingly less formidable than I had anticipated.”

        “I would guess that was the benefit of the Phoenix, Your Highness.  Didn’t know a Dominant could do that.”  Joshua’s lips turned up ever so slightly as he glanced at Clive knowingly.  Exactly how he could look like his adult self was just one more mystery they probably couldn’t solve. 

        “How fare the others?” he said instead of explain.  Wade shrugged.

        “A few nicks and a lot of bruises.  Tyler got the worst with a sword graze across the belly.  It isn’t bad, though.”

         Joshua’s lips turned to a frown and he marched immediately over to Tyler, Wade and Clive following behind more slowly.  He summoned the Phoenix’s healing flames to heal the Shield, which he didn’t seem to want judging by the shake of his head and hand held out to stop him.  Not to be dissuaded Joshua merely shoved his hand away and continued healing. 

        “May I ask a personal question, my lord?” Wade quietly asked as they made their way through craters.  Clive nodded.

        “Go ahead.”

        “You and your brother are close.  Why would he not treat you as he did Tyler?”  He tilted his head toward the rag Clive held on the gash on his arm.  Clive chuckled.

        “He knows I won’t allow it.”  Wade raised an eyebrow prompting him further.  “I dislike my brother using his gifts for me.  So we came to an arrangement.  If it was not life threatening he would allow me to treat an injury how I saw fit and I would defer to his judgement on what constituted a life threatening injury.”  They’d had to do something after Joshua insisted on traveling with him.  He’d been so eager to see Clive rid of any injury that he’d called on those healing flames to treat things Clive wouldn’t have even paid attention to.  It was the only time the hideaway had seen them bicker.  Several tried to force the brothers to make up by the end of it only to find that neither harbored any ill feelings.

        “I see.”  If Wade had any further comments on the arrangement he didn’t voice them.  Joshua had finished by the time they approached but before they could say anything another voice shouted for them.  Elwin practically ran toward them, completely disregarding the usual decorum he would show for his station.  Clive wasn’t sure how much of that display they saw and at the moment he didn’t particularly care.  It would seem his father didn’t either.

        “My sons,” he called warmly, grasping each by a shoulder.  Tyler and Wade politely moved out of the way for him and began directing cleanup efforts in his stead.  “Are you both alright?”  He looked at the blood lingering on Clive with tight-knit brows. 

        “We are fine, Father,” Joshua answered him.  He nodded, relieved, then with a hand on Joshua’s back and Clive’s shoulder he pushed them forward toward the entryway.

        “Good.  Come, we will get you both to a healer.  You have done more than your part.  I never imagined you could fight as you do.”  He had to be wondering how but he didn’t mention it, which Clive was grateful for.  Looking around as they walked it was easy to see how ruthlessly efficient their plan had been.  A great number of bodies were burned beyond recognition, their polished armor now stained with soot and blood.  How would the Empire respond to such a casualty list?

        “Your Grace!” Murdoch called, stopping them on their way.  He appeared mostly uninjured, thank the Founder.  It seemed Clive and Tyler had taken more injury than anyone else.  That was something he was happy to live with under the circumstances.  Murdoch looked the brothers up and down appraisingly as he approached before setting his attention on Elwin behind them.  “What would you prefer we do with the injured Imperials and the bodies of the rest?”

        “How many injured?”

        “Only a few, Your Grace.”  Elwin sighed, eyes darkening for a moment before returning to their usual demeanor.  Clive wouldn’t blame him for wanting to put them to the sword. 

        “Treat their wounds.  Their fate will be decided later.  As for the bodies, prepare them for the pyre.”

        “Yes, Your Grace.”  Murdoch nodded to the remaining Shields and they pulled their prisoners to their feet.  Others had already begun pulling bodies out of the keep to await a pyre, leaving only their original ensemble of six in the courtyard.  Murdoch turned his attention back to the brothers.  “You both fought well.  I am glad we chose to heed your warning.”

        “As am I, Lord Commander,” Clive bowed his head slightly.  “We wou—”  Clive stopped with a gasp as something whizzed past his head faster than his eyes could see, leaving a cold trail on his cheek in its wake.  Behind him he heard the sickening squelch of pierced flesh and shattered bone and an alarmed shout from someone followed by a heavy thud.  He needed to see what had happened.  He needed to turn around!  But the amount of aether suddenly nearby forced his eyes up of their own accord instead to settle on what had sent such a projectile.  It took all the air from his lungs.  Looming larger than life up in the night sky above Phoenix Gate…

        “Shiva.”

Chapter Text

Elsewhere  

     The sky was on fire.  Jill ran from the infirmary with Torgal close at her heels out to the back of the hideaway to get a better look.  Half the residents were already there staring upward.  This couldn’t be good.  She could feel the aether from it and it was a tremendous amount.  Was this Clive’s doing or Ultima’s?  Ultima’s, surely.  No mere mortal could possibly control something like this no matter how powerful Clive was.  Could that mean…?  No, she wouldn’t let that consume her.  He would come back to her.  He promised.  And Jill had faith in him.  But that faith brought her no closer to understand what she was seeing.  Nor did it explain why it felt almost familiar.

        Strangely no one seemed concerned or worried.  They looked on in awe and wonder, marveling at the undulating hues weaving in and out of the flames.  It looked like the auroras she could just barely remember watching before going to Rosalith.  In fact it was more aurora than flame at times.  Purples and blues and greens reminded her more of the north than the flames she was seeing.  She reached down to Torgal, finding some comfort in his soft fur.  He whined in mirrored concern.  No one else was concerned but she couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.  Like there was something else in those flames she couldn’t quite perceive.  It put her on edge.

        If she focused all of her attention on them they felt alive somehow.  There was emotion attached to their aether.  She could feel it in some inexplicable way.  What she felt was incredible sorrow.  Sadness and sorrow.  Loss.  Regret.  They mourned for something they held dear.  Her heart went out to them.  She understood that feeling, of being on the verge of shattering from everything she’d lost.  She would wish that understanding on no one.

        Unacceptable.  The word sprang unbidden to her mind.  It felt like that word came from the aurora itself.  It made no sense.  What was unacceptable?

        Unacceptable!  It shouted louder, straining to be heard over a cacophony of noise none could hear.

        Unacceptable!  The shriek pierced the heavens and sent shockwaves through Jill’s skull.  She clapped her hands over her ears as she cried out and stumbled to her knees in shock and pain.  Everything suddenly went white, reality fading from her grasp.

Your terms are unacceptable.  I want a better world.  I dare to seek a better world.  I will endure what I must to see it so.

        Those ethereal words fell upon Jill’s consciousness as an understanding rather than something directly spoken.  There was so much pain in that understanding.  Pain and a conviction she could not name.  A desire bordering on a plea.  Do better.  Do better?  Better than what?  What was that even supposed to mean?  There was no answer.  Only silence met her confusion in this empty space.

        Jill’s awareness was slow in returning.  Swimming through currents of feelings not her own she found it difficult to separate the pieces of herself.  With great effort she forced herself to remember the feeling of Clive’s lips on hers in a field of snow daisies.  The sound of Joshua laughing loudly as Gav animatedly told him about the day he met Clive.  The excited look on Mid’s face as she prattled on about her engine so fast Jill was certain she no longer formed words.  It helped her pull the threads of herself away from the phantom sorrow.

        When she did she realized she was lying on something hard, dull ache in her head from the noise.  Did she faint from that shriek?  That would be embarrassing.  It shook her to her core but she had thought she had more endurance than that.  No one seemed worried, though.  She didn’t hear any voices or shuffling.  Had something happened to everyone?  Now that she thought about it, it was extremely quiet.  Quiet enough to hear a pin drop.  As she had the thought there was a tiny whine accompanied by something wet sliding over her face.

        “Torgal?” she breathed.  Another high-pitched whine answered her.  A wet nose nuzzled under her hand.  It felt wrong.  Small.

        The first thing she saw when she pulled her eyes open was the blurry red of whatever she was lying facedown on.  Blinking several times a pattern came into focus.  It was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t quite place it.  Wait.  Red?  Shouldn’t that be decking planks?  She’d been outside with everyone else.  Nothing in the hideaway had a floor like this.  Gathering her strength she pushed herself up onto one arm to have a better look.  And then sprang straight to her feet.  Familiar.  She did know that pattern.  She’d spent hours tracing it as a scared and lonely little girl.  That chair where she would read or practice her sewing.  That desk where she wrote letters to her parents.  She spun around frantically, taking in every inch.  She knew every bit of it.  This room.  Her room.  In Rosalith castle.  Stumbling backward she caught sight of herself in the mirror.  A girl of twelve summers looked back at her, a small wolf pup at her side.

        No.  No no no no no no no.  This was some bizarre dream.  A very realistic feeling one.  Brought on by fear.  And a longing for simplicity.  Yes.  That had to be it.  Running to the windows she wrenched them open to look outside.  The castle grounds were exactly as she remembered them.  Flowers shifted in the warm breeze, their nostalgic fragrance floating up to greet her.  She recognized some of the gardeners below, buried half to their elbows in the dirt.  How could she recognize gardeners she hadn’t seen in so long?  If she didn’t know better she could almost swear this was real.

        “I have completely lost my mind, haven’t I?” she murmured absently.

        Torgal yipped again and as she turned to look at him her attention was grabbed by something else.  A thin layer of frost seeped across the window glass from her fingertips.  She watched as it spread from one pane to the next.  That painfully familiar frost she could feel in the depths of her soul, the manifestation of her Eikon’s power.  The Eikon she should no longer carry.  Why would Shiva be here?  Jill was certain she would never bring Shiva into a dream like this, not even subconsciously.  And when Shiva was in her dreams, Jill was never in control.  This was far too calm for one of those nightmares.  It was all so completely…normal.

        Normal.  If it was so ordinary, could she find Clive?  Or Joshua?  Tentative footsteps carried her to the door.  If this were a dream for simplicity surely she could enjoy it for a moment before she had to wake up.  Where might they be?  Searching her memory to dredge up long forgotten information she stepped quietly out into the hall.  Clive would probably be in the bailey, knowing him.  And if Josha wasn’t there watching he would be in the library.  Or with her.  Jill’s face twisted at the thought of coming face to face with the traitoress again.  Not wanting to let Annabella spoil this for her, though, she set her sights on the library first.

        Jill let herself enjoy the walk.  Her last time here had been…less than pleasant.  And she’d had no time to wander around anyway.  In an odd way it was nice.  She never thought that would be her reaction when she was growing up.  Time certainly had a way of changing things.  It seemed a little quiet around the castle, like that moment to breathe after a flurry of activity.  Torgal ran in circles around her, happy to be out of her room.  Hm.  That was odd, wasn’t it?  He would usually run to Clive when free.  Oh well.  It was probably because he’d been right beside her when she fainted and her mind kept him here.  The company was nice to have.  Her pace slowed near the reception hall when she heard murmurs flitting through the cracked door.  Torgal suddenly stopped running around and rushed quietly to it.  He looked back at her, then at the door and laid down.  Curious, Jill followed stealthily.

        “…accompanying me to Phoenix Gate tomorrow to collect my darling boy from the Imperials.  I will not see him out of my sight for a moment longer than necessary.  We shall not be returning.  Prepare my things.”  Jill couldn’t breathe.  That was Annabella, the last person she wanted to see.  But Phoenix Gate?  That couldn’t be right.  “And gather my traveling attire.  They will be escorting us to Oriflamme.  Speak a word of this to anyone and I guarantee you will not see the light of day again.” 

        Phoenix Gate.  Imperials.  Annabella.  Gathering Torgal into her arms swiftly Jill ran back to her room at a dead run, not caring who could hear her footfalls.  She shoved the door open, nearly slammed it closed, locked it, and slid down to the floor, Torgal jumping out of her arms.  Phoenix Gate.  She was talking about the attack on Phoenix Gate.  If she was going tomorrow, that meant tonight.  It would happen tonight.  Her breath came in hitched gasps, very nearly to the point of hyperventilating.  This was a dream.  It was just a dream.  But…  Why would she dream of it?  Out of fear? 

Seek a better world.  Do better.

        The mysterious voice’s words rang through her mind.  What if…  She had Shiva now.  She knew now.  She could do something now.  She didn’t have to be left behind.  Her breathing calmed.  She gave Clive Shiva because she believed in him.  To lend him her strength.  To never be truly apart from him.  Shiva stirred in her chest.  But he couldn’t stand against what he didn’t know.  He couldn’t stand against Ultima yet.  Jill stood, determination spreading through her as solid as her own ice.  She didn’t care if this was a dream.  She didn’t care if she couldn’t change anything in the long run.  All she cared about right now was that if she knew and she did nothing she would never forgive herself when she woke up.  Dream or no, she wouldn’t allow Clive and Joshua to go through this again.  If she could see them smile at Phoenix Gate, even for a moment, it would be worth it.  That was the funny thing, though.  Deep, deep down, she was starting to wonder if this truly was a dream.

        “Let’s go, Torgal.  We are not waiting behind this time.”

        Without waiting for his answer she grabbed him again, climbed up the window sill and jumped, Snapping before she hit the ground to land rather gracefully.  Paying no attention to the gardeners who were gaping at her she put Torgal down and they ran.  Out in the bailey she managed to get a chocobo while the stablehand wasn’t looking.  She would apologize later.  Once outside the gate she climbed into the saddle, setting Torgal on her lap, and took off through the streets of Rosalith.  In a stroke of luck no one stopped her and she left the city with no one asking questions. 

        It was already late in the afternoon when she left.  She barely held back the fear that she would be too late.  By the time she finally arrived at Eastpool it was well past dark.  Most people would have marveled at how quickly she made it.  Jill was frustrated enough to prime right there and fly the rest of the way.  The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge she may well have to fight once she arrived.  She decided to leave her exhausted chocobo behind with a kindhearted stableboy already giving the poor bird the loving attention she deserved.  From there she and Torgal would go on foot.  At least the Blight was no longer in their way.  She was running out of time.  She knew she was running out of time.  This was all taking far too long.  Maybe she shouldn’t have left her mount in Eastpool but the poor thing was exhausted.  It wouldn’t make the trip.  A mile out of town her fear finally won out.  Ensuring she was a safe distance from the village she stopped to make sure no one was around.  Satisfied, she looked down at the pup running beside her.

        “Torgal.  Can you find your own way to Clive if I go ahead?”  There was a nervous whine then a more confident yip.  “Good boy.  I’m going to make sure those two do not hurt each other.”

        Torgal yipped again and took off running.  Jill, on the other hand, tugged on that frosty piece of her soul to prime.  She had never particularly liked being Shiva.  The things she’d done were monstrous and new outlook or not she remembered them every time she primed.  At this moment, however, she was thankful for this power that still responded to her.  It responded so well that she began to think just a little more that this might not be a dream.  Whatever this was, whatever was happening, she would do what she could.  So she set off through the remaining expanse between Eastpool and Phoenix Gate, skirting along the tops of the trees as fast as she could.  Never again did she want to see Clive’s guilt or Joshua’s shame.  Never again did she want to visit a hidden grave for a man that had given her a home when he could have easily locked her away. 

        From the direction of the keep she suddenly heard a massive explosion barely muffled by the mass of trees before her.  Even with those trees she could feel the tremble in the air.  And a lot of aether.  Was that the beginning?  Silently praying to Metia that it wasn’t she pushed herself faster still.  Even if it was, she wouldn’t falter now.  Neither of them would know it was her.  Ifrit, she knew, would be out of control and beyond her reach.  Clive wouldn’t even know.  He had finally admitted to her that he remembered little after priming.  It had felt like he’d been asleep until the end.  Joshua, on the other hand, she might be able to reach.  If she could convince him that he could trust her, the two of them together might stand a chance.  He was an inexperienced Dominant; she was not.  It might be the edge they need to bring Ifrit back under control with minimal casualties.

        Finally she saw the walls rising from the forest.  She exhaled heavily with relief.  There was no fire, though.  No Dominants or Eikons.  So what had that explosion been?  Slowing down she rose higher into the air to survey the scene.  There were a great many bodies on the ground.  The attack had already begun.  The glint of armor caught her eye.  Was that…Sanbrequois armor?  And Shields holding them at sword point.  Then Jill almost broke into relieved tears.  There.  They were right there.  Clive.  Joshua.  Their father escorting them together.  It was a wonderful sight.  She hovered to watch, unnoticed by those beneath her.  The brothers smiled.  That was all she had wanted.  To see those smiles. 

        As they spoke to someone a flash of silver caught her eye.  Movement behind the Archduke.  They hadn’t seen.  How had they not seen?  Time slowed down.  That silver speck grew, drawing up its height.  She saw the sword in its hand.  She begged them to turn around!  There was no conscious decision made.  Only a drop in altitude and an icicle aimed with absolute precision, a move few would attempt were they not completely desperate.  Right past Clive’s cheek then the Archduke behind him, that icicle pierced completely through the front of the Imperial’s skull and thudded into the wall behind him. 

        Clive’s eyes found hers.  He said something she couldn’t hear.  Just having him look at her made her heart pound.  He was right there, in a way.  Founder, he was beautiful.  Every muscle wanted to drop the prime and run to him.  But she couldn’t.  From everything he had told her about this night, this was a critical moment.  He could prime at any time and she would have to stop him.  He held her gaze for several seconds before thrusting his arm in front of those behind him, forcing them backwards.  Again he said something quietly that she couldn’t hear.  Whatever it was their scowls said they didn’t approve, Joshua least of all.

        “You cannot know that!” he snapped, eyes never leaving hers.

        “Do nothing!” Clive shouted.  “Joshua please, give me a chance.  I won’t fight her if I don’t have to.”  That was an odd thing to say.  Shouldn’t he be more frightened of an Eikon at this point in his life?  Or at the very least be wondering where Shiva came from?  Instead of running or even shielding the others, he walked forward cautiously.  Straight towards where she hovered in the sky.  “Jill!” 

        What?  How did he…?

        “Jill!  Please!  Come down here and we can talk!  There is no need for this, my lady.”  He added something to the end that was too quiet for her to hear but she did see the concern in his posture.  My lady.  Her heart beat faster at the endearment.

        He knew it was her.  He had to.  But how could he?  Unless it was her Clive.  Nervously she floated toward the ground, keeping her eyes solely on him.  Could this be possible?  Could he truly know her?  Just before she touched the ground she reverted back to her normal self.  Or, younger self, as the case seemed to be now.  They were maybe twenty feet apart and she could see the relief wash over him when she landed.  He took a few hesitant steps forward.  She matched it, nerves keeping air from completely filling her lungs and heart hammering loudly.

        “Jill?”  That low tone of voice.  The hopeful expectation.  Looking carefully she could see it, foreign though it was on the young man’s face.  The softness in his eyes he reserved for her alone.

        “Clive?” 

        All those hours staring at the sky, waiting for him to come back, wondering if he lived.  All those anxiety-ridden hours and it had finally led to this.  He did come back.  Unabashed tears flowed with the broken tension and she started running to him, Clive matching her every step.  With a half contained sob he wrapped her up in his arms, lifting her completely off her feet and spinning her around.  She squealed with both surprise and delight, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tight.  It really was him.  Her Clive!  She didn’t care what this was in that moment.  Dream or no, she found him again.  When he set her down he drew back only far enough to look at her, hand finding its way to her cheek.

        “It’s really you,” he murmured, eyes searching hers.

        “You’re alive.”  He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers urgently, if briefly.  “Is this real?” she asked when they reluctantly parted.

        “I think it might be.”

        “Reunited at last,” another voice interrupted them.  Withdrawing slightly from Clive’s embrace, not that he let her go completely, she turned to the new voice.  Her face grew warm.  Joshua stood nearby with a smug grin. Knowing they had an audience was one thing; having to explain this reaction to someone so young was going to be embarrassing.  “I concede, Brother.  You were correct to speak before taking action.  This time.  Please remember that you may not be so fortunate again.”  Jill cocked her head in confusion.  That sounded far too grown up. 

        “I really am losing my mind,” she murmured.  Clive and Joshua laughed.

        “If you are, I am afraid we three will do so together,” Joshua answered.  His smile faltered slightly.  “Though I must admit I am growing weary of being looked upon as a ghost.”  Jill quickly separated herself from Clive to hug Joshua. 

        “I’m so glad you both are safe.  I have so many questions.”  Joshua squeezed her tightly.

        “Alas we do not have all the answers.  But it seems we are at least living.”  Clive put a hand on both their shoulders.

        “We can discuss it later now that…we…”  He trailed off without warning, squeezing his eyes shut.  Before either of them could ask what was wrong he gasped and shoved them away as hard as he could.  Jill had to Snap away to avoid falling, pulling Joshua with her.  She wanted to run back to Clive but he pressed a hand to his head with a pained grunt and stumbled backward even further away.  The next moment he was screaming.

Chapter Text

        “We have found you.”

        Ultima’s voice sent waves of pain lancing through every inch of Clive’s body.  Blindly he stumbled away from Jill and Joshua, faintly hearing their worried cries.  Everyone he cared about most here was still too close for their own safety.  He trusted Joshua and now Jill as well to keep them safe but he had to get away from them before they could do that.  They could stop him if it came to the worst.  He had to have faith.  Barely aware of the world outside himself he tried to get as far away as he could with muscles seizing in pain.  It didn’t hurt nearly this bad the last time and that pain kept increasing. 

        The flames he had carried for so long slipped from his grasp though he fought to keep them contained.  All Ultima could reach were those flames and so he dug deeper into Clive’s very soul to find Ifrit.  As long as Clive could keep control of the Eikon everything would be alright.  That was the easy part.  Ifrit never budged or even twitched at Ultima’s prodding.  He would remain firmly under Clive’s control alone.  The pain that prodding created, however, was almost impossible to endure.  It left no room for anything else.  He couldn’t see, couldn’t think, everything faded from memory in the face of it.

        “The vessel is already strong.  Perhaps too strong.  No matter.  It will be broken.”

        A renewed attack upon his body left him barely able to breathe.  Every syllable was a vice tightening on his joints.  Every staccato expansion of his desperate lungs a hammer against his bones.  Something burned in his chest like a fiery fist gripping his heart without mercy, pulling relentlessly against unyielding flesh to wrench free every vein.  Ultima had never tried so hard to wrest Ifrit from his control.  If only he could think perhaps he could have found a way to end this.

        Prime!  A different voice whispered to him urgently.  He didn’t recognize it.

        Prime! it called again with increasing insistence.  Trust me!

        The pain did not cease nor ease but there was something reassuring in the voice.  It pushed back just enough to reach Clive’s conscious mind.  There was safety in it, wherever it came from.  Safety and faith and trust.  Although Clive couldn’t clear his mind to identify it exactly, it did feel familiar.  Praying it wasn’t one of Ultima’s tricks he chose to place his faith in that unidentified phantom.  He allowed Ifrit to come forth.

        Clive’s unnatural screams were more than Joshua could bear hearing.  What was Ultima doing to him?  He had always resorted to manipulation in the past not physical torture.  As soon as Clive had backed away he’d fallen to the ground, muscles holding enough tension to break bone.  Tracks of blood followed his fingers as they dug into the hard stone beneath him.  Joshua desperately wanted to stop this but he had no idea how to even begin.  The sight tore at his heart.  Clenching his fist tightly he focused on the problem at hand.  Clive had entrusted him with everyone’s safety, the safety of Rosaria itself, and with stopping Ifrit if it came to it.  Over his shoulder he watched Murdoch and Tyler physically holding Elwin back as he tried to get to Clive.  They all had to live no matter what. 

        “Jill.  Keep them safe.  Get them out of here if you can.”

        “What are you going to do?”  Her voice broke as Clive screamed again.

        “I wish I knew,” was all he said as he stalked toward Clive. 

        If he had to bring Ifrit to heel that’s what he would do.  Never could he betray Clive’s trust in him.  They would not be torn asunder again.  He was no longer that scared little boy.  He could do this.  Ultima had done more than enough harm.  As he reached for the Phoenix, preparing to prime, a ring of flames exploded from Clive, charring most of the tower and blowing a hole through a nearby wall in a concentrated pool of uncontrolled aether.  Ultima had at least reached his magic.  The force of the explosion stopped Joshua in his tracks, nearly pushing him backward, and he had to cover his face with his hands against the heat.  When he lowered them he caught a glimpse of Clive looking in his direction.  For just a second they locked eyes but Clive was looking through his brother rather than at him.  Then his back arced unnaturally and he screamed again.

        “Clive!”

        Something snapped within Joshua.  That momentary look confirmed just how bad the situation was.  Clive couldn’t see him through the pain.  Joshua had seen the look of dying men enough to recognize it now.  The panic that seeped into his heart threatened to sweep him away until he realized.  They were blue.  Clive’s eyes were their natural blue.  Not gold.  Every time he’d faced a rampaging Eikon, Clive had told him their eyes were golden.  He was still in control and enduring this pain to keep it that way.  At this rate, though, he was going to die before Ultima got what he wanted and Joshua was never going to let that happen.  Taking the greatest leap of faith he had ever imagined he semi-primed and kept a cloak of healing flames around Clive’s writhing form.

        “Clive!” he roared over both their flames.  “You have to prime!  This is going to kill you!  Prime!  Now!  Trust me!  Trust Jill!  Prime, dammit!  Prime!” 

        Come on, Brother.  Hear me!

        “Joshua!”  Jill yelled his name as she ran up beside him.  He didn’t take the time to notice she also bore her adult appearance while semi-primed. 

        “What of the others?” he snapped more harshly than intended.

        “Safe, though refusing to leave.  More to the point, you want Clive to prime?  You know what could happen and he would never forgive himself again!”

        “It won’t.  This is killing him Jill.  If Ultima wants to see Ifrit rise this night then that is what he shall have.  Clive will control it.  I know he will.”  Jill caught his eye and held it with determination despite the flinch at a scream.

        “And if not he’ll have what he’s always had.”  She turned to the side in readiness to pour more ice around those they absolutely must protect while Joshua returned his attention to Clive, pleading once more for him to let Ifrit free.

        For a moment he thought his brother wouldn’t dare.  Maybe Clive couldn’t hear him.  Maybe he didn’t have the strength.  Maybe he didn’t have that much faith in Joshua and Jill.  Maybe he was just scared.  Thoughts raced through his mind as his heart pounded in his throat.  Each scream was its own kind of torture, hating the sound yet fearing each one would be the last knowing all he could do was try to keep Clive’s body healed.  His body seized one last time and then the massive pillar of flame Joshua had so feared earlier shot to the sky melting the outside of the ice Jill summoned to protect them both.  Silhouetted within were horns and claws punctuated by Ifrit’s animalistic roar.  Joshua pushed away the urge to prime himself.  Faith.  He had faith.  Clive would control it.  Ifrit roared again as the pillar dispersed, a roar of agony to the sky. 

        One clawed hand raised toward the sky.  Blistering flames poured into a deadly sphere above Ifrit. 

        Joshua couldn’t breathe.  Never again had he thought he would be on the receiving end of Ifrit’s Hellfire.  He’d barely survived it the first time.  Jill yelled at him but he couldn’t understand what she said.  He was too fixed on that flaming orb high in the sky.  Had he been wrong to believe Clive could do this? 

        “Don’t!” he finally managed to scream through jagged breaths.  He knew better than anyone here what came next.  Running to the empty span behind him he tugged at the Phoenix to prime and immediately cast a barrier for everyone around him.  “Please, Clive!  Do not do this!  Ultima does not control you!”  Ifrit locked eyes with him.  The golden irises flickered to blue then back again.  The Eikon roared and shied away.  With a mighty heave the blaze above him moved straight into the sky away from them all. 

        “I’m sorry.”  He heard his brother’s tearful whisper moments before Ifrit vanished, leaving only Clive standing shakily in his stead.  As soon as the last whisp of flame vanished he fell to the ground like a puppet with severed strings.

        Jill was already running to Clive by the time Joshua dropped back to the ground.  Breathing heavily he followed her as quickly as he could.  She scooped Clive up into her arms protectively but he wasn’t moving.  That spurred Joshua’s steps on faster.  Dropping beside his brother he checked for further injury, knowing there would be nothing visible after the amount of healing he’d already given him.  At least he was breathing, even if it was ragged.

        “Clive!  Answer me!  Clive!”  Jill shouted his name with tears streaming down her cheeks.  Finally he cracked open his eyes to mere slits.

        “I’m sorry,” he croaked weakly.  “I lost him…for a moment.”  He clenched his teeth and groaned, twisting awkwardly in Jill’s arms.  “Is everyone…alright?” he forced out around the pain.

        “All is well, Brother.  Rest easy.”

        “Jill?”  He began shivering as if he had a fever as he tried to turn his head toward her.

        “Right here.  It’s alright.”

        “Can you…take over for me?  Help…Joshua…”  Eyes fluttering he fell unconscious with a sigh before he could finish, spasming muscles finally relaxing fully.  She pulled him closer and pressed a long kiss to his forehead.

        “You need not ask, my flame.  Just rest.  You’re safe now.”

        Elwin was the first to recover his senses in light of what they all just witnessed.  Not that he had any idea exactly what that was.  Only now did he truly grasp the seriousness of the situation and why his sons had been so adamant they stay back.  Rodney and Tyler had been forced to hold him back and he was glad they did.  What father doesn’t want to act when their child screams in agony like that?  But he could have done absolutely nothing.  And that realization was more difficult to accept than anything else.  He could not have helped his son at all.

        He was no fool; he knew something beyond his understanding was happening here and his sons were squarely in the middle of it.  Jill too, by the look of things.  When she had appeared Elwin had thought her to be the threat they feared.  What were the odds of another Eikon appearing when they were told to run at the sight of the Phoenix?  Clive’s reaction to her, however, had quelled all fear of that.  They had been warned of a threat only an Eikon could defeat.  At no time had he expected this.  Although terrifying, it had been almost inspiring to watch Joshua and Jill as well so fearlessly confront the situation.  He had to admit that much, despite the fact he had wanted to pull them away and protect them from danger as he couldn’t protect Clive from harm.  When had they all become so stalwart?  So unflinching?  No.  That wasn’t the question he really wanted to ask deep down.  What kind of life had they led to make them so?  Because that concept was less insane by the second. 

        With a minute of careful breathing Elwin finally felt as though he had regained the use of his limbs and jogged quickly over to his sons.  Jill held Clive close, running her fingers through his hair and across his forehead lovingly.  Yes, that was certainly lovingly.  When they had grown so close he had no idea.  Joshua, meanwhile, had flopped onto his back taking deep, measured breaths.  Deep breaths without coughing, he suddenly realized.  Elwin hadn’t seen him cough since arriving home yesterday now that he thought on it.  Another curiosity for later.

        “Joshua.  Are you alright?”  He knelt beside his youngest to search for injury.

        “I am well, Father.  Only tired.”

        “And Clive?”  The boy looked unharmed but his earlier condition suggested the potential for far deeper problems.

        “He should be fine once rested.  How long he may sleep I do not know.  The spirit oft needs more time to right itself than the body and he went through quite an ordeal.”  Elwin heaved a sigh of relief.  At least both his boys were relatively unharmed.  That singular relief nearly brought tears to his eyes.  His head fell to the hand covering his knee, allowing that to be enough for just a moment.  But that assurance unfortunately brought burning questions which now needed answering.  Lifting his head he mentally prepared himself for what had to happen next.

        “Is he…”

        “A Dominant?”  Joshua sat up to look at Elwin, once again adopting a presence far beyond his years.  “Yes.  It is complicated but suffice to say he is.”

        “And was he the enemy you feared showing itself?”  Joshua hummed lightly.

        “In a manner of speaking.  We feared our real enemy wrenching his Eikon from his control to wreak havoc, which he did attempt as you saw.  Clive did well to pull Ifrit back under control in spite of the pain he was in.  Do not worry, you are in no danger from him.”  There was most assuredly more to the story than that.  And it could no longer wait.

        “Son.”  He hadn’t meant to be so brusque but he had just watched his eldest not only bring forth an Eikon, he’d thought he might kill them all.  He’d told Rodney he would know his limit when he saw it and this was it.  “I get the feeling you know what was meant to happen tonight.  I have denied the idea since yesterday but after what I just witnessed I no longer believe I live in the world I thought I did.”  Joshua refused to look at him, fist clenching lightly on the ground as if he knew what was coming.  Footsteps from behind announced the arrival of Murdoch and the others.  “I have been patient and I have overlooked much so that you may share your secrets when ready.  Now I must know.  What was meant to happen this night, Joshua?”  Elwin no longer cared that he may have taken leave of his senses and he didn’t care if the Shields behind him heard.  Enough was enough.  It was time for the truth.  Joshua sighed heavily before relenting.

        “In a word?  Death.  The Imperials took us by surprise and killed a great many Shields before we knew they were here.  I watched you get decapitated by traitors before my eyes and lost control of the Phoenix.  In the chaos, Clive’s Eikon awoke.  Neither of us in control, we fought.  I do not know how many were caught up in our struggle as collateral damage.  I know Sir Tyler was killed when I primed and Lord Murdoch was killed when Clive did.  I am certain there were others.  After destroying Phoenix Gate and half the Apodytery then creating a crater in the hills that is paled in scope only by the Dzemekys Falls he…”  Joshua swallowed hard before finishing quietly.  “He very nearly killed me.”

        Joshua reached out to hold Clive’s hand, deliberately hiding his gaze from those assembled.  Jill looked down at the boy in her arms.  She wasn’t surprised, stroking his left cheek with a sad smile.  Everyone else was struck with stunned silence.  Elwin had asked the question and received his answer.  That was what they had so feared.  A massacre, just as they had said.  The downfall of Rosaria.  Elwin himself was supposed to die tonight along with Rodney and Tyler and a great many others.  A truly sobering realization.  And it was a realization.  He couldn’t explain it but he knew Joshua was telling them the truth.  He let out a long breath and swiped a hand across his face, the implications running rampant through his mind.

        “Your Grace,” Jill interjected.  “I understand this is not an ideal time but you should know the Duchess is coming.  I overheard her speaking before rushing here.  She intends to arrive tomorrow to collect Joshua from the Imperials here and then leave for Oriflamme.”

        “She’s coming here?” Joshua asked incredulously.  Jill cocked her head as if it should have been obvious.

        “Well, yes.  I never knew why she was here since Clive didn’t know.  As you were meant to be left unharmed I suppose it now makes sense.”

        “Wait, I’m sorry.  Clive knew she was here afterward as well?”  Joshua’s hand on Clive’s clenched more firmly.

        “Of course he did.  She—”  Jill cut herself off swiftly, eyes widening before looking down with some sort of realization.  “He never told you, did he?  No, naturally he wouldn’t, the fool.”

        “Jill.  What do you know?”  Joshua’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as if he may already know the answer.  The girl pulled Clive closer to her protectively.  From Joshua’s reaction or what she had to say?

        “Annabella herself gave him to the Imperials.” 

        “It was her?!  Has she not done enough already?”  His hands were shaking from an anger Elwin had never seen in his son.  It frightened him, if he was honest.  Joshua was not one to anger easily.  What he must know would not be good.  Elwin’s stomach turned in fear of what he was about to learn.  Part of him didn’t want to know, was afraid to know.

        “What exactly does that mean, Jill?”  Founder, don’t let it be what I think it is.  Nearly anything would be better.

        “She gave him to the Imperials when he was found alive.  To be branded for the front lines.”  It felt like he had just been punched in the gut, worse than finding out he was supposed to be dead.  He thought he might honestly be sick.  With anger or sorrow he wasn’t sure.  It made sense now, why she’d been smiling as she touched his cheek.  The brand that was not there.  Unbidden his mind imagined the cursed ink there, knowing his own mother had all but put it there herself.

        “They sent him to be…branded?” Murdoch repeated in a tone somewhere between rage and disbelief.  He didn’t even question if it was true.  Perhaps he was ready to accept the outrageous as Elwin was.  In fact all of this likely explained a great deal for him.

        Elwin stood if only to hide his shaking.  Rule number one of nobility was never show what you truly felt and he was rapidly approaching a point he could not hide his warring emotions.  Instead he looked around him.  The courtyard was riddled with holes in the ground, stone scattered from the explosions.  Scorch marks climbed the walls, several places blackened beyond cleaning.  Shards of ice lay strewn about, most of them beginning to melt.  A few holes that anyone could walk right through pierced the walls after Clive’s struggle and a ring of glass marked the event.  The bodies, though, were Sanbrequois.  They had lost little in a fight meant to be a massacre of Rosarians.  It wasn’t.  It wasn’t thanks to his sons.  And his ward had thrown out an incredible amount of ice to protect them from the flames of both Clive and Joshua.  And a little to keep them from running to help, he imagined.  Now that he thought about it, she’d also saved his life when she arrived, hadn’t she? 

        He didn’t know what kind of hell they’d been through nor for how long.  Knowing Clive had been an Imperial branded made him sick to his core.  Few places were worse.  Knowing Annabella had not only allowed it but perpetrated it was indescribable.  There was but one thing in this that kept him calm in that moment.  An opportunity.  An opportunity for Elwin to do what he hadn’t been able to.  He could protect them like he couldn’t before.  They had given much tonight in protection of others.  They should not have to give more to finish this.  And they wouldn’t.  No matter what story they had to tell, this time it would be he who dealt with their first problem.  As he should have long ago.  Drawing himself up he called over his shoulder.

        “Rodney.  Gather the Shields.  It is time we pull our weight.”

        “At once, Your Grace.”  He marched off immediately.  Though Elwin didn’t look, if he knew his old friend, he bore a devilish smile on his face knowing exactly what Elwin planned.

        “Father?” Joshua called to him curiously.  “What do you intend?” 

        “Sir Tyler.  Sir Wade,” he said instead, directing his attention to the two Shields Clive had trusted with all their lives.  “Please take the boys and Jill to the private quarters to rest.  I would ask you both to stay with them.  I understand you also had an intense fight this afternoon before joining us and Tyler you were injured in the battle.  Take this time to rest as well.”

        “By your command, Your Grace,” Tyler replied with a salute.  Wade was more hesitant.  Elwin clapped a hand on his shoulder.

        “Sir Wade, please.  I have seen my sons suffer enough today and could do naught but watch.  They need no guard but it will ease this father’s heart to know someone is with them.”

        “O-of course, Your Grace.  My apologies.  I—”  He bit off the sentence and looked away.

        “Speak your mind.”  Wade glanced down at Clive then back up at Elwin.

        “The lord marquess saved my life today.  I only wanted to return the favor by helping prevent such a cruel fate.”

        “In truth he made a lasting impression on us both,” Tyler surprisingly added.  “If you want me to stay I will stay but I think we both would like to prevent such a thing.”  Elwin smiled warmly at the pair.  Clive had been right to trust them.  He placed a hand on Tyler’s shoulder as well.

        “My friends, if that is your wish I would be honored for your aid.  I will account for you both in our plans.  But there is time.  For now you need rest as much as they do.”

        “Thank you, Your Grace,” they said in unison.

        “Father, please.”  Joshua marched in front of him to get his attention while Tyler began pulling Clive onto his shoulders, kindly nodding at Jill as he did so.  “There is still a great deal of work to attend to knowing the duchess will be arriving.  I must do something lest her treachery go unpunished.  I cannot allow that.”  Elwin pulled him away from the others and knelt to his level.

        “I am well aware of what must be done, my son.  You, your brother, and Jill, you have done extraordinary things today.  Think of the lives you’ve saved!  Rodney and myself chose to follow your lead and Clive’s in the face of something we could not know.  However every duty need not be your own.  We could not face what we did not expect but this we can face ourselves.  Jill has given us actionable information we can use without your unique circumstances.  You have done more than your share.  Let us deal with your mother.”  Joshua was quiet a moment, looking over Elwin’s shoulder in thought.  Then he scoffed and shook his head.

        “I once scolded Clive for trying to do everything on his own.  Now in a similar situation I find myself attempting the same.  Thank you for showing me my own hypocrisy, Father.”  Elwin smiled at his too-grown up son and pulled him into a hug.  Daring one further question, he whispered softly.

        “I know the power of the Phoenix does not change the Dominant’s appearance to such a degree.”  Joshua stiffened.  “Given what you have said, would I be correct to presume that is a more accurate appearance?”  Joshua squeezed him before pulling away and locking eyes with him.  Yet again he was struck by how much age that look revealed.

        “If you want the truth of it, yes.  It is.  Two days ago I was twenty-eight years.”

        “All three of you—”  He nodded.

        “Eighteen years past this night.  They were not kind.  We’re still trying to piece it all together.  Believe me, we find it as impossible as you.”

        “I see.”

        “That was why we kept it hidden for now.  Had we began with our circumstances, as you say, I imagine this would have gone quite differently.”  Elwin hated to admit it but he was probably right.  He would have thought them either out of their mind or creating a fantasy.  Nodding with a little bit of shame he patted Joshua on the shoulder.

        “Well, go.  Rest while you can.  You have all earned it.”

        Elwin watched his youngest leave with Sir Wade.  There it was.  The answer he had sought.  Well, half the answer.  The one they had been dancing around since yesterday.  Had the change in all their personalities not been so drastic and so sudden he never would have even considered this.  It was too impossible sounding for any rational man.  It seemed, however, he no longer lived in a fully rational world.  He desperately wanted to know more of their story.  Eighteen years and they were not kind.  Eighteen years and he knew only how it began.  Maybe he would regret finding out the rest.  Now that Joshua had freely admitted the most insane part, he found he was content to wait.  When they were ready they would explain.  His sons did not lightly break promises.  For now, Elwin had the weight of a family and a duchy wronged to bring down upon his wife.  And he knew just how to do it.

Chapter Text

        Clive woke to the sound of indistinct murmuring humming across his consciousness.  He couldn’t quite remember what had landed him in the infirmary this time, and judging by the unyielding aches and pains which radiated throughout his body that was surely where he was.  Whatever he’d done Tarja was going to be upset with him for sure.  It would be far from the first time.  He struggled to grasp the threads of memory that brought him here.  He remembered a pain more intense than anything he’d ever experienced and little else.  Perhaps that was why his body wouldn’t respond to him.  Whatever else had accompanied that pain drifted just out of reach like he didn’t need to worry about it just yet.  Oh he was definitely in for an earful this time.  Even more so if he couldn’t remember by the time he regained control of his body.

            The door closed and footsteps drew near.  He felt warmth incredibly close beside him.  That warmth brushed something gently and soothingly across his forehead repeatedly while humming a quiet song.  Only one person in the world ever did that.  He didn’t need to see to know who it was.  A wave of comfort lulled him back into a light, dreamless sleep.  Eventually the indistinct murmuring returned, this time gaining some clarity

        “…scouts out.  We’ll have warning.”  Clive didn’t recognize the voice immediately.  That may just be because they were whispering softly.

        “Good.  I’ll stay here and watch over him.  Send for me if you have trouble.” 

        Once again the door closed and that warmth returned, fingertips gently drawing across his skin.  It sounded like something was happening.  If someone had found the hideaway again that would be a serious problem.  They would need him if that was the case.  Still grappling with his own body’s stubbornness he tried to at least speak.  If he didn’t do something he knew he could be easily coerced into remaining here all day.

        His attempt to speak resulted in little more than a moan when he couldn’t quite find his lips.  Why was everything so incredibly heavy?  The attempt was enough to pause the fingers brushing along his skin, though.

        “Clive?”  He tried taking a breath first this time.  And immediately regretted it when pain shot through his ribs pulling a loud, rasping growl from his chest.  “It’s alright, Clive.  Easy.  Take it slow.”

        “J-Jill?” he barely managed to whisper faintly. 

        “It’s me.  I’m right here.  You’re alright.”  Taking several smaller breaths this time he found his muscles finally start sparking to life.

        “Do you think apologizing now would stop Tarja’s lecture?”  It had been a joke but it sounded pathetic even to his own ears with his hoarse voice.  Jill remained quiet.  Cracking his eyes open he looked up into her worried grey eyes, blinking her into focus.  “Oh.  Right.”  Phoenix Gate.  Ultima trying to pull Ifrit from him.  He’d written it all off as a dream without even realizing it.  Jill moved the hand on his head to place a kiss there instead.

        “It’s alright.  After what you went through I’m not surprised you were confused.  How do you feel?”  Clive shifted and immediately groaned loudly at the sharp aching everywhere protesting at the motion.

        “Terrible,” he ground out.  “What of the others?  Is everyone alright?  It sounded like you expected trouble.”

        “All is well.  We are only expecting the duchess.  I overheard her talking.  That was how I found out what day it was.  Granted I had thought it a dream at the time.”

        “Hm. I had forgotten my mother came here today.”  Jill scoffed loudly and shook her head.  “What?”

        “You would forget she sold you to the Imperials.  Joshua is quite displeased with you that you never mentioned it.”

        “It didn’t seem important.  I am more interested now in how you came to be here.  It definitely was not you earlier.  Or, it was but not you.  Founder, this is complicated.”  Jill giggled.

        “I woke here yesterday late in the afternoon after you’d left.  Before that I was waiting for you at the hideaway when fire stretched through the entire sky.  I could feel the aether in it but no idea of what it could be.  I couldn’t imagine even you controlling so much.”

        “Do you think it related?” 

        “I think it likely.”

        “I cannot say what you saw but I doubt it was my doing.  I did not bring us here.  We haven’t a clue what did that.”  Jill frowned.

        “So it could be Ultima.”

        “It is still a possibility.”  Rain pattered lightly on the window as they both fell to their thoughts.  It was a big question, what had done this, and it needed answering quickly now that the immediate threat was over.  If it were something that would act against them one day, this could be important.  If only Clive had any idea just how to go about trying to figure it out.  “We’ll figure it out together,” he said eventually, carefully reaching over and taking her hand in his as firmly as he could manage at the moment.  “I’m glad you’re here, my lady.”  She smiled an earnest smile, warming his heart to his core.

        “This isn’t how I imagined you would come back to me.  But so am I, my flame.”  Leaning down gently so as not to hurt him further she kissed him softly and slowly, both savoring the ability to do so without an audience.  When she pulled back she left little distance between them.  Clive opened his eyes just to look at her, happy she was there.  Jill kept her eyes closed, though, thoughtful expression on her face.  “Do you have any idea how many times I imagined doing that when we were actually this age?” she confessed in a quiet whisper.

        “Did you really?”  He’d recognized some burgeoning feelings for Jill at some point but he’d never thought she might have the same.  She blushed, now looking down at him with a soft smile and teasing eyes.

        “You always were such a blind fool.” 

        “Less blind now, thanks to you.  Not every day you get to do something about an old wish, right?  We should do something about that.”  Placing a hand in her hair he drew her back down to him for another sweetly tender kiss.  A high pitched yip drew them apart after a few moments and something thudded onto the bed.  They quickly broke apart, Jill retreating from him.  Torgal climbed his chest to lick his face relentlessly with tail wagging while ignoring his master’s grunts of pain from the pressure.

        “I kept him contained long enough for you to have a moment,” came Joshua’s voice from the door.  Rather than pull the pup off Jill simply laughed at the display.  “He would not be delayed any longer.”

        “What is he even doing here?” Clive asked.  He was certain he’d left Torgal at home this time.  Not that it had ever stopped him before.

        “I brought him with me but went ahead when I feared I would be too late.  I knew he would find his way to you.” 

        “There’s no hound finer, is there boy?”  Clive scratched his ears then handed him to Jill.  Gathering his strength he sat up wincing, barely choking back a guttural cry when his body protested.  He could deal with most of the pain but his ribs were the worst of it.  And his incredibly raw throat.  It hadn’t been as noticeable talking to Jill so quietly.  Joshua quickly ran over to help him sit up while Jill kept hold of Torgal.

        “Are you alright, Brother?  Is it wise to move?”  Holding his ribs he pulled his legs over the side of the bed.

        “I’ll be fine.  I’ve been in almost this much pain before.”  He took as deep a breath as he dared to try to settle himself.  Joshua poured him some water then sat beside him as he handed it over.  Clive took the cup gratefully trying not to down it all in one go.  Jill sat on his other side and let Torgal climb into Clive’s lap, where he curled up happily.  “I am truly sorry for what happened.”

        “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jill quickly insisted but he slowly shook his head knowing it wasn’t true.

        “I lost control of Ifrit for a moment.  I blacked out when I primed and it nearly cost everything.  You trusted me to control it and I could not.”

        “Do not blame yourself, Brother.  Whatever Ultima was doing nearly killed you.  It may well be a miracle you heard my plea to prime.”

        “That was you?”  Joshua nodded gravely.

        “I hoped that if you primed Ultima would believe his mission complete and remove himself from the situation.  The gamble paid off.”  Clive was incredibly grateful for his brother in that moment.  Had he been able to think at all perhaps he would have thought the same but that was wishful thinking as it turned out.  Somehow, through everything Ultima ever threw at him, that had been the worst.  Physically, at least. 

        “How could you know I would be in control?”

        “I saw your eyes and I knew.  They were not golden nor even blue.  Just yours.  I knew then you would keep Ifrit from rampaging.  Granted we’d a bit of a tense moment but Jill and I were ready.  You did control it in the end.  Focus on that.”

        “Thank you.  Both of you.  I owe you yet again it seems.”  Joshua scoffed, small smile returning to his face.

        “You do not nor will you ever owe me anything, Clive.  You know that.”  Jill wrapped a hand in his and shifted a bit closer with a smile.

        “Although I would prefer you not scare me like that again.”

        “I will do my best.”  A familiar warmth easing his pain drew his attention back to Joshua.  He opened his mouth to protest but his brother raised a hand to stop him before he uttered a word.

        “We need your help with something now that you are awake and this will be much easier if you can at least walk.  I suspect you will not like this but you will talk none of us out of it.”  Clive glanced at him warily.

        “What exactly do you mean by that?”  Joshua paused a moment.  When he looked over his eyes held a fiery determination.

        “We are getting some justice for you.”

        Months of planning would finally come to fruition today.  Annabella allowed herself a small smile at that as she pulled her cloak around her shoulders.  By day’s end she and her darling boy would be on to greater things.  Their rightful place would be securely within the highest echelons of Sanbreque.  Her lowest options would still put them above Elwin.  Such a waste to think he played a part in creating the Dominant of the Phoenix with his ridiculous attitude towards his own power.  Who views their own throne as a seat to be warmed for another?  Especially when that other is naught but a sickly boy so dependent upon his mother.  No matter.  All would be in its right place soon.

        Quickly she left her room for the carriage awaiting her paying little attention to the castle she would not return to.  Once, she couldn’t imagine leaving.  This seemed the pinnacle, the place she naturally ought to be.  That was before the Blight created so much chaos.  Before she understood the full breadth of Elwin’s ineptitude.  Before her castle was overtaken by the weak and useless.  That naïveté would not happen again.  When settled in the carriage with her handmaids it lurched into motion and down into the streets of Rosalith, something else she didn’t bother bidding farewell to.

        Out of the city and several miles down the road they met their Imperial escort.  The captain, a large man named Arnaud, had little information on what had transpired.  There was a fight and reports of a massive pillar of fire that caused concern for the Phoenix.  But Annabella was certain her darling boy was just fine, if beside himself without her.  Those rumors must be false anyway.  Joshua couldn’t possibly harness the Phoenix in his condition.  Perhaps he could work with Bahamut once they arrived in Oriflamme.  As little as she wanted to admit it, the mere threat of the Phoenix could only suffice for so long.  Yes, a friendship with Bahamut would further endear them to the Emperor as well.  A wise move.

        They traveled in silence for several hours, keeping their pace naturally and respectfully slow for her station.  The carriage rolled to a stop around mid-afternoon signaling their arrival at the keep.  Annabella was anxious to find her darling boy but she could not simply exit the carriage or wander the keep alone.  It would be scandalous.  She could hear hushed conversation outside.  A report from other Imperials she assumed.  Then the door opened.  The captain stood there holding his helmet, eyes downcast and partially hidden behind his brown hair.

        “Your Grace.  We’ve had a more detailed report.  The archduke was killed in the attack.”  Annabella waved him off impatiently.

        “Yes, yes, of course he was.  I expected as much.  The Empire wanted their own blood price.”

        “There is more.  Your son was also killed in the battle.  He fought hard.  My men had no choice.”  She practically laughed.

        “Fought?  You must be mistaken, Captain.  My darling boy has much too poor a constitution for that.  Joshua could do little against the might of Sanbreque, Phoenix or not.”  What a ridiculous claim.  Her darling boy killed in battle?  Fighting trained soldiers?  These Imperials did enjoy their gossip.  “Now, if we have arrived I would see for myself.”  The captain started to say more but stopped himself.

        “This way, Your Grace.”  Offering his hand he helped her out of the carriage.

        The keep did look as if it had been set alight.  Black scorch marks spread up the stone.  Flags were burned and stables destroyed.  A great many bodies lay strewn about the courtyard.  Most wore Shield’s vestments.  Convenient.  There would be fewer clambering for retribution later.  Annabella’s eyes glanced over the bodies not really seeing them.  She only needed to find her darling boy.  The rest did not matter.  If only she knew where he might be.  Inside, of course.  Far away from all this.  She would need to hide his eyes from the carnage when they left.  Carefully picking her way inside her eyes fell upon a familiar red coat.  The one marking the Phoenix and heir.  It was just visible in the crevices of a pile of rubble as she entered.  Blood fell from the blocks leaving little doubt as to what that mound of rubble contained.

        My darling boy.

        Calmly she approached, careful not to get too close to the blood.  The blood of the Phoenix, spilled as she’d been told.  All because traitorous Elwin had poisoned him.  Why would he even attempt to fight?  There was nothing here to warrant such a rash action.  How could he not realize the Phoenix would not be harmed?  This would change things.  Her station without the Phoenix would be precarious.

        “My condolences, Your Grace,” Captain Arnaud called to her.  “Is there aught we can do?”  Annabella smiled sadly, pulling herself away from the scene.

        “Haven’t you done enough?  Joshua was my world.  Now he is gone.  I can only pray there will still be a place for me in the world His Radiance seeks to create.”  Perhaps she could do it again.  She had borne the Phoenix once already.  Perhaps she could bear one more child, blessed by both the Phoenix and Bahamut.

        “It may not be a total loss, Your Grace.  Over here.”  Curious what he could mean she picked her way further into the courtyard.  And immediately scowled.  Only an imbecile would think this could make a difference.  “I’d thought him dead already.  Should we take him prisoner?”

        “No need.  Kill him.”  She started to walk away, done with death and blood today.  But she stopped.  “Wait.”  This would only prove an unfitting end, dying beside those of station and pure breeding like her darling boy.  And Elwin, pathetic though he may have been.  “As my husband never tired of telling me he is a fine soldier.  He would be an excellent addition to the Imperial front lines.”  Never could she have done this before.  It was the singular benefit of losing her darling boy.  He would not have accepted this, so blind was he to reality.  Of course the death would be announced alongside the others but knowing proper justice was done brought her some small peace.  “All in its right place.”

        “By the flames, it really is true.”  For the first time in her life Annabella felt ice in her veins.  Turning quickly without losing her regal bearing she found Elwin standing behind her.  He stared with angry fire in his eyes.  Retaining her composure despite the icy fear gripping her she remained silent.  Nothing she said in this moment would benefit her.  Elwin was simply too far gone to hear reason.  More than that, he was supposed to be dead already.  Either she was seeing a ghost or something nefarious was at play.

        “Your Grace!” the captain called in alarm.  She heard him move to her aid but he stopped with a simple motion of her hand.

        “Your information leaves much to be desired, Captain.  Fortunately you have plenty of men.  One can correct the mistake.  There is little to fear.  The honorable Elwin Rosfield would not risk his wife by fighting.”  Elwin’s eyes darkened as he scrutinized her.

        “Why, Annabella.  Tell me why.”  She scoffed.

        “I need not explain myself to one such as you.  You have proven yourself incapable time and again.  If you cared for your duty as much as your precious homeland we would not be here.”

        “My duty?” he growled loudly.  Annabella had thought it impossible to feel even colder than she did.  Never had she imagined this man could look so threatening.  She was almost impressed.  Now if he would only turn that ire upon those who deserved it he might actually be useful.  “Allow me to demonstrate my duty.  Shields!  To me!”

        The thunderous call echoed on the stone walls.  At once every body in her sight leapt to their feet.  Every Sanbrequois soldier prodding them gathered, weapons pointed toward her and the captain.  In mere moments they were completely surrounded by, seemingly, Shields answering their Archduke’s call.  And every face glared at her with hatred and contempt.  It evaporated the ice in her veins.  Now her face heated in pure rage.  How dare they look down on her.  How dare they think themselves superior!  Rodney Murdoch sauntered to Elwin’s side.  Damn that man.  She was certain his interference was a huge factor in Elwin’s utter incapability to do his duty.

        “Before you get too carried away,” the incompetent sovereign in question said as he approached.  He lowered his voice, his words cutting like knives.  “Perhaps your new friend has little to fear from me.  As angry as I am at this betrayal I will see proper justice done rather than take your head here and now.  It is not I who should cause you concern.  You should fear the three Dominants within these walls who, I am told, have far more unfinished business with you.  And something tells me they have fewer qualms about acting on it.”  Annabella rolled her eyes.  Actually rolled her eyes.  It was so preposterous to consider that it did the impossible of cracking her seamless façade. 

        “Please, Elwin.  You expect me to believe you found three of the six remaining since yesterday morning?”  Elwin…laughed.  Loudly.  Somehow that laugh made her shiver more than the irate glare he’d leveled at her earlier.

        “Perish the thought, my dear.  They have been with us all along.”  Behind him the remainder of her guard marched in obediently, hands in the air.  The savage forced them onward with a rapier in hand.  Annabella scowled again.  What was the savage even doing here?  Not to mention who was foolish enough to provide a weapon.  “You know Jill.  Or perhaps her Eikon, Shiva would be of more interest to you?”  Movement behind them pulled their attention before she fully processed what had been said to her.  H-her darling boy!  He lived!  She started forward to pull him away from the other he was helping stand but Elwin clasped a firm hand around her arm.  Joshua stood forward the moment his eyes met hers, arm raised protectively against her with a glare.  What could he be glaring at?

        “Let go of me, Elwin,” she hissed.  “This has been a cruel trick, making me think him gone.”  She spat the words with the force of a stranglethorn’s poison but Elwin did not release her.

        “I wouldn’t.”  Even she could recognize the low threat in his voice.  “You see, your dear Phoenix is very devoted to his brother and counterpart, Ifrit.  The second Eikon of fire.  How well do you think he will react to you after watching you try to first kill and then sell his beloved brother to the Imperials?”

        “Do not sell me such lies.  Inventing a new Eikon is beneath you and far too great for a failure.”

        “I would have thought it a lie myself had I not seen it personally.  All three of them Dominants.  And all three very, very upset with you.  Do mind your manners.”  He abruptly stepped away, leaving her alone in front of her son and the supposed Dominant.  “Lord Commander, please see our guests to the dungeon with the others along with Annabella.  The duchess is hereby stripped of all titles and authority under charge of treason and attempting to sell the First Shield into slavery to an enemy nation.”

        “At once, Your Grace.”

        What was happening here?  How had she become so incredibly hated?  She had done what she must.  She was the mother of not one but two Dominants and raised a third!  Surely no other could claim such a thing.  That must be providence which blessed her so!  Why would it abandon her now?  It was inconceivable that she was the enemy and traitor here!  She stood rooted, fuming to herself, and watched Jill approach Clive.  He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head.  Shiva.  And…Ifrit, was it?  Her beloved Phoenix.  The mother of Dominants.  She could most assuredly work with that.  A Shield tugged firmly on her arm.

        “Remove your hands this instant!  How dare you lay a finger on your duchess.”  The Shield broke into a toothy grin and held her elbow harder.

        “You ain’t our duchess n’more.  Don’t worry.  Got a right spacious room for your former grace.”

        “Hold a moment please, Sir Clarence.”  Joshua approached, leveling an absolutely burning glare at her.  One she’d not thought him capable of.  One that reminded her far too much of Elwin.  He stopped well out of her reach and this fool Shield held firm.  “I know who you are in the darkest recesses when you think none dare look.  You believe yourself infallible and untouchable.  Still I took pity upon you knowing what you would do when you’ve nothing left.  I took pity knowing the woman before me had yet to do the things I knew her to be capable of.  Yet finding you intended to sell my brother to the Imperial front lines was the final thread of my fraying patience.  Your own son, your flesh and blood whether you like it or not, the only family you had left, branded and thrown away as fodder knowing full well his magic was my Blessing.  Heed my words, Mother.  I will personally see to it that you harm not another living soul in Valisthea.” 

        Her darling boy.  Joshua, her beloved Phoenix.  He stalked away from her back to the others.  How could he walk away from her?  He needed her!  Or…did he?  In everything he’d said he never once raised his voice.  He did not shake nor cry with emotion.  He was steady and seemingly calm yet she couldn’t stop the shiver down her spine.  His calm castigation was just the problem.  She knew that calm was a front for something he dared not show.  It was textbook.  She could not have taught him that mask any better.  For that she was proud of him, but still she shivered.  For what that mask hid, she was afraid to know.  The accursed Shield dragged her away and into the depths of Phoenix Gate while she cried Joshua’s name.  He needed her.  He had to still need her!  But her son never looked back.

Chapter Text

        Clive stood upon the top of tower watching Shields cleaning up the damage to the courtyard.  Most had come either from the battle itself or Clive’s subsequent struggle with Ultima.  A bit of it, though, had been deliberately created.  Just enough to sell a ruse.  Had someone told him yesterday that his father, Archduke of Rosaria, had deliberately created a scene of false death and destruction just to use as a trap, Clive would have thought them touched in the head.  Yet that is exactly what he had done, relying on what Joshua and Jill told him of the aftermath the first time.  They, of course, were more than eager to create this illusion as well.  Joshua had taken the news of Annabella’s involvement in Clive’s enslavement particularly poorly and after resting from the night before threw himself into the job of setting the stage.  That said nothing of the Shields who were also eager to assist after the Archduke conveniently told them that he not only suspected the duchess’ involvement in the attack but also in conspiring to sell their First Shield to Sanbreque.  It was a brilliant move, Clive had to grant him that.  They had nothing but the word of three time travelers that any of that was true; they needed something more solid to present before the people of Rosaria.  As usual, his father was thinking ahead.  And now every Shield in Phoenix Gate was present to witness her treachery.  None could stand against the accusation now. 

        The only thing Clive had been intensely uncomfortable with was his own involvement.  That was the sole reason Joshua had eased his pain when he woke, so he could play a part in their charade.  No one asked what Clive himself had wanted, though.  He was quite satisfied with their mother being implicated as a traitor.  He did not need nor want this justice they so desired for himself.  For the better part of an hour he fought with them all to try to stop that much of this, feeling it wholly unnecessary.  And for the better part of an hour, every one of those who knew what happened to him ignored his protests.  After that he simply stopped speaking and accepted it.  He did not like it, but short of leaving the keep he had few options.  For whatever reason Joshua and Jill in particular seemed happier with her arrest after trying to sell him off so at least there was that much.

        “And here I thought you would have snuck away to aid the cleanup when I found our quarters empty.”  Clive’s musings were interrupted by Joshua at the door.  “He’s up here, Jill,” he called down the stairs.

        “After I was forbidden from doing so?”  Joshua cocked a knowing eyebrow at him.  Clive rolled his eyes.  “I only tried once.  Lord Murdoch caught me and threatened to lock me in the tower if I tried again.”  Although he felt much better after his own battle last night, no one would let him help.  His father and Joshua most of all had firmly forbidden work and insisted he rest.

        “Good,” Joshua replied sternly.  Jill and Torgal walked through the door, Jill carrying a jug and cups.  Joshua closed the door behind them and they all joined Clive at the wall.

        “How do you feel?” Jill asked as she poured mugs of cider.  Clive and Joshua both heated theirs then Clive did the same for Jill’s.

        “Better.  I’m sure any lingering aches will be gone by morning.”

        “If you heed my advice they will be,” Joshua muttered.  Clive knew that tone of voice much too well.

        “You learned too much from Tarja,” he grumbled.  His brother only smiled and leaned against the wall, tucking his arm beneath him to lean on.  They quietly sipped their cider for a while.  It felt ages since they’d been together, safe, and alone.  It wasn’t, of course, but so much had happened so quickly.  Even as children they hadn’t needed to say anything to be comfortable in moments such as these.  Really it was this Clive had missed the most when they were gone, and what he’d appreciated the most when the three of them were reunited.

        “We actually did it,” Joshua commented softly after a while.  A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his lips.  “We saved them.”

        “We did.”  Clive looked fondly down over all the lives that didn’t end here.  It was a special feeling, knowing the hurts of their own past had been mended.

        “What do we do now?” Jill asked.  “We cannot turn a blind eye to the world knowing what we do.”

        “We won’t,” Clive answered firmly into his cup of cider.  “Now we have time.  If we are lucky perhaps we can do better.  At the least we have more knowledge this time with which to form a plan.”

        “Speaking of our knowledge,” Joshua said, turning to slide down the wall and onto the ground.  “We are now in a position where we may share what we know.  They have shown a great deal of trust in us that I would not see betrayed.” 

        “Nor I.”  Clive sat down beside his brother, quickly followed by Jill.  Torgal started to climb into his lap before getting distracted by a moth on the other side of the tower and running off to chase it.

        “We should also decide what needs done concerning the Apodytery.”

        “In the midst of it all I’d forgotten that was the reason we’d come here to begin with,” Clive mused.  “Did you ever enter it later?  What is supposed to happen there for the Phoenix?”

        “I always wondered,” Jill agreed.  “All we encountered were Fallen guardians.”

        “And a figment of my own repressed memory.”

        “I did return six, perhaps seven, years later.  Little happened in truth.  I freely found my way to the mural in the depths.  It was the first time I encountered it and I knew it was of great significance to my search somehow, though it was some time before I understood how.  Then I left.  It was quite anti-climactic.  Now, however, this may be a role we need play.  There is great expectation in recapturing Drake’s Breath.  An Imperial attack which yielded them little may not forestall Father’s intent.”

        “Could you enter and use that to stop the campaign?” Jill asked.

        “Perhaps, though it may be better if we can convince Father to stop it without me.  While assaulting the Mothercrystals will eventually be a need, I believe it best we wait.”

        “Agreed,” Clive said.  “Knowing they will release Ultima’s kin and then Origin, we need to be more cautious than last time.”

        “Says the man who accidentally shattered a Mothercrystal while fighting a grudge match with Titan.”  Jill poked him teasingly.

        “That truly was an accident.”  They fell quiet a moment, watching Torgal playing without care.  Then suddenly Joshua laughed sharply from behind the hand pressed to his mouth.

        “By the flames, how are we supposed to tell any of this?  Who would believe a word of it?  Awakening in our own past is nigh the most believable part!”

        “He has a point, Clive.”  Jill’s lips turned upward in amused agreement.

        “You need not tell me.  I lived it and struggle to believe it myself.  But what choice do we have?  Perhaps Joshua should do the recounting to give us a better chance.”

        “What?  Why me?!”

        “You already convinced Dion to our cause, did you not?  You are known to have a way with words.”  Clive grinned slyly at his brother, who returned the look with a glare.

        “I may have spoken with Dion but I was not there for most of your struggle.  It would be foolish to allow me to speak for you.”

        “You know most of it anyway.  Are you scared they won’t believe you, Brother?”

        “That kind of goading may work for Gav but it will not sway me.”

        “Alright both of you,” Jill interrupted with false gravity.  “Joshua did truly have a point.  You intend to tell them a story spanning nearly two decades involving every Dominant, every kingdom, outlaws in the Deadlands, the source of the Blight, and a god.  Might not that be just too much at once?  I don’t suggest hiding anything but perhaps we should temper it for the time being.”  He hadn’t thought much about it, really.  He’d been too preoccupied with everything else.  It was just his life.  How difficult could it be?  But looking at it like this, maybe it simply was too much information.

        “It may indeed be prudent for us to begin with basic facts,” Joshua said.  He held a finger to his chin in thought.  “The full breadth of Clive’s story is quite vast.”

        “It is not only my story which needs told.  They will want to hear of you as well.”  Joshua waved him off.

        “My own part of the tale is easily summarized until we were reunited.  No, Jill is correct.  We should minimize this as much as we can for their ease.  Even the most important parts will sink them into a new world for which they are ill prepared.”

        “Well,” Clive began, standing and wincing only slightly.  “Shall we open their eyes now, then?  They should know what we face before any plans for the Apodytery are made.”

        The war room was beginning to feel rather cramped with seven people seated around the table and a wolf pup excitedly greeting everyone from the center of that table.  Elwin had chosen patience in hearing the rest of what his sons had to say and it surprised him that they were prepared so quickly.  Somehow he was taking this more calmly than the previous night.  He knew whatever he may learn would prove earth-shattering.  Just as earth-shattering as his sons knowing their own futures and striving to prevent them.  That alone was probably why he was calm.  One impossible thing begets another.

        “I want to first offer a choice,” Clive began seriously.  “Tyler.  Wade.  I pulled you into this knowing you would help in our fight.  What we have to say now…  Your world will not be the same afterward.  If you believe yourselves unready for such a thing, I hold no judgement should you leave now.  You will keep my trust either way.”  Elwin half expected them to take his offer and leave.  Frankly he wasn’t certain he was ready, not that he had a choice in the matter.  But Wade just crossed his arms and settled into his seat pointedly.

        “I believe we are already committed, my lord,” Tyler agreed, settling in as well.

        “Very well then.”  Clive took a deep breath, looked to his brother and to Jill, and Elwin could almost feel the moment the world he knew vanished forever.  “Were it not already painfully obvious, the three of us are not exactly who we appear to be.  Eighteen years ago Phoenix Gate ended very differently for us than it did last night, as Joshua has informed me he explained to you.  Somehow we have yet to understand we found ourselves back here, Joshua and I two days ago and Jill yesterday.  In that regard we do not know what is happening.  We only knew that we would not allow the sins of our past to repeat themselves.”  Joshua picked up when his brother paused.

        “We do not wish to hold secrets from any of you.  We will tell you anything you wish to know.  We were speaking earlier, however, and came to the realization that our tales are long, disparate, and encompass much.  As such we would give you a shorter version of what you need know.  The rest can be filled in later.”

        “When you say ‘encompass much,’ exactly what does that entail?” Elwin asked cautiously.  He could understand their desire for a simpler version after so much time but he would need an idea of what was also left out if he had to make decisions based on this knowledge.

        “Every kingdom, every Dominant, and nearly every step of the Twins,” Joshua answered gravely.  “Eighteen years is a great deal of time, though the majority of this happened in far less.”

        “I see.”  That was indeed a disturbing amount of information.  Already he knew this would not answer the burning questions he had as a father for his sons.  “Then do what you feel you must.”  He would simply ask them later.  It was likely better to have that personal conversation in private anyway.  Joshua gestured for Clive to continue with a trace of a smirk.  Clive scowled slightly, traces of those unspoken conversations they had passing between them, then acquiesced. 

        “For thirteen years after Phoenix Gate I was an Imperial Branded and Jill was a slave to the Ironblood who invaded Rosalith not long after the massacre.  Joshua was presumed dead by the entire world and it was some time before we found otherwise.  This all truly began with Cid.  In a twist of what I can only call fate Jill and I found each other in the Nysa Defile and were saved by him arriving at the last moment.  He’d a calling he’d found for himself and we eventually chose to help him in it.  Cid hated the way those with magic were treated.  Bearers and Dominants across Valisthea are tools to be used and mistreated until we all fall to the curse.  The only real difference between the two is the amount of power they could wield.  He wanted to end that kind of treatment, to give them a choice.  But he had a bigger goal for the future and with three Dominants working together, we stood a chance.”

        “Three?” Tyler quickly asked.  “You and Lady Jill, of course, but who was the third?”

        “Cid was.  Dominant of Ramuh.”  Something about that was tickling the back of Elwin’s mind.  He’d heard of this somewhere before.

        “Cid.  Do you mean Cidolfus Telamon?  I’d heard the Lord Commander of Waloed was Ramuh’s Dominant.”  Surely one of the two of them was mistaken.  It seemed ludicrous to think it the same person.  A Lord Commander for a nation such as that would be well kept and well cared for.  Why work in direct opposition of every nation in Valisthea?

        “One and the same,” Clive confirmed, much to Elwin’s surprise.  “I know he leaves Waloed at some point but I never thought to ask when.  Soon, I imagine, if he has not already.”

        “Why would he leave?  Because of his feelings on Bearers?”

        “In part.  Most of that fervor comes later.  For the most part he leaves because Barnabas Tharmr is a raving lunatic.”  Clive didn’t even try to hide his evident displeasure speaking of the King of Waloed.  And that was quite the accusation.  Now that he looked, a dark look passed across Jill’s expression as well.  “I’ll explain more of that later.  Back to the topic at hand first.  The plan Cid wanted to set in motion was the end of the Blight.”

        “So wouldn’t we all,” Rodney scoffed.

        “Do you mean to suggest he knew the cause?” Elwin ventured.  Clive nodded.

        “He did.  Or, partially did.  We learned much later he was half correct.  Allow me to explain it the way he did.”  Reaching behind him he pulled a crystal off the top of a box.  “Question.  How do crystals work?  Answer: by pulling in the ambient aether from the air allowing us to conjure magics.  Now where do these crystals come from?”  He looked up at each of them.  Waiting.  Expectant.  Elwin had a sinking feeling he knew where this was going.

        “They’re mined from the Mothercrystals,” he answered hesitantly. 

        “Exactly.”

        “You can’t mean the Mothercrystals are the cause!” Wade demanded in pure shock.

        “I had a similar reaction when he told us,” Clive chuckled.  “But yes.  That’s the answer Cid found.  Imagine the amount of aether those giant crystals could suck in?  Enough to bleed the land itself dry?  We found out later that the crystals were a part of it, but magic itself is also to blame.  Wherever magic exists, the Blight follows.”

        “But the Mothercrystals are supposed to be divine…” Tyler muttered.  Elwin was stunned into silence.  The entire reason they were here was to begin a campaign to retake a Mothercrystal thinking it might save them from the Blight.  If it instead caused or at least hastened the Blight he would be responsible not only for the lives lost taking it but also the lives claimed by the Blight as it closed in around them anyway.  If he chose to believe such a thing, of course.

        “They are anything but,” Clive answered fiercely.  To prove his point he stood and hurled the crystal in hand at the stone wall with such force it shattered on impact.  “I know it is difficult to view them any other way.  And yet we broke every single one of them so that no one would be chained by them ever again.” 

        “You shattered the Mothercrystals?”  Rodney was pale as he asked the question.  Elwin was sure he didn’t look much better.  All his life those crystals were meant to be revered.  They had been fought over for centuries.  Rosarian blood had been spilled so many times over Drake’s Breath.  He struggled to believe any of it.  In part he was angry that it was all for naught.  In part he kept thinking there had to be a reason behind it all, something to make it all worth it.

        “We did.  We knew things would only get worse for a while but without magic there would be nothing to make Bearers or Dominants any different from anyone else.”

        “How could any of us live without magic?” Tyler asked nervously.

        “We did well enough.  There’s no aether in the Deadlands and therefore no magic.  That’s where our base was located.  We found ways to survive.  It wasn’t easy, especially at first.”

        “A world without magic or crystals.”  Elwin marveled at the idea.  Long had he believed Bearers bore an unfair burden and wished to do something for them.  He had plans that would take years to implement but to extinguish magic completely?  None of those plans would be needed if there was nothing marking them as different than any other man.  If they could do what Clive and his people did to find other ways to adapt, this could act as a great step in a new direction.  What an incredible concept…

        “That was the world we wished to create,” Clive continued.  “But there was more at play than we could have possibly imagined.  A god, to be specific, watching over humanity and waiting for the day he could claim a long awaited prize.  A god that Tharmr was all to happy to throw his free will away to serve.  We realized this god’s existence when we shattered Drake’s Head.  Some kind of creature emerged from the crystal’s heart and soon after the god appeared.  We had little idea what we were dealing with.  Cid knew something but I never got to ask what.  He died saving my life from that monster.”  A profound sadness shone in his son’s eyes.  He flexed his hand, looking at it mournfully.  “Luckily we were not alone.”  

        “I only wish I’d arrived sooner,” Joshua finished.  “I had spent much of my years in hiding researching this fiend.  I’d found little, of course, as he is a god in any true sense of the word, but I did know his name and what he wanted.  Ultima, a god that would stop at nothing to get his hands on a man meant to become his mortal vessel in the world.  Mythos.  I knew Mythos would be more powerful than any could imagine and should he fall to Ultima there would be no stopping him.”

        “I take it something sets this man apart from others to make him so powerful.”  Elwin held Joshua’s gaze.  That unyielding look alone was enough to express just how serious this was.  And that in turn was enough to make the Archduke of Rosaria very nervous.

        “He has a resistance to aether like none other.  Resistant to the curse at least, perhaps completely immune to it, he can withstand a great deal of strain.  He alone can wield the power of every Eikon.  In fact Ultima created the Dominants to hold the Eikons until Mythos was ready to claim them for himself.  Humanity’s very existence was a means to await an evolution of someone who could withstand the Eikon’s and Ultima’s power.  We were never meant to develop free will or truly live.  Ultima called it our greatest sin yet I cannot imagine the Mythos he so desired ever evolving from such a place.  As Ultima would stop at nothing to claim his vessel, I would stop at nothing to keep him from it.”

        “I’m glad to hear that, honestly,” Rodney commented.  “It sounds like this vessel would be a grave threat to us all.”  But Joshua shook his head, small smile on his lips.

        “You misunderstand, Lord Murdoch.  While I agree Ultima could never be allowed to claim his prize, I had far more personal reasons to stand against him.  I’ve always had a soft spot for my brother, you see.” 

        “What—”  Rodney’s eyes slowly grew larger as the implications hit him.  He looked at Joshua, then Clive, then back again.  Clive just shrugged lightly. 

        “You called Shiva in the marshes yesterday to save me,” Wade murmured.  “I’d thought it a mere expression.”  Nonchalantly Clive held out a hand to bring forth a small shard of ice.

        “I can take a fragment of a Dominant’s Eikon to use myself.  The Dominant in turn loses most of their power.  Garuda was the first.  It came as quite a shock, I can assure you.”

        “As for Shiva, I freely gave her to him to help him defeat Tharmr.”  Jill explained as everyone fixed their eyes on the ice floating in Clive’s palm.

        The ice in Clive’s hand spun in a slow circle and then vanished.  In the face of such information there was absolutely nothing Elwin could think to say in that moment.  He leaned heavily back in his chair, looking at where that ice had been, and felt…satisfied.  Like he had long held a question he never wanted to address and it was just answered.  It all suddenly made sense.  Why the Phoenix had passed such a strong candidate.  A completely unknown Eikon.  Their conversation about the crystal fetters.  They’d said he carried all eight.  It was completely unbelievable.  Did he actually believe it?  Did he have a choice?  It seemed such a ludicrous thing to believe, and yet… 

        “The lightning in the bailey, then,” Rodney murmured.  Lightning arced up Clive’s arm where the ice had been.

        “A gift from Cid before he died.  He entrusted everything to me, Ramuh included.  I bore his name as a moniker for our outlaws for five years, fighting for Bearers, Dominants, and Valisthea.”  Flames, ice, lightning.  He’d also mentioned Garuda.  It seemed Elwin would have to believe this.  The truth was staring him in the face.  His own son, some kind of mythical legend.  Never could he have imagined it.

        “I told you Clive was a Dominant,” Joshua continued, “and that it was complicated.  This is why.  He can utilize the abilities of us all.”   

        “Complicated indeed.  I now somewhat understand your worry over those crystal fetters the other day,” Elwin commented.  They had told them everything from the beginning and he hadn’t even realized it.  Naturally he had been worried to see Clive collapse however he would have been more worried had he understood what they were saying.  “You clearly still control them all.”  Clive nodded.

        “I do.  To my surprise they came with me when this happened.”  He gestured broadly to himself and then the room.

        “Clive, what crystal fetters?”  Jill frowned and pulled him closer to ask the stern question quietly.

        “Just a misunderstanding and entirely my fault,” he whispered back to her.  Then he turned his attention toward Rodney.  “Speaking of which, I should apologize again for the incident in the bailey, Lord Murdoch.  Ultima tried many times to claim me and break my will using illusions of those I care about.  From my perspective I had just killed him and absorbed his aether when I awoke here.  The transition was quite sudden.  I thought it the only possible explanation that he was trying once again.  I’d had…more than my fill of him by that point.”  Clive glanced at Joshua briefly, a look Elwin noted bore more emotion than he wished to say at the moment.  Whatever was in that look instinctively pulled a knot in his stomach.

        “I suppose I cannot fault you for such a thing, then.  I should apologize for jumping to stripping you of your sword and clapping you in fetters.”  Rodney bowed his head but Clive just waved it off. 

        “There is no need.  I allowed it to put your mind at ease, remember?”  Rodney frowned, clearly uncertain if that was actually a comfort or not.  While he tried to decide, Wade leaned forward and started ticking things off on his fingers.

        “So magic is the cause of the Blight, you destroyed the Mothercrystals, there’s a god that’s got his eye set on destruction, and the lord marquess is supposed to be that mad god’s vessel.  For what?  What’s he need you for, my lord?”

        “To bring his kindred back.  The Mothercrystals were created to store massive amounts of aether for a spell he meant to use for that purpose.  Ultima himself, however, is more spirit than man.  He needed a physical body to unleash the spell.  I was supposed to be that physical body.  Someone resistant enough to aether to pull it off without succumbing to the curse first.  He never imagined I would rebel.  Even then he never could imagine that I would kill him rather than be the vessel he desired.  Although…”

        “Although?” Elwin prompted.  Clive scoffed lightly and massaged his left hand.

        “All that time and planning, all the lives destroyed because of his machinations.  It was all meant to lead to me.  He was going to destroy humanity simply because I had been born. I fought him for us all to have a life and a choice.  I defeated him because I had the support of others.”  He reached out for Jill’s hand under the table and laid his other hand on Joshua’s shoulder.  “But the ironic thing is that it was still too much.  Even if I had given in it would not have worked.  The last thing I remember was consigning it all to flames I couldn’t control knowing it would be the end of me.  Only three fought that monster.  Dion died to buy Joshua time, Joshua died from imprisoning a fragment of Ultima, and then I died from aether exposure.  Three of us left to face Ultima.  None of us would have come home if not for being here.”

Chapter Text

        Clive’s words hung heavily in the air.  Three good men went into battle against a god and neither they nor the god survived.  In the midst of everything he’d learned, Elwin honestly wasn’t sure how to feel at the moment.  Overwhelmed was certainly a chief option.  There were far too many revelations at once to fully grapple with.  Pride was there, too.  As well as loss, a heartwrenching loss he could scarcely understand knowing his sons would not draw breath without this miracle.  It was little wonder they chose to stick to the most important parts of their story rather than tell it all at once.  There was still much he wished to know yet his mind spun with what they had already said and the implications of it all.  With a deep breath he broke the silence that loomed overhead.

        “We have all heard a great deal this evening.  I dare say Clive was correct in saying we would no longer live in the world we thought by the end of this.  Now I would speak with my sons alone, if you would all be so kind.”

        “I’d say we could use a drink anyway,” Rodney declared while standing.  “Tyler, Wade, let’s go see if any of this makes sense at the bottom of a mug of ale.”  Tyler immediately nodded an assent, his eyes continually darting between Joshua, Clive, and Jill as if that might answer a million questions in his mind while fearing that it might actually do just that. 

        “Don’t have to ask me twice,” Wade agreed.  “Uh, Lord Commander.”  Rodney laughed.

        “After all this, Sir Wade, I can ignore the slip for once.”  The door closed behind them and Jill stood from her place.

        “I would like to speak with you as well Jill, but perhaps a bit later.” 

        “I understand, Your Grace.  I do not doubt the three of you need time.”

        “I’ll walk you out,” Clive said.

        “Would you like me to take Torgal with me?”  The pup had long ago fallen asleep on the table.  Clive nodded and collected the sleeping wolf to hand off to Jill carefully. 

        “He will like as not be more comfortable with you.”  The pair walked to the door, Clive’s hand naturally resting on Jill’s back to escort her.  Jill paused just before he opened the door for her and turned to face Elwin.

        “It is good to see you again, Your Grace.  Truly.”  She awarded him an earnest smile and then stepped out.  Elwin had always liked the girl.  It would be rewarding to see the woman she became despite her hardships.  They would most definitely be having a talk themselves very soon but for the moment he was thankful she understood his desire to have a moment alone.  Clive was gone only a couple minutes, returning with bowed head almost sheepishly. 

        “Tell me, Clive.  Is Jill my daughter in law yet?”  Joshua tried to cover a laugh when his brother stopped short halfway back to the table.  A bit of a blush crept up his neck but he offered a small smile anyway.

        “No.”

        “Might she be soon?”

        “I…  With…well, I—”  Clive faltered, blush spreading along with a confounded smile, spluttering for an answer.  Then he placed his hands on his hips with an amused huff, shaking his head slowly.  “I never thought I would be discussing this with you.”  He looked up sadly.  Elwin stood, that feeling of heartwrenching loss returning.  He couldn’t imagine how strange this must feel to both of his sons.  They had always had a less than traditional relationship as a family due to both their stations and Annabella.  But none of that mattered at the moment.  Elwin put his arms around Clive’s shoulders firmly, pulling him into a close hug.  His son hesitated a moment before returning the gesture.

        “We have now been afforded that luxury.”  He gripped his shoulder then extended a hand to Joshua, who quickly joined them.  “My boys.  I am so proud of the men you became.  To know the path you chose to tread despite the hardship, I truly am so incredibly proud.”  Letting them go he looked at them closely.  It was so strange to see the boys he knew while knowing they were not quite the same.  His adult sons he, apparently, never got to know and now they could change that.  “I have a request for a day you are both fully recuperated from our struggles here.  Yesterday Joshua appeared older while channeling the Phoenix as did Jill with Shiva.  I would see the men you grew into.”  Clive shrugged casually.

        “I have no qualms showing you now, presuming it does the same for me.”

        “I do not wish to stress you further, my son.”

        “Do not worry, Father.  I am much better now.  In truth I felt worse than this after taking Garuda and immediately had to fight the out-of-control Eikon afterward.”

        “That is hardly my point,” Elwin chastised him.

        “Do not waste your breath, Father,” Joshua sighed loudly, taking a step back.  “You would be the first to succeed in a long line of attempts to dissuade him after his mind is decided.”

        Clive offered his brother a small, tight smirk Elwin couldn’t read and stood back away from them.  Pulling forth his own power he quickly grew in height and muscle.  His prowess even without his Eikon was easy to see in the way he carried himself.  He shuffled awkwardly, examining his arms in surprise, as Elwin looked at him.  He saw much of himself in his son.  Joshua may have carried Annabella’s features, but Clive certainly bore his own.  What drew his attention the most was the large, dark scar on his cheek where a Bearer’s mark would have been.  After allowing him a good look, Clive let go of his Eikon and returned to his normal looks.

        “Suppose it works for us all,” he commented casually.  “Lady Hanna gave me some of your old clothing on our way through Eastpool.  It was already difficult travelling with a brand, but wearing Imperial armor as well made it nigh impossible.”

        “They suited you well.  I noticed the large scar where the brand would be.”

        “Our physicker was skilled at removing brands.  It is an incredibly painful procedure, but I was the leader of our outlaws after Cid died.  I couldn’t be tied down with such a thing.”

        “Do not think you are forgiven for not telling me how that brand got there, Brother.”  Clive heaved a sigh, leaning against a barrel behind him.

        “It wasn’t important, Joshua.  The result would have been the same.”

        “How like you that is to condemn the woman for her treatment of everyone else and never say a word of yourself.  Jill told me of your encounter with her in Twinside.  Never once did you mention her slights against you.”  Clive didn’t answer, not that Elwin really expected him to.  That much had not changed over the years it seemed.  The boy had never been one to latch onto anything done to him.  It was always for others. 

        “She will be charged for that attempt alongside her treachery,” Elwin said to stop the debate before it got out of hand.  “You have mentioned her actions more than once.  I wish to know what else she did.”  Joshua and Clive shared a poignant look before Joshua spoke up.

        “I will tell you she became a tyrant as vicereine.  If you desire the specifics of her actions, I fear that should wait until after her sentence is proclaimed.  I do not wish to sway your judgement with events that never happened.”

        “Did you not say you held no secrets?” 

        “We did.  For the accidental lie we apologize.  This is for the best.”

        “Just until she is dealt with,” Clive promised.  A haunted look flitted across his eyes and vanished.  Whatever else Annabella was responsible for still shook him, it would seem.

        “Very well,” he begrudgingly agreed.  “Then I will change the subject.”  He pulled two chairs away from the table and gestured for the boys to sit while he took another for himself to sit close by them.  “I would know everything of your lives.  Not tonight, perhaps.  At the moment I admit I am still grappling with reality and my place in it.  I could never begin to imagine what this must be like for the two of you to return like this.  Merely saying it feels too much to believe.  Likewise, I may never fully understand what you’ve both been through.  So for now I will ask this.  How are you both faring?”

        “Better now that the Night of Flames never happened,” Clive said.  “Though this still feels like something of a dream.”

        “Agreed.  It may be some time before I adjust to any of this.”

        “Joshua, I had noticed your cough had inexplicably vanished.  I am glad to see it but might you know why?  It seems likely to do with your circumstances.”  Joshua sucked in a breath with wide eyes and grasped at his chest.

        “How had I not noticed?”  He drew a deep experimental breath.  Nothing happened.  “My cough did fade as I grew but returned tenfold after I imprisoned Ultima with the Phoenix.”  His eyes narrowed and he turned to Clive with a look Elwin could only describe as accusatory.  “Brother.  What did you do after I fell?”

        “What do you think I did?” he muttered looking the other way.  “I had every Eikon, Phoenix included, and enough aether to drive any man mad with power.  I tried to bring you back with it.  It healed your physical wounds but nothing else that I could tell.”

        “You know even the Phoenix cannot return the dead to life,” Joshua groaned. 

        “Pardon me for doing the one thing I could in the face of you dying in front of me for a second time.  I rather doubt you can complain now.”

        “You think healing my dead body eighteen years in the future cured my chronic illness now.”  It wasn’t even a question. 

        “After the last few days I don’t know what I think anymore.”

        “I…”  Joshua slumped back heavily in resignation.  “I want to say that seems impossible.  Yet I am a grown man sitting here as a boy after my apparent death, eighteen years in my past having just told a story of the future to men long dead.  Impossible is most assuredly relative at this point.”  Clive chuckled.

        “Spoken true.”  Elwin couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.  Once upon a time he and Byron had bickered much the same way as he suspected all brothers did.  Except these two never had.  Never once had he heard so much as a terse word between them.  It was somehow refreshing, as if the bickering meant they were closer than ever.

        “You’ve grown closer, haven’t you?”  For reasons he could not fathom, the boys merely looked at one another and laughed.

        “That could be said,” Clive chuckled.

        Tension broken they sat for the better part of an hour regaling Elwin of their better stories from their time together.  It had been short, it seemed, but they’d filled it to the brim with as many memories as they’d been able in the midst of the world ending.  It lessened the pain in his heart from the rest of what they’d undoubtedly been through.  Their bond truly was stronger than any he knew.  He’d always thought himself close to his brother but it was nothing like their bond.  It had always been there, too.  From the day Joshua was born they had bonded in a way Elwin could never fully understand.  As their stories continued, it felt less and less like sitting with the sons he knew and more like sitting with the adults they were inside.  It also felt less strange now that he was getting reacquainted with them.  They’d both changed so much and so little at the same time.  This change was so sudden to witness and a part of him mourned for the childhood he would never see in them.  Except he would not have seen it anyway.  So more than anything he was grateful, so incredibly grateful, to who or whatever had given them all this chance.  He vowed then and there to never take his family for granted again.

        Wade knocked back the last of his ale in a quick motion and set it heavily on the table.  The three Shields had walked to the banquet hall in silence, retrieved their ale in silence, drained their mugs in silence.  But that outward silence hid a cacophony of thoughts whirling through each of their minds.  He liked to think himself a fairly straight-forward man.  He knew what his priorities were and where his skills were useful.  The top of his list would always be Rosaria and it’s ruling family.  He would make full use of his axe against any enemy that would threaten either of them.  So he’d never given much thought to magic or the Blight.  When there was something to swing his weapon at someone would tell him.  It was simple as that.  Except the world wasn’t so simple anymore.  Now he was one of few that knew the cause of the Blight and the threat of the Mothercrystals.  He knew of a god that wanted to wipe out humanity all for the lord marquess.  The world suddenly seemed…big.  Too big.  It clashed with the simplicity he felt his life had yesterday.

        “We’re all thinkin’ it.  Do we actually believe this?”  Wade stared at the table awaiting their answers rather than see his own misgivings reflected back at him.  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe the lord marquess and the Phoenix.  That was precisely the problem.  He couldn’t imagine them concocting a story like this.

        “Do we believe the Phoenix, the First Shield, and the state ward are all returned from nearly two decades in the future to save us all?” Tyler answer flatly.

        “As well as the Blight and a god.  Can’t forget complete blasphemy.”

        “I doubt I could if I tried.”

        “I’ll drink to that,” Murdoch murmured and tipped his mug up only to scowl at the empty bottom.  “Regretting your choice to remain yet?”

        “Ask me tomorrow, Lord Commander,” Tyler replied sullenly.  He got up to refill their mugs without asking.  No one was protesting another round.

        “What about you, my lord?” Wade asked when Tyler returned.  “You didn’t get a chance to leave at all.”

        “I did not, no.  I’d have stayed anyway.  My position demands it and I had questions of my own.”

        “I’m certain His Grace appreciated having you at his side as well,” Tyler commented while settling back into his seat.  “You are friends, are you not?”

        “Aye.  And I care for his sons as if they were my own.  As I said, I would have stayed no matter.”  Wade shrugged slightly and took a long drink of ale.

        “Makes sense.  Guess I’m struggling with where I, or rather we,” he gestured to Tyler with his mug, “fit into this.  Feels like giving state secrets to a Bearer.  World looks different now but I’m still just a Shield with an axe.  Can’t help and can’t walk away.”  Tyler hummed an agreement.

        “Particularly when I think of what would happen should the cause of the Blight become known.”

        “How do you mean?”

        “People will not believe the Mothercrystals are a problem.  We are taught their divinity and that belief will not easily be shaken.  Most would assume that part the ravings of a lunatic or perhaps a heretic.  But if they find out magic is the problem, many will immediately blame Bearers for the Blight.  Those desperate to escape Blighted lands may well begin campaigns against them and I could see it becoming bloody, especially in places like Sanbreque where their humanity is already debatable in the eyes of the people.”  The door opened for a couple of Shields to pass through on their way to the bunks and Wade bit back his answer until they left again. 

        “They wouldn’t start murdering Bearers would they?  That wouldn’t stop it.”  He practically hissed the statement, suddenly more worried about being overheard.

        “The Ironblood already sacrifice them to the Mothercrystal,” Murdoch answered broodingly.  “It would not be difficult to imagine it happening.”  That was a bitter pill to swallow.  Wade had never thought much about Bearers.  It wasn’t that he hated them like some or wanted to liberate them like others.  He just never thought about it.  Now he was starting to see that may have been the benefit of living in Rosaria: he had the luxury of not thinking on it.  They were still people, though, born with rotten luck though they may be.  They didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

            “The Archduke never would allow that here,” he said confidently.  “And I don’t think his sons would either.”

            “I wish I shared that confidence,” Tyler commented quietly.  “They would not permit it within Rosaria if at all possible.  But it is not always our decision alone.  That is how we arrived at this to begin with.”  Wade leaned heavily on his fist, knowing his friend was right.

        “Bloody politics,” he grumbled.  The Lord Commander afforded them both a reassuring look that neither had ever seen from him.

        “All this to say that they entrusted us with knowledge that could threaten the world.  I have little doubt they will find a solution and when the time comes they will need our aid once again.  Wait for that moment.  Decide what must be done when you have a clearer idea of what needs done.”

        The Lord Commander was right, even if he was just trying to ease Wade’s mind a bit.  He just couldn’t shake the feeling there was something he should do, though.  Or something he could do.  Seven people in the entire world knew this.  Seven people knew that their world was much bigger than they thought.  Wade was one of those seven.  It didn’t feel right to just wait for others to figure everything out and give him orders when they needed him.  How was it fair to leave everything to them?  Staring absently at one of the torches along the wall the oath he swore to become a Shield sprang to mind.

        On this my sword I swear to shield the Firebird’s flames forevermore.

        But how do you shield the Firebird’s flames when you can’t fight the enemy?

            Jill sat on the bed with Torgal quietly waiting for Clive and Joshua to return.  The Archduke had found a room for her away from all the Shields where she would have some privacy as the only lady in the keep, but she’d still found her steps carrying her here instead.  She didn’t want to be alone tonight.  Little over a day had she been here and there was so much to process in the situation.  The mere fact that she was sitting here was beyond comprehension.  That part was softened by knowing she was not alone.  But she could have been.  Clive and Joshua would not have returned from Origin.  She’d known, or at the very least feared to the point of being convinced.  It was only blind hope that had kept her looking to the sky.  Now that she knew for certain, well, she wasn’t quite ready to face sleeping alone at the moment.  And so she waited, pretending she was still seeing the words in the book before her.  Yet even as she waited somewhat impatiently for their return, she chided herself for it.  They had the unique ability to sit with the father they’d lost and she earnestly hoped they all enjoyed every moment of their time together.  Her own family was already lost to her even by this point so she had to admit some small jealousy on that account.  She almost felt a pang of guilt when the door swung open and the brothers entered, wide smiles on their faces.

        “Oh, Jill,” Joshua addressed her when he walked in.  “What are you doing here?  Father found a room for you, did he not?”

        “He did but…  Honestly the two of you cannot tell me you died and expect all to be well.  Since you and Clive share a room I…”  Clive’s eyes softened as her words failed her.  Without comment he walked over to sit by her, pulling her into him.  Joshua followed behind to lean against the wall, stretching himself against it.  Already feeling more at ease, Jill smiled.  “You enjoyed your talk, it seems.” 

        “I don’t think we’ve ever spoken like that,” Clive confessed.

        “Do try to remember we were children when last we spoke, Brother.”  Clive quirked an eyebrow, looking Joshua up and down.

        “As opposed to presently.”  Joshua rolled his eyes in protest.  Jill only giggled.  Clive squeezed her shoulders.  When she looked up he was smiling softly at her. 

        “That’s a better look,” he said.  Her smile widened momentarily but fell.  She needed to say this to them now.

        “About Origin.  I regretted not going with you almost as soon as you left,” she admitted quietly.  “I was terrified of losing myself to Shiva.  Now that I know what happened there I keep thinking I should have gone despite my fears. I—”

        “It would not have mattered, Jill,” Joshua interrupted.  “Ultima was so powerful one Dominant, no matter whom it may have been, would have made little difference.”

        “You cannot know that.”

        “He does,” Clive said gravely.  She looked up at him sharply, seeing his seriousness. 

        “I do not believe Dion ever meant to return.  It was the price he believed he must pay for his sins.  My own fate was sealed with the prison I made at Drake’s Head.”

        “And nothing could have helped me withstand the aether,” Clive finished.  Jill hugged her arms closer to her, suddenly feeling a very familiar cold within her core.  It was the same feeling she had after being told that Clive and Joshua were dead.  Cold wasn’t even the right word for it.  It was the complete absence of warmth, the warmth they had always given to her vanishing forever. 

        “I see.”  She nodded, taking a deep breath, and focused her attention on the pressure of Clive’s arm around her shoulders.  That spark was still there beside her.  He was not really gone then and he was not this time either.  “Then I suppose I’ll have to thank whoever provided us this.”  Forcing a smile back onto her face she looked up at both of them.  “If that proves to be Ultima then I shall thank him while we defeat him once more.  This time, together.  I will not stay behind again.”

        “I know you wished to do something different once it was over,” Clive said.  “If you still wish to leave the Twins I will do everything in my power to give that to you.”  He looked down at her questioningly.  She wanted to leave, yes, but she could not in good conscience abandon the struggle to come.  Besides, Clive going with her was always part of the wish and he could not do that yet.  As usual he was thinking of her before his own needs or desires.  They both knew her strength would be needed.

        “This is not what I wished for, no.  Yet I will not turn away.  You know that.”  Relief slipped through his features, try though he might to hide it.

        “I do.  I only want you to know that it is your choice this time.  No one will force you to use magic or to prime or to kill.”

        “He speaks true, Jill,” Joshua agreed. 

        “Thank you.  Both of you.  This may not have been my desire but I do not want to lose anyone else.  I meant it.  We will do this together.”

        “Together, then,” Joshua echoed.  Clive smiled at them both, an understanding he’d seemingly only recently developed shining brightly in his blue eyes.  Once he would have shunned the notion of help but no longer.

        “Together,” he said.

Chapter Text

        The next day Elwin declared a day of rest for the Shields within the walls of Phoenix Gate.  A light guard would still be needed on the walls and a couple in the dungeons with their prisoners, but those not on duty were free to take their ease in light of their aid in the last couple of days.  Although part of him very much wanted to return to Rosalith quickly, the Shields were all tired.  They could afford an extra day.  It also gave him a chance to think for a moment.  Everything had been such a whirlwind there had been almost no time to do so as yet.  The only thing he currently knew was that they would not need to enter the Apodytery right now.  If they chose to continue the campaign for Drake’s Breath, it would be later when they had time to better prepare.  Right now they had intruders, a traitor, and potentially further complications to address.  Delaying for the sake of the men was definitely the right call.  He certainly was not merely delaying the inevitability of bringing his traitorous wife home to declare to the realm her crimes.  It was the first time he could remember that something of this nature had happened, though.  An odd defector here and there perhaps, but a blatant traitor?  And from the Archduke’s own house no less?  It was unheard of. 

        He had tried to get Clive and Joshua to tell him more of her future crimes they had thwarted here but they held fast to that particular secret.  While they claimed they would hold no secrets, they did not wish to sway his judgement with that knowledge until it was all over.  That only made him wonder even more at what they might say.  There was a feeling in the pit of his stomach that this attack may well have been the least of her treachery in those eighteen years and that scared him, if he was being honest with himself.  What he simply could not understand, however, was why Annabella would resort to blatant betrayal.  He knew of her elitist tendencies like others did yet he never saw this coming.  Was he blind or she more troubled than he imagined?  Perhaps that much was an answer he could have without knowing her future. 

        The cold stone echoed his footsteps as he walked down the stairs toward the dungeon.  If his sons would not tell him what she did do, he would simply find out what she could do.  It would not change what was coming either way but for his own peace of mind he needed to know.  He needed to know what this woman was capable of as much as he needed to know what his sons had been through.  The dungeons were dimly lit by torches along one wall flickering in the ever-present draft in this dank space.  They had separated their prisoners as much as they could given the limited space available to them.  The keep was not made for housing prisoners, however, and there was little space to spare.  Annabella was the only one occupying a cell alone, the single amenity afforded her in propriety.

        “Finally you’ve come to your senses, I see.”  Annabella stood and stepped with head raised high to the door of the cell.  When he did not move she sighed with inflated exasperation.  “Well go on, then.  Open it.”

        “Whatever you believe this to be, my dear, I assure you it is not.”  Her eyes narrowed in immediate disdain.

        “You still refuse to admit your mistake?”

        “Precisely what mistake would that be?” 

        “Why, this wrongful imprisonment, obviously.  Honestly, Elwin, I should not think it so difficult.”

        “You conspired with a foreign nation to have the ducal line murdered and attempted to have our son branded.  How is one expected to react to such a thing?”  She stared a moment and then laughed, far too carefree a sound to Elwin’s mind.

        “I did nothing of the sort!  Sanbreque chose who lived, not I.  With Joshua safely in hand, the line would endure regardless.”

        “Merely under a different rule,” he growled, noting the obvious and unsurprising omission.

        “Yes, yes, Sanbreque would be the new home of the Phoenix.  It was the only place with a Dominant of noble breeding.  Placing Bahamut and the Phoenix within the same echelons would have been of great power against the Blight, had you been able to see the benefit.”  Elwin schooled himself into careful neutrality.  All that death and she thought it might help the Blight.  Granted he might’ve thought it could help too just yesterday.  No one knew the real cause.  While he wanted to lay blame for that foolishness upon her, he couldn’t blame her for something she could not know.  What angered him the most was that she so willingly abandoned their people for it.

        “And what of our people?” he asked quietly.  “What of the Rosarians who would have suffered when the Phoenix seemingly abandoned them to their fate?  When the Shields and armies were gone and there was no one left to turn to?”  Annabella paced back to the interior of her cell and back again with a quiet, annoyed hiss.

        “Still so blind.  What use is a country against the Blight?  How do you intend to protect your sovereignty and your bloodline when the Blight pushes everything away?  You would sit on an abandoned throne ruling over ashes on the vain promise of protecting your honor.  Should the Blight take Rosarians they will not be missed.  Should the borders fall, a true ruler can build a new kingdom with new subjects to support him.  It can all be replaced if one can but stop the Blight.”

        “You think this about borders and support?  About Rosarians providing for us?”

        “Elwin it has ever been exactly that.  You were simply too blind to see it.”

        Why had he done this?  Why had his sense driven him to seek answers to questions he had so long ignored?  Annabella was right.  He was blind.  In all his effort to stave off the Blight and still the Northern Territories he had ignored the signs in his own home of something lurking beneath the surface.  He knew what she said of Clive and while he did what he could to snuff it out, it was never enough.  He knew what Shields and citizens alike said of her when they thought him beyond hearing, that her kind words were always false and read like a script.  He had seen how she looked down upon everyone she deemed unworthy, both within their home and without.  The signs were there of a woman who cared naught for others she did not see a use for while never realizing it was they whom they needed most of all.  Guilt and anger swirled within him, mixing and mingling at the realization of just what he’d never wanted to see.  The simple fact was that the way she viewed the world always was and always would be a problem.  It was always a dam waiting to burst, a confrontation waiting to happen.  Even if they had not caught her here there would have been another plot.

        “It is a wonder I never allowed myself to see the snake who shared my bed.  To think that would be the most dangerous enemy of the duchy.”  Annabella glowered at him.

        “Your damnable honor will be your undoing, Elwin.”

        “Maybe it will one day.  And your unreasonable pride was yours.  Remember that when you return to Rosalith in chains and none come forward to speak for you.”

        Turning on his heel he left Annabella behind, ignoring some desperate plea about being a mother of Dominants.  Whatever that statement meant was far too ludicrous to pay any heed.  Guilt at his own shortcomings knotted in his stomach but he didn’t regret this conversation.  It gave him some much needed clarity in a way he hadn’t expected.  Elwin had always believed rule of a country a privilege rather than a right, a belief instilled in him from an early age by his father.  People could survive without a ruler; this could not be said for the opposite.  To that end he had always endeavored to do the best he could for those who allowed him to be Archduke, especially since he was not the Phoenix.  He was proud of his station because of their acceptance, not as an expected matter of course.  Although he could never claim to be free of mistakes, he did the best he could.  After seeing who his wife truly was, it highlighted what he needed to do moving forward.  He needed to protect his people as he had always done from whatever may threaten them, be that Sanbreque and the Iron Kingdom or the Blight and a god.

Meanwhile

        Joshua stood before the door to the Apodytery, the door he’d been meant to go through so long ago and never had.  At least, not for the reasons he was meant to.  He’d thought he might do so this time in at least a show but his father had wisely chosen not to allow it to go even that far after Annabella’s betrayal.  Of course, his father now also knew taking Drake’s Breath would do little for them anyway.  The attack had strangely worked in their favor as a good reason to call it off while making sure all was well back in the capitol.  No one had objected the decision, Joshua least of all.  After so many years without the ceremony of being the Phoenix he found the prospect of it being thrust upon him once again uncomfortable.  He also hated the idea of Clive just following along behind as his Shield.  Clive, of all people, should never have to follow Joshua.  Not now.  It annoyed him to know his brother would go right along with it while thinking nothing out of place.

        So why was he standing before this door now?  He wasn’t entirely sure himself.  This Fallen construct was simply a torment for reasons he couldn’t fathom.  He wanted to walk away.  He wanted to enter.  He wanted to be standing precisely here and why he had no idea.  Perhaps it was simply because all was seemingly well now and he had already expected to swallow his distaste for the ceremony and to do his duty anyway.  But there was one thing about the Apodytery that had always bothered him.  Nothing had happened.  What was supposed to happen?  Why could only the Dominant of the Phoenix enter it?  Surely something was supposed to happen.  So why didn’t it?  When he had eventually told Jote of his misgivings concerning it she had been confident that he was overthinking the matter.  Although he never spoke of it again, he just couldn’t stop questioning it even years later.

        “There you are.”  Clive’s voice made him nearly jump out of his skin, heart hammering at the intrusion.  He’d been so far into his own thoughts he hadn’t even heard his footsteps on the stairs.  “Are you alright?  I’ve been looking all over for you.”  Hand to his heart, willing it to slow to a normal pace, he turned.

        “You startled me.”

        “I was not trying to be quiet.”  Clive smirked knowingly.  “Sank too far into your own thoughts again?”

        “So it would seem.”

        “Would you like to share or shall I leave you to your endless ruminations?”  Torgal ran down the stairs at breakneck speed to catch up with Clive, protesting with a whimper when he tripped on the last step.  Clive quickly knelt down to scratch the pup in apology.  “I’m sorry, Torgal.  I keep forgetting you can’t keep up.  Perhaps if Joshua does not want my company, however, he will accept yours.”  He looked up with a question in his eye.

        “You both are welcome to stay,” Joshua admitted.  “I have been thinking about the Apodytery,” he began, unsure of what he would even say.  “When I entered years ago, nothing happened.  Returning here now I keep thinking that if nothing happened, what is the point of such a place?  Is it merely for show and ceremony?”

        “Are not most religious places we have seen?  Ultima never spoke to them and it seems likely this was once a shrine to him.”

        “That is true.  However we as Rosarians have never worshipped at anyone’s alter.  We revere the Founder, not gods.  So why would the Phoenix continue to visit this place for so long?  I now wonder if I missed something then and dismissed it before I ought have.”

        “Missed?  You said you went all the way to the mural, did you not?”

        “I did, however I do not speak of rooms and ruins.  I wonder if I, as the Phoenix, failed to see something crucial.  I…”  Joshua looked at his brother, realization dawning.  Now that he thought about it with more scrutiny, that was a very real possibility.  Just as Clive had been forced to cope with the events of the Night of Flames, so had he and it took time.  “Clive, I never thought on it until now.  The last time I was here, I was still reeling from the Night of Flames.  I was angry and scared and alone and confused.  I hated myself, hated the Phoenix, was terrified Ifrit would return if I dared step foot here.”  Clive clenched a hand and turned away quickly.  “Please, do not feel guilty.  I do not share this so that you may punish yourself further.”  He offered a small nod and while he did not look back, the grip of his fist did ease.

        “It took you a long time to dare return, then?”

        “Not at all,” he scoffed.  “My need for answers outweighed my fear of the consequences.  This was the first place I traveled when I was well enough to do so, though I did have to sneak out of the Undying compound to do it.  They were quite adamant that a few months of functioning in the world were not enough.”  Clive suddenly looked at him sharply.

        “You said last night you came here six or so years later.”  It was immediately obvious what his mistake had been and he could think of no way out of it now.  He should have considered his words better.  He had never told Clive how badly he was hurt that night.  He’d never told him that none thought he would actually live. 

        “My point is that—”

        “Joshua.  What are you not telling me?”  He knew such a flimsy deflection would not work.  Nothing for it now.  At least he might take the news better now than he would have after they were reunited.  Still, he sighed in nervous resignation and took Clive’s hand.  He pressed it against his heart firmly enough to feel it beating and held it there. 

        “I want you to place your focus upon that and not upon my words.”  He held his gaze firmly until Clive nodded.  “When the Undying found me that night I was barely breathing.  They told me little of my injuries save their certainty I would not live.  They cared for me dutifully but they could only do so much.  Between the injuries and the exhaustive amount of aether I’d used at such a young age, it was five years before I opened my eyes again.”

        “Years?” Clive breathed in shock, hand quivering beneath his.  Joshua held it firmly against his chest to reinforce that it did still beat.  “I did that t—”

        “No.  Clive, stop right there.”  The panicked look was already creeping into his eyes and Joshua would have none of it.  “I will not allow you to blame yourself once more for that night.  This is precisely why I never spoke of it.  I knew all too well what you would do with such information.  My situation was in truth better than yours, little though you want to see that.  It is over and past.  Let us be done with the Night of Flames once and for all.”  Clive drew a shuddering breath but the panic did fade. 

        “You’re right.  I’m sorry.  I just never thought you had lost that much.”  Finally Joshua let his hand go and Clive withdrew it.  He took a deep breath to center himself before continuing.  “Alright.  You went into the Apodytery after you woke.”

        “Yes.  As I was saying, I was something of a mess when I entered that door.  I found the mural at the end and latched onto it as something I could investigate.  It was important and it did lead me to many other things.  However what might happen if I were too out of touch with the Phoenix when I entered or if he were too weak?  Might it not be possible that whatever is meant to happen for the Phoenix’s Dominant in that ruin did not happen for me simply because I was too burdened to hear it?”

        “And so you missed what your Eikon was meant to say.”

        “Precisely.  Although ‘say’ may be an inappropriate word.  I have never heard of an Eikon saying anything or having a will its own.  Not even Father knew what was supposed to happen.  I remember asking as a child.”  He stepped towards the door, deciding what it was he wanted after all.  “I want to go in, Clive.  I am far from the boy I once was when last I stood here.  I want to know what it is I missed.”  It was quiet a moment as he knew Clive considered what he said.

        “Then I suppose it is well that your Shield is here to stand guard as I was meant to.”  But Joshua shook his head.  That was exactly what their roles would have been that day.  So much had changed since then, though.  Neither of them were the same, Clive most of all.  He turned back to look at him resolutely.

        “No.  I want you to come with me.  You are not merely a Shield now, Brother.  You are as important to Rosaria as I, though they do not know it.  Our flames burn as one, remember?  So long as that holds true you’ve as much a right to enter as I.”  Clive scoffed at the idea yet still stepped forward.

        “Joshua, the last time I entered that ruin the guardians attacked us relentlessly.  I do not think it wise I anger them again.”

        “All will be well.  I am certain of it.  Should the guardians attack, I will be with you as Jill was the first time.  If you trusted me to aid you against Ultima I should think a few Fallen guardians would give you little pause.”  He smiled as Clive twisted his mouth, recognizing he had no reasonable excuse not to. 

        “Very well then,” he gave in.  He knelt down to Torgal and scratched the pup one more time.  “I don’t think you’re ready for this, boy.  Wait here for us, alright?”  Torgal yipped sadly, but did sit down to wait.  The brothers then walked to the door.  “You are opening the doors.  Just in case.”

        Without further ado, Joshua did just that and they descended into the Apodytery together.

        Once the door shut, muffled footsteps walked down the stairs into the Hall of the Gate.  Wade looked around cautiously to make sure the Rosfield brothers were gone before descending further in, Tyler following behind.  Torgal looked around at them, whining in something akin to a question and happily panting when Wade leaned down to scratch behind his ear.

        “How did you know they would enter?” Tyler asked in amazement while studying the door.

        “I didn’t.  They’re in an awkward position, though, right?  Knowing the future, worried about us here and now.  And they say the Dominant does some sort of communion or something with their Eikon here.  Thought they’d give it a go before we all left.”

        “Or you’ve been worried about them after the other night,” Tyler retorted dubiously, taking a post on one side of the door.

        “Me?  Worried about Dominants?”  Wade shook his head as he stood from scratching Torgal and took up watch opposite Tyler.  “Even if something were wrong what could I do but fetch Lady Jill?”

        “Then what, pray tell, are we doing here, Wade?  They clearly did not intend to announce their entrance.”

        “I don’t know,” Wade admitted quietly after some thought.  He heaved a sigh and shuffled a bit, though he did not look back at Tyler.  “Did I ever tell you why I was so determined to become a Shield?”

        “You did not.  Only that it was important.” 

        “It was.  Is.  Remember that storm that rolled in off the sea a few years back?  One they said was a bad omen?”

        “I was away with His Grace at the time but I remember hearing people speak of it, yes.  We were all concerned when the stolas arrived informing us of the damage.”

        “Well the wind from it picked up the chocobo stables in the bailey and dashed into the wall with the wood pile stacked against it.  It was a real mess.  I managed to get on the work crew for the cleanup.  I’d never been near the castle before.  Maybe if I hadn’t been gawking at it all I’d have heard the pile of wood come tumbling down on my head.  Next thing I know I’m looking at this blond child above me doing something I didn’t understand.  I think I’m hallucinating but he just smiled and said ‘It’s going to be alright’ like he knew exactly what to do.”

        “The Phoenix?” Tyler asked with a small bit of wonder peaking through.  Wade nodded.

        “No idea where he came from that day but he saved my life.  I grew up some poor nobody.  You know that.  But he didn’t care who I was or where I was from.  Only that I was in trouble.  I swore then that I would repay that compassion somehow.”

        “And so you sought their personal guard.”

        “Aye.  That boy changed my life, Tyler, and I doubt he even remembers it.  That’s not to mention the lord marquess, too.  I owe them both my life now.  After last night I can’t stop thinking that I can do more than wait to be asked for assistance.  Leaving everything to the Rosfields isn’t right.  I don’t have the answer to what that means yet, so until I do figure it out I’ll happily stand honor guard in secret.”  Wade kept his eyes determinedly forward, not seeing the amused smirk Tyler gave him with a sidelong glance.

        “I suppose if nothing else it is better we know where they are,” he acquiesced with a small chuckle.  He settled further into his post for the long wait.  “I have a strange feeling diving headlong into the unknown with no hint as to the depth is how they both choose to live their lives.”

Chapter Text

        The door to the Apodytery slammed shut behind them, rumbling faintly through the floor of the corridor.  Clive had never given much thought to what lay beyond that door until he’d gone through himself.  A minor curiosity was all.  Yet after entering it, he’d thought this to be the extent of the ruins.  He never imagined it would open up into the cavern that awaited them as they descended the stairs.  The massive ruins surrounded by water were so out of place.  The size alone gave the feeling of being outside rather than underground.  How it had gotten here to begin with was completely beyond him.  Then again, most Fallen ruins were an enigma to all who looked upon them.  Even after everything they’d learned on their journey they could only speculate at the real nature of the Fallen.  Although the stories made a bit more sense now, he had to admit.  Joshua quickly and confidently trotted down the stairs.  He opened the door and once again they were faced with the mysterious sight.  Clive slowed his steps as they approached the moving floor.  It was the only place to go here.  He knew that.  To continue they would have to step onto it but that was where things had taken a turn the first time.  Perhaps this was not the wisest course of action after all.  Joshua stopped to look back at him, tilting his head in an unspoken question.

        Coming?  Clive hastened his steps somewhat warily, hand half-reaching for his blade.

        Just cautious.  Joshua rolled his eyes.

        Hoping he was right he stepped up beside him on the circular moving floor, allowing Joshua to activate it at the center rather than him.  If they were lucky perhaps that would dissuade the guardians.  Clive still kept a weather eye on them waiting for any sign of movement.  Joshua stepped through the central crystal and the platform jolted into its disorienting downward slide. 

        “I’ll never get used to this,” he muttered to himself under his breath.  One hand on the hilt of his sword, he watched the guardians.  Minutes ticked past as the floor descended into the depths.

        “I think they remain dormant,” Joshua finally said.  “I would have thought them active by now were they going to do so.”

        “They certainly were last time,” Clive admitted, relaxing a little and dropping his hand from his sword.  “I’m still of a mind to destroy them before they change their mind.”

        “That would most like prove unwise.”

        “I know.  Better not to tangle with them at all.”  The floor stuttered to a halt beneath them and Clive let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when the guardians surrounding them did not activate either.  They could deal with the guardians of these ruins, of that he had no doubt.  But…  “Suppose I’m a little on edge after running into Carrot in the marshes.”

        “Hm.  I had not considered that.  A founded concern.  We should remain vigilant in case but I think the usual guardians will not be a problem.”   Walking past the creatures, Joshua stepped up to the next door.

        “Has anything felt different to you yet?”  The door slid open and they stepped through, Clive glancing back one more time at the still guardians behind them.

        “I feel somewhat comfortable here, or perhaps settled is a more accurate word.  If that is the difference in mental stability or something more, I am unsure.”

        The stale, odd-smelling air of the place was something Clive didn’t particularly desire to smell once again but he eventually got used to it.  Why did all these Fallen ruins smell the same?  Like old mildewed stone, damp air, and metal.  It didn’t matter where they were located, it was the same.  The oppressive quiet of the ruins themselves was more unsettling than the smell, though.  Were it not for their footsteps, there would be no sound here at all, and even that little bit seemed not to travel as far as it would normally, dampened by some unseen force.  It was as if this place was never made for any living thing to enter.  From the fathomless depths beneath them to the soaring ceilings, nothing seemed made for man save the ramps in place of stairs, and even those were questionable.

        “I am glad you agreed to accompany me, Clive,” Joshua said after navigating several winding corridors and rooms.  “It is difficult to describe the lonely feeling of the last time I was here, but having company now I can most assuredly say is preferable.”  Not knowing what to say, Clive held his tongue.  It was a sensitive subject for them both and he would not force it now.  Joshua himself seemed to be deciding if he wished to say more or not.  He remained silent until reaching the second moving floor.  Once it lurched into motion he crossed his arms across his chest and settled his weight onto his back foot.  “This was the first time I’d been alone since I woke.  This wide open, empty, silent expanse leaving me with my grief.  Now I see that it had been a poor decision to come here while attempting to cope with it all.  This place feels much more peaceful now.”

        “Peaceful isn’t a word I would have chosen.”  Joshua shrugged with a small twist of his lips.

        “Perhaps it is the Phoenix resonating with the place, then.  This was the only place I’d allowed myself to cry for what we had lost.  I could not allow the Undying to witness that.  I would not even allow Jote to see that and I was closer to her than any other.  I snuck away from her as well to come here.  It was the one thing I needed to do alone.  She was most displeased with me when I finally returned.”  Clive buried the urge to apologize for it all once again.  Joshua was right: it was time to put it to rest.

        “I had not thought of Jote these last days.  Should we find her?”  Joshua had told him much of his travels with the Undying Attendant, but for all he said Clive could never quite pin what their relationship really was.  Sometimes he didn’t think his brother knew either.  Joshua, however, shook his head, reaching out an arm to balance himself as the floor came to rest.

        “Not yet simply because I do not know.  I would be grateful for her presence at some point.  Jote is still young.  I have long felt guilty for burdening her with my own needs while she was unable to choose for herself.  Never would she complain, which makes it all the more frustrating.  In that regard she reminded me much of you.  I wish for her to have better this time but I do not know what that means.”  He reached out to open the door.  “Until I can decipher that, it is best she remain with the Undying.”

        “I know a great many people who would be disappointed by such an answer.  Half the hideaway thought you together, you know.”  Joshua halted to look back at him with wide eyes before turning back around and stalking onward.

        “Perish the thought.  I will grant them our relationship was unique unto ourselves alone but we had a great many boundaries we never crossed.”  Clive thought he saw just a bare hint of color on Joshua’s ear and chose to drop the subject with a slight, knowing smirk.  If he knew Joshua, and he did, he was likely as clueless as Clive had always been.  Under the circumstances, that may prove a boon.  It seemed unlikely Jote would remember their previous lifetime.  Had she and Joshua been close, it would be painful for him now.  Still, Clive made a mental note to work on that situation when they were able.  If he could have Jill with him it seemed only fair Joshua got to have his companion and partner alongside him as well, even if it were not exactly the same.

        Past one more doorway and up another moving floor they arrived in the central chamber of the Apodytery.  It was as impressive as the main room above, burned mural still dominating the architecture.  At least now they knew what that mural meant.  This particular venture wasn’t about Ultima or Mythos or even the Fallen, though, and that was a strange relief to Clive at least.  This time they were here for Joshua.  Clive looked around them, spying the Iron Giant that had been the last line of defense against he and Jill, standing guard against one wall.  It didn’t seem to have taken notice of them.  A chill ran down his back at the implication that it had been moved into that position as a trap for them sometime after this, perhaps as they fought their way through the other guardians.  It gave the ruin an added level of the bizarre he didn’t want to think about.

        Joshua took in the sight of the chamber for a minute before wordlessly walking down the slope toward the central platform.  Clive followed behind assuming that if anything happened for the Phoenix in this place it would be there.  Nothing changed until halfway down the ramp to that platform.  Joshua suddenly stopped mid-step, and Clive immediately could tell why.  The stagnant air moved with a foreign breeze from somewhere in the depths that brought with it the metallic taste and smell of aether.  He hated that smell almost as badly as he hated the taste it deposited on his tongue.  No amount of water ever removed the coppery tinge in his mouth that lingered for hours.  It swirled around, pooling through the door before them, tingling his skin like an invisible insect crawling across him.  Clive nodded to his brother in confirmation and Joshua cautiously crept to the final gateway.  Holding his hand to the glowing stone, it slid open with a loud echo. 

        Staying close together they scanned the area.  Clive distinctly remembered the creature that attacked him the last time he stood here.  Now he knew it to be one of Ultima’s minions but he’d never seen anything like it at the time.  It had been rather terrifying.  With all the aether swirling around them now he expected trouble once again.  If it wasn’t that creature, it would surely be something.  Yet nothing appeared.  As they waited, each adopting a stance ready to fight, all the light in the ruin vanished at once and plunged them into complete darkness.

        “Joshua?!”

        “Here, Brother.”  He felt Joshua’s back press against his and take his hand. 

        “What is this?”

        “I do not know.”  Something rustled in the pitch black surrounding them, moving about unseen.  He fought the urge to reach for his weapon knowing that he could hit Joshua just as easily as whatever lurked out there.  “Clive.  I cannot find the Phoenix.”

        “What?” Clive hissed.  Instinctively he reached for the Blessing.  It too was absent.  He could feel where it should be but it simply wasn’t there.

        “I meant to give us light yet it will not respond.”  Nervous panic crept into Joshua’s voice and his hand trembled at the absence.  Before Clive could say anything a small light appeared in his periphery.

        “Look.  Your left.”

        “Is that a torch?”

        The small light grew in size.  Or perhaps more accurately, it got closer.  Blinking against the blinding flame they found they were looking at something that was decidedly not the Apodytery.  They stood on a hillside slick with dew in the last hours of twilight.  Crickets chimed all around while water flowed somewhere out of sight.  The only sound made by human hands, though, was rhythmic tapping on wood.  Following the sound regardless of the danger, hands still clasped to remain together, they found a single man on top of the hill hammering a wooden stake into place to complete a ramshackle shelter.  Beyond him they could barely see the waves of the sea.

        “Founder…” Joshua murmured.  “It’s the Founder, Clive.  I do not understand how I know that yet I do.  It is the Founder.”

        As swiftly as it had appeared the scene vanished to ash to be replaced in the span of a blink by a new vision.  This one was bright and filled with people.  While Clive couldn’t say he received the same kind of information Joshua did, there was some phantom understanding that this was centuries later.  A spreading town greeted them with happy and prosperous residents.  Some kind of celebration swept through the streets.  Scarlet banners fluttered in the breeze as people cheered someone moving in a procession through the town.  A tall blond man with a sincere smile on his face strode through town waving to everyone he saw.  He bent to ruffle the hair of an enthusiastic child and continued on his way, the child giggling gleefully at his back. 

        “He’s a Dominant of the Phoenix,” Joshua said, staring at the man like he was unexpectedly greeted by an old friend he’d thought long gone.

        As before it faded to ash to be reformed as something else.  The city in place of the town looked much like Rosalith, if smaller and unfinished.  Similar scarlet banners once again hung from every surface.  Hundreds of people gathered before the gates of what could only be the castle to watch a ceremony with unabashed excitement.  A man with black hair knelt before a line of distinguished men who placed a crown upon his head.  He had never seen it in person, but Clive knew this to be the crown of Rosaria.  It was only ever brought out at the coronation of a new Archduke.  When the man stood and turned, the similarity to their father was instantly noticeable.

        “I think you need not say who that is,” he whispered in awe.  He had seen the portrait of the first Archduke in the library, making this the day the people of Rosaria installed the Phoenix as their leader.

        Instead of fading to ash the world moved at a dizzying speed around them both making Clive nauseous.  A thousand celebrations, a thousand hopeful cries and a thousand tearful laments to the Phoenix to mark births and deaths over centuries.  None of them were clear.  Most were vague voices rather than true visions.  The specifics were not the point.  What each of them contained was overwhelming gratitude, love, compassion, and appreciation.  There were so many of them it was impossible not to see exactly what the point of the visions was, even to one not the Dominant.  The Phoenix was loved. 

        Then the world shifted to a view Clive never wanted to see again.

        The halls of Origin stretched before him, a path toward an end he never wanted nor imagined.  Breath caught in his throat at the sound of a muffled sob.  He knew beyond doubt it was his own.  And if it was his own, there was only one thing he would see if he walked into that room.  Sucking in a sharp breath he took a half step backward away from what he could already see forming in his mind.  He couldn’t do this.  Not again.  He couldn’t see that again.  All that blood and the unmoving weight in his arms…  A calm hand an his arm settled his racing mind and brought his steps to a halt.

        “I am right here, Brother,” Joshua said.  “And here I shall remain.  Let us see what awaits us this time, shall we?”  Clive nodded, taking comfort in his brother standing close.  He gripped his hand tightly.  Joshua was right here, not there.  Right here.  He repeated it over and over in his mind in preparation of what was to come.

        They walked through the last corridor, this time without him needing to help Joshua walk.  In the back of his mind he rued the decision to bring Joshua with him at all when they had made this trek.  Perhaps it would not have ended as it did.  He knew that was only guilt and sorrow talking, though.  Had he not done so, the only difference would have been that Joshua would have been too far away to give him the Phoenix.  They stopped just inside the Nexus.  Ultima was nowhere to be seen nor were any of the other fragments.  From that alone, this must be after Clive defeated him and absorbed his aether.  Eyes stinging from held-back tears, he forced himself to see what played out before him, though he would never be able to forget anything about this if he tried for the rest of his days.  The already uncomfortable room was silent as the grave, the only sound the memory of Clive’s crying echoing off the stone.

        “Oh.  I had not realized how much blood there was.”  Joshua’s voice quivered slightly to see the aftermath of his own death.

        “I was thinking of the day you gave me your Blessing,” Clive said shakily.  “And the day you were born.  I’d been afraid to get too close for fear of accidentally hurting you until one of the maids pushed me forward.”  He meant to say more but he choked on the emotion of the words.  The memory of himself laid the body down, removed his glove, and pulled forth the Phoenix.

        “That was quite a bit of aether you poured into me.  Really, Clive, you should have known that would not work.”

        “It is strange how far away knowledge like that gets when one is desperate enough.  Though I do not regret at the least removing that hole from your chest.  Would that I could have done it sooner.”

        “It seems Ultima’s power was too great for this vessel all along.”

        “Clive, do you feel that?”

        “Feel what?”

        “The massive buildup of aether.”

        “Oh.  I suspect that would be me.”  He pointed over to the memory of himself pulling all the aether he could to channel into the sky.

        “By the flames,” Joshua murmured in shock.  “There is so much.”  He pressed his knuckles to his lips as if even the memory of it might make him sick.  “I knew it must have been a great deal yet I never could have dreamed this.  Never have I felt so much concentrated aether and this is mere illusion.”  Clive shrugged it off, not realizing the look Joshua gave the memory of himself was one of absolute awe.

        “These…  These are our terms.”  Flames soared to the heavens in the memory, hot enough to feel a remnant of their heat even in this vision. 

        “If the aether is you, then what is the voice beneath it?”

        “Voice?  What voice?”

        “You do not hear that?  There is something buried within those flames, Brother, I swear it.” 

        Joshua, fixated on the flames before him, stepped closer trying to hear.  The process of cleansing the world proved far shorter than Clive had thought it at the time.  He could from here see the moment he could no longer function, the moment he became conduit not caster.  And in that moment, when his soul failed him, a trail of fire snaked its way out of the morass to land on the body behind him.  It completely encompassed it without burning.  Not a thread of his clothing was singed.  Above them the tall ceiling cracked loudly.  He could see the fractures running through it  from here with the force of the flames flowing into the air.

        “Unacceptable,” Joshua suddenly said in an undulating voice similar to that of his semi-primed voice.  “I find your terms unacceptable.”  Clive spun back around quickly to see his brother robed in Phoenix flames spilling out from the pillar behind him, not semi-primed but most certainly not normal.  The Phoenix’s wings spread from his back.  Small motes of flame orbited him like Ifrit’s flames did for Clive, tendrils encircled his hands and pressed against his back as a hand urging him onward.  Yet more flames pooled around his feet as smoothly as a puddle in the rain, sparks and embers dripping into it with ripples flowing outward.  In his unfocused eyes, rather than the blue or even gold of a Dominant, licked flames to mimic those engulfing him.  “I want a better world.  I dare to seek a better world.  I will endure what I must to see it so.” 

        “Joshua?”  Clive called quietly, more reflex than actual call.  Joshua didn’t even blink at his name.

        “Even if I cannot remain, if that better world cannot include me.  I want those who loved me to live, to be happy, and be together.  And I will give them the strength they need.  An army, if that’s what it takes.  I rise from the ashes of despair to bring hope and life.  I am the Phoenix, ruler over life and death…”  There was a flare of light behind Clive and the flames around Joshua’s body rose high above then blinked out of existence.  Another flare from the flames where he had been trying to cleanse the world pulsed forth and faded, also rising skyward and blinking out.  “I am the Phoenix and it is my turn to protect what I hold dear.”

        The flames died out around where Clive had been standing in his memory as well as around Joshua.  Through a hole in the disintegrating ceiling he caught sight of a fiery aurora spreading across the sky, just like Jill had described it.  A breath passed in silence, his mind racing at what he just witnessed.  How much of this had actually happened and how much was due to this vision of his own memory he had no idea. 

        “Clive…” Joshua called out in a normal, if quiet, voice.  He teetered on his feet, one arm barely raised to reach for Clive as he clumsily took a couple stumbling steps.  Clive darted over and caught him before he could collapse.  “It was him…” he whimpered against his chest, his full weight falling limply against him. Looking down he spotted a single tear spilling from Joshua’s closed eyes.

        “What is this?” Clive wondered aloud.  With the swiftness of blowing out a candle on a moonless night, all light faded once again.

Chapter Text

        “You wished to see me, Your Grace?”  Jill stepped into the war room, which had apparently become a study for the Archduke during their stay here.  He looked up at her with a pinched expression but smiled it away as easily as if it had not been there.

        “Yes.  Thank you for coming.”  She curtsied somewhat awkwardly.  It had been a very long time since she’d had to do that.  “Please, Jill.  Must we stand on ceremony?”  She rose from the curtsy slowly, holding back her questions.

        “If you would like, Your Grace.”

        “What I would like is to find a way we can improve the relationship we have.  Had?”  He shook his head.  “Founder, how are you three keeping this straight?” 

        “Somewhat poorly, I suspect.”  Jill giggled.  He reminded her so much of his sons at that moment with that quizzical look on his brow.  In fact that might be the most human she had ever seen him.  That she could remember, at least.  In her memory he was always stoic and stiff.  Kind, but always like he was on display for all to see.  He never took a break that she saw.  With a sympathetic smile and a chuckle he pulled a seat out for her and she gratefully took it.

        “My point being, you and I have not had a strong relationship in the past.  I would like to change that if we are able.  To start I have a great many thanks to offer you.  Most simply, I sincerely appreciate your thoughtfulness in allowing me some time with Clive and Joshua.”

        “It was nothing.  Truly.”

        “It still meant a great deal to me.”

        “And to them.  Not long before they left for their final confrontation they were able to complete the armbands you intended for them.  I saw the way they looked at those with longing in their eyes, especially when they returned from your…”  Jill swallowed the rest and looked away.  Someone’s own grave seemed an awkward thing to discuss.  Elwin cocked an eyebrow but let it go.

        “So many years later and they were able to receive that gift?  How?”

        “The woman you entrusted the order to.  She kept track of the griffin through the intervening years.  The Undying connected her with your sons and they slew the beast together.  She completed the armbands for them just before leaving for their confrontation with Ultima.  I think they both thought of it as carrying you with them.”  He leaned on the table thoughtfully.

        “A strange feeling, knowing something so relatively simple would find its way to them so long afterward.”

        “And at such a poignant moment.  We all knew what might happen once they left.”  The last part she almost whispered. 

        “Well,” Elwin cleared his throat to dismiss the subject, “I did not ask you here to speak of my sons alone.  I must also thank you for your assistance the other night as well.  You saved my life, Jill.  More than once.  I cannot thank you enough for your intervention.”  Jill smiled, unsure of what to say.  His sincerity made everything seem insufficient.  “Did you have any idea you were a Dominant at this point originally?”  The smile faded instantly, thoughts of the Ironblood rising to the surface.

        “No.  I had no idea until I was taken by the Ironblood.  The awakening happened very suddenly and none were more surprised than I.” 

        That was a day that would forever be burned into her memory.  They had selected a pregnant woman for their barbaric sacrifices to the Mothercrystal.  She had clung, terrified, to Jill’s leg as they tried to pull her away to her death.  The poor woman kept muttering about saving her, Jill was their family, she would be kind like them, right?  In the midst of that scorching volcano her words turned Jill’s blood to ice.  Kind like them.  Like Clive and Joshua and the Archduke.  They would protect this woman if they were there.  She had pulled the woman to her feet and stepped in front of her, staring down the dogs like she could actually protect anything.  They’d laughed at her of course.  They kept laughing up until she froze them solid with a flood of power she could barely control.  It was only instinct that had moved her body at that point.  The power had been a rush and part of her relished in taking from those who had stolen so much from them.  But she was small and inexperienced.  It was only a matter of time before they exhausted her and had her cornered.  Everything changed after that.

        “I would like to ask what happened yet it is plain to see this is painful for you to speak of.  Forgive me for being so careless.”  Jill forced the memory from her mind to focus on the kind man before her.  Things were different now.  She had to focus on that.

        “It’s alright.  I would by lying if I said I didn’t still harbor some hatred for them after what they did to us all, but I found a purpose.  Helping others was a way of atoning for everything I had done by their hand.”

        “Might I ask you something bordering on the insensitive?”  She nodded but he eyed her carefully to gauge her reaction.  “The Eikons Clive took, I cannot assume they were given willingly aside from Ramuh, the Phoenix, and yours.  I can see why a dying man might surrender his power but it seems you were under no such threat.  Is this atonement why you chose to allow it?”  Jill hugged her arms to her trying to find the words.  Clive had understood but she wasn’t sure anyone else would.

        “I suppose it helped.  If nothing else I was not sad to be rid of Shiva.  The curse already had a hold on me anyway after those years and it was only a matter of time before it rendered me a liability.”

        “You are well now, yes?” he interrupted quickly at the mention of the curse.

        “I am, thank you.”

        “Good.  I have no small worry for you all concerning that.  Please, continue.  If that were only part of it may I ask what the rest was?”

        “To answer that I should explain Barnabas Tharmr’s involvement.  He gave himself over to Ultima and did all he could to pressure Clive onto the path Ultima wanted for him.  Their first direct confrontation was…”  She drew a shuddering breath remembering Clive lying still before her, blood splattered everywhere.  The singular instance in their years together she had truly feared for his life.  “It was as brief as it was terrifying,” she finally said.  “The second went only slightly better.  Clive and I had been partners in freeing Bearers and keeping the hideaway running for years but where he had to go, I could not follow.  I would be a liability against this kind of threat for a very different reason.”

        “Because he loves you.”  Jill nodded, cheeks growing slightly warm to hear that from someone else.

        “And I him.  Of course he would have kept Joshua away too had he allowed it but he stubbornly refused to give in.  He was so upset with me when he realized Shiva was gone.  He thought it meant I was allowing Clive to do everything on his own like he had always done, the very reason he himself refused to give him the Phoenix.  And I was allowing it, I suppose.  But I thought of it as a way to always be by his side without becoming a liability.  At that particular moment, after being beaten so badly by Tharmr, he did not need a battle partner so much as he needed my faith.  And so I did not see it as giving him Shiva; I gave him a piece of myself.”  Elwin nodded thoughtfully, processing her words. 

        “That explains much.  I confess as someone who has never known the feeling of a Dominant’s magic, it seems strange to give it up willingly.  A thought of the time in which I live, I know, and something I shall have to soon address.  I sincerely respect what you worked for with your outlaws.  I had plans to help Bearers in Rosaria, perhaps even one day free them, but I knew it would be no small feat.  Never would I have imagined wiping out magic a possibility.”

        “We were all surprised to learn of those plans, Your Grace.  We knew you to be forward thinking yet we did not know how much so.”

        “I thank you for the compliment but I have always felt I do far too little.”

        “Well, now you have some assistance from those who have lived in the deadlands,” she smiled.  “Those plans might be sped along now.”  Elwin chuckled.

        “I get the distinct impression none of you sit idle for more than a moment’s breath, do you?”  She laughed earnestly for the first time since she sat down.

        “Rarely even that long, in truth.  Most of those years Clive and I worked side by side only in name.  We only truly saw one another outside the hideaway.  I was forced to leave him notes instead of speaking directly.”

        “At least you made him hear you eventually,” he said with a teasing lilt and a lopsided smirk.  Jill blushed again.  “I apologize.  I should not be so flippant.  I have not seen either of you so happy as when you are in each other’s company and I am glad for it.”

        “Thank you,” she murmured.  There was some small part of her that had always wondered if the Archduke would have approved of their relationship.  It seemed unlikely he would not have, but it was nice to hear anyway.

        “I fear I have allowed myself to carry this too far.  Would you—”

        “Your Grace!”  Murdoch rushed into the room with little more than a cursory knock on the door in quite an uncharacteristic entrance.  A stolas was perched on his arm.  “You need to see this.  Now.”  The Archduke took the owl and placed a hand to the gem in its head.  “I’m sorry for the interruption, Lady Jill.  This could not wait.”

        “What is it?” she asked, standing curiously as if she could see the message herself.

        “By the flames…” Elwin muttered, looking at the bird with incredulous astonishment.  It felt like the temperature in the room dropped from that look alone.  She had never seen the Archduke so visibly piece himself back together from whatever he saw in that message.  “Rodney.  Tell the Shields we march south immediately.  Prepare whatever they can.  Leave anything unimportant.”

        “Yes, Your Grace.”  The Lord Commander rushed out with borderline frenzied purpose, taking the stolas with him.

        “What is going on, Your Grace?”  Elwin looked at her with a trace of fear in his eyes.

        “Iron Kingdom ships have been spotted off the shores of Port Isolde.  They will be in Rosalith tonight.”  Every bit of air in Jill’s lungs rushed out of her at once.  Her knees shook, her hands shook.  She couldn’t stop the fear overtaking every part of her, cancelling out everything within her sight in favor of a thousand memories she never wanted to remember.

        They were still coming.  The attack that took so many.  That killed so many.  How could she have thought them safe just because they stopped the Night of Flames?  They were going to take her along with everyone else.  Rosalith would be painted red with the blood of innocents and soldiers alike for some ridiculous crusade.  She’d have to become a monster.  Imreann.  That bastard was alive again and he would commit the same atrocities in the name of his religion.  She clung to whatever had a hold of her outside her own mind, the only lifeline she had.  It was warm.  Even more so against the frozen veins seeping through her skin and the frozen tracks she felt on her cheeks.  She didn’t want to be a monster again.  She didn’t want to hear the screams of those she killed at their behest. 

        No.  She slew the monster.  She would never be that person again.  She didn’t need to fear them.  Remembering where she stood through the unexpected panic she realized it didn’t have to happen.  None of it had to happen again.  And even if they couldn’t stop it completely, she was not alone anymore.

        The panic subsided and she pulled in a deep breath.  When her vision cleared of all the horrible memories which flooded her all at once she realized that the warm thing she had clung to was the Archduke himself.  He had one arm around her back and the other on her shoulder holding her steady.  Still shaking a bit she couldn’t bring herself to pull away despite her embarrassment. 

        “Are you alright?” he asked softly.  She nodded and he guided her back to her chair, then knelt in front of her when she sat.  His eyes furrowed with concern as he looked at her.  “What did they do to you, dear girl?” he murmured absently.  She didn’t think he actually wanted that answer.

        “I’m sorry, Your Grace.  I did not think that would affect me so.”  Cautiously he clasped her hands in his.

        “You need apologize for nothing.  At least you did not mean to throw Phoenix fire because I woke you from a nap.”  Jill didn’t even ask what he was talking about.  He suddenly smiled, though it was strained.  “I think it also time we found something less formal for you to call me.”  She finally managed half a laugh when he tapped her shoulder with his fist in similar fashion to his fond greeting of his sons.

        “I will give it some thought.”

        “Good.  If you are well I need to see to the men.”

        “Of course.”  She took another steadying breath to clear the remnants of panic she could ill afford to continue right now.  “I would’ve thought Clive and Joshua would be here by now.  I’ll try to find them.  Perhaps there is something we can do.”

        “Are you certain you wish to involve yourself so directly in this?” he asked worriedly.  Jill nodded firmly.

        “I know better than any here what they are capable of.  They turned me into a monster once and used my countrywomen to do it.  They would do it again if I do nothing.  For that they will know what it means to cross the Warden of Ice.”

        When Clive peaked open his eyes he expected to see the depths of the Apodytery.  Instead the lake at the entrance greeted him.  How they possibly could have returned all the way to the entrance he had no idea.  Then again, little of what just happened made sense to him.  Joshua shifted in his arms, looking blearily at where they were.  He blinked slowly then pulled in a deep breath and immediately started coughing.  He pulled away from Clive, who moved over to rub a hand up and down his back.  Even as children he had no idea if this actually helped or not but he continued doing it anyway.  In a way he suspected it helped him more than Joshua.  When the fit subsided they both looked at Joshua’s hand out of habit to see how much blood there was this time.

        “I had grown so accustomed to the blood I scarcely know what to think of its absence,” Joshua murmured staring at his blood-free palm. 

        “I am grateful for the lack of it.”  Tension he’d grown all too used to faded from his body and he let out a long breath dropping his hand from Joshua’s back.  “Are you alright?”

        “Tired but well.  The coughing was merely an aftershock of…whatever we just experienced.  How long was I…?” He vaguely motioned at Clive while sitting on the ground, carefully avoiding the edge of the moving floor.

        “Maybe a minute or two.  Not long.” 

        “You could not have possibly covered such a distance in that time, even if you were not carrying me.”

        “About that…”  Clive stretched out beside Joshua.  “I did not bring us here.  I closed my eyes against the darkness for a moment and the next moment we stood here.”

        “How could that be?”  Clive shrugged.

        “I’ve no idea.  We can place it alongside every other bizarre thing since we entered.”

        “I admit none of this is what I expected to happen when I said I wanted to try again,” Joshua mumbled, rubbing his eyes. 

        “Do you understand any of what we saw?  Is this common for the Phoenix?”  His brother shook his head slowly.

        “I cannot explain it but I think this a unique occurrence.” 

        He did not elaborate further and Clive decided to leave him to his thoughts for the moment.  It was a lot to take in.  Did the Phoenix show them those visions?  Why would it?  He would be more concerned by the entire affair if he hadn’t experienced something similar here already.  After all, he still remembered the battle he’d had with Ifrit and frankly with himself to accept the truth.  It had felt rather similar in a way.  What his mind kept returning to, however, was what Joshua had said.  Or had not said.  Those had been the Phoenix’s words.  He was sure of it.  It went against everything that should be possible, for an Eikon to speak itself, but the existence of his own Eikon went against their knowledge too.  Was this so different?  Strangely, if he really thought about it, some of what he said sounded almost familiar, like something he couldn’t quite remember from a fevered dream.

        It is my turn to protect what I hold dear.

        Clive searched for the part of the Phoenix he carried.  Feeling something that had been with him most of his life suddenly missing was uncomfortable at best.  Had he not had Ifrit in the background still fanning those flames he probably would have been far more upset by the loss.  This time when he looked for the Phoenix it was right where it was supposed to be, nestled into his chest beside Ifrit where it belonged.  He pulled a small flicker of fire into his hand experimentally.  He had no idea why he couldn’t find it earlier, but at least it felt normal now.  That said, he couldn’t imagine Joshua suddenly not being able to find his Eikon.  Losing Ifrit would have felt like a hole in the chest, he was certain, and he’d had his Eikon far less time than Joshua had the Phoenix.

        “Did you lose the Blessing as well?” Joshua asked, eying the flames flickering in his palm. 

        “I did but it seems to have returned.”

        “The Phoenix did as well.”  He raised a hand over his hear reverently.  “My feelings on my Eikon have ever been complicated.  Yet I had never felt less myself as I did in that moment.  I felt a part of me missing and despite having wished it gone numerous times, I wanted it returned.” 

        “We fight for the right to choose and one day we will be able to do so completely.  But right now we were not given the choice.  Our Eikons are a real part of us.  That was what I learned here the first time.  Of course, Ifrit continued to be stubborn and it was a long time before I could summon him at will.  Perhaps it was my own stubbornness reflected in him.”

        “If only that could explain the very real message the Phoenix gave us.  If they are a part of us, how did an Eikon speak?  You must realize that was what it was, Clive.”  He nodded.

        “I do.”

        “Then you also realize its meaning.  It was the Phoenix.  My Eikon is the reason we stand here today.  I cannot fathom how nor why save an overwhelming sadness that even now I struggle to contain.”

        “Mayhap because of us?  It seemed to be tired of losing everything.”  My turn to protect what I hold dear.  Could an Eikon hold anything dear?  What would it even be? 

        “It is an Eikon.  It should not be tired of anything.  It should not have feelings on the matter.”

        “Should and do seem to mean something different these days,” Clive commented dryly.  He stood up and dusted his pants off.  “We have an answer we were not expecting.  Perhaps we can leave the rest for later.  I feel much better knowing the Phoenix was behind this rather than Ultima or even myself.”  He offered a hand to Joshua.  “Perhaps we are not prepared for the why and how of it.”    Joshua took his hand and pulled himself up.

        “I do not look forward to the looks I expect I will receive when we inform the others.”  Clive chuckled warmly, knowing that feeling well.  The singular thing he disliked about their hideaway was the new arrivals looking at him as some kind of legend when the others inevitably told them the rumors.  It was quite uncomfortable and nothing he ever said stopped those rumors.

        With a hand on Joshua’s shoulder he turned them toward the entrance, happy to leave the Apodytery behind.  A few steps up the ramp a tingling sensation wisped across the back of his neck.  It was the same sensation he always got when someone was watching from the shadows.  Looking back carefully he found no one else in the room yet the feeling persisted.  He took half a step backward resigning himself to ignore it before something on the ground in front of him caught his eye.  A single Phoenix feather lay in plain view.  It looked identical to the one he had carried for years after Drake’s Head, the single proof he had that his brother lived.  Joshua called his name then and without a second thought he tucked it into his tunic to consider later.

Chapter Text

        “The Dominants have returned,” a voice said as soon as the Apodytery door slammed closed.  Clive jumped sideways and nearly drew his sword in surprise before seeing Tyler and Wade waiting for them on either side of the door.

        “What…”  Mouth hanging open in half-formed question, he stared dumbly at them both.

        “We thought you might come down here for some clarity,” Wade explained.  “The Phoenix shouldn’t go through without an honor guard and we figured a second Dominant deserves no less.”  That reasoning didn’t really make a lot of sense to Clive.  Although now that he thought about it maybe it was a good thing someone had thought to at least keep an eye out for their return.  If something had gone wrong, or more wrong, none would have known where they disappeared to.  He hadn’t really considered that when they entered without telling anyone.

        “Thank you.  I think.”  Clive shuffled awkwardly.  An honor guard for him felt so…wrong.  No matter what he was now, he was still a Shield himself at heart.  He heard Joshua snicker beside him but ignored it.

        “May I ask if you found your answers, my lords?” Tyler asked politely.  “You were in there some few hours.”

        “Were we?”  Clive looked at Joshua.  It certainly had not felt that long.  Joshua only gave him an exasperated huff that was easy to read.

        Of course we were.  That would be how this day went, Clive supposed.

        “Is all well?”  Clive offered Tyler a reassuring glance.

        “Yes, we’re fine.  It did not feel so long to us.  You needn’t have waited all that time, not when you were given the day to yourselves.  We have both been down into the depths before.”

        “We did need to stand guard,” Wade insisted.

        “I should think it time well spent if you found what you were seeking,” Tyler agreed.  Recognizing he would not talk them out of it, Clive just nodded as Joshua explained.

        “We found something at the least.  It seems to have been the Phoenix itself who returned us to this point.  Why or how we are as yet uncertain.”  The Shields looked at one another awkwardly.

        “Then…you did it, Your Highness?” Tyler asked.

        “No.  We told you of my death facing Ultima, did we not?”  They nodded slowly.  “The last thing I did was give my Eikon to Clive completely.  It was while in Clive’s care that the Phoenix did what it did.”  Two sets of wide eyes moved from Joshua to Clive before he could clarify.  “Independently, insofar as we can tell.  Which I maintain should be impossible.”

        “Did the Phoenix tell you this?” Wade asked uncertainly. 

        “In a way, yes.  It showed us much I did not think it capable of showing.  Something happened when Clive killed Ultima that I do not understand.”

        “Do not lay this on me, Joshua.  You saw what happened on Origin at the end.  There was little left of me by the time this happened.”  Joshua narrowed his eyes at him with suspicion.

        “I still believe you are somehow key to this mystery.” 

        “If you say so…” Clive muttered contrarily.  Footsteps rushing down the stairs towards them stopped the conversation, and Clive was not complaining for a distraction.  Although he did take issue with the nature of the distraction when Jill jumped down the last three stairs and skidded to a halt in front of him.  He already had a sinking feeling he knew what was coming.  He’d only seen this look of hatred, anger, fear, and determination on her face once before.

        “Thank the Founder, here you are.”

        “What’s wrong, Jill?”

        “It’s them, Clive.  They’ll be in Rosalith by nightfall.”

        “Dammit,” he cursed under his breath.  They had been complacent after their victory here. 

        “Who’ll be in Rosalith?” Wade asked. 

        “The Ironblood.”  Jill spat the answer Clive had expected.  “They were sighted by Port Isolde.  We have to do something.”

        “And we will,” Clive reassured her.  “I do not know what yet, but we will.  I promise.” 

        “How do you intend to cover the distance?” Tyler interjected.  “None could travel so far so quickly.”

        “That is not entirely true,” Joshua commented quietly, eyeing them all.

        “That is a terrible idea, Brother, and you know it.  Not after what happened in the Apodytery.”

        “You went down there again?” Jill protested then shook her head.  “No, not important right now.  Tell me later.  Joshua and I can fly.  We can take care of the Ironblood ourselves.”  Clive stepped in close to her and pulled her away a couple steps to speak quietly.

        “Are you sure you want to do this?  You do not have to.  I will gladly take this burden if you allow it.  You need not face them again.”  Her eyes narrowed sharply.

        “Do not think to leave me behind, Clive Rosfield,” she hissed.  “Together, we said.  Or did you think I meant only against Ultima?  You of all people know why I must do this.”

        “I do,” he said softly.  He took her hand and held it in both of his.  “But because of that, you must know why I wish to take this burden from you.”

        “And what happened to our struggle?  I thought you finished with pushing us all away to bear our burdens alone.”  The corner of his mouth twitched faintly, just shy of a smirk.

        “You misunderstand, my lady.  I know how they trapped you.  I know they gave you no alternative but become their tool.  What I offer you is the knowledge everyone will be safe without your intervention.  They cannot use those you love against you.  Not this time.  Not with me standing in their path.”  He held her gaze with both determination and love hoping she could see it.  “You will never be their monster again but it pains me to think you in the same position of being forced to fight to protect innocents.  You do have a choice this time.”  Her eyes softened at his words, realization setting in, and he mentally sighed with relief.  That was all he wanted.  He wouldn’t be more proud of her if she chose to fight with them as long as she understood she didn’t have to.

        “That does not make it the right choice,” she whispered softly.  Clive smiled and squeezed her hand once before turning around.

        “It seems we’ve a plan of action, then,” Joshua commented and strode toward the stairs.

        “Joshua, this is—”  Joshua held up a hand to stop him then looked over his shoulder.

        “Do not waste your breath, Brother.”

        “You are already exhausted from the Apodytery.”

        “And when we return to Rosalith I expect I will sleep for a week to recover.  Believe it or not, priming is much easier without a god’s prison in my chest.  I will be fine.  Besides, I do not believe Shiva the best suited for carrying you.”  Clive grumbled to himself.  He rarely had an opinion on Ifrit’s lack of wings but every once in a while he sorely missed them.  Days like today, knowing he could make this trip with no ill effects, he desperately wished he had wings of his own.

        “Then at least allow us to use Ifrit Risen.  It will ease your burden.”

        “Absolutely not.  If we are to have a chance at this we need you.  Not Ifrit, you.  You alone could hope to give us the edge we are to need.”  Clive sighed in frustration.  It would not matter how he felt about it.  If Joshua did not agree, he could do nothing.

        “The one time I need the Phoenix back,” he mumbled.  Joshua laughed.

        “The last time I gave you the Phoenix you sent us back in time.  I do not wish to know what you would do with it again.” 

        “I did no such thing!”

        “So it was you after all?” Jill asked too sweetly, grin mirroring Joshua’s.

        “No, it was the Phoenix.  Why does everyone so readily believe I am behind this?”

        “Well—”

        “No, stop.  Forget I said anything.”  Clive held a palm up toward both of them.  “We have work to do.”  He strode toward the stairs, leaving the entire conversation behind him.  Along with the giggling.

        “Too true,” Joshua said falling in on his left.

        “We will discuss this later,” Jill agreed falling in on his right.

        Behind them stood a pair of Shields, staring at them in utter disbelief at the conversation they had just been privy to.  Wade blinked at their backs as they climbed the stairs out of the Hall.  Should they follow?  That odd sensation of trying to find his rightful place returned.  They had spoken like they’d forgotten he and Tyler were even there.  So maybe they had?  Maybe they shouldn’t follow then?  He looked to Tyler for some kind of indication or lead but he just shook his head slightly.  Guess they really were in new territory if Tyler didn’t even know what protocol was now.

        “Wade!  Tyler!  Are you coming?”  The lord marquess shouted down the stairs for them.  Wade jumped as if given a prod from a stick and half ran to join them, Tyler only a step behind.  Just up the stairs the trio had stopped to wait for them.

        Right.  Okay.  Not forgotten then. 

        “Sorry ‘bout that,” Wade murmured when they caught up and they all started walking together.

        “My lords.  My lady.  A question, if I may.”  The lord marquess peaked over his shoulder at Tyler’s question.

        “By all means.”

        “Did you not know of this attack?  You have known everything else.”

        “Of, yes,” his highness answered.  “We have gone beyond our direct knowledge now.  Clive and I were already gone before the Iron Kingdom attacked.”

        “And it is surprisingly difficult to remember a date when the world is crumbling around you,” Lady Jill finished.

        “I had assumed this something orchestrated by our mother after the fall, not before.”  His highness’ fist clenched in what Wade could only assume was frustration.

        “We do not know this her doing, Brother.”

        “Who else would it be?” he grumbled.

        Wade had thought Rosaria saved already by their actions the other night.  And twice over by arresting the duchess.  Now it stood on the brink once again.  If Rosalith were taken, there were not enough Shields here to retake the capitol.  He looked toward the seemingly children he was following, though he knew they were anything but.  Lady Jill and his highness quickly and easily fell onto either side of the lord marquess as if they belonged there, as if they had prepared for battle like this a hundred times over.  Now that he thought about it, they probably had.  They deferred to him so easily, and he carried the stature of a leader himself, young though he looked.  As soon as they entered the courtyard it was pure chaos from Shields running this way and that in preparation of something.  The Archduke must have let it be known what was happening. 

        Those who passed close to their group stopped in their tracks to stare at the Dominants passing through, though only a few other Shields knew all three of them were such.  They did not stop because of titles or Eikons; Wade could tell by their awed expressions.  They stopped because the sheer presence of these three commanded respect without them even trying.  In fact they paid little attention to the chaos around them save to step around someone or allow others to pass as they discussed something Wade wasn’t listening to.  He was far more interested in the magnetic draw they exuded that not even the puppy running after them could lessen.  There was…something.  Something he couldn’t quite put into words.  The closest word he could think of was legend.  Walking, talking legends.  Except no one else knew of their deeds or their circumstances.  Whatever it was, though, Wade was in absolute awe of it as well.

        They pushed on through the courtyard and climbed toward the war room where the Archduke most likely would be found, the three still oblivious to the impact they had created outside.  As predicted the Archduke stood over the table studying the map alongside the Lord Commander with such intensity he might find the secrets of the universe buried there.

        Oh, we might already know that actually, Wade thought with no little trepidation.

        “What do we know?” the lord marquess asked bluntly as he approached the table.  Wade wondered if he realized how much he took charge of the room even with the Archduke in front of him.  The Archduke, however, didn’t so much as blink at it before answering.

        “The western watchtower near Port Isolde spotted three ships approaching our shores several hours ago.  They sail north to an unknown destination.”

        “Rosalith,” Lady Jill answered.  “It must be.”

        “I had expected them later, if they appeared at all,” his highness said thoughtfully.

        “Foolish complacency on our part,” the lord marquess agreed.

        “What can you tell us of this attack, Jill?” the Archduke asked.

        “Very little I’m afraid.  I remember it was dark when I realized something was wrong.  I remember screaming, clanging steel, and a great many fires.  They came into the castle as if completely unopposed.  I stood little chance against them.”  The last part she spit out with a venom Wade had not known her capable of.  The lord marquess found her hand without looking and she seemed to settle a bit.  The Lord Commander cleared his throat, ignoring her tone.

        “With our delay here it will be impossible to return in time to defend the capitol.  Even were we to leave our prisoners behind we would not make it.  I do not believe the guard remaining in the city will be enough to fend them off for long.  We may have saved Rosaria from utter ruin here but I fear we may lose this war.”

        “We will not,” his highness declared with an absolute authority to match his brother.  “Long has it  been since the Phoenix has graced the skies of Rosaria.”  He looked to the lord marquess and then to Lady Jill.  “I can get us there.  They will not succeed in the face of three Dominants.”

            “You intend to prime, then fly all the way to the capitol while carrying two people?” the Lord Commander protested with apprehension which bordered on doubt.  His highness shrugged.  Shrugged!

        “I have done it before.”  The Lord Commander crossed his arms in a silent command for clarification.  “Clive and I fought Bahamut at Twinside when Ultima manipulated him into attacking the city.  Afterward I carried Clive, Jill, Dion, and Torgal back to their hideaway in the Bennumere.  I can get us there.  I assure you.  And I have no fear of the Iron Kingdom.”

        “Nor I,” the lord marquess agreed.

        “They will not harm another Rosarian so long as I live,” Lady Jill half growled.

        The Archduke studied them while mulling it over.  Wade figured it was a tough spot to be in.  There were only three of them against an army.  Hadn’t they said the other night they felt better with six?  They knew nothing of what was to come this time.  They were all in new territory yet they thought nothing of standing alone.  How could this be so different for them?  Unless it was the circumstances.  If they caught them early enough there would be little collateral damage and no one specific they must protect.  Also no fear of a rampaging Eikon, at least in theory.  Had they been holding back so much that night?  That was a terrifying thought. 

        Wade felt…conflicted.  They were Dominants.  They regularly did things others could only dream of, and the lord marquess apparently more so than the others.  Surely they would not need help, especially if they really had been holding back.  But the thought wouldn’t leave.  He wanted to help them, wanted to help protect Rosalith.  He didn’t want to leave everything to them just because they were skilled and powerful.  Except he was just an ordinary Shield, and a young one at that.

        The Archduke’s gaze on his sons and his ward ran the gambit from determined to pained and stoic to afraid.  Finally he settled on something akin to sadness and sank heavily into a chair, leaning on his knees and studying his clasped hands before him.

        “Jill.  What happens when they reach the city?” he asked softly without looking up. 

        “They kill the men.  Capture any women and children they find.  I do not know how many died by their hand but there were two hundred of us taken to Mount Drustanus.  Once there they sacrificed the Bearers to their Mother and used others as a means to force me to fight for them.”  Lady Jill’s voice was ice cold, colder than the ice she wielded.  It held little emotion and Wade suspected it was being held back by a tight reign.  The Archduke ran a hand over his face with a loud exhale.

        “And so I am forced to choose between my family and my people.”

        “No, you are not.”  Lady Jill knelt down in front of the Archduke, pulling his attention to her with a warmth that should have been impossible after her emotionless report.  “I never knew how alike you and your sons can be, never wanting to foist a problem upon another.  Look at us.  Do you truly believe we would allow this to happen?  Forgive me but I am not asking permission.  If I can save even some of those I saw beside me on those damnable ships then it is worth it.  That is my choice, not something anyone could force upon me.”

        “I cannot ask this of you.  Of any of you.  To fight a battle with no knowledge against overwhelming odds.”

        “You ask nothing of us,” his highness stated firmly.  “We did not return here to prevent one massacre only to allow another to transpire.”  The lord marquess hummed an agreement.

        “And with some luck we need not win ourselves.  We need only buy time for those still there to mount a defense.”  The Archduke looked at them all, taking in what they said, and nodded slowly.  Mournfully.

        “Then know that it sickens me that this is our only recourse.  You cannot fault me for wishing to protect you.”  With one final steeling breath he stood swiftly, demeanor changing in an instant.  “If this is what you are to do, then see it done.  I leave it in your hands.  Do not worry for the politics of the realms.  I will see to it.  If they uncover we’ve three Dominants so be it.  I will not hide behind their beliefs when the safety of our people is on the line.  Although I am fully aware Ifrit will be a headache to address.”

        “I will refrain from priming myself if possible,” the lord marquess announced.  “That should make things easier.  I will only bring Ifrit forth in the most dire need.  Luckily I have a full arsenal I intend to make use of this time.”

        “I trust your judgement, Clive.”  The Archduke smirked.  “But I’ve a suspicion I ought consider your Eikon anyway to be safe.”  The lord marquess started to protest but said nothing.  “When you drive them back, return to Rosalith.  We will meet you there.”  The three nodded in affirmation and then the lord marquess knelt down to his hound.

        “Torgal, I need you to stay here and keep Father safe.  Can you do that?”  Strangely the pup yapped as if in affirmation.  Even more strangely he went straight to the Archduke’s side and sat down.  He looked down at the hound with a grateful look.

        “Normally I would say something about the blessing of the crystals,” he said, turning his attention back, “but that seems the wrong thing to say now.”

        “So good luck,” The Lord Commander said simply in his stead.  “You’re going to need it.”  The Archduke nodded in agreement and motioned the trio towards the door.

        “Now, allow me to escort you out.  The men should know the Phoenix is about to take flight.”  His highness looked away quickly, bristling at the suggestion.  “Like it or not, Joshua, most have never witnessed the likes of what is about to happen.  They may well fear the sudden appearance of an Eikon.  It is a miracle only a few were outside the other night and we’ve been able to swear them to silence.”

        “I dislike it, true, but I feel it better I prime higher…”

        Their continued conversation faded into murmurings.  For reasons he couldn’t quite understand Wade felt frozen to his spot.  It was not fear which kept him there.  He was still unsettled, fighting himself to know his place and to keep his peace.  They’d fought Dominants and Eikons and won.  They’d fought a god and won.  They didn’t need him.  They didn’t need help.  He repeated it over and over in his head.  They didn’t need help.  Rosaria would be saved without him or the other Shields needing to be there.  Wait until you know what needs doing before acting.  Surely if he thought this through better he would understand.  His highness had his First Shield and he was more than capable of protecting Lady Jill as well.  If they needed just one more axe for such a mission they would ask.  But…  What could one more axe even do in the face of all the power just those three could command?  And…  Was that even the point?

        “Allow me to accompany you!” he shouted.

        His eyes went wide the instant he realized what he’d done.  He’d said it completely without thought.  Quiet.  He’d just had to keep quiet and wait.  Was that truly so difficult?  He dragged his eyes up to the others in the room, gulping down the fear creeping up his throat.  Tyler looked at the ceiling in a silent prayer, probably for his idiot friend.  The Lord Commander and Archduke stared, but were too well trained to show what they were thinking.  Meanwhile his highness was only surprised and the lord marquess and Lady Jill showed obvious amusement for reasons he could not fathom.  He needed to do something quickly to fix this.  By the flames he had no idea what though.

        “I…”  Words caught in his throat.  Of the many critiques Tyler gave him, the single most common was that he was too impulsive.  This was just one of the many examples of his enthusiasm getting in the way.  Who knew what kind of problems this outburst would create.  He knelt down on one knee hoping the deference might help.  “I know I cannot hope to keep up or to be of much use.  But I-I cannot wait to be called upon knowing what you face.  I joined the Shields because the Phoenix saved my life.  The lord marquess did the same just days ago and he used Lady Jill’s power to do it.  Please allow me to do something in light of those gifts.”  He studied the ground and dared not look up. 

        “What do you think, Joshua?  You’ll be doing the heavy lifting.”  Wade held his breath while the Phoenix hummed to himself in thought.

        “I should think I carried more from Twinside.  It should not be a problem.  I draw the line at one extra out of caution, however.”  He jerked his head up to stare at them dumbfounded.  They were serious about this?  No one was trying to call him out on his insubordination?  They were not offering some alternate role out of sympathy? 

        “Good,” the lord marquess announced.  He walked back over to Wade and offered a hand.  “Founder knows we could use the help.”  He took the offered hand and stood, still stunned to silence.  “Sir Tyler, Lord Commander, keep an eye on things if you would.  Father, we shall see you at home.  Sir Wade?  I do hope you’ve not a fear of heights.”  No one objected or even questioned their acceptance of him.  They just filed out of the room.  The only glance was from Tyler, a cocked eyebrow and a smirk that Wade was certain was a look of pity.

        Wade was the last one out of the room, needing a deep breath to calm himself from what had just happened.  It was the strangest feeling.  This felt right.  Like he had made the correct choice, not that he could honestly say that had been a choice at all.  Protecting the Rosfields and Rosaria alike had been his top priority since the day he’d joined the Shields of the Flame.  It was his genuine honor to do his duty.  But something had shifted within him since last night, something he couldn’t quite explain just yet.  That was still his priority, of that there was no question.  But now it felt…bigger than what he thought.  Or something. 

        Shaking his head from the complicated thought he followed the others out, preparing himself for what was to come.  It was obvious this was unheard of for any other Shield.  Their lack of hesitation honored him, the question only of the logistics honored him even further.  They did not question that he could offer only an axe and enthusiasm.  Did they know something he didn’t?  Probably.  The way they looked at him, though.  The Phoenix, Shiva, a legend meant to house a god…  And they looked at him as an equal.  He’d never felt not equal really aside from the accepted hierarchy of society but they were leagues above him in ability.  They were, well, they were legends.  Legends of another time.  So why did it feel like fighting alongside them was exactly where he was meant to be?

Chapter Text

        When Elwin understood the seriousness of what they had avoided here at Phoenix Gate, he swore to never take his family for granted again.  When he understood the seriousness of his wife’s outlook on the duchy, he swore to protect his people come what may.  He had not considered that those two vows would most likely clash one day and he certainly did not expect them to do so this soon.  Stepping out into the courtyard with Rodney he struggled to keep his expression neutral.  Knowing his sons and Jill and Sir Wade were above them on the roof of the keep preparing to rush into battle for the sake of them all was more than he could bear.  Once again the fate of Rosaria fell to a mere four, and this time they could only pray help would arrive.  Once again he was powerless to help his sons.  After his conversation with Jill, he had an inkling of how she must have felt when she gave up Shiva.  Where they went he could not follow, no matter how much he wished to. 

        That was not his place, though, and he knew it.  He was needed here.  The Archduke was needed here.  The Shields rushing to and fro reminded him of that.  The Dominants of Rosaria could not do their duty if Elwin and the Shields did not do theirs.  He knew the Shields must be worried.  They all had family in Rosalith and the surrounding areas that they could not hope to protect themselves.  That much he could help alleviate to some extent.

        “Shields!  Attention!”  Rodney stood tall in the center of the courtyard and bellowed the words to all corners.  “The Archduke would have words with you all!”  Shields assembled quickly at his call.  Some were still carrying supplies or chocobo tack as they lined up to hear the address.  Elwin stepped forward to replace Rodney, looking at each Shield as he spoke honestly.

        “My friends.  By now you have heard of the threat approaching Rosalith.  The Iron Kingdom believes us weak.  They believe us an easy conquest in their crusade.  The truth is they are correct with so many of us so far away and those who are left so woefully unprepared for an attack none saw coming.”  The men around him shifted uncomfortably, gazes falling to the ground as they prepared themselves for the worst.  “But do not fear for our fair city and our people for today we shall witness something that has not been seen in decades.  The Phoenix shall grace the skies of Rosaria to go where we cannot!  He along with his First Shield will do all in their power to stop this threat before it reaches the capitol.  And when they are victorious, it will be our job to undertake the aftermath.  So make ready!  Today the Shields of the Flame march to support the Phoenix!”

        As if on cue a burst of fire rose to the heavens from high atop the keep.  When they faded, the Phoenix soared high above them all.  A chorus of cheers rang out from the Shields.  Excitement to see the Phoenix, gratitude their families would be saved, eagerness to do their duty, it all swirled into one cacophony around him.  Joshua may indeed dislike being the center of such attention, but Elwin had to wonder if that was because he did not truly understand the affect he had on the people.  Where once he was surrounded by worried and frantic soldiers, he now saw hope and renewed determination.  And all it took was a glimpse of their beloved Eikon.  The Phoenix screeched a deafening cry to the sky, rallying them further, and sailed out away from Phoenix Gate.  Elwin brought his fists to his chest in salute. 

        “Godspeed,” he murmured.  Torgal, still at his heel, whined in agreement.  Without doubt, those four must be the bravest people he had ever known.  How could they look at this situation and so readily jump into such danger?  It wasn’t as if Elwin had always played it safe.  He’d been something of a daredevil in his younger days, really, and he was always prepared to do what needed to be done.  But this seemed beyond the pale for anyone.  They had no fear nor hesitation.  Perhaps that was what a life of chaos and calls to action could do to a man. 

        “They walk their own path now, Elwin,” Rodney said quietly beside him.  While he didn’t take his eyes off the fading light of the Phoenix on the horizon he did note that the Shields were moving once again with renewed vigor.

        “I think not, Rodney.  They always did walk their own paths.  They were just too young to realize it a week ago.”  Squeezing his eyes closed for a moment to compose himself he turned his attention to his Lord Commander.  “Come.  There is much to do.”  They marched back into the keep and away from the noise.

        “I am surprised you did not credit Jill with going as well.” 

        “Would that I could have.  I only mentioned Clive because all know where Joshua goes, Clive follows.  If we have need, I will tell the world of our additional Dominants and Founder knows I am more concerned with the safeguarding of our people than politics at the moment.  Yet…”  Elwin slowed to a halt in an empty hall, mind reeling as it had been since he got the news of the Iron Kingdom. 

        “Yet?”

        “There is something else at play here.  I can feel it.  Events are moving too quickly and with too much precision.  I do not know whose hand is behind the play but I know there is one there.  Until I know, I do not wish to make rash decisions without cause.”

        “You think it this fiend your sons spoke of?  Ultima?”  Elwin exhaled slowly. 

        “Perhaps.  Though I believe this particular fiend may be of more worldly origin.”  There was something he was not seeing.  He was certain of it.  And he did have a small, creeping suspicion.  If he was right, this would only be the beginning.

        Once in the air Clive’s thoughts turned to the upcoming battle, as much as he would prefer to focus on the feeling of flying over Rosaria at the moment.  Everything about this encounter was a complete unknown.  That by itself would be tricky.  But they had all done crazier things, right?  Even Wade had planned to take on the main encampment of the Black Shields himself until Clive and Jill showed up.  He may not know it now, but yes, he had indeed pulled similarly crazy plans out of thin air.  And if they did allow a few through their nonexistent defense to Rosalith, the city guard knew of their presence now.  They would be prepared.  It would work out in the end.

        “We’ve no way of knowing what we may face when we arrive,” he said over the wind whipping around them.  “Be on the lookout for overly powerful forces, however.”

        “How do you mean?” Jill asked.  He looked at her as if stating the obvious.  Then remembered he’d forgotten to mention it.

        “Oh, of course.  I forgot to tell you.  Remember Carrot?”  He felt more than heard Joshua laughing beneath him.  Jill pursed her lips in thought.

        “Was that the coeurl, the slime monster, or the morbol?”

        “Morbol.  Nigel needed a vine from it, remember?” 

        “Oh, right!”  She snapped her fingers with the memory.  “The bizarre morbol Nektar named.  Wait, why are we speaking of Carrot?”

        “The morbol in Stillwind wasn’t the one it was supposed to be,” he answer flatly.

        “You knew that morbol would be there!” Wade cried as if only now realizing the implications that Clive had known much about that day.  Clive shrugged innocently.  “You could have warned us!”

        “I did know.  But I knew we could handle it.  Though that was a much tougher morbol than it should have been.  So, congratulations on slaying something our own outlaws avoided?”  Wade could only stare in shock.

        “You mean to say Carrot was in Stillwind?” Jill asked, getting back on topic.  He nodded.

        “Or one like it, yes.  I fear there could be more powerful adversaries than we should see in places we least expect them.  Our only speculation is that it had something to do with the ambient aether of our arrival.  I hope it is limited to creatures.”

        “Who names a morbol Carrot,” Wade commented quietly.

        “A moogle who believed himself to have a sense of humor,” Joshua groused.  Wade yelped and jumped near to standing.

        “Ah!  Your highness!  I was not aware you could speak like this!”  Joshua laughed again, a tremor reverberating through the Phoenix.

        “Sir Wade, with my brother here, there are a great many things more strange than this that you should prepare yourself for.” 

        “What did I do?” Clive protested.

        “I have little doubt something will yet happen.”  Jill covered his hand with her own gently.

        “And otherwise, not all are prepared to see you when you hold nothing back.”  Her eyes drifted slightly toward Wade, passing a hint. 

        “You make it sound as though I seek out trouble,” he mumbled.  She had a point, though.  Wade had barely even glanced his way when they fought the Black Shields together, taking everything in stride as always.  With that knowledge, Clive had thought little of how it might look to see so many abilities from one person.  Now that he actually looked, Wade did seem quite uncomfortable.  “Nervous, Wade?”  The Shield looked away warily, trying not to look too far from the Phoenix’s feathers.

        “I suppose so, my lord.  Things happened quickly and I admit my plea to aid you was not thought through at all in that moment.”

        “We will drive them back.  Have no fear of that.”

        “Oh, the Iron Kingdom does not worry me,” Wade confessed, much to Clive’s surprise.  Even Jill turned to look at him with furrowed brow.  “I know they will not touch Rosalith with you standing in their way.”  Jill moved a little closer after a confused glance at Clive.

        “Then what does worry you?” she asked.  Wade looked between them and then out over the Phoenix’s wings for the first time.  He paled at the sight and immediately resumed his studies of the feathers beneath him instead.

        “Two days ago I was assigned to the First Shield for his first command.  Since then I have nearly been killed by a morbol that was apparently bigger than it should have been, defended a keep against traitors and invaders, witnessed not one but three Eikons, assisted in arresting the duchess, and learned that nothing of the world I thought I knew was true.  And now I fly to battle on the back of the Phoenix, the very Dominant I am sworn to guard, to prevent the capitol falling.  All because I could not simply wait until I was needed.”  The flow of words left him in a rush that he barely even breathed through.  “I do not regret anything that has transpired and would choose the same a hundred times over.  I just…  It’s been a long week.”  There seemed more he wanted to say but Clive didn’t mention it.  It definitely had been a long week.

        “With any luck we will all have time to adjust after this is over,” he said instead. 

        “And then the real work can begin.”

Some Time Later…

        They would not reach Rosalith by nightfall.  They all knew it even as they left Phoenix Gate.  No one spoke a word of complaint nor objection.  There was a job to do and each Shield that followed their Archduke would see it done no matter what.  The Phoenix was protecting their families in their stead; it was the least they could demand of themselves, though many desired more.  An air of foreboding seriousness followed the column as they marched down the road as quickly as they could manage.  Tyler hadn’t seen them this serious in many years.  He, however, felt oddly calm.  His newfound knowledge of future events had either completely snapped his reactionary ability or kept faith that no matter what happened now it would not be as bad as it could have been.  He sincerely hoped it was the latter.  If nothing else he was certain three Eikons could handle it if worse came to worst.  Wade, on the other hand, he would admit some worry for.

        Tyler would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of doing exactly the same thing Wade had done.  None of them liked the idea of sending three so important people into battle alone.  The difference, however, was that Tyler knew he would only be in the way.  He was sworn to guard the ducal line, not just the Phoenix and so his rightful place would be with the Archduke.  Wade just couldn’t wait.  The man had always been impulsive but this…  Tyler could only pray to the Founder that he would live through this.  Maybe if they were lucky it would temper that impulsive streak of his. 

        Without him, the burden of guarding their prisoners fell to Tyler alone.  With what he knew, it made sense for the Lord Commander to entrust that detail to him.  Ten other Shields surrounded the prisoners while Tyler took command of them.  He had selected those ten himself, men he trusted and he had no fear of turning a soft eye on the former duchess in particular.  Which was good given how vocal she had already been.  She was strangely quiet at first but soon threw objections, insults, and downright slurs at any Shield she thought might hear.  All while attempting to avoid the chocobo excrement from walking behind the supply wagons.  Tyler was suddenly glad to have been raised in a noble house, minor though it was.  He needed every bit of that training to keep a calm and collected outlook without glaring at her every five seconds and then laughing at her ridiculous attempts to stay clean the rest of the time.  This was the woman who betrayed them all and, by the lord marquess’ account, turned the Shields into the twisted tool of a tyrant.  Tyler was slow to anger but that alone made his blood boil.  Part of him wished they had left them all behind under guard of the keep staff until this was over, but the Archduke insisted they should be brought along now.

        “Sir Tyler.”  He turned towards the sound of his name.  Clarence stood close beside him, eyes darting around towards the trees surrounding them. 

        “Yes?”  Already Tyler was wary.  Clarence was positioned near the rear of their guard.  He would not leave that gap without good reason.  He was also one of the few who knew the rest of what happened their first night at Phoenix Gate and therefore knew exactly how vulnerable they truly were with all three Dominants gone.

        “Been watchin’ the prisoners, sir.  They’re gettin’ a bit shifty if ya ask me.  Lookin’ ‘round like they expect somethin’ t’appen.  I’d bet me last gil those dogs know somethin’ they en’t tellin’.”  Shifty prisoners was not good.

        “Best be safe, then.  I’ll cover your position.  Go tell the Lord Comma—”

        A sudden blast of blue aetheric fire exploded the supply wagon in front of them and set the wood alight.

        “Spoke too late,” Clarence grumbled loudly beside him, jerking his sword from its sheathe.  They both knew what was about to happen.

        “Form a ring around the prisoners!” Tyler shouted as soon as he found his voice.  Eyes still stinging from the heat of the blast he searched the woods around them for the attack he knew beyond doubt was coming.  This was the best possible place to lay an ambush.  The road narrowed just in front of them, flanked on either side by a steep hill and a cliff.  It was simple to cut them off and that was exactly what they had done.  “Clarence.  Keep an eye on them.  If any one of them twitches, run them through.”

        “Lady included?”

        “The former duchess included.”  Tyler saw the hint of a grin as Clarence turned from the trees and toward the prisoners to keep watch.

        This was too well planned.  There must have been Sanbrequois reinforcements somewhere in the area and they must be going after the prisoners.  They were the back of the line; there was no other reason to cut them off like this.  Nine Sanbrequois soldiers marched under guard, most of which arrived with Annabella.  If there was one piece of good news, the other four were still injured from their original encounter with Phoenix fire.  They could walk, but they would not fight back easily.  With only eleven Shields counting Tyler, though, the odds were not in their favor without knowing how many ambushers there were hiding out there. 

        There was one thing it seemed could always be counted on when dealing with Sanbreque: that glaringly obvious silver armor they insisted on shining to gleaming.  It had to be the single most impractical thing they ever did yet they took such pride in it.  On a battlefield it had its uses.  In the Rosarian woods, less so.  Tyler spotted them moving in the trees only seconds after having Clarence watch the prisoners.  So far he counted two but there had to be more.  If he were conducting this operation, they would be surrounded.  And so that was the assumption he would make.  The only thing he didn’t know was how they expected to fight.  The Shields could not leave their prisoners, a fact that made them painfully easy targets.

        That question was answered when some battle cry rose from the shadows.  The knights were upon them within seconds.  At least they hadn’t shot them down with arrows.  The two in front of Tyler were easy enough considering the predicament, but there were indeed others.  He could hear the clanging steel all around them as the Shields desperately tried to keep their prisoners.  Annabella screamed in the middle of the sudden fighting, though Tyler couldn’t take the time to see to her with two Sanbrequois knights vying for his immediate attention.  He sliced across one knight and narrowly dodged the second all the while knowing there was no way the prisoners they’d captured would be held back for long.  It was only a matter of time before they fell upon the Shields as well.  Tyler found out personally when they engaged when something metallic slammed into the side of his head with enough force to topple him to the ground.

        Dazed and barely clinging to consciousness, he could hardly tell which way was up for a long moment.  His ears rang from the impact, drowning out the sounds of fighting he knew still raged around him.  Looking around despite the double vision it was plain to see the guard never had a chance.  While there had only been two within his sight there were apparently several more elsewhere, and that wasn’t counting the prisoners themselves.  He wrenched himself up onto one arm, fighting the urge to lose the contents of his stomach, in time to see the last of the guard fall.

        As a young lad, his grandfather liked to tell him a story.  The day Rosaria abandoned Drake’s Breath was neither orderly nor calm.  The last days of their struggle on that island were some of the bloodiest days in Rosarian history ending in a mad dash not to be left behind as the ships departed.  In that chaos, his grandfather’s brother was hit by arrows in both knee and shoulder and was nearly crushed by the stampede he’d been part of.  The way his grandfather told the story, the moment he realized his brother was missing, everything around him halted to barely moving.  He looked at his brother and then back at the boat trying to decide what to do.  The only thing moving normally was him until he grabbed his brother’s arms and dragged him up the gangplank, the last men on the last ship to escape the Mothercrystal.

        “Tyler, my boy,” he could hear his grandfather say as clearly as if he stood behind him, “a day may come when you have to make a split second decision.  When the world slows around you and the life of something you cherish hangs in the balance, trust your instinct.  It’ll save more than your life.”  His grandfather had told him that same advice many times throughout his youth, not that he listened.  Tyler had always thought the story to be a tall tale, some heroic concoction for he and his siblings to enjoy on a cold night.  Not once did he believe it happened that way.  Things don’t slow down because you will them to, that was foolish.  Today, he learned better.

        As the last Shield fell to the ambushers he saw that irritating silver armor rushing away with those captured at Phoenix Gate.  Former duchess included.  If the soldiers escaped so be it.  But her… 

        Everything around him did slow to a crawl in that moment. 

        That woman knew everything about Rosaria.  The only people worse to defect would be the Lord Commander and the Archduke himself.  That woman knew all their strengths and their weaknesses, of their new Dominants.  She knew Rosalith and its defenses and where anything could be found for good or ill.

        Wobbling with dizziness Tyler forced himself to one knee.  A crossbow lay on the ground beside the body of a fallen knight, a single bolt peaking out of his pouch.

        It was all part of her station, one she had always attended to well for appearances.  Annabella knew the habits of the city, the habits of the Archduke.  She had servants who would still answer to her within the castle itself.

        He scrambled over clumsily on hands and knees to grab the crossbow and bolt.  He pulled back the string and took aim.

        She would give it all to Sanbreque and likely more.  Every bit of it she would give away to a now hostile nation for comfort.  For station.  For importance.  She could create those twisted imitations of Shields.  She could become the tyrant they said she was.  If not here in Rosaria then surely elsewhere.  He couldn’t allow that to happen.

        His still muddled vision made aiming difficult.  That and what he was about to do.  The woman was a traitor to everything he held dear yet she was still the duchess, stripped of the title though she had been.

        When the life of something you cherish hangs in the balance, trust your instinct.

        This would not be the justice the Archduke would want.  But if it were injustice or suffer another threat upon their duchy, Tyler would take injustice gladly, no matter what the Archduke said afterward.

        He focused on that single figure, running awkwardly down the road as if she’d never run a day in her life.  No one else mattered at that moment.  Nothing around him mattered.  Just focus on that one figure.  He held his breath, prayed for forgiveness… 

        And squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Text

        “I can see them,” Joshua informed them.  “Four ships, not three.  Two have landed, one is not far behind.  The last is much smaller and entering the shallows.”  Clive couldn’t even see one just yet in the fading daylight.  The Phoenix certainly had its advantages.

        “Each ship can carry around seventy-five men, crew included.”  Jill’s voice turned low and serious.  “I expect the smaller ship is a command ship, which is good for us as it will carry no additional soldiers.”

        “We’ll need to work quickly.”  Clive’s mind was already racing with potential strategies to thin their numbers in a hurry.

        “I cannot recommend utilizing our Eikons on the shore without desperate need lest we cause irreparable damage to the surrounding area.  We may well injure those we intend to protect if we are not careful.”

        “Let’s see what we can do on our own before we resort to that then.”  Wade cleared his throat loudly to get their attention.

        “Someone has a plan to get us onto the ground, right?”

        “I’m working on it,” Clive said maybe a little too calmly.

        “Working on it?!”

        “If I land I may not rise again by the look of the numbers ahead of us.”

        “I can provide cover on that count,” Clive answered.  “You worry about the ships once we are down.”

        “Very well.”

        “I think we need not land fully,” Jill added.  “I’ll create a pathway to shore if Joshua can shield us for a moment.”  Clive nodded.  That was probably their best bet.

        “Alright.  I’ll go first and cover the rest of you.  Once you get down, do what you can to block them off from us.  Any obstacle to hinder their approach will help.”  They were swiftly approaching the shore and every second, every decision, was going to count.  “Wade, hold out your axe.”  With a confused look the Shield did so, eyes darting warily between Clive, Jill, and the shore, betraying the fear undoubtedly growing in him at the sight of how many they were up against.

        Clive had watched Jill do this for his own weapon once.  He’d forgotten about it until this talk of the Ironblood but he could probably replicate the technique.  He hoped.  Extending a hand over Wade’s axe he tugged on Ifrit’s flames.  The Eikon jumped to the forefront.  Aether gathered around Clive’s palm and he sent it towards the axe blade, imbuing the steel with the flames of the inferno.  Ifrit felt eager to help, like a chocobo impatient to run after too long in the pen, forcing Clive to pull back before the Eikon inadvertently melted the steel instead.  He knew what Joshua said about Eikons having personalities and he had always agreed.  He didn’t think his Eikon felt sentient exactly, but that was certainly different from the norm.  Pushing the thought aside he handed the weapon back to Wade, the steel pulsing with veins of red fire waiting to be released.  Wade took the axe gingerly with wide eyes.

        “Slam that toward the ground as you land,” Clive instructed him  “The shockwave will push back anyone around and provide some cover.”  Wade only nodded in reply, still staring at the blade with equal parts wonder and fear.

        “Prepare yourselves!”  Joshua dropped in altitude to skirt the surf along the beach then pulled up short to shield them with a blue barrier extended between his wings.  “Go now!”

        Jill had barely begun laying ice before Clive was on the move.  He slid partway down while looking for a large target in the crowd gathered before them.  It was not a difficult target to find.  One of their fanatics was making his way through the line of enemies.  Target in sight, he jumped from the ice, semi-primed, and pulled himself toward the fanatic with Garuda’s claws.  He flipped lightly off the man’s shoulder and slammed the full might of wind down upon those nearby, sucking them into a deadly tornado.  Deciding that was not enough cover just yet he brought Ramuh to hand.  The flash of huge levinbolts arced into the sky, guiding widespread lightning to the ground on one side of where he stood.  He heard a rumbling shockwave behind him where Wade had slammed his axe as instructed.  Just to be on the safe side before he fell back he also sent a field of ice flying to the other side of the still-spinning tornado. 

        Dropping the semi-prime Clive staggered backward panting a bit with the effort.  The muscle memory of being able to pull Eikons one after another quickly was greatly appreciated, but he may have overdone it with so many powerful abilities in such quick succession.  While his younger body may be strong enough to hold his power, it was certainly lacking in stamina.  He looked around for Jill. She had landed safely and was already dancing around her first kill.  As soon as her foe dropped she pooled her magic into great columns of ice standing between them and the enemy that they would have to navigate around.  That would definitely slow them down.  With a quick glance behind she fell back to Clive.  He then turned to look for Wade next.  And he found him standing a dozen feet away staring at him in utter shock.

        “What?”  Wade started when Clive spoke.  He blinked slowly.  Then a few more times rapidly.

        “You haven’t drawn your sword.”  It was Clive’s turn to stare.  But that stare turned into a laugh realizing he was right.  So he pulled his sword free, glancing over as one of the nearby ships exploded from Joshua’s efforts.  A great many Ironblood soldiers were pressing in on the ice in front of them, some of them rather sturdy looking. 

        “Fuck this is going to be a long night,” he commented dryly through the laugh and sank into stance.  It would not be long before they were fighting with little to no light save the flash of magic.  Yes, this was definitely going to be a long night.  “Wade, stay by me, do as I say, and we might survive this.”  The Shield hefted his axe, fear replaced by the adrenaline of battle.

        “As you command, my lord.” 

        “It looks like you have one more attack with Ifrit’s flames.”  Thankful they had bought themselves time to regroup, and for Clive to catch his breath, he semi-primed and looked to Jill.  “Shall we give him something to smash with it, my lady?”  Jill also semi-primed.  The sight of her as he knew her made his heart swell and confidence grow.  His partner was back by his side.  For all his synchronicity with his brother and for all that they loved each other, it was Jill by his side for so many years and that created a different kind of unbreakable bond.

        “An excellent idea, my flame.”

        The two met the cautiously approaching enemies with a spray of ice, far exceeding anything either of them could have produced alone.  The instant that ice stopped growing Wade rushed forward to slam his axe onto the ground once again as if they had all done this exact thing dozens of times.  Ifrit’s flames burst forth in another shockwave, catching a few who were close enough but more importantly breaking that ice up into sharp, jagged spikes everywhere.  What didn’t become points sharp enough to kill a man immediately melted to fine mist, giving them a bit of cover.

        “I think I could get used to that!” Wade hollered triumphantly with a pump of his axe into the air.  Then they all set to work.

        Had Clive not had access to every Eikon this would have been not only impossible but completely idiotic.  It was bordering on idiocy as it was.  If he allowed himself to think too much, it may well be bordering on impossible too.  Good thing he wasn’t thinking far beyond his next few swings.  Joshua had said they needed Clive’s strength, not Ifrit’s.  Little though he wanted to admit it, his brother was correct as usual.  His job was what it always was: keep those beside him safe.  He did have every Eikon and that strength he used to the fullest.

        For probably the first time in his life he relied on magic more than his sword to keep the worst of their numbers at bay.  Jill and Wade could take those who made it past him.  Diamond Dust followed by Heatwave, Flare Breath then Judgement Bolt, an Aerial Blast or Earthen Fury when they piled too densely on the ice blocking them.  Block, Rising Flame.  Thrust, Gouge.  Pile Drive on a few unlucky enough to slip around him.  It was never ending.  Any ability that could hit multiple targets without risking his allies he used.  Every once in a while Jill or Wade would call for help and Clive would pull enemies off of them with Deadly Embrace or set a Satellite to soften their targets.  Clive’s versatility may have been their greatest asset, but it was Jill’s ice that gave him the ability to use it effectively.  That was bound to end eventually, and it did when the enemy realized they could flank them from a path through the rocks near the road above. 

        He looked to Jill, hoping she could block the path, but she was locked in an even match against a fanatic.  No, it was time to try something crazy.  If Jill could it, so could he.  A little terraforming of his own.  While Clive certainly had versatility, he never had the ability to manipulate aether to such a specific degree.  He couldn’t create ice pillars or stone walls.  That, he assumed, was the tradeoff of having every Eikon: wider range with less diversity.  It had never mattered before and so he’d thought little of it.  He was a quick study, however.  He could do this.

        “Wade!  Keep them off me!”

        The Shield needed only nod an affirmation and Clive immediately set to work.  Titan could create stone from aether that they would not easily break through.  All Clive needed to do was control that aether.  Founder knows he had enough of it.  He threw wave after wave of stone towards those coming down the path.  Build it up rather than forward.  He grasped the aether he needed.  It felt like pulling stone straight from the depths.  He shouted with the effort.  Unyielding.  They would not pass this point.  They wouldn’t.  Straining harder he pushed aetheric stone inch by inch into being.  It fought him every step.  Whether that was Titan, the aether, or his own inexperience at this he did not know.  It fought him, but he managed to block the path.  There would be no more flanking attempts here.  It did cut off their only escape route short of flying, but he didn’t plan on running anyway.

        “Are you alright?” Jill called with a final thrust into the fanatic before her.  She backed up to him, eyes still focused on enemies before her and rapier outstretched to meet them.  Clive could only nod through gasping breaths.  That had been much harder than he’d expected.  “I didn’t know you could do that.”

        “Neither did I,” he managed.  One Ironblood foot soldier cut in close before either of them caught him, slicing neatly across Clive’s side.  He caught the second swing with Titan, much to the shock of the soldier, and swung in a counter that sent him careening into ice, leaving a bloody smear behind from the impact.

        “I’m sorry, my lord!” Wade shouted, running over.  “One slipped past me.”

        “It’s alright, Wade.”  The wound wasn’t serious.  Just a minor flesh wound.  He’d let it heal on its own were they not in the middle of a war zone.  But they still had a long way to go yet so he pulled the Phoenix’s flames into his hand and pressed them against the wound, flinching at the pain of it knitting back together.

        “You can heal too?” Wade asked with utter fascination.

        “Only a little and only myself.”  He moved his hand, showing unbroken skin.  “Anything more than a graze is beyond me.”  The light from the Phoenix suddenly grew brighter on the beach and shouting drew his attention back to the ice pillars where he realized the Ironblood had slowed their advance.  They were all point into the sky.

        “Jill!”  Joshua flew over calling her name, staying out of range of those already on shore.  “Jill!  I need your help.  There are more ships further out.  I’ve taken care of those nearby but these have seen me.  They approach with no degree of caution in desperate bid to reach land.  I may not take them in time.  If they succeed, we will not have the luxury of avoiding collateral damage.”  Jill looked to Clive, indecision in her eyes.  She would be leaving them at a severe disadvantage but Joshua would not be here if it were not necessary.

        “I’ll watch him, Lady Jill,” Wade called before Clive could say a word.  He pulled his axe out of a soldier’s back and grinned at her.  “Don’t you worry about him.”

        “Go,” Clive agreed.  “We’ll be fine.” 

        A hesitant nod later the air around her cooled to a dangerous degree and she floated into the sky.  An ice crystal formed around her and when it shattered Shiva loomed in its place.  Strangely, Clive had never watched her prime before.  She had actively avoided it their entire time together.  It was elegant, almost his exact opposite which he supposed made sense.  It suited Jill, he thought.  Wasting no time she darted off over the waves to pointing fingers and cries of “abomination.”  Clive was well aware that was simply what they called all Dominants.  They were more than welcome to call him that all they wished; it mattered not to him.  But he’d had enough.  It boiled an anger deep within him to watch them look after her.  Of all people, of all the Dominants in the Twins, they would not call Jill an abomination.  Not after what they did.  He leveled an intense glare at those nearby, intense enough that a couple recoiled in fear of it.  Or perhaps it was the searing flames pooling in his palm and being fanned by the flames of the Phoenix that had brought Jill back with them.  Showing no mercy he hurled that fiery magma through their ranks, burning more intensely than anything he had ever created without the direct ability of an Eikon.

        “I take it whatever they are saying is not kind,” Wade said in tone too neutral to not be an act.  Clive didn’t look over.

        “It means ‘abomination.’  Their word for Dominants.”

        Whatever Wade might have added was swallowed up by a loud crack.  Hulking elites had smashed through the ice blocks keeping them back.  A line of soldiers rushed through the gap.  At this rate their remaining cover would not last long and Clive doubted his ability to pull his own stunt again without Jill to cover his back too.  He was going to have to get very serious about this very quickly.  He grimaced a little, knowing what he was going to have to do.

        “Wade.  When I say, get back.  Take those who make it past me.  I do not wish you to get caught up in what I am about to do.”  Wade blocked a blow, swung, then looked at Clive with concern.

        “Just what are you about to do?”  Clive pulled Bahamut forward and threw several orbs out into the crowd to slow them down.  Then he felt the dragon’s wings manifest and he floated several inches above the ground, gathering aether around him.

        “Wide range attacks that do not distinguish friend from foe,” he explained quickly.  The Megaflare he was charging continued to grow stronger as he flipped through the air around an attack. 

        “Please do not tell me you have been holding back,” Wade grunted. 

        “I wouldn’t say that.”  Clive felt the spell click into place.  “Now.  Get back!” 

        Wade did as instructed and Clive immediately thrust his arms skyward, calling forth a multitude of spheres of light to crash into everyone around him.  The instant that was finished he called on Odin, bringing the lightning quick attacks only the Eikon of Darkness could possibly hope to produce.  He had never liked using Odin.  He’d mastered the Eikon’s techniques for safety more than anything and rarely used him in combat.  The Eikon itself was efficient.  Ruthlessly so.  But Clive always felt…dirty using him.  Ramuh had been gifted to him in the hopes of continuing a legacy.  Shiva was gifted from faith and love.  The Phoenix was gifted as a final testament to hopes and dreams.  Odin was forced upon him, a gift he never wanted that he had no ability to refuse.  While he hadn’t particularly wanted any of the Eikons he absorbed, each one of the others had been taken by accident.  He’d never meant to do so deliberately.  The madman forced his Eikon upon Clive like an offering to his detestable god.  Odin himself never resisted him or felt out of reach yet there was always something, something Clive had wondered might not be all in his mind, that felt out of synch.  Like they weren’t as truly compatible as others. 

        Right now, he needed that ruthless efficiency though.  He needed the constant attacks of Bahamut with the razor edge of Odin.  Both were put to very good use.  While Megaflare beat those near him into submission, he summoned a second blade alongside his own and went to work against all within his sight.  He zigged and zagged, stepped and pivoted, none facing him quite knowing where he would end up next, always swinging their sword a second too late.  His swords moved far too fast to track and the combination was as sickening to watch as it was deathly effective.  By the time Megaflare had run its course and his second sword faded, the ground before him was a bloody mess.  And he wasn’t quite finished with this pairing either.  Transforming his sword into the legendary blade of the Eikon, Clive quickly and cleanly sliced through even more enemies, enough to give others pause while he pulled Bahamut forward once again to gather an enormous, pure beam of light which decimated their numbers even further.  That display was the last shred of acceptance for most of the Ironblood rank and file.  Everywhere he could see they began throwing their weapons down and raising their hands in surrender despite everything their masters ordered of them.

        The combination of abilities proved even more effective than he had expected considering he had only theorized the move before and never executed it.  It was also something that he was entirely certain would have made him physically ill had he not seen the worst humanity had to offer while part of the Bastards.  Wade was probably more terrified of him than the enemy at the moment.  Not that Clive wanted to turn around to find out.  He didn’t want to see that fear from someone he considered a friend.  At least there were fewer enemies now.  He focused on that instead.  Unfortunately fewer enemies also meant those left would be some of the strongest.  And Clive had already expended a great deal of energy.  He’d thought he’d be alright yet as he stood there he realized just how wrong he was when his knees gave out and left him leaning heavily on his sword.  He may be resistant to aether but even he had his limits, limits that weren’t quite where they used to be.  That last combination had been reckless with those new limits.  They desperately needed a way to end this quickly or at least turn the tides.  If only he knew a better way to do that than continuing to beat his head against a figurative wall until it broke.  As it happened things did change.  And when it did all he could think was something Gav used to say.

        “When it rains it fucking pours,” he murmured.  The remaining Ironblood parted to allow someone to pass.  Clive’s lips turned up in a sneer.  Imreann, Patriarch of the Crystalline Orthodoxy.  And the reason Jill once thought herself a monster.  He was flanked by three giant bodyguards wearing armor that looked oddly familiar.  A quick flash of three brothers on a beach much like this passed across his mind.  Another notorious mark.  What had that name been?

        “I have heard tales of the sacrilegious feats of abominations such as yourself.”  Imreann spoke confidently and clearly without trace of fear.  Probably for good reason considering Clive’s state at the moment.  “Mother will permit me to applaud your valiant yet vain efforts here.  They have been truly memorable.  But it is time to offer salvation.  Please, lay down your arms and find forgiveness in the embrace of the Mother.”

        With a slight flick of his wrist two of the guards moved forward.  Clive forced his unwilling body back up onto its feet.  He knew all too well what their idea of salvation was for those who could use magic.  He glanced beside him.  Wade was already wary of their approach, hands gripping his axe tighter.  In unison the guards swung their axes towards both their heads.  Clive Shifted backward.  Wade ducked, rolled, and struck the back of the guard’s knee with his own axe.

        “You would truly prefer death upon a meaningless battlefield than the warmth of salvation?”

        “Meaningless?” Wade shouted.  He clutched his axe in shaking hands, desperately pushing back against the axe swinging toward him.  “You believe we would risk our lives for nothing?”  With a giant heave he shoved his foe backward.  Clive stared down his own opponent and settled into waiting for opportunities.  He didn’t have the strength left to go all out at this point.  Wade, however, was throwing his full force into fighting the guard before him, judging from the clashing Clive could hear but could ill-afford to watch.  Seeming content in his safety, Imreann continued speaking as if no one was fighting for their lives before him.

        “Ah, the young are always the last to understand.  You founder in a world without belief and reason.  You offer your souls to mere mortals in the hope that you will be remembered after your body has gone.”  Clive backed out of the way of a swing then leapt back toward his foe to swing into the opening.  “We have the certainty that the Mother will provide for us.  Care for us.  And when we return to her we shall become a part of something far greater than we ever were in life.”  Another strike, another counterattack.  “Can you truly claim such?”  A heavy thud landed on the ground and when he dared glance away from his opponent Clive saw the heavy frame of the guard lying motionless on the sand. 

        “I don’t need some fantastical and silent god trapped in a crystal when I have people beside me now,” Wade growled.  “I don’t much care what happens when I die whether that’s here and now or as an old man who can no longer fight.”  He thrust his axe angrily towards Rosalith.  “That’s my home.  Everyone I care about lives there.  And if I let you take one step past this beach their blood will be on my hands.  I am a part of something bigger right now.  I don’t need to wait until death claims me for that.  So while I’m here I shall do what I must to safeguard the flames of Rosaria.”  The last guard strode forward, axe at the ready.

        “You believe you sacrifice so much for that precious flame who fights your battles for you.  Fear not.  That flame will soon be extinguished, the sin of the abomination wiped clean of the land.  Mother will still allow it to join her alongside you.  We need only wait for it to return to save you.”

        Imreann was goading them and he knew it.  Knowing didn’t stop the flash of fear and anger he felt, though.  It was just enough that he knew his mistake the instant it happened.  He’d let it get to him for just a fraction too long, let his focus slip just a fraction too far.  The price for that slip was painful.  The guard swung, catching Clive’s chest and arm with his blade before he could get clear and sending him rolling into across the sand, a panicked cry from Wade following him. 

        Blood was quickly soaking his clothes.  The wounds he felt he could work through, but they were certainly more than he could heal himself.  He blinked the stars out of his vision.  This battle was not over.  He could not be taken out now.  He just had to get up.  He couldn’t leave Wade alone with guards of this caliber.  Clive wouldn’t want anyone facing them alone.  The fact that he was pretty sure he had done just that the first time he ignored.  That was clearly different; he’d had Torgal. 

        “What do you think, Ifrit?” he murmured to himself, rolling over onto his uninjured arm.  Luckily it was his sword arm.  “We’ve faced worse, right?”  Deep within his chest he felt something akin to a hum.  He’d felt it before.  It felt like readiness or agreement.  Clive and his Eikon were more aligned at that moment.  Or that’s how he’d always thought of it.  Not growing up with his Eikon he never had the training he assumed others did.  Half the time he felt like he was making it all up as he went.  “One last push.  I just need to stand.”  Unbidden, a jolt of aether flowed through him to semi-prime.  Ifrit hummed again and so did the Phoenix.  The message was clear: we will support you.  It reminded him of Joshua helping him push back against the Behemoth in Stonhyrr.  Together, like always.  With their help he found his feet.  They could do this.  “Wade!” he called.  The Shield immediately stepped away from an attack.  When the guard made to follow, Clive placed a Rime between them to stop him, ignoring the blood dripping from his hand as he did so.

        “My lord?” Wade said warily, eyeing him with a great deal of concern.  “Should you be standing?” 

        “I’ll manage.  We can take them.  They are the key to this but you might have to do the heavy lifting.” 

        “Are you certain, my lord?  You’ve already done too much.  I told Lady Jill—”

        “This is do or die, Sir Wade.  I have no intent of standing down.  Are you with me?”  He looked over at the Shield and watched his expression turn from worry to determination.  He spun his axe in his hands and sank into a stance. 

        “Always.”

        They wasted no more words.  Clive picked his sword out of the sand as he ran.  If the last however long it had been in this battle was a whirlwind, the next few minutes were even more so.  Clive wasn’t completely sure what was even happening.  Ifrit and the Phoenix were so instrumental in keeping him on his feet he could not bring the flames of either to hand.  But he still had the others.  He locked on the first guard with Ramuh’s Blind Justice, motes of lightning attaching themselves all over the guard’s armor.

        “Hit those!” he instructed. 

        Then he swapped to Bahamut for Impulse on the second to keep him off their backs. With him contained, Clive placed a Rime nearby for good measure before returning his attention to the first.  Wade had aimed directly for the lightning.  The guard was already staggering backward.  Doubling down on that, he opted for a Lightning Rod practically on top of him and swung at it himself.  The lightning arced through every part of the guard, his muscles seizing in place.  Wade’s axe slammed down into the guard’s chest from his shoulder and a few scattered flicks of lightning skittered away from the weapon.

        The last guard was on them in seconds, the Impulse and Rime both fading.  It had bought them precious time and the guard was already bleeding from the sharp ice.  Wade quickly landed an attack and rolled away before Clive could do much.  Opting not to change tactics that were working, he fired more motes of lightning towards the guard.  Already knowing what to do, Wade aimed for those motes once again.  With the punishment he’d suffered already, the guard stumbled forward.  One last axe wound through his back, one last blast of lightning from Ramuh, and he fell dead.

        “Still think the Phoenix fights our battles for us?” Wade taunted Imreann through heavy breaths.

        “Rosarian reverence for the abomination is quite clear,” Imreann replied with shaking voice.  Even he was beginning to take a step backward. 

        “Surely I misheard you,” a new voice called from the darkness behind the Patriarch.  “It would take quite some nerve to approach these shores just to call my nephew an abomination.”      

Chapter Text

        Absolute relief spread through Clive at the sound of Uncle Byron’s voice.  They weren’t in this alone any longer.  The strength he’d been granted as if magic itself vanished.  His sword fell from numb fingers into the sand and blood beneath him.  The spots he’d forced from his vision were back and this time they weren’t going away.  Just before he tumbled to the ground himself, he felt someone pull his arm up and hold him steady.

        “I’ve got you, my lord.”  With mumbled gratitude he followed Wade’s lead and stumbled away from the bustle of Byron’s people rounding up the rest of the Ironblood.  Their impossible gamble had paid off.  They’d held out.  Wade lowered him to the sand and Clive slumped against the rock behind him.  Founder, he was tired.  He let his eyes slip closed.  Just a few minutes and he would help with the cleanup.  He just needed a few minutes to rest.  “My lord?”  There was unmasked worry in Wade’s voice.

        “I’m just tired, Wade,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.  “Once I catch my breath I’ll help Uncle Byron.”

        “I think Lord Byron has it well in hand.  You should not move too much anyway.  You lost a lot of blood from that wound.”

        “Did I?”  In the heat of the moment he hadn’t thought to look down.  He only focused on what needed doing.  He didn’t much care to look now, either.  It felt like the bleeding had mostly stopped.

        “I’d say your last display, whatever changes your appearance, was your saving grace.”

        “Semi-prime.  If you were curious.”

        “I am curious about a great many things,” Wade muttered.  For a man who asked few questions when they met in the future, he seemed to have plenty now, even if he did keep them to himself.  “Incoming.  It seems you Uncle is quite worried for you.”  Clive pulled his eyes open to see Uncle Byron rushing toward him.  At least, he assumed that was who it was.  It was a little blurry.  “Can’t say as I blame him.  You look a right mess,” Wade snickered.

        “You are one to talk.”  Now that he was actually looking, Wade was covered in dirt and blood.  The only real difference between them was that most of it was not his own.  But that difference helped set Clive’s heart at ease.  He’d done his duty.  He’d kept enough of them back.  Once he had that confirmation from Jill as well, he could accept it as a job well done.  The wound across his chest was fine by him so long as everyone else was unscathed.  Bryon dropped down to his knees hesitantly beside Clive, fear and concern breaking through a mask of calm he was desperately trying to keep in place.  Carefully he peaked at Clive’s wounds, breathing a sigh of relief at what he found.

        “I’ll live, Uncle Byron, I assure you,” he said softly.  It was strangely difficult keeping his voice much above a whisper.  “It’s good to see you.  You have impeccable timing as always.  What are you doing here, though?  I didn’t expect to see Port Isolde.”

        “You didn’t expect your father to leave you on your own, did you?  He sent a stolas to Port Isolde requesting aid.  Nearly put me in an early grave to know it was only the four of you here.  It took longer to rally our people than I’d have liked, but we made it.  The city guard was too preoccupied with the defense of Rosalith to send aid, it seems.  I’ve a mind to have words with them for that.”  He grumbled the last part softly, probably not meaning to say it out loud.

        “Is the city alright?”  Byron nodded.

        “From what we can tell, it is.  Not many of those Iron Kingdom fools made it that far.” 

        “That’s a relief.  Speaking of Iron Kingdom fools…”

        “We’ve gathered them up and relieved them of their weapons.  Gave that talkative one a wallop when he went on about abominations again.  Daft and delusional, that one was.  Between you and I, a bit on the dense side.  No offense, Clive, but I think he had the wrong Rosfield.  Kept calling you abomination.  Well, Dominant or no, I’d had quite enough out of him!”  Clive chuckled, though it would barely qualify as such, not really processing what his uncle had said about him.   

        “As have I.  Enough for two lifetimes.” 

        “It does seem Joshua made quite the mess, didn’t he?  Where is my other nephew, by the way?  Do not tell me he left the two of you here alone.”  Clive looked past his uncle toward the ocean.  He could just make out two specks of light, one red and one white.  When he reached out to their aether, he could tell they were together and coming home.

        “Out there.  With Jill.”  Byron followed his gaze with furrowed brow.  He should probably explain but he just didn’t have it in him right now.  He’d see her soon enough anyway. 

        “I see,” Byron said simply.  “Well, you’ve all done enough.  I will make arrangements to get you back to Rosalith in no time.  Leave everything else to Port Isolde.”

        “As much as I would love to argue that, Uncle, I don’t think I have anything left in me.”  Byron opened his mouth to say something, eyes tight with concern, but seemed to think better of it.  Soon after, the Phoenix and Shiva approached the beach.  Once over land, Joshua dropped his prime, stumbled forward a few steps, and fell unmoving to the sand.  Jill did much the same, though she managed to push herself up to look for Clive.

        “I’ll see to them,” Bryon announced.  He stood and was quickly by their sides. 

        How Clive wanted to rush to them as well, but his body was just not moving.  They were alright, though.  That was enough.  They’d made it home.  Jill and Joshua were home and Uncle Byron was here to take care of the rest.  If there was a singular thing Byron excelled at beyond trading it was logistics.  Everything would be fine.  Clive could finally stand down.

        As he watched Uncle Byron see first to Joshua and then to Jill, it felt like someone wrapped him with a warm and invisible blanket.  Through blurry vision, he saw Byron directing people around both for aid and for the Ironblood.  Everyone was safe.  For once, someone else was handling the rest.  The warmth of the invisible blanket around him snuggled in closer reminding him of Torgal on a cold night.  He could feel it pulling his mind down into the black like something singing to him from a childhood memory he was certain was not his own.  Even so, it felt real enough to coax him into it.  He truly could not remember ever being so exhausted and it was a relief to just rest.

        Waited till you felt safe…  The words were such a barely-there murmur he wasn’t sure he heard them at all.  Yet it was the last thing he heard before slipping into the void.  Because he did feel safe now.

        To any looking, they would have seen little more than a wounded and exhausted young Shield falling asleep after a hard-fought battle.  They could not know something else lulled him there.  They never could have seen the spectral wisps of aether that rose from Clive’s chest when he finally succumbed to that siren song.  Two wisps, one purple and one cyan, danced elegantly upward, twisting around themselves while never touching.  They rose higher, caught the breeze off the ocean, and vanished into the night.  As soon as they were gone, a new thread of aether wove its way into the space they’d vacated, this a thread from a certain feather tucked into his tunic.  It crept in slowly as if trying not to arouse suspicion, as if anyone looking might catch the incursion.  When it was finished, Clive shifted, mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

        “The strength they need…” he breathed. 

        To any looking, they would have seen little more than a wounded and exhausted young Shield dreaming of something not entirely unpleasant after a hard-fought battle.  At that moment, in the aftermath of a duchy pulled from the brink of ruin, none could have guessed at the truth.

        The Firebird of Rosaria had only just begun to remake the world.

Elsewhere

   Stonhyrr, Kingdom of Waloed

        “Come on, Benna!  Put some muscle into it!”  Cid grinned as he watched Benedikta sneer at him, grumble, then stand to retrieve her rapier.  One of these days she might just learn enough swordplay to survive.  If she was diligent, one of these days she might even be decent at it.  Today, however, was not going to be that day.  She ran forward too quickly, swung too sloppily, and all it took was a sidestep and an open-palmed tap on the back to send her sprawling back into the dirt.  “Wild swings get you nowhere.”

        “Cid!  One hit!  Let me get in one hit!”  He turned to her with raised eyebrow.

        “Now why would I want to do that?”

        “Because you like me?”  He rolled his eyes, squatting in front of her.

        “I like you enough to teach you how to get an honest hit in for yourself.”  Benna protested loudly when he flicked her forehead, smacking at his hands and missing by a wide margin.

        These late-night sparring contests had become practically routine for them lately.  She was a latecomer to the sword and had little practice against real opponents because of it.  And because she was not taking to it.  At all.  Cid, being the nice guy that he was, took pity on her and, well, here they were.  So far she was yet to score a point against him.  He didn’t think he was trying that hard.  Maybe this was a hopeless cause.  Then again he’d always had a soft spot for a truly hopeless case.  She would get it one day.  A few more swings and she got frustrated enough to push him off balance with her wind magic.

        “None of that, now.  Sword first.  Magic second.  Don’t make my mistakes, Benna.”  More than anything he didn’t want to see her make his mistakes.  Too many years he’d spent being too cavalier with Ramuh and he was already paying the price.  The curse wasn’t bad yet but it was coming.  He knew the few tiny freckles of stone on his arm would turn into more quickly if he wasn’t careful.  Benedikta was too young to be courting the curse already.

        “Fine,” she grumbled some more.  Benedikta was also too young to really understand the wisdom of her elders and take it to heart.  Cid was beginning to fear Barnabas would rub off on her.  His beliefs on using his Eikon bordered on the insane, like he courted the curse.  But so far Benna still humored Cid when he called her out on it.  Usually.  “One more try.”

        He nodded and she adopted a stance.  To Cid’s surprise she didn’t immediately lunge forward.  Instead she took a moment to breathe, to center her balance, to focus on her target.  That was rare.  Most of the time she was as wild as the wind she was deemed warden of.  This time when she rushed in she controlled her steps.  She kept her swings tight and allowed for fewer openings.  Cid sidestepped and dodged everything until he fell for her feint to the right and she nearly got a hit in on the left.  With trained reflexes he grabbed the hilt of his sword in his left hand, blade running down the length of his arm, to block her rapier.  Benna took a step back and he flipped the sword into his other hand with ease.  Tonight was not a lesson on defense and so he waited for her next move.  She tried going low, a poor decision really.  He stepped over her swipe, grabbed her arm, spun around behind her, and laid his sword across her shoulder.

        “I’d say making me draw my sword earns some praise,” he said as he released her. 

        “Tomorrow, then!  Tomorrow I score a point!”  She beamed at his praise and tossed her rapier into the air in celebration.  He rather doubted she would get him tomorrow, but let her have her fun. 

        “I’m sure you will.”  Cid extended an arm around her shoulders to escort her out of the training ring and back towards the castle. 

        The stone halls were quiet this time of night as a general rule but lately they’d been getting quieter and quieter night or day.  Cid was sure he wasn’t imagining that.  It was slow, so slow he didn’t think anyone else noticed.  If they had they hadn’t said anything.  The staff dwindled as did the guards and visitors were nigh unheard of these days.  It set him on edge.  Some days it felt like there were only three people living in this whole castle.  Once, and only once, he mentioned it to Barnabas.  The king had said they were “serving elsewhere.”  The words themselves were innocent enough but his eyes were so cold and a chilling turn to his lips pulled an unexpected shiver up Cid’s spine.  Whatever this was, Barnabas knew and Cid did not like the implications.  He didn’t fear for himself or Benna yet.  Barnabas had always had a weakness for Dominants.  Still…  Yet.  Yet.  The fact he always, without fail, unconsciously placed that quantifier after the thought kept him watching his back.  He couldn’t let Benedikta know of his concerns, though.  This place was a stability in her life she needed and he wouldn’t take it from her with his own concerns.  Not unless they were very well founded.

        “Do you have meetings with the king again tomorrow?”

        “No.  He left this morning.”

        “A day free must be nice.”

        “Ah, no such luck for me.  I’ve got other responsibilities.  Whole kingdom would fall apart if I took a day off.”

        “What kind of responsibilities?”  Cid cast a glance her direction.

        “Why so curious?”  Benedikta shrugged.

        “No reason.  I only realized I don’t know what a Lord Commander does when the king is away.”

        “If you are so interested you could tag along.”

        “I think I would like that.”

        “Bright and early, then.”  Benna mocked a salute and turned down a hallway towards her room. 

        Cid smiled and turned towards his own room, pulling his collar loser against the suddenly rising temperature as he walked.  He mentally ran through a list of things he needed to accomplish tomorrow.  Equipment transfers, status reports, training maneuvers to hand down to his officers.  Benna picked a bad day to shadow.  Paperwork and reports were always a dull chore.  He closed his door and locked it, then tossed his gloves onto the desk.  Bloody hell, why was it so hot in here?  The hearth was cold, the window was open, both as he’d left them.  It was rarely hot in Stonhyrr anyway with the sea so close.  Not even in the middle of summer, and this was not the middle of summer.  Taking a swig of whatever he’d left in his cup helped little so he resigned himself to enduring a strangely warm night of discomfort.  He unbuckled his swords and reached out to place them in a chair. 

        That was when the temperature skyrocketed to an unbelievable degree, slamming into him out of nowhere and staggering him across the floor.  The swords and belt slipped from his hand to clatter to the ground.  Cid stumbled a step further into the center of the room, vision narrowed to tiny pinpricks.  He felt the impact of landing on hard stone, the rug doing nothing to soften the blow, before the overwhelming heat forcibly pushed all of his senses away from him.  And once done, something else settled into his mind.  An outline of a person, entirely robed in flame, holding out its hands in offering, a small, crackling ball of lightning resting in its palms.  It held its hands out closer to him, beckoning him to take the sphere.  The lightning, his own lightning, he knew, lifted from its palms to nestle its way into Cid’s mind, heart, and soul.  In the midst of some feeling akin to an apology, he clearly heard two words:

        Help them.

Elsewhere

   Oriflamme, Holy Empire of Sanbreque

        Terence crept silently through the halls of the imperial palace.  Getting caught sneaking around like this was sure to end in harsh punishment yet he did it regularly.  Dion might be a prince now but he was still Terence’s best friend.  Even if they couldn’t be that in public any longer it didn’t change the fact.  And he knew Dion felt the same.  So he snuck in to see him when he could.  True, it might have been easier for Dion to sneak out to him.  It certainly would give them more freedom.  The idea of his friend breaking the rules was laughable, though.  Always so straight-laced and duty-bound.  Most of the time Terence admired it; sometimes it just got in the way.  A faint light appeared at the end of the hallway, glowing brighter as someone approached.  Swiftly he hid behind a pedestal with a vase of wyvern tails.  He’d done this too many times to get nervous at this point.  Several seconds later the servant and light passed by to continue down the corridor and Terence emerged from his hiding spot.  It wasn’t far now.  A left at the end, three doors, then he darted inside with barely a knock.

        The fire was still well-stoked inside the prince’s bedroom.  A fresh candle sat on a table near a pile of books.  That was unsurprising.  Dion had admitted to him how completely unprepared he felt to be a prince, having not been born into it.  He often read and studied late into the night trying to catch up.  It was one of the reasons they had been able to pull off these visits.  Also why, more often than not, the visits were met with silent studying rather than playful banter.  That was alright with him, though.  The company was what mattered.  Strangely, tonight the prince himself seemed to be missing. 

        “Dion?”  He was always here when Terence came to visit.  Where could he be at this hour?  A soft moan was his answer.  Behind the chair, hidden from view, his friend lay sprawled on the ground.  “Dion!”  Rushing over to help, Terence rolled him over onto his back.  He was absolutely blistering with fever, blond hair sticking haphazardly to his sweat-slicked skin.  “I need to get you some help.”  It would hurt their visits, he knew, and there was no small amount of regret for that.  But he also knew that a fever like this could be deadly.  It would be more than he could stand if he let him die.  He stood to go find someone only to feel a hand clamp with too much force around his arm.  Dion looked at him through reddened, half-lidded eyes.

        “Don’t leave me,” he whimpered.

        “You need help.  A physicker.  Someone to take care of you.”  But Dion shook his head, eyes closing.

        “Not again.  Never should have…sent you away.”  The grip only tightened.  Sent him away?  When had he ever sent Terence away save to keep him from trouble?

        “What are you talking about?”  It was clear the fever had made him delirious yet he asked the question anyway.

        “Ran’dellah.  How could I know?”  Through everything his friend had been through, the strains of growing up in the lower sections of town, awakening Bahamut, suddenly becoming a prince and heir, Terence had never once seen him cry.  He bore it all with grace and strength.  Yet through whatever fever-dream he currently suffered, he did cry at the mention of Ran’dellah.  Which was odd since Terence had never been there himself, let alone with Dion.

        “You sent me nowhere,” he whispered urgently.  The distress palpable in Dion’s delirium forced Terence to return to his side, perhaps against his better judgement.  “I am right here and here I shall remain.”  Dion nodded weakly, grip finally loosening.  “Let’s try to get you to bed.”  Maybe then he could go get help.  Terence gently pulled his arm free to try lifting Dion’s arm over his shoulders.  Slowly coaxing the prince to unsteady feet, he dragged him towards the bed.

        “I’m sorry,” Dion murmured.

        “For what?”

        “You died for my sense of honor.  How you must despise me to haunt me so.  It is no less than I deserve.” 

        “I sincerely believe you need a better fever dream, Dion.”  With some patience he managed to get Dion up to his bed, thanking good Greagor that he was just enough taller than him now to do it. 

        “No less than I deserve,” he repeated.  “I have committed too many sins to be forgiven so easily.”  Terence actually snickered.

        “You have done naught to receive even a scolding, your royal highness.”  He pressed Dion back into his bed then stepped away to pour some water for a cool cloth to hopefully reduce his fever.  He’d seen others do that in the past and it seemed to help.  Dion was already reaching for him by the time he returned, that same distressed look returning to his face.  He wiped away some of the sweat on his forehead and laid the cloth across him.  Dion swallowed thickly, prompting Terence to fetch a cup of water as well.  With some help he gulped the water down and laid back. 

        “Would that you spoke true.”  He opened his eyes to look at Terence, confusion pulling his brows together.  But what made Terence wary?  His eyes began flickering from their natural golden brown to an unnatural blue to an equally unnatural gold and then back again.  He’d never seen anything like it.  He had no idea what it meant, but he had seen that unnatural blue just once before when he begged Dion to show him Bahamut.  Dion had finally semi-primed for a moment just to cease his begging.  To see it now left him with only one possible conclusion: the Eikon was somehow involved.  “Why am I even here?  I was prepared to atone with my life against Ultima.  I should have died.  I cannot keep doing this.”  Dion began weeping once more.  Now Terence was scared for a very different reason.  This was no ordinary fever.  For some reason, though it should have done the exact opposite, that realization dashed all thought of running for help.

        “Dion?  Tell me everything.”

Chapter Text

        “Jote.  Wake up.  We are needed to attend the Phoenix.”  Those simple words jolted through Jote’s system like a spike of adrenaline.  She was halfway out of her bed before her eyes had fully opened.  Two years she’d trained for this moment.  The day the Phoenix would need them.

        “What has happened, Master Lochlan?”  Master Lochlan, head physicker of the Undying and the primary caregiver to the often ill Dominant, waited patiently as Jote stepped behind a screen to change.  He was a caring sort of man in his fifties with large eyes and scraggly auburn beard which was most certainly his most distinguishable feature.

        “A great deal, I am led to believe.  All will be on hand in the coming hours.  The Archduke sent word that he would return with a number of wounded Shields.  The other physickers will see to them but it may be possible they will require extra assistance.  However Lord Byron also sent word that the Phoenix, his brother, and the ward will be arriving shortly along with a Shield who will provide more information.”

        “Of course, Master.  But all three?  What could have happened to them?”  At ten summers, Jote had not been in the castle long.  Only two years past she became the apprentice to the head physicker.  Some who saw her believed her too young for her position, but none remained a child for long as a part of the Undying.  It was something they all accepted.  In her time here, though, she could not recall a situation so dire.  The Phoenix, the lord marquess, and the ward, all in need of attention at once?  It was rare the three even left Rosalith together.

        “It is my hope the Shield in question will explain.”  Jote pulled on her shoes and the two walked out into the infirmary to prepare.

        This part of the infirmary was largely private, specifically designed for the ruling family to be treated away from others.  It had been used sparingly, as Jote understood it, until the current Phoenix was born.  He saw this room often, unfortunately.  Although she had yet to meet him in person, it saddened her all the same to know how sick he had always been.  She wanted to help ease that burden if she could.  It was that which pressed her to seek her apprenticeship.  She never imagined her first time meeting their charge would be under conditions like this.  She was excited to be needed, though she did feel guilty considering it would mean he was not well, but she was also a little scared.  This was the first time Master Lochlan called for her aid.  Up until now she observed and learned rather than acted, and never around the Phoenix.  He was too important for that.  Focusing on the task at hand, she set up three treatment stations to perfection.  Then on a whim, set up a fourth for the Shield just in case.  If he were accompanying them, surely he deserved their treatment as well should he require it.

        Master Lochlan was nervous.  And worried.  To anyone else he would have seemed calm but Jote saw the signs.  His little finger curling into his palm while looking over a chart.  Raking his hands through his beard more often.  Did he know something she didn’t?  Or did he fear for his usual charge’s health?  Although she did her best to remain calm, his nerves rubbed off on her.  She straightened each of their stations multiple times for want of a distraction from it.

        An hour later shuffling in the corridor announced their arrival.  A Shield with an axe strapped to his back walked in, looking around a little unsure, then held the door for six others to carry in three stretchers.  Master Lochlan immediately directed the men  around the room and the three patients were quickly laid out on the beds.  None of the three moved so much as a finger despite all the jostling.  Once done, the Shield ordered the others to return to Lord Byron.  It left the room oddly quiet after such a brief flurry of activity.  Jote waited nearby for instructions, taking the opportunity to look over their patients.

        Who she assumed was the lord marquess was bare to the waist and already bandaged around chest and arm, albeit a rushed and inefficient job.  Fresh blood smeared across his skin layered on top of dried blood.  He was covered in dirt and soot and his black hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.  He was also very pale, unsurprising given the amount of blood she could only assume was his.  A brief glance at the others was enough to plainly see he was in the most serious condition.

        The ward, Lady Jill, she thought her name was, was equally dirty and sweat-covered.  Most of the blood on her clothes didn’t seem to be hers, despite several obvious wounds.  Those wounds were too small for that amount of blood.  Could those cuts and bruises be from weapons?  Had she been in a fight, then?  Could the extra blood be the lord marquess’?  Surely the ward of Rosaria would not have fought herself.

        Their last patient, who could only be the Phoenix, her gaze lingered on.  Although pale, he was the cleanest of the three.  Four, counting the Shield who was also blood-stained and wounded.  How the Phoenix merely looked as if sleeping while the others seemed so worn she did not know.  Master Lochlan and the Shield continued speaking but Jote was not listening.  There was something drawing her attention to the Phoenix, pinning it there to the exclusion of all else.  She should be by his side.  As if pulled on an invisible wire she stepped over to him.  He looked young, younger than she, though she knew that was incorrect.  What could have happened to him?  Was his Eikon involved?  Part of her had to admit that she would like to see it one day.  That thought also brought a pang of fear to her heart and she wasn’t sure why.

        “They’re all Dominants!?”  Master Lochlan’s loud statement pulled her attention unwillingly away from the Phoenix.  He turned from the Shield to look at all three of their patients with disbelief, gaping at each of them in the most unprofessional look she’d ever seen from him. 

        “That must not leave this room,” the Shield insisted.  “I’m trusting you since Lord Byron said you treat the Rosfields personally.”  Jote glanced up at the Shield’s words.  He stood firm and adamant with a trace of uncertainty.  He must not know of the Undying.  Without that knowledge, information like that would surely seem a risk to him.  Master Lochlan nodded, pulling himself back toward professionalism.

        “Of course.  You were right to do so.  Forgive me.  That was quite a shock.”

        “Believe me, I understand more than you think.”  Jote had a strange feeling there was much this Shield understood which he was not sharing.  He looked up at her with the same firm gaze.  “You must keep this quiet as well, my lady.”  Jote kept her expression placid but she did jump a little at being addressed like that.  It felt odd, to be addressed in such a way.  She nodded her agreement in silence.

        “Come, Jote,” the master called.  “We should begin.”

        Giving the Phoenix a final glance she reluctantly stepped away to perform her work.  Despite their sworn Dominant being in the room, they chose to begin with the lord marquess.  She’d expected that under the circumstances.  He truly looked dreadful.  Jote had seen much in her apprenticeship but not a wound like this.  It extended nearly shoulder to hip and crossed to the inner space of his left arm in a near-straight line.  She was used to illness not battle wounds, which is precisely what this was, Master Lochlan explained.  He also said the vein in his arm had been severed and he’d lost a lot of blood as a result.  Fortunately his abilities as a Dominant healed the wound before too much damage was done.  For most, that would be a worse wound than the shallow slice, despite appearances.  The treatment turned into a lecture on battle wounds while the master stitched the places that had not already healed.  Jote paid close attention to everything since all she could really do was hand him the items he needed.

        Once the lord marquess was cleaned up, stitched, and bandaged, it was Lady Jill’s turn.  Again, Jote understood despite her eyes wandering back to the Phoenix.  Master Lochlan had Jote take a more active role for Lady Jill, this time assisting her instead.  Lady Jill’s wounds were small, similar to accidents Jote had seen before, and she was more prepared to treat them.  This time the lecture was about Dominants’ use of aether and how draining it can be on their bodies.  That also led to a reminder of the curse which they must be ever vigilant for.  It was slow to appear in Dominants, but could advance more quickly in later stages.  When Lady Jill was bandaged and resting, they could examine the Phoenix.  Jote felt an instinct triggering she could not explain.  As if her need to be nearby was only the surface of a lake threatening to spill over a dam and her focus was all it required to break the surface tension.

        “Did he prime?” she asked the Shield in a tone of authority she would hardly call her own.

        “He did.  Went into the Apodytery this morning and had a…uh, communion, I guess.  Then flew us all from Phoenix Gate.  He also took out most of the ships after we arrived.”  So he had been primed a long while, then.  She huffed in annoyance with little idea why.

        Her hands moved with little thought given to what she was doing, like she had done this very thing a thousand times.  She supported his weight with ease to clean the grime off him then reached for arnica to rub into his shoulders.  She looked at specific spots on his arms and legs both for the curse, and breathed a sigh of relief when it was absent.  After covering him with a blanket she reached into her pocket for a tub of balm she used for her own lips when they chapped and rubbed some on his.  None of this did she truly realize she did until she opened his shirt with a jar of salve in hand to treat a wound on his chest which did not exist.  That jerked her out of her trance to blink at her surroundings.  Master Lochlan stood nearby watching, arms across his chest.  He had not helped her in the slightest.

        “I-I’m sorry, Master.  I do not know what I was thinking.”  Jote bowed her head respectfully and backed away from the bed. 

        “Do not apologize, Jote.  I would have stopped you had you done something troubling.  Why would you put arnica on his shoulders?”  She opened her mouth to confess she did not know.  Instead…

        “His shoulders often hurt after he semi-primes and sometimes when he primes.”  Her eyes went wide to hear her own words.  Was she inventing things now?  Was she so enamored with their Phoenix she’d invented traits for him?

        “And the balm for his lips?” 

        “Chapped lips from the heat.  He prefers the honey in mine.”  She pressed her fingers to her lips and backed further away.  “I don’t…  Is any of that real, Master?”

        “What did you think to find on his chest?”  What had she thought to find?  It wasn’t there, whatever it was.  Master Lochlan was tense awaiting her answer. 

        “I don’t know,” she finally admitted.  “A wound of some kind.  A wound I am relieved is not there.  I was so sure it would be…”  Jote was scared and confused.  If she were not so absolutely certain everything she did was correct, everything she said was correct, she would think she’d lost her mind.

        “It’s alright, Jote,” Master Lochlan finally sighed.  “The previous Phoenix suffered from similar afflictions.  I had not thought you had read those reports but you must have seen them without my knowledge.  Go get some rest.  You have earned it.  I will tend to our Shield.”

        “But I…  Yes, Master Lochlan.”  Jote bowed politely and started toward her room.  The infirmary door slammed open before she made it.  Ciara, one of the Shields’ physickers, barged into the room, eyes frantically settling on the master.

        “Lochlan.  Our lot’s comin’ through the city gates.  We’ll be needin’ ya if ya can be spared.  They’ve got themselves inta a fine mess out there.”  Master Lochlan looked around at their patients, then at Jote.  She nodded and stepped back into the room.

        “Jote.  Keep close watch on them, lord marquess in particular.  I’ll be down the hall if there’s any change.”  Both physickers left quickly after she nodded again.

        “What’s going on?” the Shield asked when the door clicked behind them.  Jote gestured for him to take a seat on the last bed.  He glanced back at the door nervously before leaning his axe against the wall and acquiescing.  She wondered if he realized he’d been shaking.  Now that he was closer to her level, he looked exhausted.

        “Apparently the Archduke is bringing wounded home with him.”

        “What?!”  He jumped to his feet.  “I have to—”  Jote tugged on the back of his leathers with quick reflexes to slow him, then ran to the door and held her arms over it.

        “You need only seat yourself so I may tend your wounds.”  Somehow she’d found a bit of that mysterious authority to use again.

        “I’m sorry, my lady, but I have friends with the Archduke.  I need to know what happened.”  Jote felt for him.  There was a nervous panic in his eyes.  He easily could have tossed her to the side and run anyway but the fact that he didn’t gave her a hunch.  She’d been trained in bedside manner already, so in light of his fear, she changed her tactic.

        “May I ask you name?”

        “It’s Wade.”

        “Sir Wade.  I understand.  But lest you forget, you also have wounds that need bandaged.  Did you not notice the way your hands shook when you set aside your weapon?  You are exhausted from your ordeal the same as the others.  Should you go, I fear you may collapse and cause more harm than good.  Please, allow me to tend to your wounds.  Rest here.  Master Lochlan and Ciara are excellent physickers.  They will care for your friends should they be among the wounded.”  Sir Wade stared at her for several tense seconds.  Then he sighed, swiped a hand down his face, and practically fell back onto the side of the bed.

        “You will be too.  Sooner than later, I’d wager.”  Jote breathed a sigh of relief that she’d been right, that this Shield was not beyond reason.  She walked over, poured water in the basin, and began cleaning the blood and dirt so she could get a better look.  “Your name was Jote, right?”

        “It is.”

        “Have you known his highness long?”  Jote frowned at her work.

        “No.  This is our first meeting.”

        “Could have fooled me.”  She continued swiping until clean, then focused her attention on bandaging.  She started with the raw places on his hand where his weapon had demanded a price of skin be paid.

        “I do not know why I did any of that,” she murmured, unable to stop the thought from slipping through her lips.

        “I’m guessing you haven’t read those records your master was speaking of.”  She glanced up, momentarily debating whether she should say more.

        “No.”  She tied the bandage on one hand then picked up another.  He held his other hand out for her.  “Please do not tell Master Lochlan that.”

        “I won’t.  Love to know what you expected on his chest.”

        “As would I.  If I cannot rationalize it I fear the master may suspect me unfit to be his apprentice.” 

        “When you did nothing wrong?”

        “Though it was not wrong, I had no understanding of why.  That could prove harmful if not kept in check.”  She tightened the bandage and moved on once again, this time to a graze across his cheek that was lucky enough to miss everything important.  She dabbed her cloth over the spot to clean it, then turned back for a bandage.

        “Can I offer a piece of advice?” he asked while her back was turned. 

        “If you’d like.”  He let her finish the bandage on his cheek before speaking.

        “Trust your instinct, especially around the three of them.  Things have been a little out of the norm lately.  Don’t tell your master I said that.”  He grinned.  He’d a calm smile for all that he’d apparently been through today and it tugged a small smile from her own lips.

        “I won’t.”  Still smiling at their shared secret, she saw to the worst of his wounds, a pair of crossed slices across his shoulder.  He flinched when she prodded it.

        “What are the odds of getting hit twice in the same spot?”  He tried to laugh it off but flinched again.

        “I will need to stitch this.”  Taking up the needle, she positioned herself on her knees behind him where she could better reach.  “May I ask what happened to you all?”  He huffed a small laugh.  “Stop moving.”

        “Sorry.  It didn’t look like you were listening while I spoke to your master.  The Iron Kingdom were here to launch a raid on Rosalith.”  He paused, a thoughtful hum resonating through him.  “Might should not have been so free with that information.”

        “It is to be expected from exhaustion,” Jote replied neutrally.  “I would not speak of it anyway.  Did you all fight?”

        “We did.”

        “Even Lady Jill?” 

        “Right alongside us.”  The needle paused in her hand for just a moment.  For her to fight a battle like that alongside the others was unusual.  Just as unusual as both the lord marquess and the Phoenix fighting together, she supposed.  This was just a night to bend accepted rules, apparently.  Jote couldn’t help but wonder what could have led the Archduke to allow something like this.  Her eyes drifted back toward the Phoenix between stitches.  A thought passed through her mind to stand in front of him, hand on a dagger to protect him from anything.  She could almost see it, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do.

        “Did I miss anything?” she asked to remove the thought from her head and tied off the thread. 

        “I don’t think so?  I don’t know.  It’s all a bit of a blur, actually.”

        “Well, your leathers do not seem in poor condition and I see no more blood.  Would you like me to look you over to be sure?”

        “I think I’ll be fine.  No offense, my lady, but I’m not entirely sure how I feel about being stitched up by a child, excellent physicker though you will soon be.”

        “I take no offense, Sir Wade.  You would not be the first to comment on my age.  No one stays young for long in the infirmary.”  She hopped off the bed and returned her implements to the tray before washing her hands.  “That said,” she began, digging some clothing out of a cabinet, “I recommend you give yourself a once over.  You may clean yourself up and change over there.  Then you can get some sleep.”  She pointed to a screen on the opposite side of the room.  Sir Wade hesitated.  “You need rest.  Bloodied leathers and dirty skin are quick routes to infection, even for small wounds, as is a lack of time for your body to heal.”  Still he looked wary.  “Physicker’s orders.”

        “How many people have you treated?” he suddenly asked curiously. 

        “I…  Um.  One.  You are my first unsupervised,” she haltingly admitted. 

        “You know I could go to the barracks, right?  I do not think myself so injured as to warrant a stay in the infirmary.”  Jote groused at the obvious course she hadn’t considered.  She was Undying, as was Master Lochlan.  Their infirmary was for the ruling family, the Phoenix in particular.  Would they accept a Shield for the night?  He’d stood alongside them, but the Shields typically did, did they not?  No, this was her patient and therefore her orders.  A night to bend the rules.

        “I want to keep my patient for observation,” she said as firmly as she could.  Sir Wade smiled.  Then laughed quietly as if not to disturb the others, though she was certain they would not wake for some time. 

        “Well, who am I to keep you from your duty to your first patient?”  He seemed to relax a bit, a tension she hadn’t taken notice of before leaving his shoulders. 

        It took a while to get her patient settled.  There was a fastener on his leathers that had almost melted shut (she did not wish to know how that happened without burning him) and she’d had to cut through the strap when neither of them could undo it.  Then once clean he paced the room for several minutes, refusing to sit.  She eventually had to give him something to calm him down enough to sleep.  She wasn’t sure she should be giving anyone medicine without permission, but she was absolutely certain what that one was for and had no reservations about using it.  And the Shield had trusted her judgement.  Eventually.  It did make her wonder if there was something she should have known about treating soldiers before now, especially when she saw him jump when someone dropped a box outside.  She should read up on that.

        Now that everything was quiet, Jote could check up on her other patients.  No new red was visible on any bandages, which was good.  She also held a hand to each of their foreheads to check for fever.  That was also absent.  It seemed her active role was finished for the time being.  All that remained was waiting and reacting.  Master Lochlan had warned her that this could be the most challenging period, when patients needed monitoring but there was nothing more to be done.  While that was certainly proving true, the calm and inactivity also served to bring her own confusion to the surface.  What had she thought to find on the Phoenix’s chest?  How had she known how to care for him so specifically?  She was certain it was all true.

        Certain or no, she was hesitant to go near him for fear it might happen again.  What if she did something wrong?  Accidentally harmed him?  Rather than risk anything she scanned the books of patient records Master Lochlan and his predecessors kept.  Finally she found what she was looking for: a record for the Dominant of the Phoenix.  This particular book recorded observations and infirmary visits for all the Dominants since the Undying was founded.  They were meticulous in its upkeep, perhaps more than any other document in their possession, in case something unique to the Phoenix ever arose.  Feeling like she was breaking rules she knew nothing of, she cracked open the book.

Joshua Rosfield. 

Born Year of the Realm 850

Suffers poor constitution, possibly as a result of Eikon.  Breathing frequently strained, worse after using magic.  Susceptible to colds and other common illnesses.

Speculation: priming may prove impossible.  The Phoenix could kill its Dominant unless health improves.

        Jote glanced over the edge of the book.  Their speculation was not only wrong, it was wildly so.  Curious, she walked over to check his breathing.  Regular, unlabored, no signs of anything out of the ordinary.  Which, according to the mass of recorded visits in the book, was in itself out of the ordinary.  This must have been the first time he had primed, right?  There would have been record of it otherwise.  For a boy they’d thought might die, if he could do it at all, he seemed to have handled it well.  Jote knew little of Dominants really, but would others find that odd?  He did so much for his first prime, too.  He carried others, fought at sea, stayed primed for what she could only assume was hours.  Did Dominants innately have such control so quickly?  Looking at Lady Jill, the answer should have been yes as she was not known to the Undying before now.  Jote had her doubts.  This seemed too much to expect to her untrained mind.  She flipped to the previous Phoenix.

Alexander Rosfield.

Born Year of the Realm 790

Died Year of the Realm 845

First primed at seven summers

Curse began Year of the Realm 820 as small mark under left arm

Took active role in war with Northern Territories until curse appeared, then withdrew from fighting as possible

Right knee often swollen after riding accident.  Tends to inflame in cold temperatures.

Cause of death: primed in Battle of Twin Pines.  Curse reached the heart before being seen by public.  Public informed he was killed in battle.

        A dozen treatments were listed beneath his name, most for the curse.  The current Phoenix, however, had pages of treatments.  Once again Jote wondered how he showed so little problem beyond the expected exhaustion.  There was something missing, though.  Master Lochlan said the previous Phoenix had suffered similar afflictions to those she had treated.  Nowhere in his record did it mention any of them.  Did they just not write them down?  Jote looked at the young Phoenix.  Then at Lady Jill.  Then at the lord marquess.  There was something she was not seeing in these three.  Something she very much wanted to know.  She had little time for further thought, however, as the door opened in a rush to admit the Archduke himself, frantically looking around the room.

        “Your Grace!” she gasped in surprise.  She managed to remember to bow through the shock of seeing him here.  Master Lochlan really should have been the one to address him, not her.  Perhaps she should fetch him? 

        At first when the Archduke did not address her she thought he merely looked past the obvious apprentice in the room.  It seemed inappropriate to speak until spoken to, so she said nothing.  Then she heard it.  A soft, barely there sniff.  Daring a peak up through her hair, she didn’t see the Archduke.  She saw something none she knew had ever seen.  He stood, shoulders slumped, in between the beds, looking at his children with the most raw expression she’d ever seen in a grown man.  Guilt, relief, and fear all vying for dominance.  Jote didn’t see the Archduke; she saw the father of her patients.  He was beside himself with something she could never understand. 

        Slowly she stood, heart cracking to watch the scene before her.  The master always said a physicker had to be strong when all others fell apart around them.  No matter what they felt, it was imperative they keep it stowed away for a time when others did not need them.  So she tucked that cracking heart away for what needed done.  Silently, she backed into Master Lochlan’s office and returned the book to its place.  Then she busied herself making a cup of tea with what the master had available.  Once done, she returned, glancing at her patients out of practiced habit, and approached the Archduke. 

        “Your Grace, if I may be so bold.”  The Archduke spun to meet her, leaving her to suspect he truly had not seen her earlier.  She held the cup out with both hands.  “You look as if you may benefit from a calming tea.”  She bowed her head and waited, a little worm of nervousness burrowing into her the longer she waited.  Tea?  That was such a pathetic thing to offer a man who is clearly suffering at the sight of his family in such a state.  After several seconds that felt like minutes, he took the offered cup.

        “Thank you.  What is your name, young apprentice?”

        “Jote, Your Grace.  Apprentice of the Undying to Master Lochlan.”

        “Stand, Jote.  Please.”  She did as instructed, finding that his expression had already calmed somewhat.

        “Thank you, Your Grace.”  Stepping aside, she pulled one of the stools up for him to sit on.  “I can tell you of their care, if you would like, or I can fetch Master Lochlan if you prefer to hear it directly from him.”  The Archduke took the stool with a grateful nod and placed it at the end of the lord marquess’ bed where he could see both his sons and Lady Jill and Sir Wade on the other side of the room.

        “Did you assist him?” he asked as he sat down wearily.

        “I did, Your Grace.”

        “Then tell me.  Please.  Leave no detail unspoken.”

        She watched him closely as she explained the details of each, beginning with the lord marquess as that was where they began.  That, she thought, had been a poor choice when he drew a shuddering breath that she feared might well turn to tears at the mention of the close call his son had.  Thankfully that was the worst of the news and he was able to calm his sorrow.  Dutifully she recounted everything she saw and treated on each of them while the Archduke did drink the tea she’d prepared for him.  The only thing she left unsaid was her own role in treating the Phoenix. 

        “We expect them all to make a full recovery, Your Grace.  You need not worry for them, though I understand the waiting may prove difficult.”  He nodded, just as wearily as before.

        “Thank you, young Jote.”

        “Forgive me if I step out of line, Your Grace, but are you well?  I have already taken Sir Wade personally as a patient and while I fear I may not be the most qualified to serve the Archduke, I am also the only one currently available.  I would be more than happy to see to any injury you may have as well.  I heard there was trouble on your return.”  To her surprise, the Archduke chuckled warmly.

        “I have no injury, young Jote, though I commend your initiative.  You have already done much to set my ails right.”

        “I am glad to hear it, Your Grace.  Would…”  Jote trailed off before finishing the question she wanted to ask.  Like the Phoenix, she had never met the Archduke in person, though his reputation was as a kind and benevolent leader.  Perhaps meeting him under such circumstances made it easy to forget he was the Archduke. 

        “You’ve a question for me?”  She fidgeted under his firm gaze, trying not to twist her fingers together in nervous habit.

        “I…only thought to make an offer.  It seems unbefitting the Archduke of Rosaria, however.”

        “You’ve piqued my curiosity.”  Now she did twist her fingers.

        “Should you wish to stay with them, Your Grace,” she said slowly, “we’ve a spare cot I can fetch for you.  Alas we have no extra beds at the moment.  If that is something which might help ease your worries?”  Whatever confidence she may have held earlier slipped away from her.  First she offers tea unprompted and then a cot to the Archduke himself.  Master Lochlan was going to lecture her from sunup to sundown when he found out, even if her intentions had been good.  But the Archduke didn’t judge.  He smiled and handed the cup back to her.

        “You are perceptive, young Jote.  If it would not inconvenience your work, I should very much like to stay with my family tonight.  It has been an intensely trying day.  It would certainly comfort my heart to have them close by.  Just for tonight.”

        Jote returned his smile, relieved he had been as kind as everyone said he was.  She’d read stories of leaders of other nations who would have thought themselves slighted to be offered a simple cot.  Instead the offer to be near those he loved released some of the tension around his eyes.  Whatever had happened today must have caused a great deal of strain for such a simple thing to be so effective.  Gladly she set to work fetching the cot from the cupboard and setting it up near the beds while leaving enough room to work.  Then she retrieved pillow and blankets.  She had to admit, she was already thinking of the Archduke, of all people, her patient that night as well, injuries or no.  She would not readily allow others to disturb any of her patients.  Not while in her care.  She smiled, walking back to the cupboard for one more blanket after the Archduke had settled himself.  She liked this feeling of having charges which she must care for.  It made her feel useful, like she had a purpose.  Jote made a mental note of the feeling while placing one more blanket over the Phoenix.  He often got cold after using a great deal of his power.  This time, she didn’t catch the phantom knowledge calling her to action, too lost in her own reflection of duty.

Chapter Text

        Cold wind whipped around him leaving goosebumps across the skin it touched.  He slowly opened his eyes only to wish he hadn’t.  Rosalith burned in the distance and everywhere he could see Rosaria was little more than ash.  The wind kicked up more particles, caking him in dust from head to toe.  He tried to run, to do something.  Anything.  But the harder he struggled the more it felt like chains around his limbs tying him down, forcing him to look at the bodies he was helpless to save.  His father lie in the midst of long abandoned swords.  A burned and blackened body carrying Lord Murdoch’s sword barely held its shape nearby.  Dozens of Shields and even more Guardians bled out across the ground.  Bearers from Auldyl, still strung up on posts, dotted the landscape while Martha desperately tried to find anyone still living in the graveyard they had all once called home.  He didn’t want this fate for any of them.  He didn’t want to see his home ground to dust.

        He pulled uselessly against his chains but they would not budge.  Not until the cuffs binding him grew hot.  Hotter and hotter he thought they meant to burn the world and everyone in it.  Instead it melted the metal.  It freed him.  Martha and the Bearers disappeared.  The Shields and Guardians vanished.  Lord Murdoch and his father gone in a blink.  Green grass took root beneath his feet, slowly creeping to every corner returning the desolate land to life.  On his left it collected densely around a familiar scarlet armband with a griffin’s heartstone in the center.  On the right it gave life to a bundle of snow daisies.  Behind him, that grass continued in a desperate bid to restore the land, forming around two more small lumps in the ground, one with something white he couldn’t quite see and the other the tip of a blue crystal.  Fixated on the shifting ground, he tried to understand what he was looking at…

        Clive woke with a start.  The sight of grass pushing away the burned remnants of Rosaria clung to his memory.  He’d had that dream before, or one like it.  With any luck it was something from the Phoenix and not a prophetic dream of their future failures.  With any luck that wasn’t just wishful thinking either.  He tried to sit up, but a tight sting in his chest kept him in place.  That was certainly the feeling of new skin mending a wound.  He gently laid a hand across the bandages and tracked them down across his chest.  He scowled.  That never should have happened.  He knew better than to let idle threats into his head like that.  Well, what was done was done.  At least he’d survived it. 

        Trying once more to sit up, he pushed himself off the bed carefully, working around the protesting wound.  His head was swimming with the motion but he pushed through it anyway to look around the room.  It looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quite place it.  Two empty beds across from him, speckled granite walls, shelves of jars filled with bandages and liquids he couldn’t identify.  It had to be an infirmary.  The castle infirmary?  Beside him was another bed, this one occupied by Joshua, who seemed to still be sleeping.  That sparked his memory more than he would have liked.  While he had visited Joshua in this room many times in his youth, it was rare that Clive himself woke here.  He could just barely remember coming down with something when he was still young, before Joshua was even born, he thought, and having to stay in the infirmary for days.  It was one of the remarkably few times he ever remembered being sick.

        Ignoring all the aches and pains, he pulled his legs over the side of the bed.  He had to make sure all was well.  The last thing he remembered was the beach.  Clearly someone had gotten he and Joshua back to Rosalith, but much could have happened afterward.  It would only worry him not knowing.  Not to mention, where was Jill?  And Wade for that matter?  They’d been together.  As much as he hoped they were uninjured and simply had no need of the infirmary, the magnitude of what they had faced made the thought seem unlikely.  There was much to see to and no time to waste lying in bed.  His body would just have to get used to it again.

        “My lord marquess!”  A door across the room shut quietly behind a young girl with short brown hair.  There was something familiar about her.  “You ought not be out of bed yet, my lord.”  Swiftly crossing the room, she pressed firmly against his shoulders to try guiding him back toward his bed. 

        “Lady Jote?”  The similarities were there, certainly.  The pressure on his shoulders stopped in her surprise.

        “My name is Jote, yes.  I am an apprentice here.  While Master Lochlan is away, you are under my care.  As is the Phoenix.”  Her eyes shifted just slightly toward the bed behind her where Joshua lay.  “Now please, lay back.  You need rest.”

        “I’ll be fine, Lady Jote.  I need to know what has happened and what needs done.”  He pushed back against her hands a little but was afraid he might push too hard if he wasn’t careful. 

        “You need do nothing save rest.”

        “But—”

        “No buts.  You’ve been asleep the last four days.  I will not permit you to wander the castle when you have not even eaten.”  As if asked directly, his stomach growled loudly in agreement.  But Clive didn’t notice.

        “Days?  It’s been four days?”  The shock of that gave Jote more than enough opening to finish pushing him back onto the bed, though she at least allowed him to remain sitting.

        “Almost five, in truth.  You lost quite a bit of blood.  In addition to what we assume to have been an exhaustive use of aether, the vein in your arm was slit.  Although it was mended before it could become a danger, blood loss can be a dangerous problem which takes time to heal.”  Clive looked down at his bandaged arm.  Wade apparently hadn’t been exaggerating.  “Now if you will promise to stay still, I will fetch something for you to eat and send someone to inform the Archduke.  He has been worried sick.”

        Clive nodded softly, settling back against the wall behind him.  It was exceedingly rare that he spent so much time in the infirmary, and practically unheard of for him to sleep that long.  As an Imperial Bearer, they were lucky to visit an infirmary at all.  Some believed it to be the place you went to die rather than live given the kind of treatment administered there.  In the hideaway he barely allowed himself to sit still long enough to stitch his wounds.  In retrospect, he’d been lucky not to have need of a longer stay most of those years.  Of course, it had helped that he could heal himself to some small extent.  Now, though, he could feel it.  He could feel an exhaustion through his entire body that he’d frankly never known.  The closest he could think was stumbling back to Eistla after defeating Barnabas, but he’d thought that was more from absorbing Odin than the fight itself.  Clive was a Shield first and whatever else second; he’d always relied on sword before magic.  Until that night.  Is this how Joshua or Jill felt following him around?  Were they always struggling to keep up?  Founder, he hoped not.  Surely they would have told him.  No, actually, they wouldn’t.  He knew the answer the moment he had the question.  They wouldn’t want him worrying.  He’d need to keep a better eye out this time around to keep the strain off of them.  If they were lucky and he pulled enough of the weight, perhaps they could keep the curse from them both.

        Eventually Jote returned with some bread and a bowl of something that made his stomach growl again.  It felt a little odd having her watch over him.  She was, in his mind, Joshua’s attendant.  A kind soul, yes, but Joshua’s.  She set the tray down and handed him a piece of bread first, glancing over at Joshua once more.  Clive smirked.  Good to know she was still looking out for her charge after all.

        “Slowly,” she instructed when he took the bread.  When he nodded, she went to check on Joshua.

        “How is he?” he asked around a small bite.

        “He’s yet to wake, but he has no fever and his breathing is regular and steady.  I expect he will be fine.”

        “My brother can be quite the sleeper,” Clive joked.  He managed to keep down the worst of his remembered worries of days waiting in the hideaway for Joshua to recover his strength.  “More than once I’ve caught him asleep standing.  No idea how he does it.  I’m a little jealous, actually.”  A sound drew his eyes back to Jote to find her shoulders shaking and a hand pressed firmly to her lips in a poor attempt to hide her giggles.  “You need not hide it.  Half the residents of our hid—uh, the castle laughed too.”  Clive quickly focused back on his bread.  That was a slip he’d almost not caught in time.  As it was he could see her looking at him curiously in his periphery.

        “Might I ask something between ourselves, my lord?”  Clive barely kept from groaning.  One half-slip was all it would take?  If that were the case, she was far more perceptive than he’d known.

        “If you wish,” he murmured.

        “After he primes, do his shoulders hurt?”  That wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.  He hummed in thought, scanning through his memories of their travels together.

        “I believe so, now that you mention it.  Semi-primes as well.”  There was once, after a battle in an abandoned village on Ash, where Joshua had semi-primed that he noticed it.  In camp that night, he retrieved a salve of some kind to rub into his shoulders.  Clive was concerned, of course he was, but Joshua had waved him off. 

        “Have no fear, Brother.  This is not the work of the curse but most like my own mind.  The feathers oft feel like appendages which ought not be there and leave an ache when they’ve gone.  I’ve never grown accustomed to the feeling.”

        Before he could explain further or ask about the question, the infirmary door opened in a rush.  His father stood with hand on the door, relief flooding his eyes the moment he saw Clive.

        “Thank the Founder,” he breathed.  Across the floor in an instant, he had his arms around Clive gingerly.  “I feared the worst.” 

        “I’ll be alright, Father.  Overextended my abilities, that’s all.” Sitting back, Elwin looked him over, eyes tightening looking at the bandage across his chest.

        “That’s all, he says.”  Elwin huffed a laugh disapprovingly.  “I fear this is a bit more than overextended ability.”  Clive shrugged, his wound pulling just a bit.

        “It will heal.”

        “Sir Wade told us much.  Rosalith would not stand without your actions.” 

        “No,” he shook his head emphatically, “I merely played my part.  I would have accomplished little without him, Jill, and Joshua.  Where are they, anyway?”

        “Jill is assisting with a few things.  Carefully.  She could stand being in bed little better than you.  Wade is overseeing cleanup efforts from the battle.”

        “Jill does not surprise me, but I should have thought Wade had earned a rest after this.”  Jote appeared beside him, allowing him another piece of bread.  “Thank you.”

        “You may have the rest if this goes well.”  He nodded gratefully and she returned to Joshua’s side.  He nibbled on a bite and returned his attention to his father.

        “He did earn a rest, but he was rather insistent that the three of you have little to do when you woke.  His role is supervisory only.  The man can barely lift his axe into its sheathe.  I do not know what you did but it is clear you made an impression.” 

        “I was lucky he volunteered to assist.  I honestly do not know what might have happened without him.”  He took another bite, thinking as he chewed.  If he’d had to go it alone, particularly at the end, he almost certainly would have been forced to prime.  And that alone likely would have not only done irreparable damage to the surrounding area but also would have injured Uncle Byron and those with him.  That realization was enough to be extremely grateful for the assistance, more than he already was.  “Enough of that.  How fares things?”  Clive knew immediately that something had happened from the turn in his father’s demeanor. 

        “Our return was not without incident, I’m afraid.  There must have been Imperial support somewhere near Phoenix Gate.  They attacked the rear along the road to try freeing the prisoners.”  Clive exhaled heavily, allowing his head to fall back for a moment.  That would mean his mother was free to her own devices again.

        “Casualties?”

        “Two were killed and nine wounded.”

        “We will need to prepare for Mother’s avarice.  We should have some time while she gains enough standing to strike.  Perhaps a few years if we are lucky?  I doubt she will stay her hand long.  I should think she will strike out for Jo—”

        “Clive, enough.  I had intended to wait until you were better recovered, but I should have known you would not wait.  Your mother did not make it away.  She was killed in the attempt.”

        “She…”  Clive stared.  He opened his mouth to say something and found no words. 

        She was…

        They didn’t…

        Clive rubbed his eyes against the multitude of memories that lingered.  Memories that no longer had to become a reality.  It had always been their intent to stop her.  He had assumed a traitor’s execution awaited her so her death wasn’t a complete surprise.  But the relief was.  It was the first time he truly felt the weight of their actions here, even if this had not been theirs directly.  It had felt so small until now.  Their family, their friends, their country.  This action was far greater.  A marriage that would never happen.  A boy never born.  A man never driven to despair.  Ultima would not get his grip on Sanbreque through her. 

        “Clive?  Are you alright?”  He nodded through his daze.

        “Fine.  A bit in shock is all.”

        “Jill told Rodney and I the rest.”  Elwin looked at him pointedly to say what he could not aloud.  “I will admit my frustration when you and your brother chose silence, but now I can see the wisdom in that decision.  Had I heard of the cullings earlier I do not know that I would have delivered fair judgement.”

        “I’m glad you understand.  And that Jill explained.  I hope she took the news better than I.” 

        “Somewhat the same, actually.  She was so shocked she lost her balance and fell to the floor in my office.  Rodney was half out the door for the physicker before she stopped him.”  He looked at Clive with a sad frown, then looked over at Joshua.  “How were we so lucky to have you both become such exceptional men in spite of that woman?”

        “I think that largely thanks to you, in truth.”  Clive also looked over, finding Jote absent for the moment.  Lowering his voice, he continued.  “Once, you were taken from us far too soon but the impact you made on us both in the years together we had was unshakable.  In everything we did we hoped to live up to your legacy.”  That brought an honest smile to his father’s face.

        “Then I am grateful to whatever force returned you to me.”

        “Speaking of, we were not able to tell you of our adventure into the Apodytery before we left.”

        “The Apodytery?  You went down there?”

        “We did.  Together.  That force was the Phoenix.  Somehow it did this.”

        “What?  But why?”

        “We think out of love.  Joshua thinks it all insanity but even he cannot deny it.  We can share the details later.”  He glanced back toward the rest of the room again when he heard the office door open and Jote return.

        “I think you have done well enough for the rest of a meal,” she said kindly and handed him the bowl.  It had been a long time since Clive had been so glad for a bowl of simple porridge.  He nearly spilled it, though, when the infirmary door crashed open, startling them all to jumping.  Uncle Byron ran in, chest heaving.  He leaned his hands on his knees just to catch his breath.

        “Clive!” he gasped out.  “Thank the Founder.”

        “My lord, this is an infirmary,” Jote admonished.  “I must ask you to reign in your enthusiasm.”  Clive laughed around a mouthful of porridge, choking on it a little.  Jote, little as she was, stood with absolute authority of her domain.  She looked the image of Tarja with her hands on her hips and that glint in her eye that dared any to disagree with her.  Uncle Byron spluttered some kind of apology.  Only then did she allow him fully into the room.  His father gave him a questioning look, which he waved away.

        “Clive, my boy,” Byron said much more calmly, earning a nod of approval from Jote.  “How do you feel?”

        “A little surprised I’ve been here as long as I have.  But mostly hungry.  If you pardon my manners.”  Clive took another bite, to the laughter of his father.

        “You routed an army, my son.  I think a meal is the least you deserve.”

        “Elwin, enough!  The boy nearly got himself killed.  I feared this may happen one day.”  Byron looked at Clive solemnly and spoke with a grave tone he’d only heard on rare occasions.  A tone that he only used when deadly serious.  “Clive, your father is terribly proud of you for rising to First Shield so young, as we are all proud of you.  But it is time you heard this from someone and he clearly is not going to say it.  Follow Joshua and protect him.  That is your duty.  You need not try to match him.  We know that you will do everything in your power and that is all any can ask.  A Dominant can do things a mere man cannot.  We saw it often enough with our own father.  None could have matched him when he called upon the Phoenix.  Do not think you must.  Think of your own limits as a man.  We do not wish to see you injured or worse.  You both are too important to us for either of you to put yourselves under such strain.”

        Clive stared uncomprehendingly at his uncle, forgotten spoon half raised to his lips.  Try to match Joshua?  He was far too concerned about the precise opposite.  Joshua trying to match Clive’s power was a very legitimate threat, one that had already gotten him killed once by refusing to stay behind.  He looked between Byron and his father a couple of times trying to figure out what was going on until he realized: Uncle Byron had no idea he was a Dominant. 

        “You did not tell him?” he whispered.

        “I did not,” Elwin answered.  “We’ve told no one save young Jote there and her master.  That was only done for the betterment of your care.”  Clive peaked over to where Jote was stocking a shelf on the other side of the room.  She already knew?  She seemed to have taken it surprisingly well.  That explained the comment about aether use.  He was so accustomed to her knowing that he had thought nothing of it.

        “Elwin, you must stop encouraging the lad lest we find ourselves in this same position over and over again.”

        “Uncle, I can understand your caution, but I am a Dominant as well.  All three of us are.  Father never would have allowed us to attempt something like that otherwise.”

        “You say that as if I was given a choice in the matter,” Elwin protested.  “I believe Jill did say you were not asking permission.”

        “We’d good reason.”

        “That has not been a comfort these last four days.”

        “You are completely serious…”  Uncle Byron was gaping at them both, looking from one to the other in pure disbelief. 

        “Completely.  Mine is a second Eikon of fire.  It is an incredibly long story that I will, this once, admit I do not feel fully up to telling at the moment.  I assure you, I am not trying to keep up with the Phoenix.”  Byron stared at him a moment.  Then turned to his brother to stare, jaw working to say something but no sound escaping him.  Elwin nodded and that seemed to burst the dam.

        “You knew?!” he hissed.  “How long have you known?  Why would you not tell me?”

        “Calm yourself, Brother.  I have known less than a week.  I’ve not seen you to tell you and that is certainly not something I am committing to paper.”

        “You could not find a spare moment in the last four days to say something?”

        “If you have not noticed, I have been rather preoccupied trying to keep the duchy together in the face of treachery while praying to the Founder with every spare second that I did not send my children to their death!” That put a sobering end to Byron’s complaints, yet Clive found himself snickering into his bowl.

        “You’ve grown closer, haven’t you?” he said to his father, repeating the words he’d said several days ago.  His father gave him an odd look in return.  “I have no memory of ever seeing the two of you act as brothers like this.”  He rather liked it, if he was honest.  It was a side of his father he couldn’t remember, far beyond the legacy he tried to live up to.  And Uncle Byron always had this small shadow of guilt lingering just out of sight in the future, but now that was gone.  “I’m glad to see it.”  Elwin hung his head sadly, knowing precisely what Clive was talking about.  It lasted only a moment, though, before he turned his attention back to Byron.

        “I fear this is something we should not be doing in the infirmary.  Come, Brother.  Let’s allow Clive to get some rest and I will tell you a fantastical story.”

        “Try not to give too much away before we can join you, Father.”  Before he left, Elwin stepped over to Joshua’s bed, knelt down, and kissed him on the forehead, much the same as Clive had seen him do on a number of occasions when they were young.  “He’ll be alright, Father.  Most days I think he’s tougher than I.” 

        His father said nothing, but nodded in agreement.  With a final look back at them both, he ushered the still rather bewildered Byron outside.  Clive watched them leave, surprised to see Jill standing sheepishly by the door watching them go as well.  She half bowed as they passed out of respect, though it wasn’t quite the full bow he’d expected from her.  Although now that he thought about it, that may be his prior knowledge talking.  He had no idea how Jill would act around the Archduke now.  When the door closed softly, she approached his bed.  He set his bowl aside as she did, silently wishing he could go raid the larders himself. 

        “I couldn’t interrupt something like that,” she said softly.  Clive moved over to make room for her to sit beside him where he could wrap an arm around her, and she obliged without being asked. 

        “How long have you been standing there?”

        “Long enough to hear you admit you were tired.  I thought I could hear an entire alternate timeline stop to stare at those words.”  Clive groaned.  Jill giggled.

        “I will deny ever having said that.”

        “Who do you think Tarja would believe?  You or me?”

        “I think she would find the idea too impossible to believe even if it were you saying it.”

        “Not if I told her you fought off an invading army single handedly without priming.”

        “I did no such thing and you know it.”

        “Hm.  You’re right.  Only most of an invading army.”  Clive sighed and kissed her hair.

        “It’s a good thing I love you.”  Jill wriggled around to pull the blanket up over both of their legs and snuggled in closer to him.

        “I was worried about you too,” she whispered.  “I’ve never known you to sleep so long.  I begged the Archduke for something to do as a pure distraction.”  Clive let out a long breath.

        “I’m sorry I worried you.  Again.  I seem to be making it a habit of late.  I did not know it was possible for me to go so far beyond my limits.”  He wanted to ask if this was common for her, but he couldn’t find the right words without starting what would surely be an argument over her health.  So he focused on something else.  “Are you well?  Were you injured?”

        “Nothing of note.  Tired.  I was not primed so long as Joshua but keeping the ice pillars standing was taxing.”

        “Would that I could have done it for you.  We would not have succeeded without them, though.”  He yawned suddenly.  He could deny it all he wished, but he was still very tired.

        “I should let you rest.”  Clive tightened his arm around her shoulders when she tried to pull away, shaking his head. 

        “I’m fine.  I would rather hear of what the Archduke found for you to do.”  Jill paused, but settled back in.  With her firmly where he wanted her, he leaned his head back against the wall.  She sighed a little and took up his left hand, massaging her thumb against his palm.

        “It was nothing exciting.  In fact it was practically nothing for a long while.  I had to beg to allow me to do anything at all…”  Jill described her day of sorting papers and helping with some delivery, though the servants were none too keen to allow her to help for the exact same reasons as the Archduke.  Clive only heard about half of what she had to say, though, falling asleep to the gentle sound of her voice. 

        Jill smiled when his breathing slowed and his arm slid off her shoulders.  The most difficult way to get Clive Rosfield to actually rest was to suggest or demand he do so.  However, she learned long ago that if she spoke to him of inane things to make him feel safe and unburdened, to express that the world still turned without him for a while, he would always nod off.  And that was precisely what he needed right now.  The castle and duchy would function without him, despite what he might think.  For once, he could rest easy.

Chapter Text

        The next morning Clive was released from the infirmary…is what anyone who asked him would be told.  In reality he released himself after Jill was kind enough to fetch a shirt for him from his room.  He did make sure she had been gone a while before enacting his escape, though.  Wouldn’t want her taking any of the blame.  Clive was quite finished lying around.  There was undoubtedly work that needed doing somewhere and he intended to seek it out even if it was just holding a laundry basket for the line.

        He slipped through the halls he could barely remember how to traverse, trying to ignore the curtsies and bows from servants.  He’d smile, nod, and pretend it hadn’t happened the instant he pressed on.  Founder, how he hated that.  Even the first time.  Never had he thought himself exceptional enough to warrant that kind of behavior from anyone.  Archduke’s son he may be, but he was functionally no different from anyone else.  The only claim to status he allowed himself was that of First Shield.  He’d earned that by his own hand and it did not warrant bows or curtsies.  After years as an outlaw, his distaste for it had only grown.  Alas, there was no way to stop it either.  How he longed for the hideaway sometimes.

        His steps, which he had to backtrack once when he forgot a corridor, carried him straight towards his father’s office.  That was the most likely place he would be found and the most likely place to find a direction of…something.  He was about to step into the throne room with the intent to use it as a shortcut when he heard Torgal yipping and running toward him from within.  He knelt to catch the pup, who surprisingly hit him square in the chest hard enough to knock him over.

        “Torgal, you have got to stop finding the most painful places to stand,” he groaned.  Torgal didn’t seem to care much, being far more interested in licking Clive all over.

        “Had I known you planned to slip away from the infirmary, I would have been more hesitant to retrieve a shirt for you.”  Clive winced at the sound of Jill’s voice.  Even Torgal relented in his tireless greeting at the sound, seeming to intuitively understand his master was in trouble.  Clive sat up holding him.  Jill was watching from the doorway with crossed arms and a stern frown.

        “I’m sorry, Jill.  But five days?  How long am I to lie around doing nothing?  I’m fine.”

        “For most people I would say that waking from a four-day slumber and trotting off a mere twelve hours later is not the path to recovery.  And were you anything like a normal person, I would force you right back to bed.”  She sighed and allowed her arms to fall.  “I also should have seen this coming.  I know how futile that exercise would be.  Come along, then.  You may wish to steel yourself.”  Clive stood, looking at Torgal as if he could possibly explain.

        “For what?”  Jill only walked ahead of him with a mischievous grin.

        Clive was set to ask again when they entered the throne room.  Every thought vanished completely at what he saw.  The entire room was covered in baskets, bundles, parcels, boxes, and wrapped items.  Half a dozen servants were trying to organize it all.  There were bundles of flowers, boxes piled high with bread, baskets of fruit and vegetables of all kinds, and plenty more beyond.  Clive had never seen such a thing.  Before he could ask, one of the servants looked up and caught his eye.  After a very brief moment of surprise, she broke into an excited smile.

        “It’s the lord marquess!” she shouted, her long braid trailing behind as she ran forward.  All work instantly halted as each one of them looked his direction to clap or cheer or simply smile.  Cries of “the lord marquess is awake!” spread quickly to all corners within the castle and without.  As fast as he could hear the news traveling, he was certain it would reach the city within the hour.

        “Jill?” he asked slowly, trying not to scowl at her laughter lest the servants think he was scowling at them.  The servant who first saw him curtsied and thanked him for saving them.  Another right behind her bowed with a comment on his bravery.

        “Apparently this is because of us,” Jill explained with a gesture to the gifts.  “When they brought us home, it got around that we had fought a battle and had been injured in the process.”  An older servant wrapped Clive up in a hug and kissed his cheek.  “Ever since gifts from the people have been pouring in, both in gratitude and wishes for our recovery.  I’ve been helping keep it all under control.  There really is an endless stream.”  Each one of the nearby servants somehow gave their regards to Clive.  Most murmured words about how grateful they were he’d recovered.

        “Thank you,” he finally managed to force out awkwardly to them all.  “This is a bit overwhelming, but thank you all the same.”  A couple of the older ones smiled knowingly and herded the others back to work.  One older servant, the one who had hugged him, returned with a basket in hand.  He knew her, now that he got a good look.  Older, graying hair, hooked nose.  What was her name?  Liza?

        “I expect your father will be happy to see you, young lord.  Here.  Take this basket with you.  Sleeping that long is bound to leave a growing lad like you hungry.”  Well, she wasn’t wrong.  He’d just kind of ignored it in the midst of his escape.

        “Thank you, Liza.”  He took the basket gratefully.  He did remember her now.  She’d taken care of him in his youth.

        “Go on, now.  It won’t do to keep the Archduke waiting.  Go with him, Lady Jill.  We can handle this.”

        After a quick curtsey, she went back to work sorting through the ridiculous number of gifts.  Clive waited only until he was out of sight to rifle through the basket.  It was filled with cheese and rolls stuffed with sausage.  There was even a glass bottle with some kind of drink in it.  Clive had the sudden suspicion Liza had packed this just for him while his attention was on everyone else.  That kind of thoughtfulness seemed like what he remembered of her.  He felt bad he could remember so little.  He handed a roll to Jill, pulled one out for himself, and tossed Torgal a small piece of cheese.

        “Did Father tell no one I had recovered?” he asked, still a little in shock over the display.  Jill lifted a dubious eyebrow at the word recovered, but she chose to ignore it.

        “No.  He has been preoccupied with other matters and anyone could see how worried he was.  I think everyone has been giving him space as much as they can.” 

        “Did they give you the same kind of reception as me?”  She blushed a little.

        “Not quite so grand, but yes.  A few were quite upset that I had fought.”

        “They had best grow accustomed to it.  It wouldn’t do to leave my partner behind for want of societal propriety.”

        “As if you could leave me behind.”

        “I would never dream of it, my lady.”

        Nibbling on his roll, he trotted up the stairs towards his father’s office.  Already he felt better just from the small snack.  Perhaps he should not have ignored his stomach after all.  He would have to thank Liza again when he saw her.  That said, he tried very hard not to look over the banister as they walked.  That was far more attention than he was used to receiving here.  It was more than he got in the hideaway too, really.  It would have been easier with Joshua beside him.  At least that way he could pretend it was really all for his brother and Jill, the known Dominants of Rosaria.  With some difficulty he pushed the welcome to the furthest corners of his mind and knocked on the office door.

        “Enter.”

        “Your Grace,” he said respectfully as he opened the door just in case anyone was with his father.  Lord Murdoch was the only other one in the room.

        “Clive!” his father called, quickly standing in surprise.  “Should you be up and about so soon?”

        “Well, I don’t think I’d like to fight anything at the moment, but barring that, I’m fine.”  He was already starting to get tired of saying that.  “I just want to do something.  I’m sure there are many things that need addressed.”  His father looked him up and down, seemingly trying to decide what to do.  “Please?  Honestly, Father, I will just go find something to do myself if you would prefer.”  At that he let out the same resigned sigh Jill had earlier. 

        “Very well.  There is one thing I think you may be uniquely suited to help us with, which fortunately requires only words.  Rodney.  Would you fetch Sir Tyler, please?”

        She ran down the road, stumbling over nothing, barely keeping up with the knights trying to spirit her away from what would undoubtedly be her death.  Away to a place where she could be a useful advantage.  He squeezed the trigger of the crossbow, heard the faintest, squeaking exhale from her body and watched her fall to the ground.  The knights ran on without her, never looking back.

        Every time Tyler closed his eyes he saw it.  It replayed in his mind over and over and over and over until he thought he would go mad from the vision and yet still it played on.  The moment he executed the duchess himself.  The moment he took the life of one of the very people he was supposed to protect with his own.  Was there ever a Shield who turned their weapon on a Rosfield?  He might well be the first.

        He didn’t remember much after she fell.  He remembered the ground suddenly being much closer than it had been and Lord Murdoch calling his name.  It was hazy and blurred, but he somewhat remembered seeing a lot of people rushing about around him a few times throughout the night before the darkness inevitably claimed him once more.  He could only tell the passage of time because the background was different in those few memories.  The only thing that stayed the same was that blasted vision of the duchess falling.

        Lord Murdoch had forbidden him from speaking of it to others.  Tyler assumed that was so that they could announce his actions at a more favorable time.  He’d known when he made the choice that there would be consequences.  It annoyed him more that the Lord Commander and even the Archduke himself had been to see him, acting like all was well and they were simply concerned for his health.  They didn’t need to pretend everything was alright with him.  He already knew.  Now he just wished they would stop stalling and get to it already, whatever his fate ended up being. 

        The physicker told him Wade had been there at some point, but Tyler hadn’t been awake.  She had overheard him admitting he was worried and felt guilty for not being there.  A kind thought, but it was best they weren’t both mixed up in this.  Tyler’s sister, Valerie, had also checked up on him.  This time he’d been awake for it.  He’d tried to be as hospitable as possible just to keep the worry from her eyes, though he wasn’t sure how successful he’d been.  The only thing going for him was that Valerie was a talker and was more than happy to tell him everything about anything.  Half of it was gossip and rumor, of course, but it had taken his mind off things for a few minutes at least.  How he hoped his actions wouldn’t come back on her or the rest of his family.  The Archduke likely wouldn’t go that far.  That gave him some comfort.  Elwin Rosfield was nothing if not fair and he knew exactly why Tyler made the choice; it had nothing to do with his family.  One concern he could tick off his list. 

        What action would the Archduke take?  Stripped of his status as a Shield, most assuredly.  That pained him more than anything else.  He’d worked hard to get as far as he did.  Being a Shield was his entire life.  That was his only goal, the earliest decision he could remember making.  Would he be exiled from Rosaria, too?  Imprisoned for assassination?  Executed himself?  Tyler knew the likelihood of Annabella being executed for treason upon returning to Rosalith.  They had all been witness to her treachery.  There was little chance she would be spared.  But that trial had never happened.  Traitor or not, she was still Rosarian, still a Rosfield, still the duchess and she should have been given her fair trial.  Her moment to stand before the people to at least try to defend herself.  The people should have had their moment to look the traitor in the eye.  That was proper justice.  He didn’t regret what he did.  He would always make that choice.  Every time he would make that choice to protect Rosaria from whatever she may have planned.  Every time he would take the consequences of those actions.  Because no matter what the Lord Commander and the Archduke said to him here in the infirmary, there had to be consequences for taking such unilateral action.  The fact that it was his only option did not make it right.

        Tyler looked up when the infirmary door opened, admitting the Lord Commander himself.  He stopped to speak with the physicker quietly for a moment, though Tyler couldn’t hear what they said.  Maybe if he was lucky this waiting could finally end.  Much longer stuck in here with naught but his thoughts and he might start begging them to do something.  Anything.  Just stop this loop he found himself so trapped in.  As luck would have it, Lord Murdoch did approach his bed when he finished his conversation.

        “Tyler.  How are you feeling?”

        “A bit stir-crazy, in truth, Lord Commander.”

        “Fortunate, then, that I’ve been sent to fetch you.  If you feel up for a stroll, the Archduke has asked for you.”

        Finally.  Tyler hardened his expression, knowing something was about to happen. 

        “This wound is wreaking havoc with my balance, but I believe I can make it, my lord.”

        They walked slowly through the castle toward the Archduke’s office.  The Lord Commander lent him an arm or a hand when he had need of it, which was more often than he would have liked.  He could not delay this any longer, however.  So after what was probably the longest trek he’d ever taken through the castle, they finally arrived at the reception room beside the office.  Confused but ready, he opened the door.  Only the lord marquess was in the room, however, adding to his confusion.

        “By the flames!” he exclaimed upon seeing Tyler.  “They didn’t tell me they were fetching you straight from the infirmary.  Are you alright?”  He gave a small nod but found he couldn’t look him in the eye.

        “I am, my lord.”

        “Here, let’s get you a seat.”  Tyler heard swift footfalls approach and saw a hand reach for him before the Lord Commander cleared his throat loudly.

        “Are your wounds healed, Clive?  Enough to be helping a grown man walk?”

        “Of course they are.”  The telltale hitch in his voice was fooling no one.  The Lord Commander hummed, catching the lie as well, and the lord marquess sighed loudly, backing away grumbling.  Tyler didn’t need that much help anyway.

        “Give us the room, please, my lord,” the lord marquess said once Tyler was seated.  And just like that, only two remained.  An uncomfortable silence drew out between them, broken by a soft whine from Torgal who was now sitting in front of Tyler.  The pup cocked his head at him and Tyler was certain he must be worse off than he thought because he could swear this hound was asking him if he was alright.  “He’ll be fine, Torgal.”  So the lord marquess was also completely mad.

        “Sometimes I think he understands everything we say,” Tyler commented, finally looking up.  The lord marquess smiled softly and took a seat, scratching his shoulder around a bandage just barely visible when his shirt moved.  Tyler couldn’t help but wonder what had happened that night.  No one had told him much.

        “He does, in his own way.  He spent thirteen years looking for me after Phoenix Gate and stayed with me every step of the way afterward.  No average hound could have withstood that.  We eventually discovered he was a frost wolf with abilities far beyond what you might expect.”  He smiled at Torgal, then looked up suddenly with a very serious expression.  “They tell me you were the one to shoot the duchess.”  Tyler had expected some kind of something, but the sudden change in tone caught the air in his throat. 

        “I…I did.  You told us of the Black Shields and her reign when you recruited us in the marshes.  I saw her running and made a rash decision.”  The lord marquess exhaled a long breath while Tyler held his own.

        “Thank the fucking Founder I told you that much,” he said fervently.  Tyler’s head shot up so fast he got dizzy.   Was that…relief he saw? 

        “I…  What?” 

        “Would you like to know why she betrayed us all?”  Without waiting for an answer, he stood and paced slowly to the window, looking out over the gardens like he was seeing something else.  “She told me everything as her world collapsed and she realized she had nothing left.  A child.  She sacrificed us all for want of a stronger child.  That she might join her line with the Lesage’s, and birth a savior of this benighted land, blessed by both Bahamut and the Phoenix.  Her exact words, try though I might to forget them.”  The lord marquess clasped his hand into a fist tightly at the memory.  Then he released it to continue speaking as if that small action kept his anger at bay.  “A few years after Rosaria fell to the Empire and she was appointed as vicereine, she married the emperor and bore him the son she so desired.  That, it seemed, was when the cruelty began.  Here in Rosaria, she was an indifferent, uncaring ruler at best.  At worst, she was tyrannical, ruling with a tight grip of fear produced by her villainous Black Shields.  At her behest, they rid the province of Bearers with mass executions.  All those who protested her rule, or she believed stood against her, she sent the Black Shields after as well. 

        “In Sanbreque, she constantly manipulated those with the ear of the emperor, slowly turning him to seek more territory in a bid to control all of the Twins so her son could rule over it all.  It came to a head in Twinside.  Dion, the emperor’s eldest, began a coup to rid Sanbreque of both Mother’s influence and her son’s.  But it all went wrong.  This son was Ultima’s all along.  Between his machinations and Mother’s, Dion inadvertently killed his father.  In his grief, Ultima pulled Bahamut out of him to rampage around the city.  Joshua and I were barely able to stop him, though not before many lives were lost.”  The lord marquess shook his head and rubbed his eyes, looking back towards Tyler, who was barely breathing. 

        “You are relieved,” he murmured.  It was true.  He could see it written all over his face.  The lord marquess nodded and returned to his seat.

        “Forgive me if relief seems the inappropriate reaction to my own mother being killed.  I saw how Rosaria withered, barely clinging to life under her rule.  I saw their fear.  I saw her cullings and the bodies of Bearers left tied to posts as a warning to others.  I saw how many died in Twinside and the guilt Dion carried afterward.  And it was all because of her ridiculous obsession with standing and breeding.  Because Joshua being sickly reflected poorly upon her.”

        “I see, now.  You wish to absolve me of my actions with what you know the duchess to have done.” 

        “If it works,” he shrugged.  “We always meant to tell the truth of it once it was over anyway.  Joshua, Jill, and I, we do not wish to judge people now based on what we know them to have done in the future.  Had she made it here, she would have stood trial for what she did do, not what she would have done.”

        “And therein lies the problem that it would seem only I am concerned with.  While I would make the same choice a hundred times over, I chose to end her life there rather than allow her that trial.”

        “She would not have stood trial had she escaped either.”

        “There were diplomatic options.”  Tyler’s patience was running thin.  “How can I be the only one to see the problem here?” he snapped.  “None of you seem concerned that I chose to kill one of the very people I am sworn to protect!  That I chose to take the life of someone who should have stood trial!  Proper justice should have been carried out rather than my rash actions, justified or not!  Without that it was little short of murder!”  Tyler could feel the heat in both his words and his expression but he was tired of their excuses, tired enough to pay no attention to the fact that he had just raised his voice to the Archduke’s son. 

        “And I should be dead eighteen years from now,” the lord marquess deadpanned.  That certainly threw cold water on Tyler’s heated frustrations.  What was he supposed to say to that?  “Sir Tyler, I understand.  We all wanted this to play out the way it should have.  Trial, announcements, defenses, sentences, all of it.  But life does not always give us the easiest choices.  This is war, if not in so many words.  Sometimes we have only a bad choice and a worse one.  You fought in the north.  I know you know that.  While my mother’s path to tyranny most like would have taken a different path, I guarantee it would have happened in one way or another.  That is why I tell you of that tyranny.  It would have affected thousands across multiple countries had she escaped.  I have no doubt of that.  You need not take comfort in what you prevented if you do not wish, but make no mistake that in some way, war would have been upon us had she gone free.  That is why we all agree with your choice.”

        That didn’t make it right.  That didn’t mean there would be no consequences.  Life wasn’t like that.  There had to be something, some ramification of pulling that trigger.  Didn’t there?  He hadn’t thought of it like war.  He hadn’t really known enough of what would come that he could have.  War still had rules; it had to.  But war always meant standing between an attacker and your home.  He had protected Rosaria and Sanbreque both, in a way.  If the lord marquess was right.  And he lived it, so why wouldn’t he be?  There was an uncomfortable question Tyler had to ask himself in this moment, one that might, depending on the answer, change the way he looked at the entire situation.  Had this happened in the north when they were at war years ago, had he taken the chance to shoot one of their chiefs, would he still blame himself?  Would he still look for or expect retribution?  Or would he consider it a necessary act to prevent further bloodshed because that is surely what that war would lead to.  Tyler became a Shield to protect Rosaria by protecting the ducal family.  She was a part of that family.  Or was she?  Maybe Annabella had stopped being a part of both that family and Rosaria the moment she conspired with Sanbreque.  That made her the enemy, no different from a northern chieftan during the war.

        “I learned something from a friend,” the lord marquess continued after allowing Tyler to mull things over in silence for a while.  “As Shields, we swear the same oaths, to shield the Firebird’s flames.  But Rosaria’s flames are more than the Phoenix itself.  Every one of us carries a spark of those flames we hold so dear.  Those sparks are worth protecting.  Shields don’t just protect Joshua or Father.  They should protect everyone.  You chose to protect the flames of Rosaria that day so that our people can make their own choices and not live in fear of someone they should look up to.  I greatly respect that, even is she was, unfortunately, my mother.”  The Flames of Rosaria being carried in the hearts of the people.  That was a beautiful concept.  New and different, but beautiful. 

        “That’s quite an interesting idea.  May I ask who this friend was?” he found himself asking.  The lord marquess smirked.

        “I would consider him a friend of yours as well.  It was Sir Wade, albeit eighteen years older.”  Tyler started in surprise, apparently obviously enough to be noticed.  “What?”

        “Wade survived Phoenix Gate?”

        “Did Joshua not tell you that night?  Of the seven of us, only one walked away with both life and freedom.  Once the Empire took over, he rallied the remaining Shields and went into hiding to push back against the invaders.  They knew they could never hope to remove the Empire, but they made them work for their conquest nonetheless.  When the cullings began, they did their best to keep Bearers and those who harbored them safe.  I had thought the duchy completely lost until I met Wade and the others.  But Rosaria will never truly die so long as that spark is alive in someone.  Were I to hazard a guess, I should think that spark is also alive and well within you if you care to find it.”

        So.  That was how they could all overlook his actions.  Duty to the people superseded due process.   Had he been wrong to think there would be consequences?  Maybe he just hadn’t been thinking straight.  Now that he was presented with this, he had to wonder how he hadn’t seen it before.  Probably because it seemed a convenient excuse.  He took his oaths seriously and as a result he couldn’t remove Annabella from the ducal family.  He couldn’t see beyond it.  Maybe it would be alright to find that spark of Rosarian flame within himself.  If he was worthy of carrying it.

        “Thank you, my lord,” he finally admitted.  “I think I needed to hear that.  I still do not think it the right thing to have done, but the alternative was unbearable.”  He paused, his self-deprecation finally giving way to something else.  Curiosity, at the moment.  “Might I ask a question?” 

        “You needn’t ask.  Of course you may.”

        “Did your mother ever find out who you truly were?  The Eikons, the god, any of it?” 

        “No.  She saw me prime once to fight Bahamut, but...  That day was the first time I saw my brother in eighteen years.  In light of that, I didn’t even glance her direction.  After it was all over, Joshua tried to bring her with us to safety.  Something broke within her when she saw him.  She thought him dead until that exact moment.  She could not see him, living, reaching out to her.  By that point she’d nothing left save those she abandoned.  Rather than go with the specter she thought stood before her, she slit her throat.”

        “So she never stood trial for anything.”  The lord marquess hummed in thought.

        “She did not.  In truth there was little left to judge her by that point.  Sanbreque was in shambles and took with it Rosaria and the Crystalline Dominion.  Ultima also did something after Drake’s Tail collapsed.  The skies darkened, aether floods ran rampant, akashic creatures attacked.  The people were too busy trying to survive to worry about justice.”

        “So much chaos…” Tyler whispered. 

        For perhaps the first time, he realized exactly what they were trying to prevent on a wider scale being back here.  They had spoken of the Mothercrystals and Ultima, of course, but not the chaos and hardship that came with it.  The full story had waited for later because the rest was so earth-shattering, something Tyler was rather grateful for at the time.  He now realized, though, that this was only the beginning.  The duchy was safe, or relatively so.  At some point the rest of Valisthea would need these three.  When that happened, what would become of Rosaria?  Would they lose everything they’d gained here?  At that moment, Tyler had a thought.  That when the world needed their Dominants, when the world needed Rosaria’s flames (and now ice as well), it would fall to others to protect those sparks at home.  And he was willing to be one of those guardians.  He needed to be one of those guardians.  Even if he didn’t know what that might mean yet, the lord marquess had trusted him at a pivotal moment.  That choice changed his life.  How could he walk away from it all and still call himself a Shield? 

        “My lord?  I know not what the future may hold for any of us.  I only know that you, your brother, and Lady Jill will do all you can when you are needed.  I can see that in each of you.  I wish to aid you, insofar as I am able.  I would not see Rosaria returned to the state of those memories you hold.  Not when you sacrificed so much to save it.”  The lord marquess smiled, stood, and extended a hand to him.

        “That, Sir Tyler, is precisely what I hoped you would say.”

Chapter Text

        In the end Tyler apologized to Lord Murdoch and the Archduke several times each for his blind stubbornness.  Apparently, he had been torturing himself over the incident for days, just waiting for the other shoe to fall.  Elwin had told Clive he was in rough shape and that hopefully he could talk some sense into him as a Shield, but he hadn’t expected this.  Maybe they should have been more open about his mother earlier, at least to Tyler.  Perhaps he might not have felt the need to expect fallout.  As far as Clive was concerned, he did exactly what needed to be done and he was glad for it.  Lord Murdoch and the Archduke were just glad Tyler seemed to be hearing them now rather than writing off their words.  He was too valuable an ally to lose.

        Now Clive sat in his room quietly, trying to sort through things himself.  Just over a week had they been here.  A week.  They had scarcely had a chance to breathe let alone truly process what was happening.  Everything they had done was to save Rosaria and those they loved.  Clive groaned and fell back onto the sofa, stretching out with his arm over his eyes.  Just over a week here and he’d spent four entire days of it unconscious in the infirmary.  He was still stunned by that fact.  He had a lot of work to do before he was ready to face Ultima again.  Luckily they should have time.  Unless he figured out more than Clive wanted from events at Phoenix Gate.  There was no way to know that without Ultima taking action, though.

        Events the last time began that day in the Nysa Defile.  Everything felt like it happened so fast after that.  It wasn’t really, he knew, but after thirteen years with nothing, it felt like barely keeping a grip on a wild chocobo’s back as it ran through the marshes at breakneck speeds.  Looking back on it, taking Garuda was when Ultima’s sight probably fell on him fully.  Well, he didn’t need to take Garuda now.  Could that also buy them some time?  No matter how he looked at it, it seemed likely they had years to do…something.  He would have to retrain his body to properly wield his power, but what else in the intervening years?  Were they to sit here waiting?  Constantly looking for Ultima’s veiled presence in everything?

        Rain pattered on the windows outside, the sound seeming too loud in the uncomfortable quiet of his room.  He was so tired that first day it hadn’t bothered him.  Now it felt strange without the constant hum of activity he’d grown accustomed to in the hideaway.  The castle was well built and sound even from the throne room didn’t carry like it did there.  The only thing to hear was the rain, the wind growing in strength, the rumble of thunder in the distance, and the constant churning of his own thoughts.  Maybe they should try to unite the Dominants?  That would probably work in some cases.  Barnabas was a lost cause he wouldn’t even attempt to sway.  Kupka made him angry to think about, but perhaps there was potential.  Benedikta would be complicated with Cid, and he definitely would find Cid eventually.  Clive just wished he knew a better way to look for him than either going to Waloed, which was a terrible plan, or waiting until he finally showed up at the original hideaway.  That left Dion.  Best leave that to Joshua; he’d already persuaded him once.  So Clive still was no closer to finding a way forward.  He laid there going round in circles, not noticing the fire in the hearth had long gone out, until dark had fallen, lit only by occasional lightning arcs across the sky.  Then he heard a knock on his door.

        “Clive?” Jill called, pushing the door open enough to peak inside.  “Are you awake?”  He sat up and flicked his hand to relight the fire.

        “I am.”  Jill entered and shut the door behind her.

        “Were you really?  Or were you simply laying about in the dark?”

        “Thinking.”  He saw her hesitate as if thinking to leave before stopping herself and walking closer. 

        “You missed dinner.  Your father was worried.”  Lifting her hands, he noticed the basket she carried.  “I told him I’d check on you.  I thought you might still be hungry so I brought some more gifts.  Founder knows there’s plenty.”  Clive swallowed nervously thinking about the praise again. 

        “I had almost convinced myself that had been a dream.”  Jill laughed.  Setting her basket beside him, she turned her attention to the rest of the room and almost instantly stopped to frown.

        “Wait.  I remember this.  It’s…”  She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, took a step towards the window, stopped, then whirled to reach under his bed.  Tugging at something, she grinned triumphantly at the long, flat box she’d pulled from the depths.  “I knew I could remember where your quilts were.”

        “You were always cold in here.”

        “Because you were always too warm for your own good.”  They looked at one another for a moment, realization of what it all probably meant setting in, and burst out laughing at the memory.  After a moment, Jill’s laughter faded into huffed exasperation as she looked into the box.  “Really, Clive?”

        “What?”  She held up a book.

        “This has to be the most obvious place to ever hide something.”  Clive’s brow furrowed in confusion.

        “I have no memory of putting that there.  What even is it?”  He crossed over to where she knelt, leaning in close to look at the tome better.  He had a faint memory of that book.  Something about a knight and the woman he loved and…okay, that was about all he remembered.  “Why would I be hiding that?  I don’t remember much of the book, but it was nothing sordid, was it?”

        “I don’t think so.  I think I didn’t care for it, if I remember correctly.  The love interest was so dull.  No, were I to guess, I would say that you just did not want anyone to know that deep down, you are a hopeless romantic.”  If there was a way to stop a blush that heated one’s entire face, Clive would have loved to know that trick at the moment.  How did she still get the better of him after everything?

        “Do not blame me for what I did at fifteen,” he mumbled.  Jill pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and stood, pulling him to his feet after.  Thankfully she left the book behind.  She led him back to the fireplace and spread the blanket on the floor.  Placing the basket in the center, she sat down on the quilt and gestured beside her.

        “What were you thinking about so intently all afternoon?” she asked quietly.  Clive sat down with his back leaning against the sofa.  It was unconventional in a castle, but this felt right.  Normal.  The hard ground, a fire, just he and Jill.  All that was missing was Torgal.  He wasn’t quite sure where the wolf was at the moment, actually.  He’d stayed with Jill earlier. 

        “Trying to figure out where we go from here,” he admitted.  “Everything we’ve done has been a reaction to what we already knew.  Now that ends and I am unsure what that should mean.”

        “It seems daunting, doesn’t it?”  Clive nodded solemnly. 

        “If I spent so long in the infirmary after this, I cannot hope to challenge even Barnabas, let alone Ultima himself.  Nor would I want to just yet.  But if Ultima moves first…”  That was his greatest fear, Ultima forcing his hand before he was ready.

        “You’re afraid you won’t be strong enough to withstand him.” 

        “You always could read me too easily.”  He leaned his head back against the sofa wearily.  “I just wish I knew what to do now while I try to prepare myself for that inevitable encounter,” he murmured.  All of the Twins was open to him and he had no idea what to do with it save preparing for the moment Ultima showed himself.  That didn’t seem like the best use of his time.

        “Do you remember when we got back from Drake’s Head?  The hideaway was in chaos.  So many were dead.  We were barely holding ourselves together.”

        “Not a sight I could soon forget, I think.”  Coming back without Cid should have been the worst part of that day.  No one ever expected Titan to show in the middle of the Deadlands.  No one knew that was even possible without ambient aether.  It had been hard not to blame himself for it after he found out what Kupka’s revenge had been about all along; there had simply been no saving Benedikta Harman, with or without Ifrit’s lack of control.

        “Everything was in shambles and they all looked to us for answers we didn’t have.  Because we were Dominants or because we’d been with Cid I never really knew.  It all could have collapsed in that one moment.  And I thought it might.  I truly did.  Then you disappeared for a while.”  He remembered that, too.  No one had ever looked to him for much of anything.  There had always been someone above him, someone with more knowledge or experience or rank.  Why were they looking at him?  Why did they expect him to have answers?  He was just a traitor First Shield, an Imperial deserter, and an impossible Dominant that couldn’t control his own Eikon.  It had been too much too fast.  He hadn’t been able to think, hadn’t been able to breathe.  So he walked away just so he could.  “Did you know I followed you?”

        “Y-you did?”  She nodded and propped her chin on her pulled-up knee.

        “I meant to say something.  I don’t even remember what now.  Instead I saw you holding that Phoenix feather, tears streaming down your cheeks.  You were happy.  It was the first real smile I’d seen from you since we were reunited.  I never knew exactly what changed, but you were different when you came back.  You told everyone that we could rebuild.  All we needed was one step at a time.  One day at a time.  I think that was the moment everyone looked to you for answers.  You gave them some sense of security.  I hadn’t seen that from you since Rosalith.”

        “I was overwhelmed,” he confessed softly.  “That feather, though, was proof that he lived.  I knew he had not sat idle all those years.  He would never.  So long I had wallowed in hatred and vengeance.  Joshua gave me the strength to stand and to move forward.”  Remembering the feather he had found in the Apodytery, he pulled it out of his tunic.  Someone had made sure it stayed with him through everything and he was immensely grateful to whomever it was.  Even if this wasn’t the feather he carried for so long, still having one next to his heart felt like a tether to his family.  “If he had not been idle, I could not be either.  Growing up he withstood the looks of being the Phoenix and the heir with nary a complaint.  I knew I would never be able to face him if I could not do the same when people needed me.  I had to be better than I was.”

        “We’ll get through this the same way.  One step at a time and one day at a time.”

        “And we are far from alone.”

        “You know we have not had the chance for you to explain what you found in the Apodytery.  I’m a little surprised at you both for going.  Did you really do this like Joshua said?”  Clive sighed, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

        “No, I did not.”  He told her everything about the Apodytery.  Why Joshua had wanted to go, what they saw, the conclusions they’d drawn.  “None of it makes any rational sense.  Then again, little of our lives has, I suppose.”

        “So the Phoenix wished to save those who loved it.  I understand Joshua and yourself, but I was in no danger.  Why would it bring me as well?”  Clive looked at the feather like it might part with answers to questions he hadn’t thought to ask.  In his joy to see Jill by his side once more, he never thought about why she might be here.  Not that they’d had much time to think on the Apodytery after they returned from the depths.  Still, she had a point.  He spun the feather between his fingers as he had hundreds of times when he desperately searched for answers from Joshua this mere token could never provide.

        “Strength,” he murmured.  He didn’t know where the word came from; it just appeared on his lips.

        “Clive?”  He started at the sound of Jill’s voice.  Blinking back the afterimage of the glowing feather, he stuck it back into his tunic.

        “Perhaps it knew we would need your help.  I think it was not trying to save only Joshua and myself but all of us.  I think it wanted to keep Rosaria from falling to such a difficult fate at the hands of Mother and the Empire.”

        “Then we know what to do next, do we not?”  Clive looked to her with questioning gaze.  Jill looked back with hope, something he did not see often in her eyes.  “We have to break the Mothercrystals.  The Archduke knows this.  We were speaking of it before the Ironblood arrived.  And we have all lived in the deadlands.”  He wasn’t quite following.  Yes, that would help when the time came, but that would be years.  “Clive, we don’t have to wait.  What if we can lessen Rosaria’s dependence on magic and crystals before we bring down the Mothercrystals?”  It suddenly clicked into place, and Jill’s smile widened as she saw him make the connection.  They knew everything they needed to know already.  Well, somewhat.  They weren’t the experts in any of it.  But if they remembered enough, it could be a start. 

        “Jill, you are brilliant!”  Clive felt more grounded now than he had since they got here.  This was the start of a plan.  If they could somehow nudge Rosaria to give up magic, they would be a truly independent nation.  They would care little for Mothercrystals or the trade of their shards.  They would be dependent on no one for that supply.  Bearers could be freed with less push-back.  Maybe, just maybe, it would stall the Blight.  And when the Mothercrystals did fall, Rosaria could show the world how it was done.  Clive only hoped they remembered enough to make it work.  “Once Joshua is recovered, we should take this to Father.  We will never enact it without his aid.  In truth I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”  He cocked an eyebrow at her, suddenly realizing something.  “When did you speak with Father?”  She smiled a little sheepishly.

        “While you were in the Apodytery, apparently.”

        “Was it a pleasant conversation?”

        “It was.  Until Lord Murdoch arrived with the news of ships approaching.  I…”  She clasped her hands together, studying them just avoid looking at him. 

        “Jill, please.”  He knew he needn’t say more than that.  She wasn’t even trying to hide that she wasn’t saying something.

        “I just…didn’t take the news well.  Your father told me and all those memories I never wanted to see again swelled to the surface.  It was all I could see or think.  He was holding me up, trying to calm me, and I couldn’t even hear him.”

        “Oh, Jill,” he lamented, immediately leaning over to take her clasped hands.  “I didn’t think to warn you.  Joshua and I both have battled our own memories here.  Sometimes they surface with more vigor than they’ve a right to.  More than they ever did before.”

        “It’s alright, Clive.”

        “Are you alright after facing the Ironblood here?  I wanted to ask in the infirmary, but Jote was too close for comfort.”  Jill smiled at the mention of Jote.

        “I thought that was who that was.  Joshua will be ecstatic.”

        “I am less sure of that.  He told me in the Apodytery that he would appreciate her presence, but wanted her to find her own path.”

        “You don’t think he’ll be happy?”  Clive gave a wry scoff.

        “I worry he is more like me than he thinks and may repeat my own mistakes.”

        “After the solitary life he has led, I almost think he has earned the right to make mistakes.”

        “So long as he does not repeat mine.  It took long enough for all of you to beat the truth into my thick skull.  Now, are you deliberately avoiding my question?”

        “About the Iron Kingdom?  No, not deliberately.  It was difficult seeing a few of the servants in the throne room.  The one with the long braid that looked a bit like Mid?  I remember she tried to run the moment she stepped foot on land.  She only made it ten feet.  And the boy in the back?  I remember seeing his body when…”  Visibly biting off the rest of that thought, which she didn’t need to say anyway, she restarted her answer.  “I feel strangely calm now despite that.  I know we have much to do moving forward and that things will change in ways we might not expect.  Yet I feel peaceful.  The Iron Kingdom will not touch these shores again.  I had to end the monster that I was along with the hand that controlled her.  I stand by that.  But that monster will never exist in this world.  She will only ever exist now in my memory.”

        “Would that I could excise her from there as well.”  But Jill shook her head.

        “You won’t need to.  I think, with time, even Shiva will be less a burden.  Helping save Rosalith and those downstairs with her was…”  Jill trailed off in search of words.  Watching her struggle to sort through the feeling, Clive slid closer to her, moving remnants of their indoor picnic aside.

        “Come here.”  He pulled her into his lap, leaning her against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her stomach and propped his chin on her shoulder.  The pressure stung his wounds a bit, but he didn’t care.  “Tell me,” he whispered in her ear.  After a long pause in which he knew she was trying to find the right words, she haltingly tried to explain.

        “I felt something I never had as Shiva.  It was the first time I ever primed to save so many.  I was seen afterward.  Yet no one shied away from me.  Byron helped me the same as Joshua even though he did not know until then I was a Dominant.  They cheered, Clive.  I heard those from Port Isolde cheering, not just the Phoenix, but Shiva too.  There are gifts down there with my name alongside yours and Joshua’s.  I don’t know what it means yet.  But I almost feel…  Clive, I think I almost feel pride in it rather than hatred.”

        “You should be proud,” he murmured.  “Jill, we would not have won that fight without you.  Not without resorting to Ifrit.  Joshua was right; that most like would have been catastrophic.”

        “Now you say that.  You wanted me to remain at Phoenix Gate, remember?”

        “No.”  He kissed her cheek.  “I never wished for you to stay your hand.  I only wanted you to know you did have a choice.  I could not be more proud of you for choosing to face them.”  She relaxed further against his chest at his words, apparently accepting them as truth.

        “You know the Archduke did have a request when we spoke.”

        “Hm?”

        “He thought it time we find something less formal for me to call him than ‘Your Grace.’  After calming my flood of memories, I think he may be correct.”

        “What did you tell him?”

        “That I would think on it.  Everything I can think of sounds so wrong, though.”  She fell silent for a while.  It was a comfortable silence.  As strange as everything about their situation was, there were some very sincere perks.  Sitting like this together, listening to the storm outside, safe for the moment.  He could ask for little more, content to let Jill think on it as long as she wished.  “There was one thing that wasn’t completely wrong,” she eventually whispered.  Sensing her tension, he squeezed her lightly.

        “What’s that?”

        “Before coming here, if he were still alive after we, well, after we opened up about things.  I would have enjoyed the chance to call him Father.”  Clive bit back the smile trying to force its way out of him.

        “Do you know the first thing he said to me that night in the war room?  After I walked out with you?”  She shook her head slightly.  “Is Jill my daughter in law yet.”  Jill stiffened, then relaxed.  Then scoffed.

        “Why do I suddenly get the feeling your father is more mischievous than I ever knew?”

        “I think he simply pays attention.”

        “Hm.  Do you think he would accept that?  If I called him Father?”  For a moment, Jill’s small, unsure voice sounded the age she appeared.   

        “You would need ask him.  Yet I think he would love it.”  It did bring up something else in Clive’s mind, though.  He and Jill did indeed appear to be a very different age now.  An age where anyone seeing them cuddled up like this would set tongues wagging all over at the complete impropriety.  While Clive cared little for gossip, their appearances could complicate things.  Suddenly he was terrified of losing Jill simply because she looked like a little girl to the eyes of the world.

        “You’re thinking something I’m not going to like, aren’t you?”  Clive huffed into her shoulder.

        “How could you tell?”

        “You’re squeezing me tighter.  You do that when you’re afraid to let go.  What is it, then?”

        “I was just thinking that we look much younger.  And if we do anything too fast, the gossip will spread.  It may even cause problems considering our ages.  We think of ourselves as adults, but we do not look it.  We do not even feel it.  It would be prudent for us to cease late night visits like this lest we unintentionally set something in motion beyond my door which cannot be undone.”  Despite his words, he couldn’t bring himself to loosen his grasp.  He didn’t want to let her out of his reach.

        “I don’t care,” she murmured.  

        “Jill?”  She squirmed loose in his arms to look at him fully.  In moments like this, when he felt unsure, she had a way of looking at him that made it impossible to look away.  Those soft grey eyes could look down to the depths of his soul and pin it precisely where she wanted it without even trying.

        “Clive, we are outlaws set to bring about the end of the world.  That is not going to change because the scenery did.  Alright, we will not do anything untoward until a more appropriate age.  You are probably correct in thinking we should not act as adults in some things.  But I did not come here tonight with the intent of leaving.”  Leaning away from him, she reached into the basket and pulled out a nightgown.  She showed it to him pointedly then placed it behind him on the sofa.  Hand now free, she brushed her fingers down his cheek, pinning his gaze on her once more with such intensity the little girl visage disappeared.  “You left that day to fight an impossible enemy and died.  We have been running ever since.  All I want in this world right now is to share your bed like I have for years.  I want to be safe in your arms all night and wake the same way with you safe in mine.  I dare any in this castle to try taking you from me.”  Feeling emboldened by her confidence, Clive leaned up to capture her lips gently.  Jill almost melted into the gesture. 

        “You win,” he breathed when he pulled away from her.

        “I know,” she replied with no shame. 

        “You know I was thinking my first night here that this bed was entirely too large without you.”

        “Then it is good I am here now to help you occupy it.  Come.”  She stood up and grabbed her nightgown.

        They both prepared for bed with their backs to one another.  That felt a strange step too far despite the fact they intended to share a bed.  How they were going to navigate this Clive had no clue.  Coming back in time with an established relationship was proving troublesome.  Why was this complicated in the most unexpected ways?  Not that Clive was complaining, of course.  He would much rather have this complicated situation to navigate than for Jill not to be here at all.  He didn’t know how they were going to navigate this.  What he did know was they would take it one day at a time.  Or one night at a time as the case may prove. 

        Once dressed for sleep, they both slipped under the blankets.  Then it was a different challenge to navigate.  They were both used to being much bigger and neither was entirely sure how to do this anymore.  Clive felt like he was going to suffocate Jill trying to hold her the way he was used to and Jill was too small to put her limbs where she wanted.  It took several tries to finally find a position comfortable for them both by laying on their sides facing each other, something Jill insisted on to protect his wound.  Clive had an arm around Jill’s middle and she had his free hand clasped tightly between them.  It was the best compromise they could find at the moment.

        “Clive?”

        “Hm?”

        “I think this bed may still be too big.”  They both snickered.  Indeed, they had too much space between them.  Attempting this in his bed in the hideaway would have seen both of them falling on the floor.

        “Torgal could sleep with us now, I suppose.  Where is he, anyway?”  Jill bit her lip.

        “He’s with F-Father.”  Clive raised an eyebrow, though she probably couldn’t see it in the dim light.

        “Trying it out?” he teased. 

        “What do you think?”

        “I think it suits you both.”

        Clive wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about returning to Rosalith in such a manner.  Parts he loved, parts he hated.  It was home, in a way.  The hideaway was home, too.  He missed it, even if he was grateful to not be in charge for a moment.   But there had been so much turmoil and upheaval and just travel in his life that home came to mean something different for him.  Long before he put a name to his feelings for Jill, before she confessed hers to him, she was home.  Wherever they were, so long as she was within arm’s reach, that was all he needed.  Finally, after what felt like years, Clive closed his eyes feeling like he was properly home.

Chapter Text

        “This would not be a problem if you knew the meaning of the word rest, my lord.”  Joshua heard someone speaking, but he didn’t recognize the man’s voice.

        “I’m sorry.  They needed help and I did not think it would cause such a problem.  I am nearly healed anyway.”  That one, however, was definitely Clive. 

        “My lord, you were climbing a tree,” the first voice said with obvious exasperation.  Had Joshua been fully awake, he would undoubtedly have been laughing.  “Nearly healed is not the same as fully healed.  All within these walls would understand if you did not extend your aid to someone else this single time.  You would not have pulled three stitches had you been able to contain your enthusiasm.” 

        Three stitches didn’t sound good.  Joshua had collapsed as soon as he’d hit the ground back on the beach; he had no idea what kind of state Clive had been in.  Now he was worried.  If Clive needed healed…  If Clive needed healed, he wouldn’t let Joshua do it anyway.  Not if he’d been up and about enough to climb a tree.  Which meant it was long past time for Joshua to be out of bed as well.  Blinking his eyes open against the light of the room, he tried to get his bearings.  He had, unfortunately, seen the stone above him often enough to quickly assume it was the castle infirmary.  He wasn’t sure how long he had been here.  A while, judging by how sluggish his body felt.  Once again he had likely worried everyone.  But Clive hadn’t been wrong before they left; whatever the Phoenix had done to him in the Apodytery was exhausting.  His wings were their only option, however, and so he’d ignored that for the sake of what needed done.

        “Your highness!  You’re finally awake!”  Joshua heard the familiar voice before he saw her leaning into his vision from the side of the bed.  Jote.  Part of his heart stopped with relief to see her smile at him, a familiar presence he had missed.  The other part lurched into his throat with the knowledge that he was already placing a strain upon her.  He hadn’t wanted this for her again.  “How do you feel?”

        “Sore and tired,” he answered honestly.  Immediately she reached for something and helped him sit up.  He recognized the smell of arnica, and she was quick to rub it into his shoulders and arms.  The exact spots he always felt sore after using much of the Phoenix.  “Thank you.”

        “Here.  I had this waiting as well.”  She carefully handed him a cup of blessedly warm herbal tea filled with cinnamon and ginger.  It was…his favorite?  Jote always gave it to him in these situations.  Because it was difficult to convince his body to move again.  And because he always felt cold for days afterward.  Glancing down, he realized he also had a second blanket on top of him.  Did she know?

        “You chose my favorite,” he murmured gratefully, testing the waters of her knowledge.

        “Have I?”  She looked genuinely surprised at the revelation.  And perhaps a bit frightened by it for some reason.

        “Hm.  It is a relief to have.  I always take a chill after priming for so long.”  He did surreptitiously warm it a bit further, though.  “Thank you, Jote.”

        “Oh, o-of course, your highness.” 

        Joshua pulled his legs under him, sitting more confidently while cradling his tea.  It felt strange not to be wracked with coughing or gasping for breath.  He didn’t even hurt like he once did; just a dull ache.  He had grown far too accustomed to all of that.  Glancing to his left, he saw Clive watching him while getting his stitches fixed.  Ignoring the angry remnants of a wound he saw, Joshua placed a hand on his own chest, deliberately took a deep breath, and smiled.

        Thank you, Clive.  His brother smirked and winked.  You too, Phoenix, he thought to his Eikon.  He could have sworn he felt something like a purr in his chest, but he had to be imagining things.

        “How long have I been here?” 

        “Nearly a week,” Jote answered him.  That wasn’t completely surprising under the circumstances.  His guess had been almost spot on.  While he hated that he’d likely worried everyone once again, in a very selfish part of his mind, he was a little glad he was the last one up.  He’d gotten a small taste of that kind of worry after Ultima tried pulling Ifrit from Clive at Phoenix Gate.  It certainly gave him a newfound understanding of exactly what it could do to a person to worry with nothing to do.  It could have been paralyzing had he not had something else to focus on.  While he was sure there was something he could have done while waiting now, he was not eager to feel that again.  “Oh, I have something if you’ve need of it, your highness.”  Jote pulled a small tub out of her pocket and handed it to him.

        Joshua opened the tub to smell it.  Honey and vanilla.  Her lip balm.  After one particularly harrowing venture into a Fallen ruin, she had shared it with him when he complained about his chapped lips from the heat of being semi-primed.  He’d quickly taken a liking to it and she shared it with him freely since then.  Nodding gratefully, he did rub some into his somewhat chapped lips.  Arnica exactly where he needed it, his favorite tea, a second blanket, and her lip balm?  She couldn’t possibly be…  No, she had been too surprised to learn that that was, in fact, his favorite tea.  Then how could she know?  There were too many coincidences for there not to be something going on.  He closed the tub and handed it back to her, trying not to show the wheels turning in his mind.

        “Thank you, Jote.  I rather like that balm.” 

        “Oh, um.  I actually have one.”  She pressed the tub back toward him.  “I-I…I thought you might a-appreciate your own.”  The way she stumbled over her words might be the most embarrassed and unsure he had ever seen her. 

        “Then I must thank you once again.”

        “Jote.”  The physicker drew her attention away quickly with a firm voice.  “You should inform the Archduke and retrieve something for the Phoenix to eat.”

        “Yes, Master Lochlan.”  Thank the Founder, she’d said his name.  Joshua could not dredge that one up from the depths.  She was an apprentice in the infirmary, then, was she?  He hadn’t known that.  They both actively avoided speaking of Rosalith and their youth.  It had been too painful a subject for so long.  At some point it simply became habit not to mention it. 

        “Lady Jote?” Clive called on her way out, moving to stand by Joshua’s bed.  “If you would be so kind, tell our father that I will explain the situation to Joshua since I am already here.”

        “As you wish, my lord.”  As soon as the door closed behind her Joshua narrowed his eyes at his brother, paying only partial attention to the physicker prodding him.

        Did you do this?  Clive looked toward the door.

        Jote?

        Yes.  He shook his head slightly.

        No, I didn’t.  Joshua frowned.  Clive cocked his head with an unspoken question.  Not knowing how to explain without spilling everything to Lochlan, he just held out his cup to his brother.  Clive took it, sniffed it, and his eyes went wide, darting back to the door.  He knew the smell of the tea Jote always made for him.  She’d done it enough times at the hideaway and every time Clive had made a comment on the scent that lingered.  Completely oblivious to the silent conversation and shocked looks around him, Lochlan continued prodding before arriving at his final conclusion.

        “I must confess, your highness, I was not certain you would be able to prime at all.  If you were, I most certainly did not anticipate you taking to it so easily.  Priming for the first time has ever been an exacting process, yet you show none of the drawbacks I would have expected.  I cannot believe I am saying this, but it seems priming may have been exactly what you needed all these years.  I can find nothing out of place.  You seem as hale as your brother.”

        “Minus the chest wound,” Clive quipped.  Joshua just rolled his eyes at the attempted joking.  He should have considered that a physicker would realize the boy who could barely run suddenly could breathe normally after being primed half the night with no ill effect.  He should have seen this coming.  Lochlan was making no overt assumptions yet, but it would take little for him to begin to question that something had changed far too quickly.

        “Who would have thought?” he muttered in a noncommittal tone.

        “Well.  My apprentice has been quite concerned for your wellbeing.  She will be glad to aid you when she returns.  I must make note of this in the records.”  Lochlan stood and placed his implements on a nearby table.  Door to his office half open, he stopped to turn back to Joshua.  “One more thing, your highness.  Might you know why my apprentice expected to find a wound on your chest?  A rather serious wound, I should think, given the salve she took up in preparation for it.”  Joshua couldn’t breathe.  There was only a single thing that could have been.  He just shook his head, hoping he was keeping his expression neutral.  “Ah.  I will need to have further discussion, then.”  He shut the door, leaving Joshua to turn towards Clive with wide eyes.

        “The prison…” he murmured. 

        “How would Jote know anything about you?  You don’t think she—”

        “No.  She was too shocked by the tea.”  Clive sat on his bed and Joshua twisted to sit beside him.  He had no ready answers.  There was something, he was certain.  But what?  “I shall have to pay closer attention moving forward to solve that riddle, I think.  Tell me what I have missed.  You said you would explain something.”

        “I did.  All is well in the duchy, thank the Founder.  But Father and the other Shields were attacked on their return.  Imperials freed the prisoners with them.  Most of the Shields are safe; two were killed.  But Mother…”  A flare of anger surged into his chest at her mention.  “Knowing what little he did, Tyler shot her to prevent her escape.  She’s dead.”

        “She’s…”  Joshua exhaled slowly, bidding that anger to calm itself.  It didn’t do much.  “Dammit.”

        “I know you struggled with your feelings on her.  Please do not blame Tyler for this.  He has done enough of that himself.”

        “I do not blame him.  He did what needed to be done.”  Joshua knew that.  He knew as well as Clive what could have happened.  Yet the sinking feeling in his chest refused to release its grip on his heart.

        “They returned with her body if you wish to see her.  Complicated though your feelings may have been, there was a time they were not.  It may be good for you to put it to rest.  I will go with you, if you wish, as will Jill I’ve no doubt.”

        “No.  I want nothing more than to put her in the ground where she belongs.”  Clive tensed at the heat in his voice.  The more his brother spoke, the more that feeling in his chest tipped dangerously to the front.  That anger bordering on wrath bled into his words as he finally could keep a lid on them no longer.  “Clive, I was so angry when I found out she branded you.  The pity I felt for her nearly fled completely in the face of it.  I knew what was set to happen when we laid the trap for her, yet to see it for myself, to watch her so casually throw away her own son, I…  That was the moment I no longer cared what became of her.  I have only rarely felt fury like that.  Had she tried to lay a single finger upon you I would have burned her to ash myself.  Everything in me was crying out to do it anyway.” 

        So much of his life he lived alone without family or those he cared for most.  What he would not have given for even one person, anyone, from Phoenix Gate to have been there when he woke so long afterward.  Instead he woke to strangers and those he loved were long dead.  Watching his mother…  No, watching Annabella for she surely was no family of his, throw away the one person she had left, the one person Joshua would have given the world to have…  Wounds he long thought healed ripped open in his heart leaving a black film of hatred towards the woman.  His fist clenched angrily thinking about it.  He had shoved those feelings so far down after she was taken away, locked them away to never see the light of day.  Now the lock was broken and he couldn’t stop it.  He couldn’t stop the tears on his cheeks or the tightness in his throat.  Because the one thing he wanted was no longer possible.  Clive put a hand around his fist calmly.

        “It’s alright, Joshua.  I’m right here.”

        “It’s not alright, Clive.  I care not that she is gone.  Good riddance, cold as it is to say.  Were it only about the treason and what she would do with her freedom, I would not care half so much.  I just wanted her to be held accountable for what she did to you.  I wanted you to get some measure of justice you were always denied.  Yet it would seem fate once again intervened.”  He let out a shuddering breath.  Was it really so much to ask to have a small amount of justice for a lifetime of wrongs?  Clive would never seek it himself.  Surely someone had to seek it for him.

        “You know I care little for that,” Clive predictably murmured. 

        “Precisely why I desired to do it for you.”  Clive sighed.

        “Joshua, you told me it was time to let the Night of Flames go.  I think it time to let this go too.  I got you back.  Jill, too.  We can carve our new futures out together as we should have then.  Without her malignant influence on any of it.”  He was right.  Joshua knew he was right, even if he didn’t like it.  The fist he’d kept clenched in his lap slowly loosened as he focused on his breathing.  She would be a shadow lurking in the corners no more.  There was some comfort in that if he allowed himself to see it.

        “The vicereine is dead,” he whispered. 

        “And the duchy survives.”  Focus on that.  He pulled a knee up to lean his elbow on, resting his head on his palm.  Suddenly he felt much more exhausted than he had been when he woke up and a headache was looming.

        “Please tell me this is the worst of the news.  Between Jote and Annabella, I do not think I can handle anything more at this moment.”

        “That is the worst, yes.”

        Clive proceeded to tell him what he knew of goings-on in recent days.  Joshua was quite shocked to hear that Clive himself had slept for four days after the battle.  He didn’t think he’d ever seen that happen in the days after their reunion.  It called into question just how much aether would he have had to use to so thoroughly exhaust a god’s mortal vessel.  When Jote returned, she confirmed it had indeed been a matter of aether use.  The fact she knew of Clive’s Eikon surprised him, but Clive explained that had been Wade’s doing before Joshua’s thoughts could get too carried away.  With Jote standing close by watching him slowly eat, their conversation became more careful.  Neither wanted to mention too much in front of her.  And she was most certainly paying close attention. 

        At least it was good news.  The Iron Kingdom soldiers that survived the battle had been taken prisoner by Uncle Byron, including the Patriarch.  Talks with the government for some kind of agreement on the prisoners hadn’t begun yet, their father having yet to hear from them.  Joshua honestly had no idea what might happen with the Iron Kingdom when talks did begin.  He was confident war was not on the horizon, not with what they’d told Father, but something would change soon.

        Everyone else was well after their ordeals.  Jill was helping things where she could.  Wade was supervising the cleanup of the battle.  Tyler had apparently been wounded in the ambush, but was working towards recovery.  Joshua had to resist the urge to just heal him and be done with it.  The Shield hadn’t been pleased the first time he’d done it; this would be little different, he was sure.  He also had to resist the urge to finish healing Clive’s wound when he told him about it.  It sounded awful, and Clive was always one to downplay his wounds.  That left quite a degree of uncertainty concerning how bad the wound truly was. 

        Eventually Elwin arrived in the infirmary just as Clive was finishing catching him up on events.  One smile from Joshua was all it took to literally watch the remaining tension his father was carrying melt off of him.  He must have been more worried than Joshua had suspected.  Although once he thought about it, this was probably the worst condition he had ever seen either of them.  For Clive and Joshua, Jill, too, really, it was all too common.  That information, however, would only serve to increase his father’s anxiety rather than soothe it, so he kept that thought to himself.  Joshua and Clive both had to assure him multiple times they were well even though Clive had already left the infirmary.  Of his own accord, of course, as Joshua found out from Lochlan’s scolding.  Elwin did get concerned for Joshua when he shivered and Jote swiftly brought him more tea.  He then had to explain that this was common for him, which prompted more carefully worded questions about priming and the Phoenix. 

        They talked for a long time about things that weren’t important.  Joshua knew there was a great deal they were all simply waiting for better timing to bring up.  In part because of others listening, but also because they were just grateful for the opportunity.  It did wonders for Joshua’s mood after the revelation of Annabella’s fate.  He needn’t fear that life any longer.  They were here with him now.  Finally.  Impossibly.  They were all together.  Maybe Clive was right; maybe that really was the most important thing.  Once they caught Joshua yawning, though, both his father and Clive decided it would be best to let him get some rest.  As little as he wanted to admit it, they were probably right.  He wasn’t exactly tired, but he was still drained.  Not long after they left, Lochlan left for some errands of his own, apparently confident in the knowledge that the Phoenix would be fine in the care of his apprentice. 

        Jote busied herself with menial tasks in the uncomfortable silence.  Or, it was uncomfortable for Joshua.  He couldn’t figure her out.  It was plain she knew something, or at the least was acting upon something.  It made no sense, though.  The Phoenix brought them back here, that much they knew.  The only ones to go through this process had been Dominants.  Well, and perhaps Torgal.  None have them had figured that out yet.  Sometimes he seemed older, other times a puppy.  Phoenix, Eikons, Dominants.  Clive.  It almost made sense in a bizarre way.  Clive could have acted like something of an anchor point for them all.  He was the thing connecting them.  But not Jote.  She was no Dominant nor did she have any particular connection to Clive or his abilities.  So how could she possibly know any of what had occurred? 

        “Your father stayed with you that first night,” she said softly, pulling him forcefully out of his thoughts.  “He was so worried to see you all I thought he might weep.”  She never turned from her task of organizing jars on the shelf, but he could tell her entire attention was really on him.

        “Would that I could have told him all would be well.”

        “I told him in your stead, as it were.”  They fell silent for a while.  He felt he should say something just to fill the quiet, yet he could think of nothing to speak of.  It was so awkward and familiar.  Comfortable and not.  The same yet different.  He suddenly missed the ease with which he had always been able to speak with Jote. 

        “I will be quite well on my own should you wish to rest.  I imagine looking after us all has been exhausting.”  She glanced over her shoulder with a small smile.

        “I am alright.  Thank you for your concern, your highness.”  Such a predictable answer even now.  Well, if she would not rest, perhaps he could find out some information.

        “How long have you apprenticed in the infirmary?”

        “Two years.”  Two years was quite a while.  He was sure they had never met in Rosalith, though. 

        “Forgive my rudeness if I am incorrect, but we have not met in that time, have we?”  Her hands paused in her work for a moment, a pause he likely would not have noticed were he not watching her so intently.

        “We have not, your highness.  Master Lochlan did not wish an apprentice treating the Phoenix until I was well prepared for it.”

        “The Undying can be particular, can they not?”  There was a bit more grumbling in his words than he’d intended.  He had no problems with the Undying for the most part.  He owed them his life.  Yet the way they revered him for his Eikon never failed to make him uncomfortable.  When they saw him as simply Joshua, they were wonderful people.  When they remembered he was the Phoenix, it was different.  He said little of their eccentricities for the most part.  They would not be dissuaded anyway.  Clive, however, never failed to debate with Cyril over the worth of their lives while serving the Phoenix.  Joshua couldn’t believe it when he managed to make some small progress in that.

        “We are here to serve you first and foremost, your highness.  It is natural to ensure you receive the best care we can provide.”

        “If your master was so hesitant to allow you near me before, what changed for him to leave me in your care now?”  Jote squeaked at the question and dropped the jar in her hands.  The glass shattered everywhere, though luckily it was empty at the time.  Feeling terrible for catching her that off guard with his questioning, Joshua climbed out of his bed, pulled his boots on, and knelt down to help clean up the glass.  “I’m sorry.  I clearly have overstepped with my curiosity.”

        “Your highness!  You need not concern yourself with a broken jar.  You should remain in bed.  I will clean up after my own clumsiness.  Please.”  Joshua offered her a small, apologetic smirk. 

        “I will be fine, Jote.  Picking up a few shards of glass will not kill me.”

        “B-but you should not have to!”

        “Please.”  He finally caught her half-frantic gaze and held it.  “We both know you dropped it due to my thoughtless probing.  It is the least I can do to help you clean it.”

        “If you insist,” she whispered ruefully. 

        “If it would help, I could always invoke my Eikon.”  He cleared his throat with mock authority.  “As Dominant of the Phoenix, I order you to let me help clean this mess,” he said with a falsely deepened voice.  Jote tried, she really did try, to keep the smile from her face and the snicker hidden away where he wouldn’t hear it.  When she failed completely, he laughed with her.  “That is a much better way to address an accident.”  The glass shards clinked in the bucket as they picked them up, two hands making quick work of the mess.  “Might I ask what I hope to be a less troublesome question?”  Jote nodded her assent as she began sweeping the floor of the smaller bits of glass.  “What drew you to the infirmary for an apprenticeship?”  Since they never spoke of it, he didn’t know.  A gross oversight on his part, he now realized.

        “You did, your highness.”  Her voice hitched with embarrassment.  “I heard you were often ill and I found I wished to ease that burden where I could.” 

        That information drove a stake through his heart.  She was even here because of him?  Was there no part of her life that was her own?  Did he truly rule so much of her that every step she had ever taken was all because of him?  Some rational part of his mind understood that he could not take blame for choices made before he’d even known her.  It also recognized that as a member of the Undying it would be natural to look at any choice made as service to the Phoenix, to him.  But he struggled nonetheless.  Just as he hoped to give Clive justice for the wrongs against him, he had hoped to give Jote her own life that did not revolve around him.  Yet here he was, failing before he even had the power to do anything.  How was he supposed to give her a life of her own choosing when everything was already decided?  Could he try to persuade her of another way?  Would she listen?  Would she take the opportunity? 

        “It made sense,” she continued, seemingly not noticing the spiral he’d found himself sliding into.  “My parents were both Undying.  Though they were taken from this world before their time, I remember being told they were both physickers for our agents afield.  I suppose I hoped I had their knack for it.”  At least he had known about her parents.  She had few memories of them and so spoke of them little.  They had both been involved in a freak accident near the northern border before the Blight arrived in the area.  Jote had actually been with them, though she remembered nothing of the event itself.  As far as any could tell, her parents had fallen into a sinkhole filled with aether.  Jote was found unconscious just outside the hole.  Because she did not remember the incident, all that was known was her parents died and Jote miraculously survived.

        “I am sorry to hear of your parents,” he murmured.  She stopped sweeping suddenly to look at him.

        “I should be apologizing for bringing it up.  I overheard the Archduke telling your brother that your mother had died.  I got the feeling it was complicated, but I am sorry for that loss.”  With great willpower alone he forced a calm mask onto his face.

        “Do not be.  She was…not a nice person.” 

        “I see.”  Thankfully she said nothing more on the subject.  Instead, she placed the broom back in its corner and picked up the bucket.  “If you will be alright on your own for but a few minutes, I will dispose of this.” 

        “Of course.  I do apologize again for that.”

        “Do not fret over it, your highness.”

        With a smile, Jote stepped out of the door.  And then she let her smile falter.  His highness was easy to talk to.  Perhaps too easy for someone she just met.  Through their conversation, though, she never had the courage to ask what she really wanted.  His question was innocuous; the answer was anything but.  Master Lochlan trusted him in her care because of the knowledge she couldn’t explain.  She expected him to keep her away from the Phoenix after that incident.  Yet when they had found it all to be true, things had changed.  Neither of them could explain how she knew what she did.  It simply made her more valuable to his care.  The knowledge scared her.  She didn’t understand what was happening or who she was anymore.

        At heart, though, she was Undying and the Undying were very good at discovering a great many things.  It was her firm belief that the key to moving beyond the fear was understanding.  So when the lord marquess spoke, she listened.  When the Archduke spoke, she listened.  And when the Phoenix spoke, she listened.  There were so many things she wanted to ask.  Many of the same things she was asking herself.  She was not the only one who should not know that Joshua Rosfield ached or caught a chill when he used the Phoenix.  This was supposed to be his first time priming, after all, and as far as any knew he had not semi-primed either.  None of it made sense.  But what she really wanted to ask while she had the chance?  What she had lacked the courage to know because it would prove something was going on?  How had the sons of the Archduke, whom she had never met, both known her name on sight? 

        “Trust your instinct, especially around the three of them.  Things have been a little out of the norm lately.”

        Sir Wade had given her that advice the night this began.  He, too, had seemed to know more than he was sharing.  Something was going on, she was certain of it.  Her instincts were screaming that fact at her.  Try though they might to hide it, the Phoenix, the lord marquess, even the Archduke and likely Lady Jill all knew something no one else did.  It was easy to see if one were to pay attention.  A warning in the back of her mind told her to stop thinking about it, to let it go and go no further.  Unfortunately for that warning, Jote was also a curious person.  If she could find the courage, she would have a great many answers.  Though it may not be today, she vowed to find that courage.

Chapter Text

        Within a couple days, life in Rosalith castle had begun to take on some semblance of normalcy.  Once released from the infirmary, Joshua received the extreme warm welcome both Clive and Jill had endured.  Clive had expected an even more vivacious reaction, but it actually was about the same as his own.  While they had all been concerned for their beloved Phoenix, Clive’s wounds had been quite noticeable.  It ultimately evened out between them.  Which naturally made Clive grumble about it in private.  He had been counting on Joshua still being in the forefront here.  He didn’t know what to do when he was acknowledged just as highly.  It didn’t feel right.  From failure, to Bearer, to outlaw, he would never get used to that.

        At his father’s insistence they all waited to discuss their next steps until everyone was as recovered as possible.  Conveniently that also allowed time for Wade to return and Tyler to get back on his feet.  While Shields would normally not be included in a meeting of such high-level planning for the duchy, no one wanted to move forward without them.  They had earned that much and more for their dedication and efforts, though Tyler did protest a moment at the breach of protocol.  And so a week and a half after the Battle for Rosalith, as it was being called, Clive and the others gathered informally in the Archduke’s personal sitting room.  It felt more like a formal meeting simply because they had planned it, but it was not meant to be.  They merely wanted to ensure privacy and comfort.  Strict orders were given that they were not to be disturbed unless it was the greatest of emergencies.  The entire day had been carved out for this single meeting for there surely was a great deal to discuss and each agreed that they were not leaving until finished.  It was going to be a long day and Clive, for one, was grateful for the comfortable chairs if nothing else.

        “Before we begin,” his father said once they’d all settled in, “I trust you’ve all recovered?”  He eyed them all one by one save Lord Murdoch.  Joshua, Jill, and Wade simply nodded.  Clive pulled back his shirt revealing a very faded pink line.

        “I will like as not have the remaining stitches out tomorrow.”

        “And I have been given leave for light training beginning tomorrow,” Tyler said.

        “Good.  What we do here today will guide our steps forward.  I would not have anyone at less than their best for such a task.  I would like to begin with what I plan to do in the coming days.  It is widely known that a battle took place near the city.  The rampant rumors are, for once, largely correct.  We have yet to comment upon the event for awaiting your recovery.  I did not wish to make this announcement without warning.”

        “We are not going to enjoy this, are we?” Clive complained.  Something about the way his father was looking at them set his instincts ablaze.

        “No, most like.  It is my intent to lay bare much for our people.  Beginning with the attack on Phoenix Gate and the Iron Kingdom.  Along with who stopped it.”  He looked pointedly at each of them.

        “What, pray tell, do you intend to say of us?” Joshua asked nervously.

        “Only what I must.  Fear not.  I intend to speak of Phoenix Gate more broadly as something narrowly averted.  However there can be no denying or downplaying your actions here in Rosalith.  So alongside this, I will also be announcing Shiva.”  Jill looked down nervously, though Clive knew she’d anticipated this.  There was no way around it, but she was still afraid of what would happen when it was more widely known.

        “And Ifrit?” Clive asked warily.

        “A secret until we are forced.”  That was a relief.  “I would announce Ifrit alongside Shiva if I could.  You deserve credit as much as they.”

        “I would prefer you didn’t, Father,” he interrupted.  “Word of Ifrit now would only cause ripples that I would like to avoid for the time being.”

        “Agreed.  That does make your appearance alongside two known Dominants a strange thing, however.  You would seem the odd man in the ranks, so to speak, which may well make you the target of even more gossip and speculation.  And so I would also like to mention Wade in the announcement.”  Wade jumped at the sound of his name.

        “W-what?  M-me?”  Clive cocked his head at the Shield.

        “You were there, Wade.”

        “But I didn’t think it would be known!”  Elwin chuckled at the flustered reaction.

        “Calm yourself, Sir Wade.  There is much more which will be revealed and I doubt many will latch onto your mention to strongly.  All will be well.”  There was no further protest from Wade save a dubious look. 

        “I admit you are being more open with information than I’d expected, Father.  This will change the balance of power in the Twins rather drastically even without Ifrit.”  Joshua watched him expectantly.  Whether they had a choice or not, Shiva would definitely change things.

        “True, but I think it our only viable option.  Announcing Shiva now is for the best.  People are generally taught to fear other Dominants and Eikons.  Right now we have the unique opportunity to prove she is a protector alongside those they already trust.  And that will help set minds at ease for the rest of the announcement.”

        “Annabella,” Joshua half growled.  Clive was still surprised to hear that anger from his brother.  He hadn’t thought him truly capable of it.  That anger stemming from a desire for justice for Clive was, he thought, not a good reason.  The wound was still fresh, though, so hopefully one day it would ease.  Clive trying to ease it himself had only seemed to make things worse, leaving time as his only option.

        “We have yet to say anything of her.  This, too, I intend to be open about.  It was tempting to cover up, I admit.  It will not be well received by our people I fear.  However, we must consider the options.”

        “This is a warning, isn’t it?” Jill guessed.

        “It is.  Something has been bothering me since before we left Phoenix Gate.  It was something she said.  She cared naught for Rosaria so long as she had the Phoenix in hand.  She intended to take you, Joshua, to Sanbreque to keep you and Prince Dion in close company as fellow Dominants.  While it sickened me to hear her speak so carelessly of Rosaria and its people, it was clear those were her true feelings.  So I find myself asking, why invite the Iron Kingdom to ransack a place she cared naught for?  What benefit would it be to her?”

        “It can be no coincidence they arrived so quickly after such a lofty near-miss,” Lord Murdoch added.

        “No.  There are no coincidences in moves like this.  Someone let it be known that the ruling family would be gone.  Someone who stood to gain from a further weakened Rosaria.  And with Phoenix in hand, Annabella had no need of a weakened duchy.  That was her sole priority.  I apologize for speaking of you in such a way, Joshua.”  He waved off their father without comment.

        “Who would do something like that?” Wade murmured.

        “The better question is who has the ability to orchestrate it,” Tyler answered him.

        “The obvious choice would be Sylvestre Lesage, would it not?”  Jill looked up at the Archduke as if to confirm her suspicion.  “There were rumors of Annabella’s involvement in the attack.  It makes sense we would never have thought of another’s hand at play by the time we returned to Rosaria.”

        “I had the same thought,” Elwin admitted.  “It seems logical under the circumstances, but what does Rosaria have that the Empire does not to go to such lengths?  Compared to our neighbors, I am well aware we are hardly the most wealthy nor the most powerful nation in the Twins.  We do not even control a Mothercrystal.”

        “Even if they were likely to go so far to get me,” Joshua added calmly, “I would avail them little in practicality at present.  A young and inexperienced Dominant who has yet to prime and is well known for being often ill?  Now that I say it aloud, Annabella’s plot sounds all the more foolish.”

        “The Blight?” Jill suggested.  “It forced his hand later.”

        “Alarming it did so even with Rosaria under his control,” Tyler commented under his breath.  Elwin hummed in thought.

        “Perhaps we have lost slightly less to the Blight.  Maybe.  Were that true, it is hardly noticeable and certainly not worth fighting over yet.”

        Clive was a far better student of war than of politics.  If his father didn’t know, he felt sure the answer was not an obvious one he could pluck of the air.  There was something he said that was bothering him, though.  The nations of Valisthea revolved around the Mothercrystals.  Rosaria was the only one who did not control one.  There were only a few base reasons why anyone courted war.  Religion, money, and land.  Although Sanbreque loved Greagor, they were not the kind to proselytize through force like the Iron Kingdom did.  Sanbreque was one of the wealthiest nations and Rosaria would have contributed comparatively little to their coffers, especially under the vicereine.  Land was a viable option considering the Blight, but his father was right.  It wasn’t so severe just yet as to warrant a move like this.  That left only a Mothercrystal, the single thing every nation controlled save the one Sylvestre had taken over.  It made little sense.  Unless…

        “I confess I had hoped with your future insight I might finally find an answer to this.”  Elwin sighed with resignation.  “Mayhap I am reading too much into—”

        “Drake’s Breath,” Clive suddenly whispered, not noticing he’d interrupted his father.  The pieces were beginning to click.  “What if he meant to continue on?” 

        “Clive?”  Jill looked at him curiously, not picking up on what he was trying to piece together.  Looking around the room he realized no one else was either.

        “If I remember rightly, Sylvestre is new to the throne and it took Dion’s awakening to secure it for him.  If he could get two Dominants and two Mothercrystals under his control, his position as emperor would be secured and Sanbreque’s place as the preeminent force in the Twins would be assured.  None would dare challenge him.”

        “Uh, maybe I’m stating the obvious,” Wade interjected, “but we don’t control Drake’s Breath.”

        “We do not, no.  Unless we were but a stepping stone along a bigger path.  He could not take the Spine from Waloed; they were too powerful with Odin at their head.  Dion could not best him even in our time.  The Tail would court war with the rest of Storm, a war he would not win.  Drake’s Fang is too far away to be feasible and too well protected, particularly now that Titan has made his presence known there.  Which he has if I remember correctly.”  His father nodded an agreement, which Clive was thankful for.  He knew little of Dhalmekian politics at present.  They’d had little reason for those lessons.  “That leaves only Drake’s Breath.  Sanbreque could easily topple the Iron Kingdom if they could reach it through better means.”

        “Through Rosaria,” Elwin surmised. 

        “Were this true, they did not follow through with it I take it.  Why?”  Clive recognized the look on Lord Murdoch’s face.  Like he was looking at a battle map and moving pieces into place to see what clicked and what did not.  He’d done that countless times himself.

        “Jill stopped them,” he answered simply. 

        “I did?”  Jill looked up in surprise, mentally sorting through battles he knew she didn’t want to remember.  But it wasn’t that.  Guilt still burned in his throat every time he thought about the day he’d found her again.  It always would.  He had been so close to…  “Oh,” she breathed.  “Nysa Defile.”  She reached for his hand, both taking some comfort in the warmth.

        “The Iron Kingdom had found a Dominant before the Empire could act and Sylvestre could not risk Bahamut on the other side of Storm.  I told you that Jill and I found each other in the Nysa Defile.  What I did not mention was that my squad had been sent there to kill her.  It was the first time the Empire knew in advance where Shiva’s Dominant would be.  We were often given nigh suicidal missions, but in this we were told either to finish the job or die trying.  Were we to return unsuccessful, we would wish for death.  So desperate were they to be rid of her they actually gave us some almost usable whetstones for our weapons.”  Clive held onto Jill’s hand with such desperation he was probably hurting her.  And she held on just as tight.  Taking a calming breath, he reminded himself that she was right there and that was a long time ago now.

        “Without me stationed at Mount Drustanus,” Jill continued, “they would have been able to safely move on the Iron Kingdom while Dion kept Odin busy.  I’d never considered the full implications until now.”  The room grew quiet, probably because of that revelation.  Of all the people in the world, it had been Clive that had been sent to kill her.  Of all the people in the world, it had been Jill he’d found.  Sometimes he looked at his own life and thought it ludicrous. 

        “You’ve handled that reunion well,” Wade snarked eventually.  Clive and Jill laughed at the much appreciated levity. 

        “If they had the opening, why did they not take it?”  Once again Lord Murdoch was trying to see the play on the invisible map.

        “They never had a chance,” Clive answered.  “Cid, Jill, and myself destroyed Drake’s Head not long after and an aether flood followed, forcing them to abandon Oriflamme completely.  They no longer had the luxury of waiting or the time left to devote to such a demanding campaign.  So they courted war with the republic and moved south to the Crystaline Dominion.”

        “They broke the neutrality treaty anyway?” Tyler exclaimed in surprise.  Clive just scoffed.

        “If you’ve not noticed, Sylvestre cares little for treaties.”

        “I suppose you’ve a point.”

        “This seems as reasonable a cause as any,” Elwin interrupted.  “We would be fools to rely on future information without the events which sparked it, but I have yet to come up with anything as compelling.  This has therefore all been a long-winded way of saying that yes, this announcement is indeed a warning.  I see no benefit to the fall of the duchy for the republic.  We have far too much trade with them.  Which leaves Sylvestre Lesage as the most likely to take notice.  By telling all about events here, he will quickly learn that not only has he failed and that we know, we outnumber his Dominants.  Sanbreque is now surrounded by two Dominants in Rosaria and three in Waloed,, as far as he knows.  While this might make him a dangerously caged animal, it is my hope it will keep him in check for at least a little while if we do not make any overtures against him.  As much as I dislike taking action by using you all like warning pawns in a grand game, that is unfortunately the world in which we yet live.”

        “I doubt he would send Dion here anytime soon at the least,” Joshua said thoughtfully.  “He is too young to truly be a threat to two Dominants and is still Sylvestre’s only heir at present.  Should I be incorrect, however, I may yet be able to plead our case with him.  I remember Dion as sensible and honorable even at this age.  He will hear me out.  I have little doubt of that.”

        “Did he not fight Ultima with you?” Tyler asked.  Clive nodded, followed by Joshua.  “A thought occurs to me.  Would it not be possible that he could also be in the same situation as yourselves?”  Clive’s mind went absolutely blank at the suggestion.  Only to be filled with too many thoughts rushing through fast as a raging river to properly sort through.  Others who also knew of their former lives?  Never had he thought such a thing conceivable.  It would undoubtedly make their work easier, at least if Dion knew.  He huffed somewhat nervously.  No, that was wishful thinking. 

        “I cannot imagine that happening,” he finally admitted.  “That would be insanity to think it would go that far, would it not?”  Despite telling himself that, repeating it over and over in his mind, he still looked to Joshua for confirmation.  His brother shook his head sadly.

        “I am unfortunately inclined to agree.  The Phoenix has already done the impossible.  Thrice over, no less.  I saw Dion fall on Origin.  I was certain, am certain of his fate there.  Would that I was wrong, but alas.  The Phoenix cannot revive the dead under normal circumstances; I cannot imagine it would work here.  Granted I also died, but it was at least my own Eikon.  That makes…some small semblance of logic.”  His lips twisted into a frown.  “I think.”

        “Would this be a good time to ask about the Apodytery?” Wade asked before the speculation could continue.  Which was fine.  They could not count on Dion’s help any more than anyone else’s.  Not until they persuaded them.  “I don’t really understand how the Phoenix could do something independently.  I thought you were the Phoenix, your highness.”

        “That is conventional wisdom, yes.”  Joshua pulled a flicker of Phoenix flame into his palm, twisting it around to study.  “I can of course only speak to my own Eikon, but I imagine it is the same for us all.  Never has it expressed anything I would consider will or feeling.  It has certainly never spoken to me.  And yet what we saw in the depths of the Apodytery would have been impossible for Clive or myself to create.  Therefore it could only have been the Phoenix, which, I might add, I could not feel within me in the midst of those visions.”

        “Nor could I find the Blessing,” Clive inserted.  Allowing Joshua to lead this part of the conversation, he got up to pour himself a drink.

        “It was almost as if it pulled us into itself or into its mind.  It showed us the Founder.  Literally the Founder of legend, building his shelter atop a hill.  It showed us the love the people have always had for the Phoenix and the coronation of the first Archduke because of it.  And then…”

        “Origin,” Clive finished quietly when Joshua trailed off with a visible gulp.  “Could have done without seeing that again,” he muttered into his drink.  Would that he could forget all that blood…

        “Father?” Joshua said gently.  Clive looked up to find his father studying him, question in his eyes that he couldn’t force from his lips.  “Do not ask.  I assure you, you do not wish to know these details.”

        “And were I to disagree?” he stubbornly argued.

        “It will bring you naught but pain.”  A moment passed before he nodded, accepting Joshua’s wisdom. 

        “So visions of events you could not know followed by those you did,” Lord Murdoch said in his stead.  “How does this result in the Phoenix breaking time itself?”

        “I would not have understood had it not spoken,” Joshua answered.

        “The Phoenix…spoke?”  This might be the first time Clive could recall ever seeing the Lord Commander at a complete loss for words.

        “Through me, yes.  I remember every word vividly.  It was adamant it be both heard and understood.  I felt sorrow and abject despair that I am certain was neither mine nor Clive’s.  Indeed, it should not have been there even if it were.  I had not thought aether could carry emotion.  What I think significant, however, is when it chose to be known.  After I died, the amount of aether Clive released back into the world was far beyond anything I could have imagined.”  He let out a breath, a look on his face which Clive was desperately trying to name anything other than pure awe.  “I knew that in the end he had wielded all the collected aether of the Mothercrystals, all the might of eight Eikons, as well as all the power of Ultima’s essence, yet it never prepared me for the reality of that aether flow.  Not even I could truly comprehend its magnitude and that was mere illusion.  I am confident the reality of what I saw exceeds it still.”

        “Hardly the point, Joshua,” Clive chided him uncomfortably.

        “I do not think so, Brother.  I am certain that unimaginable amount of aether had something to do with this as that is when the Phoenix made its presence known.”

        “For those of us who can’t feel aether,” Tyler asked slowly.

        “And those who can,” Jill murmured in the space of his breath.

        “Could you liken it to something we might understand?”  Joshua began to speak, then pursed his lips in search of a decent comparison. 

        “Think of using aether as draining water.  Were an average Bearer to attempt to channel as much aether as they could, they would like as not struggle after a pond’s worth.  Were I to attempt the same, I could most like drain the Port Isolde harbors and its tributaries dry before it became a strain.  What I felt from Clive was more akin to draining the Boiling Sea entirely.”  And now everyone was staring at him.  Silently he pleaded with no one in particular for this conversation to just be over already.

        “You really channeled that much aether?” Jill timidly asked, worry creasing her features.

        Probably more, he thought.  But that he most certainly was not going to say.

        “I still fail to see the relevance.”

        “It is relevant, Brother, because I believe that might have triggered something within the Eikon itself.  It is speculation to the highest degree, but what if our Eikons carry some small shred of their Dominants with them to the next incarnation?  What if we were able to see those visions because they were memories of my predecessors?  What might happen with a massive influx of aether that heretofore would have been impossible to withstand?”

        “Just what are you trying to say, Joshua?” Elwin asked.  Clive was frankly curious as well.  He could see the glint of excitement in his brother’s eyes.  Already he knew he wouldn’t like this.  Yet he couldn’t help but think of those dear to him calling out when he fought Ultima.  He’d heard them.  Maybe the idea might have some merit.

        “I’m saying that I think Clive may have given the Phoenix free will.”  Clive barely stopped himself choking on his drink.  That was a far greater feat than he’d been expecting to hear.

        “That’s ridiculous, Joshua.”  Right?  He scoffed and lifted the pitcher to refill his cup, ignoring the fact that it did not need it.  He just needed the distraction from the stares and the situation.  It was easy to say it was ridiculous.  It was ridiculous.  He believed that.  He did.  Capable of insane feats he may admittedly be, this was one thing that was absolutely impossible.  Most would agree that such an act would make him akin to a god and that was just as ludicrous.  But if he believed this an impossible speculation, why was his hand trembling around the pitcher?

        “Mayhap it is,” Joshua agreed.  “Yet the timing of it all does make me wonder at the possibility.”  Lord Murdoch groaned in utter frustration, something else Clive had never heard from him.

        “Might we table this detail before my head splits from the headache it is giving me?  If we are confident the Phoenix is involved, why would it send you back?  Please tell me that is more obvious.”

        “It is,” Joshua answered.  “To save those who loved it.”  Seeing the change in topic that was far too slow in coming, Clive abandoned his cup on the table and returned to his seat, jumping into the explanation if for no other reason than to stop thinking about what Joshua had said.

        “We think it meant to save not only us but Rosaria as a whole.”

        “We’ve done that already, have we not?” Wade asked.  “Between Phoenix Gate and the Iron Kingdom, we’ve done much to pull the duchy back from the brink.”  He frowned and leaned in closer to Clive.  “Right?  Please tell me we’ve done it.”

        “Insofar as we are aware for the time being, yes.”  Wade leaned back dramatically.

        “Thank the Founder.”  They had done much, but there was so much more looming.  His small smile at Wade’s reaction faded.

        “That said, there are still threats out there.  There is no avoiding it.  The Mothercrystals will have to come down and Ultima dealt with.  Even were I to ignore Ultima, he would eventually find me.  I do not wish to see what the aftermath of that might look like.  Luckily, Jill has an idea of where to begin before that day comes.”  He laid a hand on her back to urge her forward.

        “I did.  We lived in the deadlands for years and are now accustomed to living without magic.  While none of us were experts in the things that kept us alive, I believe if we pool our knowledge we may be able to replicate enough to begin the process of ending Rosaria’s reliance on magic.  With luck, we can better prepare everyone for what will happen when the Mothercrystals fall before those mundane solutions are needed.”

        “Losing magic did create chaos everywhere.”  Joshua crossed his arms, one finger on his chin in thought.  “Were we better able to prepare even a small part of the population, it will indeed be a much smoother process.  A smart plan, Jill.  I spent a great deal of time roaming the hideaway and learned much of the processes needed to survive in the Bennumere.  Hopefully I will remember enough of the specifics.”

        “How do we even begin an undertaking like this?” Lord Murdoch asked quickly.  “Few would willingly part with their crystals or Bearers.”

        “It will be difficult, but this could work,” Elwin said quietly after some thought.  “I had already begun considering plans for much the same.  If we begin the process here in the castle, it may spread.  The High Houses do love their current fashion trends.  With some luck it will catch on.  This cannot be done by force until desperate need compels us lest we risk revolt.  Perhaps if we could bring Byron into the plot.  I told him some of what has happened, but I said nothing of the more complex events.”

        “Uncle Byron helped us a great deal,” Clive quickly answered.  “He worked to undermine Mother’s rule as he could before he found Joshua and I lived.  Then he worked to aid our outlaws as well and more besides.  I’ve little doubt he would be just as valuable in this considering his trade connections.”

        “The greater question is will Lord Byron believe any of it.”  Tyler eyed Clive, Jill and Joshua.  “We had the luxury of not being given a choice but to believe.”

        “If Clive does the talking, I imagine he will.”  Jill giggled at Clive’s immediate scowl. 

        “That’s not funny, my lady.”

        “It’s not untrue, my flame.”  The way she deliberately chose her words only deepened his scowl.

        “Would the two of you care to enlighten the rest of us?” Joshua asked.

        “Apparently Clive had no idea he was a terrible liar until we met with Byron that first time.”  Now Jill was outright laughing at Clive’s continued scowling.  “He readily believed every word simply because it was Clive who said it.”

        “Really?  You never knew?”  Joshua cocked his head in disbelief.  “It is a wonder only the Undying found you in the Empire.”  A sudden flash of righteous fury sparked deep in Clive’s heart, remembering the torment he’d undergone to be gifted that name.  What they swore was a gift of acceptance was nothing less than torture and attempts to break him.  He only accepted it when it became clear he would never escape without it.  The only reason he did not use his own name was the lashings he would get if he tried.

        “I never hid my name of my own accord,” he snapped angrily.  Joshua held his palms out to placate him and Clive immediately felt guilty.

        “I’m sorry.  Forgive me, Brother.  That was careless and unkind.”  Clive sighed, distractedly running his thumb along his cheek where the brand once was.

        “No, I’m sorry.  Remnants of an old anger I would do well to quench.” 

        “If Byron is alright with you,” Elwin said slowly, calling attention away from that outburst.  Clive gave him a small nod of gratitude.  “I have thought of calling a summit of sorts to explain the whole of your circumstances to those few that would benefit from such knowledge.  Byron for one.  I would have called him here today had he not been needed back in Port Isolde.  I had also thought to include the head of the Undying and perhaps Lochlan in case something happens.”

        “Uncle Byron I have no reservations about,” Joshua agreed with a frown.  “It would take little for Lochlan to begin raising questions not only where I am concerned, but also Clive and Jill’s status as sudden Dominants as well.  We may be left with little choice in the matter.  There is also the possibility that this time travel situation could have effects we do not expect.  However, I am reluctant to include more of the Undying without need.  I fear their inclination to record everything surrounding the Phoenix could lead to problems we could not anticipate.  If I learned nothing in my search for Ultima, it is that a secret is kept best when it is not written.  Their reach would be useful, but I think they will follow my order without a need for explanation.”

        “We can discuss the specifics of precisely whom to bring in later,” Elwin agreed.

        “Um, I also had a thought for later,” Wade said.  With a gesture from the Archduke, he continued.  “I’ve been thinking that if we have the gift of time, it might benefit us to prepare in other ways as well.  I was thinking perhaps I might try pulling together a few of the Shields for extra training or hunting or something just to be ready when we are needed.  With the Lord Commander’s permission, of course.  Maybe one day we can have a branch in the Shields for more difficult tasks.  Something to work for like First Shield except a group rather than a position.  Guardians when we’ve need of them, as it were.”

        “I rather like that idea,” Clive said with a knowing smirk to Jill.  Wade was doing it again, wasn’t he?  This was the man who rallied Shields and fought back against the Empire rather than the worried young Shield he’d been just a week ago. 

        “These are things we can move on in addition to developing non-magical technologies,” Elwin said, changing the subject.  Bringing others into this conspiracy is no small decision and creating Guardians will take time.  In the meantime, might I suggest the continuation of what happened in this prior timeline?”

Chapter Text

        Jill was exhausted by the time their meeting was finally over and they had finished telling the rest of their story.  It had been a long time coming, though they did leave out some of the worst details.  Just the ones they didn’t really need to know about and that she, Clive, or Joshua were not keen to relive.  That meant much of those thirteen years were glossed over.  No one said anything of the omission, perhaps gathering that it was best not to ask too many questions.  Given Clive’s reaction to Joshua’s jab, it was an easy conclusion to reach, she supposed.  There was still  a lot to go over.  It did actually make it easier to have the biggest revelations out of the way already.  The rest was simply filling in the gaps.  They had, unsurprisingly, been stunned that Rosalith’s greatest threat in the end was Hugo Kupka rather than Sanbreque or the Iron Kingdom and that it was purely vendetta.  She also noticed a distinct absence of the Guardians of the Flame.  That she made a mental note of to ask why Clive had chosen to skip that part.

        All she wanted to do at the moment was spend a quiet evening with Clive where she didn’t have to think about any of this.  But there was one more thing she needed to do first.  She hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with the Archduke yet and this needed doing.  Her heart was in her throat as others left the sitting room and she whispered to Clive that she would see him later.  His knowing, heartwarming smile gave her a bit of courage.  Before she lost it, she caught the Archduke alone.

        “Your Grace?  If you have a moment, I have one more personal thing to discuss.”  With a sad smile he poured two drinks and passed one to her.  The role of Archduke that he had worn like armor all day had been getting dents in it throughout their story, but now he leaned against a table as if he no longer had the strength to keep it up.

        “I do hope it is more pleasant conversation than what we have been privy to.  I have long since moved past heartache hearing of your stories.”

        “It is more pleasant.  Or so I hope.  I have been giving some thought to our last conversation.  I would also like to have something different I might call you, at least in private.”  There were the nerves again.  She took a long drink from her cup, wishing it were wine rather than cider.

        “I take it you have thought of something acceptable?”

        “I have,” she nodded.  Growing up she’d been told a man would ask a woman’s father for permission to wed.  At the time it sounded wonderful and romantic.  Never had she considered how nerve-wracking it must be for the man to go through with it.  That was not what was happening here, yet it certainly felt similar.  It was an open acknowledgement of their relationship, a step toward becoming an actual member of their family rather than a ward of the duchy.  She, Clive, the Archduke, even Joshua would know exactly what this was the prelude to, what it meant for them all.  A bit of role reversal, to be sure.  But her parents were already gone, though she knew Clive would ask if he could.  Knowing him, he would want to ask for her hand properly.  “Our lives have ever been complicated, it seems.  Now that complexity has grown to the frankly ridiculous leaving us all in some awkward positions.  Were we still the adults we perceive ourselves to be, I would have liked to have the privilege of calling you Father.”  Jill couldn’t look at him even though she knew she should.  Because she didn’t, she missed the surprised glance followed by an understanding warmth. 

        “Might this have something to do with the affections of a certain son of mine?”

        “Yes,” she squeaked.  Her cheeks burned so hot she could be forgiven for thinking Ifrit was behind her.  “We understand our relationship cannot be anything approaching normal.  We have agreed to accept some of the customary expectations of our physical ages and so I am not yet asking what it sounds.  But the fact is Clive and I love each other very much.  I cannot imagine a way, time, nor place that will change.  Eventually we likely will…”

        “Jill, you can stop now.”  She clamped her lips together to stop the rambling, biting her tongue a little in the process.  That hadn’t exactly been a speech she’d planned to give.  “I will be blunt with you.  There are often rules for courting and relationships among the nobility that I imagine you would not remember, if you ever knew.”  Jill suppressed a wince, suddenly fearing what was to come.  The Archduke sighed and set his cup aside.  “And many of those rules are precisely how I ended up married to Annabella.  I have a duchy that barely survived, the coming god the three of you portend, and the growing Blight to contend with.”  He stepped closer to her and lifted her chin with his knuckle.  “I will gladly make this my own, personal rebellion against the world we know.  You have both been through so much.  I cannot be the one to stand between you now.  I would be honored for you to call me Father, in every way you mean it.  And I will be even more so when the time comes to make it official.”  When Jill smiled, he pulled her into a firm hug.

        “Thank you.  F-Father…  This may take some adjustment,” she giggled.

        “For us both, my dear.  Just do me one favor.”  She pulled back to look at him, waiting on whatever it was he might ask.  He was being so supportive of this insane situation, how could she refuse much of anything?  “Try not to give the staff the recipe for salacious gossip, would you?  So long as you do not get caught going to his room every night, I doubt any will say much.”  Jill’s face reddened again.  How had he known about that already?

        “What did Jill need with Father?” Joshua asked once outside the sitting room.  “Is everything alright?”

        “Hm?  Oh, yes, fine.”  Without knowing exactly how this would play out, Clive was hesitant to commit to the idea yet.  He was fairly certain Father would gladly agree, but Jill had been nervous anyway.  Despite her nerves, she’d refused his offer to stay with her while she spoke to him.  She wanted to do this on her own terms, as she’d said.  It was hard to argue with her when she used phrases like that.  Not that he fully understood exactly why it meant so much to her to go alone.

        “You are withholding something from me again.”

        “Nothing troubling, I assure you.”

        “Clive.”

        “Joshua.”

        “Tell me.”

        “Why?”

        “Because if it were nothing you would not be waiting.”

        “Shall I point out you are waiting as well?”

        “Of the two of us, only one knows what is going on.”

        “You are reading too much into this.”

        “Then it should be no—”  Joshua suddenly stopped, sucking in a quick breath.  Following his gaze, Clive just barely caught a girl ducking around a corner.

        “Was that…”

        “Jote, yes.  I thought I saw her yesterday as well and had written it off.  Now I begin to wonder if she has not been following me.”

        “You mean your former Attendant is stalking you?”  Clive didn’t bother to hide the reticence and mild distaste from his voice.  Granted she was younger now, but he had thought her better than this.

        “No, not exactly.  If I still know her, which I do admit is a real question, I would suspect this is reconnaissance.  She is looking for answers.”

        “Answers?  To what?”

        “Why she knows things about me.  Jote has ever been curious about many things, though she endeavors to contain it when not appropriate.  If she has realized this as an inexplicable occurrence that may have more to it…”  Clive could only sigh. 

        “Joshua, I know you wish her to have a life her own, but I fear you may need to act sooner than you want.  You cannot let her follow you around the castle for want of information until she either figures it out on her own or is dismissed for neglecting her duties.”

        “And tell her what, Clive?” he snipped.  “My Eikon may have imparted something upon her mind for unknown reasons?  That she must continue following in my shadow because of it?  No, it would be more merciful to allow the mystery to continue while she remains safe in the infirmary.  This will all be a bizarre incident she will forget about soon enough.”  Clive chanced a look at his brother and saw exactly what he was afraid of.  Guilt and fear.  He was going to keep her away for her own benefit without knowing how she felt about it.  Founder, how familiar that sounded.  Was that the wise decision in this case?  It was too soon to tell.  The door opened then and Jill smiled broadly at him.  Thoughts of Joshua and Jote were instantly shelved for another day.  There was no question of what that smile meant.

        “Told you.”  He winked at her.

        “Jill, will you please tell me what is going on?”  She looked between them, confused.  Clive shrugged.

        “He was worried something was wrong.”

        “You could have told him.”

        “Perhaps I did not wish to jinx anything.”

        “Or perhaps you are playing pranks.”

        “Me?  Play a prank?  Perish the thought, my lady.”

        “That’s it.  I’m going to bed.”  Joshua turned his back with an exasperated sigh.  Jill, taking pity, didn’t let him get very far.

        “Joshua!  Wait!”  She grasped his arm to ensure he stopped.  “Let’s go to our room.  I’ll explain.”  He studied her a moment, grin playing at his lips as he surely heard exactly what Clive did, then followed.

        “Our room?” Clive murmured teasingly, catching Jill’s slip.  Not that he would correct her.  She’d not slept in her own room since he left the infirmary.  Without hesitation she nodded.

        “I know what I said.  Father also knows.  He said as long as I’m not caught often enough to create gossip, he doesn’t mind.”  That was surprising.  Clive assumed that when he realized where Jill was sleeping every night he would put a stop to it out of propriety.  Considering Clive himself had thought much the same, he couldn’t even blame his father.  It was a relief to hear otherwise.  Looking around for others, and finding no one watching, he surreptitiously slipped a single finger around Jill’s as they walked, smiling at the not-so-bold display.  “While it’s still on my mind, why did you not mention the Guardians earlier?”

        “Because he’s almost done it again.  I don’t want Wade to feel like he’s only living up to what he already did.  I won’t take this away from him.”  That was Wade’s achievement and one to be proud of.  If Clive told him he’d already rallied Shields to him, he was afraid he wouldn’t take such pride in it.  It would be only a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.  Later, when he’d formed his Guardians of the Flame, Clive would tell him.  He wasn’t sure Jill understood, but she was at least willing to trust his judgement when it came to the business of Shields.

        Torgal was laying outside Clive’s door when they arrived.  With everything they had to address today, a wolf pup would, unfortunately, only cause interruptions.  He bounded to his feet the moment he saw them, darting and weaving between their legs and panting happily.  Once inside, Clive lit the fire and sat in the floor with Torgal, picking up a wooden ball and rolling it across the room for the wolf to chase.  Jill pulled her legs up onto the sofa to keep out of the way while Joshua sat in the opposite chair.

        “Now then.  What are you hiding from me?”

        “I am hiding nothing from you,” Jill answered.  “I never called your father anything but ‘Your Grace.’  We thought it time that changed.  I wanted his permission before acting on it.  Simple as that.”  It was anything but that simple and Clive knew it.  She wouldn’t have been so nervous if it truly was.  Of course, he had been just a bit too.  Although he was confident in the result, it was a big step.

        “And what did you decide upon that necessitated such secrecy?” Joshua asked as if he might already know the answer.  Jill glanced shyly at Clive.

        “Father,” she said softly.  Joshua looked between the two of them, putting the pieces together.  Or seeming to.  Clive had a suspicion most of this was an act and he’d figured it out in the hallway.  Joshua always was smarter than they.

        “Did you two…”

        “At our age, Brother?  No.  Something in between where we were and a formal engagement.”  Were they to get engaged officially, Clive was determined to do it right.  And he might already have a few ideas. 

        “It’s nothing so official,” Jill agreed.  “It’s just, were we still our adult selves, I would have wanted to call him that for much the same reasons.  He was quite agreeable to it.”  Suddenly Jill started chewing on her lip and wringing her hands.  “Do you mind?” 

        “Well, I fear I may need to place some conditions upon this agreement, even if you’ve made it with Father.”  Joshua’s tone was suddenly grave.  Oh, he was definitely torturing them for earlier.  Unfortunately Jill didn’t seem to pick up on that quite so swiftly.

        “You do mind, don’t you?”  Jill’s voice was soft, bordering on crestfallen.  Clive narrowed his eyes at Joshua and looked to Jill.

        Enough teasing.  Joshua nodded an acknowledgement, slightly turning his lips to a frown.

        Sorry.

        “I only mind,” he said aloud, “if I am barred from calling you my sister.”  Jill gasped, face lighting up.

        “You…!  I was actually worried for a moment!”

        “A small repayment for earlier.  Sister.”

        “Then should you not be tormenting Clive?  Brother?”

        Joshua said something in return, but Clive wasn’t listening.  He was content to just watch their smiles and the slight glisten in their eyes both were determined to ignore.  It sounded so right coming from them.  They were a family.  Properly a family, or at least as much as they could be under the circumstances.  There was a time when Clive had thought he would never see such a thing.  Phoenix Gate left him with absolutely nothing save a hatred that consumed his soul, a dark abyss he tried very hard not to peer into even now lest it drag him back down into the depths, proving his happiness was a dream concocted to torture him.  It had taken him years to climb out of that abyss.  As he watched Jill and Joshua laughing, though, he could feel it finally begin to shrink for the first time rather than simply be ignored.  Alive.  Happy.  Together.

        Thank you, Phoenix.  He thought he felt something like a purr in his chest, but it was probably just the vibration of Torgal growling playfully with Clive’s fingers in his mouth, trying to get him to roll the ball again.

        Elwin’s bedroom was blessedly quiet.  After the day’s events, he needed that quiet.  No, perhaps that was not exactly why he needed it.  Their meeting had been productive.  Barring the strange nature of their conversations, it was little different than any other strategy meeting.  There was much to do and countless decisions to be made that they could ill afford to take their time with.  Yet what his mind continually circled back to was his children.  They finally felt safe enough and comfortable enough to share the rest of their story.  It would have been unbelievable had they not already shared what they had.  They were so much stronger than he could have predicted they’d be.

        On the return trip from the north, before the Phoenix intervened, Elwin had reached a decision.  The Blight was the greatest threat to their duchy and if it cannot be stopped, it must be managed.  If anyone could find a way to withstand the coming calamity, he was certain it would be Rosarians.  All Rosarians.  Together.  What he had thought to set in motion might well make him the most ridiculed, if not outright hated, Archduke in their history.  It sickened him to know that burden would pass to his sons.  Never could he have ever imagined they would take up that mantle without him, and on an even grander scale than his wildest dreams could have shown.

        Not even Rodney had known of his plans when he made them.  He trusted his friend with more than his life, but such was the gravity of what he would soon undertake.  The last weeks had given him much he could never forget.  The feeling he got on that trip was one of them.  To stand upon the edge of Blighted lands which had been lush and green just a year ago, looking out at the forlorn expanse of emptiness before him.  The complete lack of life.  Surely this was the sight of death creeping ever closer, one stray leaf at a time counting the inevitable and unavoidable end of them all.  This was the future he was leaving his boys.  Despair should have filled him.  Any parent would have lamented the unstoppable.  Any ruler would have feared the coming chaos.  And both those things did press against him for a moment.  In a flash of indignation they were burned away.  He refused to allow the Blight to scare him.  Let him be called Elwin the Mad.  Let him live out his days forever watching the shadows for those who couldn’t understand.  There was a way to weather this.  He was certain.

        There was only one thing that truly worried him, for he knew his sons would grow to understand.  When he told Clive that war was coming, he meant more than Drake’s Breath.  That was merely the first step.  They were going to need the Mothercrystal for what came next.  All eyes would be on Rosaria when he enacted his plans to support non-magical research.  But the moment he freed Bearers, he was certain war would follow.  Sanbreque would likely lead that outbreak of war.  The treaty signed by their forebears was binding.  All countries honored it.  Rosaria would be the first to break it.  They would struggle against Sanbreque.  They may not survive if Dhalmekia joined the fray.  Sending his people to slaughter to save them from another threat.  He hated it.  He hated knowing the Phoenix would be needed and Clive would lead the charge for his brother.  But at least this way there was a chance.  There was no negotiating with the Blight.

        Overnight all those plans became even more necessary.  What Ewin planned, his sons had done without even knowing his intentions.  He had, apparently, never been able to tell them.  Now, they needed his idea more than ever for the threat was far more dire.  Instead of the disgust he felt knowing his children would have to finish what he began, they comforted him.  He did not feel alone.  Now he had different reasons to worry for them.  Listening to them speak broke his heart.  A common turn of phrase it may be, but it was quite apt here.  His chest ached for them.  He was furious for them.  He despaired for them. 

        To see the small flashes of absolute fury pass through Clive’s eyes.  To see the downcast loneliness Joshua tried so hard to hide.  To see the cold, emotionless way Jill sometimes spoke of herself.  It was all so completely the opposite of the children he’d known.  Clive was always calm, Joshua loved, and Jill warm.  In the deep recesses of his mind, in the impulsive part of him he had long since tucked away, he wanted to burn Sanbreque and the Iron Kingdom to the ground for hurting them so badly.  There was some comfort to be had, thank the Founder.  Somehow as the world around them grew more dire, their faces grew brighter.  They’d found each other and that was the greatest gift any of them could ask for.  That small thing allowed Elwin to grasp the handle of the figurative knife in his heart in hopes of wrenching it free.  Jill unknowingly helped tug a little further when she called him Father.  A spoken remnant of what they had found on their own: a family.  He was honored and grateful to be included. 

        The sharp pain of their reality was fading only to be replaced by something else.  The icy grip of dread.  They told him all that happened and it was more than he could bear.  But in the end, it was a story.  He hadn’t watched it, hadn’t seen them grow and change.  He’d had faith Clive and Joshua could withstand the trials of court when he was gone so long as they remained united.  That faith gave him the strength to do what must be done in spite of his misgivings and unwillingness to place such a burden upon them.  Did he also have the strength to watch them undertake this challenge?  He would have to watch the three of them venture out alone, for surely there was no stopping even one of them from following where the other two lead.  He would have to endure more nights pleading for their health in the silence of the infirmary.  He would have to fear for their safety more and more.  A day may well come when he would have to see them away from his side to fight a god that had already killed them once.  Was he strong enough for that?  His children may yet save the world.  Elwin just prayed to the Founder that he could bear to let them do it.

        Tyler walked through the halls of the Shield barracks for the first time since they’d left Rosalith weeks ago.  After days in the infirmary and a couple more resting at home, he was glad to be back.  Those he passed in the hallway eagerly clapped him on the arms with broad smiles, welcoming him and saying how glad they were he’d recovered.  He was the first of the wounded back on his feet, so everyone was understandably excited.  It had been years since Shields were attacked like that.  Not since the Northern Territories had been subdued. 

        “Oi!  Tyler’s back!” one of them jabbed.  “Maybe now the rest o’ us can get a proper break!”

        “I sincerely doubt that, Vince,” Tyler jabbed back.  “Not unless you have suddenly stopped causing a ruckus at the taverns and picking up extra shifts because of it.”

        “Bit below the belt, en’t it?”  Vince was grinning nonetheless and Tyler continued toward his own room.  Grateful for some semblance of normality, he pushed the door open to hear Wade’s immediate, and rather theatrical, lamenting.

        “Just when I was getting used to having a room to myself!”  He sighed loudly, prompting an amused smile from Tyler.  Even this was a welcome bit of normality.  “I suppose I’ll just have to accept once again having a roommate in this spacious suite.”

        “You’ve not been here yourself, Wade.  Spare me the theatrics.”

        “Well, I was a couple nights.”  Grinning, Wade rolled off his bed to clasp Tyler’s arm.  He could feel the heartfelt welcome in the gesture, more than anyone else he’d encountered, even though they had just left each other not long ago.  None of them knew what they did and that created a unique friendship.  “In all seriousness, you did not tell me you were returning.  I would have waited for you after our meeting.”

        “I was not certain of it,” he said, letting go of Wade’s arm and beginning to place his gear on the racks.  “Although if I had to spend another evening with Valerie’s gossip, I like as not would have left of my own accord.”  Tyler loved his sister, he truly did.  But their personalities did not always go well together for long periods of time.  While he was quiet and thoughtful, Valerie was loud and expressive, eager to share every thought going through her mind at frightening speed.

        “You sure you two are related?  Or did Lady Valerie just get all your words when she was born?”

        “She shares much with our late father.  He was ever the socialite of our house.  Whereas I inherited our mother’s demeanor.”

        “Mayhap I need to show you a thing or two from our family.  Learn to tell her when to shut her gob.”

        “Simply because you and your sisters are perfectly content to lovingly shout obscenities at one anther does not mean I would enjoy telling Valerie to shut her gob, as you put it.”  Wade snickered behind him, knowing full well Tyler struggled with the high energy of his family as much as his own sister’s, and sat on his bed, drawing a familiar creak from the frame as he leaned against the wall.  “Tell me of these Guardians you intend to create.”  While it was mostly to change the subject, he was intrigued by the idea given what the lord marquess had told him. 

        “Glad you asked since I was already counting on you.”  Wade chuckled one more time before settling into a more serious tone.  “I figured we could start with the obvious.  There were, what, six others in the courtyard that night at Phoenix Gate who saw Ifrit?  The two of us, the six of them.  They were already sworn to secrecy so it should be an easy matter to persuade them that we need to be ready for anything.”

        “After a second Eikon of fire, anything is possible,” Tyler agreed.  “It should be an easy premise.”  The last of his gear in place, he sat on his bed and leaned on his knees.

        “It would also make it easier for something else I’ve been considering.  Haven’t had the courage to ask yet, though.”  Tyler cocked an eyebrow.

        “You?  This must be impressive if even you haven’t mustered the ability to speak.”  Wade leaned his head back on the wall behind him with an audible thump, studying the wall above Tyler’s head rather than looking at him.

        “It’s pretty big,” he murmured.  A quiet moment passed and when he did speak, it was the nervous quiet of a secret which might change everything.  “You think Ifrit and Shiva are capable of Blessings too?”

        “You wish to ask the very people who eradicated magic to bestow magic upon you?”

        “Us, actually, if you were open to the idea.  But I’ve been thinking about it, yes.”  Tyler truly had no idea what to say in that moment.  It was mad enough to ask for a Blessing, even in Rosaria.  There were stories of Shields who thought themselves the best and asking for the Blessing of the Phoenix because of it, but they never went far.  This was beyond even that idea, though.  This wasn’t the Phoenix.  This was new and unheard of.  This was asking for trouble.  And Wade honestly thought Tyler might be a part of this?  The one between them who had very nearly resigned his own position had the Lord Commander allowed it?  “You heard what they said tonight.  Do you really think this will be easier just because we know some of what’s coming?  I said in the Hall of the Gate that it wasn’t right to leave everything to the Rosfields and I stand by that.”  Suddenly he sat forward urgently to lean across the space between their bunks until there was little space between them.  As if the air itself might whisper the secrets they discussed.  “Think about it.  What happens when the aether floods and the akashic make it here?  What happens when they have to deal with Odin or Ultima or maybe even Titan and all that’s left here are normal people.”

        “Wade, ignoring for a moment the magnitude of what you are proposing, a Dominant can only bestow one Blessing as far as I know, if they can at all.  What do you think two of us are going to do?”

        “I don’t know.  Maybe something.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe that’s not the point.  You think they let me come along to defend Rosalith thinking I could match their prowess?  I had an axe and a big mouth alongside three Dominants.  I don’t think it’s about what we can give in comparison but what we’re willing to do to try.  I wouldn’t look for magic if we still lived in the normal world but we don’t.  Their world is coming whether we like it or not, even if they can lessen the effects.  I’m willing to risk magic in that world to give me an edge when an axe isn’t enough.  If I can remove even one akashic threat from their list of worries, then I’ll think it a price well paid.  If they’re standing in front of us, guarding us from the threats we can’t face and risking the curse every time they do, then by the flames, someone needs to be guarding their backs while they do it.  Everyone in the Twins is just fine with letting Dominants fight battles they could never hope to win.  Maybe it’s time we showed that we were willing to fight for our Dominants just as much as they are us.”

        Wade huffed a little after finishing his impromptu speech and Tyler could only stare in amazement.  The man was a talker, of that there was no doubt.  But never had Tyler heard something like that from him.  He didn’t even sound like the same man.  It was as impulsive as expected and as planned as Tyler wished Wade would be.  And he couldn’t argue with it.  Not really.  To risk the same as their defenders where they could.  It was a bold idea.  Tyler did want to help them wherever he could.  Was this how far he was willing to take it?  Impulsive enthusiasm, Wade’s most annoyingly useful quality.  Knowing what he knew from the lord marquess, he could see how he was the one to rally the Shields rather than lie down for the Empire.  Perhaps it was time to take a little of that impulsive enthusiasm for himself.

        “I do not think they will readily agree to this given their opinions on magic.  But I do not think it a wholly terrible idea.  I heard once that those who can manipulate aether are more resistant to it.  That would surely prove useful eventually.”

        “Then maybe we get the Archduke and Lord Commander on our side first.  They’ll see the tactical use in it.  I’m sure of it.”

        “Until we do, we should ensure we both are at our best.  Blessings are not always gentle.  There is a reason the First Shield is always the strongest of us.”  Wade suddenly laughed, looking down at the floor.

        “Here I thought you’d be telling me this was a fool’s errand.”

        “It may yet be.”  Tyler shoved Wade’s shoulder with a playful grin and then stretched out on his bed.  The wooden slats of the ceiling above him were very familiar but he felt like he was an entirely different person when last he followed those grooves.  “I think neither of us are the same men we were,” he admitted softly.

        “Those three changed everything when they showed back up here, didn’t they?  And not just keeping us standing.  There’s something about them.  I don’t know what it is.”

        “Something that makes you want to be more than you were yesterday?”

        “Yeah.”  Wade blew out the candle on the table between them and Tyler heard the creak of his bed as he laid down.  “Do you regret being one the Lord Commander chose for the marshes?” 

        “I do not yet know,” he admitted with more honesty than he normally would have chosen.  Typically he would have preferred to maintain the calm mask of being prepared and in control.  He didn’t like vulnerability.  “Another war does not frighten me yet fighting for the future of the whole of humanity?  That is no small plot to be enmeshed in upon a whim of coincidence.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “I mean that we have both been taken into the confidence of three of the most physically powerful people in Valisthea and two of the most politically powerful men in the duchy simply because we happened to be chosen for the lord marquess’ first command and he therefore knew we were no traitors.  I question if I have done aught to have earned that trust myself.”

        “I think killing the traitor was a pretty good leap.”  Tyler winced in the dark.  The guilt was fading, but a few days were not enough for it to have vanished completely just yet.  “I’d have done the same, by the way.  Would’ve told you that and more a lot sooner had I been here.”

        “Do you regret being selected?” Tyler asked instead of spend further time on the subject.  He could almost feel Wade eyeing him at the obvious digression.

        “I don’t,” he answered after a moment of judgement.  “Thing is, we’re taught to revere Dominants and Eikons.  Barring that, they were Rosfields, the very people we’re sworn to protect.  And I did revere them, right up until I was facing a small army of Ironblood crusaders alongside them.  There was nothing about them to revere save their spectacular amount of power.  They were just like me: trying to save the people they care about.  I know there will be a line out there I cannot cross, a place I cannot follow.  When that day comes, I don’t want them worrying about Rosaria.  We’ll take care of that.  I’ve got a duty and a purpose I didn’t have before.  How can I regret that?”

        “Sounds like you’ve answered your questions from the Hall of the Gate, then.”

        “Well, impending disaster does have a way of putting your priorities in order rather quickly.”

        “Spoken true.”

Chapter Text

        The sight of Oriflamme stretching out before him was as beautiful as Dion remembered the view from his bedroom being.  The soft hues of the setting sun painted the stone in an array of warm colors and lamps being lit in the deepest sections of the city shone like the first stars in the night sky.  But it was impossible for him to enjoy the sight.  It was impossible to enjoy much of anything around him.  The knowledge of what loomed in the coming years had paralyzed him entirely.  He didn’t want to live through this again.  He couldn’t endure it.  The Empire would be razed by his own hand after being forced into a corner through events outside his control.  Dion had never seen any task as insurmountable, but to change anything he knew seemed wholly beyond him.  None gave him enough credence to influence anything and when the traitoress appeared, that would be the beginning of the end.  Ever had he tried to fight back when he disagreed but duty bound him tightly as a noose.  In the end he was little better than an arrow notched on a bowstring.  A weapon to be fired at someone else’s discretion.  He could see that now.  His only real value to anyone was as Bahamut.  Even his father believed that, though he at least had the decency to pretend otherwise.  For now.  Dion had always prided himself in that sense of duty, thinking good would come of it.  Now knowing otherwise he just couldn’t be his father’s weapon.  And he had no idea what to do about it.

        Ah, his father, His Radiance Sylvestre Lesage, Emperor of Sanbreque.  Always the emperor, rarely a real father.  That had easily been the most difficult part of this ordeal thus far.  Dion had been disoriented and confused when he woke up that morning.  He should be dead.  Why wasn’t he dead?  He scarcely recognized his room or the boy beside him trying to calm him.  Terence had apparently slept over the night before, a common occurrence in those days.  They’d often studied together late into the night.  Seeming to think Dion had woken from a nightmare, Terence was able to calm him somewhat.  At least enough to think for a moment.  He considered himself fortunate to have had a friend nearby.  Later, though, when Sylvestre had called for him, Dion saw the greater problems lurking.

        He had no idea what his father said to him that day nor what he might have said in return.  The moment he laid eyes on the man, the grief and guilt crashed upon him with such force he stumbled on his own feet walking into the throne room.  Continual repetitions of memory looped in his head in an uncontrollable torrent.  Over and over he felt the weight of his lance leaving his hand.  Heard the sickening sound of it landing in flesh it was never meant for.  Saw the blood drip to the carpet from his own weapon piercing his father.  And the shadow of a smile from that blasted boy behind him.  He wanted to scream or run, anything but stand there as calmly as he was yet he couldn’t move.  Through a greater will than he’d known he possessed he maintained his composure, save for clenching his fist so tightly his nails drew blood from his palm.  He’d practically run back to his room, at least making it to his chair before he outright fainted from the strain of the experience.  Unbecoming of a dragoon, perhaps, but there was no training to prepare for the shades of those you’d killed sitting before you, never knowing you will do it again.

        He was so lost.  Lost and lonely and broken and confused.  What was he supposed to accomplish here?  What could he alone even do?  The last fortnight had offered no clues or solace.  There was no one he could talk to about it.  How was one to explain that they remembered dying in a battle at the end of days only to awaken in bed as a boy of ten summers?  People had given him many lofty names over the years.  He currently felt none of them.  He didn’t feel himself at all.  Never had he been the type to bend to adversity.  Not even after his father lay dead and the empire crumbled to dust.  It had taken some time but he’d found his way forward again.  How disappointed Harpocrates would be in him now.  That wild wyvern tail meant as a show of faith meant nothing after all.  It was just as he’d always secretly feared: his strength was only skin-deep. 

        It was all a ruse.  An act for the people looking up to Bahamut.  They needed to see a figure of strength and so that was what he allowed them to see.  The Dominant of Bahamut could never be weak.  They saw what they wanted to see in the end.  That made him feel all the more weak and powerless now.  Bahamut could not fix the past nor force politicians to heed his words.  Even his own accomplishments among the Dragoons would not avail him here.  Long had he feared that his only strength came from his Eikon and that were he to stand as just a man he would be found wanting.  Now here he stood finding himself with his Eikon returned to him yet weaker than ever.  Was this his own personal hell bent on tormenting him for his sins?  Perhaps he should have expected as much.

        A rapid series of knocks rattled his door as it swung open and closed just as quickly, each knock pulling him out of that fearful spiral.  He knew the sound so well he didn’t need to turn from his study of the city to know it was Terence.  Every night he had been there even though Dion had little need for study.  Terence didn’t seem to mind and Dion was grateful for the company if only to keep his fears at bay.  The one person he didn’t feel guilty looking at.  He could only assume Terence realized the comfort his presence bestowed considering the trouble he went to night after night.  Most mornings as well since he slept over almost every night since Dion woke here.  He’d always been perceptive, though.  One of many reasons he’d been Dion’s second in command.

        “You are considerably early this evening, Terence,” he said.

        “With good reason.  Look at this.  I snagged it from one of our maids.  It’s all anyone can talk about today, but I had a feeling you hadn’t left your room to hear of it.”  Dion glanced over, taking note of the paper Terence was handing him.  He didn’t remember his friend being so blunt.  Not that Dion could contradict him.  He had indeed only left for meals.  That was true with increasing frequency of late.

        “What is it?” he asked taking the page.  Terence practically quivered with excitement for reasons Dion could not fathom.

        “It’s a general release to the public from Rosaria.”  Oh.  It would be about time for the news of Phoenix Gate to arrive.  The traitoress would not be far behind.  Curse that woman… 

        When last he read of the Night of Flames, he remembered being shocked and terrified.  Those brothers had been kind to him at the Remembrance Ceremony, though he’d had little interaction with the elder.  The Phoenix had struck a chord with him, however.  Always quick with a smile despite the cough ever lingering just behind.  Even then he could recognize the strength of his will.  Being the same age, they’d talked much about a great many things.  He even gave Dion a few tips for keeping his sanity as the heir apparent and chosen Dominant of his nation.  That connection, however brief, had meant a great deal to them both.  It was the single point of contact which later brought them together as allies.  At least he had the benefit of knowing they were not truly dead this time.  Perhaps he could do that much with his knowledge.  Ifrit would soon arrive here in Sanb…

        Dion couldn’t finish the thought.  When he began to read he immediately realized this was far from the news he had been expecting.  It propelled him bolt-straight from the slouched position he’d been in, breath rushing out of his lungs.  This missive came straight from Archduke Elwin Rosfield, a man who should by now be dead.

Good People of Rosaria,

            It is with some trepidation I pen this letter to you all.  While I do not wish to keep such lofty secrets from you, what I must reveal is no small matter and will undoubtedly cause great concern across the duchy.  I bid you hear me out fully before giving in to despair for it is my respect for Rosarians of all walks that compels me to be unabashedly candid.

            Not so long ago as I write this missive, our duchy faced a threat only narrowly avoided.  A conspiracy was hatched to depose me and remove both my sons from succession through a surprise attack on Phoenix Gate.  Although the attack did take place, it had little effect through some extremely fortunate circumstances.  I am in the uncomfortable position of telling you all that this attack was instigated from within my own house.  The duchess Annabella conspired against us all.  For that crime fate deemed her worthy of death in the midst of an attempted escape with her conspirators.  It shames me that she so nearly succeeded without my notice.

            Alas this was not our only close encounter.  Before we’d even a chance to return, Rosalith was beset by crusaders from the Iron Kingdom.  I will not lie to you, my people, even I feared the worst.  In that moment of need, however, my son Joshua brought forth the might of the Phoenix.  He alongside his brother and First Shield, Clive, and a brave volunteer in Sir Wade took flight to save the day.  Yet their victory would not have been possible alone for yet another flew to battle alongside them for the sake of our duchy.

            As many of you know, when our long war in the north ended I took in the daughter of the Silvermane as a ward of the duchy.  Young Jill has proven herself a steadfast ally for it was she who accompanied the others as the Dominant of Shiva and fought to keep the Iron Kingdom crusaders from setting foot inside Rosalith.  We have ever been a land of flame.  It is my earnest hope each of you will now open your minds to accepting her ice alongside those flames we hold dear.  My sons already consider her family as do I.

            Although much of the news I have been compelled to share is grave, I bid you not to fall to fear or despair.  Our duchy can and has survived a night of flame to be born anew.  I swear to you that I along with all those who walk this path with me shall remain ever more vigilant for threats against us.  Long ago our ancestors installed the Phoenix as Archduke so that he may be ever ready to pull us back from the brink.  Phoenix I may not be, but our Phoenix and now our Shiva hold that commitment with me.  Look to the future, my friends.  It is the only way the past remains in the past.

        “By the light,” Dion whispered, soft voice quivering in shock. 

        The page shook as his hand trembled.  Phoenix, Ifrit, Shiva.  The Rosarian archduke.  They lived and the duchy survived.  Dion knew the circumstances surrounding the Night of Flames.  There was no avoiding it just by luck.  Not unless they’d already known.  And though he knew little of Shiva’s story, not wishing to pry too far during his stay at their hideaway, he knew she was not known until later and in the Iron Kingdom at that.  In fact it had been years before he realized she was the ward of the duchy Phoenix had spoken frequently about.  There was only one explanation for this miracle he could imagine.  He was not the only one to return.  They had used their time to save their family and the duchy.  Their strength was astounding.  How did they continue to push forward despite everything?

        “Thought that would be of interest to you,” Terence quipped.

        “It is.  I am somewhat acquainted with the family.  It is a relief to hear they have survived this.”  Dion tried to still his trembling hand and racing thoughts.  He couldn’t explain to Terence why he reacted the way he did.  He’d never believe him and it was not his burden to bear on the strange chance that he did.

        “They sound like good people.”

        “Good, yes.  Tough and fierce, too.  I would not wish to be opposing them.”  Again, he thought ruefully.  They had, thank Greagor, defeated him once.  Never did he want to be in that position again.  He had to be better than that.  He couldn’t force them into that position once more.  They were actively changing everything with this one action.  Dion was no fool; he knew it was his father they were really speaking to.  It was all inuendo and carefully veiled threats aided by the common knowledge of the Archduke’s devotion to his people.  “I should very much like to meet with them again.”

        “Doing so now would be nigh impossible.  Not when they know it was Sanbreque who conspired with the duchess.”

        “I suppose you are correct.”  He had to do something, though.  They would prepare to face Ultima once more, of that he was certain.  And they would do it alone if they must.  This he could not allow.  He stood with them once and he planned to do so again.  Better this time, if he’d any say in the matter.  But to do that he must first take control of his circumstances.  There had to be something he could do.  If all else failed, well, after everything he had done, he would feel little guilt defecting to another nation to save his own.  The brothers would understand that.  And Dion knew that this time the battle to save Valisthea, to save them all, would be born in the heart of the Grand Duchy of Rosaria.

        So lost in his own inner turmoil at the news he never expected, Dion didn’t see Terence watching him closely the entire time, smiling just a little more with each passing moment.  Terence knew the moment he read that missive himself that it would change everything.  Ever since that bizarre night two weeks ago, Dion had only grown more despondent.  There was only so much Terence could do to help.  He came to visit every night and stayed as often as he could just to be there in case something else happened.  No one else knew what he did, after all.  But he couldn’t raise his friend’s spirits by much no matter what he tried.  After reading the announcement from Rosaria, however, night could not come fast enough.  This would do it.  He was certain of it.  Because there was something Dion didn’t seem to remember: he’d told Terence everything…

Two weeks prior

        “Dion?  Tell me everything.”  Dion’s eyes flickered from natural to blue to gold once again, but Terence didn’t know what it meant.

        “I never held anything from you.  So much I kept to myself for fear of others seeing my true thoughts yet I never withheld them from you.  You should know that.”

        “I do.  I’m just confused.  Please, explain what you believe yourself to have done.”  Was playing along the right idea?  Terence had no idea.  Perhaps it was instinct or perhaps it was stupidity that drove him forward but he needed to know.  His youngest sister had succumbed to fever and he knew that it could play tricks on the mind.  He knew that what Dion saw was a fiction.  Or he should have known.  If he was right, if his Eikon were involved, it could change anything.  At that moment, he did not care that he knew little of magic, Dominants, and Eikons.  All he knew was that it was hurting his friend, whatever it was, and no one else would pay enough attention to Dion rather than Bahamut.

        “Nothing was the same after Father married the traitoress, Annabella Rosfield.”  He’d said to tell him and tell him he did.  Dion spoke of the day Rosaria fell to Sanbreque and the woman who became empress.  He spoke of the empire expanding, battles over nothing, a half brother he never trusted.  “Annexing the Crystalline Dominion five years ago was truly our catalyst to the end.  Everything he did beget more and more violence and Bahamut was his most prized weapon.  I had no choice but to assist after Drake’s Head was destroyed.  The people needed me and Father would not listen to reason, too poisoned by the words of his wife.”  Terence’s heart raced at what he heard.  It was the most lucid Dion had sounded since he’d found him, yet what he said was more unbelievable.  As calmly as he could, he pulled the cloth off Dion’s forehead and went to soak it once more.

        “Keep going.”

        It only grew worse.  Twinside became the new capital, the emperor constantly on the hunt for new territory, the empress eagerly aiding him.  They would not be satisfied until the whole of the Twins flew the flag of Sanbreque.  Then in a single night it was all ground to dust by none other than their own prized Eikon.  Dion said he did not fully remember what happened.  He remembered killing his own father when he jumped in front of the lance Dion had meant to kill his brother with.  He remembered the aftermath of Twinside in ruins from Bahamut’s rampage.  So many people were killed by his own Eikon because he could not control it in his grief.  The guilt was palpable.  And Terence was riveted to the horrible story.  It was like something from a novel.  The feeling only grew when he spoke of a god who would destroy humanity for want of a vessel strong enough to wield large amounts of aether.  Then he spoke of brothers from Rosaria, the same who had stopped Bahamut, who stood against the god and wanted his help.  Readily he agreed, knowing the price.  It was the cost he willingly paid for the lives he took.

        “And me?” Terence asked softly, afraid to know the answer.  Dion was so calm speaking of world-ending events and his own death.  He never faltered.  But he’d cried when he saw Terence.  Now his eyes flickered harder toward that unnatural gold at the question, fear and sorrow and grief creasing his features ever more.  The longer the gold in his eyes took hold, the shallower and more ragged his breaths grew.  He reached a tentative, trembling hand to cover Terence’s own, taking it gently.  Then he gasped and a glow of blue-white light enveloped their clasped hands.

        A wave of images flooded Terence’s mind.  He saw himself smiling at Dion in a soft way he knew no one else would ever see.  An embrace behind the tightly closed flaps of a tent.  A buff above a battle which they both surveyed together.  Bandaging his arm when the curse took hold and scolding him for his use of the Eikon.  A cautious reunion and gathering their forces together as commander and his ever-present second.  And a request in Ran’dellah to seek out a girl he owed a debt.  The images carried feelings with them, overwhelming feelings of joy and sadness, hope and despair.  Love.  But it was the last he saw that drew a choked cry from his throat.  Staring up at some giant crystal in the sky, alone, knowing the last place he had sent Terence had been the very spot from which that crystal had appeared.  Knowing, beyond doubt, that the one person ever at his side was dead because he’d tried to protect him.  As the torrent of images passed, a quiet plea rang in his ears.

        Hold onto these until he is ready.

        When Terence opened his eyes, Dion was fast asleep.  He held a hand to his skin and found the fever had lessened.  Every thought in Terence’s head ground to a halt in the face of this entire encounter.  The questions he wanted to ask were so monumental he couldn’t form them.  He was scared.  Scared for himself, scared for his friend, scared for the world.  What Dion spoke of and what Terence had felt in whatever that had been was just so big.  He wasn’t ready for anything to be that big.  Sliding off the bed he backed toward the door.  He should leave.  He needed to go.  Something was wrong and he didn’t know enough about Eikons or aether to figure it out and he didn’t belong in the middle of it.  He darted the last few feet to the door, eager to return to a world he understood.

        As he raced down the corridors of the palace, the questions in his mind began to take shape.  What was actually wrong with Dion?  What had he seen?  Why had he seen it?  Why were they adults in everything he saw?  Hold onto what?  Ready for what?  He felt like the ocean itself was swallowing him whole, dragging him down into an abyss he could not climb free of and was ill-prepared to endure.  Nothing around him looked the same and he didn’t truly understand why.  He just wanted everything to go back to normal.  No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t convince himself it had all been the delirium of a fever.  It was too specific, too detailed, too insane, too logical.  Terence didn’t know what that meant either.  He just…felt alone.

        His footsteps slowed to a halt.  He couldn’t understand what he was feeling or what was happening.  He couldn’t even put it into words in his own mind.  So there was no way anyone else would understand either.  Except for Dion.  It would be so easy to forget this night ever happened.  Walk away and never think of it again.  Life would return to normal.  But would it for Dion as well?  Would he be able to pretend it never happened?  Or would he feel as alone as Terence now did?  He already knew the answer.  He’d felt that through the string of images.  Felt the bond of being the one person ever at Dion’s side.  Of all the people in the world, of all the people in the Empire who looked to Bahamut, it was Terence who looked beyond it.  It was he who saw Dion instead, who cared for his wounds and his curse when it began to grow.  Terence did not want to walk away from his best friend.  In a lot of ways, Dion was the only person who really saw him, too.  And if Terence felt that without the status of prince or Dominant, what would it do to someone who held both?  What would it do to him to lose that single constant?

        The decision was made before he realized he’d made it, steps carrying him back toward the prince’s door.  Dion pushed himself so hard to be the best.  To be the person, the prince, and the Dominant all needed him to be.  He stayed up late to study and rose early to train with dragoons.  Terence had already decided to follow him wherever he went.  They had talked about ways to do that, in fact.  Becoming a squire was the most promising play.  Was it so much further to help him bear his burdens as well?  He could help until Dion was ready.  Ready for whatever came his way.  Terence didn’t mind being in the background.  He was the third son of a minor house; there was little chance of him making a name there already.  So why not make his place the right hand of the prince?

        Terence pushed the door open once more and stepped inside.  Dion still slept.  Somehow he knew the choice he was making was a monumental one.  This time he didn’t let that frighten him away.  Instead he pushed onward back to the bed and hopped onto the empty side of it.  They’d fallen asleep reading dozens of times so he knew it would be alright if he spent the night.  He laid a hand on Dion’s head again to check his temperature.  It seemed to have broken already.  With little else he could do, he laid down on his side next to his friend and settled in to sleep, more comfortable with the knowledge that someone was there to help should he need it.

        The maids had long ago learned that the prince needed no one to wake him so they were undisturbed until Dion woke just after dawn.  It was immediately apparent that he did not remember what had happened in the midst of his fever the night before.  He was so confused by everything he saw, Terence included.  Probably no one else in the palace would have been able to tell how panicked he truly was.  Terence tried calming him, tried telling him they had already been through this, but his words did not reach his friend.  As the panic subsided, he made no attempts to explain or tell Terence anything he had the prior night, instead making excuses with half-truths and lies both.  And so, since Dion was not willing to explain, Terence had made a judgement call to say nothing more of it.  But he knew.  This was not quite his best friend any longer.  He walked differently, spoke differently, ignored training and books alike as if he’d little need of either.  He lost his way in the palace corridors and muttered something about Twinside.  He vaguely asked about the empress and Rosaria, failing to hide his complete shock when he received answers to both.  One day he could barely hold a lance, the next he could perfectly execute a Jump that put most dragoons to shame.  Terence was left with only one reasonable conclusion: everything Dion had said in the midst of that fevered delirium had been absolutely true.

        Few in the palace paid enough attention to Dion to notice the way he fumbled through everything those first few days.  Terence made sure he remained nearby just in case and therefore saw it all.  Dion was always so straight-laced and duty-bound.  Most of the time Terence admired it.  But as he watched his best friend struggle through something none realized existed without aid, as he watched him succumb to a despair none would understand, Terence knew he’d made the right decision.  His solitude ended now.  Terence would not allow him to face it alone even if Dion didn’t remember explaining.  Several times he thought of telling him, but he knew Dion too well.  He would simply push Terence away, claim it was all a dream, try to bear it alone for if Bahamut could not be strong enough, the Empire might well fall.  And so Terence chose to wait, merely dropping hints when he could.  A nigh sacred oath he chose for himself every day to be waiting next to the prince for the day he needed him.  For the day he finally let him in.

        Today was not the day Dion would let him in.  He hadn’t even noticed that the missive didn’t say it was Sanbreque’s machinations.  He was too stunned.  But that small insertion from Terence had made him feel like he could speak freely, a small change in demeanor Terrence was slowly attuning to.  That missive changed everything; he knew that from the moment he saw it.  It meant Dion was not the only one who knew of those other events.  He was certain of that.  Or at the very least, it meant that things could change.  And Dion needed that right now.  Little had been able to set his friend right after that night.  It was painful watching him fall further into a despair that Terence could only imagine stemmed from what he knew.  But now he was able to watch his expression carefully.  What began as hopeless despair turned to abject shock.  And that slowly hardened.  Steeled.  Determination Terence knew beyond doubt Dion possessed took over.  That was the look of someone who would not give in again.

        Today was not the day Dion would let him in.  There was no telling what he might do now that he’d gotten that spark lit within him.  What Terence did know was that he was going nowhere.  Dion needed him more than he knew.  It was true that he did not wish to leave his friend to face the coming struggles alone.  That was the choice he made for himself every day and he was still satisfied with that decision.  But it was not just that decision to help that would keep him there.  There was one thing that Dion blamed himself for more than anything else, one thing that when his memories of that other world returned he could not reconcile with.  He’d sent Terence to his death trying to protect him.

        While he couldn’t say with certainty exactly what had happened that night, Terence did know that through some strange Eikonic interference, he had been made warden of those memories that weighed so heavily upon his friend.  It eased his burden somewhat for the time being.  He was careful not to rifle through them.  They were private, even if they did involve him, and so he worked to push them to the very back of his mind.  He was merely a warden of them.  One day he would return them when Dion was prepared to accept their contents once again.  Perhaps on that day Terence would understand better what exactly he had inadvertently placed himself in the middle of.  But for now, he had a long way to go if he ever hoped to remain by the side of a man that stood up to a god.

Chapter Text

        “Wait for me, Cid!” Benedikta called in a rush to catch up with him.  “Are you trying to leave me behind?”  

        “Sorry, Benna.  Got lost in thought.”  A worried frown tugged at her lips and creased her eyes.

        “You’ve been doing that a lot.  Is everything alright?”

        “Just fine, my dear.”

        Cid mostly meant that.  Benedikta was right, though.  He couldn’t help getting caught up in little things.  Funny how interesting life became after you’d already died.  Couldn’t wait to find out how Clive had pulled that one off.  Cid knew beyond doubt there was no one else it could have been.  Lad really didn’t know when to quit, did he?  Well, there was that one time in the dungeon after Ifrit showed its fangs.  Can’t fault a man for finding the rock bottom of a deep well, though.  Hell of a day, that.

        The day he’d killed Benedikta.  Not that she’d given him any alternative.  Who knew it was even possible to lose control of an Eikon like that?  Cid certainly had never heard of it until he felt the aether spiraling out of control in the midst of that tornado.  He glanced over at the woman beside him.  To know her fate as well as his own was a unique kind of unsettling.  Sometimes it was hard to see how she became that person.  Other times she’d say just one off comment and it was easy to see it again.  Every time she got upset and called him Cidolfus, a shiver ran down his spine with the echo of her screams in the Caer Norvent chapel.  Still, it took him all of a day to get his bearings and to vow that would not happen again.  He would correct his greatest mistake.  Benedikta would not become another pawn for fate to trample on this time.  Not if he could help it.  That being that put him here wanted help, right?  Then how about two Dominants for the price of one.  Clive could wait that long.

        Sure, Cid had been stunned and confused for a while to wake up at all, let alone here with Benedikta of all people crying overtop of him.  But he’d always considered himself one to roll with the punches so he didn’t waste time on the details.  Honestly the most surprising thing about it all was that Benna didn’t know anything to come, nor did Barnabas.  Cid had never felt luckier in his life.  It gave him a chance to save her.  Not just her life, but her soul.  Once, he’d thought she needed stability and Stonhyrr gave her that.  Too late did he realize it also gave Barnabas the opportunity to poison her mind with his fanatical and completely mad ravings.  That would not happen this time.

        Which led them to this barely existent road in the middle of nowhere.  Step one of his plan: leave Benedikta alone with Barnabas as little as possible.  Step two: show her the value of life without magic outside the castle.  If he could counteract Barnabas’ fanatical ideals, there might be a chance for her.  She just needed to see that Dominants didn’t need to rule the world, that she could be appreciated as herself.  How he wanted to leave now before anyone could figure out that he knew more than he should.  Just pack them both into the first ship across the sea and make for Rosaria.  But he couldn’t leave without Mid.  She wasn’t even born yet.  Since he found her abandoned in a village near Stonhyrr, his only choice was to wait it out here in the hornet’s nest.  Only then would he, his daughter, and Benedikta leave.  This particular journey had nothing to do with that hornet’s nest, however.  Today was part of step two. 

        He and Benedikta were on their way to a festival in a remote village along the coast.  The people there were locked in a constant, fruitless struggle against the Blight as it creeped ever closer.  It was only a matter of time before they lost that struggle and they all knew it.  Yet when Cid had arrived on the shores of Ash, they took him in.  They’d shared all they had, which was incredibly little, with no expectation of reward.  When he finally had some gil to his name, he’d given them everything they were owed.  Even now he diverted shipments to them when he could.  Barnabas knew, Cid was well aware of that.  But he wasn’t so far gone to stop it yet.  Another few years was all Cid would get to continue before Barnabas finally snapped.  That was the beginning for Cid to start questioning his own loyalty the last time.  The people of Angeyja had a lasting impact on him, though.  It was they who inspired him to try living in the deadlands.  If they could pull through so close for so long, surely it could be done.  People lived free lives thanks to them. 

        Every year Cid took some time to visit.  The village fell to the Blight just before he left Waloed.  This would be the best festival yet as far as he was concerned for the simple fact that it had been so long.  He’d missed this.  Benedikta had never come with him.  Her studies were too important for him to ask, or so he’d thought at the time.  She excitedly agreed to come along, eager to see a place dear to him.  Cid never fully understood the festival’s purpose, but he did his best to explain it.  Something about the birth of a god or guardian or something.  At this point he was pretty sure the reason the festival began was less important than the excuse to feast, drink, and dance.  They had few enough reasons for that.

        “Are we nearly there?” 

        “Tired of walking already?  Only been a couple days.”  He smirked at her, expecting a snarky retort.  Instead she answered honestly.

        “A little.  It’s been some time since we traveled like this.  I’m more excited.  I’ve never been to a festival.”  That excitement was veiled behind a layer of sorrow.  From the gutter to narrowly avoiding a brand, she’d never had the luxury of celebrating much of anything.  Small wonder she came to hate the world.

        “We’ll be there tomorrow morning.  Festival starts at midday.  Might do to prepare yourself.  This party lasts three entire days non-stop.  Not for the faint of heart.”

        “Really?”

        “Sure does.  They party so hard its in shifts.  Multiple musicians to keep music going.  Ladies in the kitchen at all hours, changing out like the guard to keep food on the tables.  People drunk for days.  And a stranger never did enter Angeyja so don’t worry yourself when some old codger pulls you out for a dance.”  Benedikta giggled, that veil lifting from her eyes as she ran ahead a few steps.  Out of reach, he knew, for whatever comment she made against him.

        “Well I know one old codger who had better dance with me!”

        “Oi!  Watch that mouth of yours.  Wouldn’t do to get labeled a codger.”

        That night they camped within sight of Blighted lands.  They would have to pass through it to get to Angeyja and Benedikta had never been into the Blight, so they made an early camp to wait for morning.  Cid didn’t even notice the ominous view anymore.  Too many years living in the midst of it.  Benedikta, however, kept looking at it warily like it was a wounded animal that may pounce at any moment. 

        “Cid?  What is the Blight?”  The question caught him off guard.

        “Would have thought you’d learned that by now.”

        “I know what people say of it.  I want to know what you say it is.”  Not quite understanding what she was getting at, Cid opted for the most simplistic answer he could think of.

        “Well, it’s an absence of aether, in short.  Our world needs aether to live.  Without it, plants die, animals leave, and the Blight is what’s left.”

        “If it’s an absence of aether, does that mean it went somewhere?”  It was by the skin of his teeth he managed to cover that particular wince.  Couldn’t very well tell her exactly where it went and then return her to Stonhyrr, now could he?  It wasn’t that he thought Benedikta couldn’t keep a secret if she had to; Barnabas was just good at rooting them out if he suspected something.  Cid couldn’t risk that yet.

        “No one knows,” he lied.  “Every crackpot and scholar has an idea, of course.  Not many are good ones.”  She fell silent, thinking over what he said, while Cid stoked their small fire.  “Want to tell me what this is getting at?” he pressed.  Benna chewed on her lip. 

        “I overheard the king talking several days ago.  He said the Blight is a blessing.”

        “Did he now?”  More rantings of the mad king.  If only he’d realized it earlier the last time.  Looking back on it now, he felt all the more a fool for not.  It seemed so obvious in hindsight.

        “Do you think it’s a blessing?”  Cid eyed her carefully trying to gauge the kind of answer he should give.  Her focus was now on that line just beyond their firelight, frown on her face.

        “Do you?”  She didn’t answer for a long while.  He wasn’t sure what she might say when she did.  Finally she drew her knees up to her chest and leaned her chin on them.

        “I thought he meant it could be a blessing in disguise.  Something to unite people under the Dominants or that maybe we could do something about it.  But how can anyone look at that and think it a blessing of any kind?  It’s just…death.  I don’t think I want to go through it tomorrow.”

        “It’s nothing to be scared of.”

        “You agree with the king, then?”  Cid barked a laugh.

        “Bloody hell, no.  That there is death incarnate, make no mistake.  It may well swallow us all one of these days.  But not today nor tomorrow.  A stroll isn’t going to kill anyone, you least of all.  It won’t be comfortable, mind.  No aether means no magic.  You’ll feel Garuda just out of reach.  A book on a shelf you can’t quite get to.”  It would only grow ever more quickly in the coming years.  That blasted god of Barnabas’ was getting ready for something.  With any luck Clive would already know what that was.  Cid never could quite grasp the why of it, only the how.  Depended on what happened after he died, he guessed.  No way anyone pulled anyone through time at that exact moment.  Made sense to him that more followed.  If more followed, just maybe Clive and Jill had answers.  “Funny thing, death,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Benedikta.  “It’s an absolute.  The one thing every living soul has in common.  But sometimes it isn’t the behemoth in the night.  Sometimes death has a way of sparking life.  Living within death incarnate can be done.  The ultimate insult to whatever twisted force created it to begin with.”

        “You mean someone can live in…that?” 

        “Never underestimate human resilience.”

        “I don’t think I have that kind of resilience.”

        “Bah, course you do.  Everyone does.  They just don’t know it yet.  Maybe it isn’t living in the Blight.  Maybe it’s something else.  Everyone has a line they don’t know they can cross until they do it.”

        “What about you?  Have you had to cross that line?”

        More than I could possibly tell you now, he thought to himself.  One day he planned to tell Benna everything.  No secrets, nothing held back.  But he had to make sure he had saved her before he did. 

        “Hm.  Did I ever tell you how I got to Ash from the southern isles?”  Benna shook her head.  Cid lit a cigar, thinking back on both the best and most idiotic decision he ever made.  “I was young and foolish.  Wanted to see the rest of the world when the isles got too boring.  One day on impulse I stowed away on a ship bound for who knew where.  Ship got caught in a storm and went down.  Somehow I managed to cling to a barrel and not drown.  Washed up on the shores of Ash in the village we are bound for.  More than once I was tempted to just let go of that blasted barrel and get it over with.  Never could quite make it.  Can’t say I ever thought about how long I could hang onto a barrel in the ocean before then, but self-preservation instincts are harder to break than you think.”

        “Why not prime?  Ramuh can fly, can he not?”

        “He can.  But I didn’t know he’d saw fit to haunt me yet.”  Benna laughed.

        “Haunt you?  He is an Eikon, not a ghost.”  The laughter faded as she cocked her head curiously.  “Do you not take pride in being a Dominant?”  And that’s where this conversation needed to stop.

        “That is a tricky question, my dear.  One best saved for another time.  You should get some sleep.  A three day party awaits, remember?”

        Benedikta grumbled a little more, but did finally agree to turn in for the night.  Just one more thing he’d explain to her one day.  Bloody hell, he hated living like this, making decisions based on what he was afraid for Barnabas to find out.  He reminded himself that this was still the hornet’s nest.  He remembered well the day he’d found out about the king’s soon-to-be insanity.  Cid had thought it a crazy obsession with a myth at first.  Hell, he’d still thought it was myth up until he saw the bastard standing in front of Clive.  Cid had never been one for religion of any kind so any time Barnabas brought up “his lord,” Cid just tuned him out.  He had better things to do.  He remembered one day, though.  Barnabas was blind drunk, ranting about his god and the things he would bring to this world.  One thing stuck with Cid that night which came back to him when he met Clive.

        “Cidolfus, my friend.  It is only a matter of time before the Almighty claims that which is rightfully his.  The day is coming.  I am certain of it.  All he wants of this world is a man strong enough to make us all obsolete.  A single man that can take the place of every Dominant in Valisthea.”

        Naturally Cid had thought him drunk and creating fantasies at the time.  Who wouldn’t?  They’d had their drinks, gone to bed, and he never thought of it again.  It hadn’t occurred to him until late in the night after dragging Clive back to the hideaway and chaining him up just in case.  Everything was quiet as he sat there sipping his wine when that old conversation crept up on him.  Once again he’d thought it mad.  Except this time it wasn’t so easy to dismiss and throw it away.  A man with an Eikon that shouldn’t exist had taken the power of a Dominant.  He couldn’t help watching Clive’s every step after that, staring at his turned back trying to think of any possible explanation.  Wondering just who this lost son of Rosaria really was.  He finally got his answer in Drake’s Head.  Or, it confirmed what he’d already suspected.  Enough of Barnabas’ ramblings had stuck with him over the years to recognize the disgusting creature for the mad king’s god.  And there was only one thing the mad king’s god wanted in the whole of the world.  Even if he hadn’t taken a liking to Clive he would have stopped what he knew was about to happen.  That thing could not be allowed to have his vessel, no matter the purpose.  Nothing good would come of it.  Barnabas was evidence enough of that.

        He didn’t get to tell Clive any of his suspicions.  Maybe he wouldn’t have anyway.  Touchy subject and all.  But there was something about the lad Cid couldn’t put his finger on.  While the thought of simply taking Ramuh with him to his grave to fight against that god did cross his mind, he still didn’t hesitate to give his Eikon to Clive instead.  Cid just knew.  Clive would be the best of humanity.  The man that could fight a god.  He chose a leap of faith in someone he hardly knew.  Had it paid off in the end?  He couldn’t wait for the day he could ask.

        The trip trough the Blight proved as uneventful as Cid had anticipated.  One good thing about the complete absence of life: no animals or anything else that might think them a tasty snack.  For all the problems the Blight created, it was surprisingly safe in a manner of speaking.  Benedikta was uncomfortable for the first hour, but slowly grew more comfortable with the lack of aether.  By the time they crossed to the other side, she was all smiles and excitement for the festival. 

        They could smell the food before they could see the village.  It was enough to set Cid’s stomach grumbling.  The women here were some of the best cooks he’d met in Ash.  Almost as good as those he left behind in the southern isles.  Music was the next thing to greet them, musicians already warming up for the first round.  People would be filtering in and out all day as they finished their work or necessary preparations for a three-day festival.  Tonight would be, without doubt, the most raucous, loud, and exciting night of the affair.  It usually was.  Cid had, on a few occasions, provided the equivalent of fireworks with Ramuh to the absolute delight of the entire village.  That may be something he did again this year if given the chance.  It had been far too long since he’d enjoyed this.  And, bonus to being younger, the curse hadn’t quite hit yet.  Odd, since he had thought it was just starting about the time he met Benedikta, but he was certainly not complaining that his memory had it wrong.

        “Cid!  Cid’s here!”  A few of the children saw their approach and went running to announce their arrival.

        “You’ve a following,” Benna teased.

        “Just been here a few times.  The kid’s like hearing stories from outside the village.  Normally I’d say they remind me too much of me at that age, but…”

        “They won’t be able to stay much longer, will they?” 

        “No.  These kids will have to find their way in the wider world.  The Blight’ll make sure of that.”  Benedikta hummed but said nothing.  She looked around with sharp eyes, memorizing her surroundings.  Maybe for the day they would be unable to return. 

        Angeyja was nothing special as far as Ash villages went.  In fact it barely stood up to most of the others.  The wooden slats of the buildings were beaten and battered from the ocean salt spray.  Many  of the homes were abandoned after people chose to leave of their own accord before they were forcibly driven out.  Those that remained were some of the heartiest people Cid ever knew, excepting perhaps the nutters that followed him into the deadlands.  He’d been told that this tradition dated back long enough ago that villagers from up and down the coast used to come here just for the festival, but Angeyja was the only one remaining.  The others had long been lost. 

        The central square had been completely cleared out to make way for long tables.  Wooden pallets formed a raised ring meant for dancing and a second group of them had been laid out for the musicians.  Streamers hung from cords between windows, a little faded now from the number of years they’d been used.  It was all exactly like Cid remembered it.  Of course it was; it was his memory.  That bit of nostalgia still made his throat tighten for a moment, though.  This was without question the best part of this “relieve your own past” nonsense. 

        “Cidolfus Telamon,” came the husky voice of a middle-aged woman.  He knew that voice well.

        “Ulfrina,” Cid smiled, immediately pulling her into a hug.  Short and plump, she had her pale blonde hair pulled into a woven braid that looped around itself.  If Angeyja had a leader, mayor, or village elder, Ulfrina was as close as they came.  Kind as could be, stern when she had to be, she looked after them all as much as she could.  It had been she who was the first to announce that they would look after Cid when he’d washed up there.  No one argued with her.

        “You’re late, you know.”  Although she narrowed her eyes at him chidingly, they both knew she meant little by it.  She was just glad to see him.

        “I know.  Had a little extra baggage this time.”  Extending an arm behind him, he pulled Benedikta forward.  She hesitated a moment, but followed his lead.  “This here is Benedikta Harman, a dear friend of mine.”  As expected, Ulfrina reached out to hug her.  To Benna’s credit, she didn’t resist.  A great stride since the time he’d found her.

        “Benedikta. So glad to meet you.  I’m Ulfrina Cloggsdottir.  Any friend of Cidolfus is a welcome friend of ours.”

        “Thank you, Mistress Cloggsdottir.”  Ulfrina chuckled warmly.

        “We’ll have none of that, now.  It’s just Ulfrina, child.”

        “Oh.  Um, thank you.  Ulfrina.  Y-you can call me Benna.  If you’d like.”  That one took Cid by surprise.  She didn’t like anyone calling her Benna.  Even Cid only got away with it because he simply wouldn’t stop and she grew tired of complaining about it.

        “What a sweet thing you are, Benna.  You must be excited for the Emergence Festival to have walked all the way here.”

        “Yes. I am.”  Still so shy around new people.  Cid would just have to take pity on her.

        “See, Benna here’s never been to a real festival before.  Figured you good people could make her first a thing to remember.”  Ulfrina gasped.  One hand flew to her heart in shock while the other immediately sought out Benedikta’s hand.

        “Truly, child?”  Benedikta shook her head.  “Well, we’ll just fix you right up.  Come.  Are you hungry?  Let’s snatch you a bite from the kitchen.  Cidolfus, you just leave Benna with us.  We’ll take good care of her.” 

        “Um, Cid?” Benna called out warily as Ulfrina gently tugged on her hand.

        “Go on, Benna.  Have some fun.  Ulfrina fished me out of the sea herself and set me square.  You’ll be right as rain in no time.”

        “You say that as if something is wrong with me!”

        “Don’t you listen to him,” Ulfrina soothed her.  “Pretty young lass like you, I bet you’re already right as rain.”

        With one last glance back at Cid, Benedikta disappeared into a longhouse he knew was usually repurposed to function as a single kitchen for the festival.  What was he going to do with her?  Such a firecracker with him yet so shy with most other people.  If only others could see what he did.  If only she could see what others did.  If he could temper her anger toward the world with good memories, she would go far.  Cid was nothing if not a dreamer.  Always wanting to see the best in people, always wanting to see the possibilities.  This being his favorite few days of the year, he let himself imagine it.  Just for a moment, he let himself conjure an image of taking her all the way to Rosaria with him.  Saving the world alongside her.  She had the constitution for it.  It was a shame that drive had been cut so short by Barnabas the last time. 

        He allowed himself a small smile at his own imagination before turning to greet others from the village.  Everyone knew him here.  It seemed the festival could hardly begin if he hadn’t spoken to each and every one of them.  The children begged him for Ramuh’s bag of tricks.  The older men wanted news from the capitol and wider world.  The older women wanted to know how far the Blight had spread.  A few of the younger women were already flirting.  Couple of the young men too.  A couple of hours this went on until just before midday when Ulfrina sat beside him on a makeshift bench.

        “Cidolfus.  I’d like to talk about this girl you’ve brought home.”

        “Brought home?” Cid huffed.  “Little old to be bringing home girls for the family to meet, aren’t I?  How long do you plan on treating my visits like a homecoming, anyway?  I hail from a land I’ll never again see.”  Washing up on shore didn’t, in his mind, make anywhere a home.  Everyone here thought of it as such, though.  They couldn’t wait for his next visit, like the long-lost son that only rarely returned.  Maybe somewhere down the line he’d started thinking it too, though he wouldn’t admit it now.

        “Only as long as you continue to deflect subjects with such humor.”  She flashed him a knowing smirk.  This was one of few people he couldn’t quite pull that trick with.

        “What about her, then?”

        “There is something more to her, isn’t there?”

        “Benna’s a Dominant.  Garuda.”

        “Tsk.  You know we care naught for Dominants here, Cid.”  It was true.  This far away from everything, they never had abided by the common concepts of society.  Bearers were free, Dominants were people.  It had be that way for them all to survive.  Looking back on it, maybe this was where his ideas really started taking root.  “No, I mean beyond that.”

        “Afraid you’ll have to speak plainly.  I don’t follow.”

        “Alma said she was conflicted.  As if there could be more than meets the eye.  She threw the bones for her.”

        “Ulfrina,” he groaned.  “You know I don’t believe in that mystic nonsense.  Tossing around bones cleaned from a table doesn’t tell you the future.  Nothing can do that.”  He deliberately chose to ignore that his current circumstances should also fall into that category despite the reality that he was, in fact, living it.  He’d sooner believe in time travel than predicting the future.

        “That is precisely why I speak of this to you rather than to Benna herself.  Alma has never had such a clear reading.  She spoke it as fact, as something which had already happened and may well happen again.  That girl is headed for a crossroads, Cidolfus.  It will not come soon, but the roads for each path at that intersection are already being laid.  Which she will choose is impossible to say.  Knowing you would not listen, Alma gave me a warning to pass along to you.”

        “You think the messenger is going to change my mind on warnings from table scraps?”  Cid complained, of course he did.  But even as he did so he knew he was not stupid enough not to at least hear out warnings from people he respected.  Not when Ulfrina knew his feelings on the practice.  Something had her shaken enough to demand he listen anyway.  “What is it?” he sighed.

        “Beware the blood moon.  That is the night which will determine Benna’s fate.  The crossroads will demand her choice.  One path leads to death in search of something she will never find.  The other leads to freedom.  Stay with her, Cidolfus.  She will need you.  The two of you are bound together by something not even Alma could see.  A tether between two hosts sending ripples along the thread by each action taken.  No matter her choice, that tether will remain.  Should she choose the darker path, that tether will only create pain for you both.”

        Cid had never put much stock in the foretelling of the resident shaman.  One of the few things about Angeyja he truly disliked.  He was a man of science, always looking for rational explanations for everything.  It was easy for him.  There hadn’t been a time he could remember that the natural explanation didn’t work out for the best.  But if that warning wasn’t the truth he didn’t know what was.  He already knew where that path of death lead.  Benedikta would stay here, be further swayed by Barnabas and grow to despise Cid only to confront Clive and lose.  Sure, it may play out a little differently this time, but he didn’t expect it would end any other way.  A day had never passed that he didn’t spare her a thought.  Each time she screamed at him that night in the church he felt it in his gut.  Even if he did have good reasons she never wanted to hear, she was still right.  He’d abandoned her after everything.  He’d only shown her that she’d been right all along.  People would always leave her.

        The door across the square opened and out poured a stream of the younger women, Benedikta in the midst of them.  They were all smiles, laughing and joking about something Cid couldn’t hear.  Benna was actually smiling.  When her eyes found his, the smile widened and she ran over quickly.

        “Cid!  They decided I need to dress the part since this is my first time.  What do you think?”  Benna spun around to show off her new dress.  The fashion of such a backwater village was simple, but they’d spent years on the fashion for this one particular festival.  Every year they spent their winter months embroidering new memories into their cloth or passing down their festival clothes to others.  Someone had offered Benedikta an absolute tapestry of a dress.  The hunter green fabric accentuated every shifting color in her hazel eyes and made her blonde hair positively shine.  The dress showed off her flattering curves with a fitted bodice and sleeves, the skirt flaring and hanging to her knees where her own black boots completed a striking silhouette.  Red and blue embroidery of trees and waves flowed up and down her arms and through the pleats in her skirts.  Someone had spent more than one winter on this particular dress.  It was absolutely stunning on her.  Beyond stunning, really.

        “That was very kind of them,” he muttered distractedly, eyes still roaming up and down her figure.  All those years spent apart had let him convince himself he didn’t still care about her.  They’d grown too far apart for him to ever see her in that light again.  Even now he convinced himself those old feelings were long dead.  It was all a lie he never saw through until that moment. 

        No matter the choice, the tether will remain.  It had.  Bloody hell, it really had.  It always would, wouldn’t it? 

        Benna laughed, eyes shining at just how stumped she’d left him.  One of the other young women pulled her away to begin teaching her the steps for a dance popular here.  From nervous little thing to free and carefree in the span of but a couple hours.  He wanted to always see that smile, always hear that laugh.  Benedikta deserved to enjoy the best of life like everyone else.  Maybe she couldn’t always; she was a Dominant after all.  That alone hindered many things.  But damned if he didn’t want to give her everything he could.

        “Ulfrina,” he murmured, still watching Benedikta stumble through steps.  “Do you believe fate can be changed?”  The woman stood, also watching the scene play out.

        “Sometimes.  There are some fates which we must always face with our heads held high.  Some I choose to believe are life’s way of testing our mettle.  The choice to give in or to fight is never a thing to be answered until one stands on the precipice of that fate.”  A few of the musicians began playing just for Benedikta and the others to enjoy, a lively song that was easy to keep pace with.  “I will not pretend to understand what is going through your mind, Cidolfus.  I can see there is something you cannot say and I will not force you to.  In light of that, the better question is do you ask for yourself or for her?”

        Cid didn’t answer.  When he looked at Benedikta in just the right light he could still see that angry woman in the church bent on murder.  Other times he could see a woman safely sleeping in his own embrace.  Neither were true at the moment.  This was something new taking root.  She smiled and laughed and danced until she was breathless.  Quick to catch onto the dance, she spun around the floor as gracefully as she danced through the skies.  That floor would only rarely be without her during their time here, he knew.  Cid didn’t answer Ulfrina’s question.  Not out loud.  But he knew. 

        If he were very, very lucky, and if he had some help along the way, both their fates would change this time around.

Chapter Text

        Nearly two months had passed since the night Rosaria unknowingly took its first tentative steps into the uncertain future.  The announcement of recent events and of Shiva went as planned.  From what Joshua could tell, the people of Rosalith were eager to accept their new Dominant.  His father was right on that count if nothing else.  Announcing her as a savior took the expected fear out of everyone.  It was a little uncomfortable for Jill at first, but things calmed down eventually.  Now people generally regarded her as they did Joshua.  Once or twice he heard speculation of marriage between the two of them simply for their Eikons.  He laughed when he heard it.  There would be an engagement one day, of that he was certain, but it would not be with him.  Never with him. 

        They had also made the choice to convene a few trustworthy individuals to divulge their secrets to.  Uncle Byron had been chief among those included and definitely the easiest to agree upon.  The next easiest was Lochlan simply for the practicality of it.  After talking it over, they agreed that there was no way of knowing what kind of physical effects could potentially be lurking after everything they’d been through and it was probably best that a physicker be aware.  The master of the Undying proved to be a sticking point.  Elwin wanted to include him for the rest of the order, fearing he might work against them if he did not understand the context.  Joshua in particular was still reticent knowing how they recorded everything.  If there was one thing he learned in his search for Ultima, it was to ensure a secret stayed buried, never write it down.  In the end they compromised.  The master would be included after being sworn to secrecy by the Phoenix himself.

        Uncle Byron had laughed at the tale, readily believing every word just as Jill had predicted.  It hadn’t even needed to be Clive specifically that spoke.  By the time it was all over, he already had several plans in the works for ways to spread their non-magical technologies and practices once they were ready as well as gathering some extra funding for the new university.  He also made sure to apologize for some kind of lecture he’d given Clive in the infirmary.  The master of the Undying, a surly man named Sebastian, said little throughout the meeting.  This was no surprise to Joshua and likely his father as well, though he did wonder if some of that silence came from the demand this be neither spoken nor written without express permission.  Lochlan, on the other hand, asked so many questions it made Joshua’s head spin.  Most were directed to him and pertained to both his health and his Eikon.  Joshua told him nearly everything.  The only thing he omitted was where Ultima’s prison had shown on his body.  He didn’t want attention to fall back on Jote. 

        Lately Joshua’s days had been taken up by attempts to replicate what he could remember of the hideaway’s functions.  Some processes were easier to remember than others.  Knowing the threat that awaited, Elwin had already made inquiries about implementing non-magical technologies in the castle and was writing drafts of plans to begin the university he’d wanted to build.  What Joshua could give them to start that process would be invaluable.  If only he could remember as much as he wanted.  He had learned much out of curiosity.  Never had he thought he himself would need to reproduce any of what he learned.  So far he had managed to remember most of their food preservation, a little of their gardening, and enough of the bellows to know he was missing something.  At the moment he was desperately trying to remember anything he could about water purification.  It was not going well.  Already a small pile of discarded paper had accumulated behind his chair and it wasn’t even midday.  At this rate the area surrounding his desk would look like Mid’s workshop on a bad day by lunchtime.

        “Your highness?”  The soft voice accompanied by an equally soft knock was a frankly welcome distraction.  If he could just remember where those blasted filters went this would all be going much more smoothly!

        “Come in,” he bit out harshly through his frustration.  Immediately he grimaced at the tone and turned to see who was calling him.  “I apologize.  You bear no fault for my own frustrations.”  It was a good thing he got that out before the door fully opened.  Had he seen Jote standing there in the midst of it, he most certainly would have tripped over his words in surprise.

        “Forgive me, your highness, for interrupting and perhaps for my presumptuous behavior.  The rumor around the castle is that you have rarely been seen out of your room in the last few days.  I thought perhaps that might warrant a different kind of remedy.”  In her hands was a tray laden with a tea pot, cup, and snacks.  He knew he should send her away if he was ever to keep her from his shadow, but he couldn’t force the words from his lips.  She was so uncertain of her own actions yet cared enough to overstep the normal bounds.  No one else had thought to check up on him save those who knew what he was doing.  Not that he was complaining about a lack of interruptions at the time.

        “The interruption is welcome, Jote.  Thank you.”  With a small smile she set the tray down on the table.

        “I do not know what has you so occupied and would not presume to ask.  Yet I know that studies oft need something more pleasant to keep the mind sharp.”  Joshua smiled in spite of himself.  This was far from the first time she had brought him snacks when he became too absorbed in the archive’s manuscripts to think of eating.

        “Now that I think on it, I did skip breakfast.”  The tray contained a couple of pastries and a bag of candied nuts along with the tea pot.  The pastries were almond, which he was strangely glad to see.  Almond was Jote’s favorite.  Which meant she hadn’t inadvertently done something with his tastes or needs in mind again.  Well, ignoring the fact that she was here at all.  That part was still unusual.  “Might I ask the reason for your visit?” he probed gently.  Jote paused only briefly in filling a cup.

        “Was this too presumptuous, your highness?  I apologize.  I only wished to do something to help in whatever task had spirited you away.”

        “While I thank you for the thought, I do not believe I’ve done aught to warrant a physicker’s attention.  Merely a few late nights.”

        “You need your rest,” she chided him in all too familiar a tone.  She quickly shook her head after saying it.  “Forgive me.  I suppose that was uncalled for since your recovery.  A habit of a physicker, I suppose.”  If he looked closely, he could just see the faintest quiver in her hand as she set things up on the table for him, a task she hadn’t needed to do to begin with.  She avoided looking his direction.  Between those two facts, he could only assume she was buying time.  To do what, Joshua had no idea.  If he didn’t know better, though, he would think her nervous.  “There.  I encourage a break from whatever is causing you such frustration.  I’ll take my leave now.”

        “Jote,” he called.  Whatever she was trying to buy time for clearly wasn’t working.  Her steps jerked to a halt halfway across the room with such rigidity that he thought she might snap in half if she blinked.  “Why do I get the impression there is something you wished to ask me?”  It should have been impossible for her to stiffen further, but she managed it.  Clearly he’d guessed absolutely correctly.  “The tea is an appreciated thought and I am grateful for it.  However it is hardly your responsibility.  I cannot imagine it would be the only thing to bring you here from the infirmary.”

        Joshua had a very strong suspicion what this was about.  He’d known it was coming eventually.  Though it pained him, the easiest way to end it would be to address her questions with firm, reasonable refusal.  She would forget about all this strangeness eventually.  Once she did, then he could try to help her find her own path.  A moment passed.  Then two.  Was she actually breathing?  Jote remained still as a statue and Joshua was unsure what she would ultimately decide to do.  As little as he wanted to answer these questions, he wanted her to be brave and to face whatever came.  That was who she was to him.  Someone who never backed down.  Finally she tilted her head almost imperceptibly toward him.

        “How…”  Her voice cracked nervously so badly she had to stop and start again.  “How did you know my name?  In the infirmary, we’d never met.  How did you know my name?”  That was what she wanted to know?  Wait, did she not say her name first?  He couldn’t remember.  But if she was asking, he had to assume he had slipped.  Well, at least there was a ready cover available to him.

        “The physicker was speaking of you when last I was there.  I had assumed you were, in fact, the apprentice he spoke of.”

        “I see,” she said quietly.  “Forgive me, your highness.  I have not been myself of late.”  Without further comment, she left.  This time Joshua didn’t stop her.  Hopefully that would be the end of it.  He could only pray it would be that easy.

        Mind far away from water purification systems, he sank heavily into a seat, staring at the gift she’d brought but seeing something very different.  Jote had been his closest friend and companion for so many years.  How he yearned to have that back.  Sometimes she was wiser than he, always quick to admonish him when she sensed he was about to do something foolish.  The other Undying would have most like let him burn the world if that is what the Phoenix demanded.  They would push against it all for the sake of the Phoenix and what it might do to his health, but in the end with a firm enough word from him, they would have stepped aside.  Jote would have stood in his path the entire way, never allowing it to save both health and humanity.  She had saved his humanity in a way.

        After he was told of events at Phoenix Gate, after the blinding sorrow and grief, his hatred turned towards himself for a time.  He hated the Phoenix, hated himself for bearing it and being unable to control it.  What kind of monster kills those closest to him?  Jote wouldn’t let him think like that.  Every time his thoughts turned toward that darkness, she insisted it wasn’t his fault, that trauma does things to the mind no one expects until it happens.  Having nigh limitless power contained within a child would only compound that.  Seeing what he did, it was natural to think the Phoenix would burst free.  Her calm soothing worked sometimes.  Some days were better than others.  In the midst of one particularly bad day following a night of screams and nightmares, they were sparring and he got frustrated at his lack of ability.  He’d burned her without meaning to call on the Phoenix.  Realizing what he’d done he immediately healed the wound and more besides, but he’d avoided her the full rest of the day out of shame.  Once again he hadn’t controlled that cursed power he carried and he’d hurt someone he cared about.  That night she’d come to his room demanding he speak with her.  He ranted and raved and called himself names until he was hoarse and unnoticed tears dampened his cheeks.  She’d listened calmly the entire time, letting him vent every frustration he hadn’t yet seen.  When he was finally finished, panting on the other side of the room with a singed path worn into a rug beneath him, she said the single most comforting thing he had heard since he lost his family.

        “Does a monster grieve?  Does a monster hang his head in shame to heal a wound it caused?”  He stared at her, grappling with her words.  He wanted to heed them, but…

        “If I cannot control what resides within, I am no better than one.  No matter what I may think of my actions afterward.”  All he could see in her eyes was understanding.  It was irritating.  She couldn’t understand.  No one could.  But she didn’t back down as so many others had in the face of his irritation.  Instead she stood and tossed his sword to him.  Reflexively his fingers tightened around the grip exactly where they needed to be.

        “You did not always know how to hold that sword either, Your Grace.”  Looking down at the hilt in his hand he realized what exactly it was she was trying to tell him.  “You unfairly lost years of your life.  No one could rightfully expect you to be at the level you aspire to be after such an ordeal.  It has not been so long since you rejoined the land of the living and already you have exceeded the Undying acolytes in swordplay when you never trained with a sword before.  Whether you know it or not, you have been an inspiration to those around you for such dedication.  You are no monster, Your Grace.  You merely expect the impossible of yourself.”

        How badly things could have gone had Jote not been there when he needed her.  It was the first time anyone had managed to get through to him.  Until that moment it had all been half-uttered platitudes falling on deaf ears.  Their bond was cemented that night.  He hated himself for pushing her away now.  If it were only moments of encouragement like that he wouldn’t think twice about befriending her once again.  She followed him into every situation imaginable with nary a complaint, though.  Every ruin he explored, every step he took across Storm, she was always right there.  Her entire life after that was wholly dedicated to his care and protection just because he was the Phoenix.  The wounds she had suffered were always his fault, no matter what she said.  Every time he saw her bleeding he blamed himself for not being fast enough or good enough.  He didn’t want her to suffer those wounds again.  Perhaps he could have come to accept it had it not gotten worse after imprisoning Ultima.  The sleepless nights, the worry, the constant need to watch his every movement and breath, the rare moment she herself fell ill after pushing herself too hard in his care.  The guilt he’d felt for years only grew exponentially in the face of it, especially knowing he needed her aid.

        That night in Twinside was the worst of it.  When he primed to fight Bahamut, he never imagined what it would lead to.  He did not worry for Jote’s safety.  He knew well that she would have made it out.  She would meet him in Tabor.  He was certain of it.  No, her making her way through the destruction of the city was not what pressed him to keep her safely at the hideaway.  It was Bahamut.  He was so incredibly powerful.  Joshua would have been hard pressed to subdue him on his own even if he did have more experience with priming beyond the single time he’d done it accidentally.  And that was before Bahamut absorbed the heart of the Mothercrystal.  In the aftermath of such a battle, of needing to combine with the Eikon of his brother to fight, he knew.  Jote would only be killed in the battles to come.  He couldn’t bear it.  Their struggle was only bound to get more difficult.  She could not face them nor could Joshua face the consequences of her duty.  She should not have to go so far.  Perhaps he should have left her in Tabor, but it was a selfish wish for her to still be nearby.  His only friend, or so it had felt at the time. 

        This was much the same.  There was no way of knowing where this might lead them.  Though they now knew their foe and his plans, it made it no less dangerous and he was certain she would try to follow him again.  He had been too torn up after Phoenix Gate to push her away, not that he’d known the dangers it would lead her to at the time.  He had simply been desperate for someone, anyone, to call a friend.  This time he could withstand it alone.  This time he could save her from all that pain.  Clive and Jill were inextricably involved already; they were support enough for him.  It wasn’t as if he would never see Jote.  She would be around.  And once those oddities in knowledge faded, they could be friends once again.

        As always, reality would prove far from such simple ideas.

        The first time Joshua had caught Jote nearby, he’d called it a coincidence and moved on.  The second time, while waiting for Jill that night, he began to have his suspicions.  The pattern continued until she brought him tea and advised he take a break.  He had thought that would be the end of it.  Such a simple question surely could not lead to even more curiosity.  He should have known better of his own Attendant. 

        Whatever she had been after with that innocent question she seemed to have gotten despite Joshua’s intentions to the contrary.  It became almost a common occurrence to see her ducking behind corners or walking nearby, only pretending to be involved in other things.  Once or twice maids he’d befriended told him the physicker’s apprentice had been asking questions.  Mundane questions such as likes or dislikes, but Joshua knew better.  This was truly reconnaissance and information gathering.  If he called her out on it, though, it would only affirm whatever ideas she may have come up with and so he said nothing, still trying to convince himself this would go away eventually.  More than once he thought back to Clive’s advice, that he could not let her constantly roam in search of something he could easily just explain.  Every time he had the same thought.

        What am I supposed to tell her?

        It was such a headache that he found himself wandering the halls of the castle one morning just before dawn.  Some dream he couldn’t completely remember woke him.  It had something to do with Jote, he knew, and so now she was once again in his thoughts.  Not that she usually left for long, loathe though he was to admit that.  He kept telling himself to be patient until he saw the way forward and that these barely pre-dawn hours were not the best time for major decisions.  No one in the main castle was awake yet, leaving the halls blessedly silent save for his footsteps and their echo.  An echo which, it would seem, was slightly more than just the reverberating of his own steps off the stone walls.  As he approached the door to the courtyard he saw Clive sneaking out with his cloak thrown over one shoulder around his sword.  Naturally Joshua followed.

        “Where are you going so early?” he asked quietly once out the door.  Clive actually jumped, hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. 

        “Joshua…” he said slowly, likely calming himself.  “What are you doing up at this hour?”

        “I could not sleep but I would rather know the same of you as your efforts seem far more interesting.” Realizing he was caught red-handed, his brother sighed,  He might also have rolled his eyes with a tinge of frustration.

        “There were some reports from Shields of places to avoid due to wildlife causing problems.  I thought I might remedy those problems.”

        “Even without a hunt board you are looking for targets, aren’t you?  Nektar would be pleased.”

        “I do not do this for sport, you know.  I cannot train the way I need to in the bailey and I am most certainly not prepared for what is to come.  If hunting down some wolves and stranglethorns allows me that, I will take what I can.”

        “A respectable idea.  I will accompany you.  Let me get my cloak.”

        “Joshua, you need not face the damp cold of the morning too.  Go back to bed.”

        “Do not move.  I will merely hunt you down if you do.” 

        The longer they stood arguing the more time they would waste for what they both knew would be the same inevitable result: Joshua coming along.  Quietly as he could he ran back to his room and threw his cloak around his shoulders.  His sword he already had in hand.  He’d grown too accustomed to it being within reach to leave it behind even here.  Perhaps one day he could let go of that habit in some places, but today wasn’t that day.  It did not take long to return to the courtyard.  Joshua was excited.  An outing, even one of slaying monsters, was exactly what he needed.  Some time out of the castle, focusing on something besides his immediate problems, alongside his brother like they used to.  Yes, this was exactly what he needed.  Clive wasn’t the only one who felt they needed to catch up, either.

        When he returned Clive stood exactly where Joshua had left him just like he knew he would.  They both knew that he had not been joking about hunting Clive down.  It would only prove a further headache if that had been necessary.  Setting a swift pace, they left the gate with their hoods pulled up, not that it would fool anyone who cared to look close enough.  Down the steps and into the bailey where they crossed into the stables to fetch Ambrosia and another chocobo for Joshua.  While leading her out of the gate, he idly considered the fact that he did not have a chocobo his own.  He’d never been allowed to leave, really, so it was no wonder.  But now perhaps he could.  It would be a lie to say he hadn’t been just a little jealous of Clive for that small bit of freedom.  Never could they have done something like this before.  It made the whole thing even more exciting.

        “Won’t Jill be upset with you when she wakes to find you gone?”  Clive tripped over a cobblestone.

        “She’s…

        “Coming too,” Jill finished, peering around the stable with the reigns of her own chocobo in hand.  She wore clothes much more practical to fight in today, rapier in its sheathe at her hip.  Torgal sat at her feet also patiently waiting.  “Someone was not as quiet in sneaking out this morning as he’d hoped.”

        “Torgal woke her when I left,” Clive explained.

        “Did you get provisions?”  He patted his saddlebag.

        “I’d have been out of the city by now, you know,” he grumbled. 

        “Glad you could make it, Sister.”  How Joshua loved calling Jill that.  Every time it left his lips he felt a warm patch soothe his soul and repair a little sliver of the long, lonely years he spent without his family.  Judging by her smile every time, she also enjoyed it.      

        “Let’s move.”  Clive bent to give Joshua a boost up to his saddle and then did the same for Jill.  While it still irked him that he couldn’t mount on his own, at least a boost was more dignified than someone lifting him as they had when they last left.  Excitedly, the three set off on an adventure, falling into the easy rhythm they’d created on the road from the hideaway.

        Jote hoisted her bag over her arm carefully so that she would not lose any of the herbs and other medicinal supplies she had collected out in the marshes.  It was not often she ventured so far away from Rosalith alone.  Master Lochlan had given her a list of things to seek out on her own as part of a test to ensure she could both recognize the ingredient and knew where to find it.  It was a distraction she should have been glad for.  Instead she was thinking about the Phoenix any moment her focus was not needed entirely on her task.  Which had proven to be most of the time.  She knew she was acting a fool, following him around and trying to dig up anything she could use to make sense of what she was seeing.  She knew it was only a matter of time before her search for answers got her into trouble either with the Undying or with the Phoenix himself.  But the more she found out the more she wanted to know.

        He was lying to her, of that she was certain, and she suspected he knew more of her situation than he wished to let on.  What she couldn’t figure out was why.  Were he the only one to have known her name perhaps she would have believed him.  But the lord marquess did as well and he was never in the infirmary.  There was no way she could imagine that the lord marques of all people should know her so easily.  Flimsy a rationale as it was alone, it was enough to convince her that there was indeed something there.  She didn’t buy that priming had healed the Phoenix or that Dominants instinctively knew certain things like they took a chill after priming.  She just couldn’t leave it alone.  It was probably the most mundane answer and yet she chased after it like it might crack open the fabric of the world and reveal a new one waiting just beneath the surface.  For reasons she couldn’t quite grasp, she desperately wanted to see that new world.

        It was ridiculous and unbecoming.  All of it.  She followed the Phoenix far too closely.  The Undying were meant to remain in the shadows.  He had caught her more than once though he never said anything.  That also perplexed her.  Shouldn’t he be admonishing her?  Instead he only looked at her sadly every time.  Maybe he felt sorry for her.  They all said he was kind; she’d seen that kindness herself.  Was it pity then?  Pity for a foolish girl acting as though she was sweet on someone far beyond her station?  She couldn’t fully explain why she was doing any  of it.  The closest excuse, and excuse was precisely the right word, was that it just felt wrong to not have him within her sight.  Like she’d left something important behind and it only abated when she knew he was well. 

        She heaved a sigh that bordered on a growl.  This had to stop.  Whatever this obsession was had to end.  Stop giving in to that ever-present temptation.  Were Master Lochlan to notice, he may well send her away from the castle, if not Rosalith entirely.  Were the rest of the Undying to notice, she would be dismissed from their ranks.  That was terrifying.  What would she even do if she were not Undying?  Perhaps she could be a physicker on her own.  She’d learned enough to begin, surely.  Perhaps she could at least remain in Rosalith.  It was home to her now.  She knew the real answer to that question, though.  Stop asking questions before she had to look for options.  Stop looking to the Phoenix for an answer which did not exist.  She had simply gotten lucky in caring for him.  That was all.  That part she knew wasn’t true, but she tried to convince herself of it anyway.  It would remain a mystery never to be solved.  Before any more damage was done, this would stop.  With another tug on her bag, she vowed that.  It ended now.

        There was a story Jote just barely remembered her parents telling her before bed when she was very little.  Watching over the world and those who inhabited it was Fate.  Fate would intervene in the affairs of mortals at times it deemed necessary, manipulating events in the favor of some desired outcome.  Sometimes that outcome would be for good, sometimes for ill.  Sometimes it would have little to do with those directly involved in said event.  When she was young the idea that Fate might conspire to place her in the best possible place was a secret dream of hers.  It sounded like such an amazing thing, to be in the midst of events that might rock the world.  As she got older she realized that the idea of Fate weaving together connections through the aether of the world was ridiculous.  Connections were made in more tangible ways.  But today?  Just maybe Fate did intervene.

        As Jote made the decision to, no matter what, cease her search for answers and began to leave the clearing with the morganbeards she’d come for, she heard the sounds of combat drifting on the wind.  Curious, she turned back towards the sound, stealthily finding her way to a patch of shrubs and peaking through the branches.  This far from the city, she hadn’t expected to hear anyone, let alone hear combat.  There was little she would be able to do if someone were in trouble, having no real training with the dagger she carried, but she couldn’t sit by and do nothing if someone were in trouble.  That, however, was most certainly not a problem for what she saw had her absolutely fixated.  It was the Phoenix along with his brother and Lady Jill.  They were fighting some hornets and a couple of large spiders.  He was incredible.  There was no hesitation in his movements, no reservations in the magic he sent forth.  He was sure of both his magic and his sword.  All thoughts of ending the search for truth vanished for once again she knew.  The boy who could not breathe had mastered the sword with none any the wiser.

        “Clive!” he shouted to his brother.  The lord marquess shouted something that Jote could have sworn sounded like Ramuh before grasping a pole out of the air and firing balls of lightning which attached to several hornets.  Right after, the Phoenix threw fireballs with absolute precision to hit each mote of attached lightning.  The hornets spasmed, burned, and fell to the ground.  Most were dead, but the one or two who survived were finished off by their hound.

        “We’re losing one!” Lady Jill shouted.

        “I’m on it!” the lord marquess answered.  This time he flung something like a talon forward to grasp the escaping spider and jerked it back toward him.  The talon disappeared and a spear of ice skewered the monster, followed by a charge of what almost looked like wind magic.  With the spider flat on the ground, the Phoenix suddenly appeared over top it from a shower of flame and stabbed down into it.  How he had gotten over there so quickly Jote had no idea.  All she knew was that she was hooked.  This was all spectacular.  She wanted to know exactly what she had just witnessed.  She wanted to know how the Phoenix had learned to fight so well.  She felt a child watching the Shields and wishing she could be like that. 

        It was all so incredible that she never heard the stranglethorn behind her, vines creeping into the shrub where she was hiding.  Not until those vines struck at her, depositing their venom into her exposed skin, did she realize.  Screaming in both surprise and fear, she fell out of her shrub into the clearing.  Her skin burned where the plant had made contact.  The venom was already making its way through her veins.  She could feel it.  All she could do was try to scurry away from the creature chasing her.  Legs already numbing, she stumbled.  The creature reared back for another attack and she didn’t think she could get away from this one.

            “Jote!”  Who screamed her name she had no idea.  One moment she watched in fear as the strangelethorn approached, the next flames obscured her vision as someone barreled into her.  The vine reaching for her struck the dirt where she once sat but she was tumbling away with someone holding her protectively.  They rolled across the dirt and grass roughly, though whoever it was did their best to keep the worst of it from her.  When they came to a stop, she was lying on top of the Phoenix, his hands gripping her arms.

        “Are you alright?”  His eyes were tight with worry, sending a pang of guilt straight through her.  In a rush she pushed herself off of him, nodding. 

        Why would he protect her of all people?  What kind of Undying was she that the Phoenix would rush to her side?  Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?  It should.  She knew it should.  She should be the one to protect the Phoenix.  Instead he was already kneeling before her, once again placing himself between her and danger.  Flames licked up his arm which he sent flying into the stranglethorn.  That singular bolt of magic was enough to not only kill it but leave the remains blackened and charred.   A rustling in the weeds to their left was the only warning before another vine careened their direction.  The Phoenix was the target.  Instincts she didn’t know she had told her that.  Those same instincts drove her to push him forward.

        He can’t be hurt!  I have to keep him safe!  He can’t be hurt! It’s my job to protect him!

        The vine missed the Phoenix and collided with her outstretched arm.  Venom from this bite spread quicker than the venom in her leg did.  If she didn’t act now it may well make it to her heart before she could stop it.  Except she had no antidotes with her and the herbs she’d collected would do little without being processed.  Pain flared from the injuries and she bit back a scream.  Gritting her teeth so hard she could hear it, she tried reaching for her bag in the desperate hope something was there.  She didn’t want this to be the end of her.  Although, if it was, at least it was partially in service to the Phoenix.  But her hand never reached the bag; the Phoenix gently took it instead.

        “It’s alright.  We came prepared.”  Bottle already in hand, he pulled the stopper and applied the antidote to each of her bites.  “Would that I could heal poison itself.  Alas that is not something the Phoenix is capable of.”  As the burning pain of the venom faded he pressed his hands against the wounds.  A new, soothing kind of warmth surrounded them as he healed her, a wholly unnecessary action.  The actual wounds themselves were nothing of note.  Yet she found she was too stunned to actually push him away.  “Why would you allow yourself to be injured like that?” he asked in a strained, quiet voice.  “You should know one bite is hardly enough to kill me.” 

        “You are the Phoenix.  It is my duty to protect you.”  He sighed with exasperation.

        “What were you doing out here?”

        “Gathering supplies for the master,” she murmured.

        “Jote, this has gone too far.  Please tell me the truth.”

        “I am.”  How dare he assume she was lying!  Or…she wanted to feel that way.  In truth she knew exactly why he did.  It was the same thing she’d been scolding herself over.  Were it not already patently obvious that he knew, his phrasing now said it all.  Playing innocent would only do harm.  “I was not following you, your highness.  I truly happened to be nearby and heard fighting.”  His blue eyes studied her intently for a long moment before nodding.  Somehow that acceptance made her feel better.

        “Please do not put yourself between me and harm again.  I do not wish to see you injured, especially in my place.”

        “It is my duty to protect you.”  The duty of all Undying was to serve the Phoenix.  If that required they act as a shield then so be it.  But there was more to it and just like before it scared her.  It was the same urge she had to stand before him with dagger in hand.  The same urge to make him tea and to keep him warm and give him lip balm.  Why did she keep doing this?  She couldn’t simply ask such a thing, though.  “Where did you learn to fight like that?” she prodded instead.  If she were lucky perhaps she could pry some information out of him.  His expression hardened.  She could feel him closing off, backing away slowly.  This would not be the day, she thought.  Until he stopped. 

        “You are not going to end this hunt, are you?” he whispered.  To himself or to her she was not sure.

        “Joshua!”  Lady Jill and the lord marquess ran into view from the direction of the stranglethorns.  “How is she?”

        “Good as new,” the Phoenix announced.  “I should like to stay out tonight, however.  I am sure a stolas to Father will be sufficient to prevent a search party.”  The lord marquess crossed his arms and leaned on his back leg, eyeing his brother curiously.

        “You need not convince me, but might I ask why?”  The Phoenix looked at him, then nodded back to Jote subtly.  The elder Rosfield somehow seemed to understand exactly what was going on, but the Phoenix explained anyway.

        “It seems I have another tale to tell.”

Chapter Text

        “You have questions.” 

        The Phoenix sat across the fire from her, fixating on the pulsing embers within its depths rather than look at her.  His brother and Lady Jill chose to afford them privacy, leaving Torgal to fetch them if they were needed.  Right now the pup was a comfort to calm her nerves.  He was small, adorable, and very friendly.  A welcome distraction from her trembling hands despite her usual discomfort around dogs.  This might be her only chance for the answers she sought.  Nerves be damned, she couldn’t back down now.  Not when she was so close.  If only it were so easy to know where to begin.

        “I do,” she answered simply to buy herself time.  A list of discrepancies ran through her head every night since the Battle for Rosalith.  Jote had been attentive to every slip.  They were not as good at keeping their secrets as they wanted to believe.  Half the castle knew something had changed.  But where to start?  What was the most important?  If he only afforded her a single question, what did it need to be?

        “I will answer them if that is truly your wish.  But you must understand something first, Jote.  What you seek is no trifling thing.  You will become inexorably linked to something beyond imagining with this knowledge.  The simple act of knowing will become a burden in itself and that is something I will not force upon you.  For that reason alone I would prefer you reconsider.”  Jote remained quiet, mulling over the cryptic warning.  It was an act.  Deep down she already knew her answer.  She’d chosen it the moment she began this hunt.  Somehow she had always known this would not be simple.  That new world she knew hid just beneath the surface was within her grasp.

        “Back in the infirmary you asked why the master left you in my care.  It is because I knew what was impossible to know.  I knew you ached after semi-priming.  I knew you preferred the honey in my lip balm.  I knew you chilled and I knew your favorite tea.  There is no explanation.  When I was proven correct, my phantom knowledge became invaluable.  But it also frightens me.  I do not understand why I feel the need to protect you or why I sometimes reach for a medicine bottle because it is time for the evening meal or why I am anxious when I cannot find you.  If what you know can explain any of it, I do not care what secret I must carry.”  The Phoenix’s shoulders fell in resignation.

        “Then so be it,” he whispered dejectedly.  “I will therefore begin with an apology.  I recognized this knowledge the moment we met and had hoped it along with your curiosity would fade.  I did not consider how frightening it might be.  A life of your own was all I wished for you.  For the torment not addressing this sooner has caused you, I am truly sorry.”

        “Does that mean you know what’s happening?”  The hope refused to stay out of her voice completely.

        “Yes and no.  I cannot fathom precisely how this happened, but I can tell you from where the knowledge stems.  This will be your last chance to refuse and—”

        “You cannot tell me you have answers then expect me to walk away.”  The Phoenix merely smiled.

        “I know.  You have ever been relentless in whatever you set your mind to.  Do not fault me for trying.”  He said that so easily.  Like he knew her beyond their limited interactions.  “I have one selfish demand in exchange for this information.  You must call me by name.” 

        The cryptic warning did nothing to dissuade her; this gave her honest pause.  It was so disrespectful!  The Phoenix was revered among the Undying!  Someone above them in a lofty position they never wanted to reach for.  They were content to remain in the shadows to support him.  How could she commit such sacrilege?  Yet…he held such a knowing smirk.  Like he knew exactly what he was asking.  Like this was a test.

        “Not in public,” she reluctantly argued.  His eyes widened almost imperceptibly in surprise.

        “Nowhere you may be reprimanded,” he agreed.

        “Then you have a deal.”  Jote swallowed everything she knew and everything she’d been taught in the Undying.  She tried to see the boy before her instead of the Phoenix.  This was a line worth crossing.  She was certain of it.  “Joshua.”  Joy she couldn’t possible understand crinkled his eyes.  Now that she allowed herself to look, he had a beautiful smile.  “Tell me why it feels I know you, Joshua.”

        “Because you were, in another life, my closest friend and constant companion.”

        “What?”  His smile darkened and faded, his gaze returning to the embers.  Not avoiding this time.  Gathering himself.

        “Once, long, long ago, a being who could only be described as a god arrived in Valisthea seeking a land replete with aether and untouched by the Blight.  This god, Ultima, had plans to cast a massive spell yet was limited by his incorporeal form.  And so he created humanity and set about to wait for someone strong enough to hold his essence.  Centuries upon centuries passed before that person was finally born.  The god awoke, bent on claiming his vessel.  Having produced this vessel, humanity had fulfilled its purpose and would be purged for the sin of their free will.  But the vessel resisted.  His will was strong, made stronger by those who loved and supported him.  The god stood little chance.  All the aether he’d already amassed, however, led to something unexpected.  For when the god was slain and the vessel distributed that aether…”  Joshua pulled his eyes from the fire to look at her.  Flickering flames reflected in his blue eyes giving him a fierce look.  There was an unwavering determination set there.  In the back of her mind, she was no longer certain how old he was.  “Our journey began once more.”

        “What…what are you saying?”

        “I am saying I was told this story by Ultima himself, the parts I did not personally live.  Clive is the vessel, Jote.  He killed Ultima and we found ourselves returned to begin again.  Eighteen years in our past.”

        “We?”  She barely whispered the question.  She was barely breathing.  All she could manage was an unblinking stare.  The figurative ground had begun to crack in her mind and for the first time she glimpsed what lay beneath.  Something beyond imagining just as he’d said.

        “Clive, Jill, and myself.  Perhaps Torgal.  We’ve yet to make a firm determination.”  Torgal yipped twice like he was trying to explain before laying back down with a content sigh.  Jote steeled herself.  She had to ask.

        “And me?”

        “I do not know,” he sighed.  “I can tell you much but I’ve yet to understand how you have your phantom knowledge.  It seems to be your most deeply ingrained practices concerning me in particular.  To better explain, you need to know what originally happened at Phoenix Gate…”

        The Night of Flames.  The tale he told tore at every small feeling she had for their Phoenix.  Try though he might to hide it, the pain he still felt was plain to her.  So much death and destruction.  It was difficult to accept.  Rosaria seemed so safe, their Phoenix so strong.  To have it all collapse in a single night and by so few should have been a ridiculous idea.  Under no circumstances would she have believed any of this were she not already plagued by inexplicable knowledge.  A rebellious spark pushed against every word he spoke anyway, but it was far too late to start doubting now.

        “You, Jote, have been nearby practically since the moment I woke.  The Undying had relocated to Tabor, largely for my protection.  Nothing could keep me there when I learned of Ultima.  I’d a strong suspicion there was a connection to Clive’s mystery Eikon.  I would not sit idly by if he were in danger.  And so you were appointed my Attendant.  We set out in search of any scrap of information we could find.  That is why you know things.  You were both guard and physicker, guide and companion.  The world believing me dead, I was forced to hide much of my abilities unless we were shrouded far from civilization.  I could not count how many times you made that very tea for me or assisted me when I ached from the Phoenix. 

        “It was always just us.  Making terrible jokes under a sun too blazing hot to think.  Huddled under a tree doing our best to stay dry in the midst of a sudden downpour.  Reading far into the night at an inn and running a tab for fresh candles.”  He chuckled at whatever memory he was thinking about.  “Alright, I admit that was mostly just me.”  She realized she was suddenly smiling too from the warmth of something she didn’t remember.  “Even when we would return to Tabor we felt apart from the rest to some degree.  Our world was not theirs.  You were my best friend.  For many years, my only friend.  Albeit one I only now was able to convince to use my name.”  That lopsided grin confirmed her suspicions about the request.  But it also confused her.

        “Then why?  If I was your best friend, why would you keep me at arm’s length?  Why could we not be friends once again?” 

        “I would very much like to be, but…”  The crooked smile was gone, replaced by a wariness.  Perhaps it was a secret?  Did she step too far?  After a moment’s indecision he stood and picked up his sword.  Then he knelt before her to offer the hilt.  “Jote.  As the Phoenix, were I to order you to take up this sword and fight the monsters we did today in my name, alone and without my aid, would you do it?  Answer me true for I know you have no experience with a blade as of yet.  Would you throw yourself into harm’s way, knowing what it would do to you, simply because I ordered it?”  She stared at the offered sword in confusion.  Why would he ask that?  The role of the Undying was to do what the Phoenix commanded.  He knew it was not her place to question those orders.  There was a point he was trying to make but it was completely lost on her.  So she reached for the hilt of the sword, knowing it was what she would do were he to actually make such an order.  Her fingers barely touched the cold metal of the pommel before he ripped it away from her grasp.  “That is why.”  Returning to his spot opposite her, he plopped down onto the ground, sword beside him with a hand remaining atop it.

        “I do not understand.”

        “I know.  It is what made you a dutiful Undying and excellent Attendant.  I want more for you, Jote.  I have seen reports of Undying being killed in ruins trying to find something I asked for which was never there to begin with.  They could have run from the constructs to save themselves yet they pressed on until their last breaths.  I have seen bodies of Undying slaughtered by akashic creatures attacking their outposts because I was not there to give them permission to flee.  I have put down those who turned akashic themselves in the midst of an aether flood, stubbornly clinging to some duty that overwrote their right to life.”  The hand around his sword hilt clenched angrily.  His voice shuddered when he spoke.  “I have seen you take wounds in my stead simply because I carry the Phoenix.  You would never let me heal them.  I have watched you spend nights sleepless at my side because I trapped Ultima within my chest and it threatened to end me.”  Jote gasped, somewhat missing the point he was trying to make.

        “The wound I expected on your chest…”  He nodded.

        “I used the Phoenix to trap him before he could take Clive.  The prison became a visible crystal, just here.”  He tapped his finger against his chest, exactly where she knew he would.  “The constant draw on my power began the curse upon my body.  It swiftly reached my lungs.  There were days I could barely speak, let alone move.  You sacrificed much to ensure I was as well as I could be.  I do not wish that again.  I do not want to see you wounded or sleepless or worried because of me.  Because of your duty to my Eikon.  I feared that knowledge you somehow have would compel you to follow me once more and events would repeat themselves.”

        “Though I am young, I am still Undying.  It is my duty to—”

        “I don’t care, Jote.”  Joshua squeezed his eyes shut.  “Forgive me but I do not.  Duty is the death of freedom.  I was the cause of that death for you once already.  I will not be so again.  Please.  Might we try being friends without duty?”  When he opened his eyes they were pleading with her.  The depths of a thousand woes and wrongs.  The strength of pushing onward always.  Never had she believed in their Phoenix as much as she did as in that moment.  And yet he seemed so vulnerable.  Those woes and wrongs frightened him.  That strength burdened him.  Maybe it was that phantom knowledge at work once more, but she felt she could read him easily.  He was trying to protect her because he had not been able to before. 

        “Alright, Joshua.”  The relief which spread through him was palpable.  Every muscle relaxed and his smile touched his eyes, lighting them like she’d never seen.  She moved closer to sit next to him, his sudden happiness emboldening her.  “Then tell me of our adventures.”

        Joshua told her of travels far, wide, and everywhere in between.  The Dzemekys Falls, the ruins littered throughout the area, the northern Blight, and the plains of Sanbreque.  Hidden libraries, Fallen ruins, abandoned towers, they searched nigh every inch of Storm together.  It was little wonder that even among the Undying they felt as outsiders.  They spoke for a long time.  The longer Joshua talked the more animated he grew.  His laughter was infectious.  She could see why she likely had followed him for so long.  It was comfortable.  Dare she call it familiar?  He spoke of few people so gladly.  His brother, Lady Jill, and Jote herself.  While she was honored to be one of those people he held so dear even now, she realized something else. 

        The Phoenix, the great revered Dominant, was not so different from anyone else she knew.  There was a pang of loneliness sometimes that, once she noticed it, was impossible to ignore.  So many people looked to him because of his Eikon.  Yet he only spoke of three.  How many took this time to look past the Eikon?  How many Undying could say they truly knew Joshua?  The next realization would have brought tears to her eyes were she not well trained in regulating her expression.  This phantom knowledge of a non-existent timeline, however it happened, allowed her the opportunity to know him better than anyone outside his family.  It took a supernatural force for her to see him.  That was unacceptable.  Jote was determined to get to know him just as well now as she had then and she was already formulating a few ideas to do just that.

        Jote stood by the door of the Shield’s barracks in the dim early morning.  Several days had passed since the incident out in the marshes.  Several days since she finally learned the truth.  Searching for answers had become routine at this point so it proved difficult to stop.  Any time she had a question she could simply ask and Joshua was quick to answer.  It was calming to know she could speak with him whenever she wished.  Once or twice she’d felt the need to check on him, but now that she understood the source of such inclinations it was easy to convince herself it was nothing.  The fear that accompanied her knowledge vanished leaving curiosity in its place.  What else did she know about him?  Joshua was often uncomfortable when she knew things.  It seemed he blamed himself in some twisted sense of caring.  But Jote found it fascinating.  That, in part, was what brought her to the barracks today. 

        In the days since that fireside confession, there was a thought that would not leave her.  Should she act on it, it would change the path of her life in quite a drastic way.  And considering Sir Wade had already given her advice concerning this bizarre situation, he might also be well-suited to advise her once again.  Looking back on his words now, it was guaranteed that he was in on the secret.  Were they able to be transparent with one another now as they had not then, it could prove enlightening.  The problem was finding him.

        “…you it will work.”  That search proved irrelevant as the door swung open.  Sir Wade emerged mid-conversation with another Shield she didn’t recognize.  “A good, solid argument is all we need.  There’s no telling how that thing will react now when events don’t go to plan.  We may not have eighteen years.”  Jote smiled.  She knew it.  He did know.  As did his companion, it would seem.

        “I still believe they will be harder to convince than you think.”

        “Sir Wade!” Jote called after him, pushing herself off the wall.  Wade spun at his name a little flustered.  A fair reaction given their conversation.  When he saw her, though, he smiled kindly.

        “If it isn’t the young physicker.  Jote, right?”

        “Yes, Sir.”

        “Tyler, this is Jote.  She stitched me up that night.  Jote, Tyler.

        “A pleasure to meet you, Sir Tyler.”

        “And you, Jote.  I hope my companion was a reasonable patient.”

        “Oi!”

        “He was.  My first unsupervised patient, in fact.  I trust your wounds have healed well, Sir Wade?  Ciara removed your stitches, I believe.”

        “She did.  Commended your job, too.  Now what brings you here so early?  I suspect my old wounds are not cause to be waiting outside the barracks at barely dawn.”

        “No, they are not, though I am glad to hear they healed well.  I was hoping to speak with you about something else, actually.”  Now that she was really going through with this she was nervous.  Holding back the urge to wring her hands, she continued with what she hoped looked like confidence.  “You gave me some advice that night which proved most helpful.  Since then I have been entrusted with certain information that I am certain you share.  As such, I would like to ask your advice once more.”

        “What kind of information do you think I might have?  I’m just a Shield, Jote.”  Hm.  He was a very convincing liar.  Were she not certain of her conclusion she would have believed him.

        “I discovered what I expected to find upon his chest,” she said quietly enough to keep the secret among them, though no one was nearby.  “As well as the source of my knowledge.  I was, it seems, his attendant once.”  Holding his firm gaze, she slightly raised her eyebrows for emphasis, silently urging him to fill in her deliberate gaps.  The change was quick.  Wade hummed with understanding and put an arm around her shoulders to escort her somewhere more private.  Tyler followed behind, apparently catching on, or at least taking a cue.  Wade led them down an alley, around a corner, and into the armory.  Once inside he leaned against a wall and crossed his arms while Tyler remained near the door to keep a watchful eye.

        “So you’re in on the big secret now too, are you?”

        “I am certain there are details he has yet to explain, but yes.  I ought not say this yet I think it best.  If you are trusted to such degree I see no reason that should not continue.  Have you heard of the Undying, Sir Wade?”

        “Heard the name once, but that’s all.”

        “I have heard a rumor or two,” Tyler said.  “Servants to the throne in the shadows.  I always assumed it a legend.”

        “It would be more accurate to say we are servants of the Phoenix, then the throne, but in essence, yes.  That is the short of it.  I am a member of the Undying, as is Master Lochlan.”

        “Hm.  Not a legend then,” Tyler said and returned his attention toward the door.

        “It would seem it was we who rescued the Phoenix after the Night of Flames.  When he ventured out, I was appointed his Attendant.  Both guardian and physicker.”

        “Which explains things in the infirmary,” Wade guessed.  Jote nodded.

        “Though we know not how it came to be.”

        “Alright.  One mystery partially solved.  What do you need from me?”

        “I can be his physicker even now.  I would gladly do so.  But I find I am not satisfied with only that.  I was once someone who could do more.  Someone who could stand with him in place of his Shield.”  Words failed her.  Once this was said, the idea existed in the world beyond her mind.  It made it real, real enough to pursue.  Steadying the nerves and calming the fear, she forced the words from her lips.  “I want to begin training for combat.  I want to be that person again.  I want to be someone he can depend on for I fear he allows precious few to be truly close.  Were I to take this request to the Undying now in a time of relative peace, I would be forced into weak logic to protect Josha’s secrets.  And so I wondered if you might be able to offer advice.  Could I perhaps seek training from a Shield?”  Wade stared at her in surprise.

        “They have that effect on people,” Tyler muttered mostly to himself.

        “Jote, what you’re asking is a lot.  Officially, it’s unlikely to be possible.  I’ve never heard of a woman training as a Shield.”

        “I do not wish to be a Shield.  Only to be trained by them.”

        “That’s part of the problem.  How do you intend to explain it?  It would be no easier while keeping secrets.”  Jote’s heart sank.  He was right.  In her excitement she’d overlooked something critical.  Well, good she asked before acting.  Perhaps there was another way.

        “Thank you, Sir Wade.  I will find another way to receive the training I need.”

        “Need, is it?”  Tyler’s question caught her mid-stride on the way to the door, the door from which he was not moving.

        “Mayhap this is some remnant of a previous life.  Yet I wish to aid and to follow.  I cannot follow if I cannot fight.  I will not place an extra burden upon Joshua because I cannot defend myself.  I do not want to need protection when I only wanted to help.  Therefore, yes, I do need training.”  Wade sighed, looking at her with a mix of pity and understanding.

        “Look.  What you want may be possible if we bent half a dozen rules.  You need to be absolutely sure about this.  It will be the most physically difficult thing you’ve done in your short years and I won’t be cutting any slack for you.”

        “Sir Wade, would you?”  Eyes wide, Jote caught her breath from the implications of his statement.  “I am certain of this.  I swear it.  I know this will be no easy journey to embark upon.  It would not be worthwhile if it were.”

        “Alright, then.  I’ll help you myself.”

        “You would avail her little with that axe of yours.  She needs training with something more her size.  So I will help as well, if that is agreeable, Lady Jote.”  Wade rolled his eyes dramatically.  Jote suppressed a smile at the banter.

        “We can do what we can for you when we have the time,” Wade said.  “If nothing else we can set you on your way.  But one day you will need more than just us if it is the Phoenix you wish to guard.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “You’re going to need his First Shield.  When that day comes, there will only be so much we can do to help you convince him.”

        Aether coursed throughout Valisthea with ease.  It ebbed and flowed, swirled and pooled.  Dangerous storms of it and a dangerous lack of it.  It painted the world into a kaleidoscope that could act as a map if one could but read it.  They could read it.  They often did.  It was their primary connection to the outside world from within the fallen plane in which they had made their existence.  They could see where the stain of humanity congregated, bright and unwavering.  They could see the Blight, large swathes of land none could peer into through the darkness.  The aether itself skirted the edge of those regions in the constant tide.  Considerable effort had gone into harnessing that tide for their purposes.  They did not feel time.  The concept meant nothing to them.  Yet so much of it had passed that they forgot their goal sometimes during the long wait.  That feeling of having lost something appeared more infrequently of late.  The time had almost arrived.  The Mothercrystals had nearly completed the task for which they’d been created.  One thing remained.

        Every now and again in the midst of their flowing map, a spot would outshine all the aether around it.  The Eikons.  It was they which held most of their attention.  They cared little for them once they were known for there was only one which they cared for.  Only one which had never been seen for it took such incredible fortitude to bear that none before held the strength to do so.  That was who they waited countless eons for.  An Eikon so strong it would never be awoken without intervention.  In the early days they attempted force it onto a person.  Even now they sometimes tried out of idle curiosity.  Each time the experiment was met with immediate petrification from the curse before it took hold, a sure sign that stronger subjects were needed.  Of course, the Eikon itself meant little to them in their grand scheme.  It was more a sign.  If one were to carry Ifrit, they would be the vessel.  None would be more powerful.

        If they could feel excitement, the moment they felt Ifrit emerge into the world would have been the moment they experienced it.  They actually smiled at that glowing brightness in the aether flow.  Humanity had finally served its purpose and this laughable experiment at life could end.  Growing a vessel would have gone much faster had they not needed to wait for a natural evolution.  Casting off their physical body may have been the most practical solution when they fled the darkness, but it only served to prolong their suffering.  At last the moment was nigh.  Soon, they would come to collect their vessel and return what was.  They needed wait only a little while longer.  Ifrit would consume the Eikons and then be drawn to the Mothercrystals.  It mattered not to them how it happened; it simply would.  That was the purpose of their creation and it would be seen through.  They need only wait for the natural instinct of the vessel to heed their orders.  It was of no concern that the vessel was stronger than they expected.  In fact it was a wonderous surprise.  Their calculations all those eons ago must have been modest.  With the strength they felt the night Ifrit was awoken, this would be a most fitting vessel.  Precisely the thing they needed to restore the world.

        Satisfied in the absolute certainty that Mythos would soon be his, Ultima turned his sight from the world to wait for the moment his vessel would be within his grasp.  By the time that Dominant approached a Mothercrystal, approached close enough for Ultima to claim them, they would already be cast aside by all.  A shell of a human ready for him.  All that aether flowing through a single individual would make them bordering on akashic already.  After countless eons, there was nothing that would stop the resurrection now.

Chapter Text

Seven Years Later

   Ran’dellah, Dhalmekia Republic

        Hugo Kupka listened to the Republic’s council chitter on without end about something he hadn’t been listening to from the start.  As the economic advisor of Dhalmekia, it was expected he attend these meetings.  Rarely did he participate in them.  The politics of the other countries interested him little.  So long as his flow of gil remained intact, it mattered little how he came by it.  Of course, the most stable method was by keeping the Dhalmekia Republic as profitable as possible, so he was invested in the council when it came to his title.  But there was a limit.  Their interests in relations with Sanbreque and the Dominion were nothing to him. 

        His mind wandered to other things that needed attention.  A new trade deal was on the table with the merchants in Kanver.  A supply route through a little town to the north.  What was the name of it again?  Darimin?  Lavimil?  Bah, he’d remember it later.  His cigar box was also getting low.  Those were too hard to come by to wait too long.  He’d developed a sincere preference for a particular type of cigar rolled only by one village in Waloed.  Truly there was none finer, which naturally meant they were fit for the most powerful man in Dhalmekia no matter the trouble he went to for them.

        If only this ridiculous meeting would finally wrap up, he could do the work he was actually meant for.  Honorary title for the use of Titan or not, Hugo took the role of economic advisor seriously.  Even if it was partially self-serving.  The better the Dhalmekian city-states fared, the more money he pulled into his own coffers.  Before Titan appeared, Hugo never imagined the wealth he now reveled in.  These days he regularly spent amounts he couldn’t even count to then, and spent it on the most frivolous of things.

        “One day this may well effect the coffers,” said Councilor Adan, a thin twig of a man Hugo could use as a toothpick.  The inclination had entered his mind more than once, actually.  The only thing saving Adan thus far was his long hair that Hugo would prefer not to pick from his teeth. 

        “The trade agreements are still in place with Rosaria, are they not?”  This time it was Councilor Zevki who spoke.  That whining voice of his made him sound a perpetual child.  Hugo couldn’t stand him

        “They are,” Adan answered.  “It was hardly noticeable at first but it has grown more marked in recent years.  They are purchasing fewer crystals from our mines.”

        “That’s ridiculous!” Councilor Basheer protested hotly.  He was the only one Hugo actually liked: all action with little talk.  “They control no Mothercrystal.  Could they have received a better deal in the Empire?”

        “It’s unlikely,” Councilor Pirren answered softly.  “According to reports, they have made no moves on Drake’s Breath despite the approaching Blight from both north and south.  The numbers on their eastern borders where the crystals come from Sanbreque is also down, by all appearances.  I could almost think, were it not completely ludicrous, that they have given up all intention of harnessing the Mothercrystals.”  Pirren wouldn’t be so bad if he could speak up and learn his place.  A councilor of a Dhalmekian city-state should not act so unsure of themselves.  But his instincts were often eerily correct.  Hugo, however, was the only one to have taken notice of those instincts.  This assessment struck him as just one of those that they should all pay attention to.  Instead, the rest of the council laughed.  Maybe it wasn’t so surprising that Pirren was soft-spoken after all.

        “Ignore the blessing of the Mothercrystals?” Basheer stuttered through riotous laughter.  “Have you taken leave of your senses, Pirren?   Magic is a necessity of life.  Everyone knows this.”

        “They must simply be getting their crystals from somewhere we weren’t expecting,” Zevki agreed.

        “The university built by the Archuke—”

        “Is nothing more than a balm to soothe the populace,” Basheer interrupted.  “Non-magical technologies have no place in the Twins.  The university is a front to give the people a false sense of security in the belief their beloved Archduke is trying to do something against the Blight.  Zevki is right.  They are getting crystals in secret from elsewhere.  It is the only explanation.”  Pirren shrank back, sensing he would not sway the others.

        “I would not dismiss this so completely,” Councilor Erol warned them sternly.  “Mayhap they have indeed found an unexpected source for crystals.  But it cannot be said this university is mere false security alone.  There have been strides made there, technologies dispersed to the public to make life without crystals and Bearers easier.”

        “Do not give me reason to think about their stance on Branded,” Basheer sulked.  Erol was the longest serving of the councilors.  It was unwise to fight him when it was not necessary.  Decades spent in amassing political power made him second only to Hugo himself.

        “The number of Bearers purchased has also decreased dramatically,” Pirren quietly clarified.

        “You’re giving Basheer reason!” Adan hissed too late.

        “They would undo everything our ancestors set into motion with their ridiculous notions.  Treat them as a commodity, yes, but with rights?  Just the other day I heard their latest so-called innovation was the requirement that all Bearers be taught to read and write!  For what?  What could a Branded possibly have to say?  Were that not enough, the state is sponsoring schools for the undertaking!  At this rate they’ll be declaring them free within the year.”

        “Their stance on Bearers aside for the time being,” Erol stopped him with a tone that would brook no argument, “it would be best if we continue to monitor the Duchy.  If it appears their need for crystal affects our coffers negatively, we would do well to have additional information with which to make a decision to move upon.  For now, we should adjourn this meeting.”

        Grateful this farce was over, Hugo was the first to leave the room.  This business with Rosaria was potentially a problem for him.  If they were no longer trading in Dhalmekian crystals, he needed to know.  There were surely other things they could trade in.  Frankly he didn’t particularly care where they bought crystals or what they did or did not do with them, with magic, or with Bearers.  The only thing he was interested in was the money.  If Rosaria didn’t want crystals, he would need to find something else they wanted to replace them with.  It would be a chore and a pain, but worthwhile in the end.  Still, it was odd.  A country that claimed two Dominants did nothing with them and seemed to be scaling back their need for magic.  Could they truly shun everything that made Valisthean society function? 

        That was a question for a scholar, not Titan.  Money in his pocket was all he cared for.  With money he could buy anything he could ever want.  It was already working to secure him the greatest real estate in the Republic: the heart of Drake’s Fang itself.  A fitting castle for him.  Head full of ideas and promises, he made his way back through the streets to his riad.  It was a lavish home, exquisitely decorated from foundation to top in oranges and golds.  Real gold, of course.  Let it not be said that Hugo Kupka paid only for the appearance of wealth.  Once a passerby had dared say it was gaudy in his presence.  While Hugo wanted to make a point with his fist to the man’s head for the insult, he was not so quick to anger that he allowed the desire to overtake him.  He was fairly certain that the man ran all the way to Kanver from Ran’dellah in fear when Hugo turned around.  The man actually shit himself before he could start running.  The only other comments he ever heard afterward were praise and jealousies.  Hugo stood taller every time he heard them, not that he needed to.

        The large, ornately carved doors opened to allow Hugo entry.  His staff was very well trained at this point.  No command needed issued; they simply knew.  The grandeur of the open-air central courtyard was lost on none, just as he intended.  A crossed waterway took up much of the courtyard and was easily the first thing anyone saw.  Every other tile of the mosaic floor was encased in gold leaf.  Seats were covered in the finest warm-colored silks.  Most who entered this hall never knew what to do with such fine ornaments.  Sitting upon the silks would only damage them.  Hugo had no concern for that.  If they showed some bit of wear, he would simply have them replaced.  As if to flaunt that fact, a silk canopy could be pulled over the courtyard for shelter against the midday sun.  Everything about this riad was meant to showcase power and wealth alike, and to put any visitors immediately off balance.  Which made the visitor taking his ease at the opposite end of the courtyard quite out of the ordinary. 

        “Your excellency.”  The mistress of the riad greeted Hugo with a practiced curtsey and a soft voice.

        “Saylia.”

        “A visitor arrived for you.  I told him you were indisposed yet he was disinclined to return at a better time.  He said he had business with you.”

        “Very well.  Fetch some refreshment for our guest.  I will receive him in my study.”  Saylia curtsied again.

        “Yes,  your excellency.”

        Hugo approached the man.  He reminded him of Councilor Adan in that he was the size of a toothpick.  Yet there was something hiding beneath the surface of his lithe figure and calm smile that belied a strength beneath.  Young looking but with silver hair, a stance that implied readiness for any situation, a marked respect in his eyes.  Hugo didn’t know who this stranger was, but he certainly was making an impression.  Not many stepped foot into Hugo’s riad with such ease and comfort. 

        “It is an honor to meet you, Lord Kupka,” the stranger said in a thick accent rarely heard in Ran’dellah.  That was a Waloeder accent.  He’d bet his last gil on it.  “My name is Sleipnir Harbard.  Might I request an audience on behalf of my liege?” 

        Impression duly made, Hugo merely nodded and beckoned the man to follow.  He could barely hear his footsteps on the tile as they walked up the stairs and towards the study.  The acoustics of this riad were such that footsteps echoed everywhere.  It was a constant annoyance.  This Harbard must have been incredibly light on his feet to prevent such a normal thing.  It only piqued Hugo’s curiosity further.  Just who was this man?

        The study was not a common stop for visitors and was therefore decorated closer to Hugo’s personal tastes rather than a show of wealth.  Not that it was not lavish or a show.  If he had to name it, this room came closer to a test.  There were a great many things about his study that were incredibly expensive.  The carved wooden panels had been imported from the last northern holdouts.  The muted burnt orange walls used a pigment rarely come by in Dhalmekia.  Caraffes from Rosaria, wines from Sanbreque, metalwork from the Dominion, it was truly a cornucopia right down to the carefully pruned olive branch extending into the space through the window.  The question for visitors was whether or not they could recognize what was before them.

        Hugo sat behind his desk, a monstrous thing which had to be carried to the riad in pieces and then assembled in the room.  It could never leave without significant damage to the piece.  That would be a shame when he left for his new castle overlooking the Mothercrystal, but it couldn’t be helped.  He had plenty of funds to commission a new, grander desk once the time came.  Harbard looked around the office, seeming impressed by his surroundings. 

        “This is quite the collection, Lord Kupka.  It is evident you’ve a taste for the finest things available in life.”

        “What business do you have with me?” Hugo asked tersely.  He was not in the mood for pleasantries after wasting half the day in the council chambers.

        “Right to business, then,” Harbard said with an easy smile and sank gracefully into the most expensive chair available.  It was not the most obviously opulent chair.  The craftsmanship gave it the price it carried.  And Hugo had a suspicion this Harbard knew that.  “I am a humble envoy of His Majesty, King Barnabas Tharmr of Waloed.  We recently came into some information which may be of use to you in particular, Lord Kupka.”

        “And what do you hope to gain for this information?”

        “It is but a trifling matter.  We wish to establish some level of relations with you, the mighty Titan.  The details of such alliances might be put to paper at a later date.  Consider this information an act of friendship in the hopes of kindling something more.”  Business was rarely so straight-forward.  There was always something, always a catch or hook or line.  Something the other party stood to gain.  Finding it and taking control was what made for good business, and taking control was Hugo’s strongest feature.

        Saylia entered the study with a soft knock, laying out refreshments for them.  It afforded Hugo the opportunity to think for a moment.  What could Waloed want from him?  He wasn’t particularly loyal to the Republic specifically, but there was little chance Waloed could offer him the same level of wealth or better.  Money did not make him loyal, but a lack of it wouldn’t entice him.  This was not the way trade deals usually began, either.  An envoy straight from the king was too high ranking to deal in such things.  Politics were not Hugo’s strong suit.  He would rather bash through a problem than dance around it.  That didn’t mean he hadn’t picked up a thing or two from listening to the council, however.  Favors were traded often in those halls.  Perhaps this was exactly what it seemed. 

        “Thank you, Saylia,” Hugo said as she curtsied and left.  Harbard daintily sipped his tea.  “What kind of information might you be willing to part with as a courtesy?”

        “I am certain it has not escaped your notice that your northern friends in Rosaria buy fewer shipments of crystals in recent years.  I wonder if you know that the number of Bearers within their borders has, in fact, increased?”

        “Sales have fallen in crystals and Bearers alike.”

        “So they have.  Yet Bearers are finding their way across the border nonetheless.  I imagine the lack of crystals being sold there is creating some trouble here in Dhalmekia, is it not?  For you in particular as the Economic Advisor, I should think.”

        “It is true the local markets are showing signs of oversaturation in crystals, yes.  There is nothing worrying to it.  These things happen from time to time.”

        “Too true,” Harbard agreed.  He set his teacup aside and reclined in the seat, crossing his legs.  “Tell me, Hugo, have you heard of the Dominants which make the Duchy their home?  It is said they will protect it from any threat.”

        “The whole of the Twins has heard of Shiva’s emergence alongside the Phoenix by now.  I fear you will need to do better than this if you want something of me, Harbard.”

        “Of course, of course.  The mighty Titan would most certainly have no difficulty against even two Dominants.  The strongest of the Eikons would never bow to frost nor flame, would he?”  Hugo didn’t like the smile Harbard was now wearing.  That soft smirk seemed ever-present upon the man’s lips, but it now widened ever so slightly into something almost sinister.  Harbard stood to idly examine the tree branch extending through the window.  “What if I were to let it slip that Rosaria has far greater aims than merely reducing their crystal dependency?”

        “I would laugh, stranger.  The Grand Duchy of Rosaria has never courted war save to win back Drake’s Breath.  They seem perfectly content to focus solely upon defense, only going on the offensive when required by treaty or necessity.  Even if they did now, as you said, Titan will not bow to a little frost or flame.”

        “Ah, but could you say the same if that number rose to three Dominants?”  Hugo’s eyes narrowed.  The location of every Dominant save Leviathan the Lost was well known.  “What of four?”  Harbard turned from the tree, still smirking, but with raised eyebrow.  “Could mighty Titan still stand in the face of five Dominants working together?”

        Hugo wanted to stand his ground.  He wanted to declare that he was the strongest, most powerful man in the Twins and that none would compare to him.  He carried the strongest Eikon, after all.  How could anyone hope to match him?  But Hugo was not completely blinded by his own strength.  Five could prove too much even for him, depending on who those five might be.  What worried him most was not that there could potentially be five Dominants within a single country or even that the country in question was exhibiting behavior none understood.  No, what worried him was the might of five Dominants, five Eikons working together.  It was well known that Dominants rarely worked together.  It was strange enough to find three in Waloed.  Should there be validity to five Dominants, Rosaria would have to be up to something.

        “Very well,” he finally sighed.  “You have my attention, Sleipnir Harbard.  What do you know?”

Meanwhile

   Oriflamme, Holy Empire of Sanbreque

        “Is this confirmed?”  Sylvestre Lesage looked over the report for the fifth time.

        “It is, Your Radiance.  Odin has decided to make a move toward Storm.  We believe he makes for Belenus Tor.”  The messenger, whose name Sylvestre was too distracted to remember, remained calm despite the report.  Would that he himself felt that calm, not that any of the worry or nerves would ever make its way toward cracking the demeanor he must always wear as Emperor.

        Long had Waloed controlled the Strait of Autha.  The king had made no real advances in recent years.  Even without a mind for battle Sylvestre could see Tharmr’s tentative overtures were little more than prods, reminding Sanbreque that Odin still loomed just beyond the waves.  Little could be done save hold their breath in preparation, or anticipation, of the day the bubble finally burst and the illusion of peace was revealed for what it truly was.

        “Two Dominants to our west and three to our east,” he murmured absently.  It was the same standing as yesterday but overnight it had become a real problem.  Were Ramuh and Garuda to join their king, Bahamut would stand no real chance.  Their greatest hope there was that neither were typically seen in battle.  While he couldn’t discount them based on that alone, it did allow him to breathe easier.  Could they count on Rosaria’s Dominants staying their hand now? 

        “Your Radiance,” a new voice called respectfully.  Sylvestre hadn’t heard her enter the room.  He rarely did.  Therese was an absolutely silent force in the castle.  Once it had unnerved him.  Now he saw the value in it.  There was nothing the woman did not know and he had come to rely on that more often in recent years.  Therese frequently put his augurs to shame.

        “Leave us.”  The messenger quickly bowed and left the room, giving Therese a wide berth.  “What have you found?”  She stepped closer and bowed her head, wisps of short black hair falling forward onto her tanned skin.

        “Your Radiance.  Odin has reconfigured the blockade.  Given their positioning, Belenus Tor is the most likely objective.”

        “So he means to find a foothold on Storm.”

        “It would seem that way, yes.  There is more.  I have it on good authority that Rosaria intends to free all Bearers within the Duchy.  The papers are being drawn as we speak and will likely go into effect within the month.” 

        Sylvestre kept a calm mask on his face while he looked out over the palace gardens.  On the far side he could see Dion helping the child of a visiting viceroy to hold his lance.  The child’s shoulders shook with laughter when they tumbled forward, Dion catching them with a smile.  A Branded servant passed nearby and Dion nodded toward them with that same smile.  The sight fueled the seething resentment broiling beneath his calm visage.

        Rosaria would truly break the oldest of treaties?  The singular thing which all nations in Valisthea could agree upon?  There were rumors they would attempt such a thing, they’d been whispered in dark corners for years.  They were never supposed to come true.  All thought Rosaria mad for just the rumors.  But should it come to pass, sights like this would eventually be commonplace there.  Somehow he had a feeling his son would think little of such things here as well.  There were also rumors concerning the prince that he went out of his way not to mistreat Branded and forbid any others from doing so.  A fight or two had broken out in the training yards over it.  Could Rosaria have influenced him somehow? 

        “Could they have made an alliance with Waloed?” he whispered to himself, giving voice to the more immediate thought creeping in from the recesses of his mind.  It seemed unlikely, even he could admit that.  Rosaria had been somewhat withdrawn in recent years, trusting few after the attempt at Phoenix Gate.  Yet the timing was suspicious.

        “While I cannot prove that, neither can I disprove it.  And yet…”

        “Go on.”

        “Perhaps I ought not say this, Your Radiance.  It is not as corroborated as I would like.”  It was unlike Therese to hesitate or mention information she was not certain of. 

        “I would hear it nonetheless,” he said, deciding it would be unwise not to heed her words.

        “It is something I overheard in a tavern.  Once freed, the Rosarians intend to recruit willing and able Bearers into the military.”

        “We have all used Bearers on the field of battle, Therese.  The fact that Rosaria rarely called upon them was an abnormality.”

        “Yes, Your Radiance.  But most do not train those Bearers.  As the rumor goes, the Rosarians intend to train them as equal parts of their military might.  That would give them a significant edge against most, particularly considering their two Dominants.  They seem to be preparing for something.  The only thing I can see is retaliation for the attack on Phoenix Gate.”

        “You would conclude that over the possibility of another attempt on Drake’s Breath?”

        “I would.  They have begun an active campaign against magic inside the Duchy.  It makes little sense to strike for the Mothercrystal now.”

        She was right and Sylvestre knew it, little though he wanted to admit it.  It seemed Rosaria never did anything the way the rest of the world would.  “Eccentric pyromaniacs,” he’d heard them called once or twice.  As the years went on, he could see why.  To read the Archduke’s address to the nation in the weeks following Phoenix Gate was a blow.  Losing the opportunity to claim another Mothercrystal and another Dominant could have cost him the throne if any but the highest of councilors had known of the raid.  More to the point, it was obvious Rosfield knew precisely whom to blame.  Sylvestre had spent months preparing in secret for the attack he knew must be coming.  The attack never happened, much to his relief.  And confusion.  Yet year after year Rosaria somehow seemed to grow stronger.  They must rival the Empire by now and thus far Sylvestre had little idea how they had managed such a feat.  All while slowly ridding themselves of magic.  It was absolutely infuriating.  How could a duchy full of eccentric pyromaniacs overtake the Empire in infrastructure, economy, social stability, political might, even winter stores all while the people would do anything for their Archduke and the Phoenix.  It couldn’t be as simple as they would have it seem.  There must be something more. 

        “They have been playing us all for fools,” he said, the reality of the situation suddenly clear to him.  “The Duchy has been waiting for an opportunity to strike out when the rest of Storm has ceased looking their way.  If it is not an alliance with Waloed, they would certainly use Odin as a convenient distraction and they would recruit Branded to bolster their numbers against us.”  It made perfect sense.  If Rosaria were preparing for something, and it was not the Mothercrystal, the only other logical place they could attack is Sanbreque or Dhalmekia.  And make no mistake, it would be Sanbreque first.  They would not allow Phoenix Gate to go unpunished.  “Send for Dion.  Bahamut will be needed on two fronts sooner rather than late.”

        “It is good he has wings, Your Radiance,” Therese quipped softly.  She bowed to his back and made for the door, allowing her heels to click on the marble as she walked.  A satisfied smirk slipped onto her lips, accompanied by a soft blue glow in her eyes. 

        But Sylvestre saw none of that.  He was preoccupied looking out into the gardens.  From where he stood he could see a few Bearers going about their duties.  These were granted more appropriate clothing for the castle, of course.  It wouldn’t do to have their Branded filthy and traversing the halls when there was need.  Those here, trimming trees with their wind, lighting stylized braziers with their flames, allowing water to flow through the ponds, they were all part of the sight.  A part of the fixture.  He rarely thought about them.  But what Rosaria would propose to set in motion would undo everything.  If one nation broke this treaty to free Branded, rebellions would spark across the Twins.  It would lead to the wars of old once again.  He could not allow such a thing.  Rosaria’s blasphemy would be the undoing of them all.  Once Odin was pushed back, they would turn to Rosaria.  It may not be in time to stop their liberation folly, but the Holy Empire of Sanbreque would not let it spread.  This, Sylvestre swore.

        Now how to go about such a feat.  It would need to be a delicate and efficient operation to combat both threats at once.  He sank into his throne, mulling it over.  None had defeated Tharmr in decades, making him the obviously greater threat.  In relatively little time he took control of the whole of Ash.  He would do the same to Storm if given the opportunity.  A foothold would be all he needed to truly begin.  Exactly how that was prevented he would gladly leave to those with a better grasp of the martial arts.  There was but one thing which still concerned him. 

        Dion had never primed.  The augurs discovered the magic of Bahamut by happenstance, in truth.  As a young boy he tried to defend a friend.  His powers awoke in the midst of the scrap, burning one and blinding another.  The strength of that power could be felt far and wide.  There had been little question it was the power of a Dominant rather than a Bearer, though the augurs did have a great many tests to make sure of such conjecture.  From that point forward Dion used his power sparingly.  Never did he call on Bahamut fully.  When asked, long after a point all expected him to utilize his Eikon, he would only say that he desired to fight with his own strength until he was ready for Bahamut.  Sylvestre had given him as much time as he could.  Now, if Dion was not ready, Bahamut simply would have to be.

        “You requested my presence, Your Radiance?” Dion said from the door.  He crossed the room and knelt before the throne, chainmail rattling with the motion.  As the door closed, Sylvestre caught a glimpse of the boy who seemed to forever follow wherever Dion went.  His presence often annoyed for reasons Sylvestre could not quite grasp.  Never had he done anything improper or spoke out of turn.  He was everything a second in command should be.  Yet it always felt as if he were listening, scrutinizing every word in search of something.  Dion trusted him; Sylvestre did not.  Thank Greagor the boy stayed in the hall this time. 

        “Odin has moved from Stonhyrr.”  Dion rose, quiet determination in his eyes.  Good.  He understood what this meant.  “We believe he seeks a foothold on Storm at Belenus Tor.”  Quiet determination slipped for just a moment, giving way to an emotion Sylvestre struggled to name.

        “So soon?” Dion barely whispered. 

        “Dion?”  The foreign emotion vanished without trace.

        “Forgive me, Your Radiance.  Belenus Tor is not an ideal location for a first advance.  I had expected the king’s eyes to fall there much later.  I shall rally my dragoons.  Tharmr will not find what he seeks.”  Swiftly he turned back toward the door and he thought he heard a whispered “not this time” as he did so.

        “Dion.”  His son halted rigidly without turning as if he’d an inkling of what might come next.  “It is neither your lance nor your dragoons we shall need before this is over.  Bahamut must face Odin.”

        “Our people will be safe, Your Radiance,” he answered stiffly over his shoulder.  “This I swear.”  Dion then swiftly retreated out the door allowing for no further comment, already speaking to his second before the doors closed.

        Sylvestre pulled his forefinger across his lips in thought.  There was something about his son that, every so often, seemed out of place.  Stronger than he ought be.  More strategic than experience would dictate.  Seemingly terrified of his own Eikon with no reason.  That answer just now had not been a confirmation nor a denial, after all.  Counting those oddities with the way he treated Branded, he could only assume that his son secretly held opinions quite different to his own.  To the opinions of the Empire.  Considering Dion’s awakening was a leading reason Sylvestre now sat on the throne, the possibility made him nervous.  Just who was his son?  What did he think himself capable of?  He had not held onto his throne this long without developing a healthy dose of suspicion.  And right now, his instinct was telling him his own son could not be trusted.

Chapter Text

            “There are more of these blasted things every year,” Wade grumbled as the leader of this band of goblins fell dead, horn tumbling into the water beside them. 

        “The Blight pushes more of them further and further south,” Tyler grumbled back, flicking his sword clean of blood.  “I expect we shall soon see far worse in far stranger places.”

        “Morbols in the marshes, you mean?  Oh, right.”  Wade chuckled at his own joke, catching a small smile from Tyler.  With his axe clean, he hefted it back into its sheathe.  “Alright, what’s next?  That was the only report in this area, right?  Not that those folks from Amber would tell us if there was something else.  Had to wring this one out of them as it was.”

        “You know how the most remote villages can be.”

        “Insular and ever on-guard for the next threat,” Wade mocked in a grand tone.  “Think those were the words Joshua used, right?”

        “Would that they might believe the next threat is not a Shield.  I have begun to think Clive had the better role of hunting with Jote today.”

        “Maybe.  We’d done all we could for her, though.  Time to shadow the First Shield himself.”

        “I expected a few more years before she was ready.  She sets a daunting pace.”

        “That she does.  Helped the Guardians too, teaching her the ropes.”

        Seven years.  Where had the time gone?  Clive had nearly taken their heads off when they brought Jote and asked to continue her training.  Wade wasn’t sure if he was more displeased that they had hid it from him or that they had done it to begin with.  There was a lot of conversation with him and Joshua both about it, not that Wade knew what they spoke of.  Clive finally agreed to do it about six months ago and if Jote had been fierce before, she was unstoppable now.  Not even Wade liked his chances in a straight fight with her.  The Guardians of the Flame, as he and the others had begun to call themselves, thought of her as the little sister of the Shields.  She would always have a place among them, Undying or not.  It was exciting to watch her grow into the kind of warrior she wanted to be.

        “This may be asking for trouble, yet this seemed too easy a task for the damages we heard of from travelers.”  Tyler walked around the goblins as he spoke, mentally counting them and tallying the likelihood of more hiding just out of sight. 

        “You sure you aren’t just itching to stay out a while longer?” Wade teased with a smile.  Although, he had to admit he could see where Tyler was coming from, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.  There were only six goblins and that leader.  The reports they’d had would have required a far larger number.  More like a nest of them.

        “Let’s look around further.  I would feel more at ease if we did not rely on the word of those who were most displeased to see us to start.”

        “Guess you’ve got a point.” 

        They headed further into the marshes looking for any sign of a larger number, not entirely sure if they wanted to find more or not.  No one would want to know a goblin nest was around, but if there wasn’t one, something else must have been attacking travelers along the road and that would set them back trying to figure out what and where.  Oh well.  At least it was a nice day.  Once Wade thought he heard a crack of thunder, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.  He tossed a questioning look towards Tyler, who appeared to have heard it too, then thought little more of it.  Hard to have thunder in the sky without clouds to make it, right?

        “Fuck me…” Cid groaned loudly.  “How are there so many of you in Rosaria of all places?”  A goblin sprang at him and he rounded on it, cutting it nearly in half with his sword. 

        This morning had started out so well.  Late breakfast, building a tower of stones with Mid that stood with technical precision, strolling through the Rosarian countryside.  If he was being honest, Rosaria was one of his favorite places in the Twins.  Humid in the summer, but picturesque year-round.  Reminded him of Ash when he first got there.  Before the place fell to the Blight.  Before Barnabas’ lunacy.  There had been no need to rush, especially not with Mid wanting to look at absolutely everything on Storm.  Cid was glad he’d waited to leave Waloed, dangerous though it had been.  He could have left any time after he found her.  He’d been ready to do just that should Barnabas leer at him a moment too long.  But he wanted her to have a few years if he could.  It would be better than trying to get an infant out while potentially fighting the whole damn army.  They’d had scrapes along the road, as was to be expected these days, but nothing like this.  Goblins were not a thing he necessarily needed to fear.  He was a Dominant.  There were just so many!  Since when did innocent travelers wander into goblin nests in the middle of the Rosarian marshes?

        “Behind you, Dada!”  Cid swung at another ankle biter then kicked it for what would have been an impressive distance had someone been there to measure.  Mid cheered, though he wasn’t sure he liked it under the circumstances.  His daughter should not have to watch this.

        “Just once,” slice, “I would love,” parry, “this welcome party,” jab, “to be an invitation to tea!”  He stomped hard on the last, thick blood covering his boot.  If Mid wasn’t right behind him this would be over in an instant.  Smart?  Probably not.  But much more of this and he’d be too tired to pick apart their numbers!  “I get it!  Meals’re hard to come by.  But we aren’t a bloody meal!”  This was getting him nowhere.  There were just too many of the damned things for him to deal with alone while protecting Mid.  He needed Ramuh.  “Aright, Mid.  Stay as far back as—”

        “Dad!”  Mid’s scream cut him off and in an instant the game had changed.  Slimy little bastards had snuck around behind him, between him and Mid.  And of course he just had to feel a tremor that could only be a Gigas.

        “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to get between a man and his daughter,” he growled.  One or two goblins actually recoiled slightly, seeming to sense the danger in his tone.  But what could he do?  He needed to get to Mid before that Gigas could get to him.  He wouldn’t be able to fight with her in his arms.  “Damned shortcuts,” he muttered, tensing the muscles in his legs to pounce.  If he could get to Mid, they could make a break for it.  That was the best plan he had at the moment.  They’d lose them in the marshes. 

        Cid moved a single inch before a cold chill swept past him too fast for his eyes to track.  He barely registered someone stopping behind the goblins and grabbing Mid then that cold chill swept around again.  Half the goblins were frozen statues in the wake of that chill.  Cid wasn’t going to waste the opportunity and blasted the lot of them now that Mid was clear.  He should have been panicking at the sight of someone grabbing his daughter, but if that was what he thought it was, he was suddenly feeling very good about this situation.

        “I’ve got her!” a man’s voice shouted.  No sooner than he had, another figure came barreling into the Gigas with force enough to shove it backward several feet.  It wasn’t someone Cid expected, but the flames around the man were certainly familiar enough.  And honestly?  It was enough to keep him staring at something he never thought he’d see.

        Sir Flame threw his weight into his axe, throwing that Gigas to the ground easy as a ragdoll.  Then with the momentum of the swing, he spun around, throwing streaks of flame off the weapon into the rest of the hoard.  Normally Cid would have helped but he was too dumbstruck.  And because he was dumbstruck, he watched Sir Ice run back around just as the Gigas regained its footing.  The beast swung its club and with practiced ease Sir Ice danced around the club, throwing his hand out to freeze it as he had the goblins around Mid, the club anyone in their right mind would fear now frozen uselessly to the ground.  It was a quick battle with those two here.  Didn’t even look at Cid.  Flash of flame around the might of an axe, glint of ice with the precision of the sword.  These two were well trained in both weapon and magic.  And most definitely not Bearers.  Rosaria had changed a lot in the last seven years according to rumor, but they weren’t quite there just yet.  Sir Flame threw a bolt into the creature’s face, Sir Ice drew his sword around the belly, and the Gigas fell for good. 

        Cid wasn’t often impressed by random strangers doing a kindness, but he was quite impressed with these two.  They must really like them.  No way they got abilities like this otherwise.  He smiled to himself.  Good.  That was good.  Having people you trust is important.  Having run into these two Shields, or he assumed they were Shields, was a stroke of luck on this rather rotten day.  Should make for easier explanations, less convincing, maybe even less waiting if he was lucky.  He was very tired of the waiting.  Seven years biding his time to leave Waloed while constantly keeping one eye going each direction for any trace that Barnabas knew what had happened.  He was eager to be among friendly faces again.

        “Are you well?” Sir Ice asked as he sheathed his sword.

        “I owe you a big one, Sir?”

        “Tyler.  This is Sir Wade.”  Sir Flame, Wade, nodded with a small wave.

        “Dada!” Mid shouted.  Cid scooped her up mid-run.  Somehow she was still all smiles.  Girl was a wonder.  “That was fun!  Can we go again?” she asked Sir Tyler. 

        “Perhaps later, little one,” he answered with a smile.  “I apologize for the abrupt intervention.  I hope I did not alarm you too terribly, absconding with your daughter in such a fashion.”

        “Well, I admit it was startling, but no worries.”  He put Mid down and reached into his pocket for a cigar.  Eyeing the two in front of him from beneath his brow, he decided now was the time for a bit of a gamble.  He lit the cigar without his crystal.  “Can’t thank you enough for getting to her when I couldn’t.  Bastards had me in a right mess.”  Neither of them said anything about the cigar, but he could feel their eyes on him.

        “What are you doing out here, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sir Wade asked.  “There’s nothing out here for miles.  Still can’t believe we happened to be close enough to render aid.”

        “Little shortcut of mine.  Not quite as safe as I remembered it being.  On our way to Rosalith to find an old friend of mine.  Couple of friends, if I’m lucky.”  And today was very much beginning to feel like his lucky day.  “This might be a touch rude, but those are some very special abilities the two of you have.”

        “As I am sure you are aware,” Sir Tyler began, a slight suspicion crossing his expression, “Rosaria is now a land of ice as well as flame.  Lady Shiva was willing to extend her Blessing alongside the Phoenix.”

        “Aye, so I’ve heard.”  Cid took a long drag off his cigar.  “I can see you’ve got Shiva’s Blessing.  Mighty impressive, that.  Never seen the like, and believe me, I’ve seen plenty.  Thing is,”  He took another drag and then gestured to Sir Wade with his cigar.  Oh, he was having way too much fun with this.  “those aren’t the flames of the Phoenix.”  Neither Shield even flinched save the barest twitch in Sir Wade’s eye that Cid only caught because he was looking for it.  They were very good at this ruse.  Probably the first time anyone’s called them out on it. 

        “And what other flames would they be?” Sir Wade asked calmly. 

        “You’re certainly no Bearer.  Brand aside, never seen a Bearer with flames that strong.  Suppose the ruse of it being the Blessing of the Phoenix works most of the time, right?  Hard to call you out on somethin’ no one knows exists.”  Cid flicked his cigar into a puddle, preparing for the dramatic reveal.  “You know what I can’t settle on, though?  Am I more surprised that Ifrit is capable of bestowing a Blessing or that Clive chose to extend it?  Lad’s certainly grown in either case.”  Watching those two highly trained Shields slowly realize exactly what he was saying and struggle to keep their composure was truly the highlight of Cid’s day thus far.

        “What did you say your name was, stranger?” Sir Wade asked, voice now quivering ever so slightly.  Couldn’t blame him.  Rosaria had kept a close lid on their third Dominant.  No one should have known.    

        “I didn’t.  Not that it’s much of a secret, mind.  You lads just never asked.  The little one is my daughter, Midadol.”

        “It’s Mid!” she protested.

        “Decided she didn’t like the name I gave her,” he sighed dramatically.  Alright, maybe he was milking it just a bit.  “My name’s Cidolfus Telamon.  Lord Commander of Waloed if your feeling formal.  Former Lord Commander if you want to get it right.  But for you, it’s just Cid.  Friends of Clive and Jill’s are friends of mine.”

        “By the flames, what did he do?” Sir Tyler murmured, staring unblinkingly.  Sir Wade, however, said nothing.  Only raised a single hand to the sky and unleashed a bolt of fire straight upward.

            “Watch you sides!” Clive barked to Jote, who was about to get overrun by another spider.  She’d absolutely insisted she take this battle on herself.  While he didn’t agree, thinking she was pushing herself too hard too fast, he allowed it under the condition that he would intervene if he even thought she was in danger.  Already a trickle of aether gathered in his palm while he waited to see how she would react to the threat.  Torgal growled at the spiders, also ready to rush in, but obeyed his master’s orders to stay for the time being.

        Six months he’d been training her.  Six months since the Guardians of the Flame ganged up on him to make sure he agreed to it.  How they’d managed to keep their training with “their little sister” a secret from him all this time he had no idea.  Apparently he was the only one not to notice.  Jill had given Jote advice on various things from time to time and it was impossible to keep the bruises, welts, and fatigue from Joshua.  His brother had protested when he first learned of it, but had been supportive since then.  This was her wish, he claimed.  There was nothing Clive could argue against her after that.  Although, he had the distinct impression that deep down, Joshua still did not like what she did, or more specifically, what she intended to do with her training.  He wasn’t sure Joshua himself recognized it.  Call it a brother’s instinct which he kept to himself.  He couldn’t deny Jote’s aptitude with nigh everything she set her mind to, though.  She was already a skilled swordswoman before he took over her training.  Now, there were few in the bailey who would wish to battle her.  Clive was beginning to think he’d pushed her too hard himself. 

        “I’m finished, my lord.”  She was panting from the effort, but she’d been as good as her word.  Three spiders lay in pieces around her and Clive had not helped.  She was fast and light on her feet; most opponents never saw her coming.  These spiders certainly hadn’t.  Couldn’t allow her to get too complacent, though.  When her back was turned, he flicked a small bit of stone her direction.  It wouldn’t hurt more than a sting if she missed it.  She didn’t.  With a quick flick of her wrist she shoved the magic to the side with the flat of her sword, barely turning enough to see where she swung.  “You will need do much better than that, my lord.”

        “Just keeping you alert.  And how many times must I tell you to call me by name?  You are my brother’s closest friend.  The formality is unnecessary.”

        “As I have said, when I have completed my training with you, then perhaps I may.  It would be disrespectful of me to not give you the honor as my teacher.”  Clive sighed, pulling his leg up onto the rock beneath him to lean on his knee.  They’d had this conversation a few times and it always played out the same way.  It just felt odd.  She’d adjusted quickly to Joshua’s given name and then to Jill’s as well.  But she staunchly refused to use his, at least where he could hear.  He’d overheard her using it to others.  He wasn’t really sure why it bothered him; it just did.

        “You should take a moment,” he said rather than continue the attempt.  “You’ve been at this much of the day.”  Jote nodded, sheathing her sword and taking the waterskin he offered.

        “Thank you for training me.”

        “You know you need not thank me every time, right?”  This, too, had become a habit.  After nearly every spar or hunt, she would thank him for some reason.

        “I know.  Yet this arrangement has placed you in an awkward position.  The First Shield training a random girl with no standing.  I know you get looks and questions you must deflect.  The Guardians deflected easily enough, but someone of your standing should not be training anyone.  I consider myself fortunate you make time for me.”  That was new.  Although he often told her it wasn’t necessary, she never explained why she thanked him.  There was no real problem, however.  Sure, he got the occasional odd look or question, but it did not bother him in the slightest.

        “I think you overestimate the hindrance those rare moments create.  You forget.  I am rather fond of the free will of humanity.”  He smirked and glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

        “Perhaps,” she answered, still somewhat downcast.  “It may be easy to deflect for the moment.  There will come a point, however, when I must explain why I too guard the Phoenix.  Others will not understand.”

        “I would not worry for it.  Not so long as you remember that you do not guard the Phoenix.  My brother needs a friend, not an attendant.  That is all you need concern yourself with.  I’ve a feeling that is what put you in this position.”

        “What do you mean?”  Clive had been thinking about this off and on for years now.  Why did Jote have those memories?  If they could really be called such.  Habits, more like.  Those few long-gone habits were the singular thing that propelled her into their sphere.  Without that, she never would have looked deeper into what she saw.  She likely would have stayed in the infirmary and never tried to do more.  Not a bad thing, but Clive was inclined to think this life suited her.  So why her of all people?  Why was she placed in their path?  The answer he came up with was as simple as could be.

        “They may have been your habits, but I think they were not your memories.  You gained only knowledge of Joshua.  I suspect that you were important enough to him, more important than even he realized, that his own memories of everything you did for him slipped into your mind from the Phoenix.  Joshua’s heart was reaching for you and the Phoenix answered.”  A sentimental outlook perhaps, but Clive rather liked it.  Jote, too, smiled at the thought.

        “It is a lovely sentiment, I admit.  Although if Joshua is correct, it seems unlikely.”  Clive scoffed loudly in pure frustration.  If he wished anything over the last seven years had faded, it would be the fact that Joshua was still convinced this was all his doing, that Clive himself had unleashed the Phoenix.  Sometimes his theories were absolutely wild, wild enough that even he admitted they were utter nonsense.  He seemed to be desperate to understand.  Clive, however, was content in the knowledge that, while bizarre, it was born of love and a desire to protect.  He didn’t need to know more.  Some days, when Joshua ranted about increasingly impossible things he thought Clive could possibly have done, he really didn’t want to know more.

        “In that, I beg you stop listening to my brother.  I had no hand in breaking time.”  Jote actually chuckled.

        “Would it truly matter so much if you did?  You already killed a god.”

        “Tell me something, Jote.  Were it true that I had a hand in breaking time or in giving the Phoenix free will or any of the other ideas Joshua has postulated, what would that make me?”  This was a conversation he’d had once out of sheer annoyance with Jill on a day Joshua had figuratively poked him one time too many.  Jill was understanding and let him rant about it before calming him, but the thought remained.

        “I am not sure I follow, my lord.”

        “Would I still be just a man if I had the ability to do something like that?  Would I still be just another Dominant?  What kind of person could be so powerful?  I am well aware of my unique abilities and from where they come.  I do not know what it would make me to be more than that, to perhaps have literally only the limitations of my own mind.”

        “Do you fear you might be a monster?”

        “You’ve yet to see Ifrit, but many would already consider me that.  In truth, I’ve been a monster already and moved past it.  No, what I fear is that I might be exactly what Ultima thought I was.  A man who thought himself a god.”  He didn’t mind explaining to Jote just what his fear in this was.  She felt more sister than stranger to him now.  They’d gotten along well enough over the years.  Having bonded somewhat over training, she was someone he felt he could confide in, and he hoped she felt she could do the same though she rarely did.

        “Hm.  Have you spoken to Joshua about it?”

        “No.  He seems to enjoy the speculation, oddly enough.”  He saw her try to hide a smile.  “What?”  A glint shimmered in her eye when she turned around, a glint very similar to Joshua’s when he was happy or amused. 

        “I think he enjoys teasing you.  I can only speculate, but he lost too much time with you.  Time you both now have aplenty.  I think your discomfort makes it all the more appealing.”

        “Told you this, did—”  Their amused banter was cut short when he spotted the flash of flame in the sky in the direction he knew Wade and Tyler were going.

        “Did you see that, my lord?” Jote asked, already rising from the rock with a hand her sword.

        “I did.  We should get there quickly.”

        Wade calling for help was unheard of.  Long had they gone out on hunts like this together, even more frequently now that Jote was training under him.  They’d created that call for help just in case they were separated but never had they made use of it.  Both of them were strong and confident with their Blessings now.  What aid they could possibly need worried him greatly.  Enough that he was checking Eikonic fragments like a pre-battle checklist as they ran through the marshes.  A pack of wasps tried to slow them down along the way and Jote instinctively ducked behind him, allowing him to fry them all with one sweep mid-stride.  This wasn’t a moment for combat training.

        “Find cover until we understand the situation, Jote.”

        “Understood, my lord.”  That was one of her strongest traits as a budding warrior, her ability to transition from one frame of mind to another in an instant.  It had impressed him since their first day in the bailey.

        The marshes passed by less quickly than Clive would have liked.  The mud slowed their progress at times, the water forced them to take a longer route at others.  Such was the drawback of the Rosarian landscape.  As they approached where he was fairly certain the signal had come from, he heard what he thought was someone humming.  It almost sounded like….a child?  The fear and worry that had only grown on their way flickered in the face of confusion.  Why would there be a child out here?  And why would a pair of Shields need help with it?  Jote ducked behind a boulder, hand on sword hilt, ready to leap at the first sign of need.  Clive, disregarding personal safety completely, ran around the rocky outcrop with sword already in hand.

        “Wade!  Tyler!  Are you—”  Clive skidded to a stop as the rest of his sentence clung to his throat.

        Clive Rosfield, the man who could wield more aether than any other living being, who could call upon every Eikon at will, who had slain a god and liberated Valisthea from the curse of magic only to return to face it all again.  After everything he’d seen in his life, he didn’t think it possible to be surprised by much of anything anymore.  Not truly surprised.  Not like this.  Not utterly and truly stunned.  He couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t blink.  What he saw before him might vanish if he did.  Mouth hanging open in the midst of a sentence already forgotten, his sword fell from numb fingers, mind no longer issuing the most basic commands to his body.

        Cid.  In Rosaria.  Cid was here in Rosaria.  He knew since his second day here that he would find the man one day and he knew that it would be a difficult reunion when he did.  There was still so much emotion thinking of the person who saved his life in more ways than one.  But he shouldn’t be here.  What could he possibly be doing in Rosaria of all places?  True, Clive had never asked when he left Waloed, but there was no reason for him to be here.  No reason for Wade to have called for him.  No reason save one.  Why could Clive not find a single spark within him to react?  Because deep down, he already knew.

        “If I’d known it was you your man was signaling, I’d have just shouted,” Cid said calmly.  Despite the calm, there was a current of warm fondness flowing through his eyes.  Cid knew him.  He was in Rosaria because he remembered.  Deep down Clive already knew, the moment he’d set eyes on the man he’d known even if he couldn’t quite put it into words.  The only reason Cid Telamon would have to be here now was if he knew precisely where his allies would be.  Gravity seemed to take hold at the realization he finally managed to finish in his mind and his knees gave out, leaving him kneeling heavily in the soggy marsh.

        “What the hell did I do?”  Suddenly Joshua’s ravings seemed less mad.

        Cid hadn’t known who Sir Wade was signaling.  Only that it was clearly a signal.  He rightly guessed seconds before Clive bust into their little clearing.  The lad was almost unrecognizable.  A full-grown man still clinging to a few boyish features, black hair somewhat tamed but not quite.  And no brand.  That was a bonus.  It was good to see him.  Cid had sort of assumed that Clive knew what he did, though, and would expect him eventually.  Half a glance at the complete incomprehension and shock on his face told a very different story.  No one had ever looked at him like a ghost come to visit before.  Add that to the list of things he didn’t need to see.  Uncomfortable as it was, though, Cid could hardly speak either.  Clive had changed everything in so short a time.  The man who found life and meaning in the midst of slavery and death.  After everything he went through, and Cid knew beyond doubt that he didn’t know even a quarter of it, he made it sound so obvious that they should be fighting for life.  It flipped Cid’s world upside down in the span of a fortnight.  Never had he dared dream to fight for life.  He would always be incredibly grateful to Clive for that. 

        “What the hell did I do?” he heard Clive whisper.  On his knees in the muck, he stared at him as if in a trance.  And honestly?  Cid couldn’t blame him.  They both knew where their friendship ended.  This reunion was pretty emotional.  A lot more emotional than Cid normally was.  And if Clive didn’t know he was here at all, well, that would be a shock.  It would be a lie if he said he hadn’t been looking forward to this, emotional or not.  Now that it was here, he was having a difficult time keep a tear from his eye.

        “Sod it,” he muttered and jogged the few steps toward Clive.  Reaching down, he yanked him to standing by the arm and hugged him tight, letting that errant tear slip through.  If there was ever a time for tears, it would be this.  How often did you get to reunite with a friend after your own death?  The move jolted Clive back to functioning, apparently, as he was quick to return the hug tight enough to pop Cid’s back.  It would have been amusing if they weren’t both crying.  And if anyone dared say anything about it, Cid would shock them good!  They remained frozen that way for a long minute, reality overwhelming them both, when a questioning whine broke them apart.  “Torgal.  Good to see you again, too.”  He scratched the hound behind the ears, Torgal panting happily.

        “What are you doing here, Cid?” Clive asked, thought processes finally returning.  Cid huffed a laugh.

        “Why, you’re handsome mug, o’course.”

        “And let me guess, another one of your less-than-secret shortcuts?” he asked, gesturing to the piles of goblin corpses with some exasperation.

        “Bah, that?”  Cid waved dismissively behind him.  “Just a minor misunderstanding.”

        “I still think these shortcuts are nothing but trouble waiting to happen.”

        “What’s it going to do?  Kill me?  Took a god to take me down last time.”  Cid laughed.  Clive smiled.  But the smile faded somewhat and he wrapped Cid up in another bone crushing hug.

        “Founder, it’s good to see you, Cid.”

        “You too, Clive.  Don’t know how you did it, but you, too.”  Clive jerked away rather suddenly, looking down to where Mid was tugging on his leather jerkin.

        “Are you a friend of Dada’s?”  Clive knelt down to her level with a soft smile, one Cid was surprised he could muster.  Could count on one hand the number of times he smiled back then.

        “I am.  Your Dad saved my life a long time ago.”  Mid nodded seriously then thrust her hand out absolutely more forcefully than necessary.  She’d been mimicking some of his own motions lately and that might have been one of them.

        “I’m Mid.  A friend of Dad’s is a friend of mine.”  That was definitely one of his.  Clive glanced up at him, amused, before extending his own hand and taking hers very carefully.

        “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Mid.  My name is Clive.”

        “I’d have been here long ago if not for Mid,” Cid told him.  “Couldn’t leaver her behind even if I was risking everything with Barnabas so close.”

        “By the flames, Cid, how long has it been?”

        “Let’s see, seven years now?  Give or take.”

        “Seven…”  Clive’s eyes bulged.  “Cid, I’m so sorry.  I never imagined there would be anyone else.”

        “No apologizin’.  It was rough at times, I’ll admit, but it gave me some time to make a few plans.”  Including one he wasn’t sure how to explain at the moment.  Wasn’t sure how Clive would take it.  They’d just cross that bridge when they came to it.

        “Right.  We have much to discuss.”  Clive stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly.  A minute later, four chocobos approached.  “Jote, would you mind riding with me?”

        “Of course not, my lord.”  Cid was ashamed to say that he hadn’t noticed the young woman now standing with the Shields.

        “And who is this sweet thing that I imagine is more dangerous than she looks?”

        “Ah, manners, of course.  This is Jote.  I’ve been training her in the sword.  Jote, Cid.” 

        “Charmed,” Cid drawled, noting the girl’s eyes going wide.

        “The Cid, my lord?”

        “Ah, heard of me, have you?”

        “Let’s just say we were given the luxury of being more open about things than you,” Clive explained.

        “True enough, I suppose.  Couldn’t be too careful with the mad king breathing down my neck.  Last thing I needed was Barnabas and his god finding out I knew something.”

        “He loves his collection of Dominants.  I am surprised you were ever able to effect your escape.”  Cid’s mind went back to the night he ran.  It wasn’t as smooth as he’d have liked.

        “I can’t say it wasn’t exciting…”

Chapter Text

Some Time Ago…

        Everything was ready.  Mid was with Otto, whom Cid had been lucky enough to run into earlier than last time.  Their friendship was easy enough to rekindle, though Cid was still too late to save his son, unfortunately.  Some pains in this world couldn’t be so readily mended with a little foreknowledge.  What did come naturally with such knowledge was trust.  Trust enough to let his daughter stay with a sailor on shore leave until Cid could collect her.  If he came to collect her.  This he had to do alone.  If this went sour, Mid would still be safe.  Otto promised he would take care of her.  If there was one thing the man’s regret had taught him, sometimes you have to stick your neck out for the people you loved.  He understood what was at stake.  Tonight was the night they left Waloed never to return.  And the night Cid would find out if he’d been able to rescue Benedikta in the process.

        The last seven years, give or take a few months, he’d worked toward that goal.  At the moment he was of two minds on it.  One that he’d done enough and that she’d come with him and one that he needed more time to be sure.  But time was something he couldn’t afford any longer.  Barnabas was getting twitchy about Sanbreque, or more specifically, Bahamut, and that creep Sleipnir was getting too curious in the worst ways.  Last week Cid walked into his office to find Sleipnir rifling through papers on his desk. 

        “Something you need?” Cid had asked as calmly as possible, having no real way of knowing how Sleipnir would react to getting caught with his fingers in the cookie jar.

        “Merely looking into the supply chains for our liege,” Sleipnir had answered.  It was a flimsy answer both knew Cid would not believe.

        They’d sized each other up, both understanding precisely what was happening, and then he left.  Were they a bit younger Cid would have expected him to “accidentally” bump into his shoulder on the way.  What exactly he had hoped to find Cid didn’t know, but he knew it was nothing good.  That warning sense had gotten him out of more than a few situations over the years.  No way he’d ignore it now.  That man made him uncomfortable in the most normal of situations anyway.  There was something just…wrong about him.  Couldn’t quite put his finger on it, never could in all his years there, both this time and the last.  The first time he met Sleipnir Harbard, the first thought that ran through Cid’s mind was that the man felt like he only barely existed.  It was a ridiculous thought, but every once in a while he remembered it and it was just as true now as it was then. 

        Sleezy little bastard.

        Trying his best to look nonchalant, Cid walked through the castle toward Benedikta’s room.  Not many people were still around these days.  Barnabas had already carted them off to Greagor knew where.  Those he hadn’t gotten to, Cid himself had persuaded to leave.  That was probably what tipped them off that something wasn’t quite right.  He’d never be able to live with himself if he just did nothing, though.  Hopefully they were safe somewhere far away from here.  Preferably on Storm if they’d listened to him.  Storm was due for problems, true, but it was a far cry better than Ash right now.

        Whether due to his actions or Barnabas’, Cid only ran into one or two servants on the walk and they paid him no attention.  Each step he took was nerve-wracking.  Funny.  He rather thought this would be easier a second time around.  While he hadn’t spent years planning his exit the last time, he didn’t leave with the army at his back either.  He was prepared as he could be this time.  Guess you couldn’t be ready for this no matter how many times you’d done it.  Palms already sweating inside his gloves, he knocked on Benna’s door.  When she didn’t answer he knocked again.  Waited.  Then let himself in. 

        It wasn’t entirely unusual.  About a year ago they’d started this thing between them.  Cid certainly didn’t know what to call it and she didn’t either.  Sometimes they would wait in the other’s room for however long it took.  Could be they waited with a bottle of wine, could be they waited for quite a bit of kissing.  Never really knew and Cid enjoyed every minute of it.  He rarely initiated.  Didn’t want to take advantage, of course.  Every time he opened the door to find Benna waiting, though, it gave him just a little more hope that she might be alright.  This time when he opened the door, Benedikta was nowhere in sight.  Instead Sleipnir sat with imperiously crossed legs on her bed, watching the door as if he expected Cid to show. 

        “You will not find Benedikta here tonight,” the sleezy little man said smoothly.

        “Noticed that.  Happen to know where I might find her?”  At least he bothered to use her name instead of her Eikon.  Never really knew with him or Barnabas how they would refer to a Dominant and Cid had long given up arguing with them about it.  No matter how hard he tried, they just couldn’t see people in front of them.  Still made him a little angry when they did it even if he wouldn’t say anything.

        “You weigh her down, Cidolfus.  Garuda is destined for glory in the coming world yet you would deny her that destiny.”  Ah, there it was.

        “Benedikta’s a grown lass.  She makes her own decisions, Harbard.  Now where is she?”

        “Why would you deny her?  Why would you deny yourself?  Are you so desperate for creature comforts that you would ignore the world our liege seeks?”  Cid sighed and just barely stopped rolling his eyes.

        “Know what?  I’ll find her myself.”

        “Your interconnected consciousnesses will be your undoing.”  Cid stopped in the doorway.

        “I quite honestly have no idea what you are saying.”  Sleipnir stood behind him.  How did that man make something as simple as rising to his feet make it feel like being stalked by a ceourl?

        “You care for one another, do you not?  You’ve chosen to weave your consciousness with hers, but I wonder if she agrees?  Do you truly know her mind?  Or is her body what you are truly after?”

        “If you’ve a point, make it.”

        “You’ve followed Benedikta as a boy follows a pup.  Oh yes, I have noticed.  Years of watching with a yearning in your eye.  I thought you intended to bed her yet you never did.  And so I wonder what compels you to watch her swaying hips with such interest?  Why would you be in such haste tonight?”

        “What are you, her mother?”  Sleipnir laughed.

        “Merely an escort.  As I am also for you, Ramuh.”

        “An escort for what, exactly?”

        “Why, your glorious destiny, of course.”  Cid glowered at the man.  If he had to endure one more conversation about consciousness and destiny, he might actually kill someone.  Starting with the creep in front of him.  “I see you do not desire my company tonight.  I last saw Benedikta making for the bridge out of Stonhyrr on an errand for our liege.  If you leave quickly I am certain you will catch up with her.”

        Cid left without another word.  Why in the world would she be making for the bridge?  It was getting late, too late to be going somewhere and there was nothing Barnabas would send her out to do at this hour.  Were she still an intelligencer here it would make sense, but that was one promotion that hadn’t happened.  So why would she be heading that direction at all?  Unless something was wrong.  Did she figure him out?  Did she think he was leaving without her?  His steps hurried down the corridors with increased urgency.  Damn that Harbard.  He was trying to get into Cid’s head and damned if he hadn’t done just that.  By the time he reached the outermost courtyard he was almost running, hoping he wouldn’t be too late.  If he missed her now, he would never see her again.  Not until it was too late.  From the corner of his eye he spotted the full moon over the horizon.  It halted his frenzied steps.  The moon was blood red.

        Beware the blood moon.  That is the night which will determine Benna’s fate.  Years later and Cid could still hear Ulfrina tell him that the first time he brought Benedikta to the festival.  Foretelling was not something he believed in; never had, never would.  Except he couldn’t keep the warning from ringing in his ears.  It hit too close to home, regardless of how it had come to him.  The night he chose to leave happened to be the night of a blood moon.  The decisions they both made this night would follow them forever.  This singular time, he didn’t question whether that was true or not.  He knew it was.

        Stay with her, Cidolfus.  He had to find her.  Quickly.  The bridge was within sight on the other side of the courtyard.  But he didn’t go.  Something was telling him this was wrong.  It churned beneath his fears of losing her.  He took a deep breath, looked up to the moon once more, and worked to calm his mind.

        Too easy.  It had been far too easy to get Sleipnir to spill where Benna was.  He wasn’t some great benefactor.  Whatever else Sleipnir might be, he was the right-hand of the mad king and worked solely for his benefit.  By extension, he worked for the king’s god.  Nothing they did was without purpose.  They wanted Cid on the bridge.  Which meant that was precisely where he would not be going.  With renewed vigor, he darted back inside.

        Barnabas Tharmr stood at a window of the throne room looking out over the Mothercrystal towering high above Stonhyrr.  This situation with Cidolfus and Benedikta would soon grow beyond his control if it was not handled with care.  Perhaps he had allowed them to grow too close for too long.  It was apparent Cidolfus did what he could to keep Benedikta away from him any time they were in the castle.  It happened often enough to make one almost suspicious of what precisely Cidolfus thought to do.  Pitiable human desires.  Were he merely to give in to those desires Barnabas would not need to intervene.  At least they were predictable.  A shame. 

        “All is in place, my liege.  I’ve spoken to Benedikta and Cidolfus has been diverted to the bridge.”  Barnabas hummed his acknowledgement.  The threads of consciousness binding Cidolfus and Benedikta had become far too intertwined in recent months.  They must be severed even if that meant losing Ramuh for the time being to his Dominant’s lack of cooperation.  Those threads united would create trouble later.  Cidolfus had ever been difficult to control.  This should bring him to heel. 

        “The new world is approaching.  These dalliances will only hinder the arrival of the Almighty.”

        “Cidolfus has been increasingly unsettled, my liege.  Do you not fear losing him?”

        “Should that happen, I have faith he will return.  Ever has he been stubborn, but now that I see his desires, that rebellion will be quelled.”  Turning away from the Mothercrystal somewhat reluctantly, Barnabas settled into his throne, relaxing back into it.  Even from here he had a view of Drake’s Spine towering over Stonhyrr.  It helped bring a sense of calm to his mind.  “Benedikta will see Cidolfus running from the castle into the night.  With a few simple words to support it, base human understanding will convince her of his abandonment.  She will forever be within our grasp then, waiting for the arrival of Mythos.  Reluctant to leave her, Cidolfus will return, eager to be nearby despite her continual shunning of his advances.  And therefore he also will be in place.  We need only sever her ties to control them both.”

        “If I may say, I believe once she is reigned in, Benedikta would be most useful for our intelligencers both here and abroad.”

        “Yes, Cidolfus has trained her well, if nothing else.  Such a promotion would only serve to sever their connection further.  Benedikta desires power more than anything.  To stand in her rightful place above all at the pinnacle of the world, the masses bowing before the Dominant they once despised.  Pride is easily turned to loyalty.  She will be forever eager to serve those who have given her that power.  And since Cidolfus will not wish to leave her side, he will also remain.  Lust can also be a powerful motivator.”

        “And so she who desires power and loyalty will be forced to see the unfaithfulness of her one-time savior.  And the girl he adopted?”  Barnabas waved a hand dismissively. 

        “Irrelevant.  It’s just a child.  Fate can decide what to do.”  He reached for his chalice, sipping the chilled wine left from hours earlier.  It tasted like ash in his mouth as it always did.  Long ago had he lost the satisfaction of creature comforts.  His body still betrayed him in his wants and needs, but he gained little of meaning from any of it.  Not since the day he gave himself over to the lord.  A necessary sacrifice to bring the realm back into the light.  “We stand on the cliff, Sleipnir.  This is but the first step of many in this complicated dance to find its edge.  We cannot plummet to its dark embrace too soon lest we leave the world behind us.  I can see it.  For the first time I can see the edge approaching.”

        “It will not be long, my liege.  Once this connection has been broken, we may turn our attention to Bahamut in earnest.”

        “Bahamut will not be so easy to overcome.  He is a strong adversary with an iron-clad duty to his country.  Brute force will not be enough to sway him.”

        “Perhaps it would be best to begin with Titan, then.  That may open avenues.  But forgive me, I should go see to Benedikta.  She is undoubtedly heartbroken by now.”

        “No.  I will go.  Now is the time to offer her everything she has long sought.”

        Benedikta shivered in the cool breeze off the ocean.  Why in the world would his majesty want her up here at this hour?  Everyone knew the guards rarely made rounds in this section of the castle.  Even if they did, she was no guard.  What could she do but follow his orders, though?  Sleipnir did not deliver orders from anyone but their liege.  Frustrated, cold, and tired, she leaned against the crenelations.  She’d rather be inside.  Maybe waiting on Cid in his room.  He would warm her up.  Perhaps she still could have him do just that when this bizarre task had finished.  Perhaps this would be the night she chose boldness over caution.  She smiled, watching the flickering lights lining the bridge away from Stonhyrr.  As bored as she was, her imagination did plenty to entertain her.  Just imagining his lips at her neck, breathlessly whispering her name in her ear as she snuck a hand beneath his shirt.  Oh, now she was shivering for a very different reason.

        Nowhere in the world did she feel as safe as in those quiet moments alone in his room after Mid was asleep.  They could talk until morning about nothing or fall asleep in the midst of passionate kisses or laugh like children once the wine was emptied or simply read quietly within arm’s reach.  It didn’t matter to her.  The safety she felt in his presence had been dragging her back to his rooms more and more lately.  She didn’t want to think about what it might mean.  If she thought about it, it was real and she would have to act on it.  Everything would change after that.  Cid teased her about being as wild as her wind, but the truth was change scared her.  She wished she could be as truly free as her wind, passing through the world unfettered and unbothered, touching all yet never remaining still. 

        Sighing, she turned her gaze from the bridge to the moon high above.  As much as she loved her time with Cid, she feared it would end.  Most of all she feared it should end.  There was always some small guilt every time she left his room in the morning.  This needed to stop before it got out of hand.  She was taking advantage of him and his kindness.  She kept telling herself she needed to stop seeking him out before he told her to stop.  It would be easier on them both that way.  Afraid it would stop, afraid it would continue.  Afraid of change.  Benedikta couldn’t decide what was worse.  The moon sat high in the sky, a blood red moon she’d only seen once.  Clouds rolled in, occasionally obscuring the moon behind it as they drifted across the sky.  A storm was approaching.  It matched the currents of her mood at the moment.  Being up here alone with only her thoughts was no fun.  That alone might make this some kind of punishment.

        “Benedikta.”  She whirled at the sound of her name, lingering thoughts of Cid pulling a blush to her cheeks that she was very glad his majesty would not be able to see in the dim light.

        “Your majesty,” she said with bowed head.  “What can I do for you?”

        “It is good I found you.  I have discovered something you should know.”

        “Oh?” 

        “It is about Cidolfus.  The reason I asked you keep watch here above the bridge was for him.  I fear he means to betray us.”  There it was.  The change she so feared hit as suddenly as she knew it would, and harder than a blow to the stomach.

        “What?”

        “It seems he means to leave by cover of night, across this very bridge.  Have you seen him pass?” 

        “No, I have not,” she murmured through a stunned daze.  Cid was leaving?  He was…abandoning her?  After everything?  “Why would he leave?”

        “Who can truly know men’s hearts?  Perhaps he has grown weary of present company.”  The way the king eyed her made it quite clear he was speaking of her in particular.  What if he was right?  What if she had taken advantage too often?  He’d practically told her this was coming just a week ago. 

        They sat on his sofa drinking some Rosarian cider he’d managed to smuggle into the castle without anyone knowing.  He was so relaxed and at ease with her legs resting across his lap.  It was a perfect moment of tranquility.  Of normality.  Cid asked her where she’d like to go if she could go anywhere.  She hadn’t known what to say.  Everywhere?  Nowhere?  Anywhere he was?  Eventually she settled on Dhalmekia simply because it was far away.

        “Never was much for the sands.  Or the heat.  Too much for my delicate skin.”  He laughed when she moved her heel just enough to jostle him, smile on her face. 

        “Where would you go?”

        “I’m thinking wherever I got this cider from.”

        “Rosaria, then?”

        “Aye.  Got a friend there I ought to pay a visit anyway.  It’s long overdue.”

        That had to be it.  He was simply going to see his friend.  Still she looked over the edge of the crenelations, searching for his figure rushing into the night.  If he was simply going to meet a friend, the dark of night was not when anyone sane would leave. 

        “Why have me keep watch like this?  You could stop him.”

        “The Lord Commander is free to leave as he wishes, is he not?  Surely you would not keep him chained like a prized animal?  Only here for your personal amusement?”  No, she wouldn’t do that to him and they both knew it.  “I understand this is not an enviable position for you to be in, Benedikta, and I would not burden you were it not necessary.  I could not simply tell the guards and soldiers their Commander was to betray them, now could I?”  That, too, she knew was true.  Telling the watch, the army, and anyone else that the Lord Commander was leaving them behind, that their third Dominant was betraying their trust, would only cause chaos. 

        “I see,” she whispered.  She could not stop Cid from leaving but maybe she could at least convince him not to.  Or something.  “Allow me the chance to convince him otherwise, your majesty,” she asked somberly, already finding her wings within Garuda’s aether.  “Betrayal need not be inevitable.”

        “I fear it will do little good, but do what you—”  The door crashed open, the bang of wood against stone reverberating through the air.

        “Benna!  Bloody hell, you are one tough woman to find.”  Cid leaned on his knees, catching his breath.

        “Cid?” 

        “Alright, might need to lay off the cigars,” he panted, regaining his stature.  The smirk he wore when looking at her was the same as ever.  But that smirk disappeared entirely the moment he laid eyes on the king.  “Your majesty.”  Suddenly Benedikta didn’t know what she was standing in the middle of.  If looks could kill, the king would already be dead and she had no idea what Cid could possibly have to be so angry about. 

        “Cidolfus.  What an unexpected interruption.”  The king’s look never changed.  It rarely did, really.  He was always calm.  Uncannily so.  But there was something in his posture that put Benedikta on edge.  Cid, too, it seemed, as he stepped between her and the king, arm across her protectively.

        “Oh, I suspect it is unexpected.”

        “Cid,” she ventured before anything else happened.  He snapped to the sound of her voice, eyes softening.  The difference was jarring.  “He said you were leaving.  Is that true?”  His green eyes slipped for just a moment to fear.  Fear she’d never seen there before.  Cid was never afraid of anything.

        “Aye,” he admitted.  He reached for her but stopped, hand falling back to his side.  Probably for the best.  She wasn’t sure she wanted him touching her at the moment.  “Don’t know how he found out, but aye.  That’s why I was looking for you.”

        “Saying goodbye, Cidolfus?” the king crooned.  “You’ve become sentimental.”  Cid’s expression pinched and steeled as he turned his attention back to the king, one finger pointing at him in warning.

        “I’ll thank you to stay out of this.  Bad enough you have to be here in the first place.” 

        “I am only telling Benedikta what you would not.”

        “Shut it, Barnabas.  I’m not interested in your lies.”  Cid turned back to her, this time taking her by both shoulders gently, if urgently.  “I was looking for you, Benna, because I want you to come with me.  Please, come with me.”

        “See?  Betrayal it is.”  Cid didn’t comment on the king’s statement.  He searched her eyes, begging her to believe him. 

        “Why would you leave?” she whispered.  Who was telling her the truth?  Who could she believe?  Why did everything have to change? 

        “Lots of reasons.  A big part being you.  I can’t take Garuda away, Benna.  But I can give you a place that’s yours.  A place where you can choose who you want to be.  Where no one gives a chocobo’s feather that you carry Garuda.  You use your Eikon as you see fit.  If that’s not at all, then so be it.  Remember what you used to say?  That you wanted to be free?  I want that for you, too.  The choice is as far as I can go.  I need you to take that last step yourself.”

        She was surprised Cid remembered that.  Garuda was the bane of her existence when she awoke.  It nearly got her branded and killed a dozen times over before someone finally realized what they were dealing with.  That was a bloody lesson.  She didn’t want to be controlled or coerced any longer.  She just wanted to be herself.  How could Cid give that to her?  Where in Valisthea could they possibly go where that would be real?  Surely it wasn’t possible.  That had been a dream meant to die a long time ago, a childish fantasy that could never survive reality. 

        “Your betrayal is deeper than I knew.”  The king drew their attention to him through sheer force of aether.  A pull they couldn’t risk not paying attention to.  His legendary sword was not yet in hand, but it would be with the wrong word.  “You seek to weaken our nation by taking a second Dominant along with you?  Do not think this a chivalrous offer.  There can be no coincidence you seek to abscond with her after I appointed her to the intelligencers just this afternoon.”

        “You did no such thing,” Cid snapped. 

        “Why would I lie about it?  She shows a tremendous amount of talent for this line of work.  It is clear to me the kind of control you seek to hold over someone you presumably care about.  You would deny her a place and purpose, deny her glory.  Are you truly so jealous of my favor, Cidolfus, that you must plunge Benedikta into the throes of hopeless fantasy?”

        “Barnabas, you can take your favor and hold it where the sun don’t shine.  Better yet, shove it up your god’s arse.  He’s the only thing you actually care about anyway.”  Benedikta’s head was reeling.  Cid refused to let go of her arm while he threw insults at the king.  She’d never seen this side of him before.  He was so angry and she didn’t understand why. 

        “Your deflection does you no credit.  Insult the Almighty as you wish yet you have declined to answer my questions.  Does that not speak of guilt?  Why do you not say the true reason why you would rip Benedikta away from everything she deserves?  You cling to her like your property.  Is that it, then?  Is she naught but a toy for you?”  Cid jumped and loosened his grip with a mumbled apology, but he didn’t take his eyes off of the king.

        “I won’t waste my breath trying to explain it to you.  You don’t have the capacity to understand.”

        “I see I have struck true.  To think the great Warden of Thunder would be but a whimper in a larger stage.  Benedikta, you have your answers.  Your role as the head of our intelligencers awaits you, as does the power and respect you are due.  Garuda will be the most feared and respected woman in the Twins.  You know where you need to be.  Come.”

        She didn’t.  She had no idea.  She was standing at a crossroads only she could see with no idea which path to choose.  Everyone told stories about crossroads in life but she never expected to know when she stood upon one.  It was supposed to be a metaphor.  Who did she pick?  The king that would give her power?  Or the man that would give her a home?  Who was lying to her?  Why would Cid not answer the king?  Why was he so angry?  He was normally far too calm for a few words to rile him.  Everyone told stories about crossroads.  They never said how to know what to choose.

        “If you think I’m going to allow that,” Cid growled at the king, “you have a great deal to learn.  It doesn’t have to be with me, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Benna stay here alone with the mad king who is determined to feed our Eikons to his disgusting god for the sake of a new world and his place in it then throw us away like chocobos past their prime!  I love her too much to leave her to that fate.”

        Just like that, everything changed.  One of those paths crumbled to dust in her mind.  Cid loved her.  He said that.  She felt like such an idiot for not seeing it before.  The lingering gazes made sense.  The gifts simply because he thought of her.  Choosing a wine she liked that she knew he hated.  The pendant around her neck, the one he’d called the promise for a better life.  Benedikta didn’t want to let that go.  Not that or any of the nights they’d spent together.  She wanted more of them.  A lifetime’s worth, if he’d let her.

        But the king wouldn’t let them go so easily.  Cid alone perhaps, though perhaps not after he so angrily insulted the king’s god.  When the shock of that unintentional confession passed and she looked at the men in front of her, lightning crackled angrily around Cid’s arm and the king already had Odin’s sword in hand.  He could use that to do any number of horrible things.  She’d once seen him use it to slice only the ligaments in a man’s legs to keep him from running.  That was precisely what he would do now.  If she didn’t do something, Cid was going to get hurt or worse.  All those years ago, Cid had stepped in to save her when he didn’t have to.  He took her to festivals and made sure she always had anything she could possibly need.  It was her turn to repay that.  Sliding around him, she stood firmly between Cid and the king, forcing an angry glint into her eye.

        “He was right,” she ground out.  Great Greagor, she prayed she was a decent actress.  “You were going to take me away from everything he had to offer.  Everything I wanted.”  Her throat tightened at the look of betrayal on Cid’s face. 

        “Benna, don’t…”  His voice cracked.

        “Why, Cidolfus?  Why would you betray us all?”  The winds of Garuda swept around her feet, binding Cid up in them and pushing him towards the edge of the battlements.  The king would only stay his blade if he believed she was doing it herself.  It was the only idea she had.  Hopefully Cid would forgive her for it later.  Hopefully the king fell for it.

        “Don’t you see what he’s trying to do?  Entice you with titles and false praise just to keep you exactly where he wants you!”

        “So I would be a fool to listen to someone who tells me I’ve a talent for something.  Is that it?  Is there truly such shame in using a talent?”  Cid’s eyes went wide with a panic she didn’t understand.  She was careful not to hurt him with her wind, but the way he looked at her…  It was like he was seeing something else.

        “Please don’t do this,” he begged her.  “That bastard’s promises are nothing but empty lies which will lead only to your end.”  Benedikta hated doing this to him.  It only strengthened her resolve.  She never, ever wanted to see him so afraid and heartbroken again.  She would see to it that he wasn’t.  Angling him toward a missing crenelation, she worked to naturally put her back to the king.

        “Garuda,” the king called.  Dammit.  “Ramuh is still of use.  Try not to kill him.”  There it was again.  Their Eikons.  She’d noticed the king’s tendency to sometimes call them by the names of their Eikons, but she’d always pushed it aside as an odd trait he’d developed being around so many of them.  After this evening, she began to wonder if there were not more to it.  Could Cid have been onto something when he said the king wanted only their Eikons?  Right now, it made her skin crawl.  Cid never called her Garuda.  Not unless he was plainly teasing her.  How could she fail to see that sooner?

        “Don’t worry,” she said sweetly, holding Cid’s gaze as she dropped the game.  She smiled, hoping he could see the difference.  Hoping the king wouldn’t catch on until too late.  “I’ll always catch him.”

        Embrace the change, she thought to herself.  Cid will be there to catch her.  Just as she would catch him now.  Without looking back, she took hold of Cid’s collar, and threw them both off the side of the castle.

        There was absolutely no time for Cid to process what the hell was happening to him.  One moment he’s being shoved backward by an angry Benedikta, then he was falling to his death, and before he could come to terms with that and try to prime, he was on Garuda’s back, sailing through the air.

        “I told you I would catch you,” Benedikta said, sounding smug.

        “Don’t suppose you’d let me off at the bridge and at least give me a chance of outrunning Odin, would you?”  Benna laughed.

        “I will not.  Have you not realized?”  Apparently he had not.  When he didn’t answer, Garuda’s head craned back to look at him.  He couldn’t see it in the Eikon, but he could imagine Benna’s raised eyebrow and mocking smirk.  “Take me away, Cid.”  Cid had always thought himself quick on the uptake.  Until that moment.  He was still trying to figure it out when she shouted at him to hold on tight and a streak of magenta energy flew past them.  The ride got a little bumpy after that.

        Sometimes in life, you know a thing to be true.  Like Cid knew Benedikta was the Warden of Wind.  It came naturally to her.  It simply was.  And then sometimes that simple knowledge doesn’t quite explain the reality of the situation.  He’d seen Garuda a couple of times.  He’d never seen her fly like this.  If there was any way Ramuh could have kept up, he’d have primed a long time ago just to stop this insanity.  Barnabas continued hurling dark energy toward them with that damned sword of his.  Benedikta swerved around each one.  She’d dart straight up into the air, then practically freefall half the way back down.  Spinning to one side and then the other.  Turning and spinning and climbing and falling and anything she could imagine in between until Cid didn’t even know which way was up anymore and he had to bury his face in her feathers just to keep the nausea at bay.  She flew so fast he was starting to black out from the change in atmosphere.  It was all he could do to keep hold of the feathers beneath him.

        Odin stood no chance.  Or Barnabas.  Whoever.  Cid wasn’t looking back to find out.  Benna flew like a woman possessed.  Like someone who had absolute control of the sky.  Not a single shot from the cursed sword came even close to hitting them, and he took a lot of shots.  Cid lost count after eleven, but that was not the last, he knew.  Flying like this, it was a wonder that Clive had ever defeated her.  Although she hadn’t exactly been in her right mind, either.  Finally the shots faded.  Benedikta flew a bit longer to be sure, then got close enough to the ground for Cid to jump off. 

        Cid stumbled when his feet hit the ground, knees colliding with the hard dirt when his legs turned to jelly beneath him.  Air just did not want to stay in his lungs, whether that was because of the thinner air he’d just been breathing or because of the terrified shouting he may or may not have been doing, he didn’t know.  He gasped and coughed so hard he could see stars and it took a minute to realize Benna was kneeling beside him, rubbing a comforting hand up and down his back.

        “Remind me of this the next time I say Ramuh can fly,” he choked out through the fit.  “Whatever he does is not that.” 

        Benna laughed, flashing him the most beautiful smile he could imagine.  Her sparkling eyes, sparkling like he’d never seen, had him transfixed.  It was almost a blessing when he coughed once more and had to tear himself away from it.  Hand on his chest, she helped him sit up and then positioned them to lean against the trunk of an enormous tree Cid had been too distracted to realize was sheltering them from the first drops of a storm.  Normally it would be he who held her close, but she made sure it was the other way round.  She felt protective.  Like she dared anyone to get too close to him.  Not one to complain, he rested the back of his head against the front of her shoulder, one of her arms keeping him close and the other reaching for his hand.

        “Didn’t know you could fly like that,” he commented, breath finally normalizing.

        “I was particularly motivated.”  She laced her fingers through his.  “I felt it, Cid,” she murmured after a pause.  “Freedom.  The sky was endless.  And mine.  I could have gone anywhere.  I could have taken you to Rosaria myself.  But do you know what I kept thinking?”  Cid hummed more than spoke his response.  “He can’t have you.  The king, Odin, they won’t lay a finger on you.  And I could swear Garuda felt faster for it.”

        “Wasn’t exactly the perfect escape I had in mind, I’ll admit.”

        “This truly was planned then?”

        “Aye.  The leaving part, anyway.  Known that for years.  Already got Mid to a safe place.  Just needed to convince you to leave with me.”

        “You sound so desperate,” she scoffed, though he knew it was a defense mechanism.

        “I was.  Didn’t want to leave you here alone.”  Not again. 

        “Cid?” 

        “Hm?”  He could feel her heart beating faster at the thought of whatever it was she wanted to say.  Somewhat appropriately, the breeze picked up, bringing with it a distant peal of thunder.  Maybe it was because of what they were both wardens of, but the atmosphere was strangely comforting.

        “Did you meant it?” she whispered.  “What you said to the king?”  He let out a long breath.

        “I meant every word.  But which part specifically are you asking about?”  Admittedly, exactly what he said was a little jumbled from the heat of the moment.  Did he say something he shouldn’t have?  Hopefully not.

        “You said you wouldn’t leave me there for his god.  Because you…”  Cid squeezed her hand.

        “Ah.  That part.  Not how I planned on admitting that, if I ever did.  Guess it’s out of the bag now.  Small wonder no one ever noticed sooner.” 

        That part, he definitely hadn’t meant to say out loud.  All through their… meetings?  Arrangement?  Whatever it was.  All through this, he’d done his best not to put pressure on her, knowing that at least some of his attraction was to someone she no longer was.  It surprised him that attraction carried over.  Healthy or no, he’d always been taken with her spirit and ferocity in anything she decided to undertake.  She pursued her goals relentlessly.  So it surprised him that this version of Benna held his heart even tighter.  That ferocity was there, but it was controlled, limited to precisely where she aimed it.  She had a mind that he never knew she possessed.  She might not understand the specifics of engineering, but she understood basic concepts enough to make suggestions that would set his mind flying through options.  She would listen to him go on for hours about an engine with a smile on her face.  He would never tell her, though.  It was too loaded with many other things.

        “I’m sorry.”  A thousand things she could have said in this moment.  That wasn’t one he wanted to hear.  Despite the apology, she leaned her cheek against his head.

        “For what?”

        “I hurt you.  I said awful things and I saw each one strike you as a slap.”  Cid chuckled, relieved that was all it was.

        “You saved me from my own mouth.  I sure as hell didn’t have a plan after antagonizing the mighty Odin.  Always held to the notion that life’s too short for perfect plans.  Sometimes, you get bit by it.”  Leaning up and away from her somewhat reluctantly, he turned around to face Benna.  She looked away, still dwelling on those hurtful words.  Of course it hurt to hear.  That pain was nothing compared to the realization she meant none of it.  Unable to bear that look any longer, he slid his finger beneath her chin and tilted her head toward him. “And sometimes you’ve got a fierce little harpy to pull your arse out of the fire.”

        “Is that what you say of all the girls you supposedly love?” she asked coyly, trace of a smirk ghosting across her lips.  “Where are your manners?”

        “Manners, is it?” he teased, moving his hand from chin to cheek, threading his fingers through her blonde hair.  He leaned in close, close enough that her breath fanned across his lips.  Not helping the restraint he was trying to show.  “Then what should I call a woman so fierce she stood up to Odin?  So smart she found the problem with an engine I couldn’t see?  So beautiful I haven’t so much as looked at another woman since the day we met?  What should I say to the woman I couldn’t bear to leave behind?”

        “You could start by telling me you love me,” she whispered.  Instead he closed the short gap to press his lips to hers in a remarkably chaste kiss, all things considered.  With all the adrenaline running through him, he wanted to throw her to the ground, embrace the coming storm, and claim her as his own.  But this wasn’t the time for that.

        “I love you, Benna.  Always have, always will.”

        “I l—”  Cid quickly cut her off with his thumb pressed gently to her mouth.

        “But you cannot say such a thing.  Not yet.  There are things I need to tell you and it could change everything.”  After he’d saved her.  That’s what he’d always promised himself.  He’d tell her everything after he saved her.  Now he had to make good on that promise.  Benna threaded her arms around his neck, further tempting his adrenaline-fueled desires.

        “Later.  Tonight?  Just kiss me like you mean it, Cidolfus.”     

Chapter Text

        The four chocobos plodded through the marshes towards the road which would lead them to Rosalith.  Mid rode with Tyler, having developed a liking for him after he saved her from goblins.  Jote rode with Wade just to afford Clive and Cid some privacy.  Clive was grateful for the chance to catch up.  He needed to thank her for the opportunity later.  Except neither he nor Cid had said anything for a long time.  Clive was reeling with a thousand things he wanted to say or ask or comment on and he couldn’t decide on any one of them.  Each time he opened his mouth to speak, some other topic seemed more important.  What do you say to a dead man walking?  What do you say to someone you never thought you could possibly meet again?  True, he'd always intended to seek him out.  But the thought that it might be the person he knew was laughable!

        “So,” Cid finally said after miles of riding without a word.

        “So.”

        “Not exactly what I expected it to be, this little reunion of ours.  Little…”

        “Much,” Clive finished when Cid trailed off for want of a word.  “It’s a bit much.”

        “Aye.”

        “I’ve no idea where to even begin.”

        “And plenty that shouldn’t be said out on the road, right?”

        “Probably not.”

        “Well.  What say we stick to some basics, then?  You know what’s happened, don’t you?  Seven years and I’ve only had an inkling.”

        “You mean your sudden return to the world?” Clive snarked.  Cid laughed and nodded.

        “One way of putting it.”

        “In part.  A few details elude us.”  A few more than yesterday, he noted wryly.  Cid’s mere presence meant this was so much bigger than he expected.  If the Phoenix found a way to bring Cid back, it wasn’t out of the question that Dion would be here as well.  This changed everything.

        “It was you, wasn’t it?  Can’t imagine anyone else with the power to pull it off, if you are who I think you are.”  Clive cast a questioning glance at his friend.

        “Just how much do you know?  You seemed to know Ultima when he appeared in Drake’s Head.”

        “Name’s Ultima, then?  Didn’t know that.  I could tell it was Barnabas’ god.  Man’s gone on about him often enough.  Pulled out a statue once like it proved it all.  Never being the religious type, I thought he was losing it.  There was one thing he said I’d forgotten about until I met you.  Someone who could render Dominants obsolete.  I had my suspicions, but never said anything.  Didn’t think you could handle it at the moment.”  Clive scrunched his face in reluctant agreement.  His grasp on life at that point was tenuous enough as it was.  If he learned then what he knew now, it might well have been too much.

        “I’m sorry you had to spend so long on Tharmr’s doorstep.”  He didn’t bother hiding his disdain of the Last King.  If he never saw the man again it would be too soon.

        “Sounds like you finally met his majesty,” Cid answered with equal disdain.  “Still a nutter?”

        “You have no idea.”

        “Well, his full madness that I knew of hasn’t taken him just yet.  Not that he ever had far to go.  Not surprised he found you eventually.”

        “Would that he regretted it, but he got exactly what he wanted.”  Clive held out a hand to conjure a small amount of dark magic in his palm.  Cid sucked in a breath, though Clive didn’t look at him.  So many years later and he still hated everything about that night he fought Odin.

        “Great Greagor, his too?”

        “I have them all, Cid,” he said quietly.  Cid whistled in disbelief.  But ever the one to run with whatever was before him, he didn’t linger on it.

        “You had a hard road after my heroic exit, didn’t you lad?”  Smirking a little, Clive only nodded.  “Alright, new question.  If you found out so much, was I right about the Mothercrystals?”

        “Half right.  The truth is a bit more complicated, but suffice to say the Mothercrystals are doing nothing beneficial.  By the time it was over, we eradicated magic completely.  Or…  I think I did.”

        “Seems a pretty big thing to be unsure about.”

        “I, uh, I died from aether exposure in the process.  Or was about to.  Then woke up here.  So I don’t know if it worked or not.”

        “You don’t do anything by halves, do you?” Cid laughed. 

        Apparently not… he thought with a distinct frown Cid either didn’t see or didn’t comment on.

        “You will feel right at home in our university,” Clive commented just to change the subject.  “Mid, too, when she’s ready.”

        “You took care of her, right?  After?”  Clive scoffed.

        “Founder, no.  She took care of us.  We never would have survived without her inventions.”

        “Good.  That’s good to know.”

        “We…moved the hideaway into the Bennumere.”  Cid didn’t need to know about the attack just yet, right?  “She figured out ways for us to live in the middle of a Blighted lake with relative ease.  For the deadlands, anyway.  I think it helped with the grief.  And Cid?  She built that ship.”

        “What?”

        “Called it the Enterprise.  It was magnificent.  And she saved my life with it more than once.”

        “It worked?”  Cid glanced back towards his daughter in utter amazement, seeing her full potential for the first time.  It was hard to imagine the little girl talking fast as a charging bighorn would one day be the most brilliant engineer of their era.  The talking speed would never fade, though, and they both knew it.

        “I hope you choose to stay.  She will do well here.”

        “Well,” Cid began with a slight, awkward cough, “you know how I feel about plans.”

        “Means of growing old and complacent if I remember rightly,” Clive chuckled.

        “Meaning I haven’t planned out much beyond getting here.”  Cid shifted in the saddle, suddenly looking uncomfortable.  Was he concerned about the reception or the ramifications of four Dominants in one place? 

        “If you are concerned for the reception you may receive, I think you have naught to fear.  My father will like as not throw a party simply to have met you.”  Elwin had mentioned a couple times just how grateful he was to Cid for his part in saving both Jill and Clive, saying he would have appreciated the opportunity to give his thanks himself.  An impossible desire, they’d all assumed. 

        “Concerned?  Me?  What have I got to be concerned about?”  That was…odd.  Cid wasn’t usually such a terrible liar.  His eyes darted towards the side of the road like he expected something to be there and shifted in his saddle once more to look behind them.  “And there’s the bridge,” he muttered.

        “Cid, are you—”

        A ping of aether, the likes of which could only be a nearby Dominant, closed in on them quickly, cutting off his statement and pulling him out of the saddle with hand on sword hilt.  Something about that aether felt slightly familiar.  While he knew who it wasn’t, he couldn’t quite put a finger on who it was.  Whoever it was, it made his chest ache dully, a muted version of a memory he couldn’t quite grasp.  This wasn’t the time to think about that.  Wade and Tyler caught up with them, feeling the nearby aether as well.

        “The three of you keep Mid safe.”  Cid called to him, but he ignored it.  “This isn’t something you—”

        “Clive!  Stop.  It’s fine.”  Pulling his attention back toward Cid, he found him standing without care in front of the chocobos.  “I know who it is.  I may not have gotten ‘round to mentioning something.”

        Just past Cid, several feet down the road, the wind kicked up as a woman wearing close-fitted black garments landed gracefully from the sky.  Her short blonde hair, currently streaked with green, barely moved despite the motion.  Those wings on her back provided her perfect control of the airspace around her.  Clive sucked in a breath, grabbing his sword hilt more firmly and sinking into a stance.  Benedikta Harman.  That was why that felt familiar.  And why his chest ached in memory.  The first Eikon he took had been incredibly painful, searing into his flesh like a brand directly upon his lungs.  She must have followed them.  Benedikta dropped her semi-prime, then marched up to Cid, who met her part-way.

        “I have been looking everywhere for you, Cidolfus!”  Her voice was low, tense, and dangerous.  Not a woman Clive would want to approach right now. 

        “Calm down, you bloody harpy,” Cid barked at her, ever the one to do the opposite of what Clive thought would keep him alive.  “How was I to know there’d be a pack of goblins in Rosaria?”

        “Did I ask for the excuses of a volatile polearm?” she shouted back.  “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I saw that?  I trusted you to stay out of trouble while I got a lay of the land, and you just dance your merry way into a nest of goblins?!  Chirada and I have been searching every inch of these damned swamps looking for a trace of your sorry backside, all the while thinking you’d fried that gigas from the inside as it made you its lunch!”  Anger spilling over, she shoved Cid hard on the shoulder, almost certainly putting some of her wind into the strike.  “What if something happened to you?  Do you think this friend of yours is going to believe me without you?”  She turned away in frustration, running her fingers through her hair.

        Clive couldn’t hear what Cid said to her, suddenly soft words lost to the wind.  But he did see the gentle way he reached for her.  The way she fell into that touch.  And most of all, the way she melted into his arms when he pulled her close.  That small look of contentment looked so similar to Jill when Clive held her after a long and stressful day.  That many years in Waloed with the man trying to tear the world apart?  Of course it wasn’t only for Mid.  He should have realized sooner.  There were too many ways this could still be a problem, but for the moment, he waved off the others, feeling like they were all intruding on something private.  He could extend a little patience to figure this out before rash action.  After a few minutes, the pair returned, Cid keeping a hand on Benedikta’s back while she herself remained a safe few feet away from Clive.

        “Benedikta Harman, this is Clive Rosfield.  Clive, Benedikta.”

        “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Rosfield,” she said more meekly than Clive would have expected given the heat of her arrival.  “Cid tells me you may be somewhat uncomfortable to see me.  I suppose I did not help in appearing so suddenly, semi-primed and shouting.” 

        She looked so different from what he remembered.  Had he been in his right mind himself when last they met, he would have felt sorry for her.  Misplaced loyalty, desperately trying to find her place in the world.  He could sympathize with that, in a way.  Cid never did explain their relationship, but it was clear he had hurt her badly.  That was probably what drove her to Barnabas in the first place.  Now that hatred was gone.  She may have shouted and called him names, but there was no anger in it, not like she once held.  It was anger born of worry and relief. 

        “Cid, are you sure about this?”  She clearly knew at least something, though it was unclear how far that knowledge extended.  Benedikta was an intelligencer.  She played with people’s emotions to get what she wanted.  Clive knew that much about her.  If any of that were still true…  He didn’t want to think she’d just used Cid’s guilt against him, but it was a real possibility.

        “She’s with me,” Cid confirmed.  “I’m certain of it.  Benna stood up to Barnabas himself to get me out of the castle.”  Benedikta squirmed a little under the scrutiny, a faint blush tinting her cheeks.  There must be a more interesting story there. 

        Clive never had anything against Benedikta personally.  She was a roadblock on his path of vengeance.  Granted, he couldn’t help but be a little irritated by it when he found out that had indeed been Joshua at Caer Norvent.  So many things could have been so different if she hadn’t stood in his way that night.  He couldn’t help the frustrated huff that escaped him to think that Joshua might not have imprisoned Ultima if they’d found one another at the Caer instead of so many years later.  But even that he couldn’t hold against Benedikta.  Of the three Dominants he never could befriend, she was the single one that he could honestly say was purely by the situation.  He even felt bad about killing her later, though he knew he hadn’t had a choice.  It was more about Ifrit being out of control and likely going far beyond what was necessary.

        “Alright,” he finally decided.  “If Cid trusts you, I will too.”  He walked forward several steps to extend his hand to her.  Benedikta looked at his outstretched hand, then up at Cid, confusion pulling her brows together.

        “That easily?” she murmured.

        “I admit I have some reservations considering your connection to Barnabas Tharmr.  However, the truth of it is that while he could show up at any time, he won’t until I’ve taken every other Eikon.”

        “And that’s not happening this time, is it Clive?” Cid asked, mostly for Benedikta’s reassurance.  Clearly she knew quite a bit.  She wasn’t even surprised at Clive’s statement.

        “No.”  He didn’t want to think about what might happen if he tried to take an Eikon again.  Would it strengthen the Eikon?  Would it be too much to carry?  Could he even do it?  That was a line he would not be crossing until forced, and hopefully not even then. 

        “Right…”  Benedikta extended her hand cautiously, stopping just before she met his.  “This isn’t enough to take Garuda, is it?” she asked nervously.

        “Clive was close enough to take Ramuh dozens of times and it never happened until I let it,” Cid said, urging her forward.  With that knowledge, she finally took Clive’s hand.

        “I look forward to seeing Rosalith, Lord Rosfield.”

        “Clive.”  She smiled and grasped his hand more firmly.

        “Benna.”

        Rosalith was still quite some distance to travel.  As the sun began to set, the now significantly larger party found a secluded spot to camp.  They built their fire, hunted for their dinner, and spoke excitedly about anything and everything.  Cid told the story of their flight from Stonhyrr, obviously embellishing Benna’s role in the matter much to her embarrassment.  He also explained that he had told Benna everything he knew, much to Clive’s surprise.  To fill in a few of the gaps, Clive told him of taking up his mantle and becoming the outlaw Cid had always imagined himself, though he made sure to wait until Mid was asleep first.  She did not need to hear of her father’s death in an alternate timeline.  He could have explained that Jill and Joshua were here too, but he chose to keep that a surprise for the moment, though he suspected Cid had pieced together Jill’s involvement already.  Perhaps Joshua’s occasional mischief was starting to rub off.  Instead, he told them about Tharmr and his loyalties after tales of “Cid the Outlaw” so they would know exactly what they had escaped.

        “What a bloody menace,” Cid complained after hearing of Tharmr’s actions. 

        “I know what you said, Cid,” Benna said quietly, “but I was not prepared to hear it from another.  He really was collecting us for his god?”

        “He and that new lord commander he appointed had a hand in far too many shattering events,” Clive confirmed.  “Although, since the commander is an aether construct of Odin, I’m not certain I can truly count him as a separate person.”  He shuddered slightly at the thought of that.  Though he’d only met the man twice, he gave Clive chills both times, including the entire time they fought.

        “Aether construct?”  Cid asked.  “Guess that explains why I continually felt like he only partially existed.”

        “Eikons can do such a thing?” Tyler chimed in. 

        “Even I have aether constructs I can summon,” Benna explained, “but they are not intelligent.  They act as I direct them.  To have something like Sleipnir is unheard of.”

        “Good thing,” Cid agreed.  “Enough about the mad king.  Behemoth at the fire and I want to know.  How did you two convince this stubborn fool and the other stubborn fool to grant you Blessings?”  The question was directed straight at Wade and Tyler, but he did jab a finger in Clive’s direction.  Wade laughed.

        “It wasn’t easy.  It was years before I had the nerve to bring it up to anyone but Tyler and the lord commander.”

        “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing,” Clive added.  “Who asks for magic?”

        “I’m still trying to decide if I’m more surprised Ifrit was capable of it or you allowed it,” Cid teased.

        “Is there a reason Ifrit was part of the question?” Benna asked.  “Aside from being an Eikon to end all Eikons.”

        “Well, last I knew Clive couldn’t even prime.”

        “Really?”  Benna looked at him with surprise.  Clive tried not to be annoyed by it.  He knew well that he was different from all expectations. 

        “Ifrit was stubborn when he first showed himself.  It was some time before I could prime at will.”

        “Do you know why?”  Clive shrugged.

        “Not specifically.  It could be the massive amount of aether he requires or the fact that I had no idea I was a Dominant until much later than most.”

        “Or any other reason, knowing you,” Cid quipped.  Clive just shrugged one shoulder in partial agreement.  He could rule out few things most days.  “Anyway, we were talking about Blessings, were we not?”

        “We were.  It took weeks before I finally gave in to the request,” Clive answered. 

        “We did back you into a corner by getting the Lord Commander on our side,” Wade agreed with some small regret. 

        “You know what a Blessing could do to you, do you not?” Benna asked, equal parts wary and concerned. 

        “You speak of the curse,” Tyler answered.  “We are aware.  Even if we did not already know of it, Jill was adamant we fully understand before she agreed.  And Clive told us much of life as a Branded knowing if we were captured, there would be no hope against such a fate.”

        “And yet still you pressed for this?”

        “We did.”

        “There came a time when Ultima did something that brought forth aether floods and akashic in droves,” Clive explained.  “They wanted to be of more help when it likely happens again.  And when we free Bearers, they will already have experience fighting with both magic and sword.  Training will go more smoothly.”

        “Thinking ten steps ahead, aren’t you Clive?” Cid commented, proud grin toying with the corners of his lips. 

        “You have to when you made a name as an outlaw with a bounty on your head from every nation.”

        “How long was that, then?”

        “Five years following Drake’s Head.  It took that long to get us reestablished and settled well enough to think about the other Mothercyrstals.”

        “Reestablished?” Cid asked.  Clive winced.  He didn’t want to dampen their mood, but he hadn’t caught the word in time.  “Keeping things from me now?  I get the feeling it wasn’t my death that tore things apart.”  By this point all of their friends had heard the full story and it was nigh impossible for them not to show that they understood, only giving Cid more fuel for his assumptions.

        “It can wait.”  His eyes flicked to Benna.  When he didn’t explain their relocation the first time it was because he didn’t want to tell Cid so many had died.  Now he hesitated because there was no way to explain why without speaking of her death.  Clive wasn’t sure he would want to hear such things were he in her position.

        “Oh,” the woman in question murmured, shrinking in on herself a bit.  Noticing, Cid turned his attention to her.

        “Benna?”

        “It’s alright, Cid.  I knew this wouldn’t be easy.  I cannot blame him for not trusting me yet.”  Clive stared at her a little confused.  Who said anything about trust?

        “Founder, Cid, what did you tell her?” he murmured.  Ever knowing exactly where he needed to be, Torgal nudged Benna’s arm in search of attention.  A muted whimper and her voice saying fucking dog passed across Clive’s mind making him a bit uneasy.  But Benna smiled and ruffled Torgal’s fur.

        “Who’s a good boy?” she cooed.  Torgal barked softly enough to not wake Mid and Benna ruffled his fur even harder.  She really wasn’t the same person, was she?  Cid nodded an affirmation as if he knew what Clive was thinking, then gestured toward Benna, silently giving him confirmation to continue.

        “Forgive me, Lady Harman,” he said.  She startled at the formality.  “It is not a matter of trust.  Rather, you are, or were, a part of it in an unacceptable way even to us.  I thought it uncouth to speak of your death, considering…” considering I killed you.

        “Considering you killed me?”  Clive’s breath caught but Benna shook her head.  “Cid truly did tell me all he knew.  I gave you no choice, did I?  The cost of a war I do not believe I knew I was fighting.”

        “I’m sorry.”

        “Do not be.  I remember none of this other life, yet I think I would not like that woman.  When Cid told me all of this, I admit to thinking him mad.  Another version of myself that truly lived?  I still struggle with it.”

        “As do we all, I expect,” Jote surprisingly interjected.  She covered her mouth with her fingertips, apparently having not intended to speak, but the statement got nods of agreement from Wade and Tyler nonetheless.

        “I suppose that other person is somewhere within me.  Perhaps I could have been her.  But I am not.  Cid made sure of that.  So whatever you wish to say of me, know that though I struggle with accepting much of this, I consider us different people entirely.”

        “I did not know you held such wisdom,” Clive commented.  He greatly respected her approach to this madhouse in which they lived. 

        “I suspect I did not when last we met.”  Somehow that made him feel more guilty for not controlling Ifrit better.  Cid didn’t let him dwell on it, though, pointedly clearing his throat.

        “Now that’s done, care to tell me what happened?”  Clive exhaled loudly.  Founder, he didn’t want to do this.  Having heard this before, Jote and Wade walked off to find more firewood, Wade producing a similar orb of light to what Clive and Joshua did.  It was one of the first things they taught him.  Despite her declarations to the contrary, Benna tucked herself in closer to Cid, who pulled her close.

        “Do you remember when Gav and the others returned after…that day?”  Not being able to say it outright still, he nodded towards Benna.  “They couldn’t find her body.  We never figured out what happened.”

        “Best we could guess was animals or aether.  Aye, I remember.”

        “It proved neither.  Later we learned someone had taken it.  I would bet my uncle’s last talent it was Sleipnir on Tharmr’s orders.  They used it to prod Kupka into action.  The loss of the woman he loved set him on a course of half-crazed vengeance.”

        “Ew.  I would really settle for Titan after you?”  Benna’s nose wrinkled looking up at Cid.  “He’s such a fool.  I can see that even from afar.”

        “Can’t say it helps, but I’d guess the attraction was one-sided.  Good for Barnabas to have him on a leash and you would be an attractive offering to keep him there.  I don’t see you reciprocating.  Then again, I may be biased.”  He kissed her hair to prove the point.

        “Reciprocated or not,” Clive continued, “Kupka clearly had very strong feelings.  Problem was, they laid the blame at Cid’s feet and not mine.  He found the hideaway before we returned from Oriflamme.  Primed in the middle of the Deadlands and brought the mountain down.”

        “The crazy bastard…  That shouldn’t even be possible!”

        “Jill and Harpocrates theorized that he must have used his own aether for a short prime to do it.  Short or not, it was guaranteed to start the curse, if it had not already begun.”

        “Hm.  Giving into the curse for your love is a little romantic.”  Benna flinched at the unamused look Cid gave her.  “I’m sorry.  I find it hard to remember this was all real for you when you speak of faceless people in a hideaway I never saw.”  Cid stared a moment longer then sighed.

        “Can’t blame you for that.  They’re alive now anyway.  So.  Titan destroys the hideaway and you move it to the Bennumere.”  Clive nodded.

        “We all felt safer able to see in every direction.  The Fallen airship we chose was surprisingly hospitable once we fixed it up.”

        “I could see that working…”  Clive huffed a laugh at the obvious wheels already turning in his friend’s mind.

        “Clive,” Tyler said suddenly while Cid got lost in his own imaginings.  “It’s getting late.  You should all get some rest.  Wade and I will take first watch when he returns.”

        “I’ll watch while the two of you rest.  Jote let me do little today anyway.”

        “Be that as it may, it will be a very long day once we arrive in Rosalith.  We have the day free.  You will not be so lucky.”

        “I suppose you’ve a point…”  Introducing Cid to his father and to Joshua was going to be a heavy emotion, of that he was fairly certain.  And that said nothing of Benna.  There was sure to be much talk about her given her history with them.  At some point they would also need to address the possibility of five Dominants in the Duchy and getting some kind of coded message to Dion.  If Cid came back, it was almost guaranteed he did as well.  Now that he thought about it all, his head was swimming with tomorrow’s prospects, even if they didn’t cover it all at once.  “Alright, Tyler.  Point made.  Wake me if anything comes up.”  He stood to arrange himself better for sleeping and clapped a hand on Cid’s shoulder.  “I don’t fully understand how this could happen, but I’m glad you’re here, Cid.”  There was more he wanted to say, more he needed to say, but the words stuck in his throat.  Later, then.  There would be time.

        Hours afterward, Cid woke from his awkward position with a need to stretch his legs.  The Shields were still awake, talking quietly between themselves.  Might as well relieve them.  They spoke for a few minutes about Rosalith while they readied their bedrolls.  Before they turned in, Cid had one more question.

        “He always like this?”  He nodded towards Clive who was sleeping soundly facing away from them, sword within easy reach but not in hand.

        “I don’t follow, my lord,” Wade answered.

        “Trusting,” Cid clarified.  It had taken him a bit to put a name to the change.  The confused looks were answer enough.  “He was the fiercest, most stubborn bastard I’d ever met.  Had to be, to survive a Brand in Sanbreque.  Didn’t trust anyone for much of anything.  Always had to do everything himself.  Took me weeks to realize that beneath it all he still cared about others and he did what he could to help.  Still, wouldn’t let me keep watch until he was too exhausted to stay conscious and even then he only rested as much as he absolutely had to.  Constantly had a hand on that sword, too.  Nothing, not even Torgal and Jill, could get him to loosen his guard in front of others.  But now…  Not only does he listen to your advice, he lets you keep watch.  He trusted you with his Blessing.  Trusted you with what happened.”  It was quiet a moment while the Shields processed what he said.  Probably sounded off to them.  To Cid, it was jarring to see the change.

        “You know of the Night of Flames?” Tyler asked.  Cid nodded.  “We helped stop it.  Because he asked for our aid.”

        Cid scoffed and shook his head, allowing the Shields to lay down for the night.  That one statement answered his question surprisingly well.  Clive really had changed.  After so many years any man would, but the difference was striking.  When that man stood in his solar, lecturing him about the lives he could not ignore, Cid naturally assumed it was atonement he sought.  Most stories of atonement ended the same way: death in place of another.  Now, there was a different kind of fire in the lad.  He was always someone ready to fight for others to live and that hadn’t changed.  But along the way he seemed to have found reasons to acknowledge that his own life mattered too.  Cid smiled and pulled out a cigar.  The best of humanity indeed.

Chapter Text

        Rosalith was incredible.  Benedikta knew Cid had been taking her somewhere special but this wasn’t what she expected.  From the awed look on his face that he was trying to hide, this may be beyond his expectations too.  The city was beautiful, no doubt about it.  But she’d never realized just how little life had been left in and around Stonhyrr until seeing so much life here.  People bustled this way and that, friendly smiles exchanged kind words, someone dropped a basket and another was quick to help her collect the contents.  It didn’t feel like anywhere she’d ever been.  What really struck her were the Bearers.  They were part of the tapestry, not the underside everyone ignored.  They wore real clothes rather than rags.  They spoke and were spoken to.  They even purchased things.  She never would have known they were Bearers were it not for the brand.  Clive insisted they all stop at a candy stall on their way towards the castle.  The only person near that stand was a Bearer.  Clive gave Mid some gil and hoisted her up to make her selection.

        “That one, please!”  Mid thrust her finger toward an obnoxiously colored pink lollipop and held out her gil.  The Bearer took it and handed her the candy.

        “Here you are, lass.”

        “Thank you!”  Clive set Mid down and she scurried back to Cid.

        “Thank you for the patronage, my lord,” the Bearer said to Clive.  He was respectful without the complete deference Benedikta would expect.

        “You needn’t thank me, Marcus.  You know that.  Let me know if you need any more of those Dominion pears.  I will set my uncle to it at once.”

        “Thank you, my lord.  I will.  Give my regards to Lady Warrick, his highness and his grace.”  Clive nodded congenially and made his way back to them.

        “This seems strange to you,” a soft voice beside her commented.  Jote stepped in beside her as they left the stand.

        “It does,” Benna admitted. 

        “Marcus once worked in the castle.  Clive found out he’d a love of making candies in the kitchens when there were spare ingredients and decided to set him up here as an experiment.  With ducal protections there was little any could wisely do against him.  With time, people gave in.  Marcus is quite successful in his own right now, particularly during festival seasons.”

        “Is he free, then?”

        “Not just yet.  Technically speaking he belongs to Clive, though his money is his own.  But that status will most like change soon.”

        Ahead of them Cid was speaking to Clive with growing excitement.  He pointed with exuberance at something that looked like a blacksmith and smiled at what he saw.  It was a good look on him.  Excited engineer spotting technology used instead of magic.  He’d always been terribly excitable over such things, though Benna herself was probably one of the few ever permitted to witness it.  Most found engineering over magic to be an odd pastime, especially for a Dominant.  Maybe here he could be an engineer more often.  Never did he look as light and carefree as when he got to let go of being Lord Commander.  Here, she thought, he could just be Cid.  And that gave her an idea.

        “Would you help me do something, Jote?”  The girl looked surprised but nodded.

        “If I am able.”

        “I want to buy something.  A present.  For Cid.”  How many times had he done just that for her?  She’d never returned the favor.  “Something made without magic.  Sold to me by a Bearer, if possible.  Would you help me do that?”

        “It would be a privilege, Benna.  I believe I may know just the place.”

        After some convincing for the men, Benedikta stole away with Jote.  She’d lied and said something about needing a few odd supplies, having left them in the rush to find Cid yesterday.  Clive, ever the chivalrous one it seemed, tried to tell her that whatever she needed she could get at the castle, but she stubbornly insisted.  Mid also wanted to go shopping.  Benedikta took pity on her and saved her from the menfolk.  Shopping wasn’t her favorite pastime, but it had to be better than old war buddies talking away.  That, Benedikta knew from experience. 

        Jote led them through the streets with ease, occasionally nodding or waving to someone who knew her and pointing out interesting landmarks they passed.  This city continued to baffle Benedikta.  A Duchy ruled by their Dominant (though not at the moment, she learned) that was actively trying to lessen magic.  Lessen magic and equalize those who used it.  And it was working.  Cid had promised her a place to choose, a place she could be herself first.  She had her doubts such a place truly existed yet here she was.  All she had to do now was figure out exactly who Benedikta without Garuda was.  Did she want to make the distinction?  Did she have to?  Suddenly it felt like the world really was open to her and any possibility existed.  What did she want?  It was a little frightening to think about.

        “Are you okay, Benna?” Mid slurred around the lollipop still in her mouth.

        “Fine.  Just fine.  Why do you ask?”  Mid shrugged. 

        “You keep staring at people like they have bugs on ‘em.”  Jote stifled a chuckle but thankfully didn’t comment.

        “Well I…I’ve never seen a place like this,” she half-lied, a little off balance from being called out by a child.  Although she shouldn’t be surprised.  Mid never hesitated to say what she was thinking.

        “Me either,” she said in a surprisingly thoughtful tone quite uncommon for her.  “But I think I’m going to like it here.”

        “Me too, my lovely.  Me too.”

        “Shall we begin here?” Jote asked.  She gestured to the front of a nice looking shop with the white stone walls common here and a red streamer flapping in the wind over a sign that read Laquered Feather.  The windows held trinkets of all kinds from child-sized wolf dolls that looked oddly similar to Torgal to tiny little emblems meant to go on a necklace.  “This is one of the newer shops to abandon magic save in a few key places of their work.  They have exceptional quality, so I cannot fault them for magic in places our technology cannot reach as yet.  Not when they’ve begun paying those who use their magic in those applications and do not overwork them.” 

        Benna nodded her agreement and they entered, a small bell ringing over their heads above the door.  The proprietor was a soft-spoken woman with two long braids and crinkled eyes.  Not a Bearer, but the man with her was.  He was calm and assured out here, so it seemed likely that he ran the day-to-day operations frequently.  The options seemed endless.  While Mid became enamored with a tiny Torgal doll (that had to be the model), Benna and Jote looked through rings, bracelets, ear cuffs, sigils, scarves, gloves.  Jote was right: their quality was amazing.  Nothing stood out to her, though.  Cid’s gifts were always explained as things that made him think of her.  She didn’t get that from these items, amazing though they were.  This should be special, whatever she ultimately decided to buy.  She’d never bought a gift for anyone before.  This was for the man that saved her life.  Who offered her a home after everything she’d done to hurt him in a previous life.  Jote suggested they try another shop and Benedikta nearly agreed until she happened to look over at the Bearer, Eli.  He was fiddling with some kind of misshapen metal, twisting and pulling at it then huffing an exasperated breath when nothing happened.

        “What is that?” she asked, instantly intrigued by it.

        “This thing?”  Eli gestured with the object.  “Bleedin’ pain if you wanna know true.  Specialty of a young lad we ‘ired from some smithing village.  Says if you figure out the puzzle it becomes a wrist cuff.  Ask me, ‘e’s playin’ at somethin’ ‘e en’t tellin’  Never so much as budged it meself.”

        “Do you have another one?”

        “Sure do.”  He pulled out a small tray with seven other puzzles.  Benna immediately knew which one.  A muted silver mound with jagged amethyst lines through it.

        “This one is perfect,” she said excitedly.  It reminded her of Cid and only Cid.  No one else would ever be a fit for this puzzle.  If objects could speak, this one was screaming at her.

        “You sure?  Our lad swears that’s the ‘ardest one ‘e ever made.”  Benedikta’s smile grew wider.

        “Even better.  He’ll figure it out.  I’m certain.”

        “Tell you what.  Thirty gil for the puzzle and five for the Torgal doll.”  Oh.  It was Torgal after all.  Clive’s hound had quite the following.  “Your man’s as good as you say, bring the cuff back in, show me the trick, and I’ll give you fifteen gil back.”

        “Deal.”  Eli enclosed the puzzle cuff in a plain box with a nice string, then started to tie an adorable red ribbon around Mid’s doll.  Benedikta thought it was perfect, but Mid stopped him.

        “Do you have a blue one?  I think he’d like blue.”

        “That is an excellent choice, little miss,” the proprietor said from the corner.  Eli grinned, plucking a deep blue ribbon from the drawer.  “Have you heard the rumors about the lord marquess’ hound?”  Mid excitedly shook her head.  “Some say he’s no hound but a wolf, and an ice wolf at that.  Legend has it ice wolves are friends of Shiva.  And do you know who lives right here in Rosalith?”  Mid shook her head again, hanging on every word.  “Lady Jill Warrick, our very own Shiva.  I think Torgal would be pleased as punch to have a blue ribbon in honor of her.  He’s seen with her as often as the lord marquess, you know.”

        “Really?” 

        “Sure is,” Eli answered, handing her the Torgal doll.

        “Thank you, mister!”  Mid took the doll and hugged him tight while Benna escorted her out of the shop, waving as she left.  Out on the street, she looked down at the box in her hand.  Cid would love this.  Now she just had to decide when to give it to him.  This was something she wanted to give him when they were alone, that much she knew.  So with a smile on her face she put it into the pouch on her hip.

        “You care about him a great deal,” Jote said.

        “I do.  The one constant in my life.  Two, counting Mid.”  Mid smiled brightly at her name, though she paid their conversation little attention.  “Enough about me.  It’s time for the girls to talk.  How do you fit into this, Jote?”  The girl laughed awkwardly.

        “Rather by force, in truth.  Between us, the situation is somewhat more than what Cid thinks it to be.  I believe Clive hides it as repayment for not mentioning you sooner.  As you may have figured out, he is not the only one here to bear knowledge of what was.”  Benna looked over sharply.

        “You too?”  But Jote shook her head calmly.

        “No, not exactly.  I knew a few things I ought not have which, when combined with an innate curiosity, led me to the truth.  Jill returned with Clive as did Joshua, the Phoenix.  And I once served the Phoenix in place of his brother.”

        “I see.  You’ve a dedication, then, to return to his service despite the circumstances.” 

        “Perhaps it was what drew me there once.  Now I would not call it service.  Joshua in particular would be terribly cross if I did.  I train so that I may help him beyond the infirmary, but I do so of my own volition.  He is my friend and I would not see him face the coming storm alone.”  Benedikta noted a familiar softness and reverence when Jote spoke of Joshua, accompanied by the smallest smile on her lips. 

        “He means a great deal to you.”

        “He does.  You will like him when you meet.  He is kind and clever.  Very protective sometimes, forcing me to remind him when it is unnecessary.  Ever has he listened.  While some would think him cruel in those moments, he suffered such loss that I cannot blame him too harshly for his protectiveness.”

        “Cid told me some of what happened.  Being here after falling to Ifrit must have been frightening.”

        “If only it were so simple.”  Jote walked several more feet in pensive silence.  “What Cid never found out was Joshua survived that night.  He lost everyone and everything and by the time he woke, years had passed and there was no changing it.  Then at the end of the world, he died.  Would that I could have been there his first day here to do something.” 

        The tragedy of it all choked up even Benedikta.  What would she do if she woke one day to find everything and everyone she loved gone?  That was a rhetorical question.  Cid had told her exactly what she would do.  The worst part was that she could see that in herself.  If he abandoned her out of the blue even now, she would close herself off forever, never trusting another soul as long as she lived.  It would feel as if nothing had any kind of meaning to her.  It begged the question how this Joshua could become the man Jote claimed him to be after similar circumstances.

        “I don’t know what to say,” she admitted.

        “There is little to say, I think.  The reaction Cid will like as not have I’m sure will be worthwhile, however.  Particularly after he finds it was the Phoenix who brought him back.”  Benedikta gave her a puzzled look.  The way she said that sounded like she separated the Eikon from the Dominant.  “We will explain better later, and more privately,” Jote whispered in answer to her confusion. 

        They continued walking around Rosalith, idly taking their time to reach the castle gates.  Jote was certain Clive would want to introduce Cid first and so she felt little need to rush back.  It gave Benedikta plenty of time to see more of the city, which she was absolutely falling in love with already.  Mid too, by the wonderous look in her eyes.  Several times they stopped just so the child could look at some gadget or machinery with intense, understanding eyes.  With a small nod from Benna, the person running the machinery would explain every part of it and how it worked.  She knew Mid was smart, but not even she had fully understood exactly how smart until Mid demonstrated that she understood every word she was being told.  It astounded more than a few.  On one occasion she dared to make a suggestion on how a particularly finicky gear could possibly run better.  Benna didn’t understand.  Some kind of grease or another she thought.  The man running the crane stared at the child in sheer awe when he realized she was absolutely right.  He immediately ran off to tell everyone he could find that a child had actually solved a problem that had been slowing them down considerably.  Once he left, Mid insisted they move on rather than wait for the praise she expected would be coming.  That girl was more like her father every day.  Brilliant and never wanting a scrap of praise for it. 

        “Sir Clarence!” Jote called as they reached the castle gates.  The man on guard duty, or the Shield Benna came to find they were called, waved enthusiastically.

        “Jote!  ‘Bout time you showed up.  The lord marquess returned some time ago with an unfamiliar face.  Same as you.”  He looked up to Benedikta inquisitively, though not with the suspicion or fear she suddenly realized she constantly expected. 

        “This is Benedikta Harman and Midadol Telamon.”  She gestured to each of them in turn.  Sir Clarence nodded to Benedikta and waved to Mid.  “They are the companions of the man with the lord marquess.”

        “I see, I see.  Well what do you think of our fair city, Lady Harman?”  Still feeling out of sorts without the usual reaction, Benna tried to think of something to say.  How do you speak to someone who does not know you are a Dominant?  It surprised her that it would throw her off this much to approach a castle with none any the wiser.

        “It’s wonderful,” she said succinctly.

        “I like it too,” Mid supplied.  “The engineering needs a little tweaking, though.  Me and Dad’ll fix it right up.”  She beamed in happy expectation at the very taken-aback guard.

        “Cid and his daughter are quite accomplished engineers, or engineer in training,” Jote explained.  “Mid just helped fix a mechanism on a crane on our way here.”

        “Did she now?  Impressive little thing, aren’t you?  And a little Torgal of your own, I see.  You hang onto him and he’ll help you out when you get stuck, alright?” 

        “Yes, sir!”  Mid mocked some bizarre amalgamation of a salute that mixed parts of the Rosarian version she’d been seeing and the Waloeder version she was used to.  Sir Clarence just laughed and saluted right back.

        “I wanted to ask, Sir Clarence.  What are you doing on guard duty?  The Guardians rarely have that task these days.”

        “Bah, it’s nothing.  Mate o’ mine asked me to take a shift for him so he could take a lad out on the town tonight.  Nervous as a jittery spider, he was.  How could I refuse?”

        “Hopefully he is not so nervous as to miss his date.  Well, I should get our guests inside.”

        “You do just that.  Until later, little sister.”  They moved past the guards into the controlled flurry of a castle bailey.  Although the sight was familiar to Benna, she hadn’t seen it much recently.  There weren’t this many people left in Stonhyrr most of the time.         

        “Little sister?” she asked when they were away from the gate. 

        “Part of the force I mentioned earlier.  Joshua wanted to ensure my safety and I was inclined to disagree.  The Guardians of the Flame, a group of Shields directly under Sir Tyler and Sir Wade, agreed to begin training me years ago.  I became the little sister of the group.”

        “But now Clive is training you?”

        “Correct.  He is Joshua’s official protector, the First Shield of Rosaria, and the youngest one on record at that.”

        “I think he had a bit of an advantage, don’t you?” Benna chuckled.  Jote smiled at the joke, but came to a stop to look at her.  A distinct respect radiated from her.

        “One would think, but no.  He was already First Shield before it happened.  I would never dare say this directly to him for fear of losing him in a hole of his own embarrassment, but Clive has a way of making things none would expect look easy as breathing.  I gather he has ever been that way, even before events reset themselves.  So yes, when I was strong enough I sought his tutelage as well.”

        “That must have been an awkward conversation.”

        “Less than I expected.  It helped I had the Guardians aiding me.  Although…”  Jote looked out beside them where Mid was playing with the real Torgal.  Neither Clive nor Cid were around, but the Shields moved around the hound so easily, it seemed likely this was common.  “He will not say it, but I think some part of Joshua would prefer I not put myself in harm’s way like this,” Jote finished softly.  The vulnerability did not last long.  She sucked in a breath, seeming to realize what she had just said, and smiled.  “I apologize.  That was inappropriate.”

        “No, it’s fine.  Some things are worth fighting for, you know.”  It even surprised her such words came out of her mouth, true though it may be.  It seemed so unlike something she would say.  Thinking back to the night they made their grand escape, now that it was over, brought a smile to her face.  She’d found what she would fight for.

        “You know that lesson well, I see.”

        “As do you.”

        “I do.  Joshua has been naught but supportive throughout my training.  I have no reason to think he does not approve.  Yet…”  Something in Jote’s tone, and concerned look as she watched Mid and Torgal, was also familiar to her.  Something she was afraid to discuss outright.  Afraid things will change, afraid they won’t.

        “Could I tell you something I recently learned?  Change is not always a terrible thing.  I nearly lost what I held most dear because I feared change, because I feared what might come next if I looked too hard.  It took an angry Odin for me to realize what mattered.  While I get the feeling you know what matters to you, you don’t know what might come next, do you?”

        “No, I do not.  I do not think he would ever say anything directly, yet still I fear this will all be for naught.  That in the end he will not let me help.  When the day comes for me to stand beside him, will he be able to do it even if it were my choice?  That is what scares me most.”

        “Then do not give him the opportunity to keep you away.  Men do not always know what is best for them until we show it to them.  Joshua does not know everything about you now.  Do not let him assume he does.”  Benedikta could feel her eyes glinting, being able to pass along some small advice to another.  “Some men are stubborn enough that they need to be thrown off the ledge to prove you’ll catch them.”  Jote started at the reference, having heard the tale last night, and hid a small laugh behind her hand.  “I’m sorry,” Benedikta laughed.  “I think speaking of men like this might be a first for me.”

        “Me as well.  I’ve ever felt awkward asking Jill, though I know she would help.”  The doubt cleared from her eyes.  “Thank you, Benna.  This actually helped.  Come, we should join them.”

Meanwhile

        “I hope you don’t mind our academy using some of your designs as a springboard,” Clive said once again.  “Had I known it was possible, I would have asked first.”

        “Stop apologizing,” Cid said once more.  Clive had said that or something similar at least twice before, each time looking like a kicked puppy.  It was a stark contrast to the known and loved lord marquess people waved to every so often.  Lad was just as strange now as he had been, wasn’t he?  “I’m not upset, Clive.  Just…amazed.  You did so much in so little time.”

        “Don’t be fooled.  Little of this change extends beyond Rosalith.  Port Isolde is coming along slowly, but there were too many old views there from even older houses.  My uncle has his hands full.”

        “Still not satisfied with what you’ve got, are you?”

        “I suppose it is significantly more progress than the hideaway.”  Clive actually smirked at that, the shadow of uncertainty in his own advancement fading for the moment.

        “Helps to have an archduke on your side.” 

        If someone had told Cid that he was about to see a dream he’d never dared to dream come true, of course he’d laugh at them and call them daft.  Clive took everything they had ever talked about and moved it forward in ways Cid never thought about.  That was before time reverting.  This was…this was…  Well it didn’t seem real, that was for damn sure.  It seemed a fantasy, a story someone was telling him in the midst of some fevered hallucination.  But it was real.  Clive had done so much for them all.  Bearers here were well on their way to being free, to choosing their own lives.  It was hard to believe despite the proof being everywhere.  It was also a lot to take in, especially coming straight from Waloed of all places. 

        “Might I ask you about Benna?” Clive asked carefully, clearly trying not to ruffle feathers.

        “What do you want to know?” 

        “You clearly trust her and I trust you.  I do not believe you would succumb to the wiles I know she once possessed.  It is just difficult to see her as someone other than the woman I met.”

        “Is there a question in there?”

        “I suppose the question would be is she the same person?  Has she truly changed so much?  I know what you’ve said and what I’ve seen.  And I truly do intend to get to know her myself.  But such a difference is baffling to me.”

        “I told you how we got out of Stonhyrr.  That should tell you something, shouldn’t it?”

        “It does, or I hope it does.  I just hope your affection does not blind you.”  Cid stopped in the middle of the street, grasping Clive’s shoulder to spin him around.  He just caught Clive’s wince.  “I apologize.  I should not have said that.”  Cid wanted to agree, but he could also understand. 

        “No,” he sighed, “can’t blame you for the question.  You haven’t been with her the last seven years to see the change.  I made sure from the day I got here that things would turn out differently.  I kept her contact with Barnabas to a minimum, I took her out of the castle and showed her the people of the world, I did everything I could to convince her that she didn’t need to rule the world; she just needed to be part of it.  There was no way to know if it worked until the night I left.  The anger she held and the fear she hid, those things couldn’t be fixed overnight.  It took time.  So yes, I am sure of her.  I hope you will be too once you get know her.”

        Clive nodded and they continued walking in silence for a while.  No, he couldn’t blame Clive for questioning the arrangement.  Although Cid had a feeling none of that was what he actually was intending to ask.  Truth be told, this was easier to answer.  Were he to ask what they were to each other, Cid didn’t have a ready answer.  He loved her.  He loved her so much.  They never spoke of that after the night of their escape.  He’d told her she couldn’t, not yet.  And once he told her the truth, she closed herself off for days, saying she needed to process what she’d heard.  Made sense.  Gave him a little hope that she didn’t outright leave.  But she never touched that line again aside from tucking herself under his arm last night.  It was starting to worry him that the truth really was too much.  That this was all too weird.  All he wanted for her was a life of her own choosing.  Here she could do that.  Whatever happened next, he would be happy with that.

        “I am sorry,” Clive muttered after walking for several blocks.  “I do not mean to be so distrusting.  I just never expected any of this.”

        “I know.  Me either, lad.  I thought about reaching out so many times, but if Barnabas ever found out, there’d be hell to pay.” 

        “Hell I’d rather avoid.”  They arrived at the castle gate and the guards saluted Clive as the gears ground into action. 

        “Joshua has not left, has he?”

        “No, my lord,” one of the guards answered stiffly.

        “Good.  There will be other visitors arriving later with Lady Jote.  Be on the lookout for them, would you?”

        “Of course, my lord.  The shift will change soon, but if they have not arrived, I will pass that on.”

        “Thank you.”

        “Forgot I’d finally get to meet this brother of yours,” Cid commented quietly.

        “He will be most eager to meet you as well.”  Oh, naturally the brother knew of him too.

        “Great Greagor, is there anyone you didn’t tell?”  The look on Clive’s face was one that Cid had never seen before.  He didn’t think him capable of such a smug look of anticipation.  If he didn’t know better, he would think there was mischief afoot here.  Could he have changed so much that mischief was actually within his grasp these days?  Cid had a hard time seeing it.  Still, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”  Once again Clive only smirked, eyes narrowed with what could be called glee on someone else, and dodged the question by jogging up to the two Shields that had left them at the city gate.

        “Tyler!  Wade!” 

        “We know, we know,” Wade grumbled.  “Nothing to report.”

        “And Tyler?  You know Jill will ask.”

        “The only stiff joint is from sleeping on a rock, I assure you.”

        “Good.  Enjoy your day off.”

        “Go easy on your friend, there,” Wade replied with a grin.  Now Cid was even more confused.

        “Apologies,” Clive said when he returned, stubbornly changing the subject from what Cid had been asking about.  “Jill and I keep a close eye on them for signs of the curse.  Part of the deal was that they would retire from the field if it ever began to show.”

        “Seems a little overly cautious, doesn’t it?  How many years did you use the Blessing of the Phoenix and never had anything to show for it?”

        “That cannot count.  I am…a unique case.”

        “Noticed that.”  Clive looked around nervously.

        “I may be immune,” he whispered.  “At the very least, I am extremely resistant.”  After everything he’d learned about his dear friend, and everything he’d suspected about him, Cid would have thought surprises like that wouldn’t crop up any longer.  He took a deep breath, reached for a cigar, and lit it without a thought.

        “Clive,” he said in a very low tone.  “If you don’t tell me the full story of what happened after I died within the next hour, I am going to search this castle for someone who will.”

        “You have no idea what you are asking for, my friend.”

Chapter Text

        “Thank you for doing this, Jill.”  Joshua sat in her room, or Clive’s room, actually.  According to Jote, the entire castle knew it was their room and deliberately chose not to comment upon it.  Joshua just found it convenient that they could both easily be found in the same place, though Clive was currently out hunting with the others.  A good thing, in Joshua’s estimation considering it was a shirt he’d needed mended and Jill was kind enough to do it for him, even if just to save him from the embarrassment of having to ask another.  So he sat there in one of Clive’s shirts that was much too large on him waiting patiently.  “It amazes me how little one pays attention to the growth of one’s own body at the time.  I had thought my growing spurts were once again finished.”

        “A little extra muscle on those scraggly arms is not going to do you ill,” Jill giggled at him.  Joshua resisted the urge to toss something at her and chose to toss words instead.

        “Not all of us can be a god-chosen legend with muscles to match.  Some have to make do with our brains over our brawn.”  Jill laughed again, though she didn’t look up from her work.

        “I will give you ten gil to say that to Clive’s face.”

        “Pft.  Why should I?  He’d most like agree with me.”  They laughed and Joshua stretched out on the sofa, letting his eyes wander over the ceiling.  Strange though it was, he was glad that his legs now dangled over the arm.  Finally he was back to his usual stature.  His old stature?  Not a child.  It wasn’t long before the growth spurts hit, but it felt like an eternity wading through it.  For some reason his relief had a tinge of Gav’s colorful sayings in his mind, things Joshua would never say himself.

        Thank fuck for that.  The odd feeling of the saying made him chuckle some more.

        “You seem cheerful.”

        “Just considering how grateful I am to no longer be child-sized.  The process was a strange one.  By the time I woke up last time, I was already fifteen summers with a changing voice and a decent height.  I had little real idea what it felt like.”

        “Glad to find out?”  Joshua mulled it over a moment.

        “It hurt more than I expected.”  He idly rubbed one heel over the other shin bone.  “But I am glad that I did not sleep through those years this time.”

        “We all are glad of that.”  The comfortable silence dragged on for a while, the only real sound the gentle tugging of Jill’s needle on the fabric in her hand.  Quiet moments like this had a way of causing his mind to wander to strange places.  Today, he felt like sharing.

        “Sometimes I forget it, you know.  Our prior lifetime.”  He could feel Jill’s eyes on him.  “On the clearest of days when I am surrounded by family and friends, it seems a nightmare I could forget without regret.  In the darkest nights when there is naught but fear over imagined dangers, our current reality is a sweet dream conjured by my own mind to soften the blow of waking without.”

        “Do you want to forget it?  To go back to just being the Phoenix, heir to the throne?”  He scoffed loudly at the idea almost instantly.

        “I would hardly be me if I did, now would I?”

        “That does not answer the question, Brother.”

        “I think it does, Sister.  Who would I be without everything I’ve seen?  What if I became a crazed ruler taking from the people for never knowing what it was to go without?  What if I abused the Phoenix, playing right into Ultima’s hands?  What if I was disinclined to call you Sister?”  Jill actually chuckled, her work audibly falling to her lap.

        “You could never be those things.  And you enjoy calling me Sister far too much to think you would not.”  Joshua grinned.

        “I know.  And were I ever to veer down such dismal paths, many would set me right.  Yet I find the notion intriguing.  How much do our experiences define us?  To what extent do they shape who we are?”

        “All this from a split seam on a shirt?”

        “Forgive me.  ‘Tis only philosophy and wondering.” 

        “From a split seam.”

        “From a split seam, yes.”  It wouldn’t be the first time those kinds of musings had gotten him looks from others.  Jote constantly gave him confused looks when those idle thoughts slipped from his lips.  But she usually humored him and discussed whatever it was in the end.  “Do you know what amazes me about it all?  Returning to our past?”  Jill hummed and he continued.  “There being no precedent for this, I would have once thought I would feel as if I were two people.  Being forced to grow once again and be treated as a child is such a contrast to what I felt I was.  And yet I retained my self-image rather than separating the two.  The child on the outside became the adult in my mind.”

        “Perhaps that is because you had us with you and Father knew as well.”

        “Mayhap it was.  And Jote has told me most of the castle figured out early on that something had changed with us all, though they never had any real idea what it was.  They were content to see us happy, according to her.  I suspect it the same reason none ever questions this being your room with Clive.”  Jill sucked in a breath at that and Joshua rolled to sit up, unsure what had startled her.

        “They know about that?” she hissed, wide-eyed and a bit pale.  He couldn’t help the cocked eyebrow and confused stare.  How did she not know about that?

        “Sister, the two of you are quite literally the worst kept secret in this castle.  Just a few weeks ago one of the maids asked me how much longer they must wait for your actual engagement so they could speak of you both.”  Jill squeezed her eyes tight.

        “Please tell me you deflected them,” she said nervously through clenched teeth.

        “I needn’t.  She was called away before I could answer at all.  Have you never wondered why there are enough blankets or pillows for you both?  Or why there are always two cups?”

        “I assumed it was Clive’s doing.”  Joshua rolled his eyes.

        “It is an occasion to mark when Clive thinks of those things for himself, Sister, and you know it.  No, that would be some few of the maids whom have figured you both out.  The larger point of this being, neither of you are as subtle as you think and it has set all the staff to frenzy to watch.”

        “I thought we were doing well!”

        “Sister, have you seen how Clive looks at you?  How could any not realize?  And before you get ideas, you are no better.”

        “I don’t—”

        “You do.  All these years and you’ve never grown commonplace to one another.  Truly, I do not know what you wait upon.”  Much to his surprise, she looked crestfallen down at the shirt on her lap.

        “Clive has yet ask and I’ve yet to mention it.  You know he will want to ask properly, which I do not mind.  We all know what my answer will be.  But I also know what stops us both.  You spoke of memory and what makes us who we are.  We never stopped being outlaws in our own minds, even now.  We do not want the trappings of a noble wedding.  We do not want grand announcements and extravagant affairs and shows for the High Houses.”  She looked up, small tear in the corner of her eye, and reached out for his hand, which he took.  “We lost everything we ever cared for once.  Never will we take its return for granted.”  She squeezed.  “This is all we need and all we want.  If Clive proposes, we will have to begin thinking about things larger than us.  So we avoid it, pretending we are practically married already because were we still living in the Bennumere we would be.  Just the way we want to be.”  Letting go of his hand, she returned to the last few stitches of his shirt.

        “I feel I ought not have teased you now.”  He had no idea how deeply Jill felt about it, and by proxy, Clive as well.  He’d never seen nor thought about a royal wedding.  It probably did seem overwhelming and impersonal to them. 

        “It’s alright.  I actually feel better for having said it.  There.”  A quick tug on her thread, a snip of her scissors, and she held up his shirt for him.  “All done.”

        “I cannot thank you enough.  The seamstresses have had their fill with my growing.  Had I been forced to ask yet again, I do believe they would have made me do it myself.”  He pulled Clive’s shirt over his head while Jill put her supplies away.

        “Did you never learn to sew at all?”

        “Only a few basic and necessary stitches.  And trust me, they are truly and absolutely dreadful.  I was banned from fixing my own clothing when Jote caught me ‘making every mistake one could possibly make and several more for good measure.’  To the amusement of every Undying in Tabor.”  Jill laughed.  Joshua started pulling his shirt on, somehow getting his elbow caught in the sleeve, when he heard the door open.  Well, if his shirt was stuck, at least it was also hiding the heat on his cheeks for getting caught looking the fool.

        “Something I should know?”  Clive’s voice was strained from what Joshua knew would be an amused grin.

        “Naught but the usual, Brother,” Joshua ground out, tugging his shirt the rest of the way down, shoulder popping a bit with the force.

        “Only that Joshua wasn’t quite finished growing yet.”  Jill stepped up to kiss Clive on the cheek and he threaded an arm around her waist.  “We were not expecting you back so soon.  How did the hunt go?”

        “Fine.  Just fine.”  There was something in that too-casual statement, but Joshua chose to let it go for the moment.  He doubted anyone was injured by the tone and that meant Clive would get there when he was ready.

        “Jote is well, is she not?”  Even now Joshua couldn’t stop that little bit of worry for her when she went out on hunts like this.  He’d known about her training for quite some time, but the concern spiked when she began training with Clive.  She wanted to be stronger than the Guardians could make her and that meant far more danger.  His rational mind knew Clive would watch out for her.  Deep down, there was an anxiety about it all that simply refused to be quelled.  He would never speak of it to her, however.  Perhaps he should make more of an effort to accompany them to settle his own nerves.

        “She is perfectly well.  She grows stronger by the day.  I can see why you described her as a fearsome fighter when we met.”  Rather than answer, he simply nodded, relieved all was well.  “We did have one unexpected encounter.  As a result of that, I’ve a surprise for you.”

        “A surprise?” Jill questioned, head cocked curiously.  “What kind of surprise?”

        “One you must see to believe.” 

        Both of them thoroughly confused, Clive led them toward the formal drawing room.  It was easy to see he was up to something despite his staunch refusal to say anything of this surprise.  For him to keep so silent, this must be something grand indeed.  He just couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be.  What kind of surprise from a hunt would he deposit in the formal drawing room?  They only rarely used that room as it was, and even then it was most often for one of the High Houses.  It must be a person, but who?  Everyone Joshua could think of he already knew precisely where they were.  Needless to say, any scenario he could imagine did little to prepare himself for the reality of the nature of this surprise.  Joshua had only rarely seen the kind of smile Clive wore when he reached for the door handle.  He ushered them inside, but Joshua barely made it into the room before running straight into Jill’s back when she suddenly stopped short.  He heard the gasp before he saw who else was there.

        “Cid?” she breathed.

        “Hello, Jill.”  A completely silent breath passed, the man smiling warmly.  That couldn’t possibly be who Joshua thought it was, could it?  “Had a feeling Clive here wasn’t alone.”

        “Cid!” Jill shouted and ran to him.  Cid caught her in a tight embrace, eyes closing in obvious relief as he held her.  That all but proved it was precisely who Joshua thought it was.  Exactly who he thought it was.  Stunned, Joshua turned from the visitor to his brother.

        That cannot be…  Clive nodded.

        It is.

        But that would mean…  Another nod.

        It does.  Please do not start.  Over the years, the ability of the Rosfield brothers to communicate silently had only grown, much to the annoyance of basically anyone around them.  With the addition of a few hand motions, they were now able to convey more complex ideas than ever before, perfectly understanding one another.  Now, those gestures were set to incredible speed.

        I knew you had something to do with this!  The Phoenix never met Cid directly!  He was connected to you all along!

        It was not me!  It must have been Ramuh. 

        Blaming another Eikon now, are we?

        That is the only thing that makes sense if you stop ogling long enough to see it.

        But this means we all truly do have a connection and a bond to our Eikons!  A part of us remains long after.  The implications are vast and potentially world altering.

        I hardly think we need any more world altering revelations, implications, or situations on our hands.  Although…

        Although this means Dion was likely brought back as well.  We need to—

        “Jill?” Cid drawled, ending their silent conversation.  “Should I be worried about them?”

        “You’ll get used to it,” she laughed. 

        “Do this often, then, do they?”

        “Oh yes.  The only people I’ve ever known to have entire conversations entirely silently.”

        “Would’ve thought that would be you.”  Jill shrugged it off. 

        Joshua knew she was a little jealous of their habit, but she didn’t take it to heart after he explained his suspicion that it had something to do with their Eikons.  While Clive held a part of Shiva, Ifrit himself was also a fire Eikon.  If Joshua was correct, that would make Ifrit and the Phoenix brothers just as he and Clive were, bridging that gap between them.  Or that was the idea, at least.  Even Joshua could admit they took their silent conversations further than most.  Now was not the time to get into that, however.  Now he was presented with an opportunity he’d missed before.  With one final glance and amused smirk at Clive, he walked over to Cid and extended a hand.

        “Cidolfus Telamon.  I owe you my most heartfelt gratitude and deepest apologies.”  Cid warily took his hand.

        “What’s this now?”

        “You saved my brother when he could have fallen to Ultima.  You bought us all time we desperately needed.  I saw your actions and have long been thankful.  Yet I was too slow to arrive in time to save you afterward.  Had I been but a few moments sooner, perhaps much could have been different.  For that, I am truly sorry.”  Cid’s brow furrowed while he still held Joshua’s hand.  He opened his mouth once or twice to speak, but there was something he was obviously not quite processing about the statement.

        “You weren’t quite as dead as the world believed, were you?” Cid finally asked, putting the pieces together. 

        “I should have thought Clive would tell you such, but no.  I lived, if just.”  He dropped Cid’s hand.  “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

        “Glad to hear the rumors of your death were greatly exaggerated.  You just couldn’t find the time to mention this last night, Clive?”  Clive crossed his arms, biting the inside of his lip with amusement all his own.

        “I may not have gotten around to mentioning something.”  Cid grumbled something in apparent understanding that Joshua did not share.  He shot his own reproachful look at his brother.

        Not funny.  Clive only shrugged.

        “Jill seemed obvious if anyone else was here,” Cid recovered, “but I didn’t expect the three of you together.  Now someone want to tell me just how we all got here to begin with?  Aside from the obvious.”  He gestured toward Clive, who groaned and swiped an annoyed hand down his face.  Joshua could only laugh.

        “I appear to have company in my assumptions!” he laughed.  “Cid, this once, I can say it will be an absolute joy to recount this.”

        For the next hour Joshua told Cid all about Clive’s heroics, naturally making his brother as uncomfortable as possible.  He didn’t embellish Clive’s actions, but neither did he understate them as he knew Clive himself would.  Every time Cid looked at him with awe, Clive shrank a little further into his seat.  It was a little odd, if he thought about it long enough, just how easy it was to talk to Cid.  They could have been the oldest of friends though they’d never met.  His mind could easily place this man into many of his memories of the hideaway, like he’d always been there.  He and Jill had a great deal of fun telling Cid everything they could think of.  Apparently Clive had said little of real import. 

        “Great Greagor’s gash, Clive,” Cid murmured when Joshua finished with the visions they witnessed in the Apodytery.  “You went and gave an Eikon free will?”

        “No!  I did not go so far.”  Joshua almost missed the “I don’t think” at the end of that sentence. 

        “Well, whatever you did, I faintly remember some fiery figure handing me my own lightning.  Makes sense it could be the Phoenix.”

        “You’ve been here some time then?” Jill asked.

        “Seven years.  Using Phoenix Gate as a reference, I’d say it was a few days after the three of you showed up.  Two maybe three days after the attack?”

        “Two or three days…”  Clive went pale.  “It can’t be,” he murmured, placing his hand on his chest where he often did when he referenced his Eikons.

        “Clive?  What is it?”  Jill got up to sit beside him, holding his other hand and ducking into his field of vision.

        “I never put it together.  You woke up the day after we did, Jill.  The afternoon of Phoenix Gate.”

        “I did, yes.”

        “I used Shiva in the marshes.” 

        “To save Wade from the morbol.  I remember.”

        “Two days later we fought the Ironblood for Rosalith.”

        “Right, I’d forgotten about that,” Cid interjected.  “If I have my days right, I’d say I woke up the morning after.”  If Clive got any more pale, Joshua was going to be very concerned. 

        “That was the first time I called on Ramuh, Bahamut as well.  Truly called on them, not just for a few sparks in my hand.”  Joshua realized what he was thinking just before Jill did and it was quite the realization.

        “You think you released their memories.”

        “I think it possible the Phoenix used me to carry them and calling on those Eikons was the trigger to release it.”

        “Interesting,” Cid muttered to himself, arms crossed across his chest.  “The Phoenix not only gathered our memories in the aether but knew friend from foe.  By now I assume you’ve used Odin, have you not?”  Clive nodded.

        “That same night.  I used every Eikon in that battle.”

        “I am certain neither Barnabas nor Benedikta knew anything of the future.  I would stake my life on it.  I did stake my life on it.”

        “Which would mean Kupka has no idea either,” Jill added. 

        “Small mercy, that, from what Clive told me,” Cid agreed.

        “Then we need to figure out what Dion knows.”  Knowing Cid, the one gone longest of them all, had returned, Joshua felt it almost guaranteed Dion did as well.  The Phoenix would not have left him out of this crazy idea, not after he was so instrumental in their last battle.  Long ago had he dismissed the idea, but now that he honestly considered it, he could almost feel the Phoenix move within him like it was trying to agree.  That was surely his mind playing tricks, though.  Either way, a knock on the door interrupted that thought entirely.

        “Your highness.  My lord.  My lady.  There are more visitors here for you with Lady Jote.”

        “Of course.  Mid,” Joshua muttered, standing to escort them in.  “Thank you, Moira”

        “Well, Mid and—”  Cid didn’t quite get through his sentence before Joshua finished opening the door.  The instant he laid eyes on the blond woman waiting in the hall, he grabbed Jote’s wrist and pulled her behind him, backing them further into the room.  The walls closed in on him, dimming as he desperately fought back against the memory of Caer Norvent from taking over.  If he lost his focus now, Jote could be in danger.

        “What the hell is she doing here?” he growled.

        The room quickly became a scene of confused chaos, but Joshua didn’t care.  He remembered Benedikta Harman all too well.  What the hell was Cid playing at, bringing her here?  When last they’d met she had used Jote against him and he could do nothing to stop her.  Not this time.  He would not let her get near Jote.  He didn’t have to hide this time.  Jote would not stop him this time.  He could protect her.

        “It’s fine, Moira.  We’ll take care of this.”  Joshua heard Clive’s voice, but didn’t take his eyes off of the woman in front of him. 

        “Clive, who is that?” Jill asked.

        “Benna’s with me,” Cid answered her.  Benedikta never made any movement save a small shuffle to allow Moira to leave.  Behind Benedikta was a small child, holding onto her leg fearfully, and she held a hand out to shield the child. 

        “Joshua, what’s wrong?”  Clive was worried.

        “Caer Norvent,” Joshua managed to answer through clenched teeth.  He could feel Jote’s pulse against his hand but it was covered with the sound of her grinding her teeth in pain from a wound he knew she no longer had.  One he absolutely would not allow her to suffer again.

        “What about…oh, shit.  I never thought.”

        “Oh, bloody hell, you were the one they were after?” Cid inserted soon after, clearly connecting the dots.  A tense moment passed while Joshua and Benedikta stared at one another.

        “Benna, he’s scary,” the child said quietly.

        “It’s alright, Mid.  Just stay behind me.”  The name helped snap him out of his defensive state of mind a little, just enough that his mind started the process of thinking again rather than merely reacting. 

        “Joshua,” Jote whispered, probably sensing the slip.  “You’re hurting me.”  That was a bucket of cold water on the situation.  Her words, combined with the gentle touch on his arm, sent a shock of reality through his system.  He jumped, releasing her hand.  Her eyes were concerned.  Worried for him.  When he looked around the room, he realized everyone was tense.  Clive and Cid most of all, both ready to spring into action if Joshua made the wrong move.  Clive’s tension told him everything he needed to know: he’d jumped to past conclusions.

        “I’m sorry,” he whispered, mostly to Jote.  “I’m sorry.  I…I need a moment.” 

        He rushed out of the room, unconsciously bristling just a little passing by Benedikta.  He’d thought himself better than that, better than jumping to rash conclusions and actions.  Then again, he was suddenly faced with someone he only knew as an enemy.  No, that wasn’t quite right.  Had he seen just her he would have been wary and waited for an explanation.  It was seeing her with Jote.  Instinct from many years ago took over.  Fear ignited in his heart, spurring his body to action.  He was so ashamed of himself for that.  Battle instincts, sure, but when had he become the type to act before thinking?

            Shoving the door to his room open, it took a great deal of self control to not slam it behind him in sheer frustration.  It was purely with himself.  Feeling like a child already, he rolled onto his bed, staring at the canopy above him.  Cid most likely would not have brought her if she was a danger.  He most certainly would not have entrusted Mid to her if there were any real question.  Beyond that, Clive never would have brought her to the castle at all if he’d had doubts.  Ten seconds.  If Joshua had paused just ten seconds to think things through, he’d have realized this all sooner and this could have been avoided.  He threw his arm over his eyes, taking several breaths in an effort to calm his racing mind.  His shaky breathing didn’t help.  Had he moved at the wrong time he’d have missed the click of his door closing.  Only one person could enter so quietly.

        “I am so sorry for hurting you,” he said softly without moving his arm from his eyes.

        “You didn’t terribly,” Jote answered calmly.  “Only squeezed a touch too hard.  If I could not handle that, I could hardly consider myself a fighter, could I?”  The tendril of a joke was there, but he didn’t care to grasp it.

        “Then I shall apologize for the way I behaved in general.  I should have thought before acting.”

        “Do you think I want an apology for reacting to what I can only imagine was a memory I could not know?  That none of us knew?”

        “You deserve one.”

        “Benna is not going to hurt me.” 

        “Benna, is it?”  Try though he might, he couldn’t quite keep the smallest bit of contempt out of his voice.  Jote thankfully didn’t comment on it.

        “Yes.  I rather like her.  This version of her at least.”  Of course she did.  It made him feel even worse for his actions.  Jote was an impeccable judge of character.  If she vouched for someone, Joshua immediately took heed.  Meaning he really messed up.  Ever light on her feet, he didn’t hear her move across the floor until the mattress beside him sank.  They spent a great deal of time together, but this was a pretty bold thing to do.  It was more surprising that it didn’t bother him.  Rather, it was a comfort to have her within arm’s reach.  “Will you tell me?  Caer Norvent, was it?”  He sighed and didn’t answer for a long time.  “I take it she hurt me?” Jote prodded gently. 

        “One of the few injuries you let me heal,” he whispered.  He’d never told her of that night.  There’d been no need, nothing to be gained for either of them.  Now he knew he could not refuse her questions.  He’d not been able to refuse her questions since that fateful day in the marshes.  Anything she’d wanted to know since then he gladly told her.  “She caught us unawares in Sanbreque.  I’ve no idea how she knew I was a Dominant.  I searched every memory of recent days for a week trying to figure out what I’d done and I never did pinpoint the slip.  The world believing me dead, she thought me to have been the one to kill the Phoenix.  I would have laughed were it not such a dangerous position to be in.”  He finally dropped the arm from his eyes, searching the canopy once more rather than meet her rapt gaze.  “She took us to Caer Norvent, trying to enlist my aid for Waloed.  Well, she called it enlisting my aid.  Coercion, more like.  Trying to force me into serving Barnabas Tharmr, becoming part of his collection of Dominants.  That much was easy to ignore.  Her words were as a fly droning in the background.  But…”

        “But?”

        “But she figured out what would motivate me.”  For the first time he looked at her.  Jote’s eyes never left his, instantly understanding what happened.

        “I see.  How badly did she hurt me?”

        “Not as terribly as you might think, in truth.  Thank the Founder we were only there some few hours.  Her hostilities were mostly threats until she threw you against me and inched her saber into your shoulder.  She toyed with you to get my attention.  You were the weapon against me and we both knew it.  You alone were the sole reason I did not reveal myself that night for you knew as well as I that was her aim.  Though I was bound, it was not even with crystal fetters.  I could have burned the castle down in a moment just as she wanted.  You begged me to stay my hand.  Even still it was a near thing.  Had she remained in the room much longer, I was not certain I would have contained my ire.”

        “I cannot imagine I would have wanted that.”

        “You were ever vehement I keep our secret.  I heeded that wisdom most of the time.  But that night, I nearly did not.”  There were so many reasons he was glad he listened to Jote that night, though he may have been a bit more aggressive with his flames as they made their escape.  It did not make him feel better.  “It was happening again,” he murmured.  Jote tilted her head in confusion and concern.

        “What was?”

        “Someone else I cared about was getting hurt because of me,” he murmured.  “Because of who I was.  Someone else was going to die protecting me.  I was going to have to watch it happen again.  Thirteen years had passed yet nothing had changed.  I still could do nothing to stop it.”

        “And so now you tried to protect me as you could not then.”  Joshua hummed lightly.

        “Undeservedly so, it would seem.  I had thought I’d been here long enough that those kinds of reflexes from memories long in the past had faded along with the circumstances which created them.  Seeing her with you, I did not think.  I could not.”  He owed everyone a sincere apology.  Reason or no reason, it was an inexcusable reaction. 

        “They are alright, you know.”  Jote smiled softly and reached out to take his hand, surprising him once more.  Twice over when her thumbs began pressing small circles into his palm and along each finger.  “Benna was quick to suggest I go after you.  I suspect she understands more than you believe.”

        “That is not comforting given my less than kind welcome,” he grumbled.  But the grumbling tone he felt did not last long, slipping away from him with her deft fingers.  “Jote?”

        “Hm?”

        “What are you doing?”  He flexed his hand in hers slightly to finish the question.

        “I do not know.  Have I not done this before?”

        “Not that I recall, no.”

        “Would you like me to stop?”  Joshua thought about it.  She did not pause while he did.  It was a rather nice sensation, he had to admit.  Unusual, but nice.

        “Not necessarily,” he finally answered.  Jote’s smile grew just a bit.  “I find it odd, though.”

        “You do?”

        “I often shy away from physical touch with most people.  Throughout my childhood Annabella demanded I be within reach.  She constantly had a hand on mine or on my shoulders or on my head, long after I thought myself old enough to refrain from such things.  Between her and the physickers constantly poking me both then and later on, I grew to dislike the touch of others.  Clive and Jill were the exceptions.”  He smiled softly.  “And Mid.  She gave me little choice but to grow accustomed to it.”

        “Need I ask again if I should stop?  I am also a physicker, you know.”  A teasing glint appeared in her eyes while she focused on her ministrations. 

        “That is what I find odd,” he said quietly, eyes on hers growing just a little unfocused as the pressure she applied began making him drowsy.  “I have no inclination to pull away.  I did not dislike your touch as I did others, but you were still my physicker and often prone to the prodding I so detested.  This is…”  He didn’t know how to finish the thought.  Her calloused fingers drifted down over his wrist, making the same motions with soothing pressure.

        “This must be no memory, then.  Which I suppose would be make it impulse instead.”

        “Is it strange I like to see you give in to impulse?”

        “You seem to be enjoying this, so I imagine you do,” she replied with a small laugh.

        “That is hardly what I meant.”  His eyes drooped a little further and he let them close.

        “I know what you meant.” 

        “Good,” he said with a sleepy smirk.  “I did not wish to explain it at the moment.”

        Jote stifled a giggle at the tell-tale rise and fall of Joshua’s chest as he nodded off a few minutes later.  Good.  He deserved a rest.  Just once she witnessed one of those strong, reality-altering memories they all had from time to time, though it was a benign case.  He’d explained that those memories, already rare, were fading in them all as time went on and were becoming more mundane each time.  Rather than fear or grief, their memories placed them in a tavern or library or similarly innocuous places.  It sounded terribly real, not to mention scary, even if it was benign.  She didn’t want to think what it must be like for a more real memory to take over.  Was that what happened here?  Or was it instinct reacting to a situation he could not control once long ago?  The way he talked, it sounded like instinct.  Not that either option was ideal.  Sometimes she forgot just how much he had seen in his life.  A life that was far longer and more fraught with pain than it had any right being.  It was easy to forget it all most days.  He was just Joshua.  Until moments like this when reality came crashing back upon them all.  She was glad she was here for him like this, even if she was part of the problem.  She couldn’t blame him for his reaction and she felt sure no one else would either.  The only one to be upset would be him.  And if she were wrong, well, she would just have to ensure it didn’t weigh too heavily on him.

        He was a liar, though.  That made her smile return as she continued pressing her fingers along his hand and wrist.  A few times, mostly since she began training with Clive, Joshua had helped massage out kinks her shoulders had knotted themselves into.  Clearly he thought nothing of that kind of contact.  Was it because he was rendering aid and therefore that was a different matter?  Or because he had initiated that contact rather than someone else?  Something to ponder later on.  But if Joshua was a liar, so was she.  She knew precisely what she doing and that it was no memory.  Well, mostly she knew what she was doing.  Even now as she only lessened the pressure while he slept, she recognized a small desire to be closer to him without fully giving voice as to why.  And this small thing she happened to see Jill do for Clive once.  Jote had archived the idea for when the time was right.  Today he needed a small comfort and this did the trick.

        She knew she was smiling as a fool, but this pleased her just as much as Joshua seemed to like it.  After the events of earlier, the fact that this was all it took for him to feel safe and cared for enough to fall asleep just made it even better.  She was glad she both remembered this and that she’d acted on it.  Honestly, she wouldn’t mind doing it more often.  Perhaps next time he had hunched over books too long and put a kink into his own shoulders, he would allow her to return the favor.  That would be quite enjoyable..  Joshua shifted slightly  in the midst of her musings and Jote thought to just let him sleep for a while.  What she didn’t expect was the tiny thrill that ran through her when he unknowingly laced his fingers between hers, a deep, calm breath leaving him as if all was where it should be.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile

        The door closed behind Jote, leaving Clive and the others lost in stunned silence.  Neither she nor Joshua would return for a while, if at all.  Although he may not know the specifics, Clive recognized that look of fear and desperation in Joshua’s eyes.  He’d felt it himself before.  Thank the Founder Joshua had come to his senses.  Collectively they all seemed to take a breath and Clive reached out for Jill, needing to feel her warmth close by for just a moment.  She allowed it, neither giving any thought to others being in the room.  He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hair as she hugged his waist.  Had she walked in with Kupka like Jote had with Benedikta, Clive wasn’t sure he would have handled it any better.  Quite possibly worse.

        “Well that was exciting,” Cid quipped just to break the tension.  Clive ignored him eyeing the affection he and Jill so overtly showed. 

        “He was scary, Dada,” Mid said, finally leaving Benna’s safety for her father’s.  Cid knelt down to her level and took her hands.

        “He didn’t mean to scare you.  Joshua is a very nice fellow.  I promise.  Just having a rough day.”

        “But why would he look at Benna that way?  Benna wouldn’t hurt him.”

        “Well—”

        “I reminded him of someone he once knew,” Benna interrupted.  “I think someone who looked a lot like me hurt Jote once, a long time ago.  He didn’t know I was not her.”

        “Why would someone hurt Jote?  She’s nice.”

        “It’s hard to say, my lovely,” Cid answered. 

        “Joshua just wanted to protect her,” Benna agreed.  “I cannot blame him for wanting to make sure she’s safe.”  Mid nodded slowly, thinking hard about something.  They were all much more gracious about this than Clive feared they would be.  It had to be a shock to Benedikta in particular. 

        “Is it because he loves her?”  Jill froze in his arms, staring at Mid and her question, which also derailed his sympathies for Benna.

        “Why would you say that?” Clive dared ask gently.  Cid and Benna were both stumped by the question anyway, so he didn’t figure they would mind him getting involved.

        “When Dad’s upset, sometimes Benna’s the only one who can make him feel better.  And Daddy loves Benna.”  Cid not-so-casually cleared his throat.  Benna’s face was red enough to blend in with the decorations.

        “Uh, Mid, maybe—” Cid tried to stop the thought, but Mid was having none of it.  Clive would have laughed had the conversation not been so unexpected.

        “What?  I’m awake sometimes, you know.  I’ve seen you getting upset and Benna—”

        “Mid, that isn’t something to talk about around people.”  Benna fared little better in dissuading her.

        “Why?  He just did it!”  Clive’s eyes went wide when Mid thrust a finger at him.  He didn’t do anything, did he?  “I saw him.  He reached for that lady when he was upset and then he wasn’t upset anymore.  Daddy does that too when you hug him, Benna.”

        “Oh.  Well, I guess that’s true enough,” Cid admitted.  Clive shrugged one shoulder in agreement, feeling Jill stifle a giggle against his chest.

        “So if Jote is the only one making Joshua not upset, does that mean he loves her?”  Her big eyes asked Clive the question, yet he got the impression she was already certain of her conclusion.

        “I do not know.  But they are very close and I’m sure he’ll feel better after she talks to him.  Tell me, Mid.  Do you like Jote?”  Mid nodded enthusiastically.

        “I do.  She’s quiet, but she knows everything.  And she lets me look at machines.”  Clive wasn’t sure what that meant, but Mid’s acceptance of Jote was clear.

        “Do you think you could give my brother a second chance for Jote’s sake, then?”  Mid thought about it some more, then nodded.

        “Okay.  What’s the thing you say, Dad?  Started on the wrong tip-toe?”

        “Started out on the wrong foot,” he chuckled.  “Means your first meeting wasn’t a good one.”

        “Yeah.  That.  But he better apologize to Benna!”

        “He need not—”

        “I’m sure he will,” Clive said more to Benna than Mid.  “Once he calms down and sees reality rather than nightmares.”

        “Do you know what he was so frightened of, Clive?” Jill asked, still tucked securely under his arm exactly where he preferred her.

        “Not exactly, but I’ve a very good guess.  Caer Norvent was where we met.”  He nodded toward Benedikta.  “I did not know it until years later, but the man I’d been hunting was actually Joshua.  And where he went—”

        “Jote followed,” she finished, putting the pieces together.  “Then we should let them work it out alone for now.”

        “Agreed.”  Jill, regrettably, stepped away from Clive toward Benedikta, extending a hand in greeting.

        “Benedikta Harman I presume.”

        “And you must be Jill Warrick.  I’ve heard much about you.”

        “It’s a pleasure, Benedikta.  A surprise, I admit, but a pleasure.”

        “It is something of a surprise myself after everything Cid told me.  No small wonder that he managed to save me from the king.”

        “I’m glad he did.  No one deserves to be in the shadow of Barnabas Tharmr the rest of their days.”

        “Would that I could let you all rest,” Clive interrupted, “but there is one more person you ought meet before we all may call it a day.”

        “Ah, yes.  Archduke Elwin,” Cid answered.  “Man who made a crazy dream of ours a reality we didn’t think the world was ready for.  Was looking forward to meeting him already.  Doubly so now.”

        “He’s been tied up in meetings all day or I’d have made the introductions sooner.  I’ll go fetch him, if you do not mind staying, Jill.”

        “Of course not.”

        Were he honest with himself, this was the part he dreaded most.  A reunion with old friends long gone was a precious gift, Joshua’s teasing aside.  Clive, Jill, Cid, Joshua, they shared something.  A history and a life that now existed only in their memories.  In that history, they saw him do the impossible on a regular basis.  Uncomfortable though it made him, there was some degree of the usual there.  He knew Cid would be grateful, Joshua excited, Jill concerned for him.  But his father…  Clive didn’t know how he would react.  He tried so hard to push back against the idea he had a hand in resetting time but now it pushed back harder than ever.  Joshua was right.  Cid was connected to Clive, even if it was through Ramuh.  There was no way to look at this that didn’t make him more involved, more participant than target.  No, it wouldn’t surprise the others.  But this would be the first time he would have to look his father in the eye and tell him what he’d done.  This wasn’t just another story.  This was real and it was happening now.

        Partly as a distraction, Clive stopped by Joshua’s door, assuming that was where he went.  He tapped softly, carefully pressing against the wood to peak inside.  He found Jote sitting on the edge of the bed, Joshua stretched out beside her.  He seemed to be sleeping.  As quietly as he could manage, Clive asked if he was alright and Jote nodded.  Satisfied, he began to back out the door when Jote waved awkwardly, pointing toward the fire that was now barely embers.  Creeping across the floor, glad he left his sword behind, he placed another log on the fire and lit it with magic rather than flint.  Then he crept back out, hearing a soft “thank you” behind him.  The fact he could see her holding Joshua’s hand had absolutely nothing to do with him.  But it did make him wonder if Mid might not be onto something.

        Worthwhile distraction over, he resumed his walk toward his father’s office.  That was the most likely place he would be.  He tried to plan what he intended to say, but it all turned to mush in his mind.  This would be an impulse conversation, then.  He hated those when it was something important, always fearing he’d miss something or miscommunicate a point.  Nothing for it now, though.  Elwin’s office door loomed before him and he still didn’t have a plan.

            “Your Grace?” he called as he knocked, opening the door when he heard his father’s response.  Instantly he wondered if it was too late to back out.  He didn’t know Uncle Byron and Lord Murdoch would be here too.  Of course they would be.  Now that he thought about it, he remembered  being told Byron was arriving the day Clive left.  And as they generally did after long days of meetings, the three of them were now winding down around the fire with drinks near at hand.

        “Clive,” his father greeted him warmly.  “We were not expecting your return until tomorrow at the earliest.  How went the hunting?”

        “It went well, Father.  We returned early due to some unforeseen circumstances.”

        “That sounds ominous,” Murdoch commented.

        “I would not say ominous, my lord.”

        “With respect, Clive, that is not necessarily a comfort from you knowing what you consider ominous.”

        “Leave him be, Rodney.”  Uncle Byron swatted in Murdoch’s general direction with no intention of connecting.  “Come, tell us what’s on your mind, my boy.” 

        Byron rose from his seat by the fire to pour Clive a drink and fetch another chair.  When Clive took the drink yet remained standing, Byron pressed him into the seat.  Clive had to admit it amused him that Uncle Byron never questioned his own presence, assured that anything Clive had to say was meant for them all.  He wasn’t wrong, of course.  Clive just hadn’t considered he might have to tell them all together.  He took a long drink of the wine in his hand.  Founder, there was no good way to go about this.

        “Do you recall my telling you of Cid?” he began.  Elwin quickly nodded.

        “This was the man who rescued Jill and yourself, yes?” Byron clarified.  “Other timeline and all that.”

        “Yes.  That Cid.”  They did not have as much reason to bring up the specifics of their prior lives these days, but when it did come up, Clive was always grateful how accepting they all were.  It was simply a matter of their lives now.  “He’s downstairs.  In the drawing room.  Through a stroke of luck we ran into him in the marshes, though he was coming here anyway.”  Murdoch bristled at that information.

        “What could the lord commander of Waloed possibly want with us, former friend or no?”

        “Nothing good I’d wager,” Byron agreed.  Clive’s eyes were fixed on the wine in his goblet.  Still he could feel his father’s eyes on him.  He barely glanced up to see the scrutiny.  One glance was all it took. 

        His father was much quicker to catch on than the others.  He always paid attention to the smaller details in a situation, giving him insight into a great many things.  Because of that, his father knew what he was saying.  In his youth, Clive likely would have given much to see the look Elwin now gave him.  Awe, amazement, wonder, disbelief, respect.  All things he thought might have made him more valuable to the Duchy.  But now that he was seeing it, he hated it.  It made his skin crawl.  In that moment, he knew his father was questioning how much he actually knew his son.  Clive couldn’t blame him.  He couldn’t blame him if he went so far as to question if Clive was truly just a man like any other.  Why not?  Clive himself was beginning to question it.  It was the first time in a very long time Clive had felt trapped by his father’s gaze, barely hearing Murdoch and Uncle Byron debating their thoughts on Waloed.

        “Son,” Elwin interrupted them suddenly.  Clive sucked in a breath.  He was afraid to hear what might be said next.  Whatever he saw in Clive practically shoved him back in the chair, the question he’d meant to ask already answered.  “By the flames, Joshua was right.”  Clive winced.  The chatter stopped.

        “Cid is not here for Waloed,” he whispered.  “He is here because I am.  I…  Father, I think I may have brought a dead man back from the grave.”         

        “By the flames.”  Byron stared at his nephew, not quite remembering to breathe.

        Byron was young when he married.  He was not much older when Adeline, the only woman he would ever love and they both knew it, died bringing his daughter into the world.  He was only weeks older when his daughter followed his wife.  He’d been so ready to be a father.  There was little more in life he wanted so deeply than to hear his child’s laughter with the same tricks he’d made Elwin laugh when they were children.  To wander the halls in exaggerated search of a poorly hidden child.  To read them stories as they were tucked safely into their beds.  To bring them gifts from every town he visited until their shelves were overflowing.  It was all such a cruel dream given to him for a few short weeks, then ripped away leaving only a gaping wound that would never heal. 

        To say he was inconsolable was a deep understatement.  He did not leave his room for months, clinging to the blanket Adeline had made for their child, whom he alone named Elsie.  There was a great deal he neglected in those months.  Others always seemed to handle everything he should have in the hopes he would be able to begin moving forward again one day.  He owed much to those who helped him through the worst days of his life.  Then one day everything changed quite suddenly.

        Clive had been born not so long before Byron’s Elsie.  Between his own wife’s pregnancy and then his grief at losing them both, Byron had yet to travel to Rosalith to see his new nephew despite it being almost a year since.  But on a rainy day in the early summer, Elwin decided it was time for Byron’s dark days to end.  He brought Clive to Port Isolde with him.  Annabella had come down with some sickness and Clive could not be near her anyway so it worked out well.  Except Byron had been less enthused.  At the time he only saw his brother trying to force him into something he did not want to involve himself in.

        Elwin was there a full day, trying to get Byron to come out of his room, to no avail.  Luckily Elwin was far more stubborn than that.  Luckily he’d paid attention to all those times Byron had pulled pranks in their youth.  Instead of doing the talking, he let his son speak for himself.  Figuratively.  Mostly.  His brother opened his door just enough to let Clive inside, then closed it.  Byron had been prepared to scold his brother once more.  Instead, little Clive began finding the pieces of his heart with one look.  Elwin had given him the most precious gift he could.  Byron could not be the father he always wanted to be.  What he could be was the best uncle in Rosaria. 

        Clive took to him so easily, and he to Clive.  The child laughed when he tickled him and followed his finger when he read him a book.  With a few short days, he was able to do all the things he’d imagined doing with Elsie.  Clive found the pieces of his heart and Byron managed to begin putting them back together.  Late one night, a couple days before they were due back in Rosalith, he and his brother spoke like they never had before.  Like the adults and parents they were rather than brothers poking at one another. 

        “I will never be able to give him the life he deserves,” Elwin had said somberly, looking at Clive who was sleeping on Byron’s chest.  “He will have everything he could ever want in life except the normality of being a child.  I knew when the Duchy was left to me everything would change, but…  I never understood how much it would affect my children until Clive was born.” 

        “We knew, growing up.  He will as well.”

        “Would that he didn’t have to, though.”

        “Do you think Father ever felt that way about us?  Wished we were any other family?”

        “I do.  Byron, I will never be able to show him the love he deserves.  He will know I do, I will ensure that, but with the weight of the Duchy I will not be able to give him this.  Please, give him what I cannot.”

        “What are you talking about, Brother?”  Elwin smiled sadly at his son.

        “When he is here, let him be a child.  Do all you meant to do with Elsie.  Be the kind of father for him I cannot be in Rosalith.”

        It was a while before Byron fully understood what that meant.  Sometimes he wondered if Elwin hadn’t had an inkling of what Clive’s life was about to become.  Up until that point, he’d thought everything his brother did during that visit was to lift his spirits.  Later, he understood an ulterior motive.  One he was all too happy to fulfill.  Clive was always a child first and young lord second in Port Isolde.  Byron absolutely doted on him as much as he could.  Although, he tended to avoid Rosalith as a general rule.  Annabella sincerely disliked him and frankly the feeling was mutual.  The Rosfield Manor in Port Isolde became the playground for Byron and Clive.  They played anything and everything.  Read every book in the library.  Clive got to have his favorite foods all the time.  They went for walks around town and Byron would buy Clive anything he wanted. 

        The change was slow and Byron was never sure if it was Clive’s personality developing or the influence of growing up in the castle.  Most would say the boy became far more serious after his brother was born, but Byron always thought “withdrawn” the more apt word.  He loved his new brother more than anything, that much was plain to see.  Many of the gifts Byron bought for him were now for Joshua at Clive’s insistence, his eyes sparkling at the thought of giving Joshua a new toy.  The games they played became less rowdy and more serious.  One could mistake them for training exercises half the time.  But every time he visited for long periods, the first day or two was always terribly formal.  He would ask for nothing.  Byron was convinced he would not eat if he had to ask himself.  It was a couple years of repeated patterns before Byron finally asked Elwin about it.  That was when he found out about Annabella treating him as if he didn’t exist without the Phoenix.  Everything Byron did after that was that much more important.  Elwin had the Duchy to worry over.  If the boy’s own mother would not care for him, Byron would have to show him that much more love. 

        Byron loved both of his nephews dearly.  They were, for all intents and purposes, his children too.  He liked to think of them that way.  Naturally he doted on Joshua just as much as Clive, but Joshua was allowed to leave less often.  Annabella kept him on a tight leash.  Partly for that reason, Byron’s bond with Clive was always a bit tighter, just a bit stronger.  In a way, he felt is if he’d helped raise him.  He liked to think his doting helped negate some of the worst he saw at home.  But suddenly, out of the blue seven years ago, that boy was gone.

        When he’d received the stolas about the Iron Kingdom that night, he’d been so angry he’d a mind to fight them off himself.  His brother had gone too far this time.  Children?!  By the flames, what had Elwin been thinking?  Phoenix or no, Joshua was not ready.  Everyone knew that.  And what good would Clive and a Shield do in that situation?  Clive was a master with that sword, but he was one inexperienced man!  That was the night Byron decided it was time his brother heard exactly what he thought about the way he was raising his children.  This was only going to get them killed!  Yet it didn’t.  Not only did they live, they succeeded.  He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it himself.  But that fear wouldn’t abate.  The Shield with them said Joshua expected he’d sleep for a while after this and he wasn’t surprised about little Jill either.  Byron remembered the exhaustion of his own father when he was forced to prime and so it made sense.  But Clive wasn’t waking up either.  How could that Shield not be worried?  Four days and no one seemed as concerned as he!  Everyone thought it perfectly normal that he was still sleeping!  It was enough to stoke his anger once more.  Byron never expected the boy he knew to be gone when Clive did wake.  He never expected buried beneath the seriousness and oaths to protect was a Dominant in his own right.  He never expected Elwin to look him in the eye and tell him that Clive was the reason he let them fight.  Not the Phoenix nor Shiva.  Clive.

        He still remembered walking down the manor stairs one morning years before that day to find Clive sitting in the floor of the main hall, half-asleep.  He’d ridden his chocobo all the way to Port Isolde after witnessing one of Annabella’s lectures to Joshua about his duty to the Duchy.  It was scathing, or was to Clive.  He couldn’t accept that kind of burden on the brother he loved so much.  And so he’d come to ask advice of the one person he actually trusted to give it to him without a stake in anything.  He’d already been training with a sword and everyone could see he had quite a knack for it, though Clive himself would never go so far.  To him, he merely showed some small promise.  That particular morning, he needed to know one thing.  Did Byron think he could become Joshua’s Shield?  Byron’s heart cracked wide open, that conversation with his brother years earlier coming back to him.  Clive was determined, a ferocity shining in his eyes.  The decision was made.  He just needed someone to believe in him.  And Byron did.  He believed that boy could do anything he set his mind to.

        When he thought of Clive after that day, when he considered who his nephew was, that look came to mind.  He could do anything.  Despite the worry that Clive might go too far in his oath to protect Joshua, Byron was so, so proud of him the day he became First Shield.  He was proud when he took so easily to the Blessing of the Phoenix.  The most skilled First Shield they’d ever had, people said.  And though he hated everything they told him about what was meant to be their fate, Byron was proud of the man Clive had become.  He fought for what he held dear.  He fought for the world.  He looked his destiny in the eye and spat in it just as the hero of one of the books they used to read together.  But…

        Could one be proud of bringing the dead back?  Should one be proud of this?  Anything, he’d said that day.  Clive could do anything.  Never was that meant literally.  No one meant it literally.  The functioning of the world meant there were natural limits to that.  Apparently those limits meant as little to Clive as his supposed destiny as a god’s vessel, which was hard enough to get past, make no mistake.  Byron stared at his nephew, realizing that everything he was thinking was also going through Clive’s mind too.  The sheepish, hunched look was something he’d not seen in the boy since his youth.  He was worried.  Concerned about sharing this information.  Concerned about a great many things.

        Be the kind of father for him that I cannot be. 

        One glance at Elwin and Byron knew his mind was reeling with implications of another Dominant in the Duchy.  Rodney was frankly looking at Clive as one might look at the cat for bringing another mouse into the bedroom.  Clive didn’t need any of that right now.  He needed something else.  Even if Byron wasn’t exactly sure what that was, he was more than willing to give it a go.  So he finished off his wine, forced a breath in and out of his lungs, and faked the most difficult laugh of his entire life.

        “Well, the original outlaw, you say!”  He stood, dramatically slapping his palms against his knees.  “I should very much like to meet this mysterious benefactor my nephew was such friends with!”

        “You should know that he is not alone,” Clive said softly, making no move to stand.

        “The more the merrier, I say!  Who has he brought along?”

        “His daughter Mid, for one.  She is only five summers, I think, but she will be the greatest engineer of our age one day.  She’s a mind like no other.”  Byron would be lying if he said the thought of another little one around didn’t make him a bit excited.  “And one other.  His greatest regret when I knew him was being unable to save a certain woman when he left Waloed.  He changed that this time.”

        “His daughter and a lady friend, then.  Perfect!”  Ready to get things moving, he headed towards the door.

        “Uncle, wait!”  Clive was standing now, seemingly spurred to motion by the possibility of things moving faster than he was ready.  “The woman is Benedikta Harman.”  He’d heard that name somewhere before.  Where was it?  “Garuda’s Dominant.”  Byron blinked at him.  Then decided the bigger news had already been said.

        “Well, then, should we not give her a proper welcome?”

        “Byron, please, contain yourself a moment,” Elwin said, stopping him once again before he could reach the door.  “Five of the eight.  We currently have five of the eight Dominants sitting in Rosalith?”

        “I would say four of the seven since only those here know of me, but yes.  Father, they are not here because they are Dominants.  I understand that still matters to the rest of the world, but I would like to think us above that.  Please, might you welcome a dear friend instead?  Let the world sort itself out this time.”

        “I’m still working on the fact it is your friend,” Rodney murmured.  Byron smiled to himself.  Clive never treated anyone like they were beneath him.  The only lesson he needed was that no one was above him either.  Somewhere in the midst of that terrible future, he’d learned that lesson.

        “Of course, son.  I know that.  I merely wish these sudden revelations of yours had truly ceased.”

        “Believe me, I do as well.”

        “Oh,” Jill murmured softly.  “I forgot to remind Clive that Byron was here as well.”

        “And who might that be?” Cid asked, watching Benna play with Mid on the other side of the room.  He was certain she was trying to give them some space.

        “Clive’s uncle.  He is a boisterous man with a large heart and enough cunning to make his own way without the Rosfield name.  He will undoubtedly be joining Father if they are together.  He would never want to miss this.”  Cid cocked an eyebrow in her general direction.

        Father, eh?

        Oh, how he wanted to ask after that hug between her and Clive, not to mention Mid’s comments after.  But he held his thoughts to himself.  He already knew a lot happened after he left.  It was…alright, it was sweet.  Endearing even.  They deserved their happiness, even if it was a little shocking to see how open they were with it now.  Last he knew they could hardly bear to look at one another too long without blushing.  He’d thought them hopeless fools at the time.  He glanced over at Benna.  Yeah, he was glad they figured it out.

        “Meeting the whole family in one go, then?”  That was easier than asking the question outright.

        “Very likely, yes.”  He picked up his drink, some of the same cider he’d snuck into Stonhyrr not so long ago.  Might as well get all the awkward introductions over with now.  “Cid?  I always wondered and never felt right asking.  Where is Mid’s mother in all this?”

        “No idea.  I always guessed dead.  Father, too.”

        “What?”  She looked up at him with wide eyes.

        “Never told you?  Mid isn’t mine, technically speaking.  Found her alone and starving in an abandoned village as an infant.  Didn’t look like there was anyone around nor had there been for days.  Best I could figure they were dead in the woods.  Never did find out.  When it didn’t look like anyone was coming for her, I took her with me.  Not looking forward to telling her that again.  Spent the better part of a year trying to come up with ways to find out what happened to them.”

        “She’s so much like you I never would have known.”

        “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

        “It was,” she smiled. 

        There it was again, a smile that reached those grey eyes of hers.  It kept catching him off-guard the way she and Clive both actually smiled.  He understood, he really did.  They had both been so broken, so close to letting the winds carry their disintegrating sense of self to all corners of the world.  More than once he thought that he’d only barely saved either of them.  They acted like real people around the hideaway as much as they could, but everyone knew it was just that: an act.  Got a little better after their trip to Phoenix Gate.  Still, the only time he saw real life in either of them was when they were together.  Now they didn’t need that tether to humanity.  They’d both found it for themselves somewhere down the road.

        “If you’ve something to say, I would love to hear it,” she quipped, just barely taking her eyes off Mid and Benna.  He hadn’t realized he’d been staring.

        “Sorry about that.  Thinking how different the two of you are.”

        “It wasn’t easy clawing our way back to humanity,” she said, apparently guessing exactly what he’d been thinking.

        “Didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

        “Actually, I’m glad you did, in a way.”  Jill turned toward him, leaning in like she had a secret.  “I know Clive is happy to see you, but I fear he will begin questioning what he may have done to cause it.  Help me keep in line, would you?  You know how much he takes these things to heart.”

        “Still thinks he has to bear the weight of everything alone, does he?”

        “Not so much as he did.  It took me giving him Shiva and Joshua yelling at him for it to finally sink in that we would help if he would only let us.  In this case, I believe there could be some plausibility in thinking he was more the how of it than the why, but he will overthink it.  I guarantee that.”

        “Hm.  Ironic, that.  Destined to be a god’s vessel and instead becomes one for a sentient Eikon bent on seeing things set right.  Thought the Phoenix would’ve at least had the decency to ask first.”

        “Or perhaps he didn’t have to.  Joshua’s Eikon given to Clive.  Were they all sentient, who would know us better than the ones who live within us?” 

        That was an interesting thought.  He picked up his cider again, allowing his mind to follow that trail.  Ramuh, were he sentient, could potentially know everything about him.  Likes, dislikes, secrets he kept from others, secrets he didn’t acknowledge within himself.  Would it be another person he carried at that point?  If the Eikon might know all his innermost desires, was there any real separating man and Eikon?  Where would one end and the other begin?  Would Ramuh love Benna?  Would he think Mid his daughter?  Would Jill and Clive be friends?  He had always despised the way Barnabas sometimes called him by his Eikon’s name, but in this particular thought puzzle, there would be little reason not to.  Cid and Ramuh would for all intents and purposes be one and the same.  If that were the case, though, then how would the Phoenix act on its own?  If it had enough sense of self to send them all back in time (and he was not even going to begin imagining how the hell that could be done), Cid was pretty sure that particular desire wasn’t something that would ever cross Joshua’s mind or Clive’s.  Maybe intent, then?  The desire to be together and the Phoenix found a way to make that happen for them?  Then again, if that were the case, why save Rosaria and the people who loved it, as they had said? 

        “I’m beginning to think this was easier to deal with in Stonhyrr,” he muttered, much to Jill’s amusement. 

        “We’ve found it best not to think on it too hard most of the time, though Joshua loves to torment Clive with it.”

        “Of course he does.  He’s a little brother.  It’s what we do best.” 

        Cid heard a whispered question from Jill that got lost in the sound of the door opening.  Clive stepped in followed by three older men, one of whom looked exactly like him.  That apple definitely didn’t fall far from the tree.  Joshua must have taken strongly after his mother.  Cid stood, admittedly a little unsure how this should go.  What kind of meeting were they having here?  Formal or informal?  Dominant or friend?  Potential threat or potential ally?  Try though they might to hide it, they were obviously thinking the same thing.  And then he realized he was overthinking the entire affair.  He was tired of politics, secrets, skulking, and hiding.

        “Blimey, Clive.  Never knew your mother had no hand in your looks.”  Clive spluttered a bit, naturally not knowing what to say.

        “If you think he looks like me, you should have seen his grandfather.  I could swear them one and the same.”  The man who could only be Clive’s father stepped forward, arm outstretched.  “Lord Telamon, then?  Welcome to Rosalith.”

        “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace,” he replied, taking the hand. 

        “I will have none of that from the man who saved my children.  Elwin will more than suffice.”

        “Ah, good.  Already tired of formal nonsense.  Name’s Cid.  This here is my daughter Mid and Benedikta Harman.”  Elwin took Benna’s hand, if slightly more warily, then bent to take Mid’s gently before standing.

        “Allow me to introduce my brother, Byron, and our Lord Commander, Rodney Murdoch.”  Byron was far more animated than any of them, instantly pulling Cid into an awkward hug that he was completely unprepared for.  The man was stronger than he’d expected.

        “The original outlaw!  I do hope you forgive me for saying I can see it far easier in you than my nephew.  To think, sweet little Jill and Clive being the good boy he always was, deemed an outlaw!  I nearly couldn’t believe it when they told me.”  Cid leaned around Byron to shoot a look at Clive.

        “Does everyone in this bloody castle know?  How the hell did you ever keep the hideaway a secret?”  Clive actually snickered.

        “I did say we were more free with our situation.  Only two others know out of necessity, one of which is a physicker.  We thought it wise in case there were complications we did not expect.”

        “Wise, maybe, but how many does that make?  Seven years and I only told Benna a few weeks ago.  You just spilled to everyone!”

        “How else do you think we were going to prepare Rosaria for what was to come?  We would get nowhere without support.”

        “See, that I get.  Network needs players.  This isn’t exactly a simple state secret, Clive.  Don’t you think you’re being a little careless?”

        “You say you understand, but last I checked the only solid ally you had in your network was Martha and sometimes I questioned that.”

        “Eh?”  Clive crossed his arm across his stomach and rested the other arm on it, raising a finger to make a point.

        “Quinten was always determined never to give you a bed and barely agreed to a bit of the floor.”  He raised another finger.  “You weren’t sure the Dame would even speak to us because of something you never elaborated on,” one more finger, “and L’ubor was such a mystery Otto didn’t even know his name.  I ran through Dalimil for two days trying to find some mystery contact we’d little idea how to find.”

        “So just like that you rebuilt all of it?” Cid asked.  There was no way he’d managed to pull all those people together.  It just couldn’t be done, not for a lack of trying.  Every time he did something that tugged one a little closer to his cause, another pulled away. 

        “Yes,” Clive replied like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Cid stared.

        “Seriously?”

        “Quite.  And a few others as well.” 

        “Huh.  Well then.”  Guess it could be done after all.  Leave it to the little lordling who was apparently more charming than he knew.  Mid suddenly laughed beside him.

        “You’re funny, Uncle Clive!”  Clive himself froze stiff at the words.  Mid didn’t notice, continuing to laugh and reaching up for Cid’s hand. 

        “Uncle, is it?” he asked as he picked her up.  She nodded emphatically.  No one would be dissuading her from this title.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Clive look away trying to hide a smile.  The room got a little quiet in the awkward amusement of her sudden decision until Byron took it upon himself to fill that silence. 

        “That reminds me,” he said, stepping up to Mid as he held her.  “I have something for you, little lady.”

        “Really?”

        “I do.”  He produced a rose from somewhere, cut short for her small fingers.

        “Oh, a flower,” she said with obvious disappointment.

        “Mid, that’s not what you say to a gift,” Cid chastised her.  Byron, unperturbed, winked at him.

        “I hear you like machines.  Is that right?”  Mid nodded.  “Then let me show you something.  Flowers are not so unlike the machines you love.  Machines only work because of numbers, you know.  Many calculations have to be done before it will work.  Flowers have their own calculations.  Take this rose.  In the center is a single petal and a single petal in the next row.  But that’s where it becomes interesting.  Every row of petals has a number equal to the two rows before it.  Two in the third, three in the fourth, five in the fifth.  Every rose will always bloom the same way.”

        “They do?” she asked, now fascinated by the flower. 

        “Every single one.  Nature’s own machines.”

        “Thank you…” she whispered in awe of the gift.  Byron was all smiles watching her count the petals.  “Can we go look at more flowers, Dad?”

        “Later, my lovely.  It’s getting late.  I’ve a feeling, though, that Byron here would be all too happy to count flowers with you too.”  He looked up at the man, who nodded.  Excitable as he was, he’d planned something to bring to Cid’s young daughter.  The man loved children, there was no missing that.  Clive never talked about others his age.  Because they didn’t exist or Clive barely did at the time, Cid wasn’t sure.  He got the distinct impression, though, that this uncle would love nothing more than to dote on a child in whatever way that meant.  Mid smiled at the thought of having two people who would explore with her.

        “Can we go tomorrow?”  The question broke off around a yawn.

        “Let’s just see what we can do when we get there,” Cid answered.

        “Allow me to have some rooms arranged for you,” Elwin announced.  “You are free to stay here as long as you like.  Rest.  There will be plenty of time for talk at another time.”  A stray smirk crossed his lips.  “And the gardens are yours to roam, little one.”

Chapter Text

        Benedikta looked around the room the Archduke had provided for her.  Someone, be it him or someone else, had decided to give her a room apart from Cid.  She found she hadn’t truly known if she wanted her own room or not.  Cid still meant the world to her but after learning about everything, she almost felt like she shouldn’t let him know.  Like…like…  She didn’t know.  He was the same man he always was.  There was nothing in his behavior that changed a bit that she could tell.  She remembered the day he said he woke up here.  The only bizarre part about it was that he looked at her like she shouldn’t be there.  Of course at the time she just assumed it a byproduct of whatever had knocked him unconscious to begin with and thought little of it.  That was so long ago and not one single time did she think there something different.  That meant the man she wanted to be near was always the one from some bygone era.  But he also never told her.  Even that she couldn’t be upset about knowing what she’d done.  He had to know she was ready, that Barnabas hadn’t seized her.  She understood.  She did!  So why was she secretly glad now that she had her own room?  They hadn’t discussed much of anything important since the night he made his little revelation and that had been weeks ago now.  And she knew it was because she hadn’t brought it up. 

        Stretching out across her bed, she took out the box with the puzzle she’d bought for Cid.  She was so excited about it this afternoon.  Then she watched him with his friends and froze when she had the opportunity.  It wasn’t that she didn’t still want to give it to him, just…  The longer she watched, the more it felt like she wasn’t a part of his world at all.  Was she that jealous of his attention?  That would make her as bad as Barnabas.  It was hard to know where she fit.  This wouldn’t be easy, she’d known that when she chose to continue along with Cid.  He’d promised her a place where she could be free.  Already she felt that here.  She could see this as a place where she could perhaps find herself and find where she might belong.  The rest might just take a little longer.

        Ugh, she didn’t want to think about this right now.  Instead she turned her attention back to the room.  It was warm.  Everything about it was.  There was something different than the guest rooms in Stonhyrr that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.  Rosalith was so full of life; maybe that extended to the palace as well.  Maybe it was as simple as the fact that a family lived here, not just an archduke and his heir.  It was almost tangible in the air as soon as she walked through the doors.  Then again, maybe she was overthinking this and it was simply the warm colors and soft bed.  Either way, she liked it.  Perhaps a little overzealous in the amount of red, but she liked it all the same. 

        “Lady Harman?”  A soft, muffled call accompanied a hesitant knock on the door.  Setting the box on the bedside table, she opened the door a crack, surprised to see Joshua standing there with head hanging like a kicked puppy.  “I hope I did not wake you.”

        “You didn’t.”

        “Might we speak?  I fully understand if you would not wish to permit it after my horrendous behavior this afternoon.  Or if you would feel more at ease with someone else present.”

        “No, it’s alright.  Come in.”  She stepped to the side and allowed him to enter before shutting the door.  Surely he wasn’t here to apologize.  Clive had said he would but she frankly hadn’t believed him.  Joshua did not move far from the door when he entered, still looking at the ground.  If she had to give it a name, either apologetic or ashamed would be apt.

        “I would like to apologize for that greeting,” he said quietly, much to her surprise.  “While I could easily tell you precisely why it happened, it is absolutely no excuse for my lack of thought.  Had I paused for but a moment to think this would not have been such an issue.  I am terribly sorry for that as well as for frightening you.” 

        The young man actually bowed his head lower.  She felt bad for him.  Sure, she’d been scared in the moment, not knowing what was happening and with Mid right behind her.  She would have fought tooth and claw if need be to protect her.  Just like she was certain Joshua would have done the same for Jote.  It didn’t take long for that realization to hit her.  Jote had barely left the room when it did.  In light of it she could hold nothing against him.  She’d done nothing to warrant it.  It was that other version of her that had. 

        “You need not do that,” she said gently.

        “I fear I very much do.”  Sensing as much stubbornness in him as in everyone else she’d met in this castle, she slowly walked over to place one finger underneath his chin and push his head upward.

        “You don’t.”  His throat bobbed nervously when he swallowed but he at least relaxed a tiny bit when she moved away again.  Didn’t want to scare him too much, after all.  “I hurt her, didn’t I?  That other version of me?”  He sucked in a surprised breath.

        “You know of that?”

        “Cid told me what he knew.  Unfortunately that didn’t cover what else may have happened in the Caer.  It would seem you alone hold that answer.”  Joshua sighed.

        “That is still no excuse.”

        “Maybe not.  Do you need an excuse if I do not hold it against you, though?”

        “What do you mean?”

        “You were protecting her.  I was protecting Mid.  That is little different in my mind.  I know what I would do for those I love.  I imagine you are little different.  How could I hold it against you for thinking I could possibly hurt someone you care for again?”

        “I fear you are being far too gracious, Lady Harman.”

        “Benna.”  He almost jumped at the suggestion that he use her name, and her nickname at that.  She found herself enjoying the sound of it, especially here, even though she once despised the name Cid gave her.  In a way it felt like a separation of who these people knew her as and who she now was.  Or perhaps who she wanted to be.

        “I think I need to earn the right for that.  Lady Harman.”

        “A compromise then.  Call me Benedikta.  Please.”

        “If you insist,” he mumbled.

        “At least until you think you’ve earned it.”  Even her real name would be better than Lady Harman all the time.  Hm.  That was what most in Stonyrr called her.  Why did it feel so bizarre to hear it in Rosalith?  Deliberately she turned her back to him to walk over to her bedframe and lean back against the wooden post, arms behind her back.  “Did this other version of me hurt her terribly?”

        “Yes.  No!  I…  This cannot be a comfortable thing to hear about.”

        “Not really,” she shrugged.  “It will not become comfortable unless we address it.”  He eyed her a moment before leaning back on the door and crossing his arms.

        “It would have been a problem if not for my talents,” he whispered after a while.  Well, that was progress. 

        “Ah.  I’d heard the Phoenix could heal.  I wasn’t certain it was true.”

        “It is.  Though…”  Benna winced when he trailed off.  She liked it here in Rosalith, at least so far.  She didn’t want the first thing she did here to be upsetting the heir to the throne.  “Jote was adamant I explain myself,” he said haltingly.  “Yet I find I struggle with doing so.”

        “Would it help were I to hazard a guess?”  He made no motion either way, so she went for it.  Jote had mentioned something earlier that she had a feeling was relevant here.  “She told me you lost everything.  As far as you knew, she was the one person left to you in this rotten world, wasn’t she?  And I hurt her badly enough to require the Phoenix?”  He mumbled something she didn’t quite catch.  “What was that?”

        “To get to me,” he repeated only marginally louder.

        “That old strategy.”  Her mind went back to their escape from Stonhyrr.  The king had been all too willing to hurt either she or Cid to get to the other.  She didn’t like that feeling, being used or manipulated like that.  Apparently this other version of herself hadn’t agreed.  “I would suspect there is little I could say that would ease that now.  I do rather like your girl, though.  For whatever it might be worth.”  When he looked up finally she could see traces of confusion in his eyes but he swiftly covered it.

        “Her feeling is mutual.  And as Jote has ever been an excellent judge of character, I am compelled to rectify this if I am able.  Would you tell me of yourself, B-Benedikta, that I might replace old memories with new?”  The way he stumbled over her name was adorable.  Honestly she could see what Jote saw in him.  Pushing herself off the bed post, she casually took a seat by the fire, gesturing to the other seat on the way.  He took a couple steps forward and stopped, seeming to be uncomfortable with the idea.

        “What would you like to know?  That I was sold as a child by my parents and was nearly branded when Garuda woke?  Most thought I was a Bearer in hiding until Cid saved me.  He taught me, well, everything really.  I would not be here today if not for him in more ways than one.  I love the color green, despite most of my clothes being black, and I hate plums with a passion.”  Joshua almost smiled.  Almost.

        “Do you miss Stonhyrr?”  He took another few steps forward without seeming to notice.

        “I miss the waves crashing against the rocks outside the castle.  I miss the constant breeze that came with them.  But no, I do not miss Stonhyrr.  There was little to miss.  Barnabas had been sending staff away somewhere I never knew for a long time and Cid encouraged those left to flee before they were caught up in it.  Most days it felt as if only the five of us lived there.”

        “That sounds lonely.”

        “It would have been were it not for Cid and Mid.  The corridors and empty rooms seemed less abandoned whenever they were near.”  Finally, Joshua actually smiled.

        “Mid’s enthusiasm was rather jolting when first we met.  I…”  A glance up, a decision she could see, and he took the seat she’d offered him earlier.  “I do not know what I was thinking when we met.  She was in Kanver with Uncle Byron and a friend when we got word the city was under attack by hordes of akashic brought by Tharmr.  They were all safe, thank the Founder, but when Clive introduced us, I must have forgotten everything he had told me about his band of outlaws and the ways in which they behaved.  Had I remembered I surely would have known Midadol would detest my attempt to greet her as a lady at court.  That might have been the first time in a long, long time anyone had introduced themselves to me without standing or Eikons.  I was Clive’s brother, no more and no less.”  A soft smile tugged at his lips with the memory.  It suited him

        “Your uncle made a similar blunder just a short while ago.  He offered her a rose.”  Joshua laughed and she followed, rather proud she’d managed to crack through his regret.  “She was quite disappointed until he told her something of numbers and petals.  Now she is all too eager to explore the gardens looking for more.”

        “She is, or will be, a brilliant engineer, outstripping her own father in no time.”

        “That is a tall order, you know.”

        “I do,” he replied with a knowing grin.  Benedikta had no real problem imagining Mid following in her father’s footsteps like that, but she would very much like to know just what she accomplished.  Whatever it was, she was proud of her already.  “Forgive me, I fear I’ve kept you long enough.  You must be tired.  It is no short distance from Stonhyrr.”

        “No, it isn’t.”  Joshua rose from his seat, preparing to leave, when a sudden thought crossed her mind.  A question he may be willing to answer for her at the moment.  “Joshua.”  He stopped and it occurred to her that he never said she could use his name.  He didn’t seem to mind, though.  “Might I ask you a strange question?”

        “If I’ve an answer, yes.”

        “None here have made any mention that I am Garuda.  Not even now as we were speaking of old wounds.  Why is that?”  It had started with the guard at the gate, but it was bothering her.  Everyone she’d met this afternoon knew precisely who she was.  Not one ever mentioned her Eikon.  The fact that Joshua looked at her with confusion wasn’t helping her figure it out.

        “Because you are not.”  He shrugged like this were the most natural thing in the world.  “You are Benedikta.  Garuda is merely along for the ride.  Sleep well.  And, thank you.  For indulging me.”

        He slipped the door closed behind him leaving her staring in stunned fascination at the space he’d occupied.  Barnabas and Sleipnir had sometimes called her Garuda.  She’d thought little of it until the night they ran.  Until Cid explained everything to her.  Despite knowing that, she’d grown accustomed to all knowing she was a Dominant, to “Benedikta” being synonymous with “Garuda”.  People stepped one extra step around her, bowed their heads a fraction lower.  She looked up at the ceiling, marveling at the reality of this castle.  Nearly every Dominant now sat under this very roof.  Only three remained.  And no one cared.  No one cared because here, it didn’t matter that she held Garuda.  It didn’t matter that she’d once been an enemy.  This was exactly what Cid had promised her, every impossible ounce and then some.  If only she knew what to do with it.

        The next morning Benedikta was woken with insistent knocking on her door that she quickly recognized.  No one else in the Twins knocked as furiously as Mid in the mornings when no one else was quite ready to stir.  Although from the sun peaking through the curtains, perhaps it was past time she was out of bed.

        “Just a minute!” she called.

        “Beeennaaaa…” Mid immediately whined. 

        A smile forced its way onto her lips as she slid out of bed and put her clothes on.  Her hand paused halfway to her rapier.  Perhaps this wasn’t the place to keep it on hand.  After their conversation last night she was fairly certain Joshua would be alright and there seemed to be nothing to worry about from anyone else.  Still, she was a guest in another domain’s castle.  Guards would be more alert and the last thing she wanted was to cause anyone else problems or pain.  Ignoring the awkward absence it left on her hip, she left it propped against the wall.  Right before she opened the door, she hurried over to her bedside table to grab the gift she bought, not really knowing if this would be the time or not. 

        Mid was directly in front of the door when she opened it, precisely where Benna knew she would be.  The girl was all smiles and excitement.  Behind her Cid leaned against the banister with his arms crossed.  His swords were also missing and while she understood why she’d made the decision, she suddenly realized: never, absolutely never, was he without his swords in Stonhyrr.  They were as much a part of him as his hand.  He looked up at her shyly and she had no idea why.  When had he ever looked shy around her?  It simply wasn’t his way.  While cute, it didn’t suit him.  He was far more brash than that and she loved that about him.

        “Morning Benna!” Mid said excitedly, demanding to be the first she acknowledged.  Benna had to drag her eyes away from the strange image of this version of Cid. 

        “Good morning, Mid.”

        “They made breakfast for us!  Let’s go!”  The girl naturally ran down the hall assuming everyone else would follow simply because she demanded it.

        “Slow down, Mid!” Cid called to her.  “We don’t run in other people’s homes.”

        “Oh, right.”  Still several feet ahead of them, she slowed to a walk.  Not that Benna expected it to last long.

        “Sleep well?” Cid asked her quietly, letting Mid practically escort them down the hall.  Without his swords to rest his arm on, he held one wrist in the other hand behind his back.

        “I did.  Better than in the mud, certainly.”

        “I should hope so,” he chuckled.  “Apparently breakfast is something they try to do together when they can around here.  Invited us in on it.  Think Mid’s a bit hungry.”

        “Can’t blame her.  She is a growing girl.  Does she have any idea where she is set to go?”  Cid laughed again.

        “Doubt it.  But you know her.  She’ll sniff out food somewhere.”

        “These friends of yours must be quite trusting to let us wander the halls unaccompanied.” 

        “I’d say they make it clear where not to go if you look at the Shields.”  Indeed, the guards were only posted at some doors or corridors.  And if she got lost, they would probably point her in the right direction.  Still, it seemed odd to her.

        The quiet between them as they walked behind Mid was a little uncomfortable.  Benedikta certainly had things she wanted to say and she got the impression Cid did too.  Neither could seem to form the words.  They watched Mid stop in front of one of the guards, who knelt to her level and pointed.  Then the child skipped off in that direction.  On their way past, the Shield saluted as if they belonged there and explained they were headed in the right direction for the dining room.  She saw his smile as they past and Cid thanked him.  No wariness nor fear.  The respect came from guests of the ruling family.  That was it.  Once again she was uncomfortable.  Did she want that extra respect back?  Or had she just grown accustomed to it?

        Laughter rang through the door to the dining room before they’d even opened it.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard such a sound in a place like this.  For that matter, when had she had a meal with people other than those walking with her?  It was certainly not something they did in Stonhyrr.  A maid opened the door for them and the laughter grew louder.  Byron was apparently in the middle of some story that had each of them laughing around bites of food.

        “Well, I told him he was being a bloody stubborn arse of a man and do you know what he said?”

        “Knowing the Field Marshal I am surprised he did not clap you in irons for the affront,” Clive commented softly.

        “You would take his side!  Of all the ungrateful things to say.  No, Eugen looked me dead in the eye and said ‘From you, I shall take that as a compliment.’  A compliment!  Blast that man!”  Clive and Jill were far more amused than the Archduke, clearly having some foreknowledge of whatever he spoke of.  Or at least a knowledge which this reminded them of.  Before he could start on another tale, Mid ran to the table, throwing herself into a chair beside Clive.

        “Uncle Clive!”  He laughed and blushed a moment at the term.  He was flustered by it yesterday as well, now that she thought about it.  Mid was friendly as they came, but she rarely took to people quite so well.  Or, she hadn’t.  Here, it seemed a trend.  Less than a day and she was already thriving.

        “Ah, there you are!” Byron announced.  “Come, come, Cid.  Benedikta.  I was just about to tell the story of how my trusty axe got its name.”

        “And which story would that be today?” Jill teased.  Cid took a seat at the edge of the table, leaving the seat beside him for Benna.  And that seat was beside Byron.  She shoved down the discomfort she felt, knowing it was only because he was so friendly.  Far more friendly than she was used to.  She shouldn’t be uncomfortable by someone being friendly, she told herself.  At the moment, though, it only served to highlight what they had all lacked in Stonhyrr.

        “Ah, Benedikta,” Byron theatrically moaned, “I do hope you will be more gracious to me than my own dear family is today.” 

        “I-I, uh…  I would like to hear that story?” she stumbled out completely unsure of what to say. 

        “That’s the spirit!” 

        He immediately launched into a tale that only partly made sense.  Some of it was her unfamiliarity with people and places he mentioned, but honestly, it sounded to her like multiple stories mixed into one.  After a few minutes, she noticed Clive and Jill speaking softly to one another rather than listening and the Archduke clearly was not listening as well.  Perhaps this had not been her most brilliant idea if they weren’t even paying attention.  And yet Byron spoke on at length about the entire thing until the door opened again and Joshua entered.  She resisted the urge to thank him for stopping something she couldn’t even follow.

        “It seems I am later than expected,” he mumbled sounding quite sleepy still.  Clive looked over at him rather intensely.  Then Joshua shook his head almost imperceptibly.  Clive returned with a quick look over his shoulder and Joshua made another tiny motion before sitting down at the end of the table.

        “No, still not used to that,” Cid muttered.  No one else paid the scene any mind except for Mid who marched straight up to Joshua’s side,  hands on hips looking angry.  Or, angry as she could.  Unfortunately for her, she was at the age where angry veered easily into adorably precious.

        “You were mean to Benna yesterday.”  Benedikta almost dropped her spoon at the accusation.  Before she could do anything to stop this, Joshua held a subtle hand out to stop anyone from doing just that.

        “I was, yes.  That was terribly unkind of me.  I hope you too will forgive me for scaring you.”  Mid squinted at him.

        “Only if you apologize to Benna first.”

        “He did last night, Mid,” she quickly interrupted.  “I forgave him.  You should too.”

        “Hmmmm.”  She peered at Joshua through exaggerated narrow eyes.  There was no way she was not deliberately dragging this show of thinking out.  “Alright.  I promised Uncle Clive I’d give you a chance if you said sorry.  So you’re safe.  For now.”  As if she hadn’t just threatened the heir to the throne, Mid waltzed back to her seat and tucked back into her breakfast, ignoring the chuckling of the Archduke.

        “Uncle now is it?” Joshua snickered toward his brother, who could only shrug.  “You know this means when she comes of age she will only have that much more sway over you for materials.”

        “Only if I cannot stockpile them first,” Clive grumbled.  He pointed at Cid.  “And you are helping this time.”

        “Gladly.”

        “You say that now,” Clive warned.  The Archduke cleared his throat.

        “Speaking of our guests.  I’ve told our staff of you and instructed them that you are to feel at home here.  If there is aught you need, you have but to ask.” 

        “That’s kind of you,” Cid answered. 

        “Do you have anything you might like to do today?” Jill asked.  The question was obviously for them both, but she addressed Benedikta specifically. 

        “Oh, um, I’d given it little thought.  I am a stranger to this side of the Twins.”

        “Think I’d just take a day of resting.”  She could hear the weariness in Cid’s voice.  “Plenty to do later, I’m sure.  Seven years with the mad king are catching up with me I think.”

        “In that case allow me to do you a favor,” Byron’s boisterous voice cut in.  “If you would permit, I would be delighted to entertain your little one for the day.”

        “Will you show me more numbers in the flowers?” Mid piped up excitedly.

        “I most certainly will!”

        “Please, Dad?”  Benedikta caught a bare nod from Clive in Cid’s direction as if to confirm that his uncle was as trustworthy as he seemed.

        “Fine by me.”  Mid leapt from her seat in joy.

        “Eat up, my lass.  You’ll need it to keep up with me today!”  Benedikta didn’t know Byron at all, but it was easy to see he was just as excited as Mid. 

        After breakfast Benna wandered the castle grounds, at Cid’s insistence.  She thought about going into the city, but decided she’d rather not do that alone just yet for fear of getting lost.  The castle and grounds were beautiful.  The people were kind.  No one made any extra effort for her, not that they didn’t make plenty already; she was just any other guest.  Who was she without her status?  Who was she without Garuda?  Everything or nothing?  Eventually her wandering took her to a balcony overlooking the back gardens.  Much of the balcony was obscured by rose trellises creeping up the sides, but one section had a view down to a pond below.  To her surprise she saw Cid and Clive sitting by that pond speaking quietly, just barely loud enough for her to overhear.

        “…never repay,” Clive said.  “You saved my life.  That day at the Nysa Defile, yes—”

        “And a few others.” 

        “And a few others,” Clive agreed without hesitation.  “Everything changed at the hideaway.  I’d always been the firstborn failure, the lord marquess, Joshua’s Shield, a Branded.  That was the first time I’d ever been only myself, consumed by rage though I was.  Without you extending your hand, I never would have let people in.  Everyone that pushed me forward I would have kept at a distance.”  Clive made a sound of annoyance and scratched the back of his neck.  “I’m trying to say thank you, Cid.  For everything.”  Cid immediately waved away his words.

        “You not only finished what I started, you saved the world while at it.  Then you brought us all back.”  Clive looked away.  “Say what you like, lad, but you were involved somehow.  No getting around that now.  I’m going to get to see my daughter grow up because of that.  I’ve got Benna with me now because of that.  Point is, I’d say we can call it even. If I gave you back your life, you returned mine to me.”

        Benna’s cheeks heated to hear Cid speaking of her to another with such fondness.  She shouldn’t be eavesdropping.  Telling herself that didn’t make her feet move, though.  This was something she’d not seen since Angeyja was swallowed by the Blight.  Cid sitting with a friend, no care nor worry.  She hadn’t realized how much he carried in recent years.  He never left his swords far from hand, eyes always darting this way and that, a preparedness for anything to spring from the shadows.  Those tendencies had crept up so slowly she hadn’t truly noticed them.  But here, he was comfortable.  Relaxed.  And it all came down to those living here.  It almost made her feel guilty that he carried so much weight, in part, for her without her ever knowing.

        “Something catch your eye?” Jill’s voice asked her, footsteps approaching on the balcony.  Benna jumped at getting caught spying, and there was no hiding it when Jill peaked around the trellis to see what she was looking at.  Instead of judgement, she only smiled softly.  “It is a wonder to see them together.”

        “They were close?”

        “They would have been.”  Jill frowned and backed away.  “Cid had a way of bringing out a part of Clive only Joshua and myself knew existed.  A playfulness Clive always hid even as children.  Until Cid, we were the only ones ever to know.”

        “I could see that of him,” she commented, returning her gaze down to the men in the garden.  It was a similar tactic Cid had used on her, finding the pieces she hid and pulling them out for all to see. 

        “Tell me if I overstep, but you sometimes look at Cid as if you don’t know him.”  Benna felt her breathing stop as the words washed over her.  That was it, the heart of her struggle that she’d been unable to name.  The reason she felt worse the longer they were here. 

        “You cut straight to the root of it, don’t you?” she murmured, pulling her eyes away from the garden and catching Jill’s gaze.  “I suppose that is what I fear.  You know a part of him I never could.”  Do I know him at all?  That was the question burrowing deep in the back of her mind that she hadn’t been able to catch.  She didn’t really want to catch it.  It was too uncomfortable when there was a very real possibility the answer was no, she didn’t. 

        “Do I know him at all?  That’s what you ask yourself, isn’t it?”  In spite of herself, Benedikta nodded.  “Clive and I were apart for thirteen years, finding each other on opposing sides of battle of all places.  I thought the same.  So much of our lives were spent apart.  Neither of us were the same people anymore.  Every so often, I would see the boy I grew up with.  Beneath it all pieces of him still survived.  I did still know him.  I didn’t know him.  The parts I did kept me returning to his side while I learned the parts I did not.  I’m certain it was the same for him.”

        “That could not have been easy.” 

        “It wasn’t.  Years of work, effort, conversations, and overcoming a great deal of trauma we often still struggle with today.  But it was worth it.”  Benedikta looked back down at Cid.  He was laughing at something Clive said.  The sight brought a smile to her face.

        “He looks so carefree.”

        “You would know better than we.  True, we all share that history with Cid, even Joshua though they never met.  Yet it was you with him the last seven years.  That would not cease because he found his way here.”

        Jill was absolutely right.  Benedikta was the one he took to festivals and wandered markets with.  It was she who he looked for at night and she who waited for him.  Suddenly she felt very foolish for questioning her place with him.  Stonhyrr was a distant memory the moment she took flight.  What she missed, aside from ocean waves, she could still have.  Her most treasured memories, every one of them, involved Cid.  Or Mid, naturally.  That didn’t just go away.  This man had entrusted her with his greatest secret, a secret that implicated not only himself.  Had he been wrong about her, everything here that she already enjoyed, could have vanished before she ever saw it.  What more did she need?  She didn’t lose anything here.  She gained everything.

        “That is the look of someone who has come to a realization,” Jill said with a smile.  “Glad I could help.”

        “You did.  Thank you, Jill.  Could I ask a favor?  After dinner, could you watch after Mid for a while?”  There was something Cid needed to know, and it was long overdue.

        Once dinner was finished, everyone went their separate ways.  Clive and Jill took Mid into town to see someone, Joshua and Elwin had some papers they needed to finish and Byron had letters that needed written.  That left only Cid and Benedikta, and she darted off before he could even glance her way.  This was all proving a little bit jarring for her.  She didn’t seem to know what to do with any of it.  Everything she looked at he could see the disbelief she tried to hide.  Maybe he’d been too eager to get here.  Maybe they should have taken their time, let her see more of Storm before escorting her straight into exactly what he promised.  Benna could do anything here, Cid was certain of that.  She just needed the space to figure it out first.

        If he was honest, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing he was left to his own devices.  There was an exhaustion deep down in his bones that he’d been ignoring for years now, put there by years of risking it all under Barnabas’ nose.  Now that he was among friends, well, the safety made that exhaustion difficult to ignore.  In fact it was rather adamant about being addressed.  One day rekindling a friendship wasn’t going to fix this.  And that said nothing of his own questions about Benedikta.  He wanted her to be free and find her path, true.  He desperately wanted that for her.  But the very real question he had been trying very hard not to think about was threatening to break free: would her choice include him?

        After a while of roaming and appreciating the little details of the castle, Cid made his way back to the room he shared with Mid.  She would still be out with Clive and Jill for a while.  After such an exciting day, even she would be exhausted by the time she returned.  Good a time as any to take stock for a moment, he supposed.  Or, perhaps not.  When he pushed the door open, Benna was waiting for him.  He had to bite back his smile at the sight of her.  Deep down, he always opened his door hoping she would be there back in Waloed.  To see her here now, it sparked a little bit of hope.

        “Everything alright, Benna?” he asked as calmly as he could, trying not to betray fear or hope in equal measure.  He thought he did a pretty good job.

        “I think so.”  Benna stood.  Out of habit he reached for his swords before remembering he’d not been wearing them all day. 

        “I don’t know when Mid will be back,” he said instead.  Why did he say that?  And why the hell was he nervous?

        “She won’t be for a while.  Jill promised me that.”  His heart skipped a beat to realize she’d planned this.  He swallowed thickly as she stepped closer to him.  “Cid, I…”  She hesitated, searching his eyes for answers or searching for words, he wasn’t sure.

        “Ready to do this, then, are we?” he said quietly.  They’d have to talk eventually.

        She nodded without taking her eyes off his.  Abandoning words altogether she practically glided across the floor to get within reach.  Then she placed a gentle hand on his chest, sliding it up over his throat and stroking her fingers over his cheek, pausing there a moment before moving them up to smooth his hair.  Those fingers traveled back, leaving tingles in their wake, to the back of his neck.  So enraptured by her every movement it took very little pressure for her message to be conveyed.  Cid bent his head down closer.  The moment she could reach her lips were on his, taking his breath in surprise despite the fact he’d a pretty good idea where this was going.  She kissed him gently once, twice, three times and he could swear the only thing he was capable of moving at that moment was his lips.  Unsatisfied with that option, Benna’s free hand grabbed his arm, moving it low around her waist.  He grabbed hold reflexively, pulling her even closer.  Firm hands kept him fixed precisely where she wanted him, not that it took much.

        “I love you.  I love all of you.”  It was all she said, hazel eyes unwaveringly fixed on his.  It was all she needed to say.  So few words and he knew. 

        Benna pressed one more soft, reassuring kiss to his lips.  The kiss was a knife to the last remaining weight dragging him down, the last fear he had in this endeavor.  Cid leaned into her soft kiss more forcefully than he ever dared dream.  Benna tightened her fingers around him and moaned in appreciation.  It only served to spur him on further.  Needy exchanges grew more rough, his tongue chasing hers, she nipping his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood.  Cid didn’t remember moving until they both jolted to a stop when Benna’s knees hit the side of the bed.  He tore himself away from her, finding her staring up through heavily lidded eyes, lips swollen and breathing heavy. 

        “I love you,” she whispered again, but she untangled his arms from around her to separate herself.  “Do not move.”  He wanted to catch her as she walked to the door, confusion spreading through him.  Until he heard the click of the lock.  Cid could swear it was the old Benedikta when she turned around the way she stalked toward him.  “It seems my volatile polearm has been carrying a great deal of undue stress for far too long,” she purred as she walked.  Little more than a finger on his chest was enough to press him into sitting.  Easily as if she’d done it a hundred times, she straddled his lap. 

        “And what is a bloody harpy going to do about it?” he managed to tease in a strained whisper.  Benna smiled wider and answered instead with her lips.

        Benedikta could honestly now say that there was little in this world better than waking up beside someone you loved.  Cid’s breathing was still slow while he slept, arm half around her.  She’d dreamt of this for a long time.  It didn’t compare to the reality.  This man was hers.  He’d always been hers, hadn’t he?  Even before she knew it.  The night he told her the story and what he knew, he also said he’d left her behind.  It caused him no shortage of regret, but, he said, by the time he realized there was trouble, she was too far in Barnabas’ grip to free.  She wouldn’t leave everything she wanted for freedom and he knew it.  That hurt.  The thought of him abandoning her pierced her to the core.  But that was quickly mended thinking about everything he did to fix it.  She was his greatest mistake no longer.  Now she was his greatest victory.  Or, second greatest.  Mid should probably come first and Benna was just fine with that. 

        It was strange how much younger he looked now.  Would that remain when he woke?  Or was that simply because he was sleeping?  She’d fallen asleep in his rooms plenty of times over the years, so she was inclined to think it something else.  Whatever it was, there was a weight and a permanent frown no longer present.  It made her smile to think she may have been the one to remove it.     She traced a small scar on his shoulder, then another barely visibly scar on his abdomen that was mostly hidden by the blanket.  Finally she laid a hand on his heart, content to feel it pulse beneath her.  That was where his biggest scar would be.  Between old memories and new, the strain it put on him would not be easily put aside.  Cid had always helped with her intangible scars; now it was her turn to help ease his.  His breathing suddenly deepened and he stirred beneath her hand.  Arm finding her once again and keeping her where he wanted, he groggily opened his eyes to find hers.

        “And here I’d half convinced myself that was all a dream,” he muttered.

        “Never a dream again, my love.”  Cid laughed sleepily.

        “Suppose I could get used to it.”  His arm tightened around her again, but she pushed back with a finger held up.  She rolled over to the pile of her clothing to dig out the box she’d been carrying around.

        “I have something for you.  A gift.”  Cid rubbed his eyes and pushed himself onto one arm.  She watched excitedly as he opened the box.  The silver and amethyst trinket really did suit him perfectly.

        “’Fraid you’ll have to explain this one, my dear.”

        “It’s a puzzle.  The shopkeeper says when solved, it becomes a wrist cuff.”

        “Some assembly required, then?” he chuckled, turning the object over in his hands. 

        “I got it from a shop that doesn’t use much magic.  And a Bearer sold it to me.  I never imagined a place like this could exist, Cid.  It should be impossible.  Yet it is everything and more you promised me.  I do not know what happens next or what I will do with the freedom you sacrificed so much to give me.  But I do know that this is the first day of finding out with you beside me.  I suppose this is a token of that.”  For the first time she could remember, Cid looked a loss for words.  He turned the puzzle over in his hands a few times, smiled, and pulled her back down to lay on his chest.

        “I love you, too.”  It was all he needed to say.

        No one was blaming them for the late morning when they finally did crawl out of bed.  Although both were somewhat wishing they’d done so a bit earlier.  Word around the castle was that the lord marquess and Lady Warrick had brought a certain little girl back from town still quite full of energy.  Just an hour before Cid and Benedikta left the room, the three were all found in a quite sturdy blanket fort in the reception hall with Torgal.  According to the maid who found them, Mid was curled up alongside the wolf while Clive and Jill were tucked into each other as if they belonged there, and the entire affair was the immediate talk of the castle.

Chapter Text

        The heart of the Mothercrystal never failed to give Dion chills.  He was set to depart for Belenus Tor at first light.  The fact this was happening years too soon had him more than a little unsettled and considering several actions as insurance, most of which were unwise at the present time.  What was Tharmr’s goal here?  He completely bypassed the Battle of the Twin Realms.  Did he know?  Waloed lost that battle.  Could he be jumping ahead to something he knew he would win?  Well, Dion couldn’t allow that to happen this time.  Even if they couldn’t get reinforcements, Tharmr could not be allowed a foothold.  Dion must hold him there.  To do that, he would most likely need Bahamut just as his father said he would.  Was he ready?

        Once and only once had he primed since arriving here.  He’d used his authority to clear the temple surrounding the Mothercrystal, much as he had today, to ensure he could still prime.  Bahamut answered him as easily as ever.  The hesitation Dion still felt came solely from himself.  He didn’t feel ready to play the role.  Or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say he wanted to play the role differently.  To call on Bahamut as he chose this time rather than be guided and used as a weapon.  He wanted to be someone of worth without his Eikon.  It was working, in large part.  The pressures now came only from those in the highest seats, his father among them, who still thought him Sanbreque’s greatest weapon.  In short, those with the most to lose without it.  That only made him dig his heels in even further.  Now he likely had no choice: be who all expected or allow the wasteland Ash would become to begin in Sanbreque as well.  He came into this second chance at life already tired of being a weapon.  A soldier he could accept but not that.  Not when he knew from where that weapon came.

        He could admit some pride in what he had accomplished here over the years.  It could never compare to Rosaria, few places could, and Sanbreque had further to go than most.  All knew how he despised the mistreatment of Bearers by now and some of that change had crept into the behaviors of others.  Very, very slowly he was beginning to change some minds.  Dion was not the crusader the denizens of the hideaway were for the rights of Bearers.  He would continue doing things the slow way, from the top down where he could be of the most use.  But once he recognized the hypocrisy between Bearers and Dominants, he could not carry on as if he were anything more than an overly powerful Bearer.  Many times he’d wondered how he never saw the comparison before.  Then again, no one did.  There was an impenetrable wall between those two stations that none thought to look too long at lest the stability of an entire civilization be undone.  Now, though, he wouldn’t stand in the way of crumbling it.  He knew too much to remain passive forever.

        Oh how he wanted to shatter it here and now.  The greatest lie ever fed humanity standing as a god right in front of them all.  How he wished to deprive Ultima of just that much aether for his plans.  White-hot rage burned deep inside at the thought of that so-called god.  The one responsible for everything.  Dion stepped up the dais to the heart, laying a hand on its smooth surface.  He could do it.  He could start the process right now.  He played Ultima’s puppet too many years and had no intention of doing so again.  The hearts were easy to break with Eikonic power, or so he’d been told.  One strike and he could cast off those chains around both himself and Sanbreque to step into the new world they must see for themselves.

        Dion sighed, hand falling back to his side.  If he did so now, the empire would fall to chaos.  His father would push toward the Dominion and it all would begin again.  It wasn’t time yet.  Once a Mothercrystal was shattered, there was no going back.  He needed to be certain of their course first, assuming he was correct that someone in Rosaria had also returned.  Hopefully, though, Dion could do that deed himself one day, just to prove to himself that he could.  Treating Bearers humanely was an insignificant step compared to casting off the Mothercrystals.

        “One day,” he vowed quietly.  One day he would tear this lie to the ground.  For now, he had a Dominant king to defeat and he could not leave his people seemingly wanting while he was doing it.

        “The dragoons await your command, your highness,” Terence announced.  The morning air was crisp on his skin as he surveyed those who would follow him into battle.  Some were supremely talented with little experience.  Others were veterans prepared to give all.  Dion had selected each member of his battalion personally.  Not all were originally a part of the Holy Order of Knights Dragoon.  They needed the power, drive, and spirit assembled here for whatever may come their way and Dion intended to make sure they had it.  Once, his dragoons were loyal enough to begin a coup for him.  He was not so blind as to think that might not be necessary again.

        “Good.  Then let us show the Last King the folly of provoking the Empire of Sanbreque!  Dragoons!  We march for Belenus Tor!”  A chorus of shouts followed him as the armor clad battalion excitedly jumped into motion, armor clanging in a familiar melody that never failed to put his mind at ease.

        “It takes little to motivate them of late,” Terence commented quietly beside him as they moved to the head of the line. 

        “They will need that in the battle to come.  Odin is a fierce opponent and his army strives to match that ferocity.”  He glanced over at his second, a brief memory of a bluff at Belenus Tor leaping to mind before vanishing, cut off as a painting ripped in half.  Dion shook it from mind.  That had been happening from time to time lately, most often involving Terence.  It was beginning to feel like he was missing something important.  He didn’t understand it.  Side effect of being pulled through time, perhaps.  Hopefully it wasn’t a sign of his memory degrading.

        “Are you well, my prince?”

        “Should I not be?”

        “You were scowling rather ferociously.”  Dion scoffed, somewhat amused, and forced himself to relax.

        “I am fine.  Trying to remember something I believe I forgot.”

        “I checked our supplies thrice over, should that settle your mind.”  Dion smiled a bit.

        “I admit it does, though supplies were not the target of my musings.”

        He really was fortunate to have Terence.  Ever did he think of all the things Dion did not.  Together they made an exceptional team, both in logistics and in battle.  Although, there had been one night that he’d considered trying to leave Terence in Oriflamme to keep him safe.  He never would have agreed and Dion knew it, so he never mentioned it to avoid the fight it would cause.  Odd.  Perhaps that was something which came with those half-memories.  He’d been feeling rather protective of his friend, more than he’d a right to.  Must be gratitude he was finally allowing himself to feel.  He would rather think that right now than the alternative which went hand-in-hand with a longing for proximity and quiet nights alone that he tried to bury.

        Oriflamme quickly faded behind the battalion.  At Dion’s insistence there was no parade nor flowers.  They’d a job to do.  There was no need for pomp and circumstance simply because it was his battalion leaving.  Three days they marched toward battle.  Spirits were high.  None seemed to question whether or not they might win, confident because Dion, and therefore Bahamut too, was with them.  Dion couldn’t tell them that meant little against Odin.  When they’d fought in the past, it had been obvious Odin was using him as a hound uses a toy.  Bahamut was something to pass the time while their forces struggled below.  It made his blood run cold to think what Odin might do were he to take battle seriously. 

        Split an ocean, apparently, he thought wryly, remembering what he was told of the chase to find Shiva.

        As night fell on the third day, the battalion set up camp well away from the field they all knew would be a battleground come morning.  Dion poured over maps and reports trying to combine what he remembered with the information they had.  There was only so much he could do.  They lost this field last time for a lack of support, not poor tactics.  Without reinforcements it had been only a matter of time before his knights could hold no longer, exhausted and ill-supplied in the face of endless royalists.  Not even Bahamut could stop it with Odin just waiting for him to appear.  He needed a way to overcome that weakness now, just in case.

        A creak from his bed pulled his attention away from maps.  Terence had been sitting there for quite a while for a lack of chairs in Dion’s tent, adamantly refusing to leave.  Now his chin was resting against his breastplate, breathing soft and regular, sound asleep and nearly falling over for it.  He’d run himself ragged ensuring camp was set up properly so Dion could plan and strategize with the captains.  With a fond smile, Dion tossed the unit marker in his hand lightly onto the table and reached for his friend.  One hand on his shoulder, the other on the opposite arm, and he guided him to lie down before he fell over.  Would that he wasn’t sleeping in most of his armor, but Dion would only wake him trying to remove it.  He needed what rest he could get.  There was little avoiding the running he would be forced to do tomorrow.  Dion draped a blanket over him intending to return to his maps, but Terence caught his hand.

        “You need sleep as well,” he murmured without opening his eyes.

        “I shall sleep when I know this incursion has been stopped.”

        “It will be.  You worry too much.”

        “Knowing who we face, I think that impossible.”  Terence smiled sleepily.

        “I have faith.”  Then he squeezed Dion’s hand reassuringly.  “Enough for you as well if you do not drown in exhaustion first.”

        “Have I done aught to deserve such faith?  I am inclined to think not.”

        “Ever have you been your own harshest judge.”  Terence opened his eyes to look up at him, brown irises studying his own.  Then he tugged on his hand and made some space on the bed.  “Talk to me.”  A moment of hesitation and Dion followed the pull to sit on the edge, relenting to a moment of honesty.

        “I do not know that I can defeat him should it come to it,” he admitted softly.

        “Odin.”

        “Yes.”

        “That is what we are here for.  We will stop his forces.  Even he does not fight such battles alone.”

        “Even so, should we fail here, all of Storm shall be at risk.”

        “Then we do not fail.”  Dion scoffed.

        “You make it sound so simple.”

        “As I said, I have faith.”  Were Dion prone to blushing, he certainly would be now to feel Terence run his thumb over his knuckles in such a soothing fashion.  It actually did calm his fears a little.  In fact everything about their position helped calm him somewhat.  A part of him did long to just lie down.  To rest.  To share the same bed as they once did when they were young.  Though even as he recognized the thought he knew that wasn’t quite what he wanted.  He wanted a closeness he dared not acknowledge.

        “Get some rest,” he said rather than address any of the feelings circling through his mind.  “I fear you will—”  A sudden, too-strong pull of aether surged against Dion’s consciousness, forcing him to his feet so fast he nearly pulled Terence with him.  That was Odin, he was nearly certain of it. 

        “What is it?” Terence asked, scrambling from the bed.

        “Odin,” Dion whispered. 

        “Odin?  What has he done?” 

        “Nothing, I think.  I believe he is calling me.  A surge of aether only a Dominant could create and only a Dominant would respond to.”  Is that his play?  Would he ignore the armies and battle in favor of Eikons?  Dion reached for his lance.

        “You cannot mean to meet him on your own!  Half your armor is in a pile!”

        “I’ve no choice.  If I do not answer and answer quickly there is no knowing what he may do.”

        “Let me accompany you at the very least.”

        “No.  Odin is not a threat I would want anyone near, least of all you.”  Tugging the tent flap open, he missed the stunned look that followed him out.

        Not for the first time he wondered what Tharmr was up to.  Looking for a foothold almost made sense.  Calling out Bahamut the night before battle did not.  The only thing he could want from this meeting was a battle of Dominants.  But why?  What would that gain him?  The dragoons would still fight without Dion.  Someone would step forward to lead them, he was certain of it.  What choice did he have, though?  He knew what Tharmr might do to get his way.  There was nothing for it but to see just what the Dominant of Darkness wanted.

        No other soul waited in the moonlight on the field between the ridges hiding both encampments save one.  Even if Dion had not known it to be Tharmr standing there, the aether of his Eikon would have told him such.  It seemed all fled from that ominous aether, nocturnal creatures included.  Alone, unarmed, without a care in the world he commanded it all.  Or at least, he would appear unarmed and impassionate to the  untrained eye.  Tharmr was dangerous at all times, perhaps most of all when he appeared weak or ill-prepared.

        “The lauded child wyrm,” Tharmr greeted blandly as he approached.  “I had expected someone with far more presence for all the acclaim thrown at you.”

        “I am here, Odin.  What do you want?”  If the king’s aim was to make him uncomfortable he would have to do much better than that.

        “You would bring a lance to a peaceful meeting?”

        “When I know your weapon is never beyond reach?  I would indeed.  Now speak or let our men speak for us on the morrow.”

        “So impatient.  I once was much the same, you know.  Eager to leap into battle rather than use my words simply to prove myself worthy.”  Dion said nothing.  “Very well, then.  I offer a compromise.  Our soldiers could battle each other till every one lies dead and the soil takes their blood to root.  Or we could resolve this ourselves.”  Just as he’d feared.

        “You wish this to be a contest of Eikons, then.”

        “One could say that.  I wish to see the mettle of the boy Dominant they claim is the Warden of Light yet whom has never primed.  They say you avoid your own gifts so staunchly some question if you truly are Bahamut at all.”

        “I would fight as a man before a Dominant,” he answered.  “There is nothing shameful in that.”  Tharmr scoffed loudly.

        “You sound so like another I know.  Ever eager to be rid of his own gift from god, determined to be nothing more than what he perceives himself to be.”  His instincts were screaming at him to be careful of the words he chose.  Whoever Tharmr was speaking of had struck a nerve.

        “Because of this you then think to see for yourself if I am who I say?”

        “You see the truth, Bahamut.” 

        Dion’s skin prickled at the name.  He was well-aware of his tendency to refer to Dominants by their Eikon, a habit he had been attempting to stop after meeting the outlaws despite the respect with which he had ever meant it.  It was bad enough to hear those in Oriflamme refer to him in such a way to his face, but there was something in Tharmr’s tone that made it far worse.  As if he was looking through Dion to the Eikon beneath.  As if Dion did not exist.  Worse still, he wanted to test him.  And because of Dion’s future knowledge, he finally understood what this was about.  Ifrit.  He may already be known by Ultima and his thralls, though there had been no mention of him from Rosaria.  If that were indeed the case, Tharmr was ensuring Dion, or rather, Bahamut, were strong enough to present Ifrit a challenge because his strength was unknown to the world.  This was a dangerous place to be standing.  If there was a silver lining, it seemed Tharmr did not possess the knowledge Dion did; if he knew, he would not question Bahamut’s presence or ability.

        “I think I need not be evaluated on my skill or abilities by my enemy,” he answered slowly and deliberately.  Get out.  He needed to get out of here.  Spinning his lance in hand, he dared turn his back and began walking back to camp.  Tharmr was Ultima’s and he knew of Mythos.  He would not kill him.  His god would not get his vessel if he did.  There was some small amount of safety in that.

        “You would let your men die for you, then?”  Dion stopped in spite of himself. 

        “You’ve chosen this battle, Tharmr.  Do not blame me for fighting it.”  He would love nothing more than to keep the men of his battalion safe from the likes of Odin.  But they were soldiers as he was.  This was their domain, whatever their end.

        “Such cowardice.”

        “Precisely how is it cowardice to allow a battle to commence as it would without Dominants on the field?”  Keep walking.  Don’t turn around.  Tharmr was trying to goad him into a fight here, one that he would prefer to avoid.  He had to admit his tactics to try getting into Dion’s head were good.  He may well have fallen victim to them once.  Words would not be enough to get him what he wanted now, though.

        “Well done, Bahamut,” Tharmr called after him.  The tone was chilling, not even bothering to try pretending he was human.  He applauded.  Actually clapped for Dion’s decisions.  He dared peak back over his shoulder.  The lack of emotion on Tharmr’s face was utterly terrifying.  Something was coming.  “You are wiser than your years suggest.  Most would be cowed or enraged by words.  But not you.  It would take more to get between your scales.  I see now I have been far too subtle in my approach.”  Odin’s sword swirled into existence.  No longer assured in his safety, Dion spun around, lance at the ready.  “This was no request, Bahamut.  Hide behind your Dragoons if you wish, it matters not to me.  I will cut them all to pieces in short order to get to you.  The end will be the same.  The choice is yours.  Face me now or after I finish your battalion.”

        I should have listened to Terence, he thought in the brief moment between Tharmr’s words and the flash of magenta energy whizzing past him nearly too fast to dodge.  Twisting out of the way, he settled in for a fight.  There was no avoiding this now.

        There were stories of that cursed blade.  While most were meant to ward off those meaning ill or frighten the people, a few were true.  It was said it could cut through anything no matter how substantial or immaterial.  Dion knew from experience that was somewhat true, though it would be more accurate to say that the darkness the sword radiated could cut through nearly anything.  The sword itself was merely an incredibly strong blade without it.  Still, though, how to counter something that could cut through anything? 

        For now, the best option he had was to dodge strikes until he had a better plan.  Even blocking could cost him his weapon.  This would be no swift battle.  Dion had to pace himself and use his mind over his strength if he’d a hope of winning.  Or living.  He’d never fought Tharmr himself, however.  Only Odin.  He knew some of what the Eikon was capable of but not the man himself.  Tharmr was calm.  Almost dispassionately so.  As if he expected every strike to connect and thought little of the outcome.  Even when they did not he did not flinch.  It made him that much more difficult to read.  He had no tell, nothing indicating when or how he might attack. 

        Of course he doesn’t.  He is already akashic.  That in itself could be a tell.  Akashic.  Dispassionate.  Efficient.  Tharmr would always take the most efficient choice.  No wasted movement or effort.  His target was Dion and no other, meaning he would strike at the singular openings left to him.  For now.

        “Quick on your feet yet too afraid to attack,” Tharmr taunted him as Dion Jumped over his head and landed behind to avoid being caught by the steep rocks at the edge of the valley.  “Surely Bahamut is better than this.”

        Not yet.  He twisted around another shot a deliberate moment later than he had been, daring to deflect the magic with the side of his lance.  It didn’t break, at least.  Were he to imbue it with his own magic, he may be able to truly deflect and counter.

        “Pathetic,” Tharmr spat.  It was the closest thing to emotion he’d allowed since they met.  Suddenly he was in front of Dion swinging with such force there was no chance of escaping.  Pushing light through his weapon, he forced Odin’s blade down and away from him then stabbed quickly forward with the base.  Tharmr darted aside, much as Dion expected he would.  “Still you rely on steel.  You, the legendary dragon.”  He swung again and Dion pivoted to catch the strike.  “Fight, Bahamut.”

        “That is not my name,” Dion growled, not really thinking of the retort.

        “Then perhaps you are little more than a Bearer after all, masquerading as one of the chosen.  A pitiful lie for a pitiful boy.  Shall I tell those so loyal to you that they fight for someone they know naught of?  That they fight for a pitiful liar incapable of summoning the revered wyrm he is meant to embody?”  Dion parried two more quick strikes and pulled back.

        He wasn’t Bahamut.  He wasn’t who his men thought, if not for the reasons Tharmr believed.  He was pitiful and a liar.  He had destroyed what he sought to protect and joined forces with those who destroyed the world order.  And Dion’s crimes paled in comparison to the man before him.  How many had Tharmr killed?  How many had died as a result of his actions?  Dion remembered the hordes of akashic he fought in Ran’dellah and Stonhyrr.  So many turned for the fanatical beliefs of their king.  A king they should have been able to trust.  He manipulated others to start wars all to ensure Clive Rosfield would be brought into contact with the other Dominants and to bring them all one step closer to ruin.  The cries of the woman they brought back from Eistla made it all the more real for  Dion.  This man would do anything to hand them all over to Ultima.  He’d seen it.  He’d seen his god and the number killed in a bid for power they never saw.  Origin rising alone killed countless innocents.  That in particular sent a wave of emotion through him he didn’t understand, something strong and visceral pulling at the threads of the heart he often ignored threatening to rip an anguished scream from his throat.  While he didn’t understand exactly why, this was not the time to examine it.  The feeling melded together with everything else.  Dion was done playing.  It all began with Barnabas Tharmr.  Perhaps he was placing the blame he felt for Ultima upon another, but it was not undeserved.

        Something inside him roared at the afront.  He could honestly say he was not angry; that was the path to death on the battlefield.  If anything, he felt a righteous thirst take over his core.  He spun his lance in his hand.  Odin.  Tharmr.  He was sick of this interference in the Twins.  They were a stain on Valisthea, always ushering humanity toward an abrupt end.  A knowing tool in an experiment rather than a part of the life around him.  Odin would know, if that was what he wanted.  He would know what it meant to face Bahamut.  He would face a justice far too late received once upon a time.  Dion’s grip on his lance tightened with determination then slackened in readiness.  Light etched through every groove of the weapon. 

        “So be it,” he whispered.  There was one thing that always pushed back against the darkness.  And luckily, Dion was the warden of it.

        Terence ran to the edge of the bluff after rousing the dragoons and moving them away from their encampment.  He’d been unable to shake the bad feeling which settled in his stomach after Dion jogged off to meet Odin.  If this ended in a battle of Eikons, or even empowered Dominants, the dragoons would be in the way at best.  A liability at worst.  Luckily they listened to him and moved off for their own safety, despite a few protests wanting to help their prince.  Those were almost entirely from younger recruits who were not well-versed in the power a Dominant could wield.  Terence himself had not seen it first-hand.  But he knew.  He knew from stories Dion didn’t remember telling him.

        This was the spot on the bluff from one of the memories he still carried for Dion.  He did not pry through them, but he did recognize it.  Everything played out so much differently this time.  He couldn’t help but wonder why.  Dion had to have been wondering the same since word arrived.  But now was not the time to try sorting through it.  Right now, he had to focus on Dion.  By the time he got within sight, he was already battling Odin.  Or, dodging him, more appropriately.  Dion was doing little real fighting.  Terence couldn’t hear what was said, but he heard an indistinct voice on the wind that could only have been Tharmr’s.  Whatever Tharmr said to him changed the confrontation completely.

        Several tense moments passed.  Then pure light shone through Dion’s lance.  More than Terence had ever seen him create at once.  He knew Dion was capable of it, but he also suspected what stopped him.  Shame and guilt, probably, even though he would not admit it aloud.  The light grew, emboldened by Greagor knew what, and Dion leapt into action.  He jumped high into the air, landing with the point of his lance on Tharmr’s sword before leaping off once again.  After that things became a blur.  Terence could scarcely keep track of anything happening in front of him for the sheer speed.  He hadn’t known it was possible to be so quick in a fight.  It was like they both were already moving to the next strike before the current one had finished.  All he knew was that there were streaks of light and streaks of darkness, darker than the shadows of the deepest night, swirling together as one, punctuated by the ping of steel. 

        He should run like he made the others do.  He should get out of here before he got in the way.  Yet he found himself rooted to the spot watching this clash he could barely see.  Dion could do this.  Terence had faith in him.  This was really the first time he’d seen the Dominant he stood beside rather than just Dion, and Terence knew he preferred it that way.  To say he was in awe was an understatement, but it was not for his Eikon.  Dion fought like a man of legend, so fierce one would think it had to be exaggeration.  But it was working.  Bit by tiny bit Terence could just make out Tharmr being put onto the defensive, the streaks of darkness decreasing just a fraction in number.  So focused on the battle before him he noticed the instant it changed.  A step back from Tharmr, a moment of recovery from Dion.  Then swirling energy that finished in the largest single sweep of magic he’d ever seen in his life. 

        And it was headed straight for Terence.

        How was anyone supposed to avoid an attack like that?  It didn’t matter where he went, it was so large it would surely hit him anyway, wouldn’t it?  Dion shouted indistinctly as he ran towards the bluff.  The sound shocked him into motion.  This was not how he was going out.  Jumping to one side, he rolled just out of the way, surprised that he dodged anything at all.  The ground where he’d stood did not rip nor explode.  It simply disappeared.  The second strike he hadn’t seen coming.  Scrambling to his feet he tried to figure out a way around this one, but the first had already gouged deeply into the ground.  To leap back that direction would only be death of a different cause.  His options, and time, were non-existent.  Feeling the weight of one poor decision, he closed his eyes.

        He wasn’t expecting anything more than being blown away by Odin’s magic.  He certainly wasn’t expecting an intense burst of radiant light in front of him.  Surprised, he peaked his eyes open.  Before him, wings spread wide, was a massive being that left him breathless.  Silver scales glinted in the moonlight.  The dragon roared in anger.  Having never heard it before, he shouldn’t be able to tell emotion from it, but he could.  He knew.  The only time Bahamut had been seen since time reset itself and it was to protect him.  Terence couldn’t help but stare dumbly trying to process what he was seeing.  That this was actually happening.  He knew the toll priming could eventually take on a Dominant.  He shouldn’t be so awe-struck that Dion would risk it for him.  But he was.  Silver scales bristled as his wings flapped, staring down Odin in challenge. 

        “So you are Bahamut after all.”  Tharmr’s voice boomed through the valley. 

        Dion didn’t let him say much.  Light pooled between the mighty dragon’s jaws and the torrent of it rushed toward his opponent.  Terence couldn’t see if it hit.  Doubtful.  In answer to what Terence could not see, Bahamut beat his wings to rise high into the sky.  Odin, for now it truly was the dreaded horsebacked-Eikon standing in place of the king, followed quickly behind.  The battle that would be waged now would not be easily seen from the ground.

        “Greagor’s breath fill your wings,” he murmured, a strange sense of déjà vu accompanying the sentiment.

        Dion recognized what Tharmr was up to a split second before it happened.  It was only a semi-prime, but with a foe like this, that was all he needed.  There was no need to think in that brief moment between life and death.  There was no conscious acknowledgement of who the silhouette on the bluff was; he already knew.  Only one thing was going to be enough to save him from the second strike Dion was certain he could not see coming in time. 

        He tugged hard on the aether nestled within as he ran, reaching out to it desperately, begging the Eikon to protect.  It was faint, but he could just remember Ifrit priming before him in Twinside, blocking an attack with the power of that prime.  There was no time for anything else.  The prime would stop it or Bahamut’s scales would.  One step ahead of that mass of darkness, Dion primed.  The force of light bursting from him pushed back against the darkness, giving it no room for any momentum and wiping it from existence.

        “So you are Bahamut after all,” he heard Odin say in approval.  Getting what he wanted, he primed as well.

        Away.  He had to get Odin away from here.  Tharmr was dangerous.  Semi-primed was more than most could handle.  This was the being that split the sea, barricaded a quarter of a continent, and played with other Eikons for fun.  Collateral damage was not a concept he understood to be a bad thing; rather, it was a tool he could leverage.  Dion couldn’t give him the chance.  So up, as high as he could manage, he flew into the night sky.  Odin followed.  He would not stop just at the sight of Bahamut.  He was here to challenge him.  To test him.  To ensure he was up to the task of facing Ifrit and being taken by him. 

        Not this time. 

        Barrage after barrage of light attacks flew from his wings, each either cut through or dodged while Odin climbed upward to him.  If there was a singular advantage Bahamut had over Odin it was agility.  Bahamut was meant for the skies.  Odin climbed by force.  If there was a second advantage Dion had over Tharmr, it was experience.  Dion had battled Ultima once before and learned a great many things from it.

        A line of dark magic flew from Odin’s sword straight upward through the skies toward him and Dion twisted around it with ease, using the wind created by his wings to push it further away from him.  Pouring aether into a roar of light, he let loose on Odin.  They were high enough that collateral damage would be minimal at worst.  If he could but keep their altitude, he could fight in earnest.  Odin tried to block the stream with his sword, but some managed to sneak past the defense, searing his shoulder and thigh.  Odin began a swing of his own and Dion dipped lower, catching the sword in his claws.  He remembered doing this once before to little effect.  He had also learned a thing or two from Ifrit and the Phoenix, however. 

        Allowing his magic to run through him as Ifrit’s flames did felt like the very edge of losing control entirely.  He kept such a tight fist on both Eikon and magic alike that the idea of not controlling his strikes with absolute perfection was akin to blind rages, flinging in every direction in hopes of connecting one strike.  Yet he had been thrown into a blind rage once.  He still did not remember much of that night in Twinside.  He knew exactly what the loss of control felt like now.  This was not that.  This was allowing himself to be light itself.  Tharmr just thought himself Clive Rosfield’s nemesis.  In this timeline, he would learn better.

        Light streamed through his wings, his scales, his talons and to the tip of his tail.  Every inch of it burned into Odin, trapped as he was with sword in Bahamut’s talons.  Dion twisted his body and shoved Odin upward even further.  The horse he rode was nimble but the move was unexpected enough to create another opening, which Dion was quick to take advantage of.  The light faded from his body and he poured as much as he could into a Gigaflare.

        Not again.

        Not another bleak wasteland.

        Not another broken empire.

        If he looked hard, Dion could see the bright light of an attack he knew would kill him streaking towards him even as he pushed onward.  It was all in his mind, he was well aware.  A memory of his last moments prior to being sent back here.  He roared in defiance at Tharmr, Odin, and Ultima alike.  His magic flared in response.  Long had he wrestled with himself in trying to decide exactly what this situation of his was.  Curse?  Or miracle?  Now, high in the sky above Valisthea, he knew.  This was a miracle.  Tharmr showing himself tonight was a miracle.  No longer, Odin.  No longer, Ultima.  It didn’t matter who he was fighting in that moment.  He poured his power into a Gigaflare he never dared produce outside of Origin.  This was not the version of Bahamut anyone in this world could know.  This was the Eikon of Light that managed to halt a god.

        The Eikon of Darkness screamed when hit.

        Terence never thought he would hear an Eikon scream.  It seemed like such a human reaction, too human for something so mighty.  But scream it did.  He was fairly certain it was Odin he heard, though the anxiety which still settled in the pit of his stomach didn’t abate.  He watched the clash as best he could from the ground.  There was little he could see save flashes of light like lightning in a cloudless sky.  Not long after that scream something hurtled down from the heavens sending a wave of dirt and clumps of grass flying outward from the crater.  Bahamut, Odin in his claws, was in the center of it all.  Both disappeared moments after impact, leaving their Dominants in their place, each seeming too small to have created the visible crater they now occupied. 

        Tharmr wasn’t moving, sprawled on the ground where Odin landed.  Dion stumbled backward, clutching his lance and falling to a knee.  Even from his perch Terence could see how heavily he was breathing.  Feeling safe enough that the battle of giants was over, Terence scrambled down from the bluff as fast as he could, running toward his friend.  Dion stood before he got there and pointed his lance toward Tharmr.  The battle seemed to be over, yet Terence’s anxiety suddenly spiked.

        “I can admit when I am somewhat impressed,” Tharmr said while sitting up as if he hadn’t just been thrown into the ground by a dragon.  “I underestimated you, Bahamut.  You are mightier than I expected.  I have seen enough.”

        “You would flee so casually?” Dion panted.

        “Why stay when you’ve so little left to give?”

        “I assure you I am far from finished,” he retorted, readying his lance.  In answer Tharmr returned his own sword to hand.  In the blink of an eye he was across the distance swinging towards Dion.  Terence stopped short.  They exchanged a few more blows before Tharmr disengaged from a sweep of Dion’s lance in another display of incredible speed.

        “You’ve some fight left in you after all.  But as I said, I have seen enough.  There is no point in continuing this now.”

        “There is every point, Tharmr!  You cannot believe I will leave this ground to you because you wished to test me.”

        “I care little for this ground, young wyrm.  I came for you.  And I have my answer.”  Dion visibly tensed without questioning what that meant.  Maybe he already knew.  “Ah, but I see you will not take the easy way out.  Continue to hone your skills.  They will be needed.  Goodbye, Bahamut.  I do thank you for this intriguing evening.” 

        No one had time to do anything in the moment it took Tharmr to hurl a magic spear toward Dion.  Terence shouted something, fear gripping his heart with an icy fist.  The spear, like a twisted and corrupted version of Dion’s, met the real thing, light and dark colliding in a thunderous shockwave across the ground.  Still quite some distance away, it rippled across Terence’s chest, stuttering his heart and taking his breath away.  Dion was not so fortunate.  He tried to hold against the concussive force but it threw him off his feet and tumbling several feet away.  Terence ran as fast as he could while struggling to catch his breath.  Tharmr caught Terence’s eye, shaking his head as if disappointed.  Then he disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

        “Dion!” Terence called dropping down beside him.  There was nothing he could do about Tharmr if he wanted to.  He could never face someone like that even if he hadn’t just vanished.  A small trickle of blood stained Dion’s ear and a gash across his forehead threatened to spill over too.  Worse, he wasn’t moving.  “Dion?”  Terence gently shook him to no avail.  Now he understood why he’d been so concerned about facing Odin.  If he could do this without his Eikon…  “It’s going to be alright,” he whispered to his unconscious friend, more for his own comfort than Dion’s.  “You’ll be good as new in no time.”

        Far from the eyes of those on the valley floor, a woman with short black hair and tanned skin watched Terence lift the prince cautiously and begin a long trek back to their camp.  Therese had seen the entire encounter, spying on this mission by order of His Radiance.  There was certainly much she could use here.  The prince refusing to face the king.  Hesitating to act when left no other choice.  Not finishing the fight.  Only priming for the most selfish of reasons despite the threat.  Oh, and the second in command ordering the dragoons away and permitting the king’s escape, lest she forget.  Yes, her liege would be quite interested to know what happened here.  Sylvestre was reasonably convinced his son was plotting something potentially ruinous already.  This would all but solidify it.  Therese smiled.  This truly was too easy.  With but a few words the Eikons would be right where they needed to be for Mythos.  Several in Rosaria, Titan being primed to act, Bahamut squarely in the dungeons where he would be ripe food when the time came.  He would be easy enough to direct with the proper motivation.  After that, Therese’s job would be over.  Odin would be the final judge.  All really was lining up exactly how she wanted.

Chapter Text

        A few days passed before Dion was well enough to do much of anything.  The medicines administered needed time to do their work and he was, by all accounts, rather banged up from Tharmr’s last attack.  He’d been out cold for most of the next day and by the time he came to, only the most serious injuries remained and those were fading quickly.  Although he wanted and expected to feel shame for failing to stop Odin completely, he instead found he was oddly satisfied with what he’d accomplished.  Tharmr had disengaged like that because he felt threatened.  He made sure Dion could not pursue.  Pressure to that level was something Dion had never managed.  It made him feel as if perhaps he had grown a bit without realizing.  Certainly his dragoons were not complaining at the outcome.  From what he heard outside his tent and what he was told, they were generally quite jovial, encouraged by knowing Odin ran from Bahamut.  Fortunately it wasn’t just Odin.  Waloed’s forces pulled back entirely.  While Dion was glad they would not have to fight, the news struck him wrong.  Tharmr really had done all this just to scrap with Bahamut.  That had never happened before.  Why now?  Why at all?  It seemed obvious it had something to do with testing his strength for Ifrit, but there were still some uncomfortable gaps in his understanding.

        Finally able to stand without his stomach lurching into his throat, he announced their return on the fourth day since his battle.  Arm still in a sling from a broken bone that their physicker recommended resting a bit longer, there was little he could do to aid in preparing for that return.  Breaking camp would be left to his men and a few others they’d brought along with them.  Terence was pushing for Dion to ride back to Oriflamme as a precaution, but Dion was having none of that.  Sling or no, he would be precisely where he was when they began this endeavor: at the head of the line walking like everyone else. 

        Now that the danger had passed for the moment, he wasn’t sure what might happen next.  He was going to somehow have to explain that this entire incursion had been set up in order to fight Bahamut briefly and test his strength without veering too close to the knowledge he possessed of future events.  Without that understanding, none of this made any kind of sense.  His father would be worried, of course.  Perhaps if he was lucky he could frame it in such a way that Sylvestre believed Bahamut had simply scared Odin away.  The dragoons seemed to think that was the case.  Why not the Emperor himself?  That was probably the best they could hope for.  That and hoping no one asked too many questions.

        “I still wish you would ride at least part of the way,” Terence grumbled as they walked.  “No one here needs any more motivation than they already have.  Your recovery is much more important.”  Terence had scarcely let him out of his sight since that night.  Constantly was he checking bandages or fetching another potion or forcing Dion to lie down when he believed his balance was failing.

        “You need not worry so.  I have suffered far worse injury than this, believe me.”  He didn’t notice the disapproving tilt of Terence’s head, or the fact that those injuries were all in that alternate timeline. 

        “Having done it before does not mean you need do it once more.”

        The march back to Oriflamme passed peacefully.  Between Terence and a few others, physicker included, they persuaded Dion to at least not rush the journey.  It added an extra day to their travel, but it wasn’t a serious problem.  They weren’t expected back anytime soon, after all.  Dion had to admit that his unease began to grow with the holy capitol in sight.  He would need to be very careful of his words, more careful than ever.  And pray that they were believed.

        Rain clouds loomed overhead as the Holy Order of Knights Dragoon marched into Oriflamme.  Settling the battalion was left to the captains, Terence staunchly refusing to leave Dion’s side when he reported to the emperor.  Dion tried insisting he was quite well enough for such a task, the only sign of his injuries the sling the physicker insisted he continue wearing that Dion was planning to toss into a vase the moment he was out of sight.  Terence, however, was extremely adamant.  Dion got his way in walking rather than riding, he said; in this, Terence would now have his way.  Unable to argue further without causing a scene they walked to the throne room together in relative silence.  Dion regretted not arguing the moment they stepped foot through the doors.

        A startled yelp from Terence was the only warning something was wrong.  Dion spun quickly, throwing off his sling in favor of lance, in time to see Terence forced to his knees and manacles locking his wrists behind his back.  In the next breath another guard had ripped his lance from him, someone he couldn’t see snapping cuffs onto his own wrists.  He blinked back stars when the lock clicked.  Crystal fetters.  Forcibly blocking Bahamut felt like a vice tightened viciously upon his very soul which left him standing on shaky legs.  The feeling was strangely similar to waking without his Eikon after Twinside except that his magic was still within reach then.  He might just have preferred that sensation.

        “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded with as much authority as he could muster.  All involved in this ambush were guards of the palace.  Dion knew them.  And when he turned with harsh grips on his arms holding him back, his father was watching passively.  The guards shoved he and Terence both across the room then forced them to their knees in front of the Emperor.  “What madness is this, Father?” he demanded again.

        “You are being held for treason,” Sylvestre explained calmly.  “Both of you.”

        “Treason?”  Dion gaped, stunned beyond words or thought.  He heard Terence gasp in similar shock.

        “You engaged Odin upon reaching Belenus Tor.”  It wasn’t a question.  It also should not have been an issue at all, let alone cause for suspicion of treason.

        “I did.  He—”

        “I care not for your excuses.  You met him in battle as your second sent all of your battalion away.  And then you allowed King Tharmr, our most threatening enemy for years, walk free.”  While that did technically happen, the reality was far from such simplicity.

        “Your Radiance, I—” Terence tried but a wicked look of hatred from Sylvestre cut him off.  Dion had never seen his father look at someone like that.  An anxious knot formed in his core.

        “Where did you come by this information, Father?”

        “I sent my own eyes after your battalion.  She observed from a distance your full confrontation.”

        “Then she must be a poor spy indeed to have missed so much.”  Sylvestre said nothing and so he continued speaking, hoping his father would at least grant him that much.  “Odin called me out the night before battle.  Had I not engaged him he would have obliterated my men and forced me to fight anyway.  I cannot say why he chose to quit the field when he did.  Only that he ensured I could not follow.  Terence cleared the battalion at my order to avoid collateral damage.”  A small lie, true, but it was an order he staunchly agreed with.  Sylvestre seemed to at least hear his words this time, if stopping just shy of actually considering them.

        “My liege,” a woman’s voice interjected.  She appeared in Dion’s periphery with little more than her voice announcing her arrival, kneeling before the throne reverently.  Even with black hair covering her face as she bowed her head, Dion was fairly certain he’d never seen her before.  “I observed from afar yet I can confidently say I watched Prince Dion converse at length with King Tharmr.  When battle did begin, the prince was reluctant to engage.  The king was equally reticent.  It looked apparent to me both were holding back, this battle being merely for show.”

        “And you would be?”  Whoever this woman was, she had clearly watched at least some of the encounter.  That much was as disturbing as it was beyond doubt.  Also beyond doubt was her either complete misunderstanding of events or deliberate twisting of them.

        “I am Therese, faithful eyes and ears of His Radiance.”

        “Then I suggest you find better eyes, Father, if she would mistake caution for hesitation.  Tharmr is nigh unrivaled with the blade and Odin is among the strongest of Eikons.  Those he does battle with underestimate them at their own peril.”  This must be some ridiculous mistake.  Dion desperately wanted to believe that.  But this felt so much like Annabella backing him into a corner.  He could feel that figurative wall pressing ever closer, for no matter what he said in defense, he could see it plainly: his father gave more heed to her assumptions than any fact Dion could counter with.  Why?  Just who was this woman to have his ear so assuredly?

        “My liege, I at first suspected the same.  When I discovered the dragoons had been removed, however, it became clear to me.  The prince and his second were secretly conspiring with Tharmr under guise of battle.”

        “What?!” Terence shouted at the allegation.

        “The prince was even allowed to prime to save his second from a wayward strike.  Once primed the battle took to the sky beyond the sight of all.  Tharmr was uninjured afterward and permitted to take his leave by the second.  I fear treachery is my only reasonable outlook.”

        “Pray, tell us what you think I would stand to gain from such actions?” Dion spat hotly.

        “My liege,” she said, answering the question while refusing to speak directly to Dion, “it is my belief that this battle was a show to create a false sense of security.  The prince would appear to easily route the king and when our defenses were lowered in that knowledge, the king would appear once more.  Next time, the prince would not be standing in his way.  Their ultimate goal eludes me.  I suspect it our Mothercrystal.  Should Odin appear in the skies of Oriflamme without Bahamut to meet him, no amount of citizenry nor soldiers we could send would stand in his way.  The Empire would be decimated in the attempt.”

        By the light….  Dion was absolutely sick listening to this.  How could anyone not see that they were protecting the battalion from forces they could never withstand?  A chilling realization seeped into his veins at what she was really saying, beyond talk of the battalion.  Words he wished he could forget while never daring lest they be said again rang in his mind.  His mouth went dry trying to force them from his lips now.  He had to be sure.

        “For every citizen killed,” he murmured, watching his father’s face closely, “another can be bred.  For every home burned, another can be built.”  Sylvestre didn’t flinch.  “Is that how you would view the world, Father?”

        “So you do understand that after all.”

        Dion paled.  He’d been so careful through the years to keep track of those whispering in his father’s ear.  Annabella, and Ultima by extension, won last time with gentle whispers Dion never saw.  Of course he paid attention now.  Apparently he hadn’t been attentive enough.  Someone got to him anyway.  Unless this truly was his nature deep down, but Dion didn’t want to believe that was the case.  Sylvestre may not be a model father, but he was a good emperor until his outlook on the citizenry changed.  That shouldn’t have happened this time.  So what changed?  His eyes fell on the mystery woman.  The one person in this room creating this tale and the one he’d never laid eyes on.  What was her goal in this?  Could she be Ultima’s already?  Using the Emperor of Sanbreque to create the conflict needed in the Twins to allow Mythos to claim the Eikons?  It was far too soon for that!  Dion was an excellent fighter and strong in his own right without Bahamut.  He considered leveraging that by grappling her and forcing a confession.  But that would look an admission of guilt and he would in turn be forced to admit a great many things he could not risk now with unknown forces in the room.

        “Father, a battle between Eikons takes the lives of allies as much as enemies.  I sought only to protect my battalion from my own Eikon and from Odin.  Neither I nor Terence would ever stoop to cooperation with Tharmr.  You must see that collateral damage needed to be avoided.”  He wouldn’t see, though.  Dion could already tell from the set of his jaw.  His decision had been made before they’d stepped foot in the room.

        “I have heard enough,” Sylvestre declared with a firm thump of his staff.  “For treason against the Empire, this second in command who so desperately clings to you shall be executed at dawn.”

        “You cannot!” Dion protested.  Sylvestre simply spoke over his outcry.

        “We cannot lose Bahamut, however, and so you will be kept in crystal fetters until we have need of your Eikon.  Refuse your call and we shall find ways to force your submission.  Take them to the dungeons.”

        This couldn’t be happening.  It was ludicrous!  The barest of information twisted into absolute madness condemning them both for lack of concern.  He never saw this coming, not even in nightmares.  Fighting back against the hands tugging at him only earned a fist in his stomach, sending him to his knees gasping for breath.  They continued tugging.  He dared a look as the doors closed.  Therese stood watching as did his father.  Never had he seen two people view such a scene with so little emotion.  It was then he realized.  Whatever was happening, whether Ultima was involved or not, it had been going on a long time.  His father was being turned against him right under his nose and he’d never seen it. This fight with Odin had only provided an excuse to act. 

        “I’m sorry,” Terence whispered mournfully.  The walls of the cell muffled the sound making it all the more pathetic to his own ears.  Maybe it was just pathetic to begin with.  Being charged with treason and chained to the wall of a dungeon cell was not on his list of foreseeable ways he would spend his final hours.  He didn’t want to give up so easily, but what could he do save pray?  He just didn’t see a way out.  “Mayhap if I’d not ordered the battalion to move there would have been a chance to avoid this.”  Dion glanced up then grit his teeth with the effort of something Terence couldn’t see.  Ever since the guards had left he’d been doing anything he could think of to break free.  So far he’d yet make any progress, still chained to the opposite wall. 

        “Do not apologize.  I am glad you acted.  I think it would have mattered little here.  This clash was most like the means to an inevitable end .  Were it not this, it would have been something else.”

        “You are taking it better than I expected.”

        “Do I give that impression?”  Dion grunted out the last word, losing his grip on whatever he was trying this time.  “I am taking it rather poorly, in truth.  Someone has persuaded my father that I am not to be trusted, and therefore you as well.  There is naught I can do from here, however.  At present I am far more immediately concerned for your well-being.”  That was nice to hear, he had to admit.  Futile, he feared, but nice.

        There was so much he wanted to say.  He would not get another chance.  Dion still didn’t know that Terence knew everything.  And then there was the matter of his memories kept locked away.  The thing he wanted to say most, though, was how much he cared about him.  Terence knew from those memories Dion had loved him once.  Though he did what he could not to pry though those memories to preserve some modicum of privacy, he also knew the feeling was mutual.  But over the years, he’d fallen for his best friend on his own, no foreign memories needed.  He’d fallen for the way he moved, the way he spoke to those around him, his compassion and gentleness that turned to passion and ferocity on the battlefield.  Terence loved everything about the man he chose to stand with.  He desperately wanted to tell him that, tell him everything he always hid.  Fear kept him from it.  Should he say any of it, things would only be harder for Dion come morning.  Terence knew him well enough to know for certain it would only create more guilt for having failed to save him.  So he said nothing, knowing he was sparing Dion a little bit of heartache while also hating that he still kept secrets to the very end.

        “My only regret is that I will not be with you in the days to come,” he said instead, a woefully inadequate statement that was all he could manage.

        “You will be,” Dion replied fiercely.  “I will not accept this.”

        “It’s alright, Dion.  Just…  Promise me one thing.”

        “What might that be?” he ground out, straining against his bindings again.

        “Make it out of here.  Leave the Empire.  Find those who share a history with you.  They will help you.  I cannot bear the thought of you facing the future alone.”

        “Share a history?  What are you talking about?”  It was a risk, certainly, but Terence dropped small clues that he knew all the time and Dion never realized.  It sickened him to think what Dion might do, though.  He was well known to seclude himself, telling the world he was getting his thoughts in order while really burying himself under them.  If he didn’t find those others, there would be none to dig him out of it this time.  He would resign himself to rot in the dungeons, giving up everything that made him who he was in a twisted penance until all that was left was Bahamut tied upon a leash.  That couldn’t be allowed to happen, no matter what Terence had to say to get through to him.

        “You will figure it out.  Promise me.  Please promise you will not go it alone when I am gone.”

        “I can make no such promise when you will not be gone.”  This was getting nowhere. 

        “By the light, stop this, Dion!  Please!”  He finally looked up, a bit startled, truly paying attention for the first time.  “You cannot stop this.  Not this time.  It’s alright.  I can face this end readily if you but make this single promise.”  Tears stung his eyes and threatened to crack his voice.  “Promise me you will find those that share your history.  You will forget about me in no time.  You don’t need your childhood friend clinging to your side any longer.  It’s time for you to walk your own path with others at your side.”  Greagor take him, this hurt.  If it helped Dion move on he was okay with that, but it didn’t make it any less painful to think that he wouldn’t be there to help or that Dion really didn’t need him anymore.

        “How could I ever forget you?” Dion replied in such a small, broken voice it pulled a tear from Terence’s eye despite the control he sought to maintain.  “Why would I want to?  Do you not realize how—”  Swift footfalls rushing down a stone corridor towards them broke off whatever he meant to say.  Suddenly a young woman ran into their sight and stopped short.

        “Thank the Founder,” she muttered when she laid eyes on them.

        “Founder?” Dion breathed.  He seemed to recognize the saying, but Terence had never heard it.  The mystery woman pulled her blonde hair into a quick bun out of her face and fished out a set of lockpicks to begin working the cell door open.

        “You are Prince Dion, correct?” she asked with a glance in Dion’s direction.

        “I believe the title may be in question, but yes, I am.” 

        “I was tasked with giving you a message.  This folly befell you before I could.”  With a loud click the lock popped free and the door swung open.  First she scurried over to Terence, shoving him forward insistently to get at his shackles.  Was this really a rescue?  Could he dare to hope?  Still working with the lock, she spoke over his shoulder.  “The message is this: ‘Our roots do not define us.  If the wild tail blooms, you know where to find us.’”  His shackles clattered to the ground, punctuating the statement, and she rushed over to Dion.  He turned so that she could easily access the fetters.

        “And who has been kind enough to allow us this chance?”

        “Amelia, your highness.”

        “Then Amelia, you have my undying gratitude.”  The fetters hit the floor.  When he stood, Terence could see blood around Dion’s wrists where he had rubbed his skin raw trying to get free.  Dion, however, didn’t even look down until Amelia pulled a vial of something from a pocket and rubbed the ointment onto the wounds.  “If there is ever aught you need, I am forever in your debt.”

        “You owe me naught, your highness.  The emperor kept your arrest a secret.  If you can get out of the palace, you should be safe enough to slip through the city.  Two chocobos and provisions await you at the stables outside the city gates.  An associate is expecting you.  Your weapons are just outside the door.  Now go!  You must make haste lest you be caught and I would not wish to face my lord in failure.  That is how you may repay me.” 

        Dion nodded and took hold of Terence’s arm to escort him out of the dungeon carefully.  The firm grip, perhaps a little too firm, was a jolt to his heart.  He had given up when Dion hadn’t.  That was unacceptable, utterly and completely.  If he were to stand beside this man, his strength of heart needed to be far greater than that.  Terence vowed to himself that never again would he succumb to his fate until it was a fate he could accept.  They reached the door to the cells, peaking through carefully.  Neither were asking questions as to why it was empty.  One look at Dion, though, told him much.  It was best this hallway was empty for that firm grip on his arm that bordered on painful was one of protection.  Dion was going to let no one anywhere near him.  Terence laid a hand on his, pulling his attention for a moment. 

        “Together,” he whispered softly with a reassuring smile and a squeeze of his hand.  Dion squeezed back, they grabbed their weapons, and darted out into the darkest corners of the palace.

        Amelia’s information was quite accurate.  The palace guards were not even on alert, thinking the drama of the day was already passed.  Luckily Terence remembered one of the routes he used to take into the palace as a boy that was not child-sized.  He led them both through the gardens along paths easily blocked from view and over a very climbable gate that none ever seemed to notice created perfect handholds on the outside.  Of course now, neither of them had need of handholds.  Dion jumped the gate with grace and Terence hoisted himself over with slightly less grace.  He’d never managed to get the hang of Jumps like Dion and the other dragoons.  On the other side, Dion looked back sadly at the palace.

        “I will fix this, one day,” he murmured to himself.  Terence gave him a moment to reconcile with things.  Then a chuckle unexpectedly burbled from his lungs.  Dion gave him an inquisitive look and Terence took off jogging down the hill, talking as they went.

        “I imagined sneaking you out of the palace like this so many times as children,” he admitted.  “You were always so uptight and pressured.  Leaving would have given you some freedom.  But I knew you never would, too bound by rules and appearances.”  Dion actually laughed, softly to avoid being heard.

        “I often wished I could follow when you left in the mornings,” he said, much to Terence’s surprise.

        “Took us long enough to do it.”  Dion glanced over his shoulder at the palace one last time.  “We will return when we can.  I cannot fathom what has happened here, but we will return and we will put it right.”  He was rewarded with a strained smile.  By unspoken agreement, they picked up their pace into the city.

        Amelia had been true to her word.  Some contact of hers had been awaiting them both at the stables.  He sent them off in a rush on chocobos, each with a bag of provisions.  They would need to clear Northreach and be well into the wilds by dawn to be safe from the emperor, he warned them.  There was no telling how far the search would extend, but if they were careful, they could make it.  If there was a destination the boy had in mind, he didn’t say it aloud.  Dion had a very strong suspicion of the desired outcome, though.  They rode hard through the night and passed through Northreach with none looking twice at them.  By the time the sun’s first rays lightened the sky, they were well away from both city and road.  Tucked deep into the back of a cave they and their chocobos would wait out the day and then resume their trek once night fell.  The cave was at least large enough that they could dare a small fire without being seen or worrying about the smoke.  That was one small comfort.

        Dion was exhausted but his mind wouldn’t let him sleep yet.  In fact the pent up energy he carried wouldn’t let him sit idle, either.  He kept pacing around the cave earning him nervous looks from Terence every time he did.  He couldn’t puzzle out what his father stood to gain from any of this.  Or Ultima, if he was indeed involved as Dion suspected.  Then there was a blanket of fear that Terence would be the recipient for his own failings.  This had been too close.  A few more hours and he’d have lost him forever.  Deep down he had recognized just how powerless he was to stop it even as he struggled against the crystal fetters binding him.  He refused to allow that to dictate his actions at the time, though.  To think, he had at least put Odin on the defensive just days ago and some bits of metal and crystal alone could render him useless now.  The danger they faced on a battlefield was usual and reasonable.  What he would now have to walk toward was something which terrified him to bring Terence into.  He couldn’t lose him, not like he nearly did today.  Not for being close to him.

        “Terence,” he said softly after hours of silence.  “Name a place you wish to go and I shall see to it you’ve a home there.  Anything you want I will provide if I am able.”  There was no answer to the request, only incredulous staring and a few failed attempts to speak.  “I cannot be the reason you come to harm again.  I can offer you little now, but please allow me to ensure your safety before I must attend to other matters.”

        “You…  After all this, you would leave me behind?  I know I said you do not need me, but that never meant I desired to leave!”  He stood, agitation bubbling to the surface of his usually calm brown eyes.  “Have I ever been less than your loyal second?  Your best friend?  Have I ever been far from your side?”  Dion sighed.

        “Try as I might to persuade you otherwise over the years, no.  You have ever been standing in my shadow.  However I know where my own path will lead.  If aught were to befall you along that path I could never forgive myself.”  He knew some of this was the exhaustion, stress, and confusion talking.  Dion didn’t want to send him away any more than Terence wanted to go.  But, Light, what was he supposed to do?  He came so very close to losing the one person he cared about most in this entire world and it was all because his father had it out for him.  “Please, let me do this,” he murmured. 

        “No.”  The heat in Terence’s answer surprised him, the frustration mixing with resolve in his posture surprised him even more.  “I will not allow you to push me away because of one terrible night.  You need not bear the weight of the world on your shoulders alone, not when I am right here.  I am ashamed that I so readily gave into that fate, but I will never allow that to happen again.”

        “The Empire will be—”

        “Damn the Empire, Dion!  I am speaking to you.  Not the prince nor Bahamut nor anyone else.  You.”  Dion stiffened at the statement.  Terence never spoke like this.  The exhaustion was affecting him too, undoubtedly, but he was never so forceful.  “I know the Empire will be looking for us both.  You most of all.  I know they will do anything to force your obedience and I know I will be a weakness in that.  But I would rather be your weakness where you can see it coming rather than leave you to your fate and blindside you later.  The place I would feel safe is right beside you.”

        “Please do not do this, Terence,” he begged.  “What I am compelled to set in motion is my burden to bear.”  Terence ran a hand through his hair and turned his back on him. He walked a few steps away, muttering to himself indistinctly, then retraced his steps back to where he’d been and blew out a breath.

        “It has never been yours alone.”

        “I know you try.  I know you wish to take what you can from me but alas this cannot be given nor taken.  This will shatter the world and I would not have you be part of that.” 

        “I already know, Dion.”  Terence stepped closer, holding his gaze firmly, his voice soft and gentle.  “I already know.  I know who you are.  I know what happened.  I know of Ultima and Twinside and Origin.  I know how you died.  I know things you seem to have repressed.  I’ve known since the day you returned.” 

        “What?”  Dion stepped back involuntarily, surely gaping like a fool.  Now the trembling of his hands came more from shock than anything else.  Terence couldn’t know those names.  He kept thinking that over and over.  It was all he could force through his mind.  Terence couldn’t know those names.  He couldn’t know those names.

        “You thought you woke up here that morning but you didn’t.  I never told you what happened the night before.  I came to visit and found you on the floor delirious with a raging fever.  You told me everything.  Then when morning came you remembered naught of the conversation.  You were so terrified and confused you did not hear me trying to explain and so I kept silent.  I thought to tell you when you adjusted, but years passed and I never had the courage to do so.”

        “I…” Dion stammered without thought, ragged breathing threatening hyperventilation.  What thought could there be?  All these years and the person he was closest to knew everything.  He’d known since he was a child.  Yet he had still remained nearby.  Dion didn’t want to believe it.  There was little to doubt given what he said, though, which left him grasping at any thread which could tether him or save him from the spiral he felt himself falling into.

        “I know you never noticed the times I covered for you.  Speaking over your misspoken words, guiding you towards a forgotten destination.  Saying things I shouldn’t know just so you would speak to me honestly.  I was ever in your shadow, Dion, because it was the best place to see you.”

        “The announcement from Rosaria,” he barely breathed.  Terence nodded at the unspoken question.

        “I knew exactly what it meant.  Those that share your history.  I also knew it was we who attacked the keep when the announcement did not say.  One of the many times I said something you didn’t quite catch.”  A smirk danced on his lips with a bit of pride. 

        “But…but if you know, you must understand why I want to ensure your safety.  I cannot place you in the midst of this.  So I beg of you, name a way I can do that.”

        “I cannot do that, Dion.”

        “Why must you contradict everything I say?” Dion snapped.  Everything about the last two days was just too much to handle and he could feel himself cracking under the pressure of his reality failing once again.

        “Why must you constantly assume yours is the only way forward?” Terence snapped back with equal tone.  But then his gaze softened and he stepped in close, far closer than normal.  Dion’s breath caught in his throat.  “That night I was given something you could not bear to hold with the instruction to keep it in your stead until you were ready.  I do not believe this the best time nor place even if you are ready.  This is most like the worst time to reveal any of this.  I doubt I shall ever know what the best time may have been, if there is such a thing.  But know that I am going nowhere.  You will never be alone again.  I will see to that.  So many believe in you as a prince and a Dominant, no matter what your father says or does.  It is time you had someone to believe in as well.”

        Already a little overcome with emotion, Dion didn’t pull away when Terence reached out to place a hand on either side of his head, fingers wrapping back into his hair.  Nor did he protest or try to move when Terence pressed his lips against his in the gentlest kiss imaginable.  A breath too hard would break them apart.  That soft pressure faded in a flood of images he immediately knew to be his own memories.  All those places he’d feared were signs of his memory degrading aligned and seamlessly stitched themselves together.  The thing that had been missing from each and every one of them was emotion.  Love.  He remembered standing on that bluff above Belenus Tor with Terence.  Where there had been a jagged edge there was now a feeling of invincibility because the one he loved was beside him.  He remembered the soft caresses of Terence binding his wounds or treating the curse.  He remembered every blissful moment alone they had together.  All these years and he never realized the thing he was missing was right beside him all along.  The man he’d lost was right there.  A choked sob escaped him and he felt Terence start to pull away but he reached out and clung to him as the last of the memories settled into place, each painful one of them.

        “What did you do?” he asked in a shuddering whisper, not daring to open his eyes yet for the ridiculous fear that the one he clung to would disappear if he looked.

        “Merely returned something which belonged to you.”  At the sound of his voice still so near, Dion summoned the courage to blink open his eyes.  Terence smiled at him, a soft smile no other living would ever see.  Hesitantly he reached out to press his fingers into his hair.

        “Terence?”  It was a silly question.  He knew who stood there, who he held onto.  But he felt he was seeing him for the first time.

        “It’s good to finally see all of you, my prince.”  Terence guided him closer, pressing his forehead against Dion’s.  “Now do you see why I cannot do as you ask?  You were granted a miracle at the end of your life by Greagor knows who.  Yet I think it was I who was the lucky one.  I got to fall for you twice. And this time I will not see you face your challenges alone.” 

        “I fear I do not deserve it,” he replied tearfully.  “I could not forgive myself after what happened to you.  Everything I had ever held dear to me was gone by my own hand.  You were the last and there was only one monster who moved my hand the day I sent you away from me.”

        “What monster?”  Dion allowed his head to fall onto Terence’s shoulder.  A single tear slipped from his eyes.  Grateful though he was to have his full memory restored, the guilt and loss which went with it were still too much to bear.

        “Myself.”

        “You are anything but a monster, my prince.”

        “Would that I could believe that.”  He could forgive himself now for Twinside and for his father’s actions.  He could even forgive himself for that fatal choice in the throne room.  Though it had been his actions, another’s hand had always pushed them toward that end and he had made up for that with his life.  But not Terence.  He couldn’t forgive himself for that single decision meant to keep him safe.  He could never forget the day his world went dark looking up at that damnable crystal in the sky.

        “I should not think a monster would fight so hard to keep those he loves from harm.  He would not fight Odin alone to save a battalion of dragoons.  He would not work himself bloody to free me.”  Terence wrapped him up in his arms and Dion didn’t have the strength of will at that moment to move.  “Nor would I think a monster would allow me to hold him while he wept on my shoulder.”  For some reason that broke him more than anything.  Tears fell from his eyes in earnest and he pulled Terence tight, terrified to ever let go.  “You did terrible things then, my prince.  I will not do you the injustice of denying that.  Despite it all you work for something better.  You choose not to be the monster and you push ever onward.  Do not allow an evil god to tarnish your soul to such degree you think loneliness and death your only options once again.  I beg of you, bid farewell to the past.  I will help you forge a new future.”

        Dion sniffed and smiled at once.  He felt he had both lost and gained everything in the span of mere moments.  It was a jarring feeling.  Tears finally calming he pulled away, though he didn’t go far.  Terence never once shifted under his weight.  The rock he always was for Dion.  The single place he felt a human like any other.  Now he didn’t quite know what to do.  Their lives were so different now than they once were.  While Dion never doubted for a moment the love he still felt, he wasn’t sure what to do with it.  But Terence did.  He always did, it seemed.  His eyes flicked down towards Dion’s lips with a faint, amused twist of his own. 

        That was all the guidance Dion needed, and honestly precisely what he wanted to begin with.  He leaned in close to firmly kiss him once again.  It had been years since he’d been able to do that, not that he’d missed it apparently.  That only fueled the need to kiss him harder.  It wasn’t the same as it was.  It never would be again.  But in a strange way it was better.  Terence had always been almost meek, a byproduct of the hierarchy their relationship hid behind.  Now, despite his inexperience, he pressed forward with just as much emotion as Dion.  And when Dion broke away, Terence chased his lips for just one more.

        “Great Greagor, you are good at that,” Terence whispered.  Dion snickered.  It was an odd feeling in the midst of his situation at the moment.

        “I had a most excellent teacher.”

        “Did you now?” 

        “Truly.  I barely knew what to do the first time we kissed.  All I knew was from a book I read once and had discarded halfway through.”  Now Terence was laughing.  Dion was more struck by how easily the truth fell from his tongue.  Years of keeping it all hidden away yet it was so simple to tell Terence anything and everything.  Some things wouldn’t change, it seemed.

        Eventually they both sat along the wall of their cave behind a larger rock to conceal them further.  It was a mess of tangled limbs and awkward positions, both holding the other in some way and neither willing to let go.  Dion could almost forget about the search taking place for them at that moment.  This was one of only a handful of times he could remember being so far from anyone that they had to hide from no one.  The ability to be free was often discussed at the hideaway of the outlaws, but without Terence there, Dion had never been able to appreciate it.  Now he found himself wanting Terence to know everything, to show him everything.  He couldn’t let him go again even if it was to keep him safe.

        “You understood the message Amelia gave you, I presume,” Terence said after a while.  “You know where we are going?”

        “I did.  I am now certain at the least the elder Rosfield returned and perhaps his brother as well.  Ifr—, I mean, Clive was the only one in the room when Harpocrates presented me with a wild wyvern tail as a means of setting my mind at ease.  The roots of both wild and cultivated wyvern tails are the same, he said, yet the wild variant blooms a shade of purple due to the harsh environment.”

        “Our roots do not define us.”

        “Precisely.  I suspect Amelia was a member of an organization answering only to the Phoenix.  If I am correct, Joshua has either returned as well or Clive has told him.  So, are you prepared to take your first steps into this mess I foolishly tried to keep you from?”  Dion heard the smile on Terence’s lips when he spoke.

        “I am, my prince.”  He’d missed hearing that from Terence, or missed what he always associated it with.  Ever and always was he the single person that a title could mean so much from.  “Where do we go from here?”

        “The only place the Rosfields are likely to be at this point in time: Rosalith.”

Chapter Text

        Elwin frowned as he twisted the quill in his hand.  This needed done.  One signature.  That was all he needed.  Signing his name on a document had never seemed such a monumental task.  Freeing Bearers within the Duchy.  The only reason he’d waited so long was because of the knowledge his children brought with them for the future.  He thought it might make it easier when the time came to have a means of replacing the admittedly vital services Bearers provided.  And it probably had, or will.  Whatever happened, his name would go down in history for this.  He just needed to make sure the time was right because there would be no stopping events once he signed this.  Which is why it had already been sitting on his desk for nigh on a month at this point.  Surely he must be a coward for knowing what needed to be done and not having the strength of will to go through with it.  Then again, this was no mere decree, either.  Nerves were to be expected.  This would break a centuries old treaty everyone in the Twins had agreed to.  But everything had changed.  He could only wait so long.  Elwin, Clive, Joshua, Jill, they had all laid the framework for this.  They’d done everything they could. 

        Just sign like any other document, he thought viciously to himself.  It would happen that a knock on the door interrupted the moment he set his quill to the paper.

        “Enter,” he called.  Somewhat to his surprise, Cid walked through the door.  They’d had little chance to speak since the man arrived here nearly two weeks ago.  It proved poor timing on Elwin’s part, combined with a desire to allow Cid and those with him to settle themselves better.  They’d been through quite the ordeal.  The man had already made himself a fixture at the university and was a wellspring of new ideas.  It was easy to see why he got along so easily with the others.

        “Spare a few minutes?” he asked, hand still on the doorknob in case the answer was no.  Elwin laid the quill down on his desk and stood, gesturing to empty seats across the room.

        “Of course.  I apologize for my scarcity of late.  You chose a poor time to arrive in Rosalith.  For me, at least.”  Cid closed the door behind him and walked over to the offered seat, stretching into it as comfortable as if he’d always been here.  “How has our city treated you?”

        “Where do I begin?  Walked through Rosalith once or twice once upon a time.  Difference is night and day.  Course, now that I think on it, both those times were after, well…”  He trailed off with an apologetic twist of his head.  “Wouldn’t take much to get better than that.  No offense.”

        “None taken, I assure you.  It was a near thing, avoided only by good fortune and Eikonic intervention.  I imagine the Phoenix chose the timing deliberately, yet I have wondered more than once at that fortuitous timing.  One day later and I fear our fates would have been sealed.”

        “Lucky for us all, then.  I’m still having a hard time believing what you’ve done these last years.  Seems like a dream.”  Elwin chuckled at the exasperated look on Cid’s face.  He didn’t know the man well, but he had the impression he was not so easily shaken.

        “We have come a long way, true.”  If only he could take that last step…

        “If you don’t mind my asking, how long did it take your sons to convince you to go along with this crazy idea?”  Elwin cocked an eyebrow at him.

        “You think this all the doing of my sons?”  Cid scoffed with a wry twist to his lips.

        “And just like that I’m inclined to rethink the question.”

        “It may surprise you to learn that they had little to convince me of.  I had already formulated ideas for many things before this happened, though I apparently never had the chance to enact any of it in your original time.  Long have I thought the plight of Bearers a stain on us all and sought to ease their burden where I could.  With the encroaching Blight, I was certain we would need all our strength.”

        “Well, color me impressed.”  Cid laughed.  “Your boys come by it honestly, don’t they?  Jill too, I reckon.”

        “I fear I had little to do with that in reality.  Those plans reached few ears.  I had intended to make it known to them after Phoenix Gate, but…”  No, the drive his children had they earned on their own.  Wishing they’d learned it an easier way wouldn’t make it so.

        “Still impressed you agree with them.  Not many in the Twins would have.”

        “And what of you, Cid?  This is as much your doing.  What set you upon this quest?”

        “A lot of little things that turned into a big thing,” Cid replied, leaning back in his chair casually with an arm draped over the table beside him.  “Watching Barnabas shipping off Bearers as feed to a Kuza beast, seeing families get ripped apart and no one cared, Benedikta sinking so far into the belief we should rule the world for being powerful.  The last strike for me was a friend of mine who lost his son to the brand.  He never wanted to give him up but everyone he knew turned on him and pointed the finger right to his door when the constables came calling.  Realized no one was standing up for the poor bastards.  Didn’t particularly care for the rude awakening that Dominants weren’t in much better shape.  Only difference was we had the freedom to do something about it.  So I did.”

        “Were you able to help this friend of yours this time?”  Cid shook his head sadly.

        “I tried, but I couldn’t find him in time.  He worked on a ship.  Little difficult to find in a pinch.”  He sighed, guilt tinging his features for a moment.  “Anyway, once I figured out what was causing the Blight, I figured I couldn’t just go around freeing Bearers for them to end up dead in a ditch with everyone else when there was nowhere left to run.”

        “And so you struck out for the Mothercrystals.”  This much of Cid’s tale Elwin knew.

        “Tried, at least.  Bahamut let me have it for trying the first time.  Speaking of, you know the royal prince of light is probably in the same spot as the rest of us, right?  If I’m here, from what I was told of the end, it’s a reasonable bet.” 

        “I have begun to assume that the case, yes.”  Elwin wasn’t entirely ready to think about that just yet.  If Prince Dion also returned, the likelihood he, too, would end up in the Duchy at some point was high.  That would make six of the eight.  That math made him very, very nervous.  It would make things much easier if he were here as an envoy of Sanbreque, but Elwin had never been able to make great strides in mending their relationship with the Empire after Phoenix Gate.  That scenario was probably not a likely one because of it.

        “This will all blow up in our faces one day and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it,” Cid murmured, looking over at the cold hearth.  “Five of us were brought back to change things, starting with Rosaria, and I brought a sixth.  No way that’s going unnoticed forever.  Only question is how much borrowed time do we have?”  Cid had a sharp mind, it was plain to see.  “Sanbreque will act first, I’d bet a talent on it.  Fools are too obsessed with themselves to look around.  They’ll see multiple Dominants and think it a threat.”  He shook himself out of the thought.  “Sorry.  Habit.”

        “The thoughts of a lord commander do not fade easily.”

        “Not when they’re mixed with leading a group of outlaws trying to stay out of sight in the deadlands, no.”

        “Cid, I owe you everything for saving my children.  That is a debt not easily repaid.  So please do not mistake this question for my being ungrateful or suggestive.  You’ve earned your freedom alongside Benedikta’s.  What do you intend to do now?” 

        “I don’t know,” he admitted somewhat ruefully.  “Way I see it, I’ve got two options.  Stay here to help however I can or go back to being the outlaw and getting who I can to freedom.  Either way, I’ve got friends I need to find again.  Clive can’t do that one for me.”

        “A difficult decision.”

        “Knowing a god’s descent is upon us eventually?  It is.  Plus I know it must be weighing on you to have so many Dominants here at once, even if one of them is a secret.”

        “I won’t lie, that has been a real concern.  I find myself struggling between the world I know and the one I strive for, that my children fought and died for.”  Making a snap judgement call, Elwin rose to fetch the parchment from his desk.  After a moment’s hesitation he handed it to Cid.  His eyes widened as he read.

        “Bloody hell…  You’re really going through with it?”  Amazement colored his voice.

        “I always planned to.  I’ve known for years freeing Bearers was the only way we overcome the struggles coming our way, though at the time I’d thought that the Blight would be the worst of it.  Now that the time has come, the final step is proving difficult.”

        “World you know and world you want,” Cid murmured.

        “Precisely.  I know what this will mean.  It is the right thing to do but there is no going back from this.  Every nation in the Twins will have their eyes upon us, more than they already do.  It will be up to us to stand against them and to preserve the freedom we create when our Dominants must do battle with Ultima.  Could we ever be prepared for that?  That question is what stays my hand.”

        “Wish I could tell you you’re wrong.  Or that you could be ready.”  Cid handed the paper back to him and stood, wandering to the window to peer out in obvious thought.  “When I met Clive, I thought I had all the answers.  I was so fed-up with all of us being used for our gifts then discarded like we were nothing.  All I wanted was for us, Dominants and Bearers, to be able to choose how we died instead of letting others dictate that for us.  I pushed myself to the brink for years.  Could barely move my own arm for the curse and that was the best of it.  All to try giving the few I could get to a chance to die how they wanted rather than turning to stone and fading away at the whims of another.  Never occurred to me that we could be fighting for a life too.  Not until Clive.  Lad changed everything. 

        “I look around here and see what that dream could be.  He made it real enough after I was gone.  Here you all showed the rest of them it could be done.  You Rosfields are a unique breed and you rule over a Duchy to match.  The future of Valisthea is going to be written in these lands, I can feel it.”  Cid nodded to himself, seeming satisfied with what he’d just talked himself into.  “I’m not one for oaths or formal declarations of loyalty.  You find your people and you stick with them.  Doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.  If you’re planning to free Bearers, you’ll need all the help you can get.  So if you’ll have me, I’ll help how I can.  Rather not bring Ramuh himself into a war unless Titan gets his knickers in a wad.  Eikons never should have been used for war, if you ask me.  The cost isn’t worth it.”

        “In many ways,” Elwin agreed.  He’d watched his father die of the curse fighting a war that Elwin then had to finish.  The reports claimed it was a sudden, unexpected death, but Elwin had been at his side for two days watching the color leave him as the stone slowly stopped his heart.  He knew his son could go the same way, well before his time.  Now the same worry extended to Clive and Jill as well.  He refused to use them as weapons for the wars of humanity, not like this.  They were meant for greater things. 

        “That said, I’d hate to overstay my welcome.  And I do still have friends I need to find.  Pulled most of them out of a sorry state I wouldn’t want to leave them to.  Might be best if we had somewhere to base ourselves that isn’t right here.”

        “Hm.  I will give it some thought.”  Elwin smirked.  “I’m sure we can do something better than the deadlands.”

        “And I will thank you for it,” Cid laughed and extended his hand.  Elwin took it, still not sure how he felt about so many Dominants in one place.  But the man was right.  There was no avoiding what was coming for them.  The world they all wished to create would begin here with Dominants working together, and that world would not come to be without hard choices.  About the time he released Cid’s hand there was a small knock on the door before it swung open with little care.

        “Joshua?”  His son walked in with paper in hand looking a little disturbed.

        “Father.  I’m afraid something dreadful has happened.  I just received word from the Undying in Oriflamme.”  Joshua handed over the transcription from the stolas he received.  Elwin bit back the wince as he read it.

        “Problems for His Radiance?” Cid quipped.  “Sorry, not my place.  Keep forgetting that.”

        “Do not apologize, Cid,” Joshua said.  “I would have told you anyway.  Tharmr made for Belenus Tor already.”

        “Belenus Tor?  He showed up there right before that business at Drake’s Head, didn’t he?”

        “Correct.  Which makes this incursion roughly six years too early and directly bypassing the Battle of the Twin Realms.  Why, I could not say.  I could also not say why he called Dion out on the eve of battle to engage him personally and then quit the field when he could have simply killed him.  I would be extremely concerned were you not certain he knew nothing of our future.”

        “He didn’t know.  He’d’ve done something about it if he did.  He was getting a little antsy to go after Bahamut before I left, though.  Could be my taking Benedikta forced his hand.  Rumor has it Bahamut’s not been seen since he was found.  We all know how strong he’s supposed to be, but if Barnabas is trying to push him toward Clive, he’d want to make sure he’s ready for it.  And right now, Barnabas has nothing but himself to show Ultima.”

        “Mayhap it is that simple.  What is not simple is what happened upon Dion’s return to Oriflamme.  The Emperor had him and his second in command arrested on charges of treason for that battle with Odin.  I had dispatched the Undying to deliver a message to Dion.  The agent took it upon herself to free him and his second when she could not see him before his arrest.”

        “What in Greagor’s name is that about?” Cid pondered aloud. 

        “I’ve no idea.  Dion loves Sanbreque dearly.  He would not endanger it by colluding with Tharmr, particularly if he retains his memory.”

        “Which means,” Elwin interjected, “we shall like as not have our last player soon approaching.  If he is a part of this, and we must assume for now that he is, the only place he could go is where he might find an ally.”

        “He will,” Joshua agreed.  “If he thinks we might be able to help him spare Sanbreque, he will come to us.  I do not see him simply abandoning all to its fate by disappearing forever.”

        “And that is some good news in disguise,” Cid agreed with a wry twist to his lips.  “You might as well sign that paper now, Your Grace.  Once Sanbreque finds out Dion is here, there’ll be war anyway.  Doubt they’ll leave Dhalmekia out of it this time.”

        Elwin caught Cid’s eye.  He had a point.  No matter what was happening in Sanbreque, they had been looking for a reason to attempt an invasion for years as it was.  More than once since Phoenix Gate Rosarian troops had skirmished with them along the border, albeit often under the guise of something else.  It was only a matter of time.  It was always only a matter of time with or without the decree he’d nearly signed every day for a month.  There was a time to wait and a time to act.  He could hide behind his fears no longer.  Elwin took up the parchment which now lay forgotten on a table.  In a few quick strides he crossed his office, took up his quill, dipped it in ink, and signed without taking a seat. 

        “It is done,” he said softly.  The weight of his name on that single decree would forever be upon him now.

        “And thus did the Grand Duchy of Rosaria begin to remake the world,” Cid commented in almost reverent tone. 

        The future they had all spoken of so many times, the freedom they’d all worked toward creating, was not brought into the world amidst fanfare nor disaster.  It came as a quiet whisper with only three to witness the occasion.  The room bore the silence of what he had just done.  Nothing would change it, consequences be damned.  And when he tore his eyes away from the document, he found Joshua nearby, beaming with pride.  That one thing calmed Elwin’s racing heart.  It was now his turn to take the step into their world.

Meanwhile…

        “I had thought you would have more than a fortnight before being sent to fetch materials for Mid.”  Clive rolled his eyes at Jill’s teasing.

        “I blame Uncle Byron for mentioning the stuff.”  He’d gone out early this morning to find a few handfuls of Fallen ceramic for Mid to study, though as he sat here in the gardens watching her, he was less certain if it was study or play.  Uncle Byron had mentioned the borderline mystical properties of it several days ago and that there were some large chunks of it nearby.  Ever since Mid had pestered her new favorite person to go find some for her. 

        Some things haven’t changed, he thought.  Despite the words being tinged with mild annoyance, the familiarity was comforting.

        “Did you not threaten Cidolfus with these apparently common supply trips?” Benedikta commented, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed watching Mid. 

        “He wanted the opportunity to speak with Father.  They’ve barely had the chance to exchange pleasantries as yet.  There will be many more demands from Mid, I’ve no doubt of that.”  Benna hummed a moment, not turning away from the child.

        “I suppose it would only be right that I offer my help too.”  Clive gave a small laugh.

        “I will take all the help I can get.”  Suddenly Mid drew her arm back and threw a piece of ceramic surprisingly hard against the side of the building.  Somehow Benedikta caught the chunk in a tiny torrent of wind mere inches before it shattered a window.

        “Midadol!  You know better than to throw things at windows!” she scolded in irritation.

        “I didn’t mean to hit the window, Benna.  It was an experiment to see if it would break with force!”  Benedikta huffed and strode over to the child for some kind of lecture.

        “Rosalith may never recover from Mid’s interference,” Jill said quietly through an amused giggle.  She moved behind where he was seated on a bench and draped her arms around his shoulders, fingers idly playing with a string on his tunic.  He leaned into her carefully, just enough weight for them both to be comfortable without knocking her over.  By unspoken agreement they’d both begun reaching for one another more brazenly recently, caring little for what others saw.  Perhaps they felt equally bold or perhaps Cid’s presence made them feel their old lives more keenly.  Mostly it was simply that they’d already been caught curled together in Mid’s blanket fort that morning.  The proverbial cat was out of the bag now; no sense denying it.  Clive didn’t expect he could deny it if he tried.  He thought he remembered being half awake and, not processing their circumstances, nuzzled into Jill’s neck as he so often did in the mornings.  Right in front of the one who’d woken them. 

        Mid’s giggling pulled his attention back to her.  Benedikta was pushing a piece of the ceramic high into the air with her wind and letting it fall back to the ground.  Otto told him that when Mid was young, she and Cid alike would run through the hideaway in a world all their own.  He had a distinct feeling that would only grow with Benedikta here too.  It was an image he could all too easily see in the hideaway.  Trying to transpose that image into the castle proved more difficult.  They’d had their fun as children, sure, but he couldn’t remember a single time they’d dared show the level of energy he knew Mid to have.  They couldn’t.  Growing up in an active castle meant they must always be quiet and respectful.  There was no end to the rules.  He wondered what it would have been like to grow up without that.  Hopefully the castle would not become oppressive for Mid.  He liked to think they all appreciated family, and all that meant, too much to enforce such rigor now, at least as they could.  Now that his mother was gone especially.  She was the worst for demanding quiet obedience.  Like she assumed her children were born fully functional adults and she intended all to see the child-sized adults she’d created.  Thank the Founder Mid would never have to deal with that at the very least.  Although, perhaps the young engineer would have been the very one to break his mother’s spirit on those rules.  It would have been a battle for the ages, certainly.

        “What are you thinking about so intently?” Jill asked.

        “My mother, actually.”  Immediately she tensed.  “I was wondering what the clash of wills between her and Mid might have been like.  Not that I would ever wish to subject Mid to her.”  Jill relaxed, finding the same safety he did in the purely hypothetical imagining. 

        “In a word?  Explosive.”

        “Hm.  I was thinking nothing short of war, yet I think explosive better covers it.”  Clive chuckled, covering her hands with his.

        “You know she’s already been accompanying Cid to the university.”

        “That doesn’t surprise me.  She built the orchestrion not much older than this.”

        “We should mention that.  I would love to have music again.”

        “My lady?”  Jill moved her arms to rest on his shoulders at the sound of the small voice nearby.  “Forgive me the interruption.”  One of the maids, a particular friend of Joshua’s if Clive remembered right, stood nearby with her hands clasped in front of her.

        “What is it, Betsy?”

        “There is someone here to see you, my lady.”  He felt Jill’s surprised twitch against his shoulder.

        “Me?  Who is it?”

        “She presented herself as Malle Ridgeway.  When I asked after the reason for her visit, she said it was a matter for you alone.”  Clive frowned.

        “Is this someone you know?” he asked looking up at her.  She shook her head.

        “No.  I’ve never heard the name before.”

        “Shall I send her away, my lady?”  Jill thought a moment before answering.

        “No.  I want to see what she wants.”

        “I’m coming with you,” Clive quickly inserted.  Jill nodded and Betsy led the way to a small reception room they used far more frequently than the larger formal one.  Inside waited a young woman who could not have been more than fifteen with incredibly fair hair and pale blue eyes.  She leapt to her feet the moment they entered, Clive before Jill.  A slight twist to her mouth when her gaze met his turned quickly when she saw Jill. 

        “My lady Shiva,” she said reverently as she sank to one knee.  Betsy closed the door behind them without comment.

        “Is there something I can do for you, Miss Ridgeway?” Jill asked courteously. 

        “No, my lady.  I am here to offer something to you, if you allow it.”

        “And what might that be?”  The girl hesitated, head turning almost imperceptibly towards Clive while still looking at the ground.  “What you mean to offer can be said to us both.”  She winced.

        “He has your confidence?”

        “Without question,” Jill answered in the span of a single heartbeat.

        “Forgive me, my lady.  My lord marquess.  I am new at this.”  Jill looked back to Clive with a raised eyebrow for a question.  He shrugged a shoulder and gently pressed her on with a hand on her lower back. 

        “Then let us make this easier.  My name is Jill.  This is Clive.  Your name was Malle, correct?”

        “Yes, my lady.” 

        “Please, take a seat.  You need not stand on such ceremony.”  Malle hesitated a moment before standing and taking a deep breath.  Then she sat down, Jill following.  Clive chose to stand behind her seat, leaning against the wall. 

        “Forgive me,” Malle said again.  “I have no experience in court.  I fear I will make a blunder I cannot undo.”

        “You’ll find Clive and I care less for that than you might think.”

        “Thank you.”  She cleared her throat and adjusted her posture.  Clive had the sudden feeling that what she meant to say had been rehearsed.  “As you know, my name is Malle Ridgeway.  I am descended of the Northern clans, though I have spent most of my life  here.  I also recently became the seanchaí for the remnants of my clan.”

        “Seanchaí?” Clive asked.  “I’ve never heard the term.”

        “A keeper of oral tradition,” Jill answered.  He nodded and Malle continued, only a little annoyed that he’d interrupted.

        “Yes.  My grandmother, the previous seanchaí, passed a month ago.  I was her apprentice.  My grandmother had no love of Rosarians after the war.  Though she lived on Rosarian lands, she remained as far to the north as possible and held onto everything she believed made her a Northerner.  She was like that to the end.  As a result, she harbored a deep disdain for the Silvermane and his actions, and for you, my lady, by proxy.  She believed you had given yourself over to Rosaria and abandoned your heritage.”

        “I see.”

        “As her apprentice I was taught all the oral traditions of our clan.  Most matter little now in the face of the Blight.  There was one, however, my grandmother and I fought endlessly over.  You see, Rosaria is the only home I’ve ever truly known.  I was far too young to remember the north well.  There is a story meant to be passed along to the next Dominant of Shiva that my grandmother refused to relay because of your Rosarian connections.  The first thing I did after laying her to rest was set out to tell you that story.”  Jill leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms in front of her.

        “Your grandmother was not entirely wrong, I fear.  It is nigh impossible to retain a heritage you were too young to remember.”  Clive bit back a grimace.  She may have been young, yes, but his mother certainly hadn’t helped with that.  And then she spent years in the Iron Kingdom.  He knew she felt she could hardly be considered a Northerner after that.  It was something they could never completely fix even with the Phoenix’s intervention.

        “I understand.  I truly do.  I remember so little of the North it could be passed off for a dream.  Rosaria was kind to us when they had no right to be.  That is what I remember, not far off dreams of a land that no longer exists.  Grandmother hated the idea of Rosaria gaining this along with everything else.  She remembered you as warriors.  I remember you as saviors.” 

        Clive remembered talks of the Northerners after the war, when the Blight swallowed the last remnants of inhabitable land along the border.  There had been no end to the disagreements it seemed.  So many mistrusted them, the same as this girl’s grandmother mistrusted Rosaria.  Few ever noticed the Northerner in the castle that had done nothing against them.  After weeks of debate his father had put his foot down, declaring that Rosaria would take the refugees they could and try to assist them in establishing villages in the far reaches of the Duchy.

        “Thank you, Malle.  So what is this story you wish to share with me?”  With a calm breath, Malle launched into a perfect recitation of at least part of the story, clearly more confident with her stories than with speaking to strangers.

        “Harken one to snow’s fair call from whatever home you’ve found.  For we are destined to fall, our bless’d gift raze us to ground.  The eye of the drake trembles, long hidden teeth now we see.  The eye of the drake vengeful, the sins of ice ne’er be eased.  Harken one to north’s pleading sound, lest more be lost to wraith’s claw.  Find me, oh chosen daughter.  Seek.  We wait in Shiva’s Call.”  It was a simple verse likely from something larger, but those words clung to the walls as a specter.  A haunting warning passed through the years.

        “What does that mean?” Jill asked warily.

        “Given what I know of our history, some few realized that Drake’s Eye was going to collapse, or at the least they knew something was wrong.  While some of the other seanchaithe think it a warning or description or perhaps even a call to be remembered, my grandmother and I always believed it was more.  This was what she did not want Rosaria knowing.  Shiva’s Call is the name of a place considered sacred.  It is accessible only to Shiva’s Dominant.  We believe that it is an appeal to seek something hidden within Shiva’s Call.  You are the first who could find out, which is why I felt obligated to share this with you.”  Jill quickly looked up to Clive.  They were thinking the exact same thing.  The Apodytery.  “I see this sounds familiar to you.  I know the rough location of the site.  Let me draw you a map as best I am able should you choose to use it.”

        Half an hour and a few pieces of paper later they bid farewell to Malle at the castle doors and retreated to the safety of their room to discuss the matter.  Well, discuss was too strong a word in Clive’s mind.  He was already running through what they would need to make the journey.  It seemed a naturally foregone conclusion that they would be doing this.  The trouble was the trip through the Blight.  Just because they lived in it didn’t make trips through it easy exactly.  They would need quite a few provisions given how deep into the Blight this was.  Once the door behind them was closed, Clive walked over to the armoire to dig out his pack.  It had been so long since he’d needed it, the thing had gotten somewhat buried.

        “Clive, I want to go find this place, even if there’s nothing there.”  It sounded like she was still near the door.  He scowled into the dark depths of the armoire.  That pack was in here somewhere, he was certain of it.  His silence seemed to spur Jill to explain herself.  “We both were thinking of the Apodytery.  The place can hardly be deemed special given what we now know of it, but we cannot deny that you and Joshua alike have had very real experiences there.”

        “True,” he replied without stopping.  Was that it?

        “I want to see what a similar site for Shiva might hold.”

        “You may wish to be careful what you ask for.” 

        “Are you actually listening to me, Clive?” Jill demanded just as his hand brushed over the familiar leather he was looking for.

        “There you are.”  With a tug the pack came free of the armoire, Jill’s getting caught by a tangled ring to dangle haphazardly over the floor.  He set them in the chair then turned his attention to Jill who was staring at the packs with a puzzled expression.  “Of course I was listening, my lady.  And I will be happy to listen further if you wish to speak.”

        “You merely assumed we were going without it,” Jill guessed, finally smiling.  He pulled her into his arms.

        “I did.  I recovered what I repressed in the Apodytery.  Joshua connected with the Phoenix in the Apodytery.  If this place could be anything similar, it would only be right for you to have the same opportunity if that is you wish.  Never could I deny you that.”

        “Should we bring Joshua with us?”

        “I think he may hide in our packs if we tried to leave him behind.”  Jill laughed and hugged him tighter. 

        “Thank you.”

        “For what?”

        “Being you.”  Clive didn’t really understand what that meant exactly, but he smiled anyway, content that she was happy.

        That night they were all able to have dinner together, something they’d only been able to do once in recent weeks.  The atmosphere of the dining room was tense.  They all seemed a bit on edge and Clive really wasn’t sure why.  He and Jill were waiting for a good time to bring up the visit and the trip they planned, but everyone else?  Cid had intended to speak with Father today.  Maybe something had gone poorly?  Even Mid seemed to pick up on the atmosphere and kept quiet.  No one seemed to want to speak first.  Uncomfortable yet unwilling to break the quiet, Clive caught Joshua’s eye across the table.  He nodded towards their father and arched an eyebrow.

        Is all well?  Joshua made a couple small hand motions.

        Now?  Yes.  Tomorrow?  We shall see.  Clive frowned.

        What does that mean?  A nod toward their father and a few more motions.

        Father signed the decree freeing Bearers today.  It will be issued on the morrow.  Clive felt his eyes grow wide, along with a swell of pride.  It was no small thing, what he had done.  Knowing the intent was always there and having actually gone through with it were quite different.

        “Which part are you telling him about?” Cid said suddenly, glancing their direction before returning his attention to the vegetables remaining on his plate.  “The decree or Sanbreque?”

        “I was getting to Sanbreque,” Joshua grumbled.  Clive snickered.

        “Now that the quiet’s broken, can we all be a part of this conversation?”  Cid really disliked their silent discussions, it seemed.

        “Decree?”  Jill leaned over close to Clive to ask the question.  When he explained, she had the same pride in her eyes that he felt.  It was a little odd seeing his father hide from the looks behind his wine.  “Then what is this of Sanbreque?”  Joshua sighed, shoving the bread plate loaded with carrots he’d picked out of his food away from him like the mere sight was a distraction.

        “Things have taken a complicated turn, I’m afraid.” 

        Clive began getting very nervous as the story unfolded.  There were so many things wrong with it he didn’t know where to begin.  Tharmr making moves already wasn’t entirely unsurprising given that Cid and Benna were here, but to make for Belenus Tor so soon?  That was a bold move even for him.  Then there was the insanity of those charges and the fact that they’d had to run from Oriflamme.  Someone clearly still had Slyvestre’s ear, or he was just a lunatic in his own right.  Clive wouldn’t say that to Dion when he saw him, but that wasn’t entirely out of the question as far as he was concerned.

        “And what of you?” Benedikta asked suddenly in Clive and Jill’s direction.  “Who was your visitor?”

        “Oh, um.  No one,” Jill said, surprising Clive.  Her eyes were telling him to keep quiet.  After a moment of thought, he understood why.  Bearers being freed was unpredictable.  Anything could happen.  Rosalith itself would likely be alright, but elsewhere there could potentially be trouble and they may be needed.  Combined with the uncertainty of Sanbreque’s situation, this may not be the ideal time to be traipsing into the Blight.  But it was far too easy to see the look passing between them for anyone to let it go.

        “This does not look as nothing, Sister,” Joshua said, eyes pulling with worry.  “Is all well?”

        “It is,” she replied.  “The visitor was someone with a message.  That’s all.  It can wait until things are settled.”

        “What was it, if I may ask?”

        “You might as well tell him,” Clive said with a small shake of his head.   “You know he is relentless.”  Joshua shot him a look, but Clive gave him a lopsided smirk.  He was rather grateful for that relentless pursuit his brother had in this instance.  It convinced Jill to share the story and the idea that there may be something waiting for her in Shiva’s Call.  As much as the Duchy could potentially need them, he dreaded the idea of Jill putting herself last in the list as she ever did.

        “We never knew of this place before.  It can wait a while longer,” she finished. 

        “Does it need to wait?” Benedikta asked.  Jill hesitated a moment.

        “It wouldn’t be right of us to simply leave when there is such uncertainty.  Not for something I imagine will avail us little in the end.”

        “You’re too much like your man there,” Cid drawled.  “You’ll always find a reason not to do something for yourself.”

        “But—”

        “Go,” Benna insisted.  “We shall hold the line in your stead.  Won’t we, Cidolfus?”

        “Gladly,” he nodded.

        “If this is something you wish to do, you should see it done,” Elwin agreed.  “Sanbreque will make no moves any time soon.  Even should Prince Dion come to Rosaria the journey will take time.  The reaction to my decree, in truth, should be overseen by those without magic.  Bearers need to see that we are willing to help and those unwilling to give up those Bearers need to see that we will not compromise on this.  The intervention of a Dominant, even if they are acting the part of House Rosfield, would only complicate matters.  It could be seen as rebellion by some.”

        “I agree,” Joshua said with a pensive nod.  “Our Eikons and our status may war with each other to produce the opposite effect we wish.  I feel little reason not to insist I accompany you to the north, then.  I have been through the Blight there before, though I do not know if this Shiva’s Call was one of our stops or not.  I do not recall a place I could not enter, but the north is vast.”

        “You need not convince us Joshua,” Clive stopped him.  “We were going to ask anyway.”  He turned toward Cid and Benna.  “But are you certain you wish to keep an eye on things while we are away?  It is a rude thing to ask of guests.”  Benna smirked, showing some emotion between happiness and sorrow.

        “Of course I’m certain.  I may have been here only a short while, yet I feel it is more a home than Stonhyrr ever could be.  I never knew what I lacked before.  Now that I do, it would be a privilege to help keep an eye on it.”

        “Goes a long way to repaying our stay, I imagine,” Cid added. 

        “There is nothing to repay,” Elwin announced, “but I would gladly accept your assistance at any time.  The fact that you are not known to the Duchy as Dominants may prove more helpful should things take an unfortunate turn.”  Clive looked to Jill and Joshua, an excited thrum quivering through him.

        “It sounds as if we have preparations to make.”

        Jote knocked on Joshua’s door.  She’d barely seen him in the last few days and she wasn’t entirely sure why.  He wasn’t avoiding her that she could tell, but something had him running every direction.  Usually he told her of these things; this time he didn’t.  She couldn’t help the fear that this was on purpose.  Deep down she knew, from the moment Cid and Benna appeared in the marshes, she knew.  Things were not going to be the calm pace they’d been these last years.  Something was coming.  Their arrival was the pin to burst the bubble they’d been living in.  What that meant, she wasn’t sure.

        “Come in!”  She tried to stop that whirl of thought as she stepped through the door.  When her eyes fell on a pack he was desperately trying to cram something into, the whirl became a torrent.

        “Going somewhere?”  It was hard not to notice the way his eyes brightened just a tiny bit at the sound of her voice.  It was hard not to notice that this, in turn, made her smile wider.

        “Jote!  I apologize for my absence recently.  Jill and Clive are headed north.”  He frowned at his pack when it didn’t close.  “I elected to travel with them.”

        “North?  Where are they bound?”  She stepped over to his pack and quirked a judgmental eyebrow at him.  This was never going to fit in a single pack without some serious interference.  Joshua shrugged in answer to the unspoken comment.

        “Into the Northern Territories, or what once were the Territories.  Little is left now.  A clan seanchaí told Jill of a place supposedly only accessible to Shiva’s Dominant.  She was quite keen to see what it might contain.”

        “That sounds a great deal like Phoenix Gate.”

        “It does, hence the curiosity.  It is known as Shiva’s Call, a coincidence I imagine is not coincidence.”

        “That sounds promising.”  For what, Jote had no idea.  She tried to keep her voice neutral as she pulled things out of his pack to arrange better, Joshua letting her do it.  Would he let her go with them, she wondered?

        “It seems quite the fascinating story.  The accounts suggest some, including the Dominant of that era, knew Drake’s Eye would soon collapse.  There is no known account of the fall of a Mothercrystal to what we assume is natural causes.  If true, that would mean something was detectable by others rather than it being a sudden event.  This in turn brings a great deal of questions to mind.  If this seanchaí is correct, there could be answers to a few of them within Shiva’s Call.” 

        Jote smiled, listening to him as he paced.  He was as excited as Torgal at a festival.  Admittedly, she did lose her focus on his words when he began postulating about things she didn’t fully understand like aether flows and crystal structure, but it was still adorable.  If this was how he was before a trip of discovery, what might he be like in the midst of those discoveries?  He peaked over her shoulder about the time she pulled the laces tight, everything that should never have fit in a single pack now nestled safely inside.  His hand came up to rest on her opposite shoulder, squeezing it warmly, and she had to bite back the gasp that wanted to escape her at the motion.  From the grin upon his lips toward the pack, she didn’t think he even realized he’d done it.

        “You were always magic when it came to packing.”  Heat flushed her cheeks at the compliment.  Or maybe it was the arm around her.  Either way, she didn’t want it to stop.  But of course it did.  “I expect we should be gone perhaps three weeks, mayhap longer.  Traversing the Blight can be slow and tedious.”

        “Is it just to be the three of you?” she asked carefully.

        “Yes.  And Torgal, of course.  Although it has been some time, we have traveled much together.  We’ve little need of guards or escorts.  In the Blight, that would actually prove more problematic.”  That was the answer she’d been expecting.  It still stung.  If Joshua realized what the real question there was, he gave no indication, instead opening a compartment of his desk to dig for something.  Which meant it was on her if she wanted to be a part of this.  This was the moment he would have to decide.  The moment that terrified her.  Would he let her in?  Steeling her nerves with nails digging in her palm, she forced her tone to remain neutral.

        “I would like to go with you.”  Joshua glanced her way for a moment in surprise, then returned to what he was looking for in his desk.

        “Why would you wish to do that?  The Blight is hardly a grand spectacle to behold.  And dirty.  Flames, the dust goes everywhere.”  His voice was a bit too tight to be a natural statement.  He knew.

        “We both know, Joshua.  Must we hide behind statements which do not mean what they say?”  His hand stilled on his desk.  Then he sighed.  Jote pressed what little advantage she might have.  “I have been training for years so that I could help you, so that I could go with you when the time came and you would not need to protect me as you did that day with the stranglethorns.”

        “There are other ways to help,” he murmured.  Her heart sank.  “I’m sorry, Jote.  That business with Benedikta dredged up some long-buried feelings I know not what to do with.”  He didn’t turn around, leaning on his desk with his head hanging, gathering his words slowly.  “These last years that we have been friends before anything else have meant everything to me.  Yet the closer we become, the more I fear moments such as Caer Norvent or any other time I remember you being injured at my side.  I am so tired of others being hurt for my sake.  Be it you or Clive or Jill or Shields.  It was only through sheer stubbornness that Clive eventually relented to let me help him outside the hideaway rather than keeping me cocooned in a net of safety.  Jill was no better.  If something happened to you trying to protect me, I would never forgive myself.  I needed your aid too much before to let you go.  I no longer need you beside me.  I…”  What began as carefully selected words became a flood and she was certain he never meant to say half of them.  But he did.  And he couldn’t take them back despite the wince she saw.  She understood his feelings.  For the most part.  Yet…

        “You don’t need me,” she murmured.  That part had cut her.  Reason tried to argue that it wasn’t what he meant, but the cut was still there.  It burned deep into her fears and uncertainties.  Joshua, to his credit, did spin around at the sound of her voice.

        “Jote, that’s not…”  Uncertainty of his own that she could see in his eyes stopped him.  His hand half-reached for her then fell back to his side.  Not trusting her voice, she nodded and stalked to the door.  It shouldn’t upset her this much, should it?  No, of course it should.  Brushing her aside because he was afraid. 

        Do not give him the opportunity to keep you away.  Benedikta’s words rang in her head, pausing the hand on the doorknob.  Do not let him assume he knows everything now.  Prove you will catch him.  Was this best for him?  If she was hurt because she wasn’t as prepared as she thought, it would strain their relationship further.  But if she didn’t force him to see her there beside him, he would never allow it.  He’d be too afraid.  That’s what all this boiled down to, wasn’t it?  Deep down, he was afraid to let someone too close to him even now.  Such a terrible wound received so young and not the Phoenix, his family, or time itself could ever truly heal it.

        “You don’t need me,” she repeated softly without turning.  “I no longer need you either.”  What was she saying?  Where was she going with this?  “But…”  She hesitated, scattered thoughts and fears warring incessantly.  Could she help mend that hurt?  She didn’t need him nearby to be useful or to be wanted or to find her place.  All of that she could do on her own merits.  She dared peak in his general direction over her shoulder without turning around.  She couldn’t quite see him from this angle and that might be for the best.  “What of want?  Could you replace need with want and say that same thing to me?”  The churning emotions flattened to calm as she finally faced him, fingers sliding off the door, realization of what she was really thinking settling in.  “Look me in the eye and tell me you do not want me beside you.  I cannot.”  A step toward him.  A single step.  His wide blue eyes didn’t so much as blink.  “I cannot say that, Joshua.  I may be no Dominant nor anyone important—”

        “Don’t—”  She stopped him easily with a single finger raised. 

        “I am no one important in the grand scheme of things like you.  I am a physicker turned fighter because the Phoenix called to me.  For you.  But do you still, after this long, believe I am here because of duty?  Because I am protecting the Phoenix?  I wish to see you injured as little as you wish to see me injured.” 

        In some strange way, Jote felt like she was only barely in control of her own body in that moment.  Having his eyes bore into her, blind to everything else, was intoxicating.  Powerful.  And she responded to that.  She was a physicker; she routinely held someone’s health, if not life, in her hands.  That was nothing compared to this.  Sure steps carried her up close.  A calm hand reached out to him, up to rest on the warm skin of his cheek.  He sucked in a surprised breath, eyes never leaving hers.  It felt like a dream.  It felt like it wasn’t really her.  Bravery in the face of battle and monsters was easy.  Bravery like this she never imagined she had. 

        “I would erase all our time together in that other world if it meant you could see me as something besides an attendant.  This has never been about that life nor about duty.”  As if she weren’t already brazen enough, she laid a hand over his heart.  Joshua didn’t recoil.  “That wound may never fully close.  You lost too much too young.  You do not push others away as I’ve heard you speak of your brother, but you do not let new people into your heart easily.  You found your way into mine long ago.  And that is why I have trained to fight and continued training as a physicker.  I’m your friend, Joshua.  There is no denying that.  Let me be your partner too.  Let me guard and guide and help you as I know you will for me.”  Joshua swallowed heavily and leaned in a fraction closer.

        “I can’t…,” he whispered.  “I cannot say that either.” 

        A moment passed.  Or an hour did.  Time ceased to have meaning in that space they’d created.  Jote couldn’t tell what was going through his mind.  If the furrow in his brow was any indication, it was complex.  If the trance-like way he kept his eyes on hers was another indication, it was about her.  Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand raised hesitantly to cover hers over his now-pounding heart.  Bare inches separated them at this point.  Was he thinking what she thought he was?  She could easily close that gap, prove her point with her lips.  Did she want that?  No sooner had she thought the question than she absolutely knew she did.  But she held herself back.  It didn’t seem right.  If he did, though…  He leaned forward again hesitantly and for just a moment she thought he might do it.  Then with a gasp he pulled himself away from her entirely.

        “I’m sorry.  That…I…”  He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his face, all the while refusing to look at her.  She could see the red in his cheeks, though, a red she was certain she matched.  Uncertain what to say, she said nothing.  The silence was already uncomfortable and grew unbearable by the time Joshua took long, determined strides toward his bed.  Reaching underneath, he pulled something out that looked like a tangle of leather.  He held it out to her, keeping well away and avoiding her gaze.  “We leave day after tomorrow.  I will see to extra provisions.” 

        Jote took the bundle with wide eyes, reveling in the slight twitch of his finger when she accidentally grazed it.  A travel pack.  His spare.  He couldn’t say that he didn’t want her.  The smile spread almost painfully as the reality settled on her.  This was happening.  She’d done it, whatever it was at this moment.  Overjoyed at the prospect, and perhaps still a bit under the effects of their moment earlier, she laughed, pulled his arm down, and kissed him firmly on the cheek before running out the door.  It didn’t hit her until she was outside what she’d just done.  Did she really just kiss the Phoenix?  She stood there in shock replaying that small kiss, and what she was certain was a near-one earlier, in her mind until she heard footsteps coming around the corner. 

        Benna walked into her sight.  She opened her mouth in what Jote presumed would be a greeting, but then her eyes narrowed.  She looked Jote up and down, then looked at the door.  Something pieced itself together in her mind.  The smile that slowly spread across her lips was absolutely conspiratorial.  With quick footfalls she rushed up to Jote, wound their arms together, and dragged her off for some unknown destination. 

        “I want all the details,” Benna whispered. 

Chapter Text

        Elwin shifted the package in his hands as he walked towards Clive’s room.  They would leave for the northern Blight today.  The first time they’d really left for any considerable amount of time in seven years.  He’d be lying if he denied some anxiety in the prospect.  He’d grown so accustomed to them always being nearby, even if they were out in the surrounding areas.  They’d be gone for weeks in this endeavor.  He wasn’t sure what to do with that.  He had to trust them.  He did.  And he couldn’t allow them to see his hesitation.  Jill felt this was something she needed to do and he would not keep her from it.  In truth, remaining here without them was something Elwin needed to do as well.

        “Clive?” he called with a soft knock.  The unlatched door swung open softly.  His son was going through his pack as well as Jill’s, checking everything already stashed away.  He wasn’t dressed yet and Jill was not here.

        “Father.  We should be prepared soon.  Jill went to fetch some travelling attire she’d commissioned from the seamstresses and I have my armor around here somewhere.”  He turned around in search of it trying to remember where he’d placed something rather important. 

        “I brought something which will help with that.”  Elwin set the package in his arms down on the table.  “It will be strange not seeing the three of you for so long,” he admitted.

        “It will be strange not being here.  Are you certain you will be alright without us?  With all that is happening?”  A smile hid the real answer as he clapped Clive on the shoulder.

        “We will be fine.”  A hesitant look passed his son’s eyes, though.  “Are you certain?”

        “Yes.  Just…nervous.  I suppose I am only now realizing that down in the depths I still worry this will all be gone when I return.”

        “After seven years?”  The corner of Clive’s lips twisted upward.  It didn’t reach his eyes.

        “Foolish, I know.”  Clive sighed and the distant look which often accompanied his darker memories fell upon him.  He pulled away, leaning on the end of his bed and crossed his arms with a frown, studying the floor between them while quite obviously seeing something else.  “I dare not think on it often, but I remember the last time Ultima made a play for my mind.  Every second felt a day and every minute but a second.  All the while using everyone I ever cared for and everyone I ever hated to twist me to his thinking.  For a moment when I woke, I wasn’t sure of anything in my life.  What had been real and what illusion?  Something buried in that memory is terrified that this is a part of that, meant to lure me in with false promises only to rip it all away the moment I stray too far thinking us safe.  It did not really strike me until this morning just how much I truly feared it.”  Elwin leaned on the bed beside him.  His son rarely spoke of these darker memories any longer.  He’d hoped it was a sign of healing.  This was something new that he’d never spoken of.  All he ever said was that Ultima made the attempt.  Finding a way into understanding his eldest’s mind was ever a challenge.  That he should so freely admit this came as a surprise that he wasn’t sure how to approach. 

        “If that is your fear, I think there little I can say to assuage it.  Mayhap it will be good for you to leave for some time to prove to yourself we will remain.  It may prove good for us all.”  Clive tilted his head in silent question.  “In truth, I have relied on you all these last years.  Too much, I think.  Watching your determination, will, and drive to continue on no matter the obstacle in your way.  When I found myself wavering or second-guessing, I found strength in you.  In Joshua.  In Jill.  I think I need to prove to myself I have some of your strength without you as you need to ensure we will be here should you roam.”

        “I never knew you took strength in ours.”  Elwin smiled sadly and wrapped his arm around Clive’s shoulders firmly. 

        “This is my first time rebelling against the world order.  You can hardly fault me for reticence.”  Clive chuckled.  “Come.  I have something for you.”  He pulled Clive over to the package he’d brought with him, watching Clive’s fingers pull the strings open.  One look at the contents and his eyes went wide.

        “But this is…”

        “I felt it appropriate.  Here.  Let me help you.”

        “Got your first assignment, then?”  Wade leaned against the stall door watching Jote prepare her chocobo with a knowing grin.  It was only right to see her off.  She looked up in surprise, smirking nervously before returning her attention to the saddle strap.

        “I think I can hardly call it an assignment when I begged to go.”

        “Your people are alright with this?”  He wouldn’t say Undying in pseudo-public like this.  They valued their secrecy too much. 

        “Overjoyed, actually.  Having one of us nearby puts many minds at ease.  I suspect more than a few are rather jealous, though.”  She grinned at him teasingly over her shoulder.  “Wishing you could go?”

        “Well, I admit I am curious to know what happens, but no.  My place is here as it ever has been.  Especially now with the decree.”

        “I know having you and the others watching over the Duchy sets Joshua’s mind at ease.  Clive and Jill’s as well, I imagine.” 

        They were quiet a long moment.  Chocobos squawked indignantly at being handled, leathers creaked as gear was prepped.  Wade was content to watch in the lull.  He hadn’t come to say anything in particular, after all.  He was just proud of her and wanted to be here for this.  His family certainly did not want for sisters, but he was happy to add one more.  His smallest sister, in age and size, preparing to ride off with the one she’d set her eyes on protecting so many years ago.  And doing it like it was old habit even though he knew she’d never been out of Rosaria.  She had to be at least a little bit nervous at that, and about the Blight, but she didn’t show it at all.  It all slid over her stalwart exterior like a true Shield.

        “I’m proud of you, you know,” he offered quietly enough to keep between them.  Her hands paused on the strap she’d been adjusting.  “I was sure it would take longer than you wanted.  Few take to the sword through sheer determination alone.  Every time I thought you’d had enough, you got right back up.”  She scoffed, thumbing the strap under her fingers.

        “And every time I thought I could go no further, you convinced me I could.”  Her hand fell away and she turned quickly, winding her arms around his middle in a rare show of emotion.  He hugged her back carefully so he didn’t hurt her with his armor.  “Thank you, Wade.  I wouldn’t be here without you.”  He squeezed lightly, ignoring the little tightness in his throat.

        “All I did was show you how to swing a sword.”

        “You took a chance on me.  I will be forever grateful for that.  I’m glad it was you in the infirmary that night.”  He’d trained others over the years.  None compared to this little Undying spark of ferocity.  She was the trainee he would always judge others by.  The one he hated to lose when the time came while also eagerly waiting to see just how far she could go.

        “I am so proud of you,” he repeated, not really knowing what to say.

        “I will live up to your expectations.  I promise.”

        “Worry about your own expectations for yourself.  The rest will sort itself out.  And on that note…”  He pulled away pretending he didn’t see the slight glistening in her eyes and held her at arms length.  “I believe you have somewhere to be, yes?”  She nodded, grabbing the chocobo’s reigns and leading her out of the stall.  At the stable doors she turned back smiling.

        “Tell Sara she better not have her baby until I get back!”

        “I’ll do no such thing!  You know the best way to get my sisters to do something is tell them not to do it!”

        “That is not a trait of only your sisters, you know!”  She laughed and waved goodbye as he spluttered for a retort.

        “Little sister indeed,” he murmured to himself, amused smile still on his lips.  “I know you will do us proud.”

        “Quite the flurry for a mere four people, is it not?” Tyler asked Cid as he settled against a barrel beside the one Cid was leaning on. 

        “Aye, it is that.  Wouldn’t have thought a trip into the Blight would be such an occasion for them.”

        “Perhaps it is not for them after living in it.  Yet the three of them rarely leave together.  When they do, they’ve often snuck out or at the least not made it known and they rarely go too far.  I think it helps to know at least one of them is looking after those at home.”  Cid huffed a small laugh.

        “Wandered the world through and turned into homebodies now?”

        “I expect it would be more accurate to say they’ve an appreciation they could not then.”  Cid seemed a decent enough sort of person, though Tyler had not really spoken to him since they got back to Rosalith.  He found the man intriguing.  How did someone go from being one of the more powerful people in the world to living in a Blighted cave rescuing Bearers?  Tyler knew what Clive had told him, of course, and he’d gathered a few bits here and there.  But it was such a leap that he didn’t think he’d believe it were he not standing next to the man himself. 

        “Makes sense.  They know what’s coming.  We could all do with being more prepared for that.”

        “No amount of Dominants in Valisthea could be enough,” Tyler agreed.

        “Nor people working toward a common goal.  Your Duchy will be the leader, showing them all how it’s done.”  Cid lit a cigar without a crystal, something Tyler supposed he was safe in doing now that the edict had gone into effect.  For that matter, within the Duchy he would be safe in showing his own magic now.  Not that he’d a reason to want that.  It was just something he avoided in his personal life as a precaution.  He didn’t even tell his sister until she found out by accident about eight months after the Blessing ceremony.  She’d been wary of the story, though not outright hostile, forcing Tyler to have Jill vouch for the tale herself just to be safe.  She still had not fully come to terms with it.

        “I was told you intend to help us while they are gone should things go awry with the Bearer situation.”

        “Aye.  Least I could do, really.  Me and Benna both.”

        “Then while I hope we have no reason to, should something happen, I hope we will be able to work together.”  Cid nodded, pulling his gaze away from the servants and squires running through the bailey.

        “Likewise, Tyler.  I still have questions for you and your friend anyway.”  Tyler thought to ask what kind of questions but a small commotion directed their attention toward the stairs.  Both of them fell silent at the sight.

        Tyler had seen the three of them semi-primed many years ago, back when that power also changed their appearance.  Maybe it still did, he didn’t know.  Because of that, though, he recognized more than just the three everyone was staring at.  Clive’s black and red leathers, Jill’s chainmail belt and blue vest, Joshua’s crimson hooded stole and white sash.  Their first official venture out together and they’d each chosen clothing to reflect the people they were, who they never stopped being beneath it all.  Those gathered around the courtyard stared, a calm falling over them all.  None knew why.  Tyler did.  Cid did.  There they were.  The legends of another era.  There was something powerful that effortlessly radiated from the trio.  He’d never been able to put a finger on what, exactly.  Only that it was impossible not to notice when it happened.

        “Now that seems an odd sight here,” Cid muttered beside him.

        “Yet they never notice when all stare at them in a wonder they could scarcely comprehend.”  Tyler barely held back the chuckle he felt.  As if someone had popped a bubble, movement returned and all was normal once again.  One day perhaps those three would realize the effect they could have on people, especially when together.  Clive and Jill spoke to the Lord Commander for a bit while Joshua spoke to Jote.  Having them all gone was going to be new for everyone, he realized.  He almost dreaded to think what the courtyard would feel like when they returned if this is what happens when they leave.  “You once asked us if Clive was always so trusting.”

        “And your confusion told me everything.”

        “It may interest you to know that I do not believe they would be leaving now without you here.  They have worked tirelessly for the Duchy these last years, leaving little time for themselves for anything meaningful.  But they now entrust their home to your protection.  I think it says much.”  Cid hummed at the idea and drew from his cigar.

        “That’s where you’ve got it wrong, Tyler.  They entrusted it to us.  Can’t disappoint, now can we?”

        “Absolutely not.”

        “I thought we might never leave Rosalith,” Jill said as they sat around their campfire that night.  It had proven far too time consuming to leave that morning.  Everyone had something they wanted to say or to give them.  It was sweet, but by that point Jill was just eager to get underway.  They didn’t need such fanfare for a simple trip north.  It bordered on overwhelming for them all.  Jote, having insisted she take the first night’s cooking, handed her a bowl with piping hot stew in it and she held it gratefully, letting the warmth of it ease the ache in her hands of holding the reigns all day.  “I had not thought it such an occasion to see us off.”

        “Nor had I,” Clive agreed, also taking a bowl. 

        “Perhaps we have all become too constant a figure.”  Joshua flicked a carrot out of the ladle in Jote’s hand with his spoon, to which she immediately smacked his hand away.  Jill had to hide her amusement behind her bowl.  The scowl upon his face was more appropriate on a child than the heir to a throne.  And yet she’d seen him do the same thing a hundred times. 

        “Father did mention something to me about feeling the need to test his mettle without us to rely on.”

        “Father relies on us?” Jill asked, a bit surprised by the revelation.  It never seemed like he’d needed to.  Clive shrugged.

        “So it would seem.”   

        “Hm.”  Joshua blew on the potato on his spoon while mulling it over.  “I’d not thought we took on so many additional tasks that our absence would cause question.  Mayhap we should have delegated our roles more thoroughly before we left to ease that burden.”  Instead of an answer, they were greeted by Jote’s quiet laughter being stifled by her own shoulder.  “Have I said something terribly amusing?”

        “Yes, though you would never notice.”  She looked around at each of them slowly.  “You truly have no idea what you mean to those around you, do you?  The effect you can have?”

        “I am afraid I do not follow,” Joshua frowned.  Jill agreed.  What was that supposed to mean?  Jote settled on the ground, cradling her own bowl as it cooled.

        “You are legends.  Those of us in your inner circle all take our strength from your strength.  You make us all want to be better, to fight harder, to reach further.  It is lost on none of us that you saved us all.  I know that when I falter, I…”  She glanced briefly at Joshua with a soft look Jill recognized only to quickly look away to avoid his attention.  “I look to you.  All of you.  I think of the future we were meant to have.  Suddenly nothing seems impossible to me.  I feel as if I could control the very skies if that was what I wished.  And…and to be here alongside you is…”  She huffed a small laugh in search of a word that eluded her entirely.  The smile and flick of a tear from the corner of her eye was the best she could do. 

        Just that small thing left Jill confused.  It was all strange to consider.  Jill was Jill.  That was all.  The Archduke was someone they all looked up to.  Why would he rely on them so?  Why would Jote find strength in theirs?  They were here, yes, but that was the Phoenix’s doing.  They’d orchestrated none of this.  At best all they had done was continue their long fight in a different way.  She looked over at Clive, finding his brow furrowed in thought.  He was just as confused by it as she.  To say that of Clive was, to her, an obvious thing.  She’d told him much the same several times long ago.  The sentiment, at the least, was not wholly foreign.  She just wasn’t used to being the object to draw from.  She wasn’t sure what there was to draw from.

        “There is little special of us, Jote,” Joshua finally murmured into the quiet.  He poked at his stew thoughtfully.  “If there is aught that is, it is only that we refused to lie upon the ground for fate to trample upon.  Any could do that.”

        “It is more difficult than that for most,” she countered, but Joshua shook his head and looked up at her. 

        “You did the same, you know.”  The softness in his voice even made Jill’s breath catch and he was not speaking to her.  In fact, for a moment she was fairly certain they both forgot they were not alone.  Clive carefully nudged her leg to catch her attention with a lopsided smirk and a nod at the pair.  He’d caught it too.  Jill held a finger to her lips, not wanting to be the reason this moment ended between them.  Of all the things to break their attention on one another, however, it was Torgal sneezing into the dirt causing both of them to jump. 

        “I only followed my curiosities,” Jote answered in a rush, trying to mask her embarrassment.  Joshua, equally eager to mask his own, put the first bite of his stew he could nab into his mouth.  Then twisted his face in disgust when it turned out to be a carrot he’d missed.  This time neither Jill nor Clive could hold back their laughter.

        “I think you give us too much credit, Jote,” Jill said as the laughter died down and Joshua had finally managed to swallow the vegetable.  “But I am glad you came with us.  I’m glad all of you came with me for this.  I would not like to go alone to such a place.”

        “You need not thank me, my love.”  Clive nudged her again, more openly this time.  “I knew we were going before you did, remember?”

        “And I missed far too much of your lives to potentially miss another milestone, should this become one.”  Joshua smiled warmly, though a small flit of hurt crossed his clear blue eyes.

        “What do you think might await you there?” Jote asked.

        “I’ve little idea.  It could be anything.  Or nothing.”  The idea that this could all be a pointless chase and that there would be nothing to find proved a guilty thorn in the back of her mind.  At the same time, the idea that it could be something incredible flitted around that thorn brazenly.  She did her best to ignore them both.  All she knew was this was something she had to do.  The singular act she’d ever undertaken as the Dominant of the Northern Territories.  That was more important than anything she might find in the depths of Shiva’s Call, at least for now. 

        “I still pray that it, whatever it is, will prove more gentle than the Apodytery was for me.”  Clive suppressed a small shiver at the thought.  It had been years before he felt able to speak of that to her and what exactly had happened to him at the end of that road.  She remembered being stunned by the revelations she’d known nothing about at the time.  Typical, it seemed now, for Clive to have such a volatile collision with even his own memory.

        “May I ask what you mean by that?” Jote asked hesitantly.  Jill looked at Clive and he in turned looked Joshua.  “It could prove good to know given where we are bound.” 

        “I…”  Clive sighed, choosing to relent.  “After the Night of Flames, I had repressed the reality of what happened.  I remembered it in vivid detail there.”

        “I see.  I apologize for blundering my way into a sensitive subject.”

        “It’s alright, Jote,” Clive insisted, though his eyes said anything but that.

        “I should mention that I was with him,” Jill inserted.  “All that happened was within his own mind.  I had no idea anything was happening at all.  If something similar were to occur, it would most like be unknown to any nearby.”  Jote nodded in understanding and stood with her empty bowl.

        “I apologize again for that.  If you are finished with your bowls, I will take care of the dishes.”

        “I shall assist you,” Joshua quickly added, standing to take Jill’s bowl.

        “Are you alright?” Jill asked when they were gone.

        “Of course.  Not one of my favorite memories, is all.”

        “I know.  Jote did need to know just in case, though.”  Clive nodded, wrapping his hand in hers.  “Fortunately I do not believe I have any repressed memories.  And if I do, I cannot imagine them being worse than what I already carry.”  She’d meant to help his mood with that, but he slumped against the log behind them. 

        “I wish I could take those memories from you.” 

        “I don’t.  Not any longer.  It makes all the memories I have replaced them with that much sweeter.”  Clive scoffed.

        “Would that I could look at it the same.” 

        “I think you do most of the time.  I think you are merely preoccupied with leaving Rosalith.”

        “I cannot argue with that, I suppose.  I told Father as much this morning.”  Jill picked up the hand she held and kissed his knuckles.  She knew the feeling.  They all had days that they struggled to accept this as reality rather than yet another nightmare waiting to happen.  It was easy to spot the signs of it in one another by now and offer solace where they could.

        “They’ll be fine on their own.  You know that.  Come.  If Joshua and Jote are attending to the dishes, the least we could do is spread out the bedrolls.”

        Three days into their journey, the weather decided to take a turn.  Thus far they’d been sleeping under the stars rather than go to the effort of using the tents they’d brought with them.  The tents would be necessary later when it got colder and when the Blight’s dust surrounded them.  Tonight, however, they were a welcome blessing against the rain.  Except they were all a bit shocked to find that the three tents they’d packed had mysteriously become two.  No one seemed to know what had become of the third tent; it was there the last time each of them had looked.  Jill, not wanting Jote to be uncomfortable, decided that the best thing to do would be to have a girl’s tent and a boy’s tent.  Besides, this might give her the chance to get to know Jote better.  They got along well enough, but Jill always felt like she kept things to herself for some reason.  Maybe they could break through that a bit.

        “I’m sorry to have caused an inconvenience,” Jote said once they were settled.  She sat with her knees pulled up to her chin, studying the ground.  The rain pattered gently on the tent while Jill lit a lantern for them.  Darkness, lantern light, and raindrops on canvas.  It was a good night for secrets.

        “I hardly think this is your fault.  Besides, it is not an inconvenience.  Merely a change of plans.”  Jote frowned for some reason.  “So.  I have a chess set with me for just such occasions if you’d like to play.  Or if you’d like to talk?  It’s just us here.  Girl talk is something we’ve never had the privacy for.”  The other girl chewed on her lip and remained quiet.  There was almost certainly something she wanted to talk about.  And Jill wasn’t so blind not to have a very good idea what.  So she sat very close to her, closing themselves off further from the world so that their secrets might never stray to the walls of the tent let alone beyond them, and pulled her knees up like Jote’s.  “You know you can talk to me about him if you’d like.  He may be my brother in every way that matters, but I would never say a word to him.  Our confidence would be kept securely.  I swear it.”

        “It is not that.  I know you would say nothing, Jill.  I just…  I did not wish to put you in an awkward position.”  Jill smiled to herself.  That was something.  She nudged Jote’s shoulder with her own in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

        “You think it awkward to know someone holds my brother’s heart so dear?”  She sucked in a quick breath.  A pause, fingers wringing together nervously.

        “I know what happened to the other tent,” she whispered.  “I fear it is, indirectly, my fault.”  Jote reached beneath a blanket she was sitting on and pulled a piece of paper free.  Jill took it, noting the flowing script on the page.  She read it twice.  Then had to stifle a laugh.

Jote,

            I took the liberty of removing one of the tents from this terribly heavy load.  The chocobos will need their strength for such a long journey.  I have also heard the North is cold and blankets are not always sufficient for the temperatures.  You will need someone something else to keep you warm while you are away.  You will thank me for this one day.

            Benna

        “I think this is not the outcome she had in mind,” Jill giggled.  Jote glanced up out of the corner of her eye.  Finally she couldn’t hold back a small grin and soft chuckle. 

        “No, most assuredly not.”  Now Jill was excited at the prospect of Jote opening up to her.  She quickly moved around to sit in front of her, hands pressed on her knees.

        “Won’t you tell me what is happening?  Why would Benna orchestrate something like this?”  Jote blushed.

        “She and I bonded a bit when she arrived in Rosalith.  In part over the men in our lives.  Then the night I convinced Joshua to allow me to join you, she saw me leave his room and I…I was not exactly in the most rational frame of mind.  He…I think he nearly kissed me that night.”  Jill’s smile only grew.  “And I admit, I was rather overcome by many emotions and I may have actually kissed him on the cheek when I left.  I do not know how she knew so easily yet she did.  She wanted details.  I knew I should have kept quiet but I couldn’t.  The words were all out in the air before I could stop it.”

        “Well, she was an intelligencer in a prior life, and a rather successful one at that from what I am told.”  Jote sighed like that did nothing to help her mood.  So she tried something else.  “Do you care about him?”  The poor girl nearly stopped breathing at the question.  Surely Benedikta had asked her the same.  What did she have to be nervous about now?  Seconds ticked by and Jill thought she might not answer.  But then she slowly nodded.

        “I do, Jill.  I…  He is so warm.  And so incredibly intelligent.  I probably should not but at some point I suppose he just became something more in my world.”

        “Why shouldn’t you care about him?”

        “He’s the Phoenix, heir to a throne, a savior of the world.  I am just an Undying caught up in the middle.”

        “That is a terrible reason to say such a thing,” Jill scolded her.  She knew those insecurities well.  She’d had plenty enough with Clive.  Every once in a while they still popped up and she wondered why he would ever choose her.  “He would never care about someone’s standing.  You know that.”

        “I know.  I do.  I just…  I get so nervous around him sometimes, wondering when he will tire of me constantly hanging onto his shirttail and forcing myself into his life.  He did not want me to come on this trip for fear I might get hurt.  I understand and yet I cannot help but wonder if it is all a ploy because he does not want me near and is too kind to say it outright.  And even as I say that I think that would never be true and yet it will not leave me.”  Jill adjusted her position to sit more comfortably and took Jote’s hands gently.  The fear and confusion in her eyes was palpable.  It tugged on Jill’s heart.  She didn’t know Joshua’s feelings; he would never share such a thing with her.  What she did know is that he would never string anyone along out of kindness.  If she had to guess, Joshua did indeed care about Jote a great deal.  In the ways only a Rosfield would show.  If she had to venture a further guess, he may well not even realize his own feelings.

        “The first thing you need to understand about Rosfield men is that they are, above all else, protective of those they cherish.  They would rather be flayed alive than see someone they love receive a bruise.  They will take on any burden if it means another does not need to bear it.  Clive is the worst for this, but Joshua is not so different.  If you wish to pursue him, you need to be prepared to stand your ground.  He will let you follow your own path eventually; he will not offer it to you freely, not if it might lead to pain.  He will need to be convinced that this is your path and whatever may happen is your own choice.  They are also completely and hopelessly oblivious while being absolute romantics.  I pray Joshua is better than Clive as he reads people more easily.  Best to assume he is not, however, and prepare yourself to be blunt.”  Jote nodded as if mentally taking notes.

        “Were he and I, you know.  In that other future?”  Wide eyes searched Jill’s, uncertainty filling them as if she wasn’t sure what answer she wanted.

        “Would it matter what the answer was?”  Jote shrugged.

        “I suppose I am searching for a clue that I may have a chance.”

        “What did or did not happen then has no bearing on the present.  I think you do have a chance.  Mayhap even a very good one.  If you want that chance?”  Jote was quiet for a long time. 

        It was so easy for Jill to realize her feelings for Clive.  Her greatest challenge was a belief that she was not good enough, something she knew he also struggled against with her.  She was so grateful he’d returned to her she was too eager to pull him to her only days after their reunion.  She was glad later that nothing had happened.  It would have been shallow and meaningless by comparison.  Their relationship required a long road of overcoming things together even before they were together.  Only before he left for Origin did he finally say the words they’d both been holding back.  And all she could feel was utter terror that she would only ever hear them that one time.  There were no words for the herculean effort it took to force a smile on her face so that the one time he would hear it too would be a happy one.  If Jote and Joshua had feelings for one another, she didn’t want that to happen to them, words of love shared only because there would never be another chance.  It just depended on what Jote wanted right now.  Jill offered her a piece of dried fruit she packed away for just such an occasion and she took it gingerly while she thought it over.

        “I think I want to try, at the least,” Jote whispered, staring at the fruit between her fingers.  Jill’s heart leapt for joy.  “I feel as I have spent much of my life following the strings of fate to be precisely where I need to be.  I do not regret following a single one of them for it has placed me where I am today.  Now I feel something else pulling me to him.  Every day I can feel it stronger.  I do not know what it is.  It is such an incredible comfort to be near him that I scarcely wish to leave.  And, if nothing else, I want to know what it feels like.” 

        “It?”  The whimsical smile which lit Jote’s face made her seem younger than her years.

        “I want to know what it’s like to hold him.  For him to hold me.  And…I want to know what it feels like for him to look at me the way Clive looks at you.  If we get the chance.  I know so much of that is far on the horizon if it ever happens, yet I wish to know.”  Jill was already imagining that look on her beloved brother’s face, staring at Jote as she walked away.  Or watched her training in the bailey.  She very much wanted that for them both.

        “Then I have an idea, if you’d like some help taking the first step.”

        “I can hear you thinking,” Clive grumbled around the book he was reading.  Joshua laid on his bedroll staring at the top of the tent almost unblinking.  How he made mere thinking so loud sometimes Clive would never understand.

        “My apologies,” he answered without moving a muscle.  “I shall endeavor to think more quietly.”

        “Or you could at least include me in the conversation.”  At that, Joshua glanced at him somewhat annoyed.

        “I believe I am entitled to my own personal ruminations from time to time.”  Clive rolled his eyes, groaning as he put the book in his pack and repositioned himself to lay beside Joshua.

        “And that tells me it is something you should be discussing.  Come.  What is it?” 

        Though the scenery was different, namely the tent above them, this felt familiar.  Something they’d done as children when Joshua had big questions he didn’t want to ask an adult.  Both of them laying in the grass beneath a large peach tree, studying the branches rather than look at each other.  Somehow it always seemed to make it easier to think and thus the conversation itself easier in turn.  Torgal also moved, as if sensing the conversation, to lay between them as best he could.  Did he remember those days so long ago too?  Several minutes passed and Joshua said nothing.  If he remembered those old conversations, and Clive would assume he did, it was a safe bet that he was merely trying to decide what he wanted to say.  He would speak when ready.

        “I nearly kissed her,” Joshua finally murmured.  Clive couldn’t help the grin, glad Joshua couldn’t see it.  He knew his brother unknowingly closed himself off from most, at least in the most meaningful ways.  If he was finally overcoming that, Clive would be overjoyed.  But he didn’t want to seem too aware of the situation he assumed existed.

        “Jote?”  Joshua kicked him.

        “Of course, you dolt.  Who else would I be speaking of?”

        “Simply making sure.  No need for violence,” Clive teased.  “You are permitted your own personal ruminations, after all.”  Joshua made some noise in protest that made Clive tense in preparation for another kick, but none came.  “So what is so confusing it would take all your attention?”  Joshua scoffed.

        “I never thought I would be discussing something like this with you.”

        “Because I am your brother or because I am terrible at reading people?”

        “Both?”  Joshua chuckled at his own joke. 

        “At least I am not the one avoiding what should be a simple question.”

        “I am well aware I am avoiding it, thank you.”  He sighed.  “This never happened before.  All those years we traveled side by side and I never thought of Jote in that way.  I do not understand what has changed.  My best assumption is that it is merely my younger body and relative safety betraying me.”

        “I rather doubt that.”  It took everything he had not to laugh at the idea that Joshua’s feelings were anything short of what they were.  It seemed obvious, even to Clive.  Frankly, it had seemed obvious for quite some time.  Joshua, however, hated having the answer handed to him.  He had to be lead to it.

        “Then what?”

        “It is like as not far more simple than you give it credit.”

        “I truly care about her.”

        “Is that such an outlandish idea?”

        “It has just taken me by surprise, I suppose.”  Clive let his brother think a while longer, not entirely able to put himself in Joshua’s position.  It was strangely easy for him to recognize that he loved Jill.  In some way, he had since they were children.  What stopped him was himself and their situation.  Never his feelings.  They were buried under guilt and nightmares, but they were always there, slowly crawling their way to the surface over the years.  It surprised him that Joshua struggled with the idea of caring for someone so much.  “We are friends,” Joshua mused after a prolonged silence.

        “Hm?”

        “That is what changed.  We are friends first and nothing else second.  The wall I built between us, the wall of Phoenix and attendant, is gone.  It never existed in this realm.  I never had need to recreate it.”

        “And so now you freely see her as she is rather than her title.”

        “Something like that.”

        “Then what do you see now?”

        “Someone who is adaptable and fierce.  Who can keep up with my inane rantings of philosophy and does not shame me for them.  Someone who shares my curiosity.”  Joshua couldn’t hear it, but Clive could.  The fondness in his voice. 

        “So why didn’t you kiss her?”

        “I wanted to.  I could have.  I realized what I was about to do a moment before I did it and it seemed so wrong.  How could I fall for someone without even realizing it was happening?  I couldn’t fall for someone now that I had not then, could I?  I thought I had to be simply caught up in the moment, but I cannot stop thinking about it.  Not after she kissed my cheek in gratitude.  I could swear I still feel her lips there, brief as it was.”  No wonder they had been rather shy around each other during this trip. 

        “Love, or caring for someone if you prefer a lighter phrase, is a strange thing, Brother.  The people involved are only a part of it.  Time and circumstance, those around you, at times the future, they are all pieces of the puzzle.  Perhaps Jote had those things aligned for her then while you did not.  Perhaps now they are aligned for you and not her.  You will not know until you speak of it.  You were not in a place where you readily accepted love from anyone and therefore you did not offer it in return.”

        “That is not true.  You and Jill—”

        “You know I do not speak of familial love, Joshua.  Love is terrifying.  It means handing your heart over to another knowing they could smash it into a million pieces and trusting them never to try.  Were you truly in a place where you could do such a thing then?  Given that you’d already created that wall in your mind between you and your attendant?”  Joshua thought for a while before answering.

        “No.  I could barely keep myself together for you, in truth.  Every night I woke convinced it was all a dream.  Had I tried offering my heart to someone then, even if they had not shattered it, I would have kept a tight hand upon what I offered.  A gift given to someone they could never truly open.”

        “Then you have your answer.  Whether you have feelings for Jote or not is for you to discover.  But do not act upon what was to determine that, not when she is right beside you now.  And a word of advice?  Do not try to keep her from the field or from danger.  That will like as not earn you only stern lectures, withering glances, and an argument you could never hope to win.”

        “You have learned this from experience, I take it?”

        “I learned many things from experience.”    

        The weather proved equally problematic the next night.  Travelling through the day was fine enough.  At least it was dry.  Just as they settled into camp, the drizzling began again.  They quickly put up their tents and did their best to create a hot meal before turning in early just to stay dry.  Joshua wasn’t expecting Jill to change the plan for those tents by saying she and Jote were both cold all night and she thought it better if one of the “sons of flame” stayed with each of them.  It was such a ridiculously transparent excuse.  Either she wanted to be with Clive again (and she was not so selfish as that) or Jote had confided something in her that most likely had something to do with him.  Add to that the fact Jote was steadfastly looking anywhere but his direction and it sealed the assumption.  Jill was concocting a reason for he and Jote to share a tent.  His stomach flipped at the idea.  They’d barely spoken privately since that night.  His thoughts were too jumbled any time they were alone.  Talking to Clive had helped him begin to sort through them, but he felt at a loss when presented with the situation so soon.  At Jill’s suggestion, he looked to Clive for some kind of help, but he was all too eager (with naturally terrible acting) to agree with Jill.  From his look to Joshua, the reason was also transparent.

        Talk to her.

        Knowing he was being a fool for overthinking such a benign necessity, Joshua agreed to share with Jote if she was comfortable with it.  Naturally she was.  She even relaxed a bit upon hearing his answer.  So they crawled into the tent, secured the flaps, and quietly turned their attention to their bedrolls.  This felt so different from the innumerable times he remembered them doing this very thing in the past.  He felt jittery and nervous, like he was intruding.  All because he now knew he’d torn down that self-constructed wall.  Because he’d found feelings he didn’t think himself capable of.  And he had absolutely no idea what to do with any of it.  Neither spoke in the awkward silence for a long time, content to stare at the tent canvas lost in their own thoughts.  They both knew what had happened to create this situation and it would seem she was just as in the dark of what to do next as he was.  It was just far distant thunder and loud thoughts.  They’d been laying there in silence so long Joshua was about to nod off when her voice startled him awake.

        “Why did we travel north?” Jote murmured softly.  In the quiet it felt loud as the thunder.

        “You mean in the past?”

        “Yes.”  Joshua hummed.

        “We went a few times at various points.”  His mouth felt dry trying to speak at all.  Desperately he tried focusing on the familiarity of her presence.  She’d always been a comfort to him.  She would be again if he could but remove himself from his own mind.  “All were for Fallen ruins or traces of a long dead religion in the dim hope of finding a mere scrap of something useful.”

        “Did we ever find anything?”

        “Little of real value in the grand scheme of things.  It was the result of most our journeys, unfortunately.”

        “I wonder if something within Shiva’s Call might have helped.”  Joshua had wondered the same himself a few times since Jill told them of this.  Probably not, in truth. 

        “Past experience would make it unlikely.”  They were dancing around the real subject with talk of the past.  She was trying to get him to speak, he was reasonably sure.  Anything to alleviate the silence.  Joshua steeled himself to end the charade.  One of them had to.  “That was rather transparent of Jill, you know.”

        “I know.  I am terribly sorry for this.”

        “You need not be.  I do not mind sharing a tent with you.”  Though he would be very interested to know just what she’d said to his dear sister.

        “Because we used to?  I imagine I would have remained nearby in case something happened.  This must be similar.”

        Talk to her.  Clive hadn’t actually said it aloud yet he could hear his brother’s voice chiding him.  He was right.  Of course he was right.  Very little scared Joshua anymore.  A girl he cared about should not hold so much over him yet his heart was pounding even while he opened his mouth to admit the most terrifying truths he’d ever uttered.  Because what he was beginning to realize was that this was real.  He did care about her.  Everything he’d pinned it on, especially in recent months, had been excuses only.

        “No, actually.  It feels rather different.  Extremely different, in truth.”  Gathering his courage like he gathered aether, he rolled onto his side to face her, finding her doing the same.  Her large brown eyes were already hanging on him.  “Jote, I…”  He sighed, then swallowed trying to keep his throat from cracking with nerves.  “I created a barrier between us then, one I never crossed.  You were my best friend.  We shared everything, be it food or fears.  We even shared a bed with a need and thought little of it.  But it was never more.  I couldn’t allow it to be more.  I cannot speak to your feelings on the matter as you never shared them with me.  It was simply one more line I could not cross.”  She tried so hard not to let him see her crestfallen eyes.  Her sadness made him uncomfortable.  He didn’t want her to be sad.  Extending a tentative hand, trembling just a bit, he laid it on the ground halfway between them.  “But I’ve recently found that wall is gone.  I believe it has been for some time and I never noticed.  That makes everything different.  We are not on some world-altering quest as the Phoenix and his attendant.  We are here because we want to be.  You are with me because you wish it and I am so sorry I could not see it before you forced me to.  I protested from a place of fear and…and that fear masked caring.”  Founder, this was harder than facing Bahamut alone.  Jote smiled softly, extending her own hand to overlap their fingers.

        “You need not apologize.”

        “I hurt you that night with words I did not think through.”

        “You made up for it.”  Their fingers tangled and parted, sliding lazily across each other.  Everywhere she touched his skin tingled.  Now that he was beginning to see his own feelings, he loved this.  Her touch was bordering on distracting in a way he’d never known.

        “Might I beg your patience?  Much of his has taken me quite by surprise and I must sort out my true feelings lest I blunder something badly.”

        “I know.  I must do the same.”

        “I rather like this, however,” he commented, slipping his fingers fully through hers.

        “Well, I am not prodding you, so I think it safe.”  Her smile was beautiful.  He’d never realized just how beautiful.  He’d never noticed how well it suited her before either.  Or, he’d never allowed himself to notice.  Now that he dared peak at the reality in his own mind, he found many things he’d never noticed.  Like the fact her slender fingers, hiding their true strength, fit perfectly into his.  Or the way her joy lit up her entire face.  Or the faint hint of oil she put on her hair that he loved the smell of even from this distance.  “Tell me a story of the hideaway.”

        “What would you like to hear?”

        “Anything.”

        “Anything?  Have I ever told you of the cook with an unhealthy desire to recreate long-forgotten recipes?”

        They talked for hours, neither daring to move, until they both fell asleep.  Between them their hands remained clasped.  When Joshua woke in the morning, Jote was lying closer.  At some point she must have wriggled her position in her sleep.  But their fingers were still laced together.  Given the awkward position, he was surprised he slept so well.  There was still a great deal to figure out, or so he thought.  He needed to analyze what this was, try to figure out its source, understand what this foreign concept meant to him.  When he realized a part of him wanted to gather the rest of her to him, though, he thought perhaps there was less to figure out than he originally believed.  Time and circumstance.  Could he maybe find some of the happiness he’d never found?  Never looked for?  Could she help mend that wound he never wanted to admit still haunted him?  Jote sighed in her sleep and rolled over onto her back, pulling his arm with her to rest on her stomach as if she knew his thoughts and would begin healing him immediately.  He could have untangled their hands and pulled away.  He probably should have.  He just…didn’t.  It wasn’t a decision; merely a lack of action.  Instead he smiled, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

Chapter Text

        Clive, Jill, and Joshua shivered in unison the moment they crossed the threshold of the Blight.  Clive easily adapted to the feeling of Ifrit being beyond reach inside the Blight after so many years living there.  The jarring feeling of a door slamming closed between one step and the next, however, never faded.  The reverse proved equally jarring.  Instead of a sense of relief, it always felt like Ifrit slamming him into the ground like a large hound that still thought himself a pup.  For the first time in a long time the emptiness around them pressed uncomfortably.  He’d become too accustomed to Rosalith.  Now that he thought about it, this was the first time in the last seven years he’d had reason to enter the Blight.  The chocobos fared little better.  They all turned skittish, tugging on their reigns trying to return to where they should be rather than this desolate wasteland.  Except Ambrosia, of course.  She didn’t like it, huffing and stomping through her steps, but she was far too well trained to try fleeing.

        Travel was slow, as was common here.  Few places that could be mistaken for a road still worked well as such forcing them to find their own paths.  At least it was safe enough.  Not many people nor beasts would willingly travel this far into such a place.  One thing Clive definitely did not miss about the Blight was the dust.  One of the perks of living in the Bennumere was that the dust was relatively minimal, unlike Cid’s hideaway.  The cave did the job, but only to a point.

        “Doing alright back there, Jote?” Clive called over his shoulder, swatting at an annoying patch of the dust clinging to his arm.  “You’ve never seen the Blight before, have you?”

        “I have not.  I knew what I’d been told of it, but this…  It leaves an impression.”

        “It is not a sight easily forgotten, no.”

        “Somehow I think it worse having been here before,” Joshua commented somewhat bitterly.  “Our last venture here should have been years from now when it was at its worst.  Some part of me must have been hoping for better when I already knew precisely what I would see.”  Jote scoffed at his words, even more bitterly than Joshua.

        “I find it makes me angry the further we go.”  There was such unexpected heat in her voice that Clive pulled Ambrosia to a stop to turn back toward her.  Joshua had done the same and was already reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder.  Whatever had happened between them the night with the tents changed something, something noticeable.  Both smiled and laughed more often, burying themselves in a tale Joshua spun or book Jote brought.  There was something in Joshua’s posture that made Clive think he was just a little more aware of her in subtle ways he never seemed to notice.  No one had commented on it, but it was amusing to watch. 

        “Jote?”  Joshua seemed as surprised by her anger as Clive.  She continued studying their surroundings, chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

        “To know from whence it came, to know why we have all been subjected to this.  It fuels an anger I’ve never known.  Perhaps the Blight would have begun on its own and we would have been forced to this by fate.  But to this extent was not our doing.  The north fell because of the Mothercrystal and that is unforgiveable.”

        “Careful, Jote,” Jill said with a teasing lilt in her voice.  “Impassioned speeches like that might make one think Joshua is rubbing off on you.”  Clive expected a quip or maybe a denial and a blush.  He didn’t expect the girl to smile and look up at his brother fondly.

        “Mayhap he is.”  Joshua’s blush, however, was red as the clothing he wore and he turned away to cough nervously.

        “Whatever the source,” Clive said to take pity on him, “you sound like an outlaw now.”

        “I believe I shall take that as a compliment, Clive.”  He offered a small laugh and pressed Ambrosia forward once more, a little pleased she’d finally decided to drop the formalities.

        “How much further do you think it is?” Jill asked.  He was beginning to hear traces of a telltale nervous quiver in her voice the closer they got to their destination.  He’d have to ask her about it when he had a chance.

        “I’d say two days.  Then perhaps one more to actually find it.  Malle’s map couldn’t be too precise.”

        “If it is anything like Phoenix Gate, it should not be difficult,” Joshua assured her, though Jill shook her head, apparently not wanting his comforting words.

        “Only if the building surrounding it still stands.  The stairs to the Apodytery would have been easily reclaimed by nature without the ruins around to mark it and that was only fifteen years.  This is a far older ruin and none knows what state it could be in now.”

        “We will find it, even if I must prime to search from the air.”

        “In the middle of the Blight?” Clive barked.  “Think of doing so and I will knock you senseless.”

        “As will I,” Jote added sternly.

        “Lest it needs said, Jill, the same goes for you.  I’ll not have either of you taking on the curse again for this when we’ve done so well to keep it at bay.”  Clive leveled a look at her.  She shrugged it off noncommittally forcing him to silently vow to keep a close watch on them both.

        “Should I be saying the same to you, Clive?” Jote asked.  He glanced back with a raised eyebrow.  “I feel I’ve a duty as the only non-Dominant here.”  Was she teasing him?  That was new.  He laughed, giving into the teasing.

        “Say it if you wish, but the only help I would be were if we chose to destroy what was left.  Ifrit cannot fly.”

        “Not without my aid,” Joshua added.

        “Do…do you just carry him?”  Jote was such a fixture at this point, Clive had honestly forgotten she’d never seen any of their Eikons.  None of them had seen a need to prime since the Battle for Rosalith.  Clive hadn’t even semi-primed, partly for training and partly for lack of need.  Jill and Joshua occasionally made short bursts of it, but never anything taxing.

        “In my talons, yes, if not aiding directly.  The Phoenix and Ifrit can merge their aether allowing for flight, along with a host of other benefits.”

        “Really?  Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

        “A bit disorienting at first, yes, but…”  More focused on this topic than anything else now, Clive let their discussion fade into the background to instead focus on Jill.

        “You’re nervous.”

        “Was I so obvious?”

        “You’ve spoken little since we entered the Blight and eaten less the closer we get.”  Jill sighed, looking up their path as far as she could see as if she might be able to get a glimpse of her destination.

        “The closer we get, the more I question why I felt the need to do this.  We could be home helping the Duchy take that titanic step we know they have, yet I chose to be here instead.  This is not why we were brought back.”

        “We could be there, true.  Only time will tell if we should have been.”  That trickle of fear poked at his mind and he shoved it far down into the recesses.  They would be fine.  “But I do not believe the Phoenix returned us to be only tools for the Duchy.  It is in our nature, that much is beyond debate as others never tire of telling me.  However I do not think that was what it meant by wanting us to live.  It wanted us to be together and happy as well, remember?”

        “And if what we find does not make me happy?”

        “From past experience I doubt it will.  Were we not together for it?  Is this not a part of living?”  Jill didn’t answer, though he could see her thinking.  “You have never run from any challenge or hardship, my lady.  Why do you hesitate now?”  Joshua and Jote’s quiet conversation, punctuated with occasional laughs, still murmured in the background while she chose her words.

        “Because I am scared,” she finally settled on bluntly.  “I knew well the monster I’d become when I killed Imreann.  His blood was the single thing that could end her life.  I hated myself for being that monster, but at least I knew of it.  What if my experience here is like yours or Joshua’s?  What if there is something I do not know?  What if this only reveals that monster remained or a yet worse one had been there all along?”

        “Jill…”  He wanted to reach out to her, to reassure her, but the chocobos were having none of it.  “I never meant to scare you with my words.  Nothing and no one could ever convince me you are that monster or any other.  And if, by some impossible means, that comes to pass, you will overcome it as you have every other problem to come our way.”  A bit of tension slowly released from her posture.  She took a deep breath, held it a moment, then released it.

        “Together.”

        “Exactly.”

            As it turned out, Clive’s estimation was quite accurate.  They arrived in the rough area on the map just after dusk on the second day and chose to wait for morning’s light to begin the search.  By that point it was obvious that everyone knew Jill was nervous.  They were too talkative, too eager to drag her into conversation, too insistent on her help with the camp.  They were trying to distract her from what lay ahead.  While it annoyed her at first, the love and care they were showering her with buffeted the cold dread in her heart with the warmth she would expect from her family.  In the end she couldn’t complain that Clive held her a little tighter that night or that Joshua, for once, rose early enough to fix their breakfast for her or that Jote insisted on helping with her hair.  It was smothering in the best way possible.

        What Clive had completely missed the mark on, however, was how long it would take to find their target.  On the other side of the ridge they’d camped near was green, unblighted land.  They’d stopped in the dark just a hill too soon.  A few miles into those verdant lands, visible from the top of the ridge, was a large stone complex with blue glass features glittering in the blocks.  A massive, solitary temple forgotten by all but the trees surrounding it.

        “I’d expected something similar to Phoenix Gate,” Clive marveled.

        “It certainly looks like a place the clans could gather,” Jill murmured, staring a bit in shock as they all were at the enormity of the complex.

        “How are we meant to find anything in that?” Jote breathed.  “It is massive.”

        “I expect something will guide us once inside since the complex itself remains intact,” Joshua answered.  He would know better than they.  He would know better even than Jill.  “We certainly never stumbled across this in our journeys.”

        “Mayhap it was gone by then,” Jote suggested.  “It looks as though the Blight could claim it within months.  Could one even enter a ruin locked to all but a single Dominant if there were no aether?”

        “In theory, yes.  These types of ruins have a tremendous amount of ambient aether within.  When attuned properly to the Dominant nearby, it should still permit passage.  Although that does assume the technology of the Fallen might have been capable of sensing aether locked away inside the person on the other side of the door.  It is difficult enough to even—”

        “Shall we head down before we need to test the theory?” Clive interrupted.  Jill giggled.  Joshua was getting excited and when excited, he talked.  A lot.  She loved that about her little brother.  Seeing him excitable over something he didn’t know was a treat.  But this was certainly not the first time Clive had a need to prod him into motion in the midst of speculation and it was unlikely to be the last.

        “Of course,” Joshua agreed with an apologetic smile.

        “One question first?” Jote stopped them.  “You said there was a great deal of aether.  Should I be worried?”  Oh, right.  Jill had rather forgotten about that.

        “Founder!  I never thought…” Joshua exclaimed.  “No, of course not.  I should have said something earlier.  There is a great deal, but not so much to affect living creatures in such a fashion.  You will be perfectly safe, I promise.”  Jote breathed a sigh of relief and, with a ready nod from her, they continued on their way.

        The trees hid their target almost immediately upon their descent.  It would be easy to get lost even with their view from above guiding them.  Luckily the remnants of a paved road dotted with stone cairns led straight towards the temple in broken patches.  They had to lead the chocobos through much of it instead of riding to ensure they didn’t hurt themselves on the rocks.  It was so strange walking through a dense woods, birds chirping and frogs croaking, but look far enough to the side and the Blight loomed in all its threatening, dusty glory.  Jote was right.  This place had months left.  How far ahead did this green last?  Could there still be people in this last bastion in the midst of gloom?  Hopefully none nearby.  From the road they traveled, it didn’t look like others had stepped foot in the area for years.  Perhaps even since Drake’s Eye fell.

        The complex was even larger in person.  The doors were large enough Shiva herself could easily fit through.  As large and decrepit as they were, they were easy enough to move on the hinges.  The greater resistance came from some tree roots Clive had to cut through.  The stonework and architecture of this place was familiar to Jill.  She’d never been here, of that she was certain.  The style, though, prodded at a long buried memory she couldn’t quite dig out.  The familiarity grew in the main hall.  Every part of the walls had some kind of relief carved into it.  There were a few bits she recognized from stories, but mostly this was a much older history she wasn’t old enough to learn by the time she left. 

        The hall, like the complex itself, was massive in its own right.  Surely representatives and guests from every clan could fit here with room to spare.  And they might just have rooms waiting when they did arrive.  Hallways zigzagged every direction off of the room in a confusing and haphazard show.  There had to have been some significance or sense to it at the time, but Jill had no idea what it could have been.  More than any of that, though, her eyes were drawn to the far side of the room where a small dais and something like a lectern stood.  She could feel Clive’s eyes on her as she walked up to it.  Always so worried.  But then, she’d done exactly the same at Phoenix Gate, never taking her eyes off of him for fear he might succumb to the trauma of that place.

        Jill had never been to this temple before.  Of that she was certain.  She had been to a place similar to this, however.  As she cautiously stepped up to the lectern, that memory came into focus.  The room had been smaller and the carvings probably different.  The general shape had been fairly similar.  Looking out at the room from here, she could understand how clan leaders would feel powerful in this spot, multiple clans spread out in front of them with their attention on a single person.  All she felt was fear.  Brushing her hand over the lectern before her brought that memory into focus.  She knew exactly when she’d seen this sight before.

        She was six years old when her father took her hand and led her out of their home with promises she didn’t understand.  He put her in front of him on his chocobo and rode far away from the only home she knew.  Everyone had always said she was never to go so far from home and she was confused when her father just kept going and going.  The confusion grew to be replaced by delight when they never turned around.  She spent her first night in a tent with her father telling her stories and making dinner over an open fire she was much too fascinated with.  Then in the morning they kept going until she saw a building she’d never seen before.  It was big and imposing and frightening.  Jill didn’t want to go inside, but her father said it would be alright so she trusted him. 

        Inside were a lot of people.  Most she’d never seen before.  There were two or three she knew were friends of her father’s.  They stood in front of others like they were guards.  On the other side of the room were people she’d never seen the like of.  A lot of them wore red.  Her father kept a firm hand on hers as he led her up to the dais.  It felt like everyone was looking at her.  She didn’t like the attention.  The already quiet room hushed further when he spoke.

        “I would like to thank the Archduke of Rosaria for allowing me a night with my daughter.  It was with a great deal of thought that I began this suit for peace between the clans and the duchy.  Our fathers and grandfathers began this conflict when the north lost its Mothercrystal.  I have come to see how little this war has gained us in the end.  We all have lost people and it is with a heavy heart that I bid them all farewell in an attempt to create a more stable future.  For that, I am thankful that the Archduke was kind enough to hear my words.

        “It is because I desire to maintain this peace between us that I have agreed to a show of faith in the duchy.  The clans have often traded members as part of peace agreements and I honor that tradition now.  As the de facto head of the Northern clans, I will be sending my own daughter, Jill, to live with the Rosarians, ensuring a bond of trust and faith between us that I pray Metia will bless.”

        Jill remembered being confused.  Voices from the Northerners gathered shouted protests before her father’s friends could calm them.  The Rosarians were quiet, one and all.  She remembered the Archduke standing in front of them waiting for her father to finish the announcement.  He never once seemed to be in a rush or eager to be finished with this.  She hadn’t understood completely.  Not yet.  Or maybe she’d just been in denial.  Her father used the outburst from the others as a cover to kneel down before her.

        “You are going to go live with a friend of mine, snowflake.  I need you to be brave for me.  It will be difficult, but I know you are up to it.  You are a Northerner.  And what do Northerners do best?”

        “We survive, Papa.” 

        At six years old, she didn’t fully comprehend what that meant at the time.  It was something everyone always said.  She’d understand one day, they would say when she asked.  Her father led her away from the dais then to introduce her to the Archduke.  She did her best to curtsy as she’d been taught.  Even though she stumbled a bit, the Archduke warmly bowed his head in response.  If she wasn’t so scared, she’d have giggled.

        “I swear by the Phoenix’s flames,” he said to her father, “she will be welcomed into my family.  I swear she will never be a prisoner in my home nor a pawn for my lands.”

        “That is a great comfort to me,” her father answered.  “Please give her a life.”  The Archduke smiled sadly and knelt to her level.

        “I have two boys near your age that I am certain you will come to love.  Should you wish to write your papa, I will do my utmost to make sure he gets your letters.”

        “Your Grace, you would…”  Her father’s hand on hers squeezed just a moment in surprise at those words and the Archduke stood.

        “I am also a father.  I know.”

        After that she’d hugged her father for the last time and was led out by the Archduke, a few from the clans still protesting even as they left.  The Archduke was kind.  His only comments on her tears were to offer handkerchiefs and ask if she needed anything.  She’d ridden to that mystery building she never knew the location of happily with her father.  She’d ridden out in the same position as she’d arrived in fear of the unknown.

        And now she stood in such a similar place, the only true difference being the size.  That long forgotten memory was an unwelcome feeling.  Clive was still watching her but he had no way of knowing it only made it worse.  He stood in exactly the place the Archduke did in her memory.  He looked so much like him, too.  The moment she felt the hot tears on her cheeks she saw Clive leaping toward the dais.  She knew who it was reaching for her but some part of her was still trapped in that little girl’s memory and she backed away before he got close.

        “Don’t.  Please just don’t.”  He didn’t.  It hurt worse.

        She sniffled and tried in vain to stop the tears.  Why did she have to remember that?  Why did she have to remember the Archduke giving her paper and quill to tell her father everything she saw on their journey?  Why did she have to remember the forlorn, broken look the last time she saw him?  She could barely remember what he looked like.  She could barely remember the north.  Why had she decided to even come here?  Slowly the tears subsided and the scared little girl went back to where she was meant to stay.  When she did, Jill only wanted one thing in the entire world. 

        Clive had not moved a muscle.  She already felt guilty for shying away from him.  More so for now scuffling back to lean her head against his chest.  He still didn’t move.  Of course he didn’t.  She’d said no and that would be the way it stayed until she said otherwise.  He was warm, he always was.  Founder, she needed that right now.  She needed that love he always radiated for her to fill that void she’d created.  Slowly so as not to alarm him she wound her arms around his waist and pulled herself close.  He strained not to move.  Every muscle she could feel was taut with tension.

        “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  Taking that as permission, which it absolutely was, his nervous breath left in a rush and his arms crushed her against him.  It hurt and she didn’t care.  “I’m sorry,” she said again just to be sure he understood.  He didn’t say anything and she didn’t need him to.  Torgal nudged the back of her knee and sat down beside her trying to nuzzle into the embrace too.  “I’m better now, Torgal.” 

        “Why don’t you sit for a moment,” Clive murmured against the top of her head.  She didn’t want to let him go, but she let him guide her to sit on the edge of the dais anyway.  Clive stayed close enough to keep her safe against him and Torgal laid down on her other side.  Cautious footsteps approached from just behind them.  When she didn’t say anything, Jote knelt down in front of her with a waterskin and a handkerchief that was probably really a bandage.

        “Thank you,” she said softly, taking both.  “I’m sorry.  I hadn’t thought of that in a very long time.”

        “You need not speak of it, Sister,” Joshua insisted from nearby.  They wouldn’t ask, she knew, but part of her wanted them to know.  They were her family.

        “I was given to Rosaria in a hall that looked much like this,” she whispered.  “It was the last time I saw my father.  I can barely even recall his face now.  Only silver hair the color of my own and a long beard he kept in a braid.”  It was such a little thing to hold onto, but it was the sole reason for the singular braid she always kept in her hair.  A tiny reminder of where she came from.  “Do you know the first thing your father ever said to me?”  Jill was certain they didn’t.  She’d never spoken of that day to them.  “I have two boys near your age that I am certain you will come to love.”  Dear Metia, she had.  That sparked her tears anew and she reached out for Joshua to pull him closer as Clive held her.  Her tug on his hand pulled him a little further than expected and he tripped on the stairs, causing them all to laugh.  Clive with his arm around her, Joshua holding tightly to one hand, Torgal nudging under her arm.  Just one thing missing.  Jill reached out with her free hand to pull Jote closer into the pile too.  The girl gave a startled yelp but didn’t protest.  There.  Her own family.  Her own clan.

        “Do you want to keep going?” Clive asked after Jote and Joshua both disentangled themselves for want of feeling in their extremities.

        “Yes.  I still want to know what was left here.” 

        “Alright, then.”  He stood and helped her to her feet.  “Joshua?  You would be the expert here.  Can you read this massive building?”

        “I believe so, yes.  This way.” 

        He led the way through dim stone corridors with a sure step that would suggest he had been here before.  He and Clive both lit the way with their own little orbs of flame.  Every once in a while they would stop for Joshua to look around.  Jill was never sure if he was really getting his bearings or looking for the sake of looking.  If this went well, maybe they could stay through the next day as well.  It would give him time to look around more.  Jill was still trying to decide if that was something she wanted.  One step at a time.  She would see how she felt about it after this.

        Along the way they found an opulent room that could only have been meant for Shiva.  It was a fragment frozen in time, even more than the rest of the complex.  With a fire in the hearth, it would likely be a cozy space.  The blue tapestries and deep wooden carvings gave Jill the strange sense of being outside in the night air.  After that came another series of turns which led to another hall of sorts, far smaller than the one they’d entered through.  Joshua stopped to look at a series of options, closing his eyes for a moment as if remembering something he’d read.  Then he chose a hallway.  This was smaller and a bit cramped compared to the rest of the building.

        “If I am correct, the ceremony hall should be just down these stairs.”

        “This looks more a servant’s passage,” Clive commented.

        “The oldest of ruins are often mistaken for such.  I’ve yet find a reason everything seems so small and cramped.  Be careful of the stairs.  They may be steep.”

        Clive went down first in case anything happened.  At the bottom of the stairs was indeed a long hall with thick pillars every few feet.  The door at the end was completely out of place.  Fallen ceramic shaped into the ornate fashion none could truly say was form or function.  The hall looked so much like Phoenix Gate it was startling.  The biggest difference were the murals along the walls.  Jill didn’t remember those.  Joshua smirked with pride when he entered the room just behind her.  Well, Joshua would call it pride.  Clive would probably think smug a more apt description.  Of course Jote would be behind him looking impressed.

        “Here we are at last,” Jill said quietly.  The door loomed ahead of her.  Knots formed in her stomach.  She already felt awful for what she was about to do.  “I’m sorry.  I think I need to do this alone.”

        “Jill, I don’t like you going into that place alone.”  Clive protested as she knew he would.  “Not when we may not be able to follow.  You know what lurks in these places.”  She gave him her best smile to try alleviating his worry.

        “Clive, you opened the Apodytery with a mere Blessing.  You have a part of Shiva.  You could enter with a need.”

        “And how would I know if there was a need?”

        “I’ll be fine.  I promise.  This is, after all, my Apodytery.  Nothing happens when Joshua enters Phoenix Gate.  There should be no difference for Shiva’s Call.”  Clive huffed with annoyance. 

        “No one should rummage through a Fallen ruin alone,” he muttered.

        “You’ve done it well enough.”

        “That was different.  Torgal was with me.”  Jill fought not to laugh at the near pout on his face.  And the fact that one wolf made little difference really.

        “Might I offer a compromise?” Jote interjected before they could debate the point further.  “Jill takes Torgal with her and Clive waits here with us.  If you are gone too long, I will allow Clive to go check on you.  Does that satisfy you both?”  Torgal, clearly assuming all were in agreement, padded over to Jill, tail wagging and tongue lolling.  Ready to do his part.  Jill smiled down at him, scratching behind his ears which set his tail to faster speeds.

        “Agreed,” she said.  Torgal would be fine company.  “If it will put your minds at ease.”

        “I admit it would, yes,” Joshua also agreed.  That just left Clive.  He silently pleaded with her for an extended pause.  She had gone with him to do this very thing.  She’d been with him every step of the way.  Now he wanted to return that favor. 

        “You needed me beside you,” she said, guessing his thoughts.  From the chagrined look, she’d been right.  “I need to see what this means for myself.  I will be the last Dominant of Shiva to enter these halls.  I have never been a Northerner.  Just this once, let me be that.”  He looked away from her plea and then back to her.

        “Alright.  I yield,” he relented.  Reluctantly.  He leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss to her lips.  “Good luck.”  Jill smiled and, with a slight hesitation at what lay ahead, walked up to the door.

        “I will return soon.  Joshua, Jote, look after him, would you?”

        “Of course, Sister.  Be swift.  We will not be able to forestall his concern forever.” 

        “Ready, Torgal?”  He barked an answer and she held out her hand to enter the ruin.

        Her confidence waned the moment the door closed behind her.  Such a hypocritical thing to do, leaving them all behind after coming so far for her.  After comforting her earlier.  Leaving Clive behind knowing how much he wanted to repay her for all the times she was by his side.  It bordered on betrayal and she knew it, though she also knew he would forgive her for it.  Nothing for it now but to press onward.  The similarities between this space and the Apodytery were striking, though Jill thought this might be bigger.  Two enormous circular floors were connected by a walkway.  The second she assumed to be a lift down the to lower regions of the ruin.  Aside from the layout, the biggest difference was the lack of water around the floors.  It was just…empty.  A vast, empty void of nothing.  She didn’t want to think of how far down it went.  So she concentrated on getting to the lift instead. 

        This space was odd.  It felt and smelled exactly like every other Fallen ruin she’d ever been through, but there was something else.  A sense of familiarity, almost.  Like it was calling to her.  It began with the door and only grew as she continued on.  Did it feel familiar because of Shiva?  Only her Dominants could enter, after all.  Maybe that was why she continued walking through doors and corridors all the way down like she knew exactly where she was going.  As much as she would love to claim it was her knowledge of Phoenix Gate, this place was built nothing like that and she didn’t think she remembered the details well enough anyway.  This was something different.

        “I swear, Shiva, if you decide to awaken as well…”  She left the threat unfinished.  How would one threaten an Eikon anyway?

        The silence and Torgal’s questioning whine were welcome answers to the unfinished threat.  Not that she expected Shiva herself to answer.  If she had, Jill probably would have turned around right there, choosing not to know what else might be buried here.  One sentient Eikon was plenty.  There was some deep recess that wondered, though.  The Phoenix had done nothing since the Apodytery all those years ago.  Not so much as a whisper, according to Joshua.  If that were the case, would it be so bad if Shiva did gain awareness?  Jill decided she’d rather not find out.  She’d rather not carry a sentient Eikon if she had the choice.  In fact, it was better to keep the Eikons quiet as they had ever been.  She grimaced at the way the thought formed in her mind.  It sounded like something Ultima would say.

        “Better not to actively encourage it,” she corrected aloud.  Torgal whined again, tilting his head questioningly.  “Nothing, boy.  Just thinking.”  He huffed and plodded forward as if he understood.

        The maze of corridors continued.  At some point her path was blocked by a locked gate that she had to find a mechanism to open.  A couple small guardians quivered like they might activate, but nothing happened.  Just past the gate she thought she heard rumbling, like something large moving around somewhere.  Her mind went to the Iron Giant she remembered from the Apodytery and others they’d fought long afterward.  But like the small guardians she could see, nothing happened.  No massive creatures approached or appeared from the odd shadows of the ruins.  The sound faded so quickly she thought perhaps she’d imagined it.  That was one of many uncomfortable things about these places.  Sounds that should carry through the expanse stopped feet away while the smallest drop of water rippled through the air as if it were water itself.  It all made the sounds terribly disorienting.  Footsteps were even silent here like the reservoir of aether far below soaked them up just to make anyone who enters feel more alone than they already did.  Once again she questioned her decision to do this alone, but pressed forward all the same, stroking Torgal’s ears for comfort.

        It didn’t surprise her to see the mural at the end of her journey.  Unlike the one in the Apodytery, this one was more intact.  She’d heard of the design from Joshua when he returned from Ash, but this was her first time seeing it in a more complete version.  Parts were missing along the left side.  It looked like whoever torched this one either did a poor job or was deliberately avoiding Shiva.  It was an impressive piece of artwork which sent shivers down her spine.  Even without her understanding it was eerie in a way she couldn’t quite explain.  The warning none could understand until it was too late.

        Because she’d been looking for the mural she knew would be there, Jill didn’t immediately notice what was directly in front of her.  Piles of Fallen material had been stacked together in a semblance of an altar overlooking the rest of the sanctum below.  The disparate chunks that should have toppled long ago were being held together by ice.  On top lay a wrapped package and sealed letter.  In a place so untouched by people it was quite out of place.  This had to be what she was meant to find here.  The letter was old, it would have to be, but neither the environment nor the years had touched it sealed away down here.  Quivering with anticipation, excitement, and dread in equal measure, she popped the decades old seal.

        “It has been long enough,” Clive protested.  The waiting was slowly driving him mad.  He could just go through.  Neither Joshua nor Jote could stop him.  They also knew he would never try.  This was Jill’s wish; he couldn’t break her trust.  He’d still pulled Shiva to the forefront as soon as Jill left in hopes she would tell him of trouble.  There’d been nothing yet, but the anxiety was eating at him knowing just how much a fool’s hope it was to begin with.  Realistically he understood that whatever she found was unlikely to end in an explosive fashion like his trip and she could most certainly take care of herself with a need.  It still felt like abandoning her.

        “Not yet,” Jote replied to his protest absently for at least the third time.  It was absolutely frustrating how calm they were.  Joshua had been quick to pull papers from his pack to take notes and sketch what they’d seen thus far, including the murals around the room.  Jote, having never seen anything like this, wandered around looking at details.  A few she pointed out to Joshua either out of potential significance or with a question.  He’d a ready answer for most.  At this point he was one of the foremost scholars on a great many things in his own right.  Harpocrates would be proud.  Several times had he mentioned Joshua’s aptitude for history and research.  All those years scouring Valisthea had made him nothing if not relentless in his pursuit of knowledge.  The more obscure the better.

        More time passed.  Time enough for Jote to be satisfied with her study of the murals.  Now she was watching Joshua take notes, scanning his writing over his shoulder.  Was she even paying attention to how long Jill had been gone?  Clive was about to mention it again when he heard a deep rumbling through the Fallen door.  He looked to the others, but they didn’t seem to hear it.  Straining his hearing he listened for more.  There was nothing.  He’d nearly convinced himself he’d imagined it when it came again, this time vibrating the floor beneath him.  By the time he looked back, Joshua’s notes were already forgotten in his lap, hand on the floor waiting to feel it again.  Beside him Jote rose to her feet, hand on sword and brow furrowed.  The rumbling and tremor happened again, not stopping for almost a full minute.  All eyes were fixated on the door.

        “Fallen ruins are generally quite stable,” Joshua said quietly as if the sound might hear him in return.  He was kneeling now with his fingers still pressed to the ground.  “Very little can shake them.”  Jote and Clive both knelt to feel out the tremors like he did.  Clive had felt little before Joshua sucked in a sharp breath.  “Now, Jote,” he commanded.

        “Now?”

        “Now!”  Clive was halfway to the door before they were on their feet.  He held his hand out, praying it would work.  For one terrifying instant he thought it wouldn’t.  Then the ceramic began its bizarre shifting.

        “What is it, Joshua?” he asked as the door glided open.

        “I pray I am wrong, but the tremors were too even.  It felt like—”

        “Firebird’s flames,” Jote swore.  She stopped dead beside them, eyes narrowed at the last thing Clive wanted to see.

        “Footsteps,” Joshua finished in a whisper. 

        The head of an Aurum Giant snapped up to meet them.

            The paper was rough in Jill’s hands.  It audibly crackled as she unfolded it and she wondered if it might have held up to time worse than she’d initially thought.  Inside were lines and lines of tight, neat script.  Her predecessor had called her here for a letter?  Jill wasn’t exactly disappointed, per se.  Confused, certainly.  What could be so important she would write in a letter none may ever see rather than say it directly to a seanchaí?  Still, she’d never had any kind of connection to a predecessor.  Not like Joshua could trace the Phoenix, or even Clive could trace Ifrit by association, though it wasn’t exactly the same.  She’d had no real imaginings of what she might find here.  While odd, this might be better than she’d expected.  Maybe.

            Daughter of mine,

            Forgive me this small endearment connecting me to you, whoever you are.  I have no children and therefore know you will not be my direct descendant.  Yet if you have found your way here, we are both daughters of the ice and Keepers of Shiva.  In this, I feel a kind of bond with you, oh my successor.

            I have secreted away to the depths of Shiva’s Call to write you this missive.  It is calm here.  I can pretend for a moment reality is naught but a cruel dream.  In truth I believe I need to imagine you here to ease my mind.  I could explain this to no other.  I cannot be seen doubting, not now.  You, whoever you are, hail from the north.  Did you know that?  I pray you do.  Do you find it strange I would even ask?  It is easier to tell you the truth than my own people, even if you did not know.  I cannot tell them that I fear I know what is going to happen.  The north is going to fall and I do not believe I can stop it.

            Some days ago I and those acolytes residing near Drake’s Eye felt a trembling in the aether around the Mothercrystal.  We thought it imagination at first.  Would that it were so.  The trembling has since grown, both in strength and in size.  Those few nearby who cannot detect aether have begun to notice as well now that the very earth trembles like the ambient aether.  I am certain the crystal itself will soon collapse.  The tremors all radiate from it.  My attendants came to agree as did the thegns when small fissures began to form in the crystal.  A panic will soon begin when this becomes known.  I fear we have only days.  Weeks at most.  The thegns have more optimistic ideas.  They have tasked me with using Shiva to find a way to stop this somehow.  I will do my duty as best I am able.  Never could I tell them it will be futile.

            I believe it is my role as Shiva’s Keeper which has allowed me to sense something else around Drake’s Eye.  This is the real reason I look to you, my daughter.  To speak of, and to warn you of, a sinister current I can scarcely explain woven into the aether.  Others would think me mad.  When I open my mind to it I can feel aether flowing as a river from the Mothercrystal, being guided by something beyond my ken.  It repulses me.  It clings to me as the oils used by hunters to elude their prey.  I hate that something in it reminds me of my beloved Eikon.  I am left with but one conclusion.  The Mothercrystal’s aether is being siphoned to a place I know not.  For that very reason, I think I will not be able to stop it unless I chance upon the means with which it is being siphoned.

            And so I turn to you.  My hope for the future.  Where have the streams of life taken you?  Are you happy?  Have we been remembered well?  What does the world look like without Drake’s Eye?  It has been generations since one fell.  I also would ask if magic still works.  Another strange question, I know.  The more aether stripped of the Eye, however, the weaker the magic around me feels.  It is slight.  None seem to have noticed, thank Metia.  I am certain it is real and not imagining.  It has not affected me and so I again conclude it is my Eikon.  Magic weakening.  Yet another terrifying prospect.

            I will do my duty to the North, to the thegns, and to Shiva, curse be damned.  But while I am able, I look to the future I hope we may have.  I want you to know, in case you do not, in case you have none to guide you, what it means to be Shiva’s Keeper.  The North can be an inhospitable place of harsh winters and threatening wildlife.  It requires a unique kind of strength to endure and its Eikon matches that.  I cannot imagine what your story has been, but I know what you are made of.  You are endurance incarnate.  You will find a way when there is none, even at the cost of yourself.

            Some believe ice a cold, bitter thing easily broken down.  You are not the paltry, thin ice of a barely-winter pond.  You are the ice that pushes against earth that stands in your way to create troughs it will never cover.  You are the ice of the northern-most glaciers that scoffs at fire’s feeble attempts to melt it.  You are the ice which falls from mountains to feed the streams near every farm, the lifeblood of Valisthea.  For that reason I had always thought Shiva and the Phoenix would work wonderfully together, despite what the thegns believe.  This is a match of life, far beyond the borders of nations.

            I know you are all of these things because you are my successor.  Shiva could never find a home in someone not possessing of these qualities.  Are you surprised, I wonder?  Or is this old information?  Would that I could know.  Northerners have ever been survivors.  I must hold faith in that now.  Wherever you’ve found a home, Keeper, whomever you may be, I dare a piece of advice.  When all seems lost, when the pressure is too great, above all remember this: to bend is to survive.  Northerners survive.  And so, Keeper, ever may you bend, never may you break.  I will pray for you.  I will pray for the world I must leave behind.  I do not know what I think you might be able to do for it.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe I am only releasing my own demons before facing my end.  Yet I pray you find something of value in these words.

            Oh, and one last thing.  The package is a gift from your heritage.  These vestments were gifted to me the day I took the active role of Keeper.  Take them.  They are the only connection to your past I can offer and I fear where I am bound, they will mean little.

            Ysay of Clan Warrick

        “Bend?  Break?” Jill scoffed.  The hand holding the letter fell to her side.  This Ysay knew little of either.  “What of shattered?  Ground down to nothing?  Barely considered human?”  The nightmares of her time in the Iron Kingdom did not plague her as they once did.  She had left much of that behind her when they’d first taken down Drake’s Breath and Imreann with it.  The rest had fallen dormant in their new lives.  But something about those words here brought it all back.  Even the thought of breaking under that weight vastly underestimated the horrors of Jill’s life.

        “Well, she was right about one thing.”  A figure appeared beside her speaking in a voice too much like her own.  Long hair gathered at the end that nearly glowed white.  Single braid hanging beneath.  Unnatural grey and black clothing identical to what Jill wore.  “You are a survivor.  Always there to see another day.”  The figure turned her blazing yellow eyes on her, piercing into Jill’s soul.  She backed away in fear.  “Always clinging to life when those around you fall.  Strangers always bear your consequences and those closest to you die while you do nothing.”

        “What manner of construct is that?” Jote breathed.  Clive himself was shocked to see it and he’d encountered one before.  Jote was, understandably, dumbfounded by the dull, golden, and frankly terrifying Giant before them.

        “A Giant.  Of a variety I’ve only seen once.”

        “Just where, pray tell, might that have been?” Joshua asked warily.

        “Reverie.”

        “Rev—  You mean Waloed?  Barnabas Tharmr’s personal den of slaughter?  That Reverie?”  Clive didn’t get to answer.  The Giant swung its enormous sword down between them.  Clive dove in once direction while Joshua and Jote dove the other.  Rolling to his feet he immediately sprang in for a counter to the nearest bit of metal he could reach.  Hearing the ping of a hit on the other side, he found Jote had recovered from her shock to do the same.

        “Take care!  These Giants can give as good as they take!”

        “Understood, my lord.”

        Clive scrambled to remember what he could of this type of Giant.  He remembered that aurum plating.  He remembered it was fierce and tough.  He remembered wide-reaching attacks.  Dammit!  He couldn’t remember details!  That ascent was already a blur and too many years had passed now.  No matter.  It would be fine.  Just wear it down as usual.  Will-o’-the-Wykes orbs appeared around him to begin beating the thing into submission.  So long as Clive made himself the biggest threat, Joshua and Jote could continue hitting its weaker spots from the back.

        The Giant took the bait.  It swung its sword in an arc toward Clive, the massive shield it carried not giving an opening.  Meaning Clive would just have to make one.  He spun back out of reach then drew himself back in with Garuda’s talons, pulling himself into the air where he could put those talons to their best use.  A flurry of claws scraped repeatedly against the golden metal.  It didn’t dig in as deeply as he would have liked, but then, that wasn’t the point either.  From this height he could see Joshua swing once, twice, then duck low, spinning around on his knee under Jote’s incoming blow.  By the time she’d given a full swing and a backhand, Joshua had a half dozen orbs of fire surrounding him to unleash at the opening she made for him.  Clive marveled for only a split second how well they worked together.  It was all the time he got before the Giant was swinging his way again.  He was ready for that, though, and twisted cleanly out of the way with several fiery slashes downward.

        That pushed the Giant just slightly off balance and, unfortunately, sending the shield in Jote’s direction.  Joshua grabbed her and Shifted out of the way just as Clive landed in that same spot to block with Titan.  He ground his teeth against the force of the Giant before him.  If he could just get it a little further off balance…  The moment he felt the shield slip he countered with a stone-covered fist.  Three hits in quick succession and he knew it wasn’t quite enough.  What he didn’t plan for was their resident Undying’s tenacity.  Just as he pulled back from the third strike, he saw Jote sink her sword deep into the joint of the Giant’s opposite leg, a bit of Phoenix flames sparking out of the strike where Joshua had given her sword a bit more force.  That did the trick and the Giant toppled over like an expertly felled tree.  Finally Clive had enough breathing room to pull Ifrit’s strength into focus and semi-prime.

        The intensity of the power that flooded through him sent him down to one knee.  Seven years since he last did this.  Surely he hadn’t forgotten the feeling.  Apparently he was very, very wrong.  Aether overflowed from every muscle like a flooded river.  The dim light was suddenly too bright to his sharpened eyes.  And he could feel everything.  The bombardment of information was distracting.  He heard someone shout, he thought it was his name, but he didn’t know who.  It was too loud and too garbled at the same time.  He could feel, almost see the aether around him, both ambient and not.  Jote’s natural aether vibrated with exertion.  Joshua’s aether, a thousand times brighter, radiated as a calm beacon.  Unknown depths beneath him, Jill’s aether flickered.  He didn’t know if it was distance, trouble or something else.  It was all new and too much and he had to release Ifrit just to catch his breath.  He may have been out of practice, but he'd never been able to sense aether like that.  He was sure of it.

        “Clive!” Jote shouted, grabbing his arm.  “Are you alright?”

        “Fine,” he choked out between gulps of air.  He climbed stumbling to his feet.  The Giant was still on the ground.  Whatever happened must have only lasted seconds.  “I’m fine,” he repeated.  Jote didn’t believe him.  He didn’t quite believe himself.  Across from them Joshua stood, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, sword tip resting on the ground from nearly dropping it.  Staring.  In shock.  At Clive.  “Joshua!” he called.  His brother snapped back to reality just as the Giant began to collect itself.  Later.  They would address it later.  “Hit it!”

        Joshua, thankfully, did not hesitate.  He shoved his sword into its sheathe, already pulling aether to semi-prime.  Somewhat hesitantly Clive reached for Bahamut.  Without semi-priming.  Bahamut at least felt normal.  As the massive construct struggled to its feet, a barrage of brilliant flame tore into it from one side at the same time a barrage of light seared into it from the front.  It wouldn’t be enough to kill it, he feared.  Once that thing was back on its feet, its guard would be up and it would be that much harder to take it down once more.

        But the Giant never quite made it fully upright.  Halfway there, just as flame and light both vanished, it stuttered.  Something audibly ground against the metal, a shout of effort accompanying it.  The Giant fell to its knees in front of Clive, then pitched forward.  Jote, hands clinging to two swords, rode the thing down, still twisting the weapons into the juncture between head and body.  When it landed the impact toppled her off the body with a yelp and she rolled, rose, and skipped several feet away.  That’s when Clive realized the shortsword at his hip was missing.  It, along with Jote’s sword, were still jammed in the creature that appeared thoroughly defeated.  When had she even taken that sword?

        Joshua, stunned by the turn of events for only a moment, was already running over to her.  So Clive leapt up onto the Giant’s back to retrieve their swords.  He watched his brother check Jote over worriedly.  They were both smiling with pride.  Clive had always felt a deep respect for Jote, even when first he knew her.  She followed her path as she saw fit and not even Joshua could dissuade her, not that his brother realized it was her path at the time.  But this?  The girl was fearless to use the overwhelming power of two Dominants as a distraction for a precision strike.  She could have been hit by either of their magicks but she did it anyway.  He jumped down and walked over, replacing his own sword as he walked.  Fierce and deadly with a blade indeed.  He held out her sword and, not knowing what to say, simply smiled.

Chapter Text

        “That’s…”  Jill’s voice barely rose above a whisper, those words cutting her worse than any sword.  Hands now shaking uncontrollably, she reached for Torgal.  He wasn’t there.  In fact, now that she looked, nothing was the same.  Instead of the unnatural grey ceramic walls of the Fallen ruin, she saw the stone walls of Mount Drustanus painted with the undulating light of the magma below.  A sight that to this day sometimes haunted her dreams.  The stifling heat was just as oppressive as the real thing.  Founder, Clive had been right to be wary of what she might find here.

        “Do you remember that little rabbit you found in the gardens your first summer in Rosalith?”

        Unbidden the memory rushed into her mind, steadfastly refusing to stop or cease until the entire thing had played out there.  She’d found a small rabbit flailing on the ground in the raspberry bushes.  Its leg had been broken.  When she couldn’t find its home, she brought it inside and bandaged the leg.  It stayed in her room to heal, eventually warming up to her enough to take carrots from her hand while she stroked its ears.  Then Annabella found out.  The quiet lecture the woman had given her hid so much disdain and disgust.  For Jill.  For the savage.  She had a servant wrap the poor creature in a cloth and tossed it from Jill’s room into the pond herself.  Jill was too afraid to protest or move or even cry.  Would she be the next one thrown into the pond?  Would the Archduke protect her from his own wife?  That was the day she learned of the monster the Duchess truly was.  That was the first time she cursed her father for sending her here.

        “Even that poor little rabbit paid for you because you were a coward.  And it was only the beginning.”  Jill sank to her knees, already knowing what was coming.  And knowing the accusations would be right.

        “What are you?  Why do this?”

        “Why?  I only speak the truth you won’t.  How many tried to protect you the night Rosalith fell all so you could survive?  How many Bearers were sacrificed because you were Lady Warrick and they felt they had to protect you?  That you were their better?  How many were tortured to force you to prime?  Even after you fled, you did naught for those left behind.  Five long years you survived in the world with nary a thought for them.”

        A sea of faceless people she’d never truly known flooded her mind.  Shields cut down in front of her, one of them screaming for her to run even as a sword pierced through his back and threw blood across her face.  A servant trying to hide her in an armoire in the vain hopes someone would survive.  Then even more faceless Bearers in this very stronghold.  A little girl throwing herself in front of Jill because she was a lady.  Another with a sword to her throat that Jill barely even saw anymore.  They all knew she’d fallen too far to feel anything for them now.  It was a lie, a formality, a reminder.  A nail to keep her trapped to the bottom of the empty well her humanity had fled to.  And then screams.  So many screams.  Men on a battlefield she didn’t know, battles she took and took and took from the enemy only to keep herself alive.  And for what?  A breath?  One more heartbeat?  At the end of the torrent was a figure turned blurry from her tears as she cried out for him.  Her father, alongside everyone there the day she was sent away.  They had died too, in the end.  Died for a homeland that rebelled against them while she survived and found friendship far away.  He’d sent her away in the end to keep her from that fate.  Even they had died for her.

        “Stop this!” Jill sobbed, folding in on herself further. 

        “Did you think killing one man would do away with the pain your survival caused all those years?”

        “Clive…” she whimpered.  She couldn’t…  Not alone.  She should never have left him behind.  She saw him looking through her, before she knew it was him, in the dust and grime of the Nysa Defile.  She knew she had the same, dead expression.  The moment she silently begged that man who unquestionably knew her struggle to finally free her from it.

        “Oh now you want your precious Clive?  You were more than willing to let him and Joshua both fly off to their deaths so that you could survive the coming storm.  You know Dion had someone waiting for him, too?  But no.  You simply couldn’t muster the courage to go with them, to give them a fighting chance.  They died because of you!  And you dared to think them your family?  Your clan?  They would not even be here!”

        Jill didn’t hear any more.  She couldn’t feel anything.  The floodgate was open now and she couldn’t close it.  How many?  How many girls had their innocence ripped from them by the Ironblood because Jill did nothing?  How many sacrifices on the altar because she feared retribution on others?  How many lives had she taken in exchange for her own?  Too many.  Far, far too many.  She slew the unfeeling monster she’d been but all this time another lurked beneath the surface that she was so hopelessly unprepared to face.  A survivor.

        “Are you sure you are alright, Jote?” Joshua asked.  Clive tried not to chuckle at the exasperated look she gave him.  It was not the first time he’d asked. 

        “I believe it may be wise to trust her judgement, Brother.  Lest she find reason to prove her might against the Phoenix next.”  Joshua narrowed his eyes at him, not nearly as amused by the quip as Jote was. 

        “Very well, then,” he grumbled.  “Allow me to refocus my concern.  What the hell happened to you, Clive?  Why would you not tell me?”  The small smirk on Clive’s face vanished, rapidly replaced by confusion.  It had been a very, very long time since Joshua was that upset with him.

        “Tell you what?”  Joshua’s eyes somehow narrowed further, burrowing into him.  Seeking out some kind of truth Clive didn’t know how to give him.

        “Play the fool as you like but now I know and I am rather cross with you.”

        “Joshua, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

        “When you semi-primed, then.  Might that jog your memory?”  Well, it did, Clive supposed, but it didn’t exactly answer anything.

        “I’ve no idea what happened,” he admitted.  Remembering the rush of aether and information alike actually made him a little nauseous.  “That has never happened before.  Everything was too much.  The strength I felt from Ifrit I could have adapted to with a moment, but the rest…  I could feel the aether in the air.  I could almost see yours and Jote’s.  Jill’s too, as far away as she is.”  His gaze fell on the lift at that, wondering what was happening.  Unfortunately it had taken him little time to realize that the lift was not up here and he didn’t see a way to call it.  Whatever was happening down below, he was just as trapped here as he was on the other side of the door.  “It was all just too much information,” he finished flatly.

        “I see how it would be,” Jote murmured.  Joshua, however, groaned, running a hand through his hair.

        “Clive, you can sometimes be the greatest idiot I have ever known.”  Clive started at the unexpected insult. 

        “That’s rather rude.”

        “Agreed,” Jote said, looking up at Joshua questioningly when he stood and began pacing.

        “It isn’t.  Jote, would you please tell Clive what you saw when he semi-primed?”

        “Why?”  Joshua just gave her a look Clive couldn’t see.  “Very well then.  You had streaks of orange glowing through your hair and across most of your left cheek.  It was quite concentrated there.  And some sort of rocky spikes.”  Clive glanced at Joshua.  So far this was nothing he didn’t already know.  His brother held up a placating hand, urging him to be patient.  “And on your back, a set of streaming feathers flowing behind you.  I call it feathers at a guess.  I’ve little better word for them.”

        “Feathers like, say, the Phoenix?” Joshua asked pointedly, eyes never wavering from Clive’s.

        “I fear I was somewhat distracted when you semi-primed to say for certain, but yes, I believe that a fair comparison.”  Clive honestly struggled to breath as the reality of what they were both saying washed over him.  He felt something in his chest stir.  Or maybe it was his heart stuttering in light of the thought.

        “Ifrit Risen,” he whispered.

        “If I had ever been forced to hazard a guess as to what a semi-prime of that merged Eikon would look like, that is precisely what I’d have said.  So yes, you are an idiot.  How long have you carried the Phoenix?”

        “I-I do not know!  I was certain it was only the Blessing!”  Joshua pinched his chin in thought.

        “As was I.  I had assumed that with sentience, the Phoenix had chosen to remain with only one of us.  How could it split itself like this?  How could you not realize?”

        “Now you believe me,” Clive grumbled.  Joshua scoffed with a dismissive hand wave.

        “Anyone would have believed you had they seen the look upon your face just now.”

        “I can quite honestly say it feels no different from the Blessing,” Clive said, choosing to ignore the comment.  “It never has until that moment.”

        “Hm.  I’ve a curiosity I feel safe testing upon you.  Come here.”

        “Testing?  You sound like Mid.”  Despite the protest, he complied.

        “Now I want you to call Ifrit with half the aether you are accustomed to drawing.”  Steadying himself in case, Clive tried to do just that.  He felt the aether surge through him, but not like it had.  This felt like what he expected and had done too many times to count.  “Interesting.  You seem to be able to call Ifrit alone.”  Clive dropped the semi-prime.  “Try again as you did earlier, with the same amount of aether you thought you’d need.”

        “No.  Joshua, that’s enough.”  Jote marched up beside him.  She locked his bewildered look with a disappointed frown.  “I will look over a single instance but I cannot permit ongoing tests to sate your curiosity.  The risk you would pose to your brother of all people is frankly disappointing.  I had thought you better than that.”  Joshua frowned, equal parts confused and chastened. 

        “It’s alright, Jote,” Clive said to hopefully diffuse the situation.  He wanted, if not needed, to know himself.  “I doubt it will be quite so jarring now that I expect the difference.”

        “Noble but hardly the point,” she replied firmly.  “As you said yourself on the journey here.  I will not allow any under my care to court the curse without great need.  Curiosity in this case is hardly a need at all.”  Clive blinked.

        “Oh.”  Now that he thought about it, he’d never had a reason to mention his…unique constitution to her, had he?  Jote sighed in frustration.

        “You are both every bit as reckless as I feared,” she muttered.  Clive could almost see Tarja standing in her place.

        “Jote, I would never do this with any but Clive.  I may be reckless in my own health—”

        “He finally admits it,” Clive snuck in under his breath.

        “—but not with another.  Clive is immune to the curse.”  Jote’s eyes went wide as she jerked her head back around to Clive.

        “What?”

        “Immune may be strong,” he clarified with a shrug.  “I am extremely resistant at the least.”  She cocked an eyebrow in yet another familiar gesture.

        “How resistant?”  Clive shrugged again.

        “I’m not sure exactly.  Only that it took the collective power of the aether from every Mothercrystal as well as…his essence to harm me at all.”  Something about places like this made him wary of Ultima’s name.  Like he could be watching, just waiting for someone to make a careless mistake and summon him like a demon from a fairy tale.  “I thank you for the concern, Jote.  Truly.  But the curse is not something I fear for myself.”  No, he feared it far, far more for everyone else.  Jote still wasn’t happy about the prospect, but she didn’t stop him this time.

        Clive reached to Ifrit to semi-prime as he’d always done.  The aether and sensory overload slammed into him once more.  He grunted and swayed, but remained on his feet with the help of a firm hand on his shoulder.  He blinked open his eyes, which he didn’t remember closing.  Joshua kept him balanced.  All this was still overwhelming.  He fought through it anyway.  First he focused on Joshua.  His lips were moving seeming without sound.  No, that wasn’t quite right.  Clive could hear the cadence of his voice.  It was the words that bled together and mixed with everything else.  Joshua’s eyes creased with concern and he said something else to his side.  Then Clive felt him tug on the Phoenix.  He slammed his eyes shut at the explosion of aether that small pull created in his mind.

        Clive.  Can you hear me now?  Clive nodded.  This was better.  It was still everything, everywhere, all at once, but this was easier to focus on.

        I always could.  I couldn’t pull the words apart.

        Interesting.  Can you try to look at me?

        It hurts.  But I’ll try.  Clive forced himself to first open his eyes, then try to adjust to the brilliance beside him like it was the first sunny day after a long period of rain.  Dominants, or their Eikons, shone too brightly, he thought.

        Good.  What do you see?  He gaped at the first thing he saw.  Joshua’s lips never moved.  He was used to their silent conversations but he usually had to be looking at his brother.  Then, as the surprise settled, he saw a small thread of aether connecting the mark of the Phoenix Joshua held on the back of his hand to Clive’s chest where he knew the Eikons resided.

        How…  Clive shook his head, remembering the question.  There’s a connection through the aether.  As he “said” that, the thread quivered.  It reminded him of a glass of water shaking from particularly loud thunder.

        Are you alright?

        Yes.  No.  I don’t know.

        You should drop it.  You’ll only tire yourself and we know more than we did.

        In a moment.  Just…give me a moment.

        Clive closed his eyes to let his other senses expand beyond the immediate vicinity.  He found Jote’s aether again, now calm if a bit anxious.  But that wasn’t who he was looking for.  Far, far down beneath them, Jill’s aether still flickered.  Distance or trouble?  He needed to know.  He focused further and brought Shiva forward.  That flicker bothered him.  Neither Joshua nor Jote’s aether was doing that.  Maybe, if he could find the right thread, he could speak to her too.  He didn’t know if it was the right one he chose.  He didn’t really have any concept of what he was doing at all.  But he mentally clung to the thread he found all the same.

        I love you, Jill, he thought, hoping it would carry.  Before he could find out, the semi-prime slipped from his grasp and he was back in the upper levels, Joshua holding one arm and Jote the other as he gasped for breath.

        “That’s enough,” Jote announced, helping Clive sit down.  Joshua handed him a waterskin.

        “Agreed.  I’m sorry, Brother.  I ought not have pushed you.”

        “You didn’t,” Clive replied after a long drink.  “It’s Jill.  Her aether is flickering and I do not know why.  It is worrying me so I was trying to check on her.”  Joshua’s frown deepened. 

        “What did you find?”

        “I don’t know.  I can tell nothing for certain.  I’m not sure what any of this means.”

        “We have no way down anyway,” Jote pointed out.  “We will just have to hope for the best.”  Clive hated everything about that idea, even if she was right.

        Jill wept for the all the faceless people she had outlived.  Wept for those who never got a second chance like she did.  She didn’t deserve to have the life she’d led nor did she deserve to be happy here with everyone she loved.  She’d let them die.  So many dead…  Strength?  Endurance?  What a joke.  When it really mattered, she ran in the name of survival every time.  Even her own Eikon must be disgusted with her and Jill wouldn’t blame her.

            “Your ice is not so easily broken,” said a new voice.  Jill didn’t need to turn to know it was her own from a far more innocent time.  Why she would be saying those words from the letter she didn’t know nor care.

        Good for Shiva, she thought bitterly rather than answer.  It must be nice to simply leap from Dominant to Dominant as she pleases.

        “Not as she pleases.  Shiva is particular.  Remember the stories?  She would rather wait than choose an unworthy Dominant.  Like Ysay said, Shiva could never find a home in someone not possessing of these qualities.”  So Jill was always doomed to be this?  She felt herself slip that much further.  The cold didn’t take over, though.  Warmth did.  That voice got closer and it brought something with it.  Something that encircled her completely, blanketing her in every emotion she couldn’t find.  Love and comfort and joy and peace.  “You survive to continue your fight,” the voice said from just over her shoulder.  “And you fight to do what you can to make things better for those who cannot fight themselves.  Is that so different from him?”  Jill gasped at the mention of Clive.  You fight to survive.  And you survive to protect those you love.  Long ago, she’d said that to him when he was on the verge of losing himself completely.  When she’d entrusted Shiva to him.  The warmth around her clung hard, hugging her close.

        I love you, Jill.  Clive!  That was his voice!  But how?  The little girl she hadn’t dared look at knelt down beside her and took her hand.

        “Are the lives of others more important than your own?”  Jill’s thoughts buzzed like a jolt of electricity at the sound of Clive’s voice in her mind and the warmth she could only imagine was him.  Even as the warmth faded she took strength in it.  There was one flame that could melt the ice of her heart.  Only one she allowed to melt it.  And her most innocent self brought it to her.  “Would your flame think they were more important?”

        “No.”  She remembered now.  The rabbit survived.  Clive saw what happened.  He jumped into the pond to save it.  Joshua had healed it.  It had been their first secret, the three of them.  “They are equally important.”

            Even if she had stood up to anyone on Mount Drustanus, where were the victims supposed to go?  It was an island.  Jill couldn’t wipe out every enemy or keep the innocents safe while they escaped, not even as Shiva.  It was quite literally the most ineffective place for her to be.  Her tears stopped and feeling returned to her numb limbs.  She forced herself to think.  While she would never call her actions in battle a mercy, those soldiers would have died anyway in a normal battle the Ironblood would have waged without her.  Rebelling would have changed little.  It would have saved few.  And she couldn’t have saved anyone in Origin.  Clive and Joshua told her.  She believed them far more than a twisted mirage, didn’t she?  She was a survivor, that was true.  All the times she’d wished death would take her just to end the suffering, she never made a move toward it herself.  Even when she didn’t think she could ever have a future she struggled toward that illusion, never fully abandoning the hope locked so deep within her heart she couldn’t see it, that one day something better would find her.  One day she could escape this fate.  Jill did escape it.  As she begged Clive to kill her that day, she fought on.  Not entirely for those the Ironblood had threatened.  She could recognize that now.  Her actions were monstrous and they were her own, but…  But it was time she forgave herself for it.

        “It’s time to be the Keeper we could never be.  Face your guilt with the strength of a Northerner and with the strength of those you love behind you.”  Jill did.  Still trembling she stood even as the little girl vanished.  The shade before her sneered.  Jill wasn’t asking why it had let her recover.  Maybe she didn’t know.  Maybe she was confident in the outcome.  But that overconfidence would be her weakness, not Jill’s.  Ice grew in the shade’s palms.  It only made Jill angry.  How dare this manifestation of her guilt use her ice against her.  How dare she so brazenly claim Shiva as her own.  Manifestation of her own guilt.  Now she understood.  This all happened so suddenly she didn’t make the connection earlier.  Clive told her of his encounter in the Apodytery.  How he faced down a literal incarnation of everything he most feared in himself.  How he claimed Ifrit from the monster he’d thought he was.  Now it was her turn. 

        “Thank you,” she murmured to the little girl that was no longer there.  From whence she had come, Jill had no idea.  Whether Clive had done something or Jill’s own subconscious had brought her forward, she was thankful.  It was exactly what she needed to push her through this.  Thank you too, Clive.  He wouldn’t hear her.  She inexplicably knew that for fact.  But she would tell him repeatedly later.

        “You have no right to judge me for what I have done,” she snarled at the specter before her.  “Every person does what they can to survive in this world.  It is in our nature.  I will not take this as a sin any longer.  Begone with you, monster of my past.  I will not allow my own guilt to take my form and threaten me with my own magic.  You know nothing of ice.  I am Shiva; not you.  And I choose to leave this guilt behind me.”  The shade’s eyes dulled somewhat.  Her mouth moved as if she might speak but no sound came.  Out of seeming desperation, she threw her ice shards towards Jill.

        Jill Snapped around the attack without thinking.  Shiva felt so close to her.  It was a wonder she couldn’t feel her before.  The ice was right beneath her fingertips.  And for the first time Jill could remember, she felt strength radiating from her Eikon.  Not the strength of body or magic, but of the mind.  She and her Eikon were one and the same.  All Jill had to do was twitch her fingers and ice sprung up precisely where she wanted it.  The specter lunged and Jill Snapped out of reach with newfound speed.  Curious, she waved a hand around her, feeling the aether bend to her rather than be pulled and shaped.  A dozen large shards of ice formed, larger than what she usually called out of habit.  With a mere flick, each one drove into the specter, forcing it onto its back.  The only sound was ice burrowing into stone as the shade vanished from sight.  Then she was looking at the Fallen ruin once more.  Torgal seemed none the wiser that anything had happened and was simply grateful for her, somewhat frantic, hug and scratches.  Jill felt lighter somehow.  That burden she didn’t realize she still carried was gone.  She’d really done it.  She’d truly forgiven herself.  While the sorrow for it all would always be there, the buried guilt was gone. 

        “Your ice is not so easily broken,” she murmured, forming an ice shard in her hand.  It was hard as steel.  She knew that without testing it.  A realization washed over her, settling into her mind like a long lost memory.  Jill was not strong in this world because she had Shiva.  Rather, Shiva was strong because of Jill’s own willpower.  Shiva was so close because Jill wouldn’t break.  No matter how much she may bend, she would not break.  She had a strong suspicion that with this newfound acceptance she could truly face Titan now rather than be battered into the ground.  Will.  The very thing humans and Eikons alike were never meant to know was the very thing which empowered them both.  Ultima truly was a fool.  “His downfall will be great indeed.”

        Torgal whined at her, nosing the package she’d forgotten about.  Ysay left this for her.  Keeper?  She had to admit she liked it better than Dominant.  While she didn’t want to be any country’s Keeper or Dominant, maybe she could accept being a Keeper unto herself.  She would choose her way forward, and Shiva’s too.  Luckily she knew exactly what that meant for her.  She would defend her home and clan and do what needed to be done to end Ultima’s curse.  Because that was the best way forward that she knew.

        Deciding she might as well have a look at what Ysay had gifted her, she carefully pulled on the strings.  Torgal panted excitedly watching.  The clothes were an incredibly similar style to what she wore, strangely enough.  The bodice was ornate.  The white leather was covered with silver and blue ornaments reminding her of Shiva.  Pale blue sleeves, one with a large black shoulder piece, extended down to the palms and would encircle each finger.  The skirt was the deepest blue she’d ever seen and there were two decorative leather pieces to go over her knees.  Even the black leather belt was similar to what she already wore.  It was absolutely beautiful.  She couldn’t wait to try it on.  Try it on and show Clive.  The look on his face would be one to remember, she was certain.  But that was for later.

        “I think we’re done here.  Let’s go before anyone gets too worried.”  Torgal barked once more and turned to the doorway.  Taking package and letter, Jill followed.

        The trip out of the ruin felt so much longer than going in.  She felt at war with herself, which wasn’t helping.  While her mind was drained from the encounter, her body thrummed with a pent-up energy she didn’t know what to do with.  Nearly ever step she took was accompanied by petting Torgal just to release some of it.  It didn’t help much.  She’d never been so glad to see a lift in her life.  Except maybe the one at the hideaway on a few occasions. 

        “Almost there,” she soothed both herself and Torgal.  The wolf sat down beside her as the lift lurched into motion, nudging her hand for more scratches.  “Thank you for coming with me, boy.  You were a big help.”  If wolves could smile, the way his muzzle stretched at her words was certainly that.  Jill didn’t regret doing this alone.  Even though Clive’s voice in her mind helped pull her through it, this was something she needed to do.  She was proud of herself.  But she was glad Jote had thought to send Torgal with her.  He kept her sane the rest of the time she was down here.

        The lift finally came to rest at the top of the ruin and Jill was not prepared for what she saw.  First was the heaping pile of metal that was some kind of defeated Giant.  She’d never seen this kind before and it had certainly not been there when she first came through.  Next was Clive, Joshua, and Jote, looking her direction expectantly, each with hands near weapons.  When they saw her, the tension visibly left them.  Three sets of shoulders dropped in relief.  She tried to keep her composure walking across to the platform they stood on, but honestly she could feel the heat in her cheeks at their looks and the embarrassed smile would not remain banished from her lips.  It was a little odd attracting such attention.  The moment her steps carried her off the walkway her head jerked up to the sound of heavy footfalls.  She barely had time to set her gift down before she was in Clive’s arms.

        “Please tell me you are alright,” he murmured in the barest of whispers.  His voice was tight.

        “Fine now.  Better than, I think.”

        “Thank the Founder…”  He sagged against her in relief.  “Please do not shut me out like that again.”  Something in his tone caught her heart.

        “Clive, are you alright?”  He was quiet a moment too long before answering.

        “Fine now.”  Oh, he was certainly hiding something.  She knew him far too well, however.  If she forced him to speak before he was ready, he would only hide it that much harder.  Since everyone looked safe and well, she filed it away for later.  Finally he pulled away to look her up and down as if to confirm she was indeed unscathed.

        “It looks as if you had some excitement while I was gone.”  She glanced over to the Giant on the ground.

        “Ah, a bit, yes.  We heard its approach from beyond the door and knew it could be nothing good.”

        “So you did stay outside as you promised?” she teased with an amused grin.

        “Barely of his own volition,” Jote interjected, approaching with Joshua close beside her.  “He asked no less than five times.”

        “That is a most incorrect number,” Clive protested.

        “Agreed,” Joshua said with a familiar, mischievous twist to his lips.  “I am fairly certain it was seven.”  Jill laughed, knowing that probably wasn’t the case.  It would be just like him if it was, though.  Worry was, after all, Clive’s natural state.  “Are you well, Sister?”

        “I am.  A bit tired.”

        “I see you found something at the least.”  If that wasn’t an understatement.  Where to even begin? 

        “I did.  A predecessor left me some things that you may find interesting.  I admit I’m still trying to reason my way through what happened.”  Clive’s arm tensed around her at the implication that something had indeed happened beyond the packages lying beside her.  She leaned into him hoping to assuage some of the worry.  It only made him cling harder.

        “I, for one, am ready to be done with this place,” he said.  “Shall we?”  Jill nodded and Clive began leading her out of the ruin without giving her the chance to pick up her gift.  Jote, however, smiled at her and grabbed them for her.

        “You know this adventure of ours has made me consider something I’d not before,” Joshua began easily as they walked. 

        “Of course it did,” Clive teased.  Joshua made some kind of protesting noise, but continued talking anyway.

        “If we know of Phoenix Gate and now Shiva’s Call, are there other ruins such as this around the Twins?  Might not there be one for each Eikon?”

        “Joshua, I honestly believe you would be the only one with a desire to find each of them, should they exist.”  Clive chuckled at his own jab.  Jill was actually inclined to agree.  These ruins seemed to hold nothing but altered realities and danger.

        “I would like to find out,” Jote added.

        “I knew I could rely on you, Jote!” Joshua exclaimed excitedly.  “Now we only need find a means of entering them when…we’ve…”  His statement unexpectedly trailed off along with his footsteps just before they arrived at the door. 

        “Brother?” Jill called as she turned.  He was looking back toward the lift, the edges of creases just visible around his eyes.

        “I thought I heard something.”

        “We’ve all had enough of Giants today,” Clive answered.  “Let us leave before another makes its appearance.”  But Joshua shook his head slowly.

        “No, it was no construct.  I thought I heard a voice calling out.”  Slowly his hand rose to his chest, thumb idly rubbing a circle around a particular spot in the center.  None of them spoke, straining to hear anything that might have sounded like a voice in this massive space.  It was absolutely silent.

        “Joshua.”  Jote’s voice quivered nervously as she walked back to him.  “There is nothing.  Clive is right.  Let’s go.”  A faint nod answered her even as he continued rubbing that same circle on his chest.  He took a single step toward them when that circle became a clutch, a low, surprised whimper escaping him as his eyes went wide.  “Joshua!”  Jote dropped what was in her arms to support him when his knees buckled.  Unable to fully support his weight, she lowered him down to the ground.  His head snapped up, desperate eyes blazing gold searching for something.

        “Clive, it’s...”  Whatever he’d been trying to say was cut off in another whimper.  Clive and Jill both were already running.  Joshua’s strength vanished entirely just as they reached him, still-golden eyes rolling as he fainted against Jote.  

        “Joshua!” Clive called.  He carefully maneuvered him away from his awkward position against Jote and down to the ground as Jill slid in worriedly to cradle his head.

        “Clive, what’s going on?” she asked hastily. 

        “I don’t know.”  Jill recognized that barely-there voice, ragged and raw.  Clive was barely keeping himself together.  Jote, on the other hand, was already fussing over Joshua.  She called his name repeatedly, tapped his cheek, listened to his heartbeat and breathing, looking him over for injury she didn’t know of.  Joshua didn’t move through any of it.

        “I don’t know,” Jote announced in a thin voice.  “There’s nothing…  I don’t…”

        “It’ll be alright,” Jill tried to comfort the girl despite her own nerves.  His eyes.  That was the answer, it had to be.  “Clive, his eyes.  Did you see?”

        “Gold,” he nodded.  His brow furrowed hard for a moment.  She could see him forcing pieces together around his panic.  “Phoenix,” he finally muttered.  Then he began rubbing his chest in the same spot Joshua had been. 

        “Clive, do not do what I think you are about to,” Jote warned. 

        “It’s the only way to know,” he countered in that same shaky, thin voice.  Jill looked between them utterly confused.

        “What’s going on?” 

        “You’ve already done this twice and it has left you barely standing both times.”

        “I expected you would be more eager for his sake,” Clive bit out.  Jill knew it was worry and fear, but Jote still startled at the heat in it.  To her credit, she didn’t back down.

        “Of course I’m worried.  But I would much rather have only one patient right now than two.  Jill and I might be able to carry Joshua out of this place, but certainly not you.”  Clive leveled a look at the girl that spoke of pure determination.  Whatever they were talking about, he was going to do it no matter what she said.  Jill just wished they weren’t talking around her.  “Fine,” Jote finally relented.  “Only briefly.  Jill, come with me.”

        “Will someone please tell me what is going on?”  At Clive’s nod toward her, she shifted Joshua back down to the floor and followed Jote’s lead. 

        “We discovered something unexpected while fighting the Giant,” Jote explained as they walked to the far end of the platform.  Before she could finish Clive semi-primed.  It didn’t look right.  She’d seen him do this a thousand times but it never looked like that.  Had he not already been kneeling she was certain he would have keeled over under a strain she couldn’t see. 

        “Clive!”  Jote pulled her back when she tried to run.

        “This is more help to him right now.  That merged Eikon between Ifrit and Phoenix?  He can use it but it opens him up to more aether than he can process.”

        “What does that mean?”  The semi-prime lasted only a blessed few seconds.  The moment it was gone Clive landed heavily on his back beside Joshua, breathing heavily.  This time Jote let her run for him, following closely behind herself. 

        “He’s fine,” he choked out when they got near.  As his breathing slowly returned to a normal rhythm Jill helped him sit up expecting a better explanation to everything.  “He’s alright.  I believe he was trying to tell me it was the Phoenix.”  Jill had heard quite enough of this vague nonsense, however.

        “Clive Rosfield, I suggest you start explaining yourself.  Now.”   

        This was not where he should be.

        “Jote!  Clive!  Jill!” 

        Joshua spun in a circle desperately trying to figure out where he was.  It didn’t make sense.  They were leaving that Fallen ruin, an Apodytery of sorts beneath Shiva’s Call.  But everything around him was a murky darkness, dark like a night with only a sliver of moon in the sky.  The only recognizable feature was the silhouette of some far off structure against the sky.  The smell of smoke and ash filtered through the air from somewhere, though he couldn’t identify where.  It was all too desolate for much of anything.

        He couldn’t stay here, wherever here was.  He reached for his flames, intending to light his path to something.  Anything.  But they weren’t there.  The Phoenix was gone.  A dull panic he knew to be a foolish one built like acrid bile in his throat.  Clive had the Phoenix.  He hadn’t taken him, had he?  When could he have even done so?  No, stay calm.  That was ridiculous.  Joshua had felt the Phoenix just moments ago.  He took a deep breath to settle himself.  He was getting carried away.  Not only would Clive never do that to him, if he even could, Joshua would still retain his flames in some capacity if he had.  No, the Phoenix being totally absent had only happened one other time.  Which meant…

        “It’s okay.  Now we can talk.”  Joshua spun around at the unexpected voice, reaching for his blade on instinct only to find it missing.  He scanned around for sword or anything he could use but the scan stopped rather quickly upon reaching the owner of that voice.  He should have recognized his own as a child.  “Don’t be afraid.”

        “Who are you?” he asked, not quite ready to believe what he was already thinking.

        “Is this awkward?  Here, I’ll help.”  With a wave of his hand, the boy who looked like Joshua vanished in a spray of sparks and reappeared as precisely what he’d been expecting.  A small Phoenix.

        “You’re the Phoenix,” he breathed.  Knowing his Ekon was, in some capacity, sentient did not prepare him to speak with said Eikon.  Expecting this turn of events also had not helped.

        “Yup!”  The Phoenix still sounded like him.  It was…uncomfortable.  “Don’t worry, you’re safe.  Our brother and sister and Jote are kinda worried, but I told Clive it was fine.”

        “You…  What?”  Joshua prided himself on his mind but he was honestly struggling in the face of an Eikon speaking to him.  Maybe he was actually losing his mind… 

        “I told Clive we were fine!  He reached out to me and I told him myself.  He probably thought it was you, but that’s okay.  I’m just happy he finally realized I was there.  He can be awfully dense, can’t he?”  The Phoenix giggled.

        “How can you even be in two places at once like that?” 

        “I dunno how it works,” the Phoenix shrugged.  Or sort of shrugged.  For a bird.  “All I know is I’ve been making his chest flutter like I do for you and he never noticed.  And I don’t think you did, either!  That’s just mean!”  The Firebird dropped back down to the ground with another shower of sparks, reappearing as a young Joshua with his arms crossed in front of him and bottom lip stuck out. 

        “Are…are you pouting?” he asked incredulously. 

        “You are so mean!”  The Phoenix stomped his foot.  And Joshua laughed.  He laughed in utter disbelief of everything he was seeing and hearing, rubbing his eyes as if it might all prove a bad dream when he opened them.  The revered Firebird of Rosaria was pouting. 

        “This has been an experience, truly, but I cannot stay.  I do not wish to alarm anyone any longer than necessary.”  Having no idea which direction to go or how to get out of here, he started walking toward the building in the distance.  He didn’t think it would be that simple, but it was the only idea he had.

        “Wait, that’s it?  I thought you’d come see me now that you’d finally gone somewhere with enough aether and you’re just gonna leave?”

        “I’m afraid you’ll need to speak more plainly than that,” Joshua said without stopping.  His frustration with his Eikon was mounting, especially if he did what Joshua thought he had.  It took him a moment to put the pieces together, but the voice he’d thought he heard sounded very much like what he was now hearing.  And there was a surge of aether that pulled his awareness into the black just before he was here.  Ergo, the Phoenix had orchestrated all of this and worried everyone for conversation.  Suddenly two small hands wrapped around his wrist, tugging him as hard as they could backward.

        “That over there won’t get you back.  It’s just an illusion.  A part of your mind and mine that we can’t let go.  But I can get you back.  Please, just talk to me first?  I promise Brother, Sister, and Jote are fine.  I’m watching over them from Clive.  He’s telling Jill about me now.  I swear I wouldn’t worry them that bad.  I love them too, you know.”  Joshua sighed, annoyed at the hurt he could hear in the Eikon’s voice at the mere hint that he wouldn’t care. 

        “Fine,” he bit out.  He should be excited.  The first person to ever speak directly to an Eikon.  That hadn’t happened even in the Apodytery.  There was so much he could learn in this situation yet all he felt was frustration over the means.  The Phoenix stopped tugging on his arm but didn’t let go.  The Phoenix.  A literal Eikon known the world over was holding him back, had dragged him here to speak.  Joshua let out a measured breath.  This was the same entity that saved them all by throwing them back in time.  He could trust him.  “What did you wish to speak with me on?” he said with a more deliberate calm.

        “Lots of stuff, really.  I always thought you’d come back to the Apodytery to talk to me and you never did.  You never went anywhere with enough aether for me to speak after that.  I know I wasn’t great at talking then, but I always thought you’d come back.  Now we’re here with Jill and you still don’t want to talk to me.” 

        “First and foremost, I had no idea you could speak let alone that you wished to.  Secondly, if I did not know better, I would think you jealous.”  The Eikon frowned.

        “So what if I am?  I had stuff to tell you, you know.”  First pouting then jealousy.  This was swiftly becoming one of the stranger days of Joshua’s life, and that was saying something.

        “I am here now, apparently.  Where do you wish to begin?”  He thought the Phoenix would be happy that Joshua was no longer struggling against him or trying to leave.  Instead his features darkened and he released his arm, backing away a few steps.

        “The first thing is this.  I wanna know why you hate me.”

        Joshua swallowed heavily around the sudden lump in his throat.  What small resistance he still felt about this situation ceased.  Hate him?  That was something he’d not thought of in a very long time.  So long he never imagined the Phoenix would even know of it.  He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly trying to figure out how he could even explain it.  All this effort and that was what his Eikon wanted to know first.  There was something so childlike and morbid about it.

        “I do not hate you.  There was a time I thought I did, but in truth I hated myself.  You were just…easy to blame.”  Joshua sat down heavily on the ground, pulling one knee up to lean his chin on.  He hated thinking about those days after waking from Phoenix Gate.  Across from him, keeping his distance, the Phoenix mimicked his position on the ground.  “I used you to destroy everything I ever cared about and brought my life as well as many others crashing down in a cloud of ash and smoke.  Of course I hated myself for that.”  With a sickening twist to his stomach he realized that the silhouette he saw in the distance was most likely Phoenix Gate.  Of course it was.  A place neither he nor the Phoenix could fully be rid of.

        “And you’d have never been able to do it without me.”  The Phoenix nodded sagely.  “What about before that?  You never wanted me.”

        “That is not the same thing as hating.”  The Phoenix cocked his head in an almost bird-like motion to prod him to explain.  “It was never about you specifically.  I wished you had chosen my brother.  A great many things would have been different for us if you had.  Both our lives would have been much improved.  Any hatred I may have once harbored prior to Phoenix Gate stemmed only from that, and even then at my weakest moments.  Once I understood who he was, however, I understood that you must have been forced to make do with me instead.  I made peace with that, and with you.”  He’d never said that aloud and he hadn’t meant to now.  It was rather cathartic to finally acknowledge.

        “Hm.”  The Phoenix looked at the ground between them, picking at some rock partly worked into the dirt.  Then he stood and walked around a bit.  After several moments another flare of sparks sprung out to change his appearance to a younger Clive, except with flames around him of the Phoenix rather than Ifrit.  “I tried.  He was too resistant to aether to accept me.  Is that what you wanted to hear?”  The air rushed from his lungs in an mirthless laugh.  Never had he dreamed of saying it to anyone, but he’d always known.  Somehow, deep down, he’d always known that he wasn’t supposed to be the Phoenix really.  Yet to hear it confirmed from the Eikon himself felt like a shock to his core.

        “I knew it,” he murmured.  “I was never meant to be the Phoenix.”  It didn’t hurt.  Or, it did, but not for himself.  It just…was.  Joshua could accept that.  He’d always known, after all.  What did hurt was all the accolades and the special treatment for something he was never meant to be.  Everything Clive had ever had to deal with was because of a fluke.  Because the Phoenix had to make do with Joshua.  He nearly jumped out of his skin when the Firebird laughed at him.

        “Wrong!”

        “What?”

        “Wrong!  You were my Dominant all along!”

        “But you just said—”

        “Nope.  Wrong.  It was always meant to be you; we just didn’t know it.  Okay, maybe our brother was my first choice out of tradition, but fate isn’t always a bad thing.  I could’ve waited, you know.  I didn’t have to come back this generation.”

        “Then why did you?”  He blinked through a third shower of sparks to look like Joshua’s younger self once more.  The sight was somehow less unsettling now.

        “Because our brother was resistant.  I had a feeling that it meant something.  Someday Clive would need us beside him for something important.  And you couldn’t do that if you weren’t a Dominant.  At least, that’s the idea.  I wasn’t awake then and instinct is hard to explain.  It turned out to be a perfect thing, though!  I knew he was resistant, but I had no idea that our brother would have my twin.”

        “Twin?” Joshua asked eagerly, leaning forward toward something he’d only speculated.  Damn his own curiosity!  Oh, that cocky grin his Eikon wore…  He knew exactly what he was doing.  “Then Ifrit is your twin brother?”

        “Uh-huh!  Ultima couldn’t keep us together because he was so powerful and unpredictable.  This is the first time he’s been around so I’ve been trying to teach him a few things.”

        “Then…Ifrit is sentient like you.” 

        “Not exactly.  So it’s kinda hard to explain.  I can’t really communicate much with any of you aside from making your chest flutter a little.”  Joshua started at the realization of some few times he’d felt that very thing and thought it his imagination.  He’d said that earlier as well, hadn’t he?  The information got lost in the ridiculous sight of the Eikon pouting over it.  The Phoenix didn’t seem to notice him absently rubbing his chest as he took that in.  “It takes a bunch of aether for me to do much of anything.  I’m watching over you from the background.  Ifrit is…well, he’s not exactly aware on his own.  He gets a little from me, kinda like mud on one shoe rubbing off on the other.  That wouldn’t happen if he wasn’t my twin.  With me around, he sometimes feeds off of Clive’s feelings.  Like this one time, when he was fighting on that beach?  I reached out to Ifrit and with that connection, Ifrit found some determination he’d felt from our brother in the past and we got Clive back on his feet together.”

        “Then Ifrit’s feelings or emotions are fleeting and not solely his own.”

        “Yeah, something like that.”  That was a relief.  The last thing they needed was two sentient fire Eikons.  And overly excitable twins at that. 

        “How long have you been with Clive as well, then?”

        “Oh, I was there all along.  Our brother just didn’t notice.”  At Joshua’s insistent expression, the Phoenix explained.  “All the Eikons returned with him.  That part was easy.  But the part of me that you gave him was holding onto the memories of others.  I tried to tell him in a dream through the Blessing.  It didn’t really work.  I figured it wouldn’t be long after the Apodytery before Clive was able to release those memories, though, so I gave him one of my feathers.  It made it easier to reposition myself where I was supposed to be.  How he didn’t notice I don’t know.”  A series of emotions ran through his mind that he had steadfastly been ignoring until now, eventually settling on worry.  He hadn’t dared think on it before.  Clive was already primed to be Ultima’s vessel.  While he trusted his brother implicitly in that regard and did not believe for a moment that he would succumb, the knowledge could easily spur Ultima to actions greater than they anticipate.  “He’ll be alright, you know.”

        “What do you mean?”

        “I’m still a part of you.  You were worried that Clive already has everything Ultima needs.  But Clive will be alright.  You’ll be there and Jill.  And everyone in Rosaria.  And the friends I brought back for you.  You have everything you need right there.  Strength, love, and faith.”  Joshua smirked in spite of himself.

        “Hm.  You remind me a bit of Clive.”  The Phoenix rose again and clasped his arms behind his back.

        “He taught me a lot.  Everything, really.”  It was odd, studying the expressions of an Eikon that chose to have a conversation while taking on the appearance of your younger self.  But as he did just that, he found deep respect and love. 

        “What happened on Origin?”  He knew, basically.  But if they were going to speak, then he was going to ask the questions he’d never been able to.

        “You mean when I awakened?”

        “And why you chose to save us.”  The Phoenix sighed, frown taking over his features.

        “I woke in Clive’s soul and the first thing I saw was you.  Our brother loved us so much but the first thing I learned was sorrow and helplessness.  Then he tried to heal you and I learned futility.  And while he poured his being into fixing the world, I heard his thoughts.  I learned what it meant to choose and endure.  To love and live.  All those memories buried in my aether flared to life.  I guess that’s what I couldn’t say when I first reached out to you both.  Over the years I found the words.”  Their surroundings didn’t change fully, but in the direction the Phoenix was looking, it showed Clive at the end on Origin, surrounded by flames.  Thankfully it was only an image.  Joshua did not want to see that again.  “As Clive’s soul faded, I lived.  For the first time, I really lived.  And it hurt.  Those seconds of life and all I had was loss.  Everything was already gone.  I couldn’t take it.  So like you and Clive, I forged a new path for us all.”  That image of Origin faded, leaving them both in despondent silence.  Whatever Joshua had expected to hear, that was not it.  He’d never given much thought to what that must have been like.  Feeling a wave of sympathy, he got to his feet and placed a hand on the Phoenix’s shoulder.

        “Words cannot ease a pain such as this.  I would know.”  So many times he had only angry words for those around him carrying sympathies for everything he’d lost, sympathies he could never accept.  Only Jote ever helped.

        “You would, wouldn’t you?”

        “Surely you know where this leads?  We will like as not still be forced to eradicate magic and Eikons alike.”

        “I know.  I always did.  How many people over the centuries sacrificed everything for me?  How many Rosarians?  How many Dominants did my presence kill?  It’s about time I was the one to make a sacrifice for them.”  He drew a deep breath, visibly moving past the subject and Joshua let him.  “There’s some other stuff I couldn’t figure out how to tell you then.  Finding a voice was hard.  So while I’ve got the chance, let me tell you.  Everyone will want to know this.”

        “You have my attention.”  He felt like he should have paper to keep notes.

        “First off, all of you are something like Eikons now.”  Turns out, paper would have helped little.  He stared at the boy.  He heard the words.  He understood the words.  Individually.

        “I’m sorry?” was all he could manage in the face of them.

        “When I brought you all back, it was in the aether of the Nexus.  Your souls and memories needed something to latch onto for the trip.  The aether was all I had.  So, in a way, that makes your future selves pseudo-Eikons.  That’s why you look different when you semi-prime.”  The Phoenix let him collect himself after that.  Did that make sense?  In a way, it did.  Maybe.  If nothing else it potentially answered a question they’d all had at one point or another.  The one who had executed it would know better than he, certainly.

        “Alright,” he said after a while.  “I was not expecting such news.”

        “Too strange?”  Joshua scoffed.

        “If you ever suddenly find yourself partly human, you will understand.”  The Eikon laughed and moved on.

        “Okay.  There’s a little more to that.  Because of your pseudo-Eikon status, you’re all more resistant to the curse too.  The extra aether gives you a little more protection by acting kind of like exposure.  Like being immune to a disease you’ve had before.  Or increasing your tolerance to ale.”  Joshua cocked an eyebrow at him.

        “The idea that an Eikon standing before me as a child speaking of alcohol tolerance is frankly alarming.”  The Phoenix laughed it off with a shrug.

        “Some of my Dominants were heavy drinkers.”

        “I am not delving into that,” Joshua muttered.  “Very well then.  Unique Eikons and more resistant to the curse.  I am certain this news of the curse at the least will ease many minds.”

        “It already fixed Cid’s curse.  He had just a tiny little bit of it and when that pseudo-Eikonic status settled, it removed it.  I wish it could work for others, but…”

        “But it required the Nexus, a sentient Eikon, and breaking a fundamental law of the universe to accomplish,” Joshua nodded sadly.  That problem would not be so easily fixed.  “When you say us, I presume you did in fact bring Dion as well?”

        “Yup!  Not sure where he is right now, but he’ll know you.  Oh, and his friend, too, I think.  Dion didn’t take to his memories as well as everyone else because of something he blamed himself for.  So Bahamut and I had to get a little creative.”

        “Please tell me Bahamut is not also sentient.”

        “No, just me.  But compared to bringing you all back, prodding another Eikon to do something like that was pretty easy.”  That was a relief. 

        “Good.  Anything else?”  The Phoenix suddenly got serious, quite a stark contrast to his lightheartedness.  He gave Joshua a solemn nod and beckoned him to kneel closer, which he did.

        “Just one more thing.  For you.”  He picked up Joshua’s hand to hold gently in both of his.  “Sometimes I think you are more Phoenix than me.  You never give in.  You’ve been so close to death more than once and you kept pushing.  That wasn’t me keeping you alive after Phoenix Gate; I can’t act on my own without you.  That was all you.  Same with Ultima’s prison.  I was actively killing you keeping it there.  You were the one continuing to live in spite of it.  I learned everything from our brother in his final moments.  But I don’t think I would have learned anything, I don’t think I’d have woken up, if it wasn’t for you.  You laid the groundwork for it all.  Love and life and choice.  Even my ambition I got from you.”  Well, resetting time with five future Dominants certainly qualified as ambitious.  “You’re the real spirit of the Phoenix.  I’m just aether.  So, will you be the Phoenix, Joshua?”  The question took him by surprise.  The entire confession did. 

        “I’m not sure I follow.”

        “I don’t think I’d be able to leave if you said no.  Guess it doesn’t really matter much.  But I’ve never been able to get to know my Dominants.  I’ve never been able to ask.  I want you to be my last Dominant.  I want you to be the one history remembers as the Phoenix.  The one even I say is more the embodiment of life than me.  Is that okay?”  The Phoenix chewed his lip nervously waiting for the answer.

        A world where he could choose.  That’s what they’d fought and died for.  Nothing more than a choice.  To not be cattle to an uncaring god nor to the masses demanding fealty for the luxury of another’s magic.  Most of his life he’d believed he was the Phoenix by happenstance.  Nothing made him special enough for that.  Now he knew why the Eikon had chosen him.  And maybe it hadn’t been all happenstance.  If he chose to believe it, maybe he and the Phoenix were a good fit for one another.  Maybe he was meant to be the Phoenix.  A world where he could choose.  Would he choose this if he could?  Once he would have said absolutely not.  The only reason he didn’t jump at the chance to give Clive his Eikon was for his brother’s sake.  He felt little hesitation at the idea of the Eikon itself being missing.  Now, though… 

        “It would be my honor.”  A wide, excited smile broke out on the Phoenix’s face and he threw his arms around Joshua’s neck. 

        “Thank you thank you thank you!”  Joshua couldn’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm as he hugged him back.  Somehow in a way he couldn’t quite explain, he knew that he and his Eikon were going to be closer than they’d ever been.  What exactly that meant he wasn’t sure, but he found it didn’t alarm him.  “I’ll always watch out for you all, as long as I’m here,” he vowed softly.  “And as happy as this has made me, it’s time I got you back.  Clive basically understands what’s happening here and Jill trusts his judgement, but Jote is getting really, really worried.”  The Phoenix pulled away, still smiling.  “I like her a lot.” 

        “As do I,” he admitted, just a tiny bit embarrassed.  The Phoenix smiled wider, hugging him one more time.

        “Maybe you should tell her.  You and I know better than most that time isn’t always a guarantee.”  He tilted Joshua’s head down to kiss his forehead in a way his father had done when he was a child.  “Give them my love.”  His vision went dark with the pressure as the Phoenix gently pushed his consciousness back where it belonged.

Chapter Text

        We’re just gonna talk.  Don’t worry about us!

        Clive frowned looking down at Joshua’s still form.  Those were the words he heard when he connected to the Phoenix and he thought he could trust them, but they sounded nothing like the way Joshua would say anything.  It didn’t sound like his voice, either.  Maybe when he was young perhaps.  Clive desperately wanted to do something but that was the limit of his ability this time.  There was nothing else save trust and wait.  Jill took the news of it all fairly well considering.  By this point the weird was such a staple of their lives it made sense that she did, in a rather uncomfortable way.  It wasn’t just Joshua that had him on the edge of his fraying nerves, though.  Jote had pulled Jill away to make it easier for him.  He’d recognized that and greatly appreciated it.  He’d still felt her aether.  It wasn’t flickering.  It was strong and intense.  A too-full moon that washed every dark corner in her light.  There was no comparison for any of this.  No one should be able to “see” aether like that.  Yet somehow he knew hers had changed.  That flickering had been trouble.  How he longed to ask.  She wasn’t ready and he didn’t want to upset her, so he kept quiet, the question sitting on the tip of his tongue being constantly bitten back until he thought it might draw blood. 

        He reached over to scratch Torgal’s side, the wolf having taken up a vigil laying across Joshua’s knees.  This was proving to be a hell of a day.  Jote laid her fingers against Joshua’s pulse to check his heartbeat for probably the twentieth time.  A hand on the chest would follow.  Ah, there it was.  Checking his breathing.  She said nothing, which he assumed meant there was nothing to say.  She was holding herself well for her patient even if there was nothing she could do for him, but she was starting to get antsy.  The checks were becoming more frequent and this time when she removed her hand, she laced her fingers between Joshua’s.  Jill caught his eye with a prominent frown and twitch of her eyes towards the girl.  She’d noticed too. 

        “Jote,” she said, sliding a bit closer.  Clive silently thanked her for knowing something to say.  She always did, it seemed.  “Did he ever tell you about the time he had the entire castle worried sick over him for nearly a fortnight because he did naught but sleep?”  Jote shook her head.  Clive half scoffed, half laughed.  He remembered this.  “One winter when he was eight, I think, he stayed in bed for days upon days.  No one could get him to wake for much of anything, not even food.  Everyone was frantic thinking something was dreadfully wrong.  Do you know what it was?  Books.”  Jote finally cracked a very small smile.  “He’d found a collection of books his mother didn’t want him reading.  So his young mind naturally assumed the best solution was to wait until others were in bed and stay awake all night reading.  With his magic, there were no candles left behind and he was quite adept at hiding other signs that could have caused question.  He was fully content reading the night away, eating what he found in the kitchens, and sleeping all day.  The kitchens, as it happened, were how he was caught.”

        “What happened?”

        “Lord Murdoch just so happened to be in the right place at the right time to catch Joshua walking the halls with light, book, and a pie, happy as could be.  He’d so thoroughly switched his days and nights he was practically incapable of functioning during the day.  I thought he’d never get straightened out.  He was so grumpy!”  Jote snickered at the story, some of the concern leaving her eyes for a moment.  Clive found himself snickering as well.  By the flames, was grumpy an understatement.  It was, as far as he could remember, the one time he’d found his brother completely insufferable.

        “You left out the best part, Sister,” Joshua murmured sleepily, startling them all.  “They were your books from the north.  Not only had I a steady supply, it was all new.”  He cracked a small smile as he blinked up at them.  “You would be surprised how often I drifted back into that habit over the years.  Much to the irritation of the Undying when they found me sleeping in a corner with a pile of books that once had been neatly shelved prior to the lights being snuffed in the library.  They never worked out how I always snuck in with none any the wiser.”  He started to sit up, but Jote pressed a firm hand on his shoulder.

        “You should lie still a bit longer.  How do you feel?”

        “Bit of a headache, but otherwise well.  Irritating bird could have asked first.”  Collectively they laughed with relief at his sense of humor being intact, which prompted a grin from Joshua himself at having managed to coax a laugh from them.  “It appears the Phoenix was jealous, of all things, that our trip here was for Jill alone.”

        “Jealous,” Clive deadpanned. 

        “Yes, believe it or not.  We had quite the interesting conversation.  By the way, Brother, you are, in fact, an idiot.  He has been with you this whole time.”  Clive scoffed.

        “I would have noticed had it been so long,” he protested, rubbing a hand across his chest at the uncomfortable flutter he felt just under his skin.  Jote’s protests over semi-priming again may have been founded after all.

        “Ah, that fluttering I imagine you feel about now?  That would be the Phoenix agreeing with me.  I’ve felt the same and ever dismissed it as pure imagination.”  Clive began to protest, to push it all off as fanciful concoction, which only spurred his chest to more fluttering.  He wasn’t fond of the sensation, but now that he thought about it, it did feel much like wings beating against a hard surface.  Not to mention, how could Joshua possibly know about it when he’d never mentioned the feeling before?  Somewhat to Jote’s displeasure, Joshua took a deep breath and sat up, moving Torgal off his knees with a grateful scratch.  “We spoke at length about many things, but in truth I would rather be done with this place now.  We can speak of it later.  It has kept this long.”  He sniffed and rubbed a finger across his nose.  It came away with blood.  “Oh.”  Jote instantly reached for her supplies with one hand while turning Joshua around to face her with the other.

        “Just a nosebleed,” she announced.  She held a small bandage to his nose.  “Hold that there.  Tip your head back.”

        “That did not happen last time,” Clive commented, a bit concerned.

        “This was rather different than last time,” Joshua answered.  “When I say we conversed, I mean that quite literally.  He has learned more effective communication since then.  In fact he was quite disappointed that I never returned to speak with him as only places such as this with an abundance of aether allow him to do so.”

        “Could he not have done that more gently?” Clive groused.  “None of us appreciated the sudden fainting.”

        “Nor did I.  If you recall, however, I did much the same for a few moments in the Apodytery.  It is a rather taxing affair.”

        “Hm.  I had actually forgotten about that.  We were forced into battle against the Iron Kingdom just after we emerged.”  Jote sucked in a quick breath.

        “Did Wade not tell me you flew from Phoenix Gate to Rosalith that night?”  Her eyes went wide.  “And you did this just before?”  Joshua laughed.  Not the reaction Clive would have chosen at the moment, not with a physicker.

        “I only spent a week sleeping as I predicted I would.  Not the worst way to spend my time, considering.”  Jote’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  She wouldn’t say anything now, but if his poor brother was blind enough to say anything in that moment, Clive was not going to stop the consequences.  So he took pity on him before he could make the wrong move.

        “Let’s get out of here.”  Jote dropped the matter, but he did hear a muttered reckless fools as he helped Joshua to his feet. 

        Together, they left the ruin without further incident.  The sun was low on the horizon by the time they emerged back into the temple complex and out of the windowless hall.  The plan had always been to stay at least the night, so they set about finding a place to make themselves something to eat.  In a complex so massive and so abandoned, they decided they did not necessarily need to stay together.  In fact many of the rooms were still inhabitable for the most part, if the bedding itself was questionable.  They talked of mundane things as they ate, no one really wanting to speak of the day’s events.  They were all tired and worn thin, more so after getting a warm meal in them.  Joshua fell asleep leaning on Torgal before the conversation of staying another day came up.  They knew what his vote would be anyway.  Clive didn’t personally care much one way or the other if they stayed so long as their supplies were enough for the return through the Blight.  Having found this relatively verdant space, that wasn’t so much a concern.  It was Jill’s desire to stay, though, that cemented the plan. 

        Not long after that she and Clive left the room to find a place to stay.  Most of the rooms they looked at were surprisingly usable for the most part.  The walls were sturdy, they were dry, and the hearths were clear enough to use.  Quite a blessing in an abandoned place like this.  Eventually they settled on one after looking through half a dozen just out of curiosity.  He’d thought for a moment of deliberately taking her to Shiva’s quarters, but wasn’t exactly sure if that was the thing to do tonight or not without knowing what happened in the depths of the ruin.  He built a fire in their chosen room, a spacious and simple corner of the temple, while trying to decide how and if to broach the subject with her.  Behind him, Jill spread out their bedrolls on top of the bed after thoroughly checking it.  By the time he’d finished, he’d nearly convinced himself to simply let her speak of it when she was ready.

        “Here.”  She surprised him by handing him an open letter that had seen better days almost as soon as he turned from the fire. 

        “What’s this?”

        “What I found from my predecessor.  I want you to read it.”

        Clive looked at her dubiously for a moment before submitting to the insistence in her voice and sitting near the fire to read, glad she’d started this herself.  The letter was a sorrowful tale.  Writing to someone you could only hope existed as a way of addressing your own fears was such a desperate decision.  He had several questions this former Dominant didn’t or couldn’t answer.  What did the thegns expect her to do?  Where was she going?  What happened to her?  The thread of an answer existed in one simple fact: Drake’s Eye did indeed fall.  Interesting that she could sense the malignant will of Ultima without knowing what she was feeling.  That little piece of information might have been useful the first time.  Not that they would have known what it meant.  Perhaps it would have given them pause in taking out the Mothercrystals.  None of that was what mattered right now, though.  The only thing that truly mattered to him was Jill.

        “She’s right, you know.”  He handed the letter back to her.  “The strength of glaciers and life of rivers.  Founder knows I never would have made it without you beside me, lending me that strength.  You have always been the strongest person I know.”  Jill looked away and down at her hands at that.

        “Would that I had the same thought when I read it.”  Scooting in closer, Clive took her hands in his, waiting for her to speak.  “Do you remember the rabbit I tried to help when we were children?”  Clive started at the reference.  That was something he’d long ago forgotten about.  The first secret they ever shared.

        “I do.  It was luck I was in the garden then.”

        “It did live, didn’t it?”

        “If you ask if I lied, of course I did not.  I set it free myself.  After Joshua was quite finished stroking its ears.  He was absolutely enamored with them.”  Jill giggled, holding onto his hands tighter.  “What brought that about?”  When her smile faded, he started tracking soothing circles on the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

        “I thought for a moment that I did find another monster down there.  A survivor.  I felt myself slipping, Clive.”  Painfully he schooled his expression to a neutral calm.  The flickering.  It was trouble after all.  “It was not exactly as you described it, but similar.  Some semblance of myself wielded words as a weapon, cursing me with every life I took in exchange of my own.  That rabbit because I was too scared to stand up to your mother.  My father and others of the north because I was the Silvermane’s daughter and they sought to protect me.  So many in Mount Drustanus and on battlefields.”  Her breath hitched and shook, a single tear tracing down her cheek.  “You and Joshua that last day.  I failed everyone because I was a coward too desperate to see another day.”  His hand surged to her cheek, turning her toward him perhaps a bit too roughly and holding her close where he could see her eyes and little else.

        “You failed no one.  There was no saving us.  You know that.  We made our choice.”  She smiled sweetly and covered his hand with her own. 

        “I know.  Part of me was trying to drag myself out of the mire when I heard you.  It gave me the push I needed to start thinking again.  I remembered that rabbit lived and how little my resistance would have mattered.  I remembered what you and Joshua told me of Origin.  I believed you far more than a monster of my own making.”  He tilted her forehead down to meet his own, relief coursing through him. 

        “Thank the Founder that worked,” he whispered.  He brushed his thumb back and forth across her cheek.  “You are a survivor, Jill.  We all are.  There is nothing shameful in that.”

        “Shameful?  Perhaps not.  But I always harbored a deep guilt that it was I who survived and not others.  I thought I’d moved past it after Imreann.  I think instead I just buried it.” 

        Jill fell quiet and Clive said nothing more, content to just have her safely in his space.  He could say little against her for feeling guilty.  He’d never even dream of such hypocrisy.  He knew how little difference there was between them in that regard.  Only years of work let him turn a page on the killer he had been and, though extremely rare now, there were still days that the monster of guilt and uncertainty rose once more to try to sweep him under. 

        “I did it, Clive,” Jill whispered softly.  “Down in that nightmare.  I forgave myself instead of just moving on.  And I think Shiva feels closer to me somehow.  Like we are more connected than ever.”  He pulled back just slightly to watch her, finding absolute pride and happiness looking back at him.

        “Is that something you want?”  The firelight danced through her eyes when she looked away.

        “I would not have sought it out.  It has given me a newfound understanding now that it’s happened.  Our Eikons are only as strong as we are.  And my ice, my soul, is not so weak any longer.”  She turned back to him, beautiful, soft, fierce determination set in her eyes.  Unshakeable.  He put one knuckle under her chin just to appreciate it.  Never had she looked more beautiful than that moment. 

        “Jill Warrick, Queen of the Ice.”  She leaned in to kiss him softly.  He could almost feel a frigid chill on her lips.  It wasn’t unpleasant.  Rather it was like a wonderful, quiet morning that all chose to spend in bed when it proved more crisp than expected.

        “What if I wasn’t?” she murmured against him, question fanning across his lips as she pulled away.

        “Wasn’t Jill Warrick?  Or Queen of the Ice?”  She bit her lip gently, eyes unsteady on his even as she fought to keep them in place.  He wasn’t sure why she was so nervous.

        “The former.” 

        “Well,” he said slowly, clearing his throat to buy himself a moment to figure out what to say.  “You call the most powerful man in Rosaria Father.  I think if you have a change in mind he could grant it.”

        “And…and what if we were to change it?  T-to make it…to make it ‘Rosfield’ instead?’  Clive blinked, mind going completely blank at the implication.  He searched her eyes for indications of, well, anything.  Teasing?  Seriousness?  An alternate meaning?  Exactly what he thought?  Of course they’d thought about it and talked about it.  He always meant to bring it up when the time felt right.  Was she really taking the step he hadn’t?

        “That…”  His voice cracked embarrassingly.  Trying to get a grip on himself, he swallowed roughly.  “That sounded remarkably like a proposal, Lady Warrick.”  The satisfied grin she bore said more than words ever could.

        Clive didn’t have the chance to smile much less reply.  Of its own will his body pulled him forward, grabbing hold of her lips almost possessively.  Jill threw her arms around his neck, giggling more into the kiss.  Giggles that turned swiftly into contented sighs as she kissed him just as hard.  When he pulled back, her cheeks were flushed a wonderful color he would happily dedicate himself to keeping there the rest of her life.  He reached into his pack, glad he’d not been far away from it because he did not want to be far from her right now.  Down in the bottom, hidden beneath an extra scrap of leather he’d never cut off, was a pouch.  Why he’d put it there when they left he had no idea.  In fact he hadn’t realized he had until their second night out.  Maybe some deep part of him knew when he didn’t.  He pulled the pouch out now, heart thundering in his chest despite knowing exactly what was going to happen.

        “I have been thinking for some time yet it hasn’t seemed the right time nor place to bring it up.  Neither of us wanted the impersonal affairs of state and I had thought it our fate to one day be forced into that if we were ever to consider marriage.  Selfishly I chose to keep you to myself rather than go through that.  But those we love are returning to us.  Somehow in this cursed world, they are coming back.  Some we know and some we will get to bring into our family again.”  He looked up to find tears in her eyes, her smile telling him she agreed.  Hands trembling, he pressed the pouch into her hands.  “Maybe we can do something for ourselves for a change.  With those we love beside us.”  She poured out the contents curiously only to stare at them, absolutely transfixed.  He’d never dared imagine what her reaction to this might be.  It was a somewhat unorthodox way to propose.  In her palm lay a pair of delicate ear cuffs, crafted with the same design his had.  “I would very much like to hear you introduce yourself as Jill Rosfield.”  Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, her smile, the most beautiful smile in the world, meeting his gaze so much like it did that night on the Shadow Coast.  She tried to speak, but when words wouldn’t come she laughed, nodded vigorously, and knocked him to the ground with a flurry of kisses.

        Eventually she sat up, or sat back, more appropriately, arms still resting on his abdomen to fix the cuffs into her ears.  He didn’t remember being gifted his.  He knew it had been a gift from his father when he was incredibly young, some kind of heirloom of their house gifted to all the male children.  The Empire had stopped trying to take that singular tie to himself away after he sent half a dozen people to the infirmary with burns that wouldn’t heal properly and another few with sword wounds that put them out of service.  The fact it had been a part of him his entire life, every miserable and wonderful part of it, meant more to him than the meaning it likely had that he'd never asked about.  All he needed to know was that they denoted House Rosfield.  And now Jill was wearing them.  Jill Rosfield.  Clive had imagined what she’d look like wearing them since he’d commissioned them not long after Cid showed up.  Seeing it now, seeing it in reality rather than just in his mind, it rammed it home.  He was going to marry this woman.  Not soon, knowing them, but he didn’t care about that.  He was going to marry her. 

        “How do they look?” 

        Clive couldn’t answer her.  He couldn’t find the words to tell her that they always should have been there or that they were perfect for her because she was the only one he would ever dream of gifting such a thing to.  Something else had to say it all for him.  In the span of a breath he’d lifted himself onto one arm to catch her lips, hand sneaking back into her hair.  It wasn’t a gentle kiss.  It was full of desperation and unspoken words.  A language Jill thankfully understood by now.  Or, he thought she did.  When he tried to drag her back down with him, she pushed against his chest, gracefully shifting to her feet and standing while he toppled over onto his back when she pushed.  Confused, he blinked up at the silhouette of her against the fire.

        The absolutely wicked grin on her lips as she practically skipped past him sent every drop of blood out of his head.  Clive twisted off the ground, grabbing her tightly around the waist before she’d gone far and pulled her back into him.  Jill whined in surprise as she collided with him, hands still playfully shoving against his arm.

        “Where do you think you’re going, Lady Rosfield?” he hissed in her ear.  She trembled in his arms.

        “I think you cannot call me that just yet, Lord Rosfield.” 

        “Oh?”  He kissed her ear, her neck, her shoulder, anything he could reach and relished in every small whimper, tremble, and moan that betrayed her.  “I hear no others protesting.” 

            His hand slipped just a fraction lower on her stomach, content in the knowledge that he had her successfully pinned precisely where he wanted and confident she could not escape.  The thought didn’t extend to the fact that this put him, too, exactly where Jill wanted.  She leaned against him, which pleased him greatly until he realized that was only a cover for her true goal.  One of her hands slipped from his arm to reach between them.  Fingertips grazed across his leathers, testing the waters of what she’d already done to him, with barely enough pressure to feel but it was more than enough to make him groan at her touch.  She laughed as his grip on her loosened from the surprise.  It was easy for her to wriggle free.  She didn’t go far.  Instead she twisted around and leaned up on her toes to nibble at the space under his jaw before he could fully collect himself.  He groaned once more and when she pulled him forward he stumbled obediently until her back hit the tall bedpost. 

        “Jill,” he rasped, leaning on the post with one hand above her head.  She gazed up from heavily lidded eyes, sweet smirk upon her lips toying with him.  He meant to stop her, meant to ask what she wanted while he still had the presence of mind to ask.  But that look, the glimmer of understanding and expectation in those storm-colored irises…  One look and he already knew. 

        She reached up, grazing his abdomen and then chest with agonizing slowness that made his breath hitch.  Buckles and ties fell open beneath her deft fingers.  His sheathe fell to the floor with a dull thud quickly followed by his cloak.  Then she set her attention to buckles of his armor.  He let her do it, fascinated by the intensity with which she approached the task and strangely not impatient at all.  Though he did undo her belt with his free hand.  And then started fiddling with other fasteners where he could reach them until she prompted him to pull his shirt off.  She traced the practically nonexistent scar across his chest from that battle with the Iron Kingdom, chilly fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.  Even if it was mostly invisible, she knew exactly where it had been. 

        “Since I returned from the depths I’ve felt as if energy were vibrating my very bones.  I fear that I would not be able to sleep well in light of that.  Would you help me do something with it so that I might get to sleep?”  Her gaze was falsely coy and it shattered what self-control he had left.  He crushed his mouth to hers, hearing a grateful moan as he did so.  Jill maneuvered them to fall upon the bed in a heap, quickly climbing on top of him and tugging at her own clothing in the process.  By the time they finally fell asleep, it was in a pile of twisted limbs, bruises, scratches, and happy sighs.

        It had been an incredibly long day but Jote’s mind refused to stop spinning itself in circles and her body would simply not release the tension in her muscles.  Joshua was still curled up sound asleep with Torgal in the room behind her, the blanket she’d laid over him mussed from his tossing.  Every so often she looked behind just to check from her perch on the banister of what she assumed was once a garden entrance that was now quite overgrown.  She couldn’t see anything between the darkness and the trees, but the cool night air was welcome after being stuck in the stagnant ruin below ground all day. 

        Being in training for something most of her life, she’d developed a habit of assessment at the end of the day.  While the events of today were not so noteworthy for herself specifically, it felt bigger.  Monumental.  Like a milestone.  In combat she thought she’d acquitted herself quite well.  Fighting a Giant of incredible strength like that alongside two Dominants was an experience she wouldn’t forget.  Alright, if she was honest, it was the most memorable thing she’d ever done.  The only thing overshadowing it was the look of absolute pride she saw on Joshua’s face when he realized what she’d done to end the battle.  That alone made her heart race.  She tried to push that to the side.  Personal connections weren’t the point of her self-assessment.

        As a physicker, she did about as much as she could do.  The three Dominants she traveled with were as reckless and careless as they came, especially with their abilities, and she’d realized long ago that someone desperately needed to be the voice of reason.  As the resident physicker, she took that on herself.  It seemed so long since they were brought into the infirmary after the Battle for Rosalith.  She’d taken them all as her own patients that night with no idea what that truly meant.  She still meant it, though.  They were hers to look out for.  She would have preferred Clive listen to her and Jill not to go alone.  Then there was Joshua.  It got much more difficult to assess her actions there when it came so deeply entwined with other feelings.  Fear chief among them.

        Jote was well trained by the Undying.  She knew that treating Dominants could sometimes be an art all its own.  She’d seen Joshua himself be worn down by his Eikon to the point of sleeping for nearly a week.  All that knowledge did nothing to alleviate the fear and worry that surged through her mind when he collapsed against her.  As a physicker she knew she’d done all she could, little though it was.  But she’d never been more scared and that in and of itself was frightening.  Not in the infirmary or the first time Wade had hit her in in the ring or when she’d faced opponents far larger than herself.  No, this was terror brought on by the stillness of someone who had just been so vibrant.  Someone she quickly learned in their travels tended to be a restless sleeper prone to frequent shifts in position.  She’d not seen him so still since that week seven years ago and no one truly knew why.  Her physicker’s knowledge seemed far away as she silently begged him to wake up.  Just like then, though, he was fine.  It was everything else that was different.  She’d wanted to hold him close the moment his blue eyes settled on hers.  A relief she’d never known had spread through her warm as Joshua’s flames.  He looked for her when he woke even though he was speaking to Jill.  It was Jote’s hand he squeezed.

        When she was seven, she heard some of the Undying elders talking about the current Phoenix.  He was frail and sickly, they said.  Not long for the world, they feared.  They were certain he would be the shortest reigning Archduke in history if he even made it to the throne.  Some holiday she didn’t remember was approaching and once more he would be spending it in the infirmary as he had the past three years.  Jote hadn’t known much about the boy save that he was her age.  She felt a sadness for him.  Someone they all looked up to as much as the Undying did deserved a friend, especially on holidays in the infirmary.  That was the day she decided to seek her apprenticeship.  A year later it was approved.  It was expected she would serve the Phoenix in some way; she just chose to be actively involved.  If that girl could see what happened later, she would be amazed.  She didn’t serve the Phoenix, she was his closest confidante.  She did not treat his maladies born of a frail constitution, she fought Giants alongside him.  That girl had grown to hold some level of his affection and to give it in return. 

        What would that little girl think of that?  What would her parents think of it?  All this talk of Jill’s past made her wonder.  Jote could hardly remember her parents, but she wondered all the same.  What might they think to see her now, in the middle of the Blight with three Dominants, standing on equal footing with only a sword, a medicine bag, and herself to offer?  What would they think to know of the feelings she had for Joshua?  Would they think it all heresy?  Or might they be proud?  It was so long ago she didn’t truly need answers.  It was idle curiosity.  She smiled into the darkness.  One thing she knew for certain: she was going to have bragging rights the next time she saw the Guardians.  They would  want to know every detail of their battle with the Giant.  She was so preoccupied imagining their faces she didn’t hear someone walk up behind her until they gently placed a blanket around her shoulders.  She jumped so hard she nearly fell off the banister.

            “I’m sorry!” Joshua said as he grabbed her shoulders to keep her balanced.  “I did not meant to startle you so.”

        “Think nothing of it.” A far more calm statement than she felt given the frantic pace of her heart after the fright.  “I did not realize you’d woken.”

        “I think Torgal had enough of acting as a pillow,” he chuckled.  “Might I join you?”

        “Of course.”  Joshua leaned against the banister beside her, looking up into the darkness of the trees overhead. 

        “This is a terrible view.”

        “I was here for the air.  I just had to turn around for a view.”  The words were out of her mouth before she’d even thought them.  Oh, thank the Founder they couldn’t really see one another in the dark.  “I was thinking about the Guardians when I tell them of the Giant,” she hurriedly said as a cover, knowing they both heard exactly what she said.  They’d talked about their feelings that one night and not again.  Neither seemed ready for it yet, but slips like that were becoming more frequent now that she didn’t feel the need to hide anything.

            “I should very much like to be there when you do.  That was worthy of a heroic knight’s tale.  Certainly a sight I shall not soon forget.”  Was that an attempt to get back at her for her comment?  Or just the truth?  Either way she was glad he couldn’t see her giddy smile.

        “What can I say?  I did not particularly feel like going another round.”  Joshua outright laughed at that, drawing a laugh from her as well.  By the flames what she wouldn’t do to hear that sound every day. 

        They sat in amicable silence for a while.  The reality of where they were standing pressed upon her once more.  They were really here, really doing this.  She’d dreamed of going on some adventure with him for years and it was everything she both expected and feared.  No wonder she’d stayed with him for so long back then.  Jote loved living in Rosalith but this was better.  Freeing. 

        “Thank you for letting me come here,” she said quietly. 

        “Even after I worried you earlier?  I know I did.  Or shall I say, the Phoenix told me you were quite concerned.”

        “Even then, yes.  Although I would like your Eikon to know that I am rather displeased with him for making me worry.”  Joshua scoffed.

        “I was rather displeased with him myself.  For what it may be worth, I think he knows and is apologetic for the circumstances.  He only kept my attention as long as he did by assuring me he was watching out for the three of you while we spoke.  As point of fact, he was quite upset at the insinuation he did not care for you as much as I did.”

        “Hm.  A bit of discomfort serves him right after that.”

        “Would it help to know that he drew our conversation to a close because you were worried?”  Jote looked toward where she knew he stood even though she could only see his silhouette.  It felt like he was watching her. 

        “How could we not be worried?”  She desperately tried to ignore the memory of his weight slumping against her again.

        “You specifically, Jote.  Clive understood, or so he said, and Jill took solace in that fact.  Not you.  He sent me back when you became too worried to permit further discussion.”  She shifted uncomfortably under the imagined looked he was giving her. 

        “Suppose I have grown rather used to your constant repositioning when you sleep,” she said in a voice even she found timid. 

        “I should have warned you of that before we began sharing a tent.  Speaking of, you must be tired.  I think us safe here, but I will keep a watch for you.” 

        “I am not especially tired, in truth.  I fear I would only think myself mad after today were I to try it.”  Jote felt a sudden tension from Joshua seeping through the darkness between them.

        “Would you care to accompany me, then?” he asked in a small, trembling voice.  “I expect a temple such as this has something rather impressive to offer.  If you might like to see such a thing?”  Instantly intrigued, she was already swinging herself over the banister.

        “What is it?”

        “You will join, me then?”  Why did he sound so surprised?

        “Of course I will, but what is it?”  A little orb of flame flickered from his palm, illuminating excited eyes and mischievous smile.

        “Call it a surprise.”  Before she could say anything he grabbed hold of her hand. 

        The next thing she knew they were practically running through corridors of the old temple, that little orb of Phoenix flame bobbing behind them to light the way.  Every time she asked where they were going he would say only that it was a surprise and flash an excited grin that made her stomach flip and her heart stutter.  The running slowed to a brisk walk on the second floor while Joshua looked around to find his way, still retaining the eagerness of a pup off his leash.  For what?  Why had he been so nervous to ask?  Surely he would know she would follow.  Partway up their third set of stairs she suddenly realized that this, very likely, if she was right, had nothing to do with the destination.  She’d just thought her heart stuttered before.  He was doing this for her.  He was an excited pup because she was there.  She’d never seen him like this before.  Eager, yes.  Mischievous, certainly.  But he’d never held her hand so tightly nor looked at her like she was the only one in the world.  It only supported her suspicions.

            The further up the complex they went, the less ornate the walls and doors became.  He said something about less frequent use and that he was heading in the right direction.  All Jote knew was that they took every flight of stairs upward they could find.  Before she could ask once again what they were doing, he pushed open a door onto a weathered rooftop.  The surface was littered with broken stones, old markings long since weathered beyond recognition, and a few tree roots that could not survive up here.  But that was not what took her breath away.  There was absolutely nothing above them.

        “Founder…” she whispered in awe, craning to look at everything in sight.  “I have never seen so many stars.”  It was stunning.  The inky backdrop above was awash in a kaleidoscope of colors and shimmering pinpricks by the thousands.  Every splash of starlight possible must have been open to them under the new moon.

        “I had hoped this would be unobstructed.  The view from Rosalith is quite dim by comparison, is it not?  Even the marshes cannot hope to match.”

        “I did not think it possible.”  The marshes between towns and villages had an impressive view by most standards.  This was far and away something different.  So far from anything and anyone, there was simply nothing blocking the sky.  It was a world all its own. 

        “At one point I became rather enamored with astronomy hoping that some scrap of useful information might be hidden amongst the lore of constellations.  Most have some kind of story as to how they arrived in the night sky.”  He spun in a circle in the center of the old markings, presumably some kind of celestial calendar.  Finding what he sought, he pulled her close once more, leaning down to her height to direct her gaze with outstretched hand.  “Do you see those three stars trailed by another six?”  He pointed out the set of stars he spoke of, following the serpentine constellation with his finger.  “That is Leviathan.  There are a hundred ideas as to where the lost Eikon is.  In a few of them, it was lost after being unable to locate a suitable Dominant for too many generations.  Rather than continue to wander Valisthea alone, it chose to wait in the heavens until an acceptable companion might be found.  There he continues to wait to this day.

        “Over there,” he pointed to another set of stars formed into a rough diamond shape with a point at the bottom.  “Some call that the Quill, others the Eternal Scholar.  It is said that a scholar once walked the land who had an answer to every question.  But when he found he could learn no more, he turned to the future.  There he waits, or there his quill waits depending on the variation, to watch over and record the legacy of the future.”  He scanned around again to point out a pair of constellations to the north.  “And those, the ones shaped somewhat like people?  That is the Maiden and her Lord.”

        “I’ve never heard of those.”  Such a small encouragement had him smiling like she’d never seen before.  Joyful and carefree.  And directed at her to enjoy as much as she wished.  He loved knowledge, that was one of the first things she learned about him.  Nothing pleased him more than finding out something he did not know.  But this joy was different.  New.  The joy of sharing it. 

        “Theirs is a tragic tale fit for the stage.  Mayhap the North’s own Saint Sybil and Sir Crandell.”  Did she imagine the effort needed for him to turn away from her?  She could almost believe she hadn’t.  Finding a toppled piece of what was likely once a pillar, Joshua sat down with his back to it, facing the still-visible constellations.  “According to Northern traditions, the Maiden and the Lord were members of rival clans.  After a spontaneous raid, the Lord captured the Maiden intending to make her his own.  But what he found was that she was kind, noble, beautiful, and forgiving.  She never held it against him for what he did.  The winter passed and they fell in love away from the watchful eyes of the rest of his clan.  The Lord felt terrible for taking her away from the things she loved and so decided that such a pure heart deserved better than his wicked deeds.  She was returned to her clan in secret at the first sign of spring.” 

        There was an inviting space next to Joshua.  Should she take it?  Was it too close?  She didn’t dare think it might be what he wanted.  He was just so infectious like this.  Knowledge of anything and everything danced through his mind, excitedly sharing with a willing audience and picking the ones best suited for the situation.  So she gave into that attitude and sat down next to him, close enough to feel his warmth beside her, desperately schooling her heart to calm.  It sort of worked until she heard the soft gasp he tried not to let her hear when she settled.  The frantic beat in her chest refused to be calmed afterward.

        “What happened to them?” she prompted, doing her best to keep her voice natural.

        “O-oh, uh, t-tragedy,” he stumbled.  “The M-maiden had found such a kind and loving soul in the Lord that she hated the thought of her clan battling him once more.  She worked tirelessly for peace until the day the clan elders realized she’d fallen in love with their rival.  She was forced into an arranged marriage as a means of controlling her.  The Lord had much the same luck.  He put a stop to raids on the rival clan, much to the disapproval of his people.  When they discovered he had given their prize hostage back, they rebelled, overthrowing the Lord and marching on the clan themselves.  The Maiden and the Lord were reunited in the midst of battle as they both tried valiantly to stop it.  In the end they were killed in the attempt, found in the middle of the field wrapped around one another so tightly they had to be buried together for none could separate them.  Most versions say that they were each killed by their own clans, accidentally, or so they say.  Metia was smitten with their love and pure hearts, however, and in death offered them a never-ending place in her skies, side by side as they should have been in life.”

        “Do you believe the story?  Aside from the constellations and Metia.”

        “Most stories such as this have some kind of truth to them, though they are oft difficult to discern.”  As his eyes held firm to the constellations in the sky, his hand slid between them seeking out her fingers.  Out of her periphery she saw him relax just a little bit when she took the offering.

        “Then what do you think the truth of this tale might be?”

        “Hm.  I cannot say.  Rival clans are a common theme in the tales of the North, most especially early tales.  There is a rare variation, however, that always gave me pause.  In just one account of the battle, it was said that the Maiden and her Lord were about to be executed on the field by their own clans for their betrayal.  Knowing they could not escape their fate, they chose to go together.  The Maiden spun ‘round to take the lance meant for him and he lunged to greet the axe meant for her.  In their final moments, they refused to allow their deaths to be at the hands of their own people.  I have found that, at times, the truth may be found in the story less told.”  Her thumb traced idle patterns over his knuckles and she felt him shiver, a little smirk of satisfaction creeping upon her lips.

        “Do you think they found some happiness?  The Maiden and her Lord?”  Joshua watched the constellations as if they might provide him the answer.  Or perhaps to keep from shivering further from her touch.

        “If they truly did exist, I would like to think so,” he answered quietly, finally turning to look at her.

        Suddenly she realized just how close they really were, and she thought Joshua realized the same.  His fair eyes widened ever so slightly, the light of his magic that he’d forgotten to extinguish dancing across the edge of his irises.  She watched his throat bob as he swallowed.  His brow furrowed, lips pursed while he watched her.  Sometimes he made that very face at the strangest of times and Jote never was quite sure what he might be thinking in those moments.  This look of confusion mixed with a slight disassociation from his surroundings.  It often ended in a bizarre question or philosophical conjecture.  Neither did she truly mind, but sometimes she would love to know how he arrived at those. 

        “What are you thinking?” she asked in a barely audible murmur before she caught herself.  He wet his lips and swallowed heavily again.  Then shook his head ever so slightly.

        “The truth?  I’m frightened.”  That wasn’t the answer she’d expected, but she wasn’t going to back down now.

        “Of?”

        “The outcome if I answer you.  The outcome if I do not.  I stand upon the edge of an invisible line I fear to look at knowing that one way or another I must and I do not know what lies beyond it.”  His eyes never left hers and she could see the fear in them, dancing with the reflection of the flames.   It was her.  She could see it as plainly as she saw his teeth graze against the corner of his lip.  The line was right between them.  The same line they’d willfully danced around for a long time now.

        “I think this a line we can no longer ignore,” she whispered.  Daring to be bold, she leaned just a little closer to the line.  The spell that had bound them weeks ago returned tenfold, strengthened in the knowledge that not another soul was around for countless miles save the two several floors beneath them.  Joshua’s eyes flicked between her own as he caught on.  “And…I think that I do not want to.”  He nearly stopped breathing.  “What are you thinking?” she asked again.  This time he only hesitated a moment.

        “Is this wrong?” he murmured even as he leaned closer.  “I have lived my life once already.  I wish so badly to…”  It was philosophy after all.  Of course he would think of something like that.  “Am I taking advantage?”  Jote wanted to flick him for being an imbecile.  That, however, would have the wrong effect.  So instead she took up his free hand.  He barely tore his eyes away from her to watch as she leaned onto one hip toward him and placed his hand on her side.  It wasn’t an intimate touch.  It was a message.  One he quickly leaned into.

        “Your life, all of it, graced you with vast knowledge, wisdom, and intelligence.  Your mind is incredible, Joshua and it never stops amazing me, memories included.  But it is also your worst enemy.  Do not overthink this.  The life you lead is complex enough.  Allow yourself one simplicity.”  His fingers pressed into her waist.  Taking that as a good sign, she leaned just a fraction closer, stopping at the graze of his nose against hers.  She dropped her gaze to his cheek and the few freckles all but invisible from further away, hoping beyond reason he would cross that line he so feared.

        “Simplicity…” he murmured in a dazed tone of voice she was absolutely certain she could never get enough of hearing.  He leaned even closer.  “There is little that is simple about the way I feel around you.”  His words wisped across her lips leaving giddy temptation in their wake.  Temptation he gave into first.  Joshua brushed her lips with his own, a small, tentative kiss.  Then a second, equally gentle.

        Before she realized she was moving Jote found her hand resting lightly on the side of his neck.  The thundering pulse beneath her fingers felt a mirror of her own.  Her pounding heart would be horribly distracting if she weren’t so focused on the way Joshua’s lips pressed more firmly against hers.  His fingers followed, curling into her side with a pressure that made her dizzy.  Or maybe that was the giddy sensation at feeling his lips part just enough for a contented sigh to escape into the small distance between them.  He was soft and warm and everything about this was more perfect than she’d dared dream it could be, even the rocks digging into her palm still on the ground.  She wouldn’t dream of changing a thing.  Save perhaps when he stopped and drew away.

        “I do not quite know what happens now,” he admitted with the most childlike grin she’d ever seen. 

        “Shall we figure that out together?”  He nodded.

        “First I think it would be best for you to get some sleep.  Only one of us rested after dinner.”

        “You truly believe I could sleep after this?”  Despite the protest, she could feel the day creeping up on her.  Jote desperately wanted to stay here forever.  But honestly, Joshua was almost too comforting.  The sheer fact that this had actually happened, that he was so close she could lean into his kiss once more, it just made her tired.  The warmest blanket on the coldest night tempting her further.  Hesitantly he stroked her cheek, understanding smile watching her.  Then he leaned in for one more kiss.

        “May we try something?”  At her nod he twisted around to find a comfortable position, moving rocks around and away from them.  “I have never done this,” he said as he worked.  Finally he settled as best he could and tentatively held out an arm for her.  “But it seems something Clive and Jill rather enjoy and as I really only have them as a reference, I am willing to make the attempt.  If…if you would like?”

        Jote realized rather suddenly that she’d been staring in utter surprise at what he was offering.  Somewhat uncertain of what to do, she slid into his side and he wrapped his arm around her.  It took several attempts to find the position that worked for them both, partly due to the hard stone beneath them.  When they finally found it, they draped the blanket over their arms as best they could.  The stone was hard and the air cool, but Jote had never been so comfortable in her life.

        “Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered.  “I have been glad for your company during this trip.”

        “Likewise.”  She fell asleep listening to Joshua murmuring more stories about the stars while stroking his fingers through her hair.

Chapter Text

        The first thing Jill did when she woke in the morning was touch her ears.  That hadn’t been a dream.  Nothing about last night had been.  The ecstatic grin her lips twisted into made her feel like a child again.  She was going to marry him.  They’d known for a long time they would, but now that it was official, it was so much sweeter.  One day, she was going to marry Clive.  She rolled over on their borrowed bed.  Clive was already up, doing something by the fire on the other side of the room.  She could still see the red marks on his back from her nails last night.  Jill would have felt bad about it if each one hadn’t earned her some of the most incredible sounds she’d ever heard from him.  Founder, how she loved him.  She must have moved just a bit too much because he paused in his task to look over his shoulder at her. 

        “Good morning, Jill.”

        “Good morning, Clive.”

        “I thought you might like to clean up.”  He gestured in front of him and she sat up to see that he was heating enough water to do just that.  A proper bath would have been nice, but they didn’t have the supplies for that.  Just like him, doing what little he could for her.  And honestly, it was needed.

        “I should think we both need it.”  Clive chuckled in that low way of his that never failed to bring a smile to her face.

        “You know I prefer cold water anyway.”

        “I could always cool it further for you if you’d like.”  Jill wriggled her fingers at him and, while he did laugh again, he shook his head.  It was a silly thing to offer when he could do the same but she loved the thought of it.

        “I cleaned up while you were still sleeping.  Come here.  I think it’s right.”

        Clive helped her clean up with the water he carefully kept at just the right temperature for her.  He was careful to avoid a couple of small bruises they’d inadvertently created, though he thankfully didn’t try apologizing for them.  She loved each and every one.  It wasn’t necessary to help and they both knew it.  They both knew they were only delaying their morning together.  Today should thankfully be more calm, at least.  After she was clean, Clive reached up to touch one of her ear cuffs.  The unbridled happiness in his eyes showcased his seeming youth. 

        “Should we tell them?”  Jill asked the question knowing they would never be able to keep it a secret for long.

        “If it’s alright with you, I would very much like to tell Joshua myself.”

        “Did he know about these?” she asked, fingering the jewelry.

        “I said nothing of it, no, but you know Joshua.  He has a tendency to already know things you meant to keep a secret.”  Jill giggled at the truth of that statement.  Came with having a functional spy organization reporting directly to him, she imagined. 

        “I will try to ensure you have the time alone for that today if you’d like.”

        “I would appreciate it.   We still need to weasel out of him what exactly happened yesterday, too.”  In the excitement of last night she’d nearly forgotten about that business with the Phoenix.  Suddenly their day seemed a bit more full than it had a few minutes ago.

        “Then we’d best get moving.”

        Much to Clive’s displeasure, she forced him to keep his back to her while they got dressed.  He tossed several complaints about it over his shoulder while affixing his own armor but he never turned.  Which was good for Jill if this surprise of hers turned out anything like she hoped it would.  She would never tire of Clive’s stare when she turned up wearing something he wasn’t expecting.  Every time she could pinpoint the moment his mind completely stopped and the moment it started again.  Hopefully this gift from Ysay would do the same thing.  It looked about the right size and, to her pleasure, it was.  There were one or two places she may be able to adjust it better, but it wasn’t important at the moment.  There were no mirrors here, so Clive really would be the ultimate test.

        “Alright.  You may turn around now.”

        “Finally.  I do not see—”  The sentence never finished in his mind let alone his voice.  The instant he laid eyes on her, his mouth fell open, looking her up and down several times over.  That, she would have to say, was a success.  Jill was happy to let him ogle perhaps a bit longer than necessary before softly chuckling behind a hand.  The sound and motion set his mind to functioning once more with a visible jump and he blinked several times, cheeks reddening at the reaction.

        “I will take that as a positive, then,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his middle.

        “One of many things which could be said, yes.  Is that what you brought back with you yesterday?”

        “It is.”  She stepped back once more, holding her hands out and spinning in a slow circle.  “What do you think?  Do I look a Keeper of Shiva?”

        “By the flames, Jill.  Shiva should be jealous of you.”  His eyes scanned her up and down once more in awe.  The way he reached for her felt like a dream, slowly and deliberately pulling her into him.  “Just when I think you cannot look more beautiful you surprise me once again.”  He kissed her sweetly, holding her even closer.  “Do you know what I was thinking of this morning?”

        “What?”

        “The night before we left for Origin.”  A nauseating feeling instantly settled in her stomach.  “I told you that it was alright to stay behind, remember?  That you would be my beacon back home.”

        “And I told you that you must make haste for a beacon is naught without its flame.”  That had been the start of her pet name for him, one she’d used only twice before their prior lives ended.  Yet it never ceased to mean something to her.  “Yesterday you were my beacon.”

        “I hate that you went through that and did so alone.  Would that I could have done more.”  Jill put her fingers to his lips.  He would blame himself for that pain like he always did. 

        “You did exactly what I needed.  I had to show myself that I could do what you did.  That I could pick myself up and move forward.  I would have forever questioned my own ability had you been there to do it for me.  So thank you for being my beacon this time.”  His expression softened with her words and he kissed her fingertips before moving them back down to his chest.

        “I pray I will never need do so again.”  He pulled her in for another languid kiss, the kind that said he didn’t want to let her out of his sight any more than he had to today.  Fortunately for him, she had much the same thought.  Until a knock on the door interrupted them.

        “At the risk of things I wish to know naught of,” came Joshua’s nervous voice, “breakfast is nearly ready if the two of you intend to leave the room at some point today.”  Clive rolled his eyes at her and opened the door.  “Thank the Founder,” Joshua breathed in a rush.  “Good morning.  I hope I’ve interrupted nothing.”

        “You didn’t,” Jill soothed him.  She squeezed Clive’s hand lightly as a message, amused by the small nervous twitch in Joshua’s movements. 

        “Good.  There is much of the complex to explore.  Best get an early start with it.”  Then his gaze fell fully on Jill, looking her up and down.  “That looks lovely on you, Jill.  I do not recall seeing you wear such a thing.  Is it new?”

        “Left for me in the depths.  A gift passed down from a former Dominant.  Did you know the North once called Shiva’s Dominant her Keeper?”

        “I’ve seen the word once or twice, now that you mention it.  I was never certain if it was a translation error or something actually in use.  Interesting.  They must have had more reverence for the Eikon than I’d expected.  Perhaps on par with Rosaria or Sanbreque.  I should make more of an effort to speak with those left of the Northern Territories.  My knowledge of them is far too lean.”

        “Luckily you have an entire temple to find answers,” she said.  “Clive, why don’t you speak to Joshua now?  Before he goes off to find the hidden mysteries of my people?” 

        “Are you sure?”  Joshua’s look turned from pensive consideration to confusion and dread in the span of a heartbeat.

        “I’m sure.”  Leaning up, she kissed Clive on the cheek, then smiled at Joshua and walked down the hallway towards breakfast.  Clive wouldn’t want to leave her side just yet, but this was for the best.  Now they could spend the rest of the day together without interruption.

        “What, pray tell, is Jill giving us the space to discuss?” Joshua asked as soon as Jill rounded the corner.  Clive hadn’t thought he would be doing this first thing, not that it mattered greatly when he did it beyond the fact that Jill had left him earlier than he’d prefer. 

        “There was something I wished to speak to you about, just us.”

        “Oh?”  Joshua leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his arms across his chest and one ankle resting on the other, waiting.  Clive took a deep breath, opting for the direct approach.

        “Jill and I were talking last night about her trip down into the ruin.  I do not know how much she wishes to delve into it, but it led to a rather different kind of conversation.  I wanted you to be the first to know.  We decided to make an official engagement last night.  I gave her a pair of ear cuffs like ours, though I admit at the time I’d not considered if that might seem strange to you.  It was simply the only thing always mine and—”  He didn’t see Joshua move.  His brother’s arms were around him so fast he may well have Shifted across the space.

        “Finally,” he breathed, a small exhale hitting Clive in the shoulder.  Joshua embraced him tightly.  Clive wasted only a moment of surprise before returning it.  “I am so happy for you, Brother.”  He backed away, staying close enough to place a hand on each side of Clive’s head.  “Truly, this is wonderful.”  The glistening of Joshua’s eyes seemed to be rather infectious and all Clive could think to do in that moment was pull him back in for another hug.  “I am going to get to see my brother and my dearest friend finally share their lives fully and I gain a true sister.  I never thought I’d see the day.” 

        “We haven’t waited so long as that,” Clive protested.  Joshua backed up again shaking his head.

        “It is not only that, Brother.  It is everything.  I remember getting reports of you and of Jill from the Undying and hoping beyond reason you would finally find one another in such a way.  You never did.  I had nigh on resigned myself to it never happening.”

        “Joshua, you were there when we did.  We were the only thing the hideaway seemed to be able to speak of for a week!”  He couldn’t help grumbling that part.  It was so incredibly awkward to see the constant smiles of joy people shot their direction anytime he and Jill were close.  Seeing them happy was a blessing, but did it have to be about him?

        “Yes, but we all knew what time we had left could be so limited.  By the time it came about, I feared there would be far too little of it left for you.  So many years apart would not be made right in mere months.”  He wiped an eye rather furiously.  “Forgive me.  I hadn’t thought this news would strike me in such a way.  I never dared hope you could find such happiness even here.”  A huffed laugh accompanied a hand on his chest.  A fluttering that Clive also felt.  Now that he knew what it was, he could think it felt happy.  “We know, we know.” 

        “I’m still not sure how I feel about this communication,” he commented, hand over his own chest. 

        “I think him merely overly excited after yesterday.”  Joshua returned to his spot along the wall, fingering the cuff on his ear.  “As to your other question of offering, I find it appropriate to give her such a thing presuming it is not strange to you if I continue wearing my own.  Father gave us these as children.  Mine was lost to me in the aftermath of Phoenix Gate and in truth I mourned that loss as much as I mourned everything else for it was all I had left of him.  It has been a gift to keep these last years.  In old Northern tradition, when members of warring clans were traded for peace, it was customary to gift them a symbol of their new clan when entering into a marriage, be it a shared symbol, crest, color, or other some such item.  Jill has ever been a part of our house and yet not.  I think it time she bore something of that acceptance in her own tradition.  As a means of engagement it is the best possible way that could be done in my mind.”  Since Clive knew little of Northern traditions, he’d never considered it in such a way.  It would have been nice if he could say that this was the plan all along.  Leave it to Joshua to find more meaning than intended.

        “You could have simply said you didn’t mind, you know?” he said with a smirk. 

        “And where would be the fun in that?” his brother laughed.  “Now come, I believe I have a sister to greet.”

        “I hardly think it counts when you have been calling her such for years.”  Tease him though he may, it warmed Clive’s heart more than he could express to see just how happy his brother was to know that Jill would be his sister in law as well as name.  “Do you and Jote intend to explore this place all day?” he asked as they walked.

        “I-I do not know,” Joshua stammered for some reason.  “I intend to get absolutely lost in this place.  I think even Jote is like to have her fill of my searching eventually.”

        “If that is your goal, be sure to make some kind of map or trail back to familiar rooms.  This place is so large we shall never find you.”  Just the thought of that search…  Even as a child Joshua was far too adept at hiding when he’d a mind to and on more than one occasion, Clive spent hours trying to find him only to find him someplace he never should have been waiting patiently to proudly show off his accomplishment.

        “This is far from my first temple, ruin, or abandoned settlement.  You forget I made rather a run of it for some years.”

        “And how many did you become hopelessly lost in?”

        “You do recall it was I that led us to the Fallen door yesterday, do you not?  Rather expertly, if I may say.”  Clive glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

        “That sounds like avoidance if ever I heard it.”  It began as a joke, but now he really wanted to know.  If Joshua was avoiding the answer, there must actually be an answer.

        “Perish the thought.  I have always had a way with buildings.”

        “You know now that you mention it, I do seem to recall you getting absolutely lost at every turn in Oriflamme when we were there for the Remembrance Ceremony.”

        “That was different,” Joshua insisted with raised finger.  “That place is the furthest from logic a building can be.”

        “Hm.  You may be right on that count.  It is Sanbreque, after all.” 

        The pair of them walked into their unofficial campsite laughing at the quip.  The instant Joshua saw Jill, he ran to her and hugged her as tightly as he had Clive.  They murmured words to each other Clive didn’t hear.  Jote also had a small smile on her face watching it and Clive assumed Jill had told her the news.  A brief thought crossed his mind wondering if this might be their family now, the four of them.  Clive, Joshua, and Jill had always been together.  Even if they weren’t, they were never far from each other’s thoughts.  It felt strange to add a fourth, yet Jote seemed to fit in so easily with them he could see it.  He pushed the thought from mind.  If Joshua ever managed to figure out his own mind on that count, this was something not likely to be talked about anytime soon. 

        They all sat down for breakfast, surprised to learn Joshua had done most of the work.  Jote had only kept an eye on things while he went to find Clive and Jill.  And that he’d done because he quite literally drew the short straw.  Clive felt his cheeks heat at that, knowing they’d suspected something enough to draw straws for it.  The knowledge that they were right in that assumption only made it worse.  Luckily talk didn’t stay on the subject for long.  Which was good considering Jill was about to choke herself on her porridge if she ate any faster in a vain attempt to look innocent.  It was one of her most adorable features, if he was honest.  With anyone else, she was an excellent actress.  But with them, she absolutely was completely incapable of actually looking innocent when she thought she was doing just that. 

        Now that they had all had the night to collect themselves from the adventures below, talk turned to just what had happened.  Jill gave a shortened version of her encounter, Joshua seeming to understand that she didn’t want to talk about all of it.  It was rather personal, she said, and neither he nor Jote took offense.  Jill did, however, show him the letter, which he was fascinated with.  It was such a small account of the collapse of a Mothercrystal, but it was the only one known in the Twins.  A monumental find, he declared, and vowed to copy the historically relevant parts into his notes that evening.  That just left his conversation with the Phoenix.  Clive guessed some of it was also a bit personal judging by the way Joshua shifted nervously when talk circled around to it.  He had to admit he was curious, but he wanted to respect his brother’s boundaries as much as he could.

        “I learned a few things of note which he’d meant to inform us of had we ever returned to the Apodytery.  I can now confirm that the Phoenix and Ifrit are twins and that this is the first time Ifrit has had a Dominant.  Apparently together they were too powerful upon their creation and so Ultima split them.”

        “That does not surprise me,” Clive commented.  “Ifrit is indeed a handful.”  He’d be surprised if there’d been another with the resistance to handle him.

        “This goes a long way to explaining the merged Eikon as well.” 

        “It would also explain the silent conversations,” Jill muttered.  Jote poorly hid a laugh at the jab.  Considering their feat from yesterday, that was an understatement.  Although it did make him wonder if he could speak to others while fully semi-primed.  He spoke to Jill and she’d heard him, true, but could she reply with a more stable connection?

        After that they spoke of Ifrit for a while longer.  His kinship, their inexplicable ability, the fact Ifrit was not sentient, but not completely without feeling either.  That part made Clive very nervous for a few moments.  Having the Phoenix fluttering away in his chest was strange enough.  The last thing he needed was two Eikons making their presence known.  Not to mention what that could potentially mean for all the others he also carried.  While he wouldn’t deny even Eikons free will if that was something they could want, he didn’t particularly want them all chattering away at once within his own mind.  Joshua was also able to confirm that Dion was returned as well.  That did not come as a surprise given what they already knew.  If he’d left Oriflamme when they thought he did, there was a good probability of him arriving in Rosalith around the time they returned.  Perhaps just slightly before.  Assuming that was where he would be bound, of course.  Joshua was adamant it would be. 

        “The last thing I learned…  It came as quite a shock that I confess I am still grappling with.  I suggest you put your bowls down for this news.”  Clive’s stomach immediately flipped fearing the worst.  “We have often wondered at the change in appearance when we semi-prime.  I had not thought to ask Cid if there had been a change for him or if it were even noticeable.  In truth it is not so readily noticeable for any of us now aside from Clive’s scar and the clothing we wear.  It would seem that when we were brought back, it was with the aether of the Nexus.  Our future selves are, in essence, constructs of aether wrapped into the natural aether of our younger bodies.  Which is the same way that our Eikons reside within us.”  Joshua looked first at Jill and then at Clive from under his brow.  “We are now something akin to an Eikon ourselves.”  Jill hadn’t heeded his warning about putting the bowl down completely and in the silence left by the statement it clattered loudly to the ground.  Jote, apparently thinking she need not worry about such warnings under the circumstances, choked on the sip of tea she’d been taking.  And Clive?  Clive slowly and shakily looked down at his own hand like it might suddenly become a monster that could bite him.  He really, really didn’t need more titles, names, or statuses that set him apart.  He had far too much of that in his life to now be told he himself was something like an Eikon too. 

        “I am so tired of being something more,” he murmured.  Out of nowhere Jill’s hands clasped the one he was staring at, forcing him to look up into her calming grey eyes.  She gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed, saying nothing but not really needing to.  He took a deep breath and tried to recenter himself.

        “I was shocked myself,” Joshua said.  In the span of that information running its course, he’d moved closer to Jote and was now rubbing a hand up and down her back to help with the aftershocks of her cough.  “Try not to fret over it too much, Brother.  I think it means little in reality.  Merely an explanation.  The only thing the Phoenix told me of was that it would grant the five of us some extra resistance to the curse.  Much like an immunity to illness you’ve had before.  I am certain it can still show, but we would need go further than we once did to reach that point.  I suspect this may mean you truly are immune now, or as immune as can be.  Apparently it also cured the very minor spots Cid had already begun developing before this happened.”  That was an enormous relief in so many ways and easily the most valuable thing to come of the entire conversation.  He really could worry just slightly less about the curse for them.  He didn’t need to squelch anxious nerves every time he saw their magic.  Clive exhaled slowly, letting himself try to adapt to all this information, both alarming and comforting.

        “Is that all, then?” Jill asked in his place.

        “All that is relevant to others, yes.”  There was that hint of something more again.  Clive really didn’t want to press him.  He hadn’t given him reason to worry.  Then again, Joshua also hadn’t mentioned Ultima’s prison until forced either.

        “I will not press you, Brother,” he reluctantly said, “but there was nothing of worry, was there?”  Joshua waved a hand dismissively.

        “Hardly.  We spoke of other things, yes, but it was nothing of real note.”  His tone was enough to convince Clive that, at the least, it wasn’t worrying and so he nodded and left it alone. 

        Not long after they took care of their dishes and went their separate ways into the temple with the intent of meeting back there in the evening for dinner.  Clive was content to let Jill lead wherever she chose to go.  She had nothing specific she wanted to find; just look around to see what they might come across.  It put him ever so slightly on edge, exploring this place, because it was empty.  Never had he looked through a place like this without enemies around every corner.  For the first hour he kept expecting to see something in every room.  Old reflexes or not, they did not want to ease their grip on him. 

        “Clive, I understand but we’ve seen nothing larger than a woodpecker in these woods and mice in this ruin.  I think you could stand down.”  Clive scoffed in Jill’s direction where she looked over a tapestry partially eaten by mice.

        “Was I so obvious?”  After a brief pause Jill’s arms circled his waist from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. 

        “You look tense enough to leap to the second floor without stairs.”

        “I’m sorry.  Places like this always seem to be hiding some threat we were not expecting.  I will try to relax.”

        “I would prefer you be a bit calmer for your own sake, true.  But if it makes you feel better, keep the watch all you like.”  She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. 

        “No.  I’ve paid little enough attention to you in this exploration thus far.  Show me what you found.”

        It got a bit easier after that to pay more attention to Jill and her little discoveries.  The tapestry, pretty as it was, didn’t mean anything specific that they knew of and so they chose to leave it in its place on the wall.  They found a dining hall with tarnished plates and cutlery lying around in various places on tables and on shelves lining the room.  The quality of it made him think this was likely for staff and not for the visitors to this place.  Just off from that was a quite dilapidated kitchen.  A giant tree had taken root outside the corner of it and the roots had toppled many of the stones inward.  When the tree got bigger, it would take out the entire kitchen.  If the Blight hadn’t taken the place by then.  He’d almost forgotten how close it was. 

        They’d wandered for hours when they came across a room that gave Jill pause.  There was little special about the room at first glance.  Much longer across than it was in depth, there was little decoration or furniture.  Clive would have thought it a storeroom if Jill hadn’t stopped.  She saw the lists of names before he did.  The walls were covered with names and lineages of the various clans.  Jill traced a few of them with her fingertips and he pulled his light closer so she could read them better.  The first clan had only a couple names, though he did recognize the clan name: Ridgeway.

        “I remember a room like this when I was little,” Jill said softly, wonder coloring her voice.  “My father used to bring me into this little space and speak of names and events I was never old enough to remember.”

        “What is it?”  He looked at another list of names, this one he didn’t know.

        “Blood relatives of a Dominant of Shiva.  This is far more comprehensive than what I remember.”

        “Was that merely your clan’s?”

        “That would be my guess.”  They scanned names and clans for a few more minutes.  Clive was the first one to catch the clan name of the back wall, a clan with far more Dominants than any of the others.

        “Jill?  You should see this.”  At the top in expertly chiseled letters were two words.

        “Clan Warrick.”

        “It seems your clan has a close relationship with Shiva.”  There were easily three times more Dominants from Clan Warrick than the others, each of their names written into the stone and inlayed with blue glass that sparkled in the firelight.  “Harpocrates spoke of something like this a few times.  What was the name?  Those with ancestry to older tribes around Valisthea.”

        “Motes, I believe.  Which would make Clan Warrick heavily descended from the Motes of Ice.  I never realized.”  Jill recognized several more of these names from her childhood.  But her fingers paused over one name in particular.  “Ysay.”

        “Wasn’t that who left you the note?”  She nodded. 

        “She’d said her clan and little more.  It seems she was my grandmother’s sister.”

        “All the more fitting, then.”  She traced the name twice more, then her fingers slid down to what would have been the next generation if the line was completed.  This place must have been abandoned before they could do so.

        “I can barely remember anything about them.  My father is little more than a blurry image in my mind.  I know he smelled of pine and cedar and braided his beard.  I remember only that my mother was kind and soft-spoken.  She was gone within the year of my leaving.  Yet I can remember my father bringing me to a hall like this with our ancestry clearly painted upon the walls, telling me in a soft voice that his snowflake would take her place there one day.  I’ve wondered if he might not have known or had a suspicion.  What might have changed if I had awoken before leaving?  It would not have been unheard of.  Joshua and Dion both were known as children.” 

        Of all the emotions that could have gripped his heart at that thought, he hadn’t expected terror.  He had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what would have happened.  Peace never would have been sought.  His two most loved people in the world would have been the ones continuing that fight.  And he knew that because he knew something Jill didn’t, or didn’t remember from lessons.  The Phoenix prior to Joshua, their grandfather, had fought Shiva for a while.  Then she disappeared suddenly just after their grandfather died.  If they’d found her new Dominant, they would have put her through the same.  Jill never would have come to Rosalith.  They’d never have known each other.  She’d have died either of the curse or from…from Joshua.  Clive thought he would be sick at the thought and just barely managed to keep it from her.  It was a good thing her back was turned, still examining the wall. 

        “Take your time, Jill.  I’m going to get some air.  This space is getting a little uncomfortable for my liking.”  She lightly hummed an agreement and he walked out into the hallway.

        Near that room of lineages was a convenient window that he was able to open and situate himself into the ledge.  A few years’ difference.  If she’d been found out just a few years earlier, nothing of their childhood would have been the same and he could not imagine it would be a good thing.  He’d learned as a child of the Phoenix’s battles against Shiva, but Jill wasn’t Shiva at the time.  When she was, those history lessons were the furthest thing from his mind.  He’d never considered it.  For whatever reason his mind saw fit to torment him with the realization, pouring image after image of imagined tragedies involving Joshua and Jill, of Clive himself considering her an enemy.  Jill, the woman he loved more than life itself, the woman he’d proposed to just last night.  An enemy known as Shiva.  He knew if he didn’t stop himself he might well end up retching into the grass outside.  Through sheer force of will he dragged the feeling of Joshua hugging him as tightly as he could just a few hours ago into his mind.  He forced himself to remember how happy he’d been that Jill would be an official part of their family now.  Then it was easier to think of Jill’s excitement last night.  How she’d begun that proposal herself.  They were here and they were fine. 

        Clive didn’t know how long he sat in that window forcing those vile thoughts out of his mind.  Bit by bit the sickness faded.  When Jill was ready to move on, she didn’t seem to notice that anything had been wrong and Clive was all too happy to leave it at that.  She didn’t need to think about any of that right now, or ever if he could help it.  She just needed to see what this place was like and dig up as many memories as she wanted.  And if he was a little more insistent on taking her hand afterward, well, he rather doubted she’d find a problem with that.

        “What do you think might be found in this direction?”  Joshua glanced over at Jote, still surprised that she’d decided to come with him in this venture.  He shouldn’t have been, he supposed.  She was as curious as he.  Why wouldn’t she come along?  Some part of him kept expecting her to tell him everything on the rooftop last night had been a mistake or a dream, he supposed.

        “A library if we are fortunate.”  It was easy to ignore those self-conscious uncertainties when she smiled at him, though.

        “A library with legible and intact books if we are very fortunate.”

        “Right you are.”  So far they’d found little of real academic importance.  Instead the joy of their exploration thus far had come from watching her.  She gravitated to murals and carvings wherever they might be.  Each one she took the time to really appreciate before they moved on.  It was wonderful to see her enjoying such a thing.  This was her first ruin after all. 

        “There is one small problem with a library,” she commented with an obviously forced frown. 

        “What might that be?”  They pushed open a large set of doors leading into what appeared to be a clan reception room.

        “I think you have no space left to take books back with you.”  The frown turned to a teasing grin and Joshua barked a laugh.

        “I will find a way, I assure you!”

        “Lest you forget, it was I who packed that bag to contain the frankly outrageous amount that it does.  You cannot fool me!” 

        “There are a few things I could do without on our return trip.”

        “If I know you half so well as I believe I do, none of those things would be the extra books and papers.  Which would man, what, rations?  Your blanket?”  She cocked a judgmental brow at him, lip twitching with amusement.

        “I am certain I can make do without a blanket if the need is pressing.”

        “I would be very entertained to see just how you manage this.  Before you ask, no, you are not taking any space in my pack.” 

        “Even if I ask very nicely?”

        “That would need to be quite the request.”  Taking the challenge to heart, Joshua took hold of her arm, pulled her to him, and boldly kissed her before he could rethink what he was doing.  Her tense surprise quickly melted as she kissed him back, warming his cheeks as he pull away.

        “Were it important, might I please place a book or two in your bag for the journey home?”  He still held a hand to her cheek hoping she would be alright with this.  Finding the lines of this budding relationship he hoped they were developing was something a few hours sleeping atop the roof would not answer.  After a moment, Jote opened her eyes, looking up at him softly.

        “I suppose I could make room for one or two if you ask nicely.” 

        “I will keep that in mind.”  He stepped away from her and they continued their walk.  He’d grown increasingly attached to the woman at his side by the day.  There was little hope of stopping it once he realized the wall had never existed and he allowed himself to see this for what it truly was.  At first he thought he needed time.  It took only days to realize that what he felt for her was buried deep within him already, merely waiting for the chance to be set free.  Still, he was painfully new to this.  “I hope that was not too forward of me.”

        “A surprise, but no.  This is something quite different for us both.  Trust me to tell you if you are too bold and I will trust you to do the same.”

        The end of the hall didn’t lead to a library, sadly for them both.  Joshua was rather confused by it, in truth.  There was little to this room at all yet the highly adorned path here suggested something of interest.  It didn’t need to be a library specifically, but it shouldn’t have been such an empty room.  The remnants of a few baskets were scattered around and the slats of what was once a box in the corner.  Other than that there was only dust.

        “Did you not say this should be something a little more interesting?” Jote teased. 

        “If it had followed normal convention, yes.  I am equally confused and intrigued by it.”  Looking around the room, he could see flecks of paint barely clinging to the walls.  Little was left of it, which in itself was interesting.  Most of the walls in this place were carved or some sort of mosaic.  This was the first he saw of paint.  He grimaced with the annoyance that there was not enough left to tell him anything of use.

        “Joshua.  Perhaps this contains an answer?”  Jote moved a rug on the floor to reveal a trapdoor that had certainly seen better days.

        “That seems out of place.  There is no telling what could be down there.”  Did they risk it without Clive and Jill knowing?  Any number of dangers could be hidden there.  Or any number of other things. 

        “Shall we find out?” 

        “Let me go first as a precaution.”  Jote allowed it, much to Joshua’s pleasure.  She never, under any circumstances, would have allowed that long ago.

        A wave of stagnant, fetid air assaulted them both as soon as the seal on the door was breached.  Joshua guided his flame down into the hole to check it out.  A ladder was carved into the stone leading far down into the darkness.  At the bottom was a tunnel further into something which blocked his view.  He looked up at Jote with an unspoken question and she agreed, so down the ladder he went.  The bottom was dry and dusty, much like the nearby Blight.  He had to duck to continue down the tunnel.  The stonework was primitive compared to what was above them.  Very primitive, in comparison, if functional.  Jote got to the bottom of the ladder and he turned to help her down.

        “What is this?”

        “I’ve no idea.  At a guess, this may be something older than the rest of the complex.  Much older.  Here.”  He positioned a second orb of flame over her shoulder.  It would be somewhat limited since she could not move it herself, but better than nothing.  With both of them having their own lights, they started picking their way through the tunnel. 

        Jote didn’t have to bend nearly as much as Joshua did.  Within minutes his muscles were protesting at the posture and the tunnel continued onward still.  He’d begun to think they were traversing some irrigation path or sluice of some sort and there was nothing at the end.  That was a real possibility when exploring like this; sometimes a hidden space truly was nothing.  He was about to suggest they turn back when the stone above him was suddenly missing, his light shining on a large open space.  A dozen or so smaller alcoves lined the room.  At the end, standing watch over it all, was a large statue with eyes of sapphire which seemed to bore into them in the reflection of their light.

        “Who is that?” Jote asked quietly.  There was something strange about this space, like it wasn’t meant for sound.

        “I think it is a stylized depiction of Shiva.”  Elements of the Eikon were there.  A crown he’d seen before and a cape hanging from the shoulders.  The clothing seemed a bit more scant than the real thing.  Her arms were outstretched towards the entryway, but Joshua had no doubts that it was not a welcome.

        “Is that what Shiva looks like?”

        “Not quite.  Similar enough to recognize.  What she is doing here is the question.”  In the span of that statement Jote walked over to one of the alcoves, her light illuminating the answer.

        “Because of them.”  Flickering flame shone down on a mummified body lying on a stone slab.  The next alcove was the same as was the next and the next.  Eight mummified bodies.  Beside each slab was a vase with the stems of long-dead flowers in them, somewhat preserved in this dry air.

        “They’re all women.”

        “Dominants of Shiva?”

        “I think they might be.”

        “Then that empty room upstairs.  Could it have been for offerings?”

        “That makes as much sense as anything.”  Then his light fell on something else in the other alcoves.  Piles of bones lying in a heap where a body fell.  “By the flames.”  Jote crossed to him, also looking at the bones.

        “They aren’t mummified.”

        “No.  I suspect these were meant to be servants for the Dominants in the afterlife.  Which would make this a very ancient tomb.  That is not a belief held by any modern affiliations in Valisthea.  Not to mention the already ancient temple atop this.”  The longer they remained here, the more uncomfortable he got.  It felt like that statue was watching their every step to the point he feared turning around.  He knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him.  There was nothing down here that could do harm.  Maybe it was the air, maybe it was the dark, maybe it was the cramped space they’d crawled through.  He didn’t have a real explanation.  All he knew was he wanted out of here.

        “We shouldn’t disturb them any longer.”  Joshua couldn’t agree more, eagerly turning to leave.  They crawled back through the tunnel and climbed the ladder, replacing both trapdoor and rug.  “I was not expecting a tomb down there.”

        “Nor I.  To think the ancient inhabitants of this regions entombed their deceased Dominants with servants…  That is not a common tradition in the Twins and it certainly has not been postulated here that I have seen.”  Jote nodded gravely looking at the rug.

        “Shall we see what else we can find?  I think that place will stay with me for quite some time should I wish to record what we saw.”

        Joshua followed her out of the room, an odd realization crossing his mind as he did.  They had discovered something neither of them knew.  It wasn’t about Ultima or crystals or Clive.  The world did not hinge upon nor change from it.  It was only a newfound piece of information interesting only to scholars and Northerners.  Jote was just as fearless descending into an unknown cavern purely for curiosity as she was facing a Giant with them all.  She stopped, noticing he hadn’t followed, and he jogged to catch up, shaking his head at the cant of her head.  It was just one more thing he was starting to find irresistible about her.

Elswewhere…

   Eastpool, Grand Duchy of Rosaria

        Rodney’s skin itched.  It happened every time he spent long periods in Eastpool with Hanna and kept his armor in the house.  Everyone here knew he was Lord Commander; he didn’t need his armor to announce it.  Plus it was usually a safe enough village he didn’t need to worry about that kind of danger.  But going long periods without it made him feel exposed, uptight, and jumpy.  Hanna chided him every time she caught him rubbing his neck or arm or adjusting his belt incessantly because the weight of his sword was absent. 

        “You need to take more time for yourself, Rodney,” she would say.  “You would adjust if you were but home more often.”  She was probably right.  As always.

        A hundred places around the Duchy to ensure all was well after the edict had gone into effect and Elwin had made sure Rodney could oversee Eastpool personally.  He counted himself lucky, even with the discomfort of leaving his armor off.  And Hanna was quite pleased to “get him mostly to herself” for a while.  Things had proven pretty quiet, thank the Founder.  There had been a few tussles in the last week.  Or had it been two?  The days were beginning to run together.  One fight he’d broken up himself.  Another was mediated by a bystander before anyone could get to Rodney.  The past couple days had seemed peaceful enough that he was considering returning to Rosalith, or at the least checking in.  He hadn’t told Hanna about that yet.  She would understand, she always did.  Truly he didn’t think he deserved her most of the time.  If only he could convince her to spend more time in Rosalith… 

        Or convince myself to heed her advice, he thought knowing full well he wouldn’t even try.  He was too old and too set in his ways now.  He got up from his desk where paperwork he’d needed to catch up on was finally thinning and poured himself some water.  Outside his window he watched some of the village children playing with a ball.  A couple of them were former Bearers. 

        “The children distracting you, bee?” Hanna asked, sidling into his side.

        “Only in a good way.  I’ve been supportive of Elwin’s eccentricities since we were young and I support the boys as I can.  They were so confident in this working yet as I stand here watching it before my very eyes, I can scarcely believe it.  This mad idea is truly working.”  Now if they could do something about the Blight in the Dim.  He knew they still had a few years before it became a real problem, but he’d still hoped that perhaps there was something to be done about it.  Alas, for all their knowledge, that seemed beyond Clive and Joshua’s capabilities.

        “You know I rarely see crystals of late?  That, too, seems to be working.  Never had I thought to see the day.”

        “To watch this, I am not certain Eastpool needed me here as much as I’d feared.  Which is a relief, make no mistake.”  Hanna nudged him with her elbow.

        “Eastpool may have fared just fine without you, but I will never be ungrateful for having my husband at home for so long.”  Hanna was happy and he knew it, but the statement still made him feel guilty for leaving her alone as often as he did.  He’d begun thinking of leaving the title of Lord Commander behind him for Clive to take.  Then again, he knew what would soon face him.  And he knew that he couldn’t leave them all wanting in the days to come.  One day, when Joshua was Archduke, then he would make the choice.  He could stand down knowing that Rosaria was in the best hands it could be. 

        “My lord!”  Furious pounding on the door accompanied the call.

        “Not again,” he muttered, grabbing his sword and running to the door with Hanna just behind.  When he opened it, a terrified former Bearer stood on the other side with her hand half raised to continue pounding.  “Celeste?  What is it?”

        “My lord!  There’s goblins at the gate into the Dim!”

        “Goblins?”  Rodney started running.  He knew Hanna would calm Celeste down.

        Eastpool, being safe enough usually, only had one or two fighters among the population.  Hunters, really, more than fighters.  And he knew both of those men were currently out of the village at the moment.  He thought about getting aid from whomever he saw, but they would only get hurt.  No, this would be better done on his own it would seem.  It was only goblins.  He should be able to handle them.  The gate was sturdy enough for most things.  Goblins, however, were known to be better climbers than most creatures.  They could certainly get in with a desire.  The bigger question was where had they come from?  They’d never seen goblins here.

        He threw his weight against the gate, wishing he had his armor on more fervently now.  Before him were several goblins.  But something was off about them.  As he blocked a swing he realized what it was.  Their weapons.  Rather than the crude weapons goblins always carried, these wielded pieces of Fallen ceramic cobbled together into functional weaponry.  There wasn’t time to think about it in any real depth, only to think that he should dodge more than block if he could.  Fallen ceramic was nothing if not solid.  He sidestepped another strike, twisted, and struck, his sword sinking deeply into the creature. 

        Luckily that sent some of them running off back into the Dim leaving only two for him to contend with.  Of the two left, one managed to get a lucky strike against his thigh while he was fending off the other.  Before he could turn again, a strong gust of wind streaked past him quickly followed by another.  The wind was strong enough to knock both goblins off their feet and, wasting no time pondering the gift, Rodney sank his sword into each of them in turn.  When he turned around he was surprised to see Celeste, quivering hand outstretched and eyes blown wide.

        “I…I…I…”  Ignoring the stinging throb in his leg he limped over to her, sheathing his sword as he went.  He then took her hand gently and lowered it as he spoke.

        “Thank you, Celeste.”  She started, tearing her eyes away from the goblins she’d helped kill.

        “I only wanted to help, my lord,” she said in a small voice.

        “And help you did.”  He gave her a reassuring smile, gritting his teeth when his leg twinged again.  Her quivering slowed to a stop.

        “I’ve never used my magic because I wanted to.  I…I helped.”  She smiled, tears forming in her eyes.  “I helped!  Because I wanted to!”  He meant to reassure her that this was her life now, but Hanna came running through the gate, cutting off his words.

        “Rodney!”  Taking one look at his leg she grabbed his arm and slung it around her shoulders to usher him inside.

        “I am not so bad as that, Hanna.”

        “And I am inclined to keep it that way!  Celeste, could you pull the gate, dear?”  Rodney didn’t hear a reply but he did hear the sound of the gate moving.  “She could have helped you through,” Hanna muttered.

        “She was in shock.  I know you worry, dove, but do not place your frustration on Celeste.  She’s just used her magic of her own accord for the first time and it was in my defense.”

        “I know.  You are right as ever, bee.  She did well, running after you when I’d assumed there was naught we could do.  I’d thought she’d run off to find someone else, though, rather than do the deed herself.  She has quite the backbone.”

        As they slowly made their way into the village, Celeste trailing behind them, others began to realize something serious had happened and came to see just what.  One of the men took Hanna’s place for Rodney to lean on further, which he was not complaining about.  It freed up his concentration from walking and not crushing Hanna to be able to give a few orders.  Clean up the remains outside the gate in a group with a watch in case the others came back.  Locate the hunters if possible and send them to Rodney.  He picked one of the lads that helped in the trader’s stores to follow him to write a message to Rosalith while he was getting his leg patched up. 

        Just as he had one foot on the stairs of the house, though, the ground began to shake violently.  Already off balance, Rodney fell, scraping his palm against the stone.  The tremor was enough to knock several others off balance as well.  Dishes crashed to the floor from shelves and tables inside every building.  The animals one and all ran every which direction in a cacophony of noise at the assault from the ground.  Rodney had never felt anything like it.  For a brief moment he wondered if Titan had chosen this opportunity to arrive in Rosaria.  But as the tremors dissipated, he looked up onto the rise above the village.  Far, far in the distance, towards where he knew there to be Fallen ruins, a single beam of light shot into the sky.

        “On second thought, I think the message will not be necessary,” he announced.  “Someone get me a stolas.”

Chapter Text

        Cid was doing his best not to run through the city.  He didn’t need to be well read in the soil and stone of Rosaria to know that tremor wasn’t normal.  He’d been at the academy with Mid when it struck.  She fell off her chair and nearly hit her head on a board with the force of it.  He just barely caught her.  Once things settled he reluctantly left her with the staff and made his way toward the castle.  If there was a blessing here, it was that the staff at the academy was always kind to Mid and she loved them all.  They were happy to look after her and it was easy for them to redirect her attention after the tremor so Cid could slip out.  This situation was bad.  He could feel it in his bones.  This was the beginning of something if they didn’t act fast.  The only question was what.  It spurred his steps faster.

        “Cid!”  Benna was waiting for him in the bailey when he came through the gate.  She jogged over to him.  “You must have felt that as well?”

        “The tremor?  I’d say the whole Duchy felt that.”

        “Do you know what it could be?”

        “No, but…”

        “But?”

        “But I’ve got a feeling it’s trouble.  A lot of it.”  Benna’s lips twisted into a frown and her eyes darkened.

        “One of your inexplicable yet far too often correct instincts?”  Benna had been with him for a few of those gut feelings over the years.  He couldn’t explain them, but more often than not he was right.  And most were not foreknowledge.  When he nodded she straightened, feet shifting slightly to a more ready stance as if they were preparing to fight here in the bailey.  “Then we should do something about it, ought we not?”

        Together they walked quickly through the castle.  Everyone was whispering about the tremor in every corner.  That confirmed his suspicion that this was just as rare as he’d thought.  There was only one time he remembered feeling anything even similar and that had involved a certain Dhalmekian Dominant.  This might well have been stronger than that considering no one was whispering about Titan looming on the horizon.  Cid and Benedikta arrived at Elwin’s office door, barely knocking before pushing the door open.  The office was covered in papers, maps, reports, and a single stolas on the perch in the corner. 

        “Interesting day, isn’t it?” Cid quipped as he closed the door behind them.

        “Far too interesting in my estimation,” Elwin replied, eyes fixed on the map before him.

        “Do you have any ideas, Your Grace?”  Interesting that Benedikta would slip back into formal habits when it was business.  Elwin had come to accept them all as a part of this growing insanity of a family his children had brought home.  For the best, Cid figured.  Weird attracted weird and this was bound to only keep going.

        “Little enough, I’m afraid.  This is unprecedented within the Duchy.  Were that not bad enough, I also received word from Rodney of an attack on Eastpool.  Luckily it was only goblins, rare though that also is, and they were easily deterred.  Rodney himself took a small wound, however, which has done nothing to ease my mind.”

        “He’s alright, is he not?” Benna asked.

        “He is.  It was only a graze, thank the  Founder.” 

        “Could it be related, d’you think?”  A knock on the door punctuated Cid’s question.

        “On a day such as this?  I would discount nothing.”  The door opened after Elwin’s called permission to admit a small, spindly man in a grey hooded robe.  “Cyril.  What have you found?”  Cyril glanced uncertainly at Cid and Benna before choosing to speak as commanded.

        “Little, Your Grace.  We have reports of a light shining from one of the towers on the rise above the marshes.”

        “The Fallen remnants?”

        “Yes, Your Grace.  It began with the tremor, or near enough that we believe it related.”

        “Troubling.  Those goblins at Eastpool carried weapons made of Fallen scrap.”

        “Unusually inventive of the little bastards,” Cid remarked.  That could prove an unwanted connection.

        “Agreed.  Anything else, Cyril?”

        “Two things, Your Grace.  First a name.  Written upon an ancient map of the area was the word Sagespire.  We believe that to have been the name for whatever remnant might be found at the top of the cliffs.  The second is regrettably conjecture.  When I discovered the connection to Fallen constructs, I conducted some small research of my own for what could have caused such tremors.” 

        “And?”

        “There was one thing I thought could fit such a marvel.  There are records in some few books of the Eikonoclasts, great war machines forged by the Fallen which led to the Magitek War.  They were said to be large, large as the Eikons whom were named for these monstrosities.  As none have entered the Sagespire, I had wondered if it might not be possible a derelict Eikonoclast had come to life.”  That was a punch in the gut to think about.  An Eikonoclast unleashed on Rosaria would wreak absolute devastation and it was unlikely to stop at the borders of the Duchy. 

        “An Eikonoclast,” Benna murmured.  “Are we thinking this Sagespire the source of this tremor, then?  Whatever may be inside?”  Elwin exhaled loudly.

        “That seems the most reasonable assumption, yes.”

        “The challenge with the Sagespire,” Cyril inserted, “is that there is no way to get there.  It has never been explored for that very reason.  The rocky peaks are utterly impassable.”

        “Eikonoclasts aside, we must find a way into this Sagespire, then.  The place may have been a fortress but there must be a way inside somewhere.”  Benna was right.  There had to be something. 

        The thought tickled the back of Cid’s mind as Elwin dismissed Cyril and began looking over maps with Benedikta.  There was something he couldn’t quite remember, something he wasn’t quite seeing.  Such an irritating feeling.  Doubly irritating that he knew it so well.  He just had to piece it out bit by bit.  Whatever it was also made him think of Clive and Jill.  Being pretty certain they’d not spoken of anything even remotely like this in the last few weeks meant it must have been past life.  The two of them.  A wall?  Why would a wall…  Wait.  Eastpool.  Goblins with Fallen scrap.

        “That’s it,” he murmured to himself.  Benna and Elwin stopped to look at him.

        “Might you know something of this, Cid?” Elwin asked.

        “Not sure.  I might know how to get in.  Maybe.”  Cid looked at the map to check.  The road through Eastpool went straight to Phoenix Gate.  The most time-effective route they could have taken, then.  And they did mention an old friend of theirs in Eastpool when Clive came back wearing decidedly fancier clothing than what he left with.  “Is there a patch of the Blight near Eastpool?”

        “There is.  The first Rosarian soil to turn.  It never made sense why, even now.  It is nigh visible from the village.”  That was confirmation enough for Cid.

        “Right.  When Clive and Jill went to the ruins of Phoenix Gate, they came home talking about a Fallen door or something in the Blight.  Caught them comparing it to the walls of the hideaway.  They never knew that door or whatever it was existed as it was once hidden by trees.  I’d be willing to bet that’s your entrance to this Sagespire and the source of the goblins too.”

        “That settles it, then,” Benna announced.  “Shall we go investigate, Cidolfus?”  She smiled at him eagerly.  Great Greagor, he loved her more every day.

        “Well, I’ve nothing better to do,” he replied with a wink.

        “You would so easily take this on yourselves when we can tell you nothing of what may await within?  When your Eikons could be blocked by the Blight?  I would prefer not to ask this of guests.”

        “You aren’t asking and neither are we,” Cid answered.  “Look, we like you and we like your Duchy.  Just so happens we are uniquely positioned to deal with this.  And if it does end up involving an Eikonoclast, you’ll be needing us.  Besides, already told the kids we’d keep an eye on things for ‘em.  Can’t disappoint, now can we?”  Elwin sighed at his words then huffed a laugh.

        “One might think I’d have grown accustomed to this over the years.”

        “Directing others to do what you wish you could do yourself?”  Lips pursed, he nodded. 

        “We will owe you greatly when this is over.” 

        “You will owe us nothing,” Benna argued. 

        “At least rendezvous with Sir Tyler on your way.  He may be able to offer some assistance with his talents.  His rounds took him to Martha’s Rest.”

        “Martha’s, eh?”  Cid chuckled.  It would be good to meet Martha in a better way this time.

        “You know her?”

        “I did.”

        “Then I understand why Clive sought her out some months ago.  She has been an ally to him in this Bearer business, though the Duchy could not be seen so openly supporting her endeavors.  Fortunately she has excellent discretion.”

        “That she does.  We’ll find Tyler there and make for Eastpool.”  He turned toward the door, Benna right behind him.  “Never fought an Eikonoclast before.  This should prove interesting.”

        It took little time to arrange for a pair of chocobos and a few meager supplies for the two of them.  Not even an hour after leaving the office they were tugging the last straps on their borrowed mounts in preparation to leave.  Benna had gotten rather quiet in her task.  Cid hadn’t thought much of it considering they hadn’t had a need to say much, but the silence was bordering on awkward.  Was she getting scared?  Well within her right, he supposed.  When he mounted and she paused, however, he knew he had to say something.

        “Need a lift?”  Benna rolled her eyes.

        “Of course not.  I…”  Her expression, which had been irked at his quip, softened.  “Is this how you always feel?”

        “Sorry?”  She visibly searched for words, something he’d only rarely seen her do.

        “I volunteered for this.  I volunteered Garuda for this.  None asked nor ordered.  This could lead to a need for Garuda in some form yet I leapt at the chance.  Because it was the right thing to do.”  Looking back up at him he found something in her expression he could only call a mix of confusion and pride.  “Is this what it feels like to do the right thing simply because it is right?”  Cid swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.  It didn’t occur to him what a step this was for her.  Easy enough for Cid to lend a hand, but Benna?  This was new.  And he could not be more proud.

        “Doing the right thing isn’t always so gratifying, Benna.  I’d know.  That satisfaction never changes, though.  Finding the right way forward and moving ever onward is its own kind of liberating.”  She nodded at his words then mounted her chocobo.

        “I rather like this.  It is not the freedom I thought I craved, but I think this might truly be better.”  The small smile she bore widened, an excitement blossoming in her eyes.  Never in all the years he’d known her had she looked so free.  Free as she always yearned to be.  “Shall we go kill an Eikonoclast?”

        Tyler grabbed the back of the boy’s jacket and pulled him off the Bearer beneath him.  Things were just fine here until that damned tremor seemed to turn everyone insane.  This was the fourth fight he’d broken up and Martha’s Rest was not that big.  Martha herself had already kicked several people out of her inn for their behavior.  At this rate he was going to need reinforcements.  If the rest of the Duchy wasn’t losing their minds the way people here were.  He hadn’t even had the moment to consider what that tremor could have been.  Rosaria was not known for such things and that was about as far as he’d been able to think it over. 

        “I suggest you return to your home,” he warned the boy sternly.  “If you do not, I will see to it you are kept in ducal custody for the remainder of my time here.”  At least this lad was young enough to be concerned about the threat, unlike two of the previous three.  Martha had given him a storeroom in the basement to keep the offenders in while they cool off.  The boy scampered off in the opposite direction and Tyler bent down to help the Bearer to his feet.  “Are you injured?”

        “O-only a bit, mi’lord.  I’ll be right in no time.  Thank you.”  The man limped off to the waiting arms of one of Martha’s staff.  Martha patted him on the back as he passed her.

        “Let me guess,” she said to Tyler when he’d gone, “boy thought a Bearer’d done it.”

        “Right you are.  That appears to be the commonality of it all.”

        “I en’t a Bearer, but I know it’d take a far cry more’n they have to shake the earth like that.”

        “I dare say it was no Dominant, either.”  It helped that he knew with relative confidence where most of them were.  “It would not explain the light on the ridge even if it were.” 

        “True.  Well, things are calm for a moment.  Let me get you a drink while we can.”

        “That would be much appreciated, my lady.”  She turned a disapproving look over her shoulder.

        “Told you we’ll have none o’ that here.  I’m no lady at court.”

        “Forgive me, Martha.  Habit.”  As they walked up the steps to the inn, a screech Tyler knew well cried out from behind him  He hadn’t exactly expected the stolas to be for him, but when the owl perched on his arm he wasn’t surprised.  “Now what?” he sighed.  With the right words, the stolas relayed the message from the Archduke.  What a message it was.  Cid and Benedikta, Eikonoclasts, goblins in Eastpool.  This day just kept getting better.  Message delivered, the owl flew off back toward the capitol.

        “I’d ask if it were good news ‘cept the frown on your face already tells me it isn’t.” 

        “I fear you will soon need to carry on without me.  This mess has become far more complicated.”  Martha nodded as if she understood everything he hadn’t said.  She knew when not to ask questions.

        “Sounds like you need that drink more now than you did.”

        Tyler had barely sipped his drink when another tremor rocked the settlement.  Someone ran inside terrified because there were now two lights on the horizon instead of only one.  By the time Cid and Benedikta arrived around midday, Tyler had broken up a few more fights and done what he could to keep the people calm.  It was only partially successful.  Martha, however, knew that he was needed elsewhere.  She had a chocobo saddled and waiting along with a few supplies from a merchant she often dealt with.    If only he’d had time to sharpen his sword just in case.  He was sincerely grateful for her efforts, though.  He hated having to leave her alone.  They couldn’t stay long.  Only long enough for Cid to introduce himself to Martha.  For whatever reason, Benedikta didn’t allow him more than a few pleasantries.  It wasn’t until later they explained that he used to know Martha and they did not have the luxury of time for long reunions.  Or half reunions, as the case was. 

        Tyler led them easily enough through the paths to Eastpool.  They were able to explain more of the situation on the way and, honestly, he was glad he was leading.  This did not sound like a good situation to be in at all.  If they were forced to battle an Eikonoclast, Shiva’s Blessing would only do them so much good.  There was no telling how much damage might be wrought.  He silently prayed to the Founder that they would be lucky enough to avoid such a thing.  Somehow.  By the time they had picked their way through swamps and paths, Eastpool being a bit remote, it was fading twilight.  Two sentries stood guard by the bridge into the village.  In the light he could see nothing of their features, but he assumed since the Lord Commander was here, they would easily let a Shield through.

        “Oi!  Eastpool’s closed to outsiders on account of goblin activity.  Best you get back t’where ya came from.”  If Tyler didn’t know any better, he could easily think this sentry barely out of childhood. 

        “I am Sir Tyler of the Guardians of the Flame.  This is Cidolfus Telamon and Benedikta Harman.  We are here on business for the Duchy.”

        “Oh yeah?  Well I didn’t hear nothin’ of no Duchy business.”

        “The Lord Commander is undoubtedly aware by now.”

        “Wait,” the other guard piped up nervously.  “What did you say your name was?”

        “Tyler.”

        “En’t that the name of the bloke Lady Warrick gave her Blessing to?”

        “I don’t care iffin he’s the bleedin’ Archduke himself!” the first hissed.  “We said no one’s getting’ in!”  At that Benedikta slid off her chocobo.

        “Do you mind, Tyler?” she asked sweetly.  He gestured her forward.  Maybe she could talk some sense into them if they weren’t willing to budge for a Shield.

        “Boys.  You have done an excellent job keeping your village safe.  What might you names be?”

        “Mattias,” the nervous boy answered first.

        “Connor,” replied the other.  “Who’re you?”  Good to know he paid attention for the introductions.  Tyler was glad the dark concealed his frustrated grimace.

        “I am a friend.  My name is Benedikta.”

        “Never heard a name like that,” Mattias said with a little wonder.

        “I am not originally from Rosaria.  But enough of me.  How long have you poor boys been out here?”

        “Long enough,” Connor answered.  “And we’ll stay here as long as it takes.”

        “Since just before midday,” Mattias supplied a little more helpfully.

        “Such a long time to be standing watch!  You must love your home to be so dedicated to its protection.  Are you not tired?”  Mattias nodded.  Tyler wasn’t certain, but he looked to be the younger of the two, if height and reaction were any indicator.  They kept their hoods up and he couldn’t get a good look at their faces.  Would the Lord Commander really post such young boys as guards?  It didn’t seem like him.  “Aw.”  Benedikta clicked her tongue sympathetically, zeroing in on Mattias.  “Scary thing, is it not?  Standing out here feeling like the only defense against everything you love?”  This time a sniff accompanied the nod.

        “We can handle our own protection!” Connor insisted.

        “Of course you can, sweet thing.  But a little help goes a long way.  Do you think your loved ones want you to be exhausted and alone out here?  The strongest of men are only as strong as those beside him.”

        “Are you saying we can’t do this?”

        “Perish the thought,” she answered in a saccharine voice.  “How much safer do you think your village would be if you could rest and allow fresh eyes to keep watch?  Endurance only lasts so long.  And I think you are smart enough to recognize that yours is wearing thin.”  Connor looked away.  But Mattias started sniffing again.  Suddenly he was hugging Benedikta, head resting on her shoulder as she soothed him.

        “I can’t do it!” he cried.  “I’m tired and scared and it’s dark and I can’t see!”

        “Shh.  It will be alright.  Come along.  Let’s find the Lord Commander and find a replacement for the next shift.  All guards need to take shifts, after all.”  She glanced over at Connor.  “All guards lay their duty on the next to fill their space.”  Tyler expected Connor to protest.  Instead he heaved a defeated sigh and stepped aside.

        Mattias led them through the village to the larger home on the other side.  He clung to Benedikta the whole way.  He looked exhausted enough to fall down without her.  What was the Lord Commander thinking, leaving these boys out there so long without a replacement?  He would know they couldn’t last as long as a Shield.  Surely the goblin attack hadn’t unnerved him so badly.  Then again, Tyler did recall a brief mention of a wound in the stolas’ message.  Perhaps it was worse than they knew?  Founder, he hoped not.  Two women came bustling out of the house at their approach.  One he knew to be Hanna, Lord Murdoch’s wife.  The other was a Bearer he’d never met.

        “Lady Hanna!” he called.  Immediately she ran to hug him.

        “Oh, Tyler!  It is a blessing to see you.”

        “Mattias?  Where have you been?” the other woman asked after seeing the boy.  “We hadn’t seen you in hours!  We’d a mind to send the hunters after you!”

        “Me and Connor were keeping watch across the bridge,” he said around a yawn.

        “Keeping watch?  Why?

        “It was Connor’s idea.  Just wanted to help.”  That explained much, and relieved some small worry after the Lord Commander.  Those two hadn’t been set to keep watch; rather they’d done it on their own accord.  Difficult to relieve a guard that isn’t known.  Honorable enough of the boys, if a bit foolish.  The woman grit her teeth in exasperation at the explanation.

        “Lady Hanna, if I may,” she said, taking the boy by the shoulders and steering him away.

        “Of course, Celeste, of course.  I think there is still some supper in the kitchen.  Get him something to eat and put him to bed.”  She left to do just that as a few other people came to take care of the chocobos.  Hanna also had one of them go fetch Connor from the bridge.

        “Lady Hanna, we heard the Lord Commander was wounded.”

        “It was a small thing, Tyler.  If he rests long enough for it to heal, he will be just fine.  Now.”  She turned her attention to Cid and Benedikta.  “I do not believe we have met.”

        “Cid Telamon, my lady.  This is Benedikta Harman.”

        “They are friends, Lady Hanna,” Tyler vouched.  Not that he thought she’d turn them away.  “We are here to investigate the source of the tremors.”

        “You think it originated here?”

        “In a manner of speaking,” Cid answered.  “This is probably best kept for indoors, if you don’t mind.”

        “Oh, where are my manners?  Come, I’ll take you to Rodney and get you all something warm to drink.”

        “Sagespire?”  Rodney carefully hid the wince of pain that threatened from his leg when he got out of his chair to fetch a map from the bookshelf.  It didn’t stop Hanna’s protest.

        “Rodney, sit yourself down!  That wound needs time to heal.”

        “It is only a map, Hanna,” he complained, target already in hand.  “I can afford this much to aid in their endeavor.”  Hanna, predictably, crossed her arms and frowned with displeasure.  There was little more she could say now that he was already settled back in his seat.  Normally she would not be present for a meeting such as this, but she’d been rather reluctant to leave his side since his injury that morning.  Considering his slow walking pace at the moment, she may well need to relay messages for him anyway.  “I cannot say if it is what you seek, but there is a Fallen remnant of something at the end of a small pass in the Dim.  It was long hidden by trees, then by the geography.  I never said aught of it simply because it never seemed pertinent.  One can scarcely fling a rock without hitting some Fallen something or another.”  Map unrolled, he beckoned Tyler, Cid, and Benedikta to his desk if only to avoid Hanna’s further scolding.

        “The Sagespire is here,” Cid said pointing to a spot on the crags overlooking the marshes. 

        “What we hope to be a door, then, would be here,” Tyler added doing the same at the Dim. 

        “It is not too far distant to be impossible.”  Benedikta traced the span with her own finger.

        “Says the harpy,” Cid muttered just barely loud enough to hear.  Rodney saw Hanna jump at the disrespect, another kind of scolding already on her lips, but he stopped her with a small shake of his head.  Hanna couldn’t see the way Benedikta beamed with pride at it.  “You aren’t wrong, though.  These things can be massive.  Question is, how do we open it if it’s really a door?” 

        “Could it be attuned to a particular Dominant?” Benedikta asked.

        “Phoenix Gate isn’t so far.  Guess it’s possible.  But which one of us is impossible to know.”

        “If that is indeed the case, we shall simply have to hope for luck,” Tyler supplied.  If Rodney were a betting man, he would guess the Phoenix would be the most likely.  They probably did too.  And if that were the case, they were going to be in trouble.  But if he were to take a further bet, he’d say this wouldn’t be that kind of lock.  Not this close to Phoenix Gate.  It didn’t make sense to have hidden away a door locked only to the Phoenix just to have another of the same type in plain view not so far away.  No, this was something different.

        “Do you have some suspicion of what you might find in this place?” he asked.  “None have ever made it to those ruins that I know of.  The cliffs are simply too high.”  He really, really didn’t like the nervous look the three of them shared.

        “We know nothing for certain,” Benedikta said slowly.  Already he knew there was a but coming.

        “But there was a suggestion of something called an Eikonoclast,” Cid finished.  Sometimes Rodney hated when he was right.  He leaned back heavily in his seat, examining the trio looking for answers.

        “Please tell me you know what this Eikonoclast is.”

        “It’s just speculation, mind.  One who found the name also looked for something capable of causing the tremor.  Came up with an Eikonoclast from the Magitek Wars.  Giant machines, or so they say, that sparked the name for Eikons.”  Hanna gasped.  Rodney was too well schooled in battle and war to let it show that he was very, very nervous. 

        “You think that a doorway leading to the very thing which gave Eikons their name is lurking just miles outside Eastpool’s door.”

        “I’m not convinced, no.” 

        “Nor am I,” Tyler agreed.

        “It was a suggestion.  Don’t have enough evidence of anything at the moment.”  Well, Eikonoclast or no, it certainly explained why Elwin sent two Dominants and a Shield with a Blessing.  He had to admit he’d been wondering since they arrived.  Eikon battles could be massive, deadly affairs.  And that was the known Eikons.  If any fighting followed them back through that door Eastpool would be ground to dust so thoroughly there would be nothing left to bury.  His eyes drifted down to the location of Phoenix Gate on his map.  It had been a long time but something Joshua had said the night it all came to light flared to life in his mind.  A crater paled only by the Dzemekys Falls.  Rodney had only seen the Falls once.  He did not want to ever see something like that here.  Two Eikons fighting an unknown Eikonoclast could do it.

        “I need the two of you to promise me,” he said in as level a tone as he could manage.  Cid and Benedikta listened solemnly like they already knew what he would say.  “If this turns into a battle, keep it in the Sagespire if at all possible.  And if not, promise me you will do your best to keep it away from Eastpool and the other villages.”  Benedikta bowed her head slightly.

        “We will do our best.  You have my word.”

        “Mine as well,” Cid added.

        “Should it turn into such a battle,” Tyler inserted after a moment, “I will rush back here to do what I can.  That is not a thing I could hope to be of use in.”  Rodney nodded.  That was the best they could hope for.

        “Good.  Now you will find nothing in the dark out there.  Get some rest and you may find this door in the morning.  Hanna has already made a place for you, if I know her.”  He smiled at his wife and she did nod, but her attention was quite a bit more focused on the three guests.  They’d done what they could to keep the new Dominants in the Duchy a secret.  Not quite on the level of Clive, but a secret nonetheless.  “Go get some rest.”  The moment the door closed behind the trio Hanna was standing at his side, questions on her face.  Most of which she dared not say.

        “Rodney, just who are these people?”

        “Cid is an old friend of Clive and Jill’s.”  Hanna’s brow furrowed a moment without comment.  He would love to be able to tell his own wife everything.  They all agreed that they needed to keep a handle on the Phoenix-time-travel-breaking-the-world situation.  Everyone they chose was deliberate and unanimously agreed upon.  As much as it pained him, Hanna didn’t need to know.  That didn’t mean she didn’t suspect something, though.  Every once in a while she made a face at some comment he had to step around.  She never said anything.  He knew she put it into the same box as the secrets he must keep as lord commander.  This was just one more time she knew it didn’t quite add up and said nothing.  “Benedikta is a friend of Cid’s he brought with him when he left Waloed.”

            “Waloed?” Hanna whispered, a bit of nervous twitching in her fingers.

        “Yes.  He was the lord commander there until he’d a falling out with their king.  A rather substantial one at that.”  She took a deep breath and let the information sink in.  He wanted to be honest but he just couldn’t bring himself to say they were Dominants.  “They are to be trusted, I promise.”  A long minute passed while she debated if she would continue her questions or let it be.  Then she took up his hand in both of hers and nodded.

        “Of course.  If they are friends, they will be welcome here.  What do we do now?  If this Sagespire truly contains what they fear, surely we must do something.  Prepare for an evacuation or gather supplies, perhaps?”  Rodney pulled her down for a kiss. 

        “This is why I married you,” he whispered, fingers lingering on the back of her neck.  “That indomitable spirit of yours has ever left me in awe.”  Indomitable spirit and absolute faith in what he could not share with her.

        “I might have learned some of it being married to the lord commander of a nation.”  Rodney laughed and kissed her once more.

        “I love you, dove.”

        “And I you, bee.”

        “Come.  Let us do what little we can.”  This time, Hanna didn’t protest when he got up and left the office.  Rather, she followed right behind him determined to do her part.

        “I believe I might have preferred this door be closed.”  Benedikta stared into the black interior of whatever Fallen nightmare they were about to enter.  A single doorway standing open answered most of their questions while leaving several more in its wake.  This door should not be open.  So who opened it?  How had they done so?  Were they still inside?  A few goblins had attacked them just before they found the door, but Benna was reasonably certain the goblins were a symptom not a cause. 

        “No need to climb the cliffs without a need,” Tyler answered her.  He handed her a torch and lit it. 

        “Climb if you wish.  One of us can fly.”  It was meant to be a joke, but her voice hitched with nerves just enough for him to instead arch a questioning eye at her.  “Have you ever been into a ruin such as this, Tyler?”

        “No.  The door to the Apodytery is as close as I’ve come.  I know little of the Fallen, I fear.”

        “Where is a bookish little Firebird when you’ve need of him?”  This time Tyler actually laughed at her joke.

        “Having a far better day than we, I pray.”  Benna laughed, feeling a tiny bit better about this now.  Humor in tense situations was something she had picked up from Cid over the years.  As she laughed she looked over to the man himself, realizing he’d been very quiet.  She found him studying the door with a scowl on his face.  He reached a hand inside, scowled further, then retracted the hand.

        “Cid?  Are you alright?”  He shook his head and stepped back, lighting a cigar with his lighter even though he’d probably only take one or two draws off it.  She could see his mind spinning as he sat on a rock away from the door.

        “I don’t like the feel of it in there.  It’s…”  He shook his head again.  “You can feel a trickle of aether just through the door.  There’s something not right about it.” 

        Benna marched over to feel for herself.  It took a lot to rattle her volatile polearm like that.  Gingerly she put her hand through the door.  Cid was right, there was a trickle of aether.  He was also right that it felt off.  Thin, almost, if an invisible and intangible thing could be considered such.  Thin not in amount, though.  Thin like a stew that hadn’t cooked long enough.  And it stopped at the door.  She could sense no trace of it anywhere but on her hand.  What could contain aether to such a degree?  Was it the Blight outside? 

        “I have never felt aether so thin,” she commented.

        “Nor I.”  He tapped the end of his cigar on his thumb thinking very hard about something.  In the quiet, Tyler tested the doorway himself, frowning at what he found. 

        “Strange though it is, this could be of use to us if this tower holds what we fear.”

        “There is only one way to know for sure,” she replied.  “Cid, let’s get underway.”  He started a bit from his thoughts, but nodded and tossed the cigar aside. 

        The interior was black as night outside the ring of their torchlight.  It almost seemed to swallow that light, protecting the ruin’s secrets from being found out.  Benna shivered.  Never had she set foot in such an ominous place.  The air was stifling and it was not because of the Blight.  It quivered around her, anticipation and dread in equal measure setting her heart to racing.  She didn’t want to think of herself as weak or fearful, but if she hadn’t had Cid and Tyler with her she knew for fact she would run from this place.  As it was she jumped backward when her foot kicked something and sent it skittering across the stone.  Tyler caught her before she fell flat on her backside.  The sound of such a small scuffle echoed far beyond what she could see.

        “That did not sound like a rock,” Tyler whispered, helping her regain her balance.  Benna was glad he didn’t speak louder.  This place couldn’t take the sound of a normal voice.  Cid, braver than she, knelt down to see if he could figure out what she kicked.  He picked up something that was so deep in color it was almost black but not quite there.  The jagged edges of it cast even more shadows on his hand.

        “Is that some kind of rock or unshaped gem?”  She didn’t want to say what it actually looked like.  Cid didn’t answer immediately.  Instead he held his torch down toward the ground.  Several similar rocks littered the path they could see.

        “It’s exactly what it looks like,” Cid said in a rough voice.  To prove the point he laid his torch down.  A moment later a light floated over his shoulder.

        “What kind of crystal looks like that?” Tyler asked.  The object, which they were all still staring at, cracked to pieces before their eyes and fell from Cid’s palm.  “And fractures after such little use?”

        “I would think it corrupted yet considering what I now know of the Mothercrystals, that seems unlikely.” 

        “Not unless you count a lack of something as corruption.”  Benna looked to Cid, confusion pulling eyebrows together.

        “What does that mean?”

        “Just a hypothesis I’m working on.”  He continued forward without explanation.  After a brief look at Tyler, they followed.

        Their path continued on in silence and relative darkness.  Every so often Benna would catch something that might have been a reflection from their lights on some distant object she couldn’t see.  They were always quick flashes, gone before she looked.  It reminded her of the ghost stories she used to tell other servants when they were annoying her.  It was the first time she thought maybe there could be some truth to them.  At the blessed end of their journey they found another door.  This one was not open, but opened easily enough when Cid held a hand to it.  He was in the middle of explaining that Fallen doors opened a little differently when they stepped through to a very different sight.

        Inside the tower was enormous.  Light filtered through from outside between lattices of ceramic.  The spire went so far above them Benna couldn’t follow it all the way.  Pale blue lighting accented the stone from veins of crystal set into place for what must have been decoration alone.  Everywhere she looked was a pathway going further and further up.  Fallen technology was not supposed to work save the occasional remnant constructs.  As far as anyone knew there was no way to operate something of this size.  But this place, it almost looked alive.

        “Someone say it is my imagination making this place look functional,” Tyler murmured as he looked around. 

        “I wish I could,” Benna replied.  “But how?  It would need some kind of power would it not?”  Cid grunted.

        “It does.  Runs on aether, at a guess.”  Now that he mentioned it, the aether did feel a little more normal here. 

        “Unauthorized biometrics detected.”  This new voice reverberated through the space with an odd timber unlike anything she’d ever heard.

        “Someone is still here,” Tyler said, hand moving to sword.

        “Initializing security scan.  Safety protocols disengaged.”  That odd voice gave her chills.  It didn’t sound human.  This time Benna reach for her own sword.

        “I don’t think that was a person,” Cid said far too calmly for her liking.  “I think that may well have been the tower itself.”

        “A tower can speak now, can it?  Will it invite us in for tea?”

        “Is that where we draw the line when we know they had ships that could fly?”  Benna scoffed.  “Don’t think tea is what it has in mind, though.  Wouldn’t expect a warm welcome here.”

        As usual, Cid was right.  Everywhere they turned they found enemies.  The guardians they encountered first posed little real problem.  Finding goblins after that answered a few lingering questions.  The most irritating thing they encountered was some giant orb that kept electrifying the air around it.  It didn’t bother Cid too much and after the first instance of it he had Benna and Tyler aim for the pistons moving into sight around the construct.  After that it was a much easier fight.  However Benna was not prepared for what they found in the next room.  Piles and piles of those bizarre crystals lay everywhere.  They seemed to be growing from the stone itself.  It reminded her of seaweed and moss clinging to whatever purchase it had found.  And they kept going.  Lines and lines of the things holding fast to every surface they saw.  What kind of crystal grew at all let alone like this?  Is this what would happen if they didn’t mine the Mothercrystals?  There was something else too.  The aether here felt different.  No longer thin, it was dense yet not dangerously so.  It moved like an unseen river around them.

        “The aether has changed again,” she commented in the midst of a particularly thick section of the crystal.  They grew so thick they covered the walls from floor to unseen ceiling and were well on their way to obscuring the posts circling the center.

        “Aye.  Noticed that.  Bloody hell,” Cid sighed.  “Sometimes I hate being right.”

        “What do you—” 

        Screaming from further in cut their conversation short.  The sound alone when they thought no one was here was enough to scare Benna half to death.  Then she registered what the sound was.  A moment later they were ducking through a hole the crystal hadn’t covered yet and running down a corridor.  The trio crested a rise in the hallway in time to see three people backing away from a hulking construct the likes of which Benedikta had never seen before.  Standing at least twenty feet tall with a skull for a head, it was a terrifying visage.  It stalked toward them and she didn’t need her battle instincts to know what was about to happen.

        “I would hazard a guess that these were the ones responsible for this place’s activation,” Tyler murmured. 

        “Warning.  Warning.”

        “Not this again,” Cid grumbled.

        “Core defense systems engaged.  Initiating sterilization lockdown.”

        “Cid…”  The construct in front of them lit up with purple lights in the eye sockets flaring to life.  It pulled its fist back and before they could do anything it swung at one of the men.  He scurried out of the way twice only to get backhanded on the third.  Then the construct turned its attention on the next.

        Benna felt the crackle in the air before she saw it.  This was going to be a fight and this creature was enormous.  She and Cid had fought together before, naturally, but never with Tyler, not on this scale.  Not the kind of barely-there relationship you’d prefer to go into a battle like this.  Honestly, though, she felt little more than exhilaration.  It had been a long time since she or Cid had met a foe without holding back.  In this, they wouldn’t be holding back.  She couldn’t wait to see Cid in action again.  The crackling intensified.  He took a couple steps forward, spun, and hurled the levin rod at the giant.  It stuck into the side of its skeletal head just before it could try pummeling another of the men before them. 

        “Over here, you big ugly lout!” Cid shouted as they stepped closer toward it together.  The creature snapped its attention to the obviously greater threat approaching.

        “Take your friend and flee this place,” Tyler called to the strangers, who wasted no time in complying.  Benna just grinned.  Now she didn’t have to worry for them.

        “And while they do, we shall happily take care of this nuisance,” she said and drew her sword. 

        Now that it knew where to focus its attentions, the construct was quick in releasing a wave of energy that threatened to push them all off their feet.  With a good jump and a gust of wind beneath her she was abled to avoid the worst of the shockwave, landing a few feet away to see their enemy deliver some kind of powered-up kick in Cid’s direction.  Thankfully he avoided it.  That was an attack to be wary of.

        “I’d say you pissed it off, Cidolfus,” she called while flinging a small tornado out where it could hit the construct.

        “Levinbolt to the side of the head’ll do that, I’d say.”

        Tyler slid around the thing’s next attack, doubling back for a quick strike that the creature seemed to wholly ignore.  She heard a frustrated grunt escape him before pulling his hand back to gather his magic.  Ice exploded from his hand straight under one of the creature’s legs, shattering on impact and sliding it just barely off balance.  Off balance enough for Benna to swoop in with a talon.  The talon flew from her hand, latching onto its chest and sinking in.  The magic was still connected to her and she pulled hard.  But the thing was too strong.  She couldn’t quite get it to move the way she wanted.  It almost slipped from her hands when another pair of hands closed around her magic, something she didn’t think was possible, and pulled with her.  The briefest glance of confusion at Cid was all the hesitation she allowed before she pulled with renewed vigor.  Lightning swirled around in her wind and through the talons already in the creature’s chest.  The smell of whatever was inside the thing burning from the lightning had her wrinkling her nose in disgust.  It was more foul than the usual victim of Cid’s magic. 

        Together they pulled it down hard.  With some extra well-placed ice, it crashed to its knees.  Knowing that was all they could do, she released the magic only to pull more, a pair of claws in each hand.  She clawed and sliced her way across every inch of the enemy before her, confident in the knowledge her partners were doing the same thing.  Her talons were much more effective than mere steal against the unknown substance.  By the time it regained its footing, obvious cracks in it stuttered its movements.  Unfortunately it did little for whatever other power it had.  As soon as it stood, circles of unbridled power appeared on the ground.  She was tempted to call it magic, but it was unlike any magic she’d ever seen.

        “Careful!” one of them shouted.  She wasn’t sure who.  It might even have been her.  She barely twisted out of a circle in time to avoid the pillar of magic that shot into the air from it. 

        Seeing Cid and Tyler recover unharmed, she poised to rush back into the battle, but something stopped her.  Something in the back of her mind.  She jumped and rolled to avoid a kick in her direction, trying to figure out what it was.  It was a dim, unclear, hazy thing.  An image.  A stone rooftop she didn’t recognize with turrets in the corners.  Those turrets could be weapons with a need.  She had the ability to throw them.  Somehow she knew that.  But why would she think of that now?  How would some place she’d never seen help?  She rolled again, this time throwing razor-edged blades of wind in the creature’s direction, when she spotted it.  Could she break those giant crystals like a turret?  Could she throw them?  It was a crazy idea and she was quite keen to see if it would work.  She had a feeling this was only the beginning of their time in the Sagespire and if she could make shorter work of things, it would only be better for them. 

        Wind kicked up around her with the aether she drew to herself.  Her familiar wings sprang to life with the semi-prime.  She would need all the strength she could get if this were to work.  Cid watched her, question in his eyes, but he trusted her.  Once off the ground and safely away from the creature, she flicked one hand toward a pillar of crystal to grasp it as firmly as she could and pulled.  They crystal was tougher than she expected.  It shattered so easily after use, she expected it to simply crack at the suggestion.  Maybe this was a ridiculous idea after all.  Beating her wings as much as she could, she pulled against her magic, willing the crystal to break.  Come on!  Her wind had to be stronger than this!  She heard Tyler cry out below her.  He’d been clipped by the shockwave of another power-up kick.  He rolled to the side and pushed himself to his knee just in time to block the kick with a shield of ice.  They were getting hurt because she was trying to be clever and wasn’t there to take some of the attention.  Still she pulled, convinced this would work.  Then another hazy image came to mind.  Don’t try to break the entire thing but a piece of it.  That image formed better and she knew what to do.  Retracting the talon she tried again.  This time she had two, one going in each direction.  It wasn’t the entire turret; it was only a side of two.  The crystal was still tough but with a little more finesse in her approach, she was certain it would work.

        Crack

        The sound of that small fracture echoed despite the battle beneath her.  For the first time since she’d gained some altitude the creature turned straight to her.  It stalked toward her even as she pulled, never looking at the two others desperately trying to get its attention again.  Benna heard them both yelling at her but she didn’t move.  Move now and this whole thing was for nothing.  So she let it come.  She pulled harder.  Squeezed those talons as she never had.  And when it finally broke off she flew backwards barely missing the creature punching in her direction.  Giant chunks of crystal now in her grasp, she bound them together overhead in a boulder of crystal, wind, and talons.  Then she drove it forward with all her might, shouting with the effort of driving this crystal home into the creature’s chest.  It didn’t quite kill it on its own.  Luckily she wasn’t alone.  Crystal in place, she floated down to the ground and let her semi-prime go.  Cid and Tyler, however, were one step ahead.  Each managed to get a hand on the crystal, calling forth a maelstrom of ice and lightning through it.  The insides charred, ice shards jutted through any crevice visible on the outside, and the creature seized, shuddered, and fell. 

        “Security Sentinel 503 offline.  Initiating emergency core relocation program.”  Before they’d even caught their breath the tower’s disembodied voice echoed around them once more.  In the center of the tower an enormous crystal she’d thought little of when they entered rose from its position suspended between two parts of the central spire.

        “Well this just keeps getting better,” Cid said grumpily. 

        “What was that?” Tyler asked.

        “It seems the Fallen were onto something more than we thought.  That there was the heart of a Mothercrystal.”

Chapter Text

        “A Mothercrystal?  You must be daft, mate.”  The three men they’d told to run cautiously walked around the corner now that the creature guarding the tower was felled.  Two still wore hoods, but the third, who Benedikta took to be their leader, had pushed his back.  He clutched his arm and winced painfully from the strike he’d taken before they intervened.  “There’s not a Mothercrystal for leagues.  Everyone knows that.”

        “You try talking your way out of every situation like that?” Cid quipped with some clear annoyance.  “Who the hell are you people anyway?  Awful lot of people in a tower that no one’s supposed to be able to enter.”

        “We-we were just passing by and found an open doorway.  Isn’t that right, lads?”

        “Right!” the other two agreed in unison.  It was fooling no one. 

        “Make a habit of walking through dark doorways without so much as a weapon, do you?”

        “Well they’ve never attacked us before,” one of the lackeys muttered.

        “Quiet, you daft sod!” the leader shushed in a hurry.  The damage already being done, Cid calmly walked over and set his arm on the lackey’s shoulders.

        “See, now that I want to hear more about.  What’s your name, lad?”

        “Halek?”

        “Are you askin’ me?”

        “N-no.  It’s Halek.” 

        “Right.  Then why don’t we go and have a chat about this tower of yours?”

        “The tower isn’t rightly ours, ya know.  We’re just here for the crystals.”

        “Now what would you want with crystals like this?  They’re hardly worth mining if you haven’t noticed.”

        “Our people need them!” the leader shouted.  Benna’s hand inched closer to her saber, though she was pretty sure she wouldn’t actually need it.  These three wouldn’t pose much threat to a lamb. 

        Come, little lamb.  To the slaughter with you.

        Benna blinked hard, the conversation fading around her for a moment.  Where had that come from?  And why did that sound so familiar?  She schooled her expression to a careful neutrality before anyone noticed her surprise.  There was something uncomfortable hidden in those words.  Not anger exactly.  Irritation, maybe.  She mentally shook herself.  Everyone had bizarre thoughts cross their minds every once in a while that made no sense.  It was probably only that. 

        “Yes, alright?  Yes.  The tower said the Fallen here were building their own Mothercrystal.”  Benna’s gaze drifted up to the spot where that giant crystal had moved.  A Mothercrystal.  Cid was right after all.  She’d never been inside a Mothercrystal, though she wasn’t entirely certain this could count considering.  Barnabas was quite protective of Drake’s Spine.  He never let anyone near it save himself.  “Despite years of searching, all we ever found were shards.  They may not be what you’d call decent.  But they’re better than nothing and nothing is what our people had before.  We’ve been mining them for centuries.”

        “For centuries?” Tyler repeated.  “Then nothing like this has happened in that time?”

        “No.  Never.  Usually dark as pitch in here and quiet as the dead.”

        “Maybe it’s on account of spending more time here?” the other lacky said.

        “Why have you been here more?” Benna asked.

        “Our people need the crystals,” the leader said with a shrug.  “This place was little more than dust until about seven years ago.  Then suddenly the crystals started growing again.  More than you can count.”  Cid locked eyes with Tyler and then Benna.  The gears were already turning in all their minds. 

        “Look,” he said to the leader.  “Famiel, was it?”  When had Cid gotten his name?  “The three of you should get back down to Eastpool or Martha’s Rest or somewhere safe.  We have to see what’s left up there for everyone’s safety and you’re only like to get hurt.”  He fished a handful of gil out of a pouch.  “Here.  Go get a drink and a meal.”

        “Wait, you’re going up there?  You can’t!  What about the guardians?  They’ll only get tougher the higher you climb!”

        “Luckily we specialize in that.”  Benna wished she had Cid’s confidence. 

        “We cannot leave until we are certain this place poses no threat to the Duchy,” Tyler added.  “The tremors it has caused have already taken their toll on the people.”  Cid gave Famiel and the others a strong look of warning as they passed. 

        “You can’t!  There’s nothing up there, I promise!”  Famiel’s protests faded as they walked up a pathway and around the central pillar of the tower.

        “We are about to destroy a Mothercrystal, aren’t we?” Tyler said just loud enough for them.

        “If you aren’t ready for this, there’s no shame in that,” Cid comforted him.  “Those blokes wouldn’t be hurt for a guard considering.”

        “It isn’t that.  I just never imagined myself doing this.  It has always been the role of others.”

        “No one does imagine it ‘til it happens.  That’s the thing with changing the world.  Most don’t plan on doing it before something throws them into the thick of it.”

        “I hardly think this warrants such talk considering none in the Duchy knew this existed, but I thank you for the attempt.”  As they stepped onto the lift and it shuddered into motion, Benna caught sight of the three they’d told to leave running up the stairs.  They cried out at them, demanding they stop, begging they turn back. 

        “I do feel bad for them and their people,” Cid remarked, adjusting one glove.  “Maybe we can do something for them afterward.”

        Let me spell it out for you, Branded.  No one is listening.  No one at all.

        Benedikta jolted to hear something else she wasn’t expecting cross past her mind.  Were they even Bearers?  She had no idea.  More than that, there was the same irritation as before.  Why was she so irritated by them?  What had they done to her?  They may be fools to waken this place but that shouldn’t be cause for this.  That irritation pressed up against fear.  Those words sounded so familiar to her.  Surely she’d never said them before.  Even if she had, why think of it now?  More to the point, why was her hand resting on her saber, begging her to free it and be rid of the nuisance in front of her?

Elsewhere

        “Lord Commander?  Could I maybe speak with you?  If you aren’t too busy?”  Rodney looked up from his map to see Celeste wringing her hands in the doorway.  He was rather busy.  If something happened at the Sagespire, Eastpool was the most likely to be affected and he needed options for as many possibilities as he could think of.  But he couldn’t bring himself to just send the girl away either.  The fact she was here at all was odd.

        “I can spare a few minutes.  What is it?”

        “My lord, I’ve been thinking about the goblins yesterday.  The whole village is on edge without reason.  I saw those three visitors arrive last night and, well, I’m sorry, my lord.  I hope you forgive me.  I may have eavesdropped a bit after I got Mattias to bed.  I know there’s a need to worry, even if I don’t know what it is.”  Rodney frowned at the blatant admission of eavesdropping, though he had to respect her resolve for admitting it.  “I wondered, my lord, if there was something I could do to help like I helped you.  I liked helping yesterday.  I haven’t been free long, but this village is the only home I know.  I want to help keep it safe.”  This girl continued to surprise him.  He leaned back in his chair, studying her.  He didn’t know Celeste well.  She hadn’t even been one of their Bearers, ignoring how little that phrase meant in the reality of the Murdoch household in recent years.  For some reason she’d just decided to attach herself to him after yesterday.  Bearers all across the Duchy were at a crossroads of having to choose how to live after the edict.  Celeste was no different and Rodney had a suspicion she had something for herself in mind.

        “How would you help?”

        “I’m not sure,” she answered with a shrug.  “I hoped you could tell me what needs doing.  I could gather supplies we could need or assist Lady Hanna or I could maybe help if more goblins show up.”  It was easy to see which of those she preferred.  Her voice rose just a bit at the idea of goblins.  Knock two goblins over and now she had a taste for battle.  He could almost roll his eyes at the idea.  Before he could reach a conclusion, Hanna bustled into the room, wiping her hands on an apron.

        “Rodney, Elwin sent help.  A dozen Shields approach led by two Guardians.” 

        “Good.”  It would be easier to direct his own than civilians.  Thank you, old friend.  He started to stand from his chair to go greet the contingent and start doling orders but Hanna pushed him back down before he could get more than a couple inches. 

        “No.  You will not be greeting them personally.  I am having the Guardians brought here and you may issue your commands to them.”  Rodney grumbled silently as he had countless other times since yesterday.

        “Blimey, only seen the Lord Commander ordered around by the Archduke.”  Sir Clarence stepped into the room just in time to witness the scene.  He was a good-natured man, if he did occasionally say exactly what he was thinking too often in Rodney’s estimation.  “Might have to report back to His Grace, my lord.  I think our Lord Commander has been compromised.” 

        “Everyone falls in line to the words of my wife when she’s a mind to throw her weight into it.  That includes the Archduke.”  Clarence laughed and saluted Hanna instead of him. 

        “Knock it off before you get us both reprimanded,” said the second Guardian standing just out of sight.  The younger man entered, thin lips pursed into a scowl directed at Clarence’s jibes.  This particular Guardian, Logan, Rodney hadn’t had much cause to interact with.  From what he could gather, he was something of a solitary creature not prone to gatherings or merriment.  If he remembered correctly, Logan was barely part of the Shields at Phoenix Gate and, wanting to prove himself, hadn’t touched a drop of ale that night.  Because of that, he was one of the first in the courtyard when the fighting began and was witness to Shiva, Ifrit, and the Phoenix.  Surly he might be, but he could be trusted.  “Lord Commander,” he addressed with a crisp salute.  “The Archduke sends his regards and wishes for a speedy recovery.  We are here to aid in whatever way you see fit.” 

        “Logan.  Clarence.  Thank you both for coming.  You’ve both been apprised of the situation?”  They nodded.  “First and foremost I need a guard and watch set up around the village.”  His gaze returned to Celeste, still standing away from everyone awkwardly glancing toward the door for an easy way out.  He hadn’t forgotten her presence.  In fact this presented a welcome opportunity to give her precisely what she wanted.  “Celeste.”  The poor girl squeaked and jumped at the sound of her name.  “How well do you know the surrounding area?”

        “Quite well, my lord.”

        “Excellent.  Then here is how you help.  You are to act as guide for Sir Clarence and Sir Logan.  They will instruct you in what they need for their men.  Understood?” 

        “Yes, my lord!”  Her excitement, and the Guardians’ curiosity, faded immediately when the room began to shake once more.  It was the second one today.  This one lasted longer and he could swear it felt stronger than the last. 

        “I think those are getting worse,” he muttered as the tremor subsided.  “Clarence, Logan, I do not care how you do it.  Get me eyes on that thrice-damned tower!”

        “My lord!” they acknowledged in unison with salutes, Clarence’s no longer mocking.  In quick step Logan turned for the door and Clarence pulled Celeste out with them, making brief introductions.

        “Are you certain sending Celeste out with them is wise, Rodney?” Hanna asked, worry creasing her features.

        “She asked for a way she might help.  And as you continue to remind me, I need more assistance at the moment.”  She playfully flicked the tip of his ear.

        “Do not use my words against me.” 

        “My sincerest apologies.  Tell me, how do we stand?”

        “I’ve two of our servants subtly gathering supplies with those they think can keep calm.  I’ve also spoken to the boys at the stables about chocobos and wagons should they be needed.”

        “And the cellars?”

        “Our own is prepared.  Others are being cleared and stocked as they can be.  Whether we need to run or take shelter, we will be prepared, Rodney.”

        “I pray you are right, Hanna.”

        “And I will pray we need none of it.”  Hanna kissed his cheek and returned to what else needed her attention.

        He was incredibly grateful to her in all this.  She handled the stress like a veteran.  Between her and the support from the Shields, Rodney did feel a little better.  A little.  Founder, he wished there was a way to get updates from Tyler, Cid, and Benedikta.  At least enough to know what was happening.  If nothing else it might explain the continued tremors that seem to have gotten worse since they entered the tower.  He’d thought those tremors would stop with the lights.  They had for a while, but now he could only assume whatever they were doing was causing new tremors.  At this rate the Duchy would fall apart before they could do anything about the spire.  Flames, if there really was an Eikonoclast in there…

        Focus.  He chided himself for allowing his focus to slip into worry and uncertainty.  If he allowed that, it would cripple his ability to react when something did happen.  Yet even as he chided himself with that fact, he knew this was something far beyond what he normally dealt with.  He’d seen battles involving the previous Phoenix and Shiva but he wasn’t involved in the actual direction of the battle.  The closest thing he had to a personal experience in this was Phoenix Gate and that was far from the same thing as the potential for two fully-realized Eikons fighting an unknown Fallen monstrosity masquerading as an Eikon.  All he could do was prepare and have faith that three were enough to contain it without it turning to that.

        Benna hated everything about this place.  The fact the Fallen were creating crystal from the aether of creatures?  Disturbing.  That the creatures trapped in crystal tombs all over the tower were still alive?  Alarming.  And it all was secondary to the whispers she constantly heard growing louder with every floor they climbed.  It began as her own voice down below.

        Come, little lamb.  To the slaughter with you.

        No one is listening, Branded.  No one at all.

        The only person I feel sorry for is you.

        How did you do it?  How did you even survive!?  HOW!?

        Heated words she could hear herself saying, hear herself screaming, anger bristling beneath it like a tornado she could control by only the thinnest of threads.  And that thread sometimes slipped from her grasp.  Tyler stepped one step too close to her in a fight or stood too near her looking at the frozen creatures around them and she had to swallow a thousand hateful things that wanted to spring from her lips.  That was bad enough.  But Cid… 

        “I have got to be dreaming,” he whispered.  Eyes wide he spun in a circle looking around them at a dozen intact Fallen airships suspended from rigging.

        “What are these?” Tyler asked.

        “Airships, Tyler!  They’re airships!  I’ve never seen one intact!”  Cid ran to the closest one like a child seeing a cake on their nameday, sharp eyes examining it from every angle he could reach.  It was a talent of his, being able to see the parts of a whole at a glance even if he didn’t fully understand it yet.

        Sacrifice?!  I use my talents to my advantage and you would tell me there is shame in that?

        Benna said nothing in the face of his excitement.  She didn’t trust herself.  Talents.  She’d said something similar to him that night in Stonhyrr.  The look on his face was one she remembered well for she never wanted to see it again.  And here she was angry at him for using his own talents.  She shouldn’t be angry at this.  Any normal day and she would be basking in the sight of this engineer so happily comparing what he knew to this presumably working model.  She loved him like this.  Every other day.  The anger she felt was mostly not her own; a little bit was hers.  Anger at the fact she was angry without cause, irritation and frustration at words only she knew that refused to leave her. 

        “Look at this, Benna!  Wind resistance would be nothing with a forward design like this.”  She offered him a strained smile.

        “Intriguing.”  It was all she dared say.  She was trying so desperately hard to keep her voice neutral.  It was the best she could hope for right now.  Was it working?  Or was it tinged with everything she kept bottled inside?

        “And these ports must be some kind of energy exhaust.  Or maybe keeping it aloft?  What kind of power did they use?  Aether surely.”

        “Likely.”  Cid glanced over his shoulder at her.  He was going to figure her out long before this airship at this rate.  He knew something was wrong.  He had to.  Cid knew her far too well not to have noticed something.

        You know nothing of me, Cidolfus! 

        Stop this, she begged the phantom in her mind.  Her fist clenched angrily around the hilt of her saber.  No matter how hard she tried to drown out the words, they wouldn’t go.  What was happening to her?  Why was she hearing this?  Why could no one else? 

        Cid looked at the airships a little while longer, pointing out several more things.  Each response she gave was terse, each smile forced.  Anything more and that anger that was not her own would spill over onto those who deserved it least.  Finally Tyler suggested they should move on and Cid reluctantly agreed.  They did still have a job to do, after all.  Thankful as she was for the intervention, she almost snapped at him for it.  All she wanted was to scream.  At them, at the world, it didn’t matter.  It wasn’t her anger.  She kept chanting that to herself over and over.  It wasn’t her.  It wasn’t her.  It wasn’t her!  Another floor and another guardian dead, at long last she got some relief.  Her own voice faded from her ears…

        I shall have my revenge.

        …to be replaced with another.  This one she didn’t recognize.  If anger was buried in her own voice, it was hatred buried in this one.  A burning hatred she’d never felt herself.  If there was a single blessing in this it was that this hatred had no place in her to take root.  It was too much for her to comprehend and so it washed over her, seen but not felt, even as the voice pestered her further.

        A veritable kingdom of dust.

        I shall have my revenge!

        I would be king of the world!  She would be my queen, and together, we would rule like the gods we are!

        Hear me, Rosfield!

        Benna just barely managed to stifle the gasp trying to force its way out of her.  Cid and Tyler didn’t seem to have heard any of this and she still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t losing her mind.  If they found out now, they would stop.  They would take her back to Eastpool out of concern and there was no time for that.  But Rosfield?  She’d inexplicably thought of Clive several times hearing her own words ringing through her mind.  Were they connected? 

        If she didn’t understand before, now she was completely baffled.  Who was this man she could hear screaming of vengeance?  What was it about this tower that seemed to have such an effect on her?  It was all she could do to keep going rather than run from this place.  She didn’t want to know what else she might hear.  She was trying so hard to keep it all quiet but every whisper increased the chances Cid and Tyler might notice, more than they already might have.  By the time they reached the interior of the tower, the flesh upon the walls barely fazed her.  It was grotesque to be sure, but there was something far more sinister hiding in the aether here.  And this time she did recognize the voice.  The man she once called king.

        The ground rumbled from the weight of the minotaur finally falling dead.

        “Cid,” Tyler panted, leaning heavily on one knee, sword barely still in his hand.  “The next time…you volunteer to run a gauntlet of Fallen creation,…I would ask you exclude me from the assault.” 

        “Reached your limit, eh?” Cid asked, gasping for breath as much as Tyler.  The Shield chuckled mirthlessly at the joke.

        “I reached it several battles ago I’m afraid.  Never have I called forth so much ice.”

        “Never pushed it to find the line?” 

        “No.  We were too concerned about the curse for that.  We have only ever used it as minimally as we could while still being proficient with it.”  Cid scoffed.  Might need to have a word with Clive and Jill about that.  They were getting too cautious in his opinion.  Everyone planning to wield magic in battle needed to know where the line was, what it felt like to go too far.  It was the only way to get better.  Sure, the curse was a problem and it hurt like bloody hell, but if you didn’t know what you could do, you’d be dead long before the curse anyway. 

        “The curse hurts, that’s true.  You still need to know where the line is.”

        “Believe me,” Tyler huffed, “I have found it.  So long as I can continue pushing it further, I will not leave this place, you have my word.”  Now that Cid got a good look at him, the man was a little pale and struggling to catch his breath.  They hadn’t expected it to be quite this bad up here.  The fact they still hadn’t found the heart was more concerning by the minute.  If this was what they had to face just to get to the end, what the hell was actually guarding it?

        “Can’t disappoint, can we, Tyler?” he said rather than admit his own fears.  Tyler smirked as best he could.

        “Absolutely not.”  He straightened with apparent false bravado, determination and adrenaline the only things keeping him going.  Not the best combination.  Also not the worst.  Nothing Cid could do about it right now anyway.  So he turned his attention to Benna. 

            More used to Garuda’s pull than Tyler was Shiva’s, she was faring a bit better.  Winded and tired, naturally.  Cid’s concern for Benna was that she had gotten quieter the further up they went.  More than once he’d seen her looking over her shoulder like she’d heard something to find nothing there.  Her lips were at this point pressed into a perpetual frown and her body moved more on instinct than command.  It made her an even better fighter, thank fuck, but it also made Cid even more worried.  He’d known something wasn’t right since the airships.  She never brushed him off like that, not even when he got carried away.  She was holding something back.  Keeping something at bay, really, especially then.  It sounded dramatic to be sure but he was sure he was right.  Why wouldn’t she say anything?  The further they climbed the less she spoke and he hoped whatever it was had passed.  It hadn’t.  It had only changed shape.  Instead of keeping something at bay it practically roiled off of her in waves and he had no idea what it was. 

        He should have taken her out of here long ago.  The moment he realized something was wrong he should have made the call.  But he hadn’t.  He’d put the necessity of ending this over her well being.  Now, they had to be nearing the end.  This thing couldn’t possibly be much taller.  Could she hold out?  Tyler was barely standing and Benna was barely present.  What was the right call?  Cid rubbed the back of his neck.  If he had to get the two of them out of here or risk losing them to whatever monstrosity might be guarding the heart, he’d gladly just come back and climb this bloody tower again himself.  Maybe it was for the best he did.  Least he’d get to look at those airships some more.  Might even bring a rope with him and climb aboard.  After, of course.

        “Let’s rest here a while.  I’m not too proud to admit when I’m not prepared and this place has taken its toll on us.  Wasn’t expecting all these creatures the Fallen just lovingly caged 1,500 years ago for intruders such as us.  I’m not willing to make us sacrificial lambs to their overdue meal after that by pushing too hard.”

        “I am reluctant to agree, however…”  Tyler didn’t need to finish and they both knew it.

        “Benna?”  She hadn’t moved from where she stood staring intently at the floor, saber still in hand.  “Benna?”  He took several steps closer to her, feeling Tyler’s eyes watching this play out. 

        “I need to know something, Cid,” she whispered.  Cid’s worry spiked. 

        “Alright…”

        “I’ve been told the others who have returned are known to experience vivid memories in certain circumstances.  Do you?”  Where did that come from?

        “It’s happened once or twice.  Why the sudden curiosity?”  She turned painfully slowly, still looking at the ground for a long moment.  When she did look up, her eyes were filled with terror and tears alike, enough to tighten his chest with worry and a fear all his own.

        “I use my talents to my advantage and you would tell me there is shame in that.”  Cid almost reeled back from her.  He wanted to forget everything about that night.  And the next day.  Maybe the day after that for good measure.  The only thing that kept him from drinking himself stupid was the literal inferno they’d had chained down in the cells that may or may not have done something stupid when Cid wasn’t looking.  “Did I say that to you?  Is that what you heard that night we left Stonhyrr?”  She did say it.  It did hit him that night like a spinning adamantoise.  But all that was far and away a secondary concern at the moment.

        “Benna, how do you know that?”  Her saber fell from her hand at the same moment a tear fell upon her cheek.

        “I really said that, didn’t I?”  He didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on here but he forced himself to nod anyway.  “When?”  She advanced on him quickly when he did not answer and, given what she’ d just reminded him of, it took all his willpower not to recoil when she did.  “When did I say it?”  Cid exhaled slowly, desperately trying to keep himself together.  It was so much more painful thinking of all that now.  Now that they were together.

        “This isn’t—”

        “Do not brush me aside, Cidolfus!”  He flinched, more images of an abandoned church springing to mind.

        “I am not brushing you aside.  This is…”  Painful.  Gut-wrenching.  He’d rather be hit by the adamantoise than talk about this.  They hadn’t been on good terms but seeing her body afterward…  He felt a piece of him die in that moment despite all their fighting.

        “You are doing it right now, aren’t you?  What is it you refuse to tell me?”  He looked away.  He had to.  A shaking breath was the best he could do to calm himself.

        “That was one of the last things you said to me before you tried to kill me,” he whispered.

        “I did what?”

        “Caer Norvent.  It was the first time we’d seen each other in years.  Neither of us could get through to the other.  We fought.  I lost.  Rather splendidly, I might add.  Love to say it was the extent of the curse on me, but you were just too quick.  Within the hour you’d lost Garuda to Clive.”  He shook himself out of the past.  “Now it’s your turn.  Why the questions?”  She looked away with a sniff.

        “It began as we made our ascent.  I keep hearing things.  I first thought it was imagination since it sounded like my own voice but there was such anger in it I could feel it creeping into my own mind.  Then it changed.  It was a man screaming of vengeance, his words tinged with absolute hatred.  I do not know who it was, though I have a suspicion.  I had to know if it was real, Cid.  Just before the minotaur appeared, I heard a third voice that I did recognize.”

        “And who might that be?” he asked as calmly as he could.

        “The king.”  His jaw clenched on reflex.  “I know what Clive told us of his madness, but I heard it myself.  I heard him speak of people as flocks of sheep and I once said the same, didn’t I?  Free will is a corruption, he says.  He intends to lead people back to so-called righteousness like some kind of prophet, but what does that mean?  Is it truly just turning all to akashic creatures?”  Now she was crying in earnest and Cid, for once, had no idea what to say to her.  He thought she’d understood the stakes already so they hadn’t spoken much on it.  A mistake, he realized now.  “I helped him,” she whimpered.  “I believed we were better than all for our Eikons.  Hugo thought we would rule the world.  Barnabas thought we should rule until his god had need of us.  I’m no different, am I?”

        “You are!” he protested, knowing it wasn’t enough.  She was cracking in front of him and he didn’t know how to reach her.  It was, he realized, the first time she made the connection that it was a version of herself that had done all those things.  That he looked her in they eye, the same eyes he looked to every morning when they woke together, while she tried to kill him.  She’d kept it separate, a story, something she could deny.  Now she couldn’t and he didn’t know what to do. 

        “Mayhap you were,” Tyler suddenly said.  “Mayhap you did believe such things.  Jill spent thirteen years killing for the Iron Kingdom.  Clive spent thirteen years killing for the Empire.  Prince Dion razed his own capitol after killing his father.  Yet when the time came, each of them turned their backs on those they had been to strive for better.  Though you did not do the same then, you have now.  You have turned your back on all of it, have you not?  Why else would you be climbing this damnable tower alongside us?”  Benna stared at him in stunned disbelief.  Then she sank to her knees.  Cid was there in a hurry to put an arm around her shoulders, relieved to feel her sink against him.

        “I’m sorry,” she said around new tears.  “I do not understand what’s happening to me.  Barnabas’ words were so cold.  They mirrored my own and it scares me to think I was once so cold as he.”

        “You are anything but cold,” he comforted her, pulling her in closer.  Enough was enough.  “But I am taking no more chances here.  We’re getting you out of here and I will figure out another way to finish this.”  He pulled her to her feet, reached for her saber, and she sheathed the weapon.  But she wouldn’t move with him toward the door.

        “No.  We cannot leave.”

        “I’m not risking you, Benna.”  She shook her head and pulled in a long breath.  When she looked up, she was much more collected than she had been.

        “They are counting on us to end this, Cidolfus.  I cannot walk away.”

        “And I don’t want to risk whatever this is doing to you.  It’s too dangerous.”  Her hazel eyes flashed.  Normally he adored that determination growing in them; today it scared him.

        “Tell me you love me.”

        “What?”

        “Tell me you love me, Cidolfus.”

        “You know I do, Benna.”

        “And we will stay together, now and always?”

        “As long as you’ll have me, but what—”

        “I am not her,” she said fiercely.  “I will never be so cold and uncaring as that woman was.  I am going to prove that.  I am going to shatter this thing for the people who’ve taken me in and given me a home when they had every right to turn me away on sight.  This is where I make my stand.”

        “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, my dear.” 

        “I know.  The only one I am proving aught to is myself.  But I need to see this through, now more than ever.  I need to shatter that heart myself just to prove I can.  To spit in the face of the anger and hatred and apathy I could feel in the words I’ve been hearing all day.  Besides, if we leave now we may not be able to return.  We have to finish this.”  Cid sighed.  She was right on at least that count and he knew it.  Still hated it. 

        “I want to know every time you even think you hear something, understood?”  She nodded.  Dammit, this was just getting better and better.  Mothercrystals and Eikonoclasts just weren’t bad enough.  “Let’s finish this quickly.” 

        Cid turned away to keep pressing through the tower.  Benna fell in beside Tyler to thank him for his help.  Cid wasn’t listening.  He was scared of what was happening to Benna.  Confused why they didn’t all hear it.  Proud of her resolve.  Happy she found a place she wanted to defend so fiercely.  Worried what any of those whispers might spark.  With every step he took, though, it all faded in favor of something else.  A dull anger growing within him by the second.  Whatever they found at the top of this gods-forsaken spire was going to pay dearly for messing with his harpy.

        Everyone told Hanna she was making a big mistake agreeing to marry a man ten years her senior when she was only sixteen.  She’d only known him a year, they said.  He’s far above her station, they insisted.  It was only a fleeting thing, they swore.  The fact was that she and Rodney had both known the moment they laid eyes on each other that they were the one.  Of course, Hanna had to string him along for a bit to keep up appearances.  And Rodney came to see her every day he had a spare moment.  Even after they married there was talk.  The only time she ever thought the talk could be right was when he was made Elwin’s Lord Commander.  It scared her that she might not be enough to withstand being the Lord Commander’s wife.  It was a taxing position on them both.  He would be gone more than home, constantly in demand for every problem plaguing the Duchy.  She couldn’t deny, though, that it was the position he was born for.  He thrived and she found she could handle the strain and the distance.  It made their time together all the sweeter. 

        Then there were days like today.  Rare days when it was on full display precisely why they were simply meant for each other.  The tremors had grown intense and far more frequent and there had been several scraps with goblins in the last few hours that some of the villagers had helped repel alongside Shields.  The lights from the Sagespire were brighter every time she looked, four beams now soaring to the heavens rather than one or two.  Hanna Murdoch would not let herself panic.  Rodney barked orders at Shields, a few more having arrived after the tremors continued.  Hanna, well, a lady would never use a tone one could call a bark.  She did have the entire village running at her order, however, with the same tone that could subdue the Archduke.  She kept a calm head as she directed a village as if they were her husband’s Shields.  Despite their frequent time apart, she and Rodney needed to say little in a situation like this.  She knew what he would do and he the same.  Their words spoken were so clipped and terse one might think they were cross with each other.  And yet she felt giddy with each one knowing they needed nothing else.  She’d never felt closer to her husband, which was saying quite a bit.

        So when the next tremor hit without fully subsiding, leaving a constant tremble beneath their feet, she knew it was time to act.  She sent out who she could, instructing everyone to take refuge in their cellars.  Those that had no cellar would be welcome in her own.  They had plenty of supplies and ensured there were supplies in every cellar.  Eikons or no Eikons, they would not make it far in evacuating if these tremors buried them under rock on the road.  She knew that was the call Rodney would ultimately make and therefore had no hesitation in making it herself.  With the last person tucked away in her cellar, Hanna turned to see to them and found Rodney hobbling out the door.

        “Look after them for me, dove.  I need to be out here with the others.  Someone must keep their eyes on that spire.”  As much as she wanted to protest and drag him down to safety with her, she knew he was right.  This, above all else, was the most difficult part of being the Lord Commander’s wife.  He would always put the wellbeing of others before his own.  No, that was unfair.  That was just Rodney’s way.  Being Lord Commander only changed the amount of danger. 

        “I know, bee.  Do not over tax yourself.  I do not wish to stitch up that leg of yours once more.”

        “I shall do my best.” 

        “Be sure that you do.”  He squeezed her hand, smiled, and let it go.

        “I will come get you when the danger has passed.”  Hanna only nodded and made her way to where she was needed most, just as her husband would do the same.  The thing about a Lord Commander no one ever mentions is that he needs a Lady Commander at his back to be where he cannot.  Rodney’s domain was war, battle, baileys, and swords.  Hanna’s was villages, fields, hearth, and, today, cellars.  She refused to worry for her husband while he did his duty and she took comfort in the certainty he would not worry for her while she did hers.  Instead she applied that energy to keeping her people calm and praying that those sent into the Sagespire were alright.

        “Initializing Eikonoclastic defense system Omega-1.”

        “You just had to save the best for last, didn’t you?” Cid muttered.  This really was one rotten day.  This entire room was the very definition of ominous with the fleshy pieces and red lights.  The heart was right there, but he didn’t dare touch it.  He could feel something in the air.  It wasn’t just aether.  It almost felt like the tingle of his lightning.  Maybe it was Ramuh’s presence, but he knew without doubt that touching that thing now would be a death sentence.  No, they were going to have to get past this last defense first. 

        “I hope everyone is prepared for this as our only way out is no longer viable.”  Cid turned to see what Tyler was looking at.  The bridge behind them was no longer there.

        “Bloody Fallen,” he grumbled.  If he never walked into another relic like this, it would be too soon.  Across the room, past the heart, a red circle that looked too much like an eye for comfort shook, wedges creeping open from the pressure of something inside trying to escape.  “Tyler, if this turns into a battle of Eikons, your only goal is survive.  That’s the best I can give you.”

        “I understand.”

        “Benna?  Doing okay?”  She nodded without taking her eyes off the crystal.

        “I believe that is the source.  It’s louder here, but I can block it out.”  The wedges strained and sinew snapped from the force of a creature Cid had little comparison for burst free of its confinement.  A spider, maybe?  Whatever it was, it landed on the ground and immediately did something to the heart to keep it safely away from them.  He wasn’t exactly a scholar of the Fallen, but he dared even old Tomes to have an answer as to how a bunch of magenta blocks could make an entire bloody crystal disappear.

        “Core containment complete.  Authorizing environmental sterilization procedure.”

        “Huh.  That actually helped.”  Benna almost laughed.

        “I suppose we will not have to search for the heart any longer,” Tyler added.  Cid drew his sword.

        “Anyone fancy killing an Eikon on top of shattering a Mothercrystal today?”

        “Safety routines disabled.  Weapons armed.  Stand clear.”

        This was, without question, the most difficult fight Cid had ever engaged in, and he’d had his fair share of fighting.  He was arrogant and foolhardy in his youth, always thinking he was untouchable.  Ramuh’s appearance only made it worse.  It was that worldview that brought him face to face with Barnabas.  Being young and stupid he challenged Barnabas.  Of course, he knew nothing of the man at the time.  Only that he was supposedly an incredible swordsman and Dominant of Odin.  He gifted Cid something that day that, despite everything, he was still a little grateful for.  Barnabas put Cid’s ass in the dirt so hard he didn’t think he’d ever get up.  Humility proved to be a hard and painful lesson.  There will always be someone bigger, someone better.  Only after years of trying to climb his way to Barnabas’ level did he realize that there was more to it than skill and winning.  As he fought this Fallen Eikon, he reluctantly thanked Barnabas for being so untouchable.  Because he was, Cid had learned to get back up every time he was thrown to the ground.  He remembered that feeling of reaching deeper into his aether than he’d needed in a long, long time.  He pushed his pain to the furthest reaches just to keep going.  Because there were only two ways out of this now: through the Eikon or death by it.  And he didn’t plan on dying here today.

        Then he would catch sight of Tyler, a Shield with a Blessing doing everything he could to stop an Eikon and never even flinched at the prospect.  He saw Benedikta, so set on doing right by the people who took her in when they didn’t have to.  Barnabas may have toughened him up physically, but it was they who strengthened his resolve.  He would always fight harder with allies beside him.  Harder still with friends.  He slashed at the soft flesh of Omega that the armor couldn’t fully hide then flashed out of the way with Ramuh’s speed knowing Benna was throwing razor sharp blades of wind into the already formed wound.  That was followed swiftly by another slash from Tyler and Cid scorched it with a massive levinbolt.  Together they’d managed to cut off one limb.  A limb of a construct so terrifying it gave Eikons their name.  He was glad of it, but how long could they keep this up?  It already felt like they’d been fighting this same fight for hours with too little to show for it.  One limb wouldn’t stop this and he knew it.   Omega stumbled and fell to the ground.  For one brief moment, Cid thought he might’ve been wrong.

        “Data assessment complete.  Recalculating threat level.”  All around the room, circles in the walls that Cid had dismissed as just the way the Fallen had built this place spun to life.  As if it weren’t ominous enough already, each one shone with a red light.  Something sparked to life connecting them, something Cid felt quite connected to.  “Weapons routine authorized.  Rerouting core power to Omega-1.” 

        “This isn’t over yet,” he shouted. 

        “I’ve begun to think it for the best the Fallen are no longer walking the land,” Tyler said with an irritated groan to punctuate it. 

        That Omega thing was up to something, drawing too much power to itself.  This had just been a warmup, hadn’t it?  Could they survive the main event?  After everything this tower had thrown at them, he honestly wasn’t sure.  They had to try, but he didn’t know who might win this in the end.  Then he saw it.  Large cylinders of crystal jutted out from Omega, each one crackling with electricity.  The same kind he’d been able to exploit in smaller constructs.  This might be either the most brilliant or absolutely dumbest idea he’d ever had.  But if it worked, it would save them all a lot of pain.  He just needed a little extra help from a grumpy old man.

        “Get back!” he shouted to Benna and Tyler.  There was no time to explain.  Omega was already trying to do something that made the walls flicker. 

        Cid got as close as he could to the construct, pulling aether to him like a dying man gasping for breath.  This had to work.  It had just been so, so long since he’d primed.  An arm Omega didn’t have before whizzed over his head and for a brief moment he thought maybe he was too out of practice for this.  But then the static arced around his arms, lightning replacing the blood flowing in his veins.  In the blink of an eye, he was looking down at Omega from a much greater height.  Flashes of purple lightning struck the ground all around the creature.  The bug-like face craned to look above it with the new attack.  Staff in hand, Cid pulled on as much aether as he could.  It collected all around him, pooled on the head of the staff, flickered around him dangerously.  Overload those pylons.  He’d done a few experiments with his lightning as a curiosity and he knew that too much of it could do any number of things to small machinery.  That was just flickers in his hand.  This…

        “You could learn a thing or two from a real Eikon.”  His voice boomed over the space that felt much smaller now than it had.  All that lightning crackling all around him, all that power and control he had over it.  As much as he wanted to see it all gone, even he still felt a little bit drunk off of it.  His own willpower could do this.  And it was his own willpower that sent it all straight into the pylons Omega had exposed.

        Every piece of crystal he flooded with lightning.  Every exposed bit of flesh he fried with the intensity of it.  This thing couldn’t hold a candle to what Cid could control and it had nothing to do with his Eikon.  That thing, or the Mothercrystal it was hiding, hurt his love.  This tower had exhausted them all and terrified a nation.  It had threatened a peace he never imagined he could see.  This supposed Eikon chose a poor opponent today.  Today it would learn what it meant to fight lightning with will behind it. 

        What Cid didn’t expect, and probably should have, was the wind that picked up behind him just as the lightning began to fade.  Omega was stumbling.  The pylons were blackened with only the smallest arcs visible from them now.  The instant his lightning dissipated, something flew past him.  Garuda grabbed the largest pylons in her talons and squeezed with all her might.  So damaged were they by his attack, they shattered in her grip and she turned her attention to the smaller ones, smashing them to pieces for good measure.  Apparently that wasn’t enough for Benna, however.  She flew over to him, hovering nearby.  It occurred to him that Ramuh and Garuda had never been seen together, not with the two of them as their Dominants anyway.  Which made her suggestion all the more poignant for him.

        “Let us show this imposter the true storm, my love.”  Cid laughed.  It was a strange sound to his ears, hearing an Eikon laugh in some approximation of his own. 

        “As you wish, my dear.” 

        Together they collected lightning and wind, a veritably typhoon without rain swirling around the chamber dangerously.  Cid let Benna lead.  When she released her tornado, he released his lightning, both striking in unison on the top of Omega.  Lightning cracked out of the tornado like fireflies in the night.  The tornado amplified the sounds of each crack, carrying the sound until they might well hear it in Eastpool if not further.  Then it was silent.  No sound save the clatter of Omega falling and the gentle beat of Garuda’s wings.  Both faded soon after when Benna floated back to the ground with Cid just behind.  He braced himself for the coughing and blood that never came.  Winded, but otherwise just fine.  It was a strange feeling.

        “Omega control unit…offline.  Initiating emergency core extraction.”  The heart of the Fallen Mothercrystal reappeared overhead, slowly spinning.

        “Now to do something about that.”

        “I want to do it, Cid.”  Benna stepped forward, eyes fixed on the heart. 

        “Had a feeling you might say that.”

        “Before you do.”  Tyler jogged back to them, thankfully none the worse for wear after two Dominants priming.  “I was thinking on our way here.  If what you heard, Benedikta, was truly from that other future, and it seems it was, I may have an idea as to why.  In part, at the least.  When Clive and the others first arrived here years ago, there was a long period where we continually encountered creatures much stronger than they ought be.  Creatures they recognized from some few hunts they had undertaken.  The theory was that the ambient aether of the area was disturbed to create these more dangerous variations.  As time went on, we encountered fewer of them and thought little more of it.”

        “Alright.  What’s your point?”

        “Those three we met, they said this place began regrowing crystal seven years ago.  That combined with the theory of a disturbance in the natural aether lead me to think the two might be connected.  And if they are, perhaps some of the aether they brought with them was trapped here, in a heart we knew naught of.  If we break it, could it release something to Tharmr and Kupka we never meant them to know?”

        “That could be a problem,” Cid admitted.  Were that to happen, that could start a chain of events they never meant to start.  On the other hand, they couldn’t just let the Mothercrystal stand, either, could they? 

        “I think we do not get the choice,” Benna said suddenly, worry tinging her voice.  Cid looked up to find her still looking at the heart but slowly backing away from it.  The heart was spinning a bit faster.  The more worrying part, however, were the crackles of lightning shooting off of it and the swirls of what he assumed to be wind flowing within it.  He should have realized an unstable crystal like this might absorb some of their magic, especially if what Tyler thought was true.  He heard a loud crack and the crystal began to shake.

        “Fuck…  Run!” 

        They ran out of the chamber as fast as they could.  The bridge was, thankfully, back where it should have been.  Across that, they got as far as the first step when the heart exploded behind them.  The concussion from the blast sent them all flying down the stairs.  Cid, being in the back, took the brunt of it.  Air left him in a rush leaving him gasping before he even hit the bottom.  He felt himself roll a couple times and had just enough wherewithal to stop that momentum before he could roll off the side of the bridge into the void below.  Still that blackness called and darkness washed over him.

        “What are we still doing here, Chief?”  Halek and Marnek followed behind him faithfully as ever, even if their protesting was getting irritating. 

        “We’re just checking things out.  We’ll be out in no time!”

        “But what about the creatures!  We saw the bodies!”  Marnek’s voice trembled with fear.  Truth be told, Famiel wasn’t thrilled with that either.  Couldn’t show fear now, though.

        “They were bodies Marnek.  Those three already took care of ‘em.” 

        Famiel couldn’t explain why they were following.  He couldn’t tell them that he had an idea about the time he realized just who these people were.  He couldn’t explain that he was sure two of them were Dominants working with a Rosarian ducal guard in a Duchy that already had two Dominants.  He should have run the instant he knew.  But…  This Duchy just might have the ability to do it.  Famiel just had to convince Shula it was the right thing to do.  That was not an easy prospect by any means.  Shula was stubborn to the core and never listened to him.  If he could do this, though, a lot of things would be set right.

        If there was even a chance at his plan working, he was glad he’d followed.  At the top of the tower, in a place they’d never dared explore, he found those three strangers unmoving at the base of a set of stairs.  One was hanging partway over the edge, one shift closer and he’d be falling over it.  The woman was lying beside the guard and a little bit on top of him like she was trying to protect him.  They were all in a sorry state.  Even if Famiel didn’t have his own agenda here it would only be right to help. 

        “Halek.  Marnek.  Let’s get these three back to their people.  After that we’re going home.” 

Chapter Text

        Rodney usually considered himself lucky to know his place in the world.  Most of the time he even liked that place.  Lord Commander of Rosaria fit him well.  Then there were days like today when he didn’t feel like a Lord Commander or even a soldier.  Days where he couldn’t see to the problem himself and he was trapped behind a figurative (or sometimes literal) desk waiting for reports.  True, that was the majority of his job.  Letting others execute his orders rather than doing it himself was one of the hardest lessons he learned in his time at this post.  The knowledge of how vital that role was didn’t help on days like today when his title made him feel helpless.  He could do nothing about the Sagespire or the tremors.  All he could do was try to keep his village safe in the wake of it, could only look at the four beams and fully-lit tower on the horizon and wonder when the next strike would come and what form it would take.  No amount of scouting or reports or positioning would work here.  In that regard, he’d rather fight an army than this.  When the last tremor hadn’t stopped Hanna wisely made the call to take shelter rather than evacuate.  That was quite some time ago and it still hadn’t stopped.  They were stuck on the edge of something, holding their breath for Founder knew what praying it would not be the end of them.

        Little by little the tremor grew in strength.  An old wood shed collapsed along with one of the older houses.  Thankfully they had stopped anyone from sheltering there, but from the noise which suddenly cut off, he suspected debris may have made casualties of a few ducks.  Rodney knelt closer to the ground for balance, ignoring his protesting wound, before the shaking could knock him over as well.  He’d never felt anything like this.  He’d had more balance in the middle of the ocean the single time he’d stepped onto one of Byron’s ships!  At least this didn’t make him sick like that did.  Small blessings.  All around him walls groaned from the movement of their foundations.  For a minute that lasted an eternity he feared the whole village might collapse.  Then as suddenly as the tremors had begun yesterday, it ceased entirely.  The dead quiet was unnerving.  The lights on the ridge flickered and then dimmed to nothing.  Did he dare think it was over?  Whatever it was?  He cautiously stood.  Waiting.  Nothing happened.  Five minutes turned to ten and then to fifteen.  Nothing.

        “Lord Commander!”  Logan ran toward him straining for a solid breath.  “We have word from the closest scouts we could get to the tower.  They reported a loud peal of thunder then an explosion a few minutes later.  The lights vanished afterward.  As near as we can say, the place seems to be inactive once more.”  Rodney finally released the breath he’d been holding all day.

        “Excellent.  Keep a light watch in the event we are wrong.  And be on the lookout for Sir Tyler and those with him.  If they’ve not been spotted by morning we are going after them.”  Logan’s usually unflappable demeanor stiffened at the order.

        “Into the tower?”

        “If that is what it takes.  We will not abandon them.”

        “Of course not, my lord!”  He saluted.  “I will volunteer myself and Sir Clarence for the vanguard should it come to that.”  Rodney nodded.  He knew that well.  The Guardians had become a family of their own since their formation.  They would never leave one of their own behind like that, especially not one of their leaders.  “Excuse me while I oversee the search.” 

        Logan ran off to deliver orders and organize the small search they could afford with the manpower they had available to them.  He was excellent with that sort of logistics.  It was well in hand.  So Rodney turned his attentions to the rest of the village.  Limping up the stairs to his home then back down a set of stairs to the cellar, he cursed each step he’d never thought anything of.  If this wound wasn’t healed by morning, he swore he’d be going into that tower in spite of it.  Even if he did have to slip away from Hanna to do it.  He pushed the cellar door open gently hoping not to startle anyone inside too terribly.  A dozen sets of worried eyes greeted him.  Worried, but unharmed.

        “Is it over?” Hanna asked calmly.  The only one not worried here.  Nerves of steal, he could swear it.

        “It seems to be, yes.  A few buildings were damaged, at least two collapsed and I suspect some casualties of ducks, but it appears we have made it through unscathed.” 

        A lot of tears filled the room with the news.  They probably would have cheered had there not been a couple of very young children sleeping.  One by one the villagers filtered out of the cellar.  Each stopped to thank him for everything as if he’d had any real part in stopping the madness.  All he had done was his best to keep the village safe in the face of the unknown knowing how little it would have mattered should the worst come to pass.  But he could tell them none of that and so he gratefully accepted the thanks anyway, determined to pass it along to those who actually stopped it.  The last woman curtsied awkwardly with the child sleeping against her shoulder and climbed the stairs leaving Rodney and Hanna alone.  Only now did she show a tiny bit of worry.

        “Has there been word of Tyler and the others?”

        “Not yet, no.  There was an explosion near the top of the Sagespire when the lights disappeared.  We’ve no idea of anything beyond that.”  Hanna frowned, arms crossed against her stomach. 

        “Rodney.  I have wanted to ask you something.  I know there are things you cannot tell me and so I have kept my questions to myself.  The two with Tyler, Cid and Benedikta?  Who are they?  I know you would not send them into such a place so easily if you did not believe them capable.  You say they are old friends of Clive’s and of Jill’s yet they themselves are barely old enough to have ‘old friends.’  Who are they, Rodney?”  Rodney froze.  He could stop this right now with a few choice words.  Founder, he didn’t want to do that to her, though.  Not after everything she’d been through today. 

        “They are friends as I said, Hanna.”  That wasn’t good enough for her and he knew it wouldn’t be the moment he said it.  She hummed and turned back toward her former seat on a box of supplies.  She sat on it as gracefully as upon a throne.  With such a simple movement, the atmosphere changed.  This was no longer Rodney’s domain but hers.

        “Do you know what I found myself thinking of while waiting?  Several years ago you brought the boys and Jill home to visit.  There was a moment just as you arrived I thought Clive might cry.  Clive, of them all.  I’d not seen him so emotional since he was a babe.  He disappeared somewhere before I could so much as greet him with you not far behind.  Sweet little Jill covered for you both even though she barely hid her own emotions.  When you returned with Clive you both pretended nothing had happened.  He seemed far better and so I did not mention the oddity.”

        They had to pretend.  Rodney had recognized almost immediately that something was bothering him and Jill alike.  Jill was far better at hiding it, though apparently not from Hanna herself.  He’d easily found Clive with Ambrosia, head against her feathers taking deep, measured breaths.  Torgal sat at his heel whining nervously.  That was when Rodney found out they’d omitted a few things from their recounting to spare others the pain of it.  With Annabella dead, he’d decided Rodney didn’t need to know how his wife died in a culling.  He didn’t need to know that Clive blamed himself to some degree for not being there when he should have been. 

        “Forgive me,” Clive had begged with bowed head and cracked voice. 

        “I cannot forgive something when the one truly to blame has already paid the price,” Rodney had answered as firmly as he could manage.  It was the only time he’d ever hugged the boy he loved like his own son.  He then made him swear to tell him the truth from there on no matter how much it may hurt.

        Hanna knew the position questions like this put him in.  For her to ask so directly was unusual.  Twice over for her to emphasize the question with a veiled suggestion that she knew something was being covered up.  He had to give her some kind of answer.  Her honey gaze firmly told him that.  Anything he said other than that would only create further questions.  It would take so terrifyingly little for her to squeeze the truth out of them all.  Just the right questions to just the right people and she would put most of the pieces together.  Rodney sighed in defeat.  Proclaiming secrets of the Duchy now would only complicate things.  It would be an admission of another kind.  In this situation, his single option was to choose the least devastating of truths.

        “Cid is Ramuh’s Dominant,” he said softly.  “Benedikta carries Garuda.  We have endeavored to keep their presence here quiet as long as we can.”  Hanna exhaled slowly, nodded, and stood.

        “I understand.  To think I hosted two foreign Dominants in my own home.  Thank you, bee.  Now I know better what to do upon their return.”

        “What do you mean?” 

        “Potential injuries aside, they will need special care from one with far more medicinal knowledge than my own.  I will send a stolas to Elwin to ask after someone more suited to the task.”  She patted his arm and started up the stairs, Rodney marveling at her back.

        “That was the point of this?  Proper care for them?”  Hanna smiled over her shoulder.

        “Of course it was.  The Lord Commander must keep certain secrets.  On rare occasion, I also need to know certain things you will not willingly divulge.  At other times?  Well, it would be improper of me to press after every odd thing I see, would it not?”

            Rodney scoffed at her retreating back.  He loved his wife and he loved his job.  Every once in a while, he thought maybe it was Hanna who should have been Lord Commander instead of him.  To trick him out of that information so easily was a talent.  One day, maybe, they could tell her the rest of the story and clear up those oddities she had ever noticed and ever ignored for the sake of them all.  By that point maybe she would already know of her own accord.  Maybe she wouldn’t really need to know.  But one day he would dearly love the opportunity to repay her faith in him with his own faith.  His brave and caring Lady Commander.

        Benedikta couldn’t find her way.  She was trapped in an endless sea of nothing.  Forward, backward, straight line, in a circle.  Everything looked the same as far as she could see.  No matter how far she ran nothing ever changed.  Just grey dust and white horizons everywhere.  Why was she running?  She needed to get out, didn’t she?  Wasn’t there something she was supposed to do?  She couldn’t remember.  It felt like hours that she ran through this lifeless place shouting for anyone who might hear.  No one ever answered.  Not even an echo.  She was alone, lost, and scared.  Trapped in a lifeless world with no escape.  Her wings wouldn’t even answer her here.  She hadn’t felt so alone and hopeless since the day she found…

        “Cid,” she whimpered desperately wishing for a miracle.  “Help me.”

        By fear or miracle, he appeared in the distance.  She had to get to him.  He would save her like he always did.  She ran and ran and ran never getting close enough to reach for him.  Then he turned his back on her and walked away.  She tried to follow behind but chains wrapped around her wrists pulling her harshly to the ground.  Helplessly she watched him leave, abandoning her to her fate.  He found a new family.  He smiled and laughed without her.  Made a home she would never be a part of.  Never once did he look back.  How could he just leave?  Didn’t he see how much she needed him?  Anger burned through her veins alongside hatred.  Anger towards him burning fiercely as the sun in the sky; hatred towards herself pulsing like a far-off star in the night.  She couldn’t stop caring.  Even in the king’s bed it was Cid she was thinking of.  Every time she heard a whisper of him that childish part of her leapt with joy that he still lived.  Her ears were always listening for those whispers and she couldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried.

        The chains tightened around her.  That night in the church.  She didn’t know who she wanted to hurt more, Cid or herself.  Did she want to kill him for abandoning her?  For interfering in everything the king meant to create?  Or was she really just desperate to kill that part of her that refused to let go?  Benedikta could have had the world if he hadn’t gotten in the way.  Without that Branded behind him.  Cid just had to replace her with someone like that who wasn’t even worthy of walking beside a Dominant.  Oh how happy he must be to have someone following like a pup.  All she ever wanted was freedom, to be at the top of it all where she could do anything she liked.  But no.  Some Branded Cid had shoved into her path took the one thing that was hers, the one thing that gave her power.  Damn him!  Damn them both!  Die, die, die!

        Benna wrenched herself out of the nightmare surrounding her, stumbling back from that caged animal she had once become.  She gasped for air trying to slow her racing heart.  Those chains may have clung to her but they could not bind her.  They were not meant for her.  Not anymore.  Cid had come back.  He’d saved her and she him.  She chose him.  Now she was learning what home and family meant.  The world Benna knew was nothing like what that woman knew.  Yet she could still see that version of herself writhing in front of her.  So much anger hiding a sadness that could never be healed.  She felt sorry for her.  Sorry that she didn’t get to know what Benna did. 

        A chilling scream of despair pulled her attention away.  That voice she couldn’t identify earlier belonged to a large, impossibly muscular man bedecked in golds fitting for Dhalmekian royalty.  Hugo Kupka, she was nearly sure of that suspicion now.  He raged against the chains binding him as well spouting never-ending, incoherent threats of vengeance.  If that was Kupka and this truly was a remnant of the past, the revenge he sought must have been for her.  Benna cocked her head, taking in his features.  Especially the muscles.  She almost laughed.  No, still couldn’t see herself choosing someone like that willingly.  She preferred men whose greatest muscle was their mind.

        After Kupka’s appearance it wasn’t exactly surprising to hear Barnabas next.  He, too, was bound to the ground.  However, unlike the others he was calm.  Rather than scream at a world which did naught but take, he murmured to himself.  Constant words flowed from his lips about people and free will and the Almighty.  A prayer of offering and the words of introduction to the world he sought.  It was every bit as disturbing as the ravings, if a different kind of disturbing.  She was honestly more afraid of the silent fanaticism that would lead to insanity.  At least she could understand anger and hatred.  Not that.

        She couldn’t figure out why she was seeing any of this.  It didn’t make sense why she alone would be in such a position with no one else around.  In answer to the unspoken question, she realized something smooth and heavy rested in her hand.  A key.  On the wrists of her other self?  A lock.  And she understood.  She could unlock everything held within.  She could regain at least some of the memories of her past life.  It was tempting.  While the course of her other life had not ended well, she would have had more experience in a great many things, things Benna could use to her advantage now.  She could learn from past mistakes, learn from battles fought, make herself a better person than she was now or then.  She could become the woman Cid said was fast enough to beat even him.  But the anger was a problem.  Even as she considered the merits, she knew that anger would swallow her whole in the end.  Her eyes traced the chain from the wrists of her other self around in the circle in which Benna stood.  One lock on three sets of manacles.  This was no choice at all.  If she released her own memories, she would unlock Kupka’s and Barnabas’. 

        The Sagespire.  That was where she’d been.  She’d wanted to make a stand against that world.  At the time she’d meant with the heart of the Mothercrystal, but this was better.  No one else would ever have this opportunity.  No one else ever had the choice whether to remember or not.  She suspected it was a fluke that she now did.  And her stand was here.  The key fell from her palm into the dust below.  She wouldn’t learn anything from that life to make the rage worth it and she wouldn’t be able to keep it back forever.  This simple act might save Kupka from his hatred too.  No one deserved an all-consuming grief like she could feel from him.  He deserved better, caught up as he seemed to be in the mess Barnabas made.  She knelt down and buried the key away.  As for Barnabas himself, there was probably no saving him and she wasn’t sure she wanted to try now that she knew the truth.  What she could do now is save others from his madness, perhaps get a little justice for her other self in the process.  With his memory restored, it would spell doom for them all.  That was a risk she couldn’t take.

        And so the decision was made.  With head held high Benna walked out of the chains binding the past, confident it would at last stay where it belonged.  She had no need of that life.  She already had everything she needed and she intended to fight for it in whatever way that meant.  She would follow Cid every step of the way.  She would help Mid become the greatest engineer of their age.  She would keep Ultima from the home she had claimed.  This time as she walked the unchanging scenery didn’t unnerve or frighten her.  She still didn’t know where she was or why no one else was here, but there was a way out.  She knew that.  A way back to her world.

        Tyler barely recognized the motion of someone walking awkwardly along while supporting his weight.  Whoever was carrying him grumbled something he was too exhausted to catch despite it being so near.  He couldn’t make any part of his body move whatsoever.  His mind, even, was only functioning by the faintest margin.  The best he could do was to think of taking some of his own weight without actually managing to do it.  So this was what it meant to be exhausted by aether use?  Nothing he ever did as a Shield could come close to this feeling of every fiber of muscle being coated in lead, feeling like the very blood in his veins flowed slowly as thick syrup on a cold morning, or the feeling that his own heart might as well be beating from someone else’s chest. 

        “What are we gonna do with them, Chief?”  The voice was garbled and distorted like he had water in his ears from a swim in the lake.

        “We’ll just leave them where they’ll be found.  –too close to the village.”

        “—They destroyed a Mothercrystal!”

        “Just do as I say, Marnek!” 

        He didn’t know who these people were and right now he didn’t care.  They seemed to be helping.  Not that Tyler could do much to stop them even if they weren’t.  That slim awareness he’d barely managed to grasp slipped through his fingers and he fell back to the darkness for a while.  At least it was comfortable there.  Sometime later, at least he was pretty sure some unknown amount of time had passed, that awareness reached back out into his surroundings.  It was a jumbled mess.  If everything had felt like lead and syrup before, now he couldn’t even find himself.  All he knew was the damp night air on his skin wrapping around him on the light breeze that hadn’t been there before.  Base understandings like up and down were foreign concepts at the moment.

        “Oi!  Tyler!”  His name alongside taps he assumed were on his cheek acted as a small, much-needed anchor to reality.  If nothing else he finally figured out which way was up.  “Sleepin’ on the job?  Fine example for a leader of the Guardians, that.”  Several more taps pulled him a bit closer to the surface.  “Come on, slacker!  Break time’s over.  Wake up, already!”  It was a herculean struggle to find and then crack open his eyes.  Someone was watching him when he finally did manage it.  Between his slow mind and dim vision, he wasn’t sure who it was.  Someone who knew him and he was content with only that.

        “Cid?  Benedikta?” he barely whispered.  Already he knew he wouldn’t be able to say more.  It was a challenge just to wait for the answer when he could easily just drift back off to sleep.

        “We got ‘em.  Don’t you worry about them.  Everyone’s fine.  Eastpool too.  You did one hell of a job, all of you.”  He tried to nod or show some sign he’d heard those words but it sapped the rest of his strength just thinking about it.  Though he couldn’t place the voice speaking to him right now, it instilled trust and safety within him.  Safety enough to let go knowing it would be alright to sink back into the comfortable dark a while longer. 

        It was to long shadows from the setting sun when he woke once more, this time feeling like he finally had all the pieces of himself within grasp.  Although he was stiff and his muscles sore and heavy, he could at least move.  He could see the canopy of a bed above him.  Not that he knew how he’d gotten here or where “here” was.  He assumed it was Eastpool.  Those boys from earlier had dragged them out of the Sagespire.  Now that he could think clearly he recognized names and voices.  They might well have saved their lives.  For what?  Why would they have gone to so much trouble?  Tyler wished if nothing else he could thank them for it.  Groaning a little at the soreness clinging to him, he sat up slowly while holding a hand to his side where it felt like he’d developed a wicked bruise.  Probably had more than a few of those.  Probably had worse he hadn’t noticed yet.

        “One time I’ve ever known you to stay idle and you just gotta worry us all with it.”  Tyler glanced up to find Clarence walking over from a chair on the other side of the room.

        “Clarence?  When did you get here?”

        “Not long after you went into the Sagespire, I’d guess.  Archduke sent me and Logan with some other Shields to help out around here.  How do you feel?”  He let out a long breath and tried shifting his weight to lean against the bed’s headboard.  The motion pulled one of those probably worse places, turning the breath to a hiss.  Clarence helped him shift some of his weight and guided him the rest of the way.

        “Like I let Clive use me as a training dummy,” Tyler finally answered honestly.  Clarence made a face.  It was well known among the ranks of the Shields how hard Clive trained and fought.  Not many would train with him these days as a result; they were too scared.  That, however, was not exactly what Tyler meant.  It would be more accurate to say he let Mythos use him as a training dummy, Eikons and all. 

        “No wonder you slept nearly a full day.”  The news was startling at first.  Then he realized he wasn’t actually so surprised.  If anything, he was surprised it wasn’t longer.

        “Cid?  Benedikta?  Are they well?”  Clarence chuckled softly.

        “Yeah, I wasn’t too sure you really heard me answer that last night.  They were with you when we found you.  They’re fine.  Sleepin’ it off according to Lochlan.  Apparently Lady Hanna wormed it out of the Lord Commander that they were Dominants and sent for help to treat the three of you when it was safe.  But we aren’t meant to know that, o’ course.”  The man’s eyes practically danced with mischief for a moment before it faded.  “Look, Tyler.  Logan and I’ve been worried.  Didn’t know this was a thing that could happen when you have a Blessing.  It’s been a long, long time since you took more than a scratch.  Same for Wade.  Somewhere down the line I think we all started thinking the two of you were nigh invincible.”

        “Is that not rather dramatic?  I am still in one piece and aside from some bruises and minor wounds, simply exhausted.”  It had been a statement to set his friend’s mind at ease, but it really sank in when he said it.  Founder, he’d survived that.  Constant fighting, terrifying guardians, a functional Eikonoclast, and the destruction of a Mothercrystal.  Just a Shield with a bit of ice.  He never would have made it without help.  He doubted the entire Guardians of the Flame could have pulled it off working together.  In that, Cid and Benedikta were invaluable.  But he’d played a part.  He’d done something no mere man should have stood a chance against and he lived.

        “Tyler?”  Clarence looked at him worriedly.  He hadn’t realized how distracted he’d gotten over it.  “Just what was in there?”  The man was rarely so serious as this, a seriousness born of concern.  How much could he get away with saying? 

        “A veritable gauntlet of Fallen monstrosities,” he answered simply.  An understatement if ever there was one.  “We were able to shut down the tower’s defenses at the top, but something exploded.  That’s the last thing I remember.” 

        “Guess that explains why Lochlan thought you all had varying degrees of a concussion.  Well then.”  Clarence pushed himself off the bed and made for the door with a quick step.  “Best go tell the physicker you’re awake.”  He paused before leaving, though.  He didn’t look back when he spoke in that serious tone again.  “We Guardians are practically family.  Being a part of it means a lot to us all.  We know that you and Wade both keep secrets from us and we don’t question it because we trust you.  I get the feeling some of that secrecy is at play here, too.  So I want you to know I won’t question.  But I also want you to know that when you’re ready to spill it, we’ll be here.  You’ve always been there for us and we’ll be there for you when it’s time.”  Before Tyler could say a word he walked out the door and closed it behind him.

        That was all odd, especially coming from Clarence.  He had a bit of a reputation amongst the Shields for being something of a clown.  Most of that came from his outlook on being a Shield.  Where many saw it as a calling to guard the ducal house and the Phoenix, it was just a job to Clarence.  Once, Tyler himself had thought him somewhat irreverent.  But as he got to know him, he found the man took his job very seriously; he just tried to lighten people’s moods with humor or a witty comment.  That hadn’t changed after they started the Guardians of the Flame.  The only real change was that this went from a job to something he was always meant for and Tyler could respect that.  Conversations like this were still odd for him.  More immediately concerning was the idea that they all knew there was something not being said.  He’d hoped they’d kept it hidden better than that.  No one should have faith in a leader they knew kept things from them yet their Guardians had every faith.  And patience enough to wait.  His stomach churned with guilt even though he knew why they could say nothing. 

        Lochlan arrived not long afterward to check him over.  Tyler told him everything he could about the tower and the physicker took particular interest in the explosion at the end.  That one thing apparently answered many of his questions.  He bustled off soon after, giving Tyler a clean bill of health with some rest.  As soon as he was gone Lady Hanna came in with some hot tea and food, both incredibly appreciated.  The only thing he needed after that was a hot bath.  In the back of his mind throughout all the activity nagged that single thing: he’d survived an Eikonoclast. 

        When Wade first presented him the idea of asking for Blessings, he’d sincerely wondered at the usefulness of just two.  As he went through with the Blessing himself, he wondered if this was truly enough to make any kind of difference, if they could protect anything.  If it was really worth it in the end.  It nagged at him still in the dark of quiet nights or after particularly long days.  He finally had to admit that if Wade’s greatest weakness was, as Tyler always said, impulsiveness, his own was overthinking.  With that in mind he did his best not to let those thoughts get the better of him.  Now he could put them to rest for good.  Perhaps he could not have done it without the aid of Dominants, but an Eikonoclast had died by his hands.  He had played a part in sparing Rosaria and maybe more the pain of seeing such a beast raze the land.  And at the end of it, the first Mothercrystal fell by their hands too.  He couldn’t deny the benefit anymore.  Without him or Wade, Cid and Benedikta would have struggled in such a place.  Tyler had never been more at peace with his choice to bear Jill’s Blessing than right now.

Some Time Later

        “Benna, what are we doing all the way out here?”  It had been several days since their dramatic time spent in the Sagespire.  Thanks to Lochlan’s excellent care and medicines, their injuries, especially Cid’s as he’d received the worst of the blast from the Mothercrystal, had been healed in record time, or working on being fully healed.  They all still had a few bandages.  Really, though, man was a magic worker with his remedies.  No broken bones helped the process.  That would have taken longer to heal.  Cid still wasn’t sure how they made it out without a few broken bones between them.  As soon as Cid was given leave to be out of the house Benna dragged him back out into the Dim for reasons she’d not explained yet.

        “I have something to make up for,” she answered cryptically.  Cid rolled his eyes at her back.  He trusted her enough to just let her have her fun, annoying though it was to be in the dark.  Considering the hell she went through in that damned tower it was surprising she was as cheerful as this.  He’d honestly been scared, really and truly scared, to see her after he woke up.  Who was she going to be when he did?  But she just smiled brightly and kissed him hard enough Lochlan excused himself for the moment.  She didn’t mention anything about her ordeal and he let it lie for the time being.  Which made it even more confusing now as she turned down a discreet path he knew they’d taken a few days ago.

        “Benna…”

        “Trust me.  You will enjoy this.”  He sighed and continued to follow.  At the end of the path, the Sagespire door stood open once more, if it had ever closed.  Near the door Tyler sat talking to Wade.

        “The one time I leave you alone and you go and shatter a Mothercrystal without me!” Wade protested, jostling his friend good naturedly.  Tyler laughed at the protests.

        “Believe me, had we known what awaited us I’d have gone to fetch you myself.”

        “Tyler.  Wade,” Cid greeted them.  “When did you get here?”

        “Cid!  Good to see you up and around.  They said you were pretty banged up.  I just got here this morning myself.  Last time I let this one take a solo patrol, let me tell you.”  He stuck a thumb in Tyler’s direction to make his point and they all laughed.  But beneath the banter the lad was worried and trying his best to hide it.  These Guardians acted less like Shields sometimes and more like, well, like the fighters of the hideaway Clive had turned into the Cursebreakers. 

        “Says the one who decided to see what he could do against an abnormally large minotaur on his first solo patrol after receiving a Blessing and ended up with both lecture and further training from Clive.”  Wade visibly shuddered at that.

        “Don’t remind me of Clive’s definition of training when he’s displeased.”  Unsympathetic though it may be, Cid kind of wanted to know what that meant.  Instead of sating his curiosity, however, he took pity on the terrorized look on Wade’s face and tried to ask what was going on.

        “So what are—”

        “Ready?” Benna interrupted, wrapping an arm around his and smiling sweetly. 

        “If I knew what for I might be able to answer that,” he said around a twist to his lips at her interruption.  Whatever was happening, Tyler and Wade were both in on it as they stood at the question and made their way toward the door.  Naturally no one was explaining anything.  So Cid just kept trusting them and let Benna lead him on.

        The eerie, thin aether of the place was gone now that the Mothercrystal was shattered.  Still a little creepy in the dark passage of the entryway, but even that wasn’t as bad without those dark crystals half absorbing, half reflecting the light.  Wade wanted to know the details of everything, so they told him about the tower speaking, the crystals scattered everywhere, and the guardian that nearly killed Famiel and his friends.  He was absolutely in awe of the interior of the space.  Truth be told, now that they could appreciate it, it was pretty incredible.  If the Fallen did just one thing well, their architectural prowess was second to none.  Cid couldn’t fathom how they’d managed to accomplish this marvel.  They walked on toward the lift, yet another marvel he’d love to understand, with Benna specifically trying to latch onto every distraction she could to keep him from asking questions.

        “By the way, Cid,” she said when conversation faltered.  “You mentioned something about corruption by omission.  We didn’t get to clarify.  What did you mean by that?”

        “Simple.”  Easier to play along with her distractions than keep pushing.  Although he did like that mischievous smirk that played with the corners of her lips every time she stopped a question before it began.  “If I understand what Clive told us right, the Mothercrystals were all created with a piece of Ultima in them.  Stands to reason that was what kept them stable.  Without that,” he gestured around to the walls which had once had darkened crystals, “you get cracked, defective things.  Corruption for a lack of the most vital thing they couldn’t have known about.”

        “Makes sense,” Wade commented.  “Like trying to build an arch without the keystone.  No matter how well you balance the bricks, it’ll tumble down anyway.”

        “Exactly.”

        They continued the trek through the rooms that had been filled with creatures.  A few were still encased in their crystal prisons to Cid’s surprise.  He figured without the power of the Mothercrystal they’d have opened by now.  At least they weren’t opening to fight them this time.  He really didn’t want to fight any more so soon.  Up another lift they went and the surprise was finally revealed.  Of course he’d wanted to come back to the airships.  It was the find of a lifetime.  He hadn’t expected Benna to arrange it, though in retrospect maybe he should have figured it out earlier.  When they exited the lift, they found not only two more Shields Cid didn’t recognize but a rope ladder anchored to both walkway and ship.

        “Wade,” Tyler said already walking ahead, “let’s ensure a safe perimeter.  Clarence and Logan can help should we run into anything yet lurking.  And you might be interested in the view from up here.”

        “I still want to hear more details of what you found the first time!” Wade called as he jogged to catch up.  It was obvious they were giving them space while still protecting them.  That was why they were here, he realized: protecting Benna and himself.

        “This is the surprise.”  Benna sidled up to him, holding his arm close.  “I might have exchanged a few favors before you were allowed to leave.”

        “You orchestrated this?”

        “Obviously.”  She almost laughed, but the smile faded before the sound left her lips.  “This is an apology.  I was so curt with you when first we were here.  It was undeserved and cruel knowing how excited you must have been.  And so I arranged to come back with you to make it up.”  Cid scoffed.  This woman…  There was no way to stop the excitement and expectation bubbling up at the prospect of climbing aboard one of these ships and she knew that very well.

        “You have nothing to apologize for, Benna.  That was not your fault.”  He pulled her forward to kiss her hard, driving home the fact that he didn’t blame her for anything.  Her short words hadn’t even begun to hurt his feelings then.  They just worried him because he knew it was abnormal.

        “Then do not think of it as apology,” she answered between more kisses before pulling away.  “Think of it as my selfish way to watch you climb aboard a probably functional airship like none in living memory have done.  I missed your excitement the first time for being lost in my own haze.  I will not make that mistake again.”

        “Such a selfish thing you are.”

        “You could always repay me.”  Her eyes twinkled without shame.  “I’ve heard there is a festival in Rosaltih soon.  Now.”  Pulling away entirely and unwinding herself from him, she pushed him toward the ladder.  “You have an airship to explore.”  Laughing at her forcefulness, he let her push him along.  Grasping the rungs of the ladder, though, he paused.

        “That is a long way down.”

        “Do I need to prove I will catch you once more?”  Her voice sang with the teasing tone of her words.

        “I think one ride from Garuda is enough to last me.”

        “Then do not fall or I shall make the second even more memorable.”  Suddenly more afraid of her catching him than the drop beneath, he climbed the ladder to the sound of her amused laughter.

        There was little to the ship that he could immediately see.  A large, empty deck between stairs leading to two other sections.  With the size of this thing, there must have been a way down into the bowels of it somewhere.  The engineer in him begged to start fiddling with controls to see if the thing would still work.  Terrible idea and disaster waiting to happen, he knew.  For the moment.  Advances were never made without risk.  Carefully controlled risks after he knew more about what he was dealing with.  Would the controls be forward or aft?  Choosing a random direction, he trotted up the stairs to the forward section.  Not much of it made any sense to him.  Yet.  Nothing reacted to his touch either like doors usually did, which was probably a good thing since he didn’t want to poke too much too fast.  Still, there had to be a way to control this thing.  Maybe it was in the aft section.  When he turned around, Benna was standing there, leaning against the wall with arms crossed and smiling gently.

        “I’ve never seen you look so excited.  A mystery you cannot parse out upon a glance.”

        “Haven’t been here that long.  Give me a proper chance.”  Her smile widened. 

        “Take the time you need.  Though I suspect Lady Hanna will miss us if we do not return by supper.”  Cid barked a laugh at that.  Cruel words knowing he could easily lose himself in here for days without someone to remind him of basic necessities.  When he looked back towards Benna intending to say just that, she was chewing the inside of her cheek.

        “Something wrong?”

        “No, nothing.  There was one more thing I wished to speak to you about.  I was trying to decide if now was the time.”

        “Well you can’t say something that vague and then leave it.  What is it?”  She nodded to herself.  When she spoke, it was a slow place like she’d memorized this and was reciting a script.

        “When we left Stonhyrr, you promised me a place where I could choose.  You know how I feel about this incredible place you brought me.  But I had one more choice to make and I have now made it.  I am going to help fight against Ultima when the time comes.”  Cid stared, stunned.  Whatever he thought she might say it wasn’t this.  He’d thought her choices already made. 

        “Are you sure, Benna?  No one is going to force you to do this.”

        “I know.  I am certain.  I have already begun, in fact.  After the heart shattered I had the chance to regain memories of that life, or some of them at least.  That was what I heard here, my memories, Kupka’s, and Barnabas’.  I doubt it was all our memories.  At a guess it was the worst version of ourselves.  Who we were when the world deemed us truly lost.  Before we each lost to Clive.  It is hazy, like a fading dream, but I remember a bit of it in a vague sense.”

        “What do you remember?”  The question was out before he thought about it, only afterward wishing he hadn’t asked.  Benna shrugged and began wandering aimlessly around the room, running her fingers through dust.

        “I remember what I heard here in the tower clearly.  There is little context and I would not call it memory.  Simply words said, things overheard in the loud chattering of a city.  I remember knowing those memories lay before me buried in a terrifying, overwhelming anger and fear.  I remember hatred for myself.  I cannot truly explain why it existed beyond guessing with what you’ve told me.”  She stopped to look down over the railing to the world below.  “The thing I remember most of the experience, however, is the absolute certainty that should I have taken any of it, it would have led to doom.  Not just for myself, but doom for us all.  The pain and torment would have eaten me alive.  And it was all or nothing.  If I took what was left of me from your world, it would have released what was left of Barnabas and Kupka too.  My first act in this fight was to leave it all behind.”  She looked back at him, fierce eyes staring him down.  Benedikta’s natural ferocity, the ferocity he’d always admired even when it wasn’t healthy, had found its focus.  “I want to help save the world, Cidolfus.  Because this is the world where I found my own worth.  Garuda and I are going to play a part in the struggle against a god this time.  I will not lose my way again.”

        Cid exhaled heavily.  She said that.  She did say that, didn’t she?  He wasn’t dreaming?  No, he was pretty sure this was real.  His Benedikta really did say it.  It wasn’t often he felt overwhelmed by emotion, but this was certainly one of those rare times.  His eyes stung while his mind processed her words.  This was so much more than he ever expected to hear.  Embarrassed, he turned his back on her, rubbing his eyes trying to get a grip on himself.  To get a grip on the overwhelming relief he hadn’t expected.  Only in his most ridiculous dreams did he dare allow himself the idea that perhaps this would happen.  She was so different from the shy girl he took to a festival seven years ago.  He didn’t know this Benedikta as well as he thought and he couldn’t be happier for it.  He didn’t hear her cross the room until her arms wrapped around him.

        “What is it?”  He swiped his eye and cleared his throat awkwardly wishing he could pretend he wasn’t failing to hold back tears over this.  Benna was not letting him out of an explanation, either.  How could he explain?

        “I knew within a day of waking here that I would do all I could to save you,” he said slowly.  “That was my greatest regret, leaving you behind.  I thought the night we left I’d done it, that no matter what else happened you were at least away from Barnabas.  That was enough so long as you were safe and happy.  With or without me, I’d take whatever came so long as that remained true.  I didn’t dare think you’d change so much.  I didn’t think…”  Bloody hell this was hard to explain.  Damned feelings.  “Save your life and save your soul.  That was the plan.  I couldn’t let myself think what might happen.  Couldn’t let myself dare hope that soul would decide to save the world instead of raze it.”  She tucked herself into his chest and let him hold her tight. 

        “Never forget that it is because you saved me that I now have something to fight for.  I have people I care about.  Friends and a home I want to see safely through this.  I may have chosen my own path, but you gave me the lantern to light my way.”  Unsure, for once, what to say to that, Cid only clung tighter.

Chapter Text

Elsewhere

        The road from Oriflamme was long and taxing.  Dion was certain half of Sanbreque must be searching for them.  They’d narrowly avoided one lucky patrol two days into their journey that passed close enough they could hear angry talk about having to track down the prince of all people.  He briefly entertained the notion of speaking to them and trying to explain things, but feared the potential disaster that could create and so remained hidden.  Even if he did manage to turn these few to his side, what were they to do?  Dion himself wasn’t sure what could be done yet.  It was too close a call, though.  A few days after that they’d made the difficult decision to leave the chocobos behind at a stable and travel the rest of the way to Rosaria within the borders of the Blight.  Conventional wisdom said none would linger there.  With any luck, it would make it easier to lose further pursuit.  After all, if the average person would not linger in such a place, why would a Dominant put himself at such a severe disadvantage? 

        Dion was exhausted in a way he could only remember happening a scant few times, but they were finally in Rosaria, if far to the north of their goal.  That small victory and sheer determination were the only things which kept him putting one foot in front of the other.  Terence was little better, try as Dion might to take what strain he could.  He always kept watch a bit later than he was meant to and insisted he be the one to cross the border to hunt so Terence could rest.  Thus far he’d not commented on it.  Whether he hadn’t noticed or was simply that tired, Dion didn’t know.  It was all quite unnecessary, he realized that.  Terence didn’t need him to coddle and care like this.  He couldn’t help it.  Now that he had him back, truly back, all he wanted was to care for him as he’d never been able to and to repay everything he’d done for him over the years both in this life and the last.  Anyone would be overprotective if one they loved had, in a manner of speaking, returned from the grave.  So when Dion finally spied a small town that was definitely Rosarian, he was more than ready to risk if for a bit of warmth and a meal for the man who’d followed him all this way. 

        Knowing such remote places were often mistrustful, Dion tried to look as nonthreatening as one could while carrying a lance.  He was a bit surprised a place like this would still be inhabited with the Blight a mere half dozen miles away.  That said, it was already affecting things here.  The buildings were all dusty and gray on one side where the wind had blown dirt in from Blighted lands.  With dwindling trees for resources, many of the buildings were in obvious disrepair, shutters or doors barely hanging in place and boards threatening to succumb to gravity with too strong a breeze.  Terence, who had never truly seen the effects the Blight could have on a town close enough, looked around with sharp, analyzing eyes.  Dion, somewhat to his chagrin, thought little of it.  The world he’d left behind was far worse than this.  By the end, it didn’t much matter how close or far towns like this were to the Blight; everything looked much like this.  The years had done little to dim his memory of it.

        They made their way down the road slowly.  Eyes were already following them from hidden places all around the town and fields.  He could feel it tickling the back of his neck.  When they crossed into the town, those eyes were no longer in the shadows.  A group of men were scattered with deliberate space between them around the area of the village well, watching Dion and Terence’s every step with hands near swords.  A set of window shutters closed swiftly on a house where the women and children were likely hiding away from the strangers they assumed to be a threat.  A large, burly man stepped forward to confront them on behalf of the village.

        “You’re a long way from civilization here,” he drawled.  It wasn’t an outright threat, but Terence tensed all the same.  “What’s your business?”

        “Forgive me for our sudden approach,” Dion answered.  “We meant no harm.  My companion and I have made quite the journey.  I hoped we might impose for a warm meal and a place to sleep for the night.  We’ve little coin, but if there is aught we could do in lieu of payment, we would be happy to do so.”  The large man looked him up and down carefully.  They’d found cloaks among the provisions Amelia provided them and both did their best to keep most identifying features hidden beneath them.  There was little hiding some things, though, like Dion’s lance and the fact they were wearing armor of some type.

        “You talk like lords.  Carry yourself life ‘em too.  Saw his grace ride through once.  You got the same stature.”

        “We are not lords, I fear.”  Not exactly a lie, not anymore.  Or so Dion readily assumed.  How could they be much of anything anymore?  When last he found himself in a position so similar to this, with nothing of the home he loved left to him, it nearly tore him apart.  Now, the relative lack of strings was oddly liberating.

        “Military, then?”

        “We were,” Terence spoke up.  “No more.”  A few of the men bristled at that, assuming them deserters.  Not entirely inaccurate, he supposed.  The burly man, however, turned them a sympathetic eye.

        “Deserters, eh?”  Neither clarified.  To explain would mark them and this man seemed to understand.  The door of the building Dion suspected hid the women and children flew open suddenly, a rail-thin older woman walking out imperiously.  The woman clearly commanded respect enough for half those gathered to nod their heads in her direction.  She did not rush nor raise her voice, letting her presence do much of the talking for her.  If he was anyone but the son of an emperor, Dion might have thought it impressive.

        “We cannot allow it, Caenil.  Threats to the village must be addressed immediately.  Everything points to something coming.  There has been far too much unrest in recent days and the arrival of deserter strangers who will not even introduce themselves can be nothing good.”  Dion fought himself to keep a neutral stance in the face of her fear.  And what may have been a veiled threat.  Still, his hand flexed just a little tighter around his lance. 

        “Madame Loreen is right,” one of the men agreed.  “They could be Bearers trying to hide!”  A couple other men agreed.  Now Terence stiffened.  There was no way to comfort him without calling attention to themselves.  But the very real truth Dion, and likely Terence as well, suddenly realized in that moment was that they were so focused on getting away from their pursuers that they’d been careless.  Had Dion been caught, the threat of a brand was a serious possibility that he never once considered.

        “That’s enough!” Caenil bellowed sternly.  “I refuse to go against the Archduke’s edict.  There will be no branding today no matter who walks into Hanover.  Try it and you’ll receive a different kind of brand from my own forge, understand?”  That cowed them all into submission, even Madame Loreen.  The phrasing was curious, however.

        “Forgive me if I overstep.  May I ask to what decree you refer?  I am afraid we have heard naught of import in recent weeks.”

        “Imagine you wouldn’t.  By decree of Archduke Elwin Rosfield, all Bearers in the Duchy are free men and women.  Happened almost three weeks ago.”

        “What?” Dion breathed.  “By the light, they actually did it.”  They’d heard the rumors of Rosaria in recent years.  Every one gave Dion more incentive to push harder for Sanbreque to find a humanity they long ago abandoned.  This was not the small step of an eccentric nation that left everyone confused.  With this, they changed everything.  Every nation would be coming for them and they would stand against it alone.  Terence looked to him with wide eyes.  He, too, knew what this meant.  The outlaws had made their dreams in the Bennumere reality.  And even more improbably, they convinced their father to do it.  A father that actually listened to the words of his son.  Jealousy flared down deep and he stamped it back down.  This wasn’t the time.

        “You boys come with me,” Caenil said.  “I’ll take care of you.”

        “You cannot risk it!” Madame Loreen cried sternly.  “I forbid it!”  Caenil sighed heavily.

        “Loreen, a new day’s comin’.  I respect you and your wisdom, but these lads are too exhausted to hurt much of anything anyway.  Besides, we’ve got Guardians comin’ soon unless you plan to turn them away at the gates too.  They’ll help keep them in line if they try something, and I don’t expect they will.  Don’t like it?  Then stay away from the forge for a couple days.”  Madame Loreen, clearly not used to this kind of treatment, spluttered a bit, turning an unbecoming shade of red in anger.  Caenil ignored it.  “Come along, lads.”

        Fearing there was little alternative without making things worse, Dion followed.  Caenil led them to a house further into the little town.  On one side under an open shelter was an impressive forge.  The coals still retained their bright hue from whatever he’d been working on before Dion and Terence were spotted.  The other side of the house had a similar shelter except with three walls, all with various arms and implements hanging in case of need.  The house itself was nothing special, just a small whitewashed building that had fewer structural problems, likely due to Caenil’s forge.  Right now it looked like a gift from Greagor.  Or he hoped it was.  There was still the chance this would not end well.  Keeping his guard up just in case, Dion stepped through the door after Caenil.

        “Set your gear down anywhere.  I’ll get you something to eat.”

        “You have my deepest gratitude for this,” Dion said with a small bow of his head.  Somewhat reluctantly, they removed their cloaks and placed their weapons out of the way by the door.

        “Yeah, well, easy to see you don’t belong out here.  Sanbreque hasn’t exactly been a friend to Rosaria in a long while.”  Terence sucked in a breath, but Caenil continued stirring a pot on the hearth.  “Easy, son.  Those cloaks couldn’t cover everything.  Pretty easy to spot if you know what you’re looking for.  And the lance?  Dead giveaway.”  Unique to Sanbreque or not, Dion was not giving up his weapon to go unnoticed. 

        “You are kind to those you would consider an enemy, then,” Terence said.

        “Not my enemy.  You two are running from something.  And no,” he held up a hand, “I ain’t askin’.  Don’t want to know.  I just know that look.  Not to mention most people don’t show up here from the direction of the Blight.  That’s some desperation right there.”  With a look and a shrug that said he’s not wrong towards Terence, they took the seats Caenil offered them.

        Silently the blacksmith made each of them a cup of something almost tea-like.  Dion had certainly never had this before.  It was thicker and more bitter than any tea he’d ever had.  He couldn’t decide if he actually liked it or not, but it was warm so he didn’t dismiss the hospitality.  Soon after Caenil slid each of them a plate of stew.  The silence was a bit awkward as they ate.  Caenil didn’t want to know, they didn’t offer.  Propriety dictated he make some kind of conversation, but he was more focused on his food at the moment and Caenil didn’t seem to mind.  Once finished, though, he thought perhaps he could find a few answers.

        “The Archduke truly freed Bearers?”

        “Aye.  Not everyone is taking it well.  Only thing keeping rebellion from breaking out is everyone’s respect for him.  Man’s trying to erase too much history with one stroke of his pen.”

        “And you would still harbor us despite others thinking we might be Bearers?” Terence asked.  Caenil shrugged and sipped his tea-like drink.

        “Can’t say I’ve got a lot of love for Bearers.  I’m just as biased as the next man.  But I do respect the Archduke.  Respect him more than I fear Bearers.”

        “We are neither of us Bearers should that help set your mind at ease,” Dion said.  Caenil set his empty cup down perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary.

        “Too late now even if you are.  Anyway, Loreen might’ve let it go were it only that.  Couple days ago the ground started shaking.  Didn’t do much but sway some pots and drying herbs hanging, but now she’s got it in her head that it’s some bad omen.  Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.  Doesn’t much matter this close to the Blight.  We all know our time is numbered here anyway.” 

        “Is that why you called upon these Guardians you spoke of?”

        “Guardians of the Flame.  Group of Shields that let us call on them for jobs we can’t handle alone.  But not exactly, no.  That would be the third reason Loreen is too scared to listen.  Some bizarre flying monster’s been spotted around the area.  Never seen its like.  Don’t need to get up close to see no one here is a match for it, but the Guardians love that sort of thing.  Bunch of crazy fools if you ask me, but they do good work.  Anyway, enough of that.  I got a couple pallets up in the loft.  Go get yourselves some sleep.”

        “I owe—”

        “We’ll talk about what you owe me later.  If you could see yourselves right about now you’d understand.  Pair of you look like your about to drop any second.”  The stern look in his eye would allow for no argument, so Dion reluctantly nodded.

        “Thank you.”

        They climbed up the ladder and decided to trust that they would be safe enough to at least remove their armor.  After the welcome they received, Dion sincerely considered keeping it on just in case.  But at this point he was just too tired to care anymore.  The call of a warm pallet was far too inviting.  Aches he didn’t know he’d been ignoring sprung up everywhere the moment he laid down.  The instinct to keep a watch begged him to stay awake; the exhaustion of his body didn’t agree.  Within moments he fell to a dreamless sleep, just barely noticing Terence covering his hand with his own.

        When he woke, the sun was shining through the window in the loft.  Several minutes of him blearily looking around at his surroundings finally culminated in the realization that he’d slept not only through the afternoon and night, but most of the morning too.  He couldn’t recall a time he’d ever done that without a serious injury causing it.  Momentary panic spread through him when he rolled over and Terence wasn’t there.  Dion jolted upright searching for him.  Just in front of the ladder was a plate of food and drink.  Somehow he knew that was Terence’s doing and the panic faded.  He could almost hear him ordering Dion to eat before going anywhere.  For once, he listened to that demand.

        After eating he descended the ladder.  His armor was neatly placed on a chair at the table, shined to gleaming and the small dents repaired.  His lance had also had some attention given to it.  Terence’s doing, no doubt.  Armor likely wasn’t needed here.  If they made it through the night, he doubted anyone would do anything now.  It was a comfort in his uncertainty, though, so he put it on anyway.  The air was warm and a bit humid, just as he remembered Rosaria being the few times he’d been here.  The town seemed to be operating normally after the excitement of their arrival.  Some seemed to be giving Caenil’s house and forge a wider berth, but no one was holed up in their homes for fear and the children were playing outside.  He took that as a good sign.  The sound of hammer on metal drew his attention toward the forge where he found Terence helping Caenil as best he could.

        “’Bout time you woke up,” Caenil grumbled between swings.

        “Dion!  Feel better?”  Terence swiped at the sweat falling off his brow with the hem of his shirt.

        “Your man here’s already settled your stay last night, never you worry.”  Dion shot Terence a reproachful look.

        “Would that you had woken me to help.”

        “After all you did on our journey here, it was long overdue that I contribute,” Terence argued.  “You more than needed the rest.”  At that Caenil cleared his throat.

        “I’ve got things squared for now.  Why don’t you go inside and take a breather.  Looks like you’ve got some talkin’ to do.”  The blacksmith titled his head towards the building when they hesitated, Dion slightly longer than Terence who grasped his shoulder and pulled him away as if he knew exactly what the man had been talking about.  Once inside, Terence poured a cup of water for himself and chugged it down without speaking.

        “Do we need to speak of something?” Dion asked around a nervous lump in his throat.

        “We do.  Although considering I’ve barely said good morning I suppose it could wait a while longer.”

        “That’s alright.  Continue.”  Dion leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, wary of what Terence needed to say.  Doubly so when he heard the sigh that escaped him when he sat in a chair and leaned heavily on his knees.  It was a struggle to contain the irrational fear trying to spread through him.

        “I have been attempting to find a way to say this for days.  All that time to ourselves and I could never think of the right words or will myself to begin even if it were wrong.”  He looked up to hold Dion’s gaze, clueless as to how much his heart was now pounding with nerves.  “I know you wished to care for me on our journey here and I allowed it given all that has happened.  But that needs to stop, Dion.  We were careless in our travels and I did not consider how much so until talk of Bearers came up yesterday.  Had any seen your abilities, you could have been recognized or branded.  It should have been me taking the risk of being seen.  I could not live with you being harmed in an effort to protect me like that.” 

        “I assure you I was cautious.  I did not call on Bahamut but once or twice out of dire need,” he replied argumentatively.  The fact that he’d been thinking much the same yesterday was a distant memory at the moment.

        “This is not just about the possibility of a brand.  It is the late nights when you woke me later than you should.  The number of times you tried to force half your own meal upon me.  The nights you gave me your own cloak despite the cold.  The times we stopped earlier than we should because you thought I looked tired but lied and said it was you so that I would agree.”  Dion scoffed and looked away, unable to hold his firm gaze any longer or put up much of a fight. 

        “Here I had hoped you might not have noticed,” he whispered.  He felt like a child caught in the larder.  He should have known Terence would see through him.  Deep down, he probably did and simply ignored it.

        “How could I have failed to notice?  I also noticed what those acts meant to you after returning your memory which is why I allowed it to continue as long as I did.”  It was true.  After that day he’d found it difficult to stray too far or allow too much stress to burden Terence’s shoulders.  He only went as far as he had to and he only managed to do that because it was helping.  Most importantly, though, he’d enjoyed it.  So much had they always had to hide from anyone that might look their direction, both now and in Dion’s past.  He reveled in being able to so openly care for him.  Maybe that was in part why he found this to be a liberating experience.

        “Have I overreacted then?”  Terence quickly stood and stepped in close, laying a firm hand on Dion’s crossed arms.

        “Of course you have.  I have done the same.  Our situation is complicated and there is no guide for navigating it.  What I do know is that this between us will never be what you remember it being.  I fervently hope that gives us the chance to make it better.  But to do that, you must let me help you.  I want to be beside you now rather than behind.”  He squeezed the hand on Dion’s arms while the other reached up to stroke a thumb across his cheek.  “Can you allow me that?”  It was easy to get lost in the depths of Terence’s brown eyes when they held such conviction.  Conviction that hid some level of uncertainty.  Dion turned his hand over to hold Terence’s.

        “I will do my best.  And when I inevitably succumb to overprotection once more, I shall trust you will scold me for it again.”  Terence smiled in earnest, the faint uncertainty vanishing.

        “If you do the same.  As I said, I am not blameless.  I can recognize my own overbearing caution in insisting I accompany you to meet with your father.”  Quickly leaning forward, he sealed the agreement with a gently kiss.

        “Monster!  Monster!”  The child’s terrified screaming broke them apart and had them reaching for weapons in a matter of moments.

        They ran out the door to see the screaming child running as fast as their legs could carry them through the narrow street in search of someplace safe.  Dion ran, knowing Terence was right behind him.  There was little question what was happening once they crossed the town square.  People ran in every direction away from some kind of danger on the edge of town.  Just on the outskirts flew a monstrous creature Dion had never seen before.

        “Is that…an eye? Terence asked with strained incredulity.

        “With wings, it would appear.”

        “You’ve never seen one?”  Dion hoisted his lance, preparing to engage.  He wasn’t about to let the people here suffer just because they didn’t like strangers.

        “I have not.”  The creature quickly took notice of the two people not running away and started drawing aether to attack. 

        “Dion, there is something I’ve never been able to say to you!” Terence shouted as he danced away from a laser shot from the enemy.  The attack missed, but did hit one of the buildings behind them.  Trying to draw the monster’s attention away from town, they both made for the fields.

        “Is it truly so important?” Dion shouted back as they ran.

        “Only that I hate it when we face an enemy you have never seen!”  Dion laughed as he dug his heel in, spun, and thrust his lance forward into the still advancing creature.  Terence was quick with a follow-up slash before it could recover.

        This creature was little short of a nuisance.  Often too fast to pin down and all too willing to throw bizarre magic at them, it took a few near-misses to figure out a better strategy.  Dion and Terence were as compatible a team on the battlefield as they were off it.  Dion had more reach and agility, Terence more raw strength and close-up defense.  Together they could easily overtake enemies both close up and further away.  That tactic was less effective here.  The creature was simply too quick and erratic.  What was effective, however, was utilizing Dion’s speed and agility to maneuver the creature toward Terence, who then could often strike it from behind.  Also a benefit was Dion being able to feel the pull of aether when it tried to use magic.  That saved both their lives on one particular occasion.  Dion swept his lance down toward a wing while Terence stabbed from behind.  Then he felt the pull.  The creature began quivering from the mass of aether surrounding it, a far greater amount than it had been using.

        “Get back!” he cried.

        Ever keen to those kinds of orders, Terence immediately retreated, going further back when Dion motioned for it.  He had to keep this monster in place for whatever was about to happen.  All he knew for certain was that it would be big.  He made a few more half-hearted attacks, just enough to keeps its attention, while waiting for the split second the aether would cut out before the attack.  When that moment happened, he Jumped.  Sailing through the air he was never more thankful that he’d told Terence to get so far back.  A wide swath of their battleground was covered in earthen spikes that could easily kill any man unlucky enough to be caught in the middle of them.  He landed on the ground beside Terence just as the spikes cleared the ground.

        “By the light,” Terence muttered, staring at the ground where the spikes had been.  “I’ve never seen such an attack.”

        “Do not lose focus,” Dion chided him.  Terence nodded and they resumed their efforts.

        The battle was proving longer than Dion would have liked.  His lance glided over the thick hide of the creature too often to do serious damage and he was desperately trying to hold Bahamut back this close to those who already feared him.  Terence’s sword fared little better.  Maybe they would need Bahamut to finish this after all before they both tired too far.  After the earth-erupting attack, the creature became even more difficult to pin, able to disappear in the blink before a Jump landed.  Then the battle took a turn.  Aether began condensing again as it had the last time.  Once again he told Terence to get back, but so focused was he on keeping the creature’s attention he didn’t realize how close they’d gotten to the village.  Moments before the magic burst forth, he heard Terence shout indistinctly.  Worried, he risked a look to find out why.

        On the other side of their battlefield, a child watched from just outside the village proper.  How he had gotten so close with no one noticing was anyone’s guess.  Terence tried to get him to move but the child was frozen stiff in sheer terror at what he was witnessing.  This attack would hit him.  They both knew that.  They had to do something but If Dion moved closer, there was no telling who would get caught in the attack.  The radius was too great to risk more innocents.  He hated being caught in situations like this.  Wanting to help, needing to stay.  This one was on Terence.  Thank Greagor Terence recognized it too.  He ran for the child as fast as he could barely reaching him before the aether cut off.  Dion had to Jump out of the way or risk being impaled in an attack he was certain he could not survive.  From the air he watched Terence shove the child roughly out of the way, one of the spikes catching the side of his outstretched arm and throwing him to the side with the force of it.

        “Terence!” he shouted, running towards him the instant his boots touched the ground.  Terence pushed himself up onto his uninjured arm, hissing at the wound on his sword arm when Dion dropped to a knee beside him.

        “I’m alright, Dion.  Only a scratch.  I will get the child—”  Terence’s eyes went wide at something over Dion’s shoulder, and Dion had a very good guess what it was. 

        Every muscle tensed knowing that creature was getting closer by the second.  As much as he wanted to turn and fight, Terence kept his gaze with an intensity he knew to be a message.  Wait.  Terence slid his injured hand over Dion’s lance lying on the ground between them, silently urging him to understand the plan he was formulating.  Dion preferred to face his enemies head-on.  It took incredible strength to now keep his back to one.  He clenched his jaw in hopes of easing the tension crawling over him like eels in a pond.  Daring a brief look away from Terence’s eyes, which were the only thing keeping him steady in this situation, he saw his sword lying not far away.  He knew exactly what he needed to do.  This plan could end this creature if they executed it right.  It all hinged on Dion not turning around.  He had to wait for the right moment, the moment Terence told him to move.  He took a deep breath.  Terence trusted him not to turn and he, in turn, trusted Terence to watch his back.  The presence of that creature inching closer had his hand trembling in anticipation.

        “Ready?” Terence breathed as softly as possible.  Could this creature even hear?

        “On your mark,” he replied just as quietly.

        A tense moment passed.  The only warning before Terence moved was a quick breath.  Terence had never fully managed the speed of most dragoons, one reason he carried a sword instead of lance.  This moment was probably the closest Dion had ever seen him come to it.  He gripped the lance and pushed himself up in the same blink Dion rolled away from him and towards his abandoned sword.  Just as Dion took hold of the hilt the creature shrieked in pain.  The lance in Terence’s hand pierced the eye in the center as deeply as he could manage and he twisted hard.  Sword in hand, Dion thrust it into the eye beside the lance pulling another shriek from the creature.  Just for good measure he wove a bit of light through the blade then placed his free hand over Terence’s to do the same for the lance.  He heard Terence gasp lightly as the light flowed around his fingers and into the steel.  Something burned inside the creature and together they both ripped their weapons free, black blood oozing out of the wounds.  It shuddered, cried out once more, and finally fell unmoving to the ground.

        “Are you alright?”  Dion grabbed Terence’s arm to inspect the wound, earning him another pained hiss at the movement. 

        “It will be fine.”  Terence tried to reassure him but Dion had his doubts.  Thank Greagor it didn’t look too deep.  It was a long, jagged, nasty looking tear, though.

        “We need to get this seen to.”  He pulled Terence to his feet carefully and held him tightly. 

        “Please, Dion.  Calm yourself.”  The ready retort he had on his tongue vanished when they turned around.  Caenil stood several feet away, the boy who’d been in danger peaking out from behind his leg curiously.

        “Most would get to know the people to prove they were harmless,” Caenil taunted them with arms crossed across his chest.  Then he snickered.  “Then again, you aren’t most people, are you?”  Several others were beginning to peak out of doors and windows now that the fighting was over.  “Come on.  We’ll take a look at that wound.” 

        Caenil led the way back into town.  They didn’t get far before three women ran toward Dion and Terence, poking and examining Terence’s wound.  Several children ran to fetch their weapons, two working together to carry Dion’s lance.  After that it was all a blur.  People asking questions like where they learned to fight, what their names were, where they came from, where they were going, had they ever faced a creature like this.  Eventually he relented to admitting their first names when the onslaught got overwhelming.  Caenil pushed back against the most intrusive questions.  That helped a bit.  The women saw to Terence’s wound, though they shooed Dion out of the room while they did it when he wouldn’t give them enough room for their liking.  The whole thing was uncomfortable.  In the midst of so many people and questions, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.  He wouldn’t get the chance to figure it out, either.  As soon as Terence’s wound had been cleaned, stitched, and bound, they were both dragged off to another house for a meal.  Polite refusals landed upon deaf ears and soon enough they were sitting at a table with all kinds of things being brought out.  A wine they said was for special occasions, fresh bread, honey the woman’s husband had collected himself, and a variety of other things Dion lost track of.  Once they opened up, the people of Hanover were quite warm and friendly.  Perhaps a little too much so at the moment.  Just as they managed to excuse themselves from the impromptu meal, another resident insisted on serving them tea at his house.  By the time evening finally fell and they were blessedly able to excuse themselves entirely, they returned to Caenil’s house with an armful of pastries, meats, cheeses, and a bottle of mead.

        “Think you made an impression,” Caenil snickered on the way.

        “I know not why,” Dion countered.  “We did nothing so deserving of such a response.”  The blacksmith eyed them, reading something in the statement Dion didn’t catch.

        “Maybe that’s true of where you came from.  Out here we’re just poor folks tryin’ to get by as best we can.  That thing was somethin’ we didn’t think anyone could take out.  Fast and used magic to boot?  Once I saw it I thought those Guardians we called on were on their way to their dooms.”  Dion scoffed uncomfortably.

        “It was merely the right thing to do.  Anyone with some martial skill would have done the same.”

        “You sure ‘bout that?”  He glanced at Caenil in confusion.  They lived in Rosaria, did they not?  The place doing all they can for who they can?  Caenil shook his head.  “When’s the last time you heard of someone stickin’ their neck out for someone not their own kin?  You’re from Sanbreque and you just saved the people of a backwater Rosarian village.  I know what I said last night and I still ain’t askin’ questions, but I can put a few things together.  Ain’t normal, this.”  Was it not?  Dion had been quite focused on trying to sway the court of Oriflamme to his way of thinking in recent years, so he hadn’t been able to help others as he might have liked.  Then again, he hadn’t been able to back then either for following his father’s orders and being the war machine of Sanbreque.  That didn’t mean he would look away from a problem for a lack of vested interest.  A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  Maybe that was the fanatical influence of the outlaws at play.  The way they looked at the world was so wholly unique that it would take anyone aback if they were not prepared.

        “I once knew a man so determined to make the world a better place he created his own code to live by.  Those who followed him also followed his code regardless of what the rest of the realm would say.  The realms deemed him an outlaw at best, insane and dangerous at worst.  Yet I found that he wanted nothing more than to help whomever he could however he could.  He had a certain awkward charisma that inspired others to do the same.  Mayhap I learned it from him.”  Caenil eyed him once again but said nothing.  Terence, though, nudged him slightly with his good arm, smile on his face knowing of whom he spoke. 

        After all the visitations, food, and offerings of the day, Dion and Terence were exhausted once more, and Terence more than a little in pain.  Not that he would readily admit it.  Caenil said he had some work he needed to finish so the house was theirs for a while.  Frankly Dion was glad for it.  He liked the blacksmith quite a bit, but today had ended up being a great deal of meeting and greeting that he was frankly no longer accustomed to.  Weeks out in the Blight was bound to make a day like this overwhelming.  He took some bittersweet pleasure in helping Terence up the ladder to the loft and then changing the dressing.  The wound looked redder now.  He wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or if it was simply from the treatment.  He cursed himself for not knowing more of the healing arts.  This might well be the first time he considered how unfair it was that he was unable to utilize the same healing magic Bearers with an affinity for light had.  He was the Warden of Light!  How could he not do something Bearers could?  The answer, at a guess, was that being a Dominant made it too powerful.  That too much light or aether or something was required and the human body could not sustain it.  Which naturally also made him remarkably jealous of the Phoenix at the moment too.  Somehow he was the only Dominant Dion knew could heal.

        “What has you so focused?”  Terence leaned against the wall letting him finish the clean dressing that, if he were honest, probably didn’t need changed just yet.  Dion gave him a breathy, half-laugh.

        “Thinking how jealous I am of the Phoenix.  Of Joshua.  He could heal this without thought.  Bearers with my own affinity could do something.  Yet not I.”

        “I think I would prefer you not use aether you do not need to in order to heal me.”  He cocked his head thoughtfully.  “Do you want to be able to heal?  Beyond this present moment.”  Dion tied the bandage and sat back with a snort.

        “It is largely irrelevant what I want.  Bahamut was not made for such things.”

        “Forgive me, Dion, but would you know if he was?  You have ever been your father’s tool against his enemies.  That cannot allow you the time to find a secret talent, can it?”  Terence chuckled to himself.  “Not that I understand aught of magic, aether, or Dominants.”  It was touching to know that Terence thought so highly of him that he believed Dion might be able to learn to heal.  Nice though it was, he had sincere doubts.  But right now he had more immediate interests, namely pulling Terence in close and letting him get comfortable to rest that wound of his.

        “The gratitude of the people here was nigh overwhelming,” he commented softly as a means of filling the silence.

        “Agreed.  At best I’d thought a simple ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.”  Dion hummed an agreement and pressed a kiss to Terence’s crown.  That uncomfortable feeling was slowly returning now that they were talking about it.  Why?  Why was it so uncomfortable?  Or was ‘foreign’ the better word?

        “I do not think I have ever experienced something quite so…personal,” he admitted.  That was it, wasn’t it?  Everything he’d done had been in the upper echelons where he could be most useful.  And they never thanked him for his efforts, especially not for fighting.  Lost in the thought, he didn’t notice Terence shift until he placed a hand on his cheek to turn him towards him. 

        “Share your thought with me?”  Dion covered Terence’s hand with his own, noting the frown that pulled the corners of his eyes down with concern.

        “Simply a realization.”  Terence was not letting him go so easily.  With a small sigh he relented.  “Fighting is expected of me.  None thank me for fulfilling that expectation, certainly none at court.  Bahamut is meant to be a weapon.  The only comments I receive upon it come from my refusal to be such.  For someone to think I’ve done something out of the norm…  I do not know what to make of it.  To thank me for putting my life on the line when that has ever been my only duty is so contrary to everything I know.”

        “This you did because it was the right thing to do, not because you were ordered.  We rarely have the opportunity.” 

        “Mayhap we should form our own Guardians upon our return.”  The joke fell flat on his lips knowing they may never return.  Or if they do it may never be the same.  “Bahamut is one of the strongest Eikons,” he said to deflect his own uncertainty.  “If we could do some good with him before he is gone, we may yet leave this world in a better place.”  Terence smoothed his thumb over Dion’s cheek and leaned in for a kiss, a longer and more appropriate one than their interrupted moment that morning.  When he broke away, he yawned and tucked himself into Dion’s shoulder once more. 

        “Strength means many things, my prince.  A fighter need not always be such.”

        Dion didn’t answer.  He sat there for a long time, the silence barely registering in the din his mind created.  He was a warrior at heart.  This was not something he claimed with shame or wishing to be other.  But could he be more?  Could he do more than he believed?  Everyone believed that an Eikon’s abilities were known to their Dominant.  But Dion knew from experience that those abilities presented themselves as he was prepared to use them.  Had he known of a Gigaflare as a child, he could have burned himself to dust accidentally using it before he was ready for so much power.  What if he could still learn more?  Maybe he should talk to Joshua about healing.  It may not work.  It may not be something Bahamut is capable of.  If nothing else, though, it may just give him some new ideas.  Bahamut could be more now than he’d ever been.  Dion had made sure he did not turn into Sanbreque’s greatest weapon this time.  So without that, who did he want Bahamut to be in this world?

Chapter Text

        It was quite literally a breath of fresh air to finally cross the threshold of the Blight.  Ifrit emerging from his cage to slam into him was both expected and something he was more or less used to.  Clive only closed his eyes against the sensation for a moment to adapt.  The feeling faded quickly as Ifrit settled back into the space he was meant to.  Joshua and Jote rode ahead of them far enough that he only occasionally caught glimpses of them.  They were all within shouting distance if anything came up so there wasn’t much reason to stick together necessarily.  It still made Clive wonder if the space was for him and Jill or his brother and Jote.  This trip had changed all of them in some way.  That alone was probably reason enough to spread out.  They needed time to process before returning home.  Clive just hoped home was alright.  The fear that they may not be there had lessened over the course of this venture, but it wasn’t gone completely.  Not yet.  It wouldn’t be until he saw Rosalith once more.  Maybe not until he saw everyone safe and well. 

        That would still be several days from now.  It was a few days between here and Rosalith anyway and they needed to take a detour on their way there.  Someone had begged for more time to study the ruins and, like he always did, Clive caved to the whims of his little brother.  While their rations hadn’t run out, they would before getting home.  Luckily there was a small town that was just a short ride away from their intended route where they should be able to purchase a few things.  Hanover, he was pretty sure the name was.  It was a remote place that had already been abandoned to the Blight by the time he was freed from the Empire last time, so he hadn’t been there before.  Joshua mentioned seeing the ruins of it once and thought it to have been founded as a haven for Northerners many years ago.  Clive had to admit that made him just slightly nervous about the reception they may receive.  Even if they don’t give their full names, he and Joshua in particular did not exactly hide their heritage and not all Northerners were so accepting of the Rosarian ruling house.

        He looked over at Jill, finding her smiling softly observing the growing greenery around them.  She was so much brighter and more confident, and she never lacked for either in his estimation.  To him she already shone like moonlight.  Now she bordered on the sun.  Whatever it was she hoped to find, she’d found it.  Yes, she’d told him all the details.  He still hated what happened to her and that he wasn’t there.  But she’d needed this, all of this.  She connected with her own heritage in a way she’d never been able to and it showed.  Something about her was just slightly different.  He loved her even more for it.  Although now that he thought about it, maybe he was simply biased because of the ear cuffs she so proudly wore.  Days had passed and he still wasn’t used to seeing it. 

        “You are staring, Clive,” she said softly with a teasing grin that she was quick to turn on him. 

        “Is it so wrong to stare at my fiancée?”  Her cheeks turned just a bit pink and she touched one of the ear cuffs thoughtfully. 

        “It seems more real now.  So far away from everyone it felt we all lived in a dream we hesitated to wake from.  Now it’s real.  This is real.”

        “Is that a terrible thing?”  Jill scoffed at him.

        “Of course not.  I wonder how our friends will react.  How Father will react.  Not to mention a few court maidens who have been desperately trying to earn your favor.”  Clive started at that comment.  Who would that even be?  Jill laughed, her full laugh, not the one she tried to cover for politeness.  He loved hearing it.  “Do not try too hard to figure that one out, my flame.  Any who truly knows you sees perfectly well that you pay them no mind.  It only makes them try harder, naturally.”

        “Perhaps you should point it out to me, then, so that I know what to be wary of.  I cannot have court maidens hoping to position themselves making a mockery of my lady.”  He smiled and she laughed once more.

        “Never you worry for that.  I think your refusal by obliviousness does plenty when they see you with me.” 

        “Shall I rub it in at the next event, then?  Dare I kiss you as only an outlaw would right in the middle of everyone?”

        “Hm.  Or perhaps I could claim you as only a Northern savage would dare.”  Clive looked to her sharply hearing those damned words his mother used to call her.  But Jill was all smiles.  There was no trace of anything but levity in twisting them to her own purposes.  It was surprisingly infectious. 

        “This will certainly make those awkward and horribly dull affairs much more entertaining,” he laughed. 

        He hated being on parade at those twice-a-year functions the castle was all but forced to hold.  They’d had to do it when he was young, too.  The parade was even worse then.  At least now he was able to attend them in his own way, which often meant sticking near Jill or Joshua while the rest of the court mingled and gossiped.  The three of them offered their own private commentary.  Given their circumstances, it felt even more irrelevant now than it had.  They were actively trying to change the world and had already defeated a god yet here they were forced into small talk with nobles who could never possibly understand any of it.  True, it was a very useful way to spread their ideas especially early on.  But there was only so much of that they could take.  On more than one occasion their private commentary on the guests they watched forced Uncle Byron and Lord Murdoch to take their leave to catch their breath from trying not to laugh too hard.  That certainly made things more interesting and, dare he say, fun.  Causing a scene like that would be talked about for years to come.  Founder, he really did develop a flair for the dramatic as an outlaw, didn’t he?

        “You know, I’ve just had a thought.”  Jill nodded ahead of them where they could just spot Joshua and Jote before they rounded a bend.  “The next event will mark the end of many things.  The Lord Marquess has always been unavailable, even if none knew it.  Now the heir to the throne is too.”

        “The Northern princess as well, lest you forget,” he threw in quickly before taking her bait.  “They do seem much closer the last few days, don’t they?” Closer, yes, but Clive wasn't sure exactly how much or what had changed. It was like they'd finally decided to show their close friendship to the world.

        “Joshua never paid the maidens much mind himself.  Unavailable in a different way, I suppose.  I guarantee he will ask Jote to attend, though.  We may not need to create a scene ourselves in that case.  They will do it for us.”

        “Do you think?”  Jill smiled mischievously.  That was a look she did not don often.

        “Trust me, Clive.  We may wish to sit this one out and watch what happens.”  Clive didn’t completely know what that meant, but it was apparent Jill knew or suspected something he didn’t and she was better with that sort of thing than he was. 

        “As you say, my lady.  I am more than happy to let people speak of someone else for a while.”

        “I wholeheartedly agree.”

        Not long after, the town of Hanover appeared before them.  This close to the Blight it was unsurprisingly dingy and somewhat run-down.  Shutters and doors barely clung to their hinges, wooden slats needed replaced, the ground was losing the life it gave.  It would be difficult to stay here much longer.  He made a mental note to try sending a few supplies this direction just to help out a bit.  Surreptitiously, if he could manage it.  Anyone living this close to the Blight would be proud, too proud to accept charity.  Maybe he could convince one or two of Uncle Byron’s merchant acquaintances to conveniently take a wrong turn and end up here instead with their goods. 

        The sight of the town, though, made his thoughts turn to a much more dismal place even than this.  Supplies would only help for so long.  They needed to do something about the Mothercrystals.  They’d spent years preparing people for a life without magic, and themselves for a rematch with a god.  Sometimes he felt like they were only delaying the inevitable despite having a very good reason to continue waiting.  This was a conversation they all needed to have sooner rather than late.  They were the only ones who could stop the Blight.  The fact was that while they had very good reasons for waiting, more of the land still fell to it every year they did so.  As soon as they made a move, though, Ultima would be there and the secrecy they’d managed to so carefully keep would disappear.  The real battle would begin and, hard as it was, he had to be sure he was ready for that.  But they still needed to talk about it eventually.  They’d done what they set out to do at first; now it was time to start considering the next move.

        He tried to push the thought of Ultima and Mothercrystals aside as he urged Ambrosia forward to catch up with Joshua and Jote.  They only needed a few things, so they shouldn’t be here too long.  Perhaps overnight given the time of day.  If they were lucky they could get a bit of news about the Duchy while they were at it. 

        “You’re late.”  An old woman sat in front of her house, the first they passed on their way into town, with a pipe in her mouth and a bowl of beans beside her.  She watched them with stern expression around the small puffs of smoke from her pipe.

        “I beg your pardon?” Clive asked.

        “Said you’re late.  Don’t have any need of Guardians now.”  With a confused glance at Clive, Joshua climbed off his chocobo and handed the reigns to Jote.

        “Forgive me, my lady, but might we begin again?  We are no Guardians, though we oft work with them.  However we have been away for quite some time.  We’ve no ready knowledge of recent events.”

        “Hmph.”  The woman shelled a few more beans.  Then blew a cloud of smoke in their general direction before speaking again, continuing to shell beans as she did.  “Wrote to those Guardians afore the earth shook for a creature we en’t never seen.  Guardians didn’t show.  Figured they were too busy with the ground shaking, if they’d seen the letter afore then anyhow.  Then two, three days ago a pair o’ strangers showed up.  Right dirty and ragged, they were.  Brave enough, though.  Thing chased a child outta the fields and those two went chargin’ in without a word.”

        “Were they able to slay the creature?”

        “Aye.  One of ‘em got hurt.  Didn’t look like much at first, but it got infected.  Boys are still here ‘cause of it.”  Joshua turned from the woman to catch Clive’s eye.

        “Where might we find these strangers?”  Her eyes instantly narrowed at the question.

        “Why d’you want ‘em?”

        “Only to offer assistance if we are able.  Gratitude if we are not.”  She studied them a moment longer before relenting.

        “Do watcha want.  Stayin’ with Caenil.  Look for the blacksmith.  One of ‘em went out for stuff what might help with the infection this morning.”

        “Thank you, my lady,” Joshua said with a small bow.  He took the reigns of his chocobo back from Jote and led the bird further into town alongside Clive.  “We owe these men a debt, Brother.”

        “I know.  See what you and Jote can do for him, but do not do anything rash, Joshua.  Please.”  Clive didn’t particularly like the grin his brother flashed him.  It clearly said Clive’s definition of rash and Joshua’s were not  the same.  How was he still surprised by that after all these years?

        “What will you do, then?”  Allowing him to change the subject, Clive looked to Jill.

        “Jill and I will see to provisions as well as these tremors the lady spoke of.  I would prefer to know what she meant.”

        “Yes, that was rather alarming, wasn’t it?”  Joshua crossed his arms in thought.  “Rosaria is not known for unstable ground, nor have I seen the Blight cause such a thing.  Odd, indeed.”  He shook himself out of whatever analysis he’d been doing while Clive and the others dismounted.  Jote immediately grabbed her medicine bag from her saddlebags.

        “Come along, Joshua,” she commanded.  “I can allow you to assist.” 

        “By your leave,” he answered with an amused grin.  Jote would ensure he did nothing too taxing.  That made Clive feel a bit better.

        With that, he and Jill set off to find out what information and supplies they could.  The supplies proved to be the easy part.  They found and purchased the few things they were in need of.  The people were friendly, if guarded.  Towns like this often were.  It was best to simply be polite and brief.  That made gathering information on the tremors more difficult.  The first few people they spoke to had remarkably little to say about anything. 

        “I fear we have been gone too long,” Clive commented after their fourth failed attempt at information.

        “We were concerned about Bearers, not the earth itself trembling beneath our feet.”

        “I wonder how widespread these tremor might have been?”

        “Difficult to say with so few talking.”  Jill huffed a mildly frustrated sigh.  “It would be wrong of us to leave if there was a problem here.  Let’s keep at it.”

        “Agreed.”

        Once more they tried to find out what they could.  Eventually the story began to take shape, small as it was.  Several days ago, the earth shook several times over the course of two days.  It was enough to be noticed and perhaps rattle a few things, but not so much that it even broke a dish.  By evening of the second day there was a longer tremor then they stopped for good.  The only oddity since then was how close the flying creature had gotten to the village and none knew if it was related or not.  If it was, that problem had already been taken care of.  No one seemed willing to describe the creature to know for certain, though.  All they said was that it defied reason and none would believe them.  It didn’t give them much to go on.  Not even those who made their livelihood outside the village had spotted so much as a flower out of place after that.

        “I’ve had a thought,” Jill said after their exhaustive interviews.  One of those they spoke with was kind enough to point them towards a stable that might be willing to keep their chocobos.  Once settled, he and Jill set to work brushing the birds down and so they had been mulling over possibilities while they worked.  Clive paused in his brushing to look up at Jill.  Ambrosia pecked unhappily at his shoulder until his hand started moving once more.

        “I’m sorry, girl.  You need not be so demanding.”  She kwehed indignantly.  “What is your thought, Jill?”  This time he made sure his hand continued brushing.

        “All here said the tremors were small.  We know we did not feel them north of here and so I’m wondering if the center might not be further south along with whatever caused it.”

        “That seems a reasonable guess.”  He didn’t like the idea, but she was probably right.  Further south meant trouble.  A lot of trouble.  “If that is the case, I can only hope it was nothing serious.”

        “Cid and Benedikta were there were it so terrible.  As were Tyler and Wade.  I am sure they could handle anything that came up.”

        “You’re right,” he murmured without conviction.  When he glanced up again Jill was watching him.

        “You do not sound convinced.”

        “I am.  I know they will do all they can for whatever needs doing, but…  I still struggle at times.  Trying to remember that I need not do everything myself is difficult.  Relying on others is much easier in times of peace.  In crisis, or potential crisis, it does not come naturally to me.  Ever do I feel the need to be in the midst of whatever may arise.”

        “You have come a long way to admit such a thing.”  Jill smiled with pride that made the tips of his ears warm and he had to look away from her.  “ I will also feel better knowing all is well.  We should not linger here in any case.”

        “I imagine you will be needing a place to stay the night in either case.”  An older woman stood in the doorway to the stables, holding herself with the authority of a leader in this town.

        “We could easily camp outside your village,” Clive assured her.  “We would not wish to cause problems.”

        “Cause?  Maybe not.  Maybe you can be part of a solution to a small one.  And maybe in return for that I could afford a night’s use of my hay loft.”  Clive stopped brushing Ambrosia to turn to the woman.  This time the chocobo allowed it.

        “We would be grateful for a roof over our head, though I should mention there are four of us.”

        “I know.  I’ve seen you skulking about.”  He bristled at the word but didn’t defend himself.

        “Then I thank you for your generosity.  May I ask your name?”

        “You may call me Madame Loreen.”

        “Then Madame Loreen, how may I assist?”

        It wasn’t difficult to find the blacksmith housing the wounded stranger.  The sound of steel being heated and shaped was never hard to follow.  Joshua and Jote stopped just short of the house they were directed to.  The blacksmith worked diligently at his forge, but it was the other man seated nearby which caught Joshua’s attention.  Cropped brown hair, pieces of silver armor nearby that Joshua assumed was his own, eyes intently focused on his task despite the evident signs of fever even from this distance.  He was pale and sweat stuck his hair to his brow as he polished the armor with one hand, balancing the piece precariously on his knee.  Something was incredibly familiar about him.  He couldn’t quite place it.  He’d seen him somewhere, and seen that intense look he bore.  He was sure of it.

        “I know him,” he told Jote.

        “You do?  From where?”

        “I am not sure.  I know I am correct yet I cannot place it.”

        “Let us hope that is a good turn of fortune rather than ill.”  The man happened to glance up, instantly defensive at finding them staring.

        “We will soon know,” Joshua muttered as they approached.  “Forgive my staring.  I’d the sudden belief we had met before and could not place where.”  The man eyed him critically, then turned that gaze on Jote.  Some protective part of Joshua demanded he step between them to shield her from whatever the man was searching for, but he fought that down.  Whoever this was he was well within his rights to be wary considering he’d just found strangers doing much the same to him.  The banging from the nearby blacksmith stopped suddenly.  Out of his periphery, Joshua could see him take a few steps forward to watch the exchange.  It felt rather protective, much like the questioning from the woman they first spoke to.  Clearly this man and his companion had made quite an impression in their time here. 

        “I should think it unlikely we have met,” the younger man finally said, relaxing his shoulders just slightly, “yet I would be lying to deny a similar belief.”

        “Odd.  Mayhap we might yet discover why.  In the meantime, we heard of your injury against the creature plaguing this village.  It was a brave thing to risk yourself like that.  If you would permit, I would like to help with your wound.”

        “How do you propose to do that?  We’ve already exhausted the available medicine on it.  Only so much to be done, I fear.”

        “That is where your companion has gone, yes?  In search of something more to quell the infection?”  The man chuckled lightly, adjusting the sling around his neck with a wince.

        “I do not know to whom you have been speaking, stranger, but I have no companion.  It is only I here.”  Given what they’d been told, that seemed unlikely.  Why he’d hide that, however, Joshua had little idea.  Clearly it made him uncomfortable to speak of and so Joshua filed the information away for later.  It wasn’t truly so important.

        “Forgive my curiosity.  As it happens my companion here is a physicker without equal and I myself am fairly adept in the healing arts.”  He could swear he heard Jote choke back a giggle.  “All we wish to do is reward your selflessness by doing what we can.”

        “May I ask what it was you fought which injured you so?” Jote asked.  The man huffed at the thought and shook his head.

        “I have doubts you would believe me, but it was quite literally an eye with wings.”  Jote took two quick steps forward before catching herself. 

        “Not good,” Joshua muttered.  An Ahriman.  They were not overly prevalent creatures, thank the Founder, but they were damned difficult to kill and had far too many tricks for his liking.

        “Specifically what wounded you, was it an earthen spike?”

        “Um, yes, actually.”  The man’s eyes were wide with surprise.  “You believe that?”

        “An Ahriman,” Joshua answered.  “I have seen a few.  Vicious creatures the Twins would be better off without.”

        “Joshua.”  Jote said to him, half turning.  Her physicker’s demeanor was squarely in place, but he could sense the tension in her.  “Master Lochlan told me that Ahriman have a unique attack which is almost sure to kill any unlucky enough to be within range.  It has a secondary effect, however.  There is some kind of coating on the spikes it calls forth.  We’ve never been able to retrieve a sample for obvious reasons so I cannot say what it is.  What is known is that it creates severe infections that can kill a man within days.”  Joshua glanced up at the stranger, the blacksmith still hovering nearby.  They both heard every word. 

        “Do you know how far along it is?” he whispered so they could try to keep the fear growing in their audience at bay.

        “Not from here.  I think we have some time if he is strong enough to polish armor.”

        “Good.”  He turned back to the younger man.  “Please, let us help.”

        “I will not refuse a small miracle here, but why go out of your way for such a thing?  We do not know each other.”

        “If you need reason beyond ability, we were told the village wrote to the Guardians of the Flame for assistance and they could not make it in time.  We both aid the Guardians from time to time.  It seems fair to repay their debt to you since we are here.”  Please, allow us this.  Knowing where the infection came from and that it would certainly be a death sentence here increased the urgency.  They needed to save this man if they could.  If not for repayment, then certainly for common decency. 

        “You work with the Guardians?” the blacksmith asked, the first input he’d had in any of their conversation.

        “We do when occasion permits.”  He placed a hand on Jote’s shoulder, taking the opportunity to squeeze lightly just for himself and his own nerves.  “Jote was trained by them, in fact.”

        “You’re from Rosalith, then.”

        “We are.”  His eyes narrowed, looking them both up and down with even more scrutiny than the younger man had.  Joshua kept his cordial demeanor on the outside.  Inside he feared he’d just admitted something he shouldn’t have.  Such Northern villages were often left to their own devices and they preferred it that way.  As a result, few from Rosalith ever ventured there, particularly this close to the Blight. 

        “What was your name again, boy?”

        “Ah, my manners escape me.  My name is Joshua.”  The moment his name left him he thought he might ought have used an alias, even though Jote had said his name once already.  Something clicked in the blacksmith’s mind.  His eyes bulged and he stumbled back a step.  He’d figured out exactly who he was.  Joshua held up his hands hoping to placate the poor man.  “Peace, I beg of you, Master Blacksmith.”

        “But you’re…”

        “I am Joshua.  Nothing more and nothing less than myself here.”  Before the blacksmith could think of anything to say, the younger man started laughing.

        “Forgive my amusement!" he choked out around the sound. "I should have realized it earlier. I had not thought to have such luck.  Dion once told me you were quite adept at making a memorable entrance, my lord. I think he was not mistaken.”  Joshua’s head whipped around so fast something cracked while Terence chuckled weakly once more.

        “What?”

        “My name is Terence.  We met only briefly in Twinside.  Dion is the companion I tried to hide.  You understand, I hope.”

        “Of course!”  Now he remembered.  This man was there every time he met with Dion, lingering in the background.  Or, the foreground the first time.  He and Jote nearly had their own battle right there in the tent.  The Phoenix had been right about Dion’s friend knowing him.  How, exactly, was a question he very much wanted to ask at a better time.  “Well, Terence, under the circumstances I fear I am no longer asking.  Dion is like as not worried sick for you.  Master Blacksmith?  Might we use your home to treat his injury?”  He dazedly nodded, still a bit in shock that the Phoenix was standing right in front of him.  That could go any number of ways, most of which Joshua was inclined to avoid, so he stepped closer to speak softly.  “May I ask your name, Master Blacksmith?”  The woman they’d first spoken to had said it, but it would be more polite to ask the man himself in this case.

        “Caenil.  Your highness.”

        “Master Caenil.  I thank you for taking in my friends when I could not aid them myself.  I would ask discretion, however, both for them and myself.  To be truthful we would all appreciate some anonymity.”

        “Right.  Of course.  Your highness.  Secret’s safe with me.”

        “That is most appreciated.  Truly.”  Hopefully that would stop the rumor mill before it began.  At least long enough for them to leave Hanover.  He should have known better than to mention his healing abilities and his real name in the same space.  He would like to blame it on the distraction of trying to figure out why he knew Terence, but he feared it was more a case of being over-accustomed to not needing to hide it.  “Come now, Terence.  Let’s get you patched up.”

        Terence stood and immediately swayed.  Joshua quickly ducked under his good arm to help him inside.  The degree of fever was evident just by proximity.  How he was sitting upright outside let alone polishing his armor was beyond comprehension.  Once through the door, they got Terence situated in a chair at the table where they both could see clearly and where Jote had easy access to her bag.  With adept fingers she pulled the bandage off.  It was a jagged, angry wound clearly not made by usual means.  Had he not said what happened, and had Joshua not seen those kinds of attacks himself, he would have been at a loss for the cause.  The flesh was ripped more than sliced even though it had been stitched once already.  Around every stitch the skin was red and inflamed.  The wound itself looked like it would start bleeding again at any moment.  A phantom knowledge told Joshua this would be troublesome to heal.  And painful.  Very painful.  Jote scrutinized the wound, prodding it carefully.  Terence hissed at the pressure in one particular spot where a sickening pus dribbled out.

        “It is in the blood,” she announced.  Unsurprising on many counts.  “Over time with the resources of the infirmary I believe I could heal the wound itself.  Even so, I fear you would never wield a sword with this arm again.  There is a distinct possibility that we would need to amputate since the infection has already spread.”

        “I’d hesitated to tell Dion as much, but I’d feared that my best outcome,” Terence admitted mournfully.  His slumped posture said that he knew he wouldn’t survive this without intervention.

        “It is lucky that is not the only option, then,” Jote soothed.  “Joshua, little though I want to admit it, he would be much better served with your aid than mine.”

        “Agreed.”  Terence looked between them rather bewildered.

        “You would let him so easily use the Phoenix?”  Jote sighed, rocked back on her heels, and stood. 

        “I would rather not, no.  But I know that thus far the curse has not touched him and that even were I to forbid it, he would most like do it anyway.”  Terence huffed a small laugh.

        “The trouble of stubborn Dominants, eh?”

        “You have no idea, my friend.”

        “This stubborn Dominant is quite prepared to begin whenever the both of you are,” Joshua snuck in.  That pulled an honest laugh out of them both.  It helped relieve just a bit of the tension.

        Joshua had expected his talents would be needed once Jote explained the infection rate of those spikes.  He was honestly thanking the Founder and maybe Greagor too while he was at it that none of them had ever been wounded by that attack.  It was a nasty business.  But he was also excited to do this.  It had been a long time since he’d healed a wound of this degree.  The last he could think of was a nasty wound Clive had taken against the Behemoth King back in their prior lives.  Naturally his brother had fought him every step of the process, only relenting to Joshua’s demands when he realized he would never make it back to the hideaway for Tarja to scold him while stitching it.  One of the few times he’d enacted their bargain on healing.  This would not be a quick thing to heal and he had a great deal of sympathy for Terence in that regard.  But something had changed since his conversation with the Phoenix.  His flames had been more responsive.  Easier to manipulate.  Easier than ever before.  He felt, well, he felt like the flames were always hiding just beneath his skin waiting for the slightest need.  And they leapt at the opportunity to use them to their full extent here.  Distantly he wondered if this was what his Eikon had meant when he asked Joshua to be the Phoenix.

        He pulled off his crimson stole and gloves, tossing them across a nearby bed.  Healing like this always spiked his temperature.  Not dangerously so, just enough to be uncomfortable.  It was a great deal of flame he was manipulating, after all, and he had to ensure that he kept most of the heat rather than sending it into a wound.  There was no way of knowing what might happen now with his new connection to the Phoenix.  Next he tugged at the laces on his tunic, took a sip of water from his waterskin, and knelt on the floor.  Hopefully no one would notice how eagerly he did any of those things.

        “Jote.  Keep the wound as clean as you can lest I heal the flesh around the infection.  Terence, this will be painful and there is naught I can do to prevent that.  For this I apologize.  Are you prepared?”  Terence took a deep breath then placed a nearby strip of leather between his teeth.  Another breath and he nodded.  “Then let us begin.”

        Flames licked at his fingertips almost before he finished speaking.  Jote cleaned the first section and snipped the stitches free.  They were doing more harm than good now.  He pressed the flames forward with the path clear.  To him, there were two layers of his own magic.  The most obvious were the flames as one might expect flames to be used.  As he did use them in battle.  Hot and raging and powerful.  Around those flames, however, was something precious few others could see.  A haze, almost.  The mirage undulating in the heat.  That was where his healing ability resided.  In battle it was too flimsy to survive on its own.  The deadly flames beneath overtook them.  But here he could harness that haze.  He could keep the flickering heat to himself and extend only the aura of it.  How exactly it worked he had no idea.  How did any healing magic work?  All he knew was that it did and that his was thousands of times more powerful than any healing a Bearer could accomplish. 

        Focusing in on the task at hand, he blocked out Terence’s pained sounds.  If he let them get to him, they would be here all day.  He followed Jote’s lead for the wound.  Once she cleaned a section, he would move his magic a tiny bit forward to seal up the gash left behind.  If it wasn’t so infected, and deliberately done at that, he would have worked much faster.  Partway through Jote asked if he was alright.  He only nodded and kept his attention on his work.  He was hot, that was for sure, and he could feel the sweat on his skin, but generally he was fine.  Better than, really.  He wasn’t straining or breathing heavily or doubled over in pain like once would have been the case.  Oh.  Right.  This was the first time he’d healed like this without the crystal prison embedded within him, too.  Of course that would also make this easier. 

        When he’d knelt down to treat this wound, it was with his back towards the door.  He and Jote alike were both so intent on their task they didn’t hear the door open.  They didn’t realize someone walked inside behind him.  Not until Joshua felt cold steel settle on his shoulder, thin blade threatening the skin of his neck.  Only with great control did he manage to keep his flames in place without burning Terence.

        “Stop what you are doing and you might yet keep your life.”

Chapter Text

        Dion placed a hand on the small pouch of herbs, flowers, and barks at his waist.  One of the women with some medicinal knowledge was kind enough to tell him of local flora which could help infection.  He’d set off quickly to track them down.  Short of leaving Terence here and rushing to Rosalith for help, he didn’t know what to do.  No one here had the skill for this kind of wound and the quick infection it developed.  If only he had been stronger or faster maybe this could have been avoided.  He shied away from what he truly thought: that he wished it had been him instead.  Terence would be furious if he ever said that aloud.  Bahamut would have done much to heal it were it only Dion instead.  That was a sacrifice he would have gladly made if he could. 

        The town appeared beneath him at the crest of a hill and he breathed a small sigh of relief that he was nearly there.  All looked normal as ever.  After their time here he’d found a certain appeal to such a quiet, remote place.  The lack of a physicker aside, it was an atmosphere he hadn’t known in a long time.  There were no strangers in a place like this.  Demands were met by all rather than few.  No one clamored for his attention save curious children.  It wasn’t unlike the hideaway in that regard.  It helped that the people had so quickly warmed up to them after defeating the creature worrying them all.  A few nodded greetings when he passed.  One of the younger women offered him a bread roll since he’d been out all day.  The children had gathered around a majestic white chocobo that stood taller for the attention.  Odd.  He didn’t recall a white chocobo living here.  They were rare enough as it was.  What would one be doing here of all places?  It was clearly well trained and more than used to attention.  One of the children turned from the bird and saw Dion.  He waved and ran over.  This child, Edmund, was the one Terence had saved the other day.  After realizing what had happened, he’d become rather attached to his savior.  It was a little surprising to see him out here rather than peppering Terence with questions he never had a ready answer for.  It was a joy watching him invent those answers instead.

        “My lord!  There’s more strangers!”

        “So I see.  The white chocobo is theirs, I presume?”  That would explain it.  Likely a merchant with a need to show his wealth.

        “Uh-huh!”  The child’s head bobbed furiously.  “Isn’t she pretty?  They went to check on Sir Terence, too.  I thought I’d go with them, but Caenil shooed me away when they dragged Sir Terence inside.  Said I didn’t need to get in the middle of things.  Were you expecting friends?  They seemed to know each other.  They talked like you, too.”

        “No,” Dion barely said, gaze falling on the house where they’d been staying.  Terror struck through his heart as his steps hurriedly carried him onward, no longer listening to Edmund through the worry.  He’d thought none could or would track them through the Blight.  He thought them safe here.  Dammit!  Why did he leave Terence alone?  Why didn’t he risk it and keep heading for Rosalith?

        Caenil sat outside, darkened eyes fixed on the house.  The forge had long been forgotten by the looks of things.  When he saw Dion approach, his expression pinched further.  Was that sympathy?  A muffled scream from inside, and a flinch from Caenil, answered his every question.  The blacksmith tried to stop him but Dion wouldn’t have it.  Greagor, what were they doing to him?  Wrestling Bahamut under control to prime in the deadlands was easier than the control he now tried to keep over his own body.  The last shred of rational thought he had left begged him to slow down and to approach carefully.  If he had to surprise someone, he would not be able to do that if they heard him coming.  As much as he wanted to throw the doors open and stop this at once, he forced himself to listen to that rational thought. 

        Lance in hand he carefully pushed the door open and surveyed the scene.  Two people hunched over Terence, backs toward the door.  More screams greeted him, muffled as they were with a strip of leather.  The screams were still loud enough to cover the sound of the door hinges.  The woman held Terence upright when he threatened to fall over.  He looked worse than he had this morning.  Much worse.  That was all Dion needed to see.  The man was clearly the cause of this.  As quietly as he could manage in his chainmail he stepped toward them.  When the woman was busy retrieving something from a bag, he placed the blade of his lance on the man’s shoulder close enough to make his threat clear.

        “Stop what you are doing and you might yet keep your life.”  Would he actually keep that promise?  Dion himself didn’t know.  It was the only way to stop this, however, without putting himself at a severe disadvantage.  If the threat wasn’t clear enough, he could not fight in such a small space with his weapon.  The swords the two strangers carried would be more effective.  He couldn’t risk it.

        “I cannot do that, Dion.”  He couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him.  The voice was quiet and strained.  And so familiar.  All he could see was a black tunic and blond hair, but could it be?  Leaning to one side he finally saw the flames around the man’s hand.

        “Phoenix?” Instead of answering himself, his companion faced him as best she could with, what he could now see, her hands buried in Terence’s wound to help clean the infection as the flesh healed.  She, too, was familiar now that he got a good look.  “I know you…”

        “Once, yes.  Please, be patient, my lord.  We are not here to cause harm.” 

        “Dion?” Terence called weakly.  That spurred him into motion.  He moved the lance that he’d been too stunned to remove from Joshua’s shoulder and placed it by the door.  Then he shifted around behind Terence.  Without thinking he put his arms around his chest, holding Terence tightly.  Terence gripped his arms and let his head fall back against Dion’s chest.  “I seem to have found your friends!”  The last word left him in a pained growl.

        “So it would seem,” Dion said as reassuringly as he could manage.  Tense and agonizing minutes passed filled with pained noises and Terence clutching his arms with all his strength.  A thousand questions ran through his mind, none of which he dared ask now.  Finally the flames ceased.  Terence’s grip slowly eased and Joshua sagged to the floor breathing heavily and sweating, but smiling.  The woman with him, whom he did recognize but had never been fully introduced to, laid a hand on Joshua’s shoulder but he waved her away.

        “Forgive the intrusion, your highness,” Joshua said, quickly followed by laughter.  So different were the circumstances, and yet…  Dion’s soft laughter joined his.  The absolute absurdity of this situation fit so perfectly.  All this time he’d tried to think of the right things to say when they met in a formal setting in Rosalith.  Tried to figure out how me might persuade the Archduke to listen to him or test exactly who already knew him from another life.  But no.  Of course something like this was how he would find one of the Rosfield brothers.

        “We really must stop meeting at point of sword, Phoenix.”

        “Dion…”  He partially lifted a placating hand from Terence’s chest.

        “Old habits.  Joshua.”

        “Much better.”  Somehow his smile grew brighter. 

        “I do apologize for the lance, however.  One of the village boys…worded things poorly. I let fear rule my actions rather than think. I should have recognized the aether of your Eikon at work.”

        “Think nothing of it. I've little doubt I'd have done the same.”  Exactly the answer Dion would have expected from him.  Joshua easily waved away the apology and gestured to his companion.  “Jote, Dion Lesage.  Dion, Jote.”

        “A pleasure to meet you, your highness.”  She nodded her head courteously, stopping just short of a bow.

        “You as well, Lady Jote.  I do not believe Joshua ever introduced you before.”  Joshua offered them both an apologetic look.

        “Ah.  Her own insistence, I’m afraid.  At the time, she preferred giving her name to few.”

        “Did I?” she asked, surprised.

        “Hm.  I believe you said that as Undying, it was your role to be seen as little as possible and leave as little trace of yourself as you could.  While I was disinclined to approve of such a view, I respected your decision.”

        “Be that as it may, I cannot say you did not leave an impression,” Dion commented.  “Not many would have the skill to knock a fully armed dragoon senseless through a tent flap, and I always doubted that was Joshua’s doing.”

        “I always said she was fierce and deadly with a need.”  Dion chuckled at that.  A small squeeze on his arms drew his attention down to Terence.  A small, tired smile greeted him.  Those that shared a history.  He was happy that Dion had found them at last.

        “Why don’t you go speak with your friend?  I will be alright.”

        “Are you sure?”  Terence nodded.

        “I’m just tired.”

        “You do need rest,” Jote insisted.  “Joshua, I will finish here.  Go ahead.”  With a confident nod to her, he stood, took up a few items sitting on the bed, and left.  After one final look at Terence, who nodded a reassurance, Dion followed.  Outside he’d scarcely taken three steps before Joshua tugged him into a forceful hug.  He was much stronger now than he had been.  Dion hesitated only a moment before returning the gesture somewhat awkwardly.  He wasn’t used to this kind of familiarity any longer.  If he ever was.

        “It is good to see you, my friend.”  When he stepped back, warm eyes settled nerves he hadn’t realized he carried.  This was what it felt like to be with those you trust.  With friends.  He’d almost forgotten.

        “I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.  I am once more in your debt.  Should this continue I fear I will never be able to repay you.” 

        “You owe me nothing, Dion.  I am only glad I was here to assist.  Terence clearly means a great deal to you.”  Dion looked away nervously.  Only now did he really consider how close they had been.  Never had they ever dared be so familiar in the presence of another.  Not in this life or the last.  He swallowed down the discomfort. 

        “I speak not only of this.  Your agent, the message, now healing Terence at personal risk?  I still question if I ever repaid prior debts as well.”  Joshua place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, pulling his gaze back up.

        “You have and more.  Truly, Dion, you owe me nothing.”  He felt a need to argue the point, but Caenil approached, saving him from himself.  The brusque nature of the man had given over to hesitance, a stark contrast to his usual sure self.

        “Well?”

        “He is resting,” Joshua answered.  “Afterward he should be fine.”  Caenil released a long breath, shoulders relaxing a bit.

        “Good.  After all the shouting I feared worse.”

        “Would that healing was always gentle.”  He nodded in agreement like he knew the statement was true.  Then he turned his attention to Dion.

        “These friends of yours?”

        “Unexpectedly, yes.  I had not anticipated meeting them in so remote a place.”  The look he gave Dion became almost searching.  Prodding.  Like he had half an answer and Dion could provide the rest if he only asked.  “I’ll look after Terence for a while,” he said instead.  “You can catch up.  And wash up.”

        “Thank you, Caenil.”  Usual taciturn demeanor returning, he grumbled something that may have been an acceptance of that gratitude and walked inside.

        “He is a better man than he would have known to others.”  Dion hummed an agreement, grateful for the privacy.  All those questions swirled through his mind once more.  So much had happened and there was so much to talk about.  He thought to begin with the obvious of what Joshua was even doing here, but the question that ended up coming from his lips surprised him by cutting straight to the heart of a larger issue.

        “What happened that night, Joshua?”  A shadow crossed his friend’s clear eyes.  He needed no explanation.  The three of them had formed a very unique bond.  A bond forged in the heat of battle against a god they could not suffer to live.

        “Thanks to you I reached Clive in time, but…”  He shook his head and looked out over the quieting town.  “My own time ran rather short afterward.  I think Clive was the only one who truly believed anyone would return from that place anyway.  Granted my own demise was more…dramatic than I’d hoped.  A fate sealed long before that confrontation.  In the end, Clive had to face Ultima alone after all.”  Joshua clenched a fist, nearly shaking with the force he put into it.  “I refuse to allow that to happen again,” he muttered fiercely.  Then he sucked in a breath and shook himself away from that wretched day.  “Then we were here, the day before Phoenix Gate.  Before you ask, we do know how and who, though it requires some explanation.  For now, rest easy with the knowledge that it was friend not foe.”

        “You mean it was not the doing of that fiend?”  That had been his greatest fear, one that he felt almost certain must be true.  Who else could possibly have that sort of power?  Joshua’s easy chuckle dissolved that fear on an instant.  It took more weight off him than he expected to know he was wrong.

        “Far from.  Although I should apologize.  We had no idea just how far this reached until somewhat recently.  I sent a message as soon as we realized.  Had I known you were there, we’d have done it far sooner.” 

        “Do not apologize.  This cannot be solely placed upon you.  I knew long ago that someone must have changed things, though I was unsure who precisely.  I should have come to you sooner.  After Phoenix Gate, I feared discovery too greatly to risk it.  Not to mention my father’s ambitions.  I’ve done my best to tame them yet it seems I was ever at a disadvantage.” 

        “We heard what happened.  I hope we may be able to do something to help.”

        “As do I, though I am not so foolish to think it that simple.  Your involvement could create a far greater incident we would all do well to avoid.”  He desperately wanted to act, to save his father and Sanbreque both before it all boiled over into something none could hope to contain.  But to involve Rosaria would almost certainly start a war none could afford.

        “We will think of something, Dion.  Sanbreque will not succumb to Ultima’s avarice once more, I swear it.”

        “Thank you.  I will forever be in your debt if we are able to do such a thing.”  Dion spotted a bench along the side of the house and sat on it wearily, feeling like the weight of his life had suddenly decided to show him just how heavy his duty could be and how unprepared he was to bear it.  He was tired.  From travel, from worry, from needing to constantly save a country and a man that seemed to fight his every effort.  “I do not know what to do next,” he confessed softly.  “I did all I could to prevent this very thing.  I’d thought when Anabella did not arrive that this might end differently only to realize too late another had taken her place.  I do not wish to think this the way my father truly is and yet it becomes more difficult to deny by the day.”  Joshua quietly sat down beside him.  They barely knew each other in many ways yet it was so easy to whisper the thoughts he hid even from Terence.  “Is it fate that drives him to this point, then?  Or is he simply so easy to manipulate?”

        “I know you wish to save him and we will do all in our power to help in that endeavor.  But you cannot be bound to him forever, Dion.  His choices are not your own.  There may come a day when you need to remember that.”

        “I know.  Thank you for saying so bluntly what I cannot bear to think.  Should that day come, however, I want to know that I did all I could to prevent it this time rather than play right into Ultima’s hands once more.”

        “Of course.  We were afforded the gift to stop Anabella’s treachery.  We shall ensure you also have the chance to stand against your father’s poor choices.  I know the road has been long and I hope you take no offense when I say you need some rest, old friend.  Should you wish it, you may travel with us to Rosalith.”

        “We wouldn’t wish to impose.”

        “’Tis no imposition when we are already bound for home.”

        “Home,” Dion murmured.  It felt strange on his tongue.  He realized he didn’t know what the word even meant to him any longer, if there ever was a meaning.  He’d spent most of his life, or lives, in encampments.  Closer to home this time, but encampments nonetheless.  Oriflamme should be home but it had been lost to him twice over now.  Most of the time it felt like a prison anyway.  Twinside?  No, that was never home either.  “I am glad you were able to keep yours this time,” he said instead of continuing that line of thinking.

        “Joshua?” Jote called around the corner of the house.

        “Over here!”  She turned the corner while rubbing something into her hands.  Dion could smell the minty scent of it on the air.  “How is our patient?”

        “He felt strong enough to climb to the loft, so I helped him up and then gave him something to help him rest.  He should be fine by morning, but if he wakes with pain, there is a packet on the table.  Mix it with cool water, Dion, and have him drink it.  I doubt it will be needed.  This is my first experience aiding in a magical healing, however.”

        “Thank you, Lady Jote.  Truly.”

        “Think nothing of it.  I was set to help before I knew aught of whom I was helping.”

        “Still, you have my deepest gratitude.”  She smiled, but didn’t press it further.

        “Joshua, should I go fetch Clive and Jill?”

        “They are here with you?”  Come to think of it, he never did ask why they were here at all, had he?

        “They are,” Joshua answered.  “We were returning from a venture into the Northern Blight looking for ruins and had a need to stop for supplies.  But no, Jote, I think that might be best left for tomorrow.  Brother and Sister will undoubtedly be excited.  Torgal as well, if I’ve the right of it.  Yet I think a bit of rest for Dion would do him good.  In my wholly unprofessional opinion.”  Jote smirked.

        “Then I will confirm that with my professional opinion.”  Joshua stood, squeezing a reassuring hand on Dion’s shoulder briefly as he did.

        “We shall check in on you both in the morning, then.  Goodnight, Dion.”  Jote nodded in a similar farewell and Dion watched them leave, walking very close together.

        “I cannot wait to see the look upon Clive’s face this time,” he heard Joshua chuckle.  Jote nudged him playfully.

        “Please be gentle.  You know how the last effected him.  I, for one, would much rather finish our journey home with your brother in good spirits rather than sulking.”

        “Have no fear, Jote.  I will ensure he remains cheerful whether he likes it or not.  If not I, then Sister certainly will.”  Jote shook her head and said something else they were too far away to hear.

        Brother.  Sister.  Home.  Those simple words drove stakes into his heart.  He knew Clive, Joshua, and Jill were close.  He saw them laugh and tease in the hideaway.  He shouldn’t be so distressed hearing of it now.  But the truth was Dion didn’t know what home meant anymore.  He didn’t know that feeling of laughing and teasing with siblings.  The only sibling he’d ever had was a thrall for Ultima, and Dion had never trusted him even before he found that out.  All the people in Sanbreque and he still clung only to one friend.  Much had changed since he returned from the dead yet he still held himself apart in so many ways.  Is that what having a home looked like?  It was hard to imagine being so at ease around more than one person.  He was rarely that way in front of even Terence.  Idly he wondered at the introduction of Terence to others.  Would they accept him outright?  Would they laugh and tease?  Would Terence like them?  He wanted him to.  They represented his other side, the world he left behind.  He never thought about it until now but he wanted his two halves to get along.  He wanted…  Dion sighed and squeezed his eyes shut against a thought in the back of his mind he could not afford to acknowledge.  He went inside and tried to leave it behind him.

        He wanted a home.

        “Dion and Terence care for each other a great deal,” Jote said quietly when they were well away from the blacksmith’s house. 

        “So it would seem.  Dion would never mention it yet I always suspected there was someone he’d lost that he did not care to live without.  I saw him staring up at Origin more than once in utter despair when he thought none would see.  I now suspect I know why.”  Jote sighed and reached out for his hand, holding it tightly.

        “You think Terence was in Twinside when Origin rose.”

        “I do, yes.  The Phoenix also mentioned something Dion could not forgive himself for which caused some problem in settling his old memories.  I’ve a suspicion it is related.  If so, I am glad they seem to have found one another once more.  Though perhaps given their rather secretive nature we ought not speak of this to others for the time being.  I could swear Dion paled at the mention.  He has never been the most open person to start.”

        “If you think it best.”  They walked a few more meandering steps in silence.  “It seems so strange that we would have found them in such a place.  The timing is fortuitous.”

        “And I am not inclined to be unthankful for it.  At the risk of sounding conceited, I am fairly certain none other than myself could have healed that wound without long-lasting effect.”  Jote stopped walking, the motion pulling him around to face her.

        “It is not conceit, Joshua.  I can tell you for fact that maybe, with an extreme amount of luck and an endless store of medicine, I might have been able to save his life.  My prognosis for him in his presence was generous to hide the truth lest I scare him.  If I managed to save his life, there would be no saving that arm and the infection would have weakened his heart and lungs to such extent he never would have been able to fight again.  That is what an infection such as this does to the body.  It hunts down the most vital parts of us and strangles them from the inside.” 

        Joshua hummed an acknowledgement, trusting her judgement on the matter a bit more than his own.  Healing came naturally to him as Dominant of the Phoenix.  That didn’t mean he had any idea what he was doing in specific terms.  His power simply worked.  Jote, on the other hand, understood the human body and the way it functioned.  He would have been blind without her in this.  It suddenly occurred to him just how helpful they could be together in such cases.

        “I know healing is the Phoenix’s domain, but I’ve never seen you do it.  Not like that.  You did well.”

        “We did well.  I may have stitched the flesh back together but it was your knowledge which guided my hand and which will ensure his health now.”  She flushed and looked away nervously.

        “Says the ruler of life and death,” she mumbled.  Joshua scoffed at the title.  How he’d hated that phrase as a child.  He still wasn’t fond of it, if he were honest.  But after that conversation with the Phoenix…  Could he make peace with it?  He let go of Jote’s hand and wandered over to the well, leaning against it casually.  No one was around.  Most were probably eating dinner at this hour. 

        “Did you know,” he whispered knowing it was only barely loud enough for her to hear, “that I spent my entire life thinking I was never meant to be that ‘ruler of life and death’ all claimed me to be?”  He studied the ground intently, just catching her boots in his periphery as she settled in beside him.  He had said nothing of the more personal parts of that bizarre conversation.  Clive would be appalled to learn the truth.  Sometimes Joshua wondered just how far that pedestal his brother had placed him on truly reached.  Could it account for self-doubt?  Jill was unlikely to be much better, if not quite for the same reasons.  It was less about a pedestal and more about trying to convince him of something it took his Eikon to teach him.  But for some reason, in this moment, he wanted Jote to know what he really thought.  “As a boy I believed the Phoenix made a grave mistake in choosing me.  When I learned of Ifrit, I believed the Phoenix must have chosen me because he couldn’t choose Clive.  That he’d been forced to make do with what was available.”

        “Joshua…”  Jote inched closer to his side.

        “Clive does not know.  I would prefer it remain that way.  His childhood without the Phoenix was difficult enough.  No need to open those old wounds.  It has largely resolved itself now anyway.”

        “What do you mean?” 

        “The first thing the Phoenix wished to know was why I hated him.”  The quiet words were almost immediately lost in the sound of her gasp.  “He believed that because I never wanted him I must also hate him.  I told him just what I said to you.”

        “And?”

        “He laughed.  As it turned out, he had some rather strong feelings about it.  In his mind I was always meant to carry the Phoenix; we simply did not know it until later.”  Jote was quiet a long moment and Joshua didn’t look up to see why.  It wasn’t easy admitting this to someone not already a part of him.  Would she think him lesser for the doubt?  Would it shake that Undying faith?

        “He’s right,” she finally said.  Her hand found its way to his cheek and she turned him around once more.  “Were you always meant to be a Dominant, I cannot imagine you with any other Eikon.  You care so deeply for those around you that you willingly give your own life for theirs to heal their hurts.  That kind of compassion does not come from an Eikon.  It must be born of your own beliefs and resolve.”  He started a little at the statement.  Compassion?  He’d killed more than he’d saved. 

        “He’d most like agree wholeheartedly, though I myself find that a comparison worthy of some debate.”  He tried to smile it off, but he wasn’t sure how much she accepted that.  He took her hand into his own, running his thumb over her palm.  “Before we parted he asked me to be his last Dominant for I was more a symbol of life and death than he.  I accepted.  Ever since I’ve felt…different.”  She frowned worriedly before he could even finish.  “I feel more in control of my flames.  They are more accessible to me, more powerful.  It is difficult to explain.  Beyond being the right thing to do, I wanted to heal Terence to see just what I was now capable of.”

        “Why did you tell no one?”  He shrugged, no longer entirely certain of the answer himself.

        “I was not certain what it meant at first.  Now, I…  I feel…stronger, I suppose you could say.  I feel my access to the Phoenix and to aether has grown.  I am fairly certain that what I just did would have once left me shaking and likely flat on my back.  Instead I find I am only a little tired and rather hungry.”  He laughed in spite of himself.  Jote laughed too.

        “Then we should find the hero something to eat.”  She started to stand but he pulled her hand back, keeping her seated. 

        “When we return home, I want you to teach me some of the basic concepts a physicker must know.  I feel I should know better exactly what it is I am doing for a dreaded day you are not by my side.”

        “I would be happy to teach you, but I do not plan on going far, you know.”

        “Nor do I want you to.”  Her fingers twitched against his in what he assumed was surprise at the bluntness of such a statement.  A surprise he also felt.  It was too difficult to pull his gaze up to hers to find out for sure.  “While healing comes naturally to me, I do not know what I am doing nor how it works.  It may be that on some dreaded future day when you are not by my side to help that having some knowledge will be of benefit.”  He cracked a smile, willing himself to look up and finding her fixated on him.  “Besides, I have already devoured the castle library more times than I can count and the Undying have banned me from their stacks for fear they may lose me within them.”  Jote laughed.

        “I see.  I force you to leave a single book behind and you cannot bear to return home without something to replace it with.”  Joshua playfully scoffed, turning away from her with exaggeration.

        “Such a cruel thing to do!  I asked quite nicely and still you would refuse!”

        “I did not refuse.  I let you put three others in my pack.  That one, however, was naught but a recipe book so eaten by insects not a single page was complete.  If one needed left behind, it was that one.”  Peeking to his side, he caught her eye.  They both laughed loudly until his stomach growled loud enough for her to hear.  “Let us find you something to eat.  We wouldn’t want our firebird going hungry after saving a man’s life, would we?”

        “I told you—”  Jote didn’t care to listen.  Instead she stood quickly and pulled him up from the well, half dragging him along.

        “I still have some dried apricots Jill gave me in my saddlebag.  That should tide you over for a while.”  Whether she actually knew where her chocobo was at the moment or was simply walking where she desired, Joshua had no idea.  And despite his empty stomach, he wasn’t inclined to question it, happy to let her lead him wherever she wished.

        “Dion is here?”  Clive gaped at his brother and Jote as they all sat in the hay loft of Madame Loreen’s barn.  The sun had long since fallen and he and Jill only recently returned from the tasks she had given them.  Everything from gathering herbs to chopping firewood to finding a missing goat.  Or maybe the goat had been someone else.  He’d lost track after a while.  At some point Loreen had found Joshua and Jote wandering the streets.  In her words, she “gave them all an advance of payment and fed the two of them.”  Neither he nor Jill had expected such shocking news to spill from Joshua’s mouth almost immediately upon their return.

        “Indeed.  It was he and his companion who dealt with the creature roaming the countryside here.  An Ahriman, judging by the description.”  Jill wrinkled her nose.

        “Would that it was not something so troublesome.”

        “Yet it certainly explains how it was dispatched when none here would even describe it for the disbelief,” Clive added. 

        “Jote and I were able to heal Terence’s injury from the battle.  I offered them a place alongside us when we leave.” 

        “Should we need to stay longer to wait for them, I believe we should,” Jill said.  “I do not know Dion well, but they have both been through a great deal in a short time.  I would like them to know some friendship on this road.”

        “We really should wait if needed,” Jote agreed.  “I did not ask what you were discussing outside, Joshua, but it seems plain that he is grappling with something which weighs heavily on him.”  Clive nodded his own agreement.  He didn’t need to see Dion to know how likely that was.  It quickly became clear back at the hideaway that he struggled to let things go.  The more personal, the more he struggled.  While he could still take action with a need, it seemed obvious to Clive at least that he carried his problems with him as a permanent weight attached to his shoulders, determined to carry it for all eternity rather than truly move forward.  At least now he had someone with him through it. 

        “I still feel rather guilty we left him alone for so long,” he muttered.  Jill placed a hand on his knee calmly.

        “We could not have known.  There was no way to know just how far the Phoenix had extended himself until Cid arrived.”  He knew she was right, but still.  Being alone for years on end did things to people.  Clive would know.

        “We have them well in hand now,” Jote said, once more agreeing with Jill.  “Dion’s mental state aside, I would feel better having the ability to keep an eye on Terence’s wound.”

        “Now you doubt my healing?” Joshua teased.  Clive was a little worried that he’d healed it himself, but in reality Clive would have done the same were he capable.  Jote rolled her eyes without comment, Joshua laughing at some unknown joke.  Not for the first time lately Clive considered just what it was that had changed between them.  Jill seemed to know exactly but would never say.  Joshua just seemed more…open?  Perhaps unburdened was the better word.  Whatever it was they had found in each other, Clive was happy for them both.

        “We would all be remiss to ignore our resident physicker’s advice,” he said instead of commenting on any of it.  “If she thinks that wound needs monitoring, it’s for the best.”

        “Clive, my love, I want you to remember those words when next you do, in fact, ignore her advice.”

        “And when I do I am certain there will be a very good reason for having done so.”

        “Therein lies the problem.  You always believe yourself to have reason.”

        “Since I am always right, I do not see the problem.”  For a split second Jill was set to give him a tongue lashing.  Then she realized he was teasing her the entire time.

        “One day, mark my words, I will surely make good on those threats of tying you to a bed.”  Clive smirked and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

        “Perhaps one day I will let you, Queen of the Ice.”  Jill squeaked at the implication and Clive laughed at the deepening shades of red her cheeks turned.

        “You know it occurs to me that with an official engagement, they are going to be utterly incorrigible,” Joshua complained to Jote.  “We shall never have a moment’s peace.”

        “Focus on those around them when we return.  The castle is like to catch fire from the frenzy they are set to cause.  In fact I give it an hour before the word is out.”

        “Perhaps then they will be the ones feeling awkward rather than us.”

        “You realize we are sitting right here, do you not?” Clive grumbled.  What were they even talking about?  And why did this conversation feel strangely familiar?

        “Ah, decided to rejoin us, then, have you?”  Joshua smiled in that cheeky way of his that said he was right and knew he was.  So Clive flicked a piece of loose straw at him with a bit of wind behind it.  “That is hardly fair, Brother!”  Despite the protest, he was laughing.

        “Pardon me.  I didn’t notice you there.”  That set Joshua to laughing even harder.  Then something small hit Clive on his jaw.  He jumped, finding a small pebble laying on his leg.

        “Just keeping you alert, my lord.”  Jote was nearly bursting trying to hold her laughter, though there was a slight nervousness in her posture waiting for his reaction.  Clive laughed, flicking the pebble back at her.  She caught it and the nervousness faded.

        “Well played, Jote.”  Joshua looked over at her, pride written plainly in his face.  Oh.  That’s what it was.  The openness.  It was obvious now that he really looked.  Joshua had not spoken to him of matters of the heart since their conversation in the tent that night.  Seeing this, he did not need to.  Clive knew well that feeling of pride and attachment.  He searched for Jill’s hand.  That must be what she meant about causing a stir at the next event.  How long would they try to hide it, he wondered?  Or would they hide at all?

        Some part of him was going to miss this trip.  While he wouldn’t miss the dangers of another Apodytery, he would miss the freedom.  The chance for them all to be themselves and nothing more.  Once they returned there would be more work to do as always.  Clive didn’t mind the work, he truly didn’t.  It needed doing and they were uniquely placed to do it.  But they all had felt a bit lighter for the time away, if he was honest.  A sentiment he didn’t particularly like being honest about.  Jill tucked herself into him and he leaned back against a large bale of hay, adjusting for them both to be comfortable.  They watched Joshua and Jote toss that pebble around for a few minutes, bantering words between them like the stone.

        “They are perfect for each other,” Jill whispered at the height of their laughter so she wouldn’t be heard.  The little clues she’d been dropping the last few days finally made sense to him.

        “I’m only glad they seem to have noticed,” he answered equally quietly.  Jill leaned up to kiss him softly then settled back down onto his shoulder.  Her peaceful smile reflected his own. 

        Several hours later Clive woke from some dream he couldn’t remember.  Jill had rolled away from him in her sleep so it was a good time to stand for a few minutes.  The hard wood beneath them wasn’t softened much by the scraps of hay up here and his spine was protesting for it.  He stood, bending backward and hearing a satisfying pop.  There wasn’t much light in here but enough that he could check on everyone.  Jill still slept soundly.  Torgal was down on the floor at the base of the ladder in what was probably a more comfortable pile of hay than what they had.  He looked up and whined softly as if to confirm all was well and laid back down.  Joshua and Jote gave him pause.  If he’d doubts before, he had none now.  They’d grown accustomed to sleeping together, it seemed.  Joshua’s hand rested on Jote’s side and her arm stretched across his.  Plenty of space between them, not that he was one to judge, but still something he never thought he’d see. 

        A thought occurred to him as he watched over his family sleeping peacefully.  His dear little brother who had spent most of his past life doing everything he could to get himself killed and held on anyway.  The Undying at his side that had so much to say and never spoke a word of it for the sake of keeping her charge well.  The love of his life who spent as many years as a weapon as he had.  They were safe and happy.  Together.  It wasn’t just them, either, was it?  Cid, who saved everyone he met out of kindness except the one woman he wanted to save most.  Dion who had been so utterly alone through every trial that it eventually broke him.  They were much changed too.  For the first time in the last seven years, Clive looked at the miracle that was their presence in this place and felt only happiness. 

        The Phoenix may have done this, but Clive always wondered what his own role in it had been.  He’d once told Jote that he feared what it would make him if he’d been involved instead of merely one the Phoenix chose to save.  Looking around him now, thinking back on this trip and on the people waiting at home…  He no longer cared.  Maybe he did do something, maybe he did give the Phoenix free will, maybe he was a pseudo-Eikon himself, maybe he gave the Phoenix the idea to begin with or maybe he did any other number of terrifying things.  Clive no longer cared if he did.  He didn’t care what that made him.  This was worth it.  If it made him a man who thinks himself a god, so be it.  He would take that if it meant keeping this, if it meant keeping his family safe and happy.  Because they were.  He was proud to have played a role in giving them that, no matter what it was.

        “Clive?” Jill whispered sleepily, pushing herself up on one arm to look at him while rubbing her eyes with the other.

        “Here.”  He returned to his spot, more at ease than he had been.  Releasing that fear was more a relief than he’d expected for something he didn’t think of all the time.

        “Can’t sleep?”

        “Just stretching.”  Jill studied him a moment through groggy eyes.

        “And thinking, if I know you.”

        “It’s nothing.  I promise.”  Laying down, grateful for the time to stretch, he pulled Jill on top of him.  Staring at the ceiling, he was content to just draw patterns on Jill’s shoulder with his thumb until she fell asleep.

        “Is it truly nothing?” she asked around a yawn.  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

        “Truly.  Thinking of our good fortune.  That’s all.” 

Chapter Text

            Clive felt a little guilty for slipping out without telling anyone this morning.  They were all sleeping so peacefully he couldn’t bring himself to wake them.  Jill would be cross with him later for it, but he wasn’t going far.  They didn’t need to be disturbed just so he could announce he was running errands to prepare for their departure.  Granted, he didn’t know for fact they would leave today.  He knew personally the efficiency of Joshua’s healing, however.  Were he one to gamble, he would easily wager that they would be on the road by midday.  Meaning Clive had best be quick.  He quietly climbed the ladder down from the loft.  Torgal silently greeted him by walking in circles around his legs, happily panting at the scratches it earned him.  At least he wasn’t betraying Clive to everyone else as he often did.  Clive nodded toward the barn door and Torgal led the way out.

        The dewy morning air left a sheen of water on his skin the moment he stepped into it.  The fields around Hanover were coated in the fog of the dew drying itself in the rising sun.  It muted the usual sounds of early morning life waking in the town giving it an eerie feeling.  Once, Clive had hated morning such as this.  The dampness on all his gear aside, anything could be hiding just out of sight, closer than it should be, sound muffled preparing to strike a foolish man still too slow from sleep to react in time.  After being reunited with Torgal the hatred faded somewhat.  Torgal’s senses were far sharper than his own.  In recent years he’d grown to appreciate the stillness such a morning could create.  He still wouldn’t enjoy being out in the wilds of Valisthea with such a phenomenon, but he considered that simply good sense now.  There were many dangerous creatures far from civilization and many ways to get lost.

        Together, Clive and Torgal made their way through the streets toward the stables keeping their chocobos.  He probably didn’t need to check on the birds, but Olympia, Joshua’s chocobo, could get difficult if she didn’t like the one caring for her.  Those tantrums often riled up Ambrosia in the process.  Clive and Joshua had been called to the castle stables more than once to calm their mounts.  Each time Clive could swear it looked like Ambrosia giving Olympia a lecture on her behavior.  It always ended with Olympia hanging her head, usually to be comforted by Joshua, and Ambrosia having one final kweh before looking proudly at Clive.  Most thought the problem was Joshua spoiling his bird, but in truth she’d always been a handful.  She was an anxious thing that responded to him alone.  Probably because of Ambrosia’s “scolding” she’d come around to Clive enough that he could make do in a pinch if Joshua could not see to her.  Luckily Jill and Jote’s mounts were sweet things that needed little more than a bucket of greens to be at peace.

        Soft murmurings greeted his ears at the stable door.  Soft murmurings and, thankfully, no displeased squawking.  Not wanting to alarm anyone, he opened the door gently.  A younger girl, perhaps just into her teenage years, was talking to all the chocobos in their stalls while getting their feed ready.  She spoke kindly and softly and the birds seemed to respond well to it.  They watched her steps with interest, ruffling feathers or making small noises like they were having a real conversation.

        “…not seen so much excitement in my life as I have in the last week.”  One of her birds nudged her arm.  “I hope you’ve been good to our guests, Lightfoot.  All of you.  It would do you some good to make a few friends.”  Another gave her an indignant kweh and the girl laughed.  “Besides me, Charger.”  She stroked the chocobo’s beak then walked over to Ambrosia, her shoulders falling a bit when she reached up to stroke her beak as well.  “I’m sorry, girl.  I forgot to ask what your name was.  You and your friends.  You’re still welcome to be our friends, though.”  Clive was touched at how sad she sounded simply by not knowing their names.  It was such a simple thing.  So he knocked on the doorframe and entered.

        “I could not help but overhear.  Her name is Ambrosia.”  The girl’s face instantly lit up.

        “Ambrosia,” she whispered, reaching into her feathers.  Ambrosia made a happy noise and bobbed her head in response.  “Such a pretty name for such a good girl.”  About that time Olympia started stamping in her stall, presumably in jealousy.

        “That would be Olympia.  She can be rather demanding.”  The girl giggled.  Olympia craned her neck toward the girl crying to find some attention herself, which the girl was all too happy to give.  She giggled more in pure delight standing between these birds finding all the places they loved to be scratched.  “Ambrosia is mine, but I came to check on Olympia.  Her temperament is sometimes too much for all but my brother.  She rarely takes to people so readily.”

        “But she’s such a good girl!”  Olympia ruffled her every feather while dancing in a circle.  “These two are yours too, right?  What are their names?”  He reached out to Jill’s first.

        “This is Moonbeam.  By far one of the most mild mannered creatures I’ve ever met.”  Unless she was angry, which was admittedly rare.  He’d seen her squash goblins on her own before when they scratched him in battle.  Rather like her owner, in a way: slow to anger, but hurt someone she likes and there is no stopping her.  Next he gestured to Jote’s mount, who the girl was already petting.  “This is Honey.  He has a sweet tooth a chocobo most like ought not have.”

        “You’re a young one, aren’t you, boy?”  Honey, ignoring most of the scratches, instead nuzzled against her sleeve trying to get at something.  “What is it, boy?  Wait.”  She pulled her arm back, Honey desperately trying to follow it, and sniffed the fabric.  “Well you are very aptly named, Honey!” she laughed.  “I got berry juice on my sleeve that I just didn’t get washed out, did I?”  She rubbed her hands hard through Honey’s feathers, all while he continued trying to get to her sleeve.  Then she pulled something out and gave it to the chocobo.  “A little sweet treat every now and again is good for you.  Thank you for telling me their names, mister.  I’m Natalie.”

        “Clive.”  A soft whine punctuated a nudge on his leg.  “And this is Torgal.”  The wolf peaked out from behind his leg, gauging the girl’s reaction.  It didn’t surprise him at all when Natalie squealed again and practically dove on Torgal with a slew of praises.  “You’ve a great love of animals.”

        “I do.”  Her voice was muffled from having her nose buried in Torgal’s fur.  It was almost an impressive feat since Clive was sure the wolf must need a bath by now.  “Animals are a friendship that defies explanation.  They choose to be our friends for no more reason than food or love.  They don’t understand a word we say but somehow know how we feel.  It’s such a wonder!”

        “It certainly is that.”  Clive hadn’t put so much thought into it, but then he was also friends with a frost wolf who never stopped searching for him and a chocobo who chose nobility over freedom to protect travelers on the road.  With animals like that in his life he’d never needed to think of it.  He knelt down to scratch behind Torgal’s ear.  “Natalie, I have some friends…people friends, returning home with us when we leave.  I wondered if one or two of your chocobo friends could come with us.  We will send them back to you, of course.”  He almost hated to ask.  She sat back, scrutinizing him far more shrewdly than before.  He also sat back leaning against Ambrosia’s stall.

        “Where are you headed?”

        “Rosalith.  It is roughly four days’ travel.  We could have them back to you in just over a week.”

        “You’d come all the way back here for my birds?”

        “I would.  Although I may not personally be able to make the trip.  Would it suffice should I choose someone Torgal vouches for to bring them?”  Natalie tried to hide her grin at the idea, and Torgal’s soft, questioning bark at her. 

        “I do trust Torgal’s opinion.”  Another happy bark.  “But I’d like to make sure for myself they are cared for.  So I’ll come get them myself.”  Clive felt his eyes widen at the suggestion.

        “That is quite the trip and one you should not undertake alone, Natalie.”

        “I won’t go alone.  I’ll make my brother go with me.  He’s the best at staying out of trouble.  Besides, I’ve always wanted to see Rosalith.”  Natalie had a determination set in her eyes that Clive long ago learned nothing he said could change.  But still, that is a long journey for children to make.  While there was a fairly well-kept road straight to Rosalith, it could also be dangerous at times. 

        “I am not certain that is a good idea, Natalie.  The road can be dangerous.”

        “Well what about the people you’d send?  It’s dangerous for them too!”

        “They are…well trained in defense.”  Her eyes drifted over his shoulder to the awkwardly positioned sword behind him.

        “Do they all carry big swords like that?” she asked with a little wonder tinging her voice.

        “Some of them.  I know a few who carry axes as tall as you.  Others prefer bows.” 

        “You know a lot of people with weapons.”  Clive chuckled.

        “I suppose I do, yes.  I am lucky enough to consider many of the Shields in Rosalith my friend.”

        “Don’t they protect the Archduke?”

        “That they do.”

        “Would they be the ones bringing my chocobos home?”

        “Well, I am reasonably certain I could persuade one or two to do such a thing.”  She didn’t really need to know that he could order it done for no more reason than his own whims.  Or the fact that, when it came to Rosaria’s military, Clive was second only to the Lord Commander.  She needed reassurances, not names and titles she didn’t care about.

        “Alright,” she finally said with a defeated sigh.  “I guess if they protect the Archduke, I can trust my friends to them.  If you’re sure they’ll do it.”

        “You have my word.”  With a firm nod, she held out her hand for him to shake.

        “We have a deal.”

        “You have my thanks, Natalie.”  Clive pulled out a pouch of gil and handed it to her.  “This is all the gil I can give you at the moment.  If you require more, I will send it back with the chocobos.”  Natalie hefted the bag in her hand without looking inside.

        “It should be fine,” she announced.  “You can borrow Lightfoot and Charger.  They can be opinionated, but obedient.”

        “My friends will be glad to hear it.  I have a few other things to see to.  Could you get them ready for me?  I can ready our chocobos when I return.”

        Chocobos secured, Clive left the stables.  If there was one very definitive perk to still being the son of a reigning Archduke it was that money was rarely a problem.  Clive still lived a frugal life for himself, rarely spending much of his own gil.  He’d need of little living in the castle.  Even his equipment was, for the most part, seen to under the budget of the Duchy.  He could ask for little and had tried to stop the small stipend he was given as First Shield every month simply because he felt it wasn’t necessary to spend that money on him.  Everyone had agreed it would look poorly upon the Duchy, however, if any found out they were not paying their First Shield of all people, and so the stipend continued.  Much of it he still had stored in his rooms, what he hadn’t used to help Martha set up runaway Bearers.  Had he known a situation like this might arise, he would have brought more with him on this trip.  He only had about half of the funds he’d brought left after the chocobos to get extra provisions and, if he was very lucky, perhaps another tent or a tarp for Dion and Terence in case it rained.  The ones they had with them would be a very tight fit with three. 

        “You never learn your lesson, do you?”  Clive jumped, hand reaching for blade, at the sound of the voice behind him as soon as he left the stable.  Heart pounding in his ears, he didn’t recognize Jill’s voice until he found her leaning against the wall with arms crossed under her breasts. 

        “I’d have thought you would have.”  His hand dropped back to his side.  Several long breaths later his heart returned to a normal rhythm. 

        “Serves you right for sneaking out once more.”  Jill arched one eyebrow at him, holding his gaze a long moment.  He knew when he left he was going to hear it later; he didn’t expect it to be this soon.  The lashing never came, though.  Her lips twitched and she finally gestured back toward the door, standing upright as she did.  “You snuck out to get provisions for Dion and Terence?”

        “I did.  I assumed we would leave today.  We would make better time if we all had mounts.  I was just on my way to the general store for the rest.”  Jill sauntered over, considering eye on him.

        “I suppose I could forgive you for getting an early start for them.”  She tugged on the strap of his sheathe across his chest so he would bend closer.  She kissed him sweetly when he did.  “But how many times must I ask you not to slip out without telling me?”  Feeling a little emboldened by her quick forgiveness, he wrapped her hand in his own.

        “It looked like you were having too lovely a dream to interrupt.”

        “I was.  It would have continued had you stayed.”

        “I’m sorry.”  He leaned down to kiss her once more, lingering perhaps a bit longer than he should have.  When he heard giggling, he pulled back with a quick look to the stable.  Natalie jumped back from the door and pulled it closed.  Jill giggled softly, her cheeks pink as she stepped back from him.

        “Where to next?”

        The next stop was the general store, which Natalie had given him directions to before he left.  The shop looked little like one from the outside, making him more thankful for Natalie.  The softspoken shopkeeper was a man of very few words.  Jill was able to quickly get what they would need for their trip from him as easily as speaking to one of the merchants of Rosalith.  Clive didn’t know how she did it.  He could barely follow what the man was trying to say half the time.  He was at least kind enough to throw in a few treats for free when Clive mention that it was Dion and Terence coming with them.  They had become heroes of the town for their actions, it seemed.  Everyone felt they owed them something.  Because it was for them, the shopkeeper even scrounged up a tent he no longer used that they purchased for half what it normally would have cost.  It wasn’t in the best condition, but it would do in a pinch.

        “How much gil do you have left?” Jill asked once they were outside the shop, arms loaded with supplies.

        “Not much, between this and the chocobos.  I hadn’t thought to bring so much with me into the Blight.”

        “We should be fine with what I still have.  We are nearly home anyway.”

        By the time they had readied all their chocobos, packed the supplies, and gathered three sets of reigns between them awkwardly, it was easily mid-morning.  Joshua and Jote were gone from the barn, as they’d expected, so they went looking for the blacksmith they’d been about yesterday.  The forge was easy enough to find.  Thankfully the chocobos behaved themselves for the most part.  Olympia got a bit snippy as they walked, which made Lightfoot and Charger confused and nervous.  A strong tug from Clive and a light growl of warning from Torgal brought her back under control.

        “Olympia, of all the chocobos in the stables, how my brother formed a bond with you I will never understand,” he grumbled quietly.  She pecked the back of his neck and Clive sighed, not surprised in the slightest.

        “I think you both merely have an affection for strong-willed creatures.”  Jill kept her eyes firmly ahead of her, slight twitch to the corner of her lips the only indication of her teasing.

        “Easy for you to say when you chose the most docile chocobo I’ve ever encountered.”  Moonbeam nestled Jill’s hair just adding insult to injury. 

        With Torgal’s help in keeping the birds in place, Clive and Jill tied each of them to posts near the blacksmith’s home.  The blacksmith, Caenil if he remembered the name correctly, watched them work but continued with what he was doing.  For a while.  Then Jill came into view from her chocobos and Caenil stopped everything to stare at her.  It was uncomfortable to watch.  Clive could almost convince himself the man had a tear in his eye watching her help tie the last chocobo to the post.  He was about to say something about it when the door to the house opened and familiar faces spilled out into the sunlight.  Torgal looked up at Clive, asking if he could be excused, he thought.  When he nodded, the wolf took off barking happily.  He jumped on Dion to lick him all over, the weight knocking Dion back into a man who must have been Terence and both of them in turn against the door.

        “Torgal.  Nice to see you too now will you please get off of me?”  Clive whistled.  Torgal only half obeyed.  While he did get down, he didn’t go far.  He didn’t expect the wolf to remember Dion, but clearly he did.  And was very happy about it.  They weren’t particularly close or even overly friendly at the hideaway, which made Torgal’s behavior odd indeed.  Dion muttered some complaint Clive didn’t hear, wiping at the slobber on his cheek.  Jill laughed louder and pulled out a handkerchief to swipe at a spot he missed.

        “It seems Torgal has missed you, Dion,” she said kindly.  She pulled him into a hug, his eyes wide as she did so.  “We all did.  I am so glad to see you safe.”  Clive quickly did the same.

        “Dion.  By the flames it is good to see you well.”

        “Likewise, Clive.  Jill.”  Dion stepped aside looking a bit flustered at the attention and gestured to the man behind him.  “This is Terence, my second in command and now companion in exile.”

        “By my own choice,” Terence amended with an extended hand. 

        “We are delighted to meet you, Terence,” Jill said for them both.

        “The pair of you seem to have been busy this morning,” Joshua commented with the greetings finished.  He looked towards the chocobos with a small smirk like he knew exactly what Clive had been thinking.

        “We could have simply doubled,” he explained,” but I thought we would make better time if we had two extra mounts.  Then extra provisions, of course, and I was able to find an extra tent thanks to the good name they—” he gestured to Dion and Terence, “—have in the community now.  We can leave whenever we are all prepared.”

        “You did this for us?” Dion whispered.  There was something written on his face that Clive couldn’t read.  Disbelief, maybe, or something close to it.

        “We made you wait seven years and then trek alone across half of Storm.  Of course I arranged for better travel when I could.”  It seemed obvious to Clive.  This was a natural thing to do, wasn’t it?  They would have needed to think of this eventually; he merely chose to do it before choosing to leave.  Besides, though their lives had taken them all in different directions now, there was a time when Dion was also his brother, at least by the law of most of the Twins.  Although, now that he thought about it, they’d never actually mentioned it, had they?

        “Since you’ve already done the hard work,” Joshua intervened, “shall we be off?  After you’ve said your goodbyes, of course.”  Dion nodded an agreement and went to speak to Caenil in the forge.  The blacksmith was still watching Jill, though at least he tried to pretend he wasn’t this time.  He spoke with his guests but his eyes would dart back to Jill every so often. 

        “I think it might be a blessing we got here when we did,” Jill whispered beside him, distracting him from trying to figure out why a stranger was staring at her.

        “Why is that?”

        “There is something brewing in Dion’s mind.  I can almost guarantee it.  The consideration of getting chocobos for them meant so much to him.  Such a simple thing.  If I had to guess, I think he has been alone far too long, not just in this life but the last.  I suspect Terence cannot ease that burden entirely, not yet.”

        “I was not aware you could read him so easily.”  Jill offered him a small, sad smile, deliberately turned in such a way that no one else would see it.

        “I do not have to.  Not when he reminds me so much of another determined to push everything of himself aside in the name of duty.”  Clive crossed his arms, not wanting to admit what she was saying.

        “You think us so much alike?”

        “Not now.  But once.  I think given half the chance he could be very much like you.”  Like what he had been?  Or like what he grew into? 

        “With any luck he will find some peace and direction in Rosalith.”  Footsteps pulled his attention upward where Dion was leading Caenil over to them, the blacksmith’s eyes nervously on Jill.

        “Caenil, Lady Jill Warrick.”  The blacksmith bowed. 

        “Princess.”  She sucked in a quick breath, looking to Clive and then to Dion.

        “Forgive me for this, Jill,” Dion explained.  “He had been telling us of another lord he once served just this morning.  He recognized you.”  Jill straightened somewhat.

        “I see.  Please, stand up.  I would rather not stand on ceremony.”  Caenil hesitated a moment, but haltingly stood upright.

        “Thank you, Princess.”  His eyes wandered across her face, sad frown deepening the longer he looked.  “You look just like your father.”  This time Jill’s gasp was loud.  “I don’t expect you’d remember much of him now, but you do.”  Then he eyed the rapier at her hip.  “Do you know how to use that?”

        “I like to think I am decent with it, yes.”  Her voice still quivered with the surprise.

        “You give yourself too little credit, my lady,” Clive added in her stead.  “She has saved my life more times than I can count with it.”  Caenil nodded to Clive and then to himself.

        “Could you wait a moment?”  Jill nodded and he ran inside quickly.  They could hear things being hastily moved around.

        “The Silvermane was your father, was he not?” Dion asked.

        “Yes.  I wish I’d been able to see him when this all happened, but alas he’d already gone.”

        “You have my sympathy.  Caenil practically threatened us with his former allegiance this morning.  He claimed that his former lord sent them here and that he would fiercely defend the family who allowed them refuge when they could have easily turned them away.”  Dion looked towards Clive but said nothing more as Caenil returned carrying a long box.

        “Never imagined I’d be meeting the princess all grown up.”  He looked around a brief moment.  Everyone was watching this.  “Nor the rest of you, either, suppose.”  Clive suddenly wondered just how much he knew.  “Lord Warrick gave me this as a parting gift when…  It ain’t his exactly.  Said it belonged to his late wife.  Your mother.  I’ve kept it up but it does me no good keepin’ it tucked away.  And were he here, he’d agree.  You’d be a better one to keep it.  Maybe even wield it.”

        He held the box out for her to open.  Clive could see her holding her breath as she did.  Inside, tucked into grey velvet, was a mastercraft of a rapier, at least the same quality as the one she already wore.  The steel almost moved in the light from the pattern crafted into it.  The leather of the hilt was a deep grey which accentuated the snowflake patterned onto it with a lighter color.  The whole thing was wrapped in an elaborate guard which extended down to a sapphire on the pommel.  It was everything the Northern Territories could have wanted their princess to have.

        “Are you certain?” she breathed, fingers running gently over the weapon.

        “I am.  It was an honor to keep it for you all these years.”  Jill pulled the rapier from the box, stepped away, and slashed through several forms, testing the weight in her hand.  Once satisfied, she placed it back in the box.

        “Thank you, Master Caenil.  It would be an honor to wield this.”  He closed the box and held it out to her.  “Do I really look like my father?”

        “Spitting image.  Sound like your mother, though.”  Jill sniffed a little.  Clive wasn’t sure if he should support her or let her carry on, so he went with his first instinct and placed his hand on the center of her back.  When she looked up, she was smiling teary-eyed.

        “Thank you,” she said again.  “And thank you for helping our friends.”

        “Right,” he mumbled, awkwardly rubbing at his neck.  Then he straightened and pointed a finger at Dion and Terence.  “Now don’t think you need to be comin’ back to visit, you hear?  Town’ll be just fine without you.”

        “I have every faith it will be,” Terence answered.

        After a few more awkward farewells and more gratitude, Clive turned toward their chocobos.  He made sure everyone else was settled before mounting Ambrosia himself.  Somehow, home felt nearer now than it had yesterday.  One final look back over his should to see nods from those behind him and he led the way out of Hanover.  Children and townsfolk waved goodbye to the two strangers that had saved them when they didn’t have to.  Clive smiled at their gratitude, putting a few extra steps between them so they could enjoy the spotlight they’d earned.

        Clive was full of questions as they traveled that day.  Everyone else undoubtedly was too.  It was a struggle to keep his questions to himself as they rode.  Nothing they had to discuss was appropriate for conversation among six people on chocobo-back.  Instead they spoke of other things, inane topics all, if they bothered speaking.  Dion in particular was very quiet, not that Clive could blame him.  He may not know the specifics but he knew well the feeling of trying to put your life in order now that survival wasn’t the most pressing issue.  After Jill had put that thought in his head that morning, it was impossible not to think of it.  He couldn’t stop seeing it in Dion’s slumped shoulders when he thought no one was looking or in the faraway look in his eyes when no one was speaking to him.  There was no mistaking such a sour, forlorn expression, letting his chocobo follow rather than guiding it himself and only paying attention to the others if someone said his name.  Clive couldn’t think of a way to help.  Unfortunately questions, and potentially help, would have to wait a little longer.  A drizzling rain came from nowhere just after they chose a campsite, forcing them to pitch tents in a hurry in an attempt to stay as dry as they could.

        “I am doubly glad I was able to get another tent,” Clive commented once he and Jill were under their own shelter.  He tried to get the new one for he and Jill so Dion and Terence wouldn’t have to worry over its stability, but somehow Dion managed to slip around him and take it himself.  If he didn’t know better, he’d think it deliberate, knowing what Clive was about to do.

        “As am I,” Jill agreed.  She unrolled her bedding beside his, fixing the edges just how she liked them, then sat down.  “Maybe it is best this way.  Dion seems overwhelmed and Terence barely knows us.  We would not want to bombard them with questions before they are ready.”

        “Perhaps.”  He placed the last piece of his armor in the pile atop his pack and rolled his shoulders with a sigh, making a face at the stiffened muscles.

        “Come here,” Jill said softly.

        “It’s nothing.  Just stiff from riding.”

        “I already know the problem, Clive.  Let me help.”  He didn’t argue this time.  He scooted closer, stopping where she pointed.  “Now take off your shirt.”  Again he obeyed without argument.  He heard her open some kind of container before feeling the comfortable motion of her fingers smoothing the contents over his skin.  Once applied, she dug her fingers into his sore muscles.

        “Ow!”  Reflexively he jerked away when she dug too hard into a nerve.

        “Sorry!  Too hard?”

        “No, it’s fine.  Just tight.”  Still she eased the pressure a bit and kept working along his shoulders and down his back.  She was an absolute miracle worker when he let her do this.  He dared not accept often or else he might get too used to it.  Or it might lead to others things when they were in private, not that those things mattered much anymore, he supposed.

        “I wonder if we ought not wait entirely before asking their story.  Allow them this journey home first.”  He groaned under a particularly helpful roll of her fingers, smiling when she giggled.

        “You know Father will need to hear their side of events as well.  Should we wait, they would need not tell it twice.  I don’t suppose they knew anything of those tremors?  I heard you ask.”

        “No.  They heard the same stories we did yet felt nothing themselves.”

        “I do not like being in the dark on that.  I’ve never heard such a thing here.”  Elsewhere he’d been told it could happen.  Places around Kanver had volatile ground and rumor had it the Iron Kingdom was prone to tremors, but not Rosaria.  Clive shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  I know we’ve been over this already.”

        “There is a great deal happening.  I do not blame you for coming back to it.”

        “I wish I would not.  Every time I do I think of some new horror it could have been knowing well my imagination is running wild on my trepidation.”

        He’d done his best not to think on those tremors since yesterday and to trust that it was well in hand, but it was more difficult to find useful distractions from it on the road.  When his mind wandered too close to the subject, he could think of any number of things.  Titan was the most obvious, though he strangely thought it the least likely.  He clearly remembered the destruction Titan caused at Nysa Defile.  While terrifying to be so close, he didn’t think the shocks from him were strong enough to carry over such a long distance.  He’d thought of explosions at the Academy or similar problems with an experiment.  The idea of Ultima appearing even crossed his mind.  But what he was ultimately left with was that he simply did not know.  He hated not knowing.  Not knowing was what scared him most.

        “I overheard Terence telling Jote they traveled most of the way here through the Blight.”  Clive was glad for the return to their original topic.  His imagination was starting to take interest once more.  Instead he forced himself to focus on Jill’s fingers still moving in hard lines across his shoulders and back. 

        “No wonder they both look almost ill.  That is a hard road unprepared.  A few days rest and decent food will not go far.  I can understand why they would do it, though.  Few would look there, as we well know.”  Jill smoothed her palms gently down his back then up once more and wound her arms around his neck, draping herself over him and pulling him close.

        “I think, if we can afford it, we should wait before doing anything toward Sanbreque,” she murmured in his ear as if the tent might tell others her secret thoughts.  “Dion will want to act quickly.  We all would in his position.  I would not say this to him, but I question if he even knows what he wants at the end of whatever action he may take.”

        “I know,” he sighed, leaning against her more fully.  “That may well depend on him, however.  I fear he’s grown so accustomed to sacrifice and death he never learned how to live.”

        “We would know, would we not?” she replied sadly.

        “Except we had many patient friends teaching us every day.  Dion has never had such support.  One man behind him could never hope to shore his defenses against the onslaught of Sylvestre and the rest of Sanbreque.”  Jill’s arms wrapped around him tighter.  When she spoke, he could feel the vibrations of it on his skin.

        “I keep thinking something that none of us have dared say aloud these last years.  That when we find our friends again…”  Still she couldn’t bring herself to finish it even now.  But Clive knew.  And so he finished it for her.

        “They will no longer be the friends we knew,” he whispered.  That world was gone and buried.  Burned to ash by the Phoenix.  Clive was largely thankful for it.  Jill was right, though.  There was a price.  They could befriend all those people once more but it would never be quite the same.  It was the first time they’d said it, admitted it.  Jill kissed his shoulder lightly, breath shuddering a bit at the thought.

        “I can think of no better way to honor them than to do the same as they did for us.  They helped bring us back from the brink, Clive.  They helped us find our lives again.  Let’s try to help Dion find his too, whatever that means here.”

        “Ow!”

        “Sorry!  Too hard?”

        “No, it’s fine.  Just tight.”

        “Dion?”  For a brief moment he didn’t answer Terence, too caught up in actively trying to ignore every sound he heard and focus on the book in his hand instead.

        “Hm?”  The small noise was the only thing he managed after a pause that lasted a bit too long.

        “Might we position our tent differently next time?”  Dion glanced at him out of his periphery, amusement welling within.

        “I may well place theirs in the next lake I see should this continue.”  Terence snickered, drawing a smile out of Dion.

        “What are you reading?’

        “I…”  He frowned at the book.  Then closed it with a thud and looked up feeling somewhat exasperated.

        “I have no idea,” he huffed.  “I asked Joshua for something to read this evening before it began raining.  He pulled book after book from somewhere which must surely defy all conventional laws of space, then retrieved a few more from Jote’s bag.  I was so overwhelmed by it all I simply took the first one my hand landed upon.”  A loud groan carried over from the tent next to them and Terence rolled his eyes.

        “Might I see?  Anything would be better than listen to that all evening.”  Dion handed him the worn book.  Although the inside was perfectly legible, the title had long since worn off.  Which didn’t help in his utter confusion trying to read it.  “Your friend has a great love of books and history to carry something like this with him.”

        “I suppose he does, yes.  Although I think it more accurate to say books in general.  Now that I think on it I believe he was reading when first we met.  Outside of formal and drab introductions.”

        “When was that?”

        “The Remembrance Ceremony, years ago.”

        “I remember talk of dignitaries in Oriflamme for the occasion.  My father was part of the event with my elder brothers.  I had not realized Joshua was also there.”

        “He and Clive both were.  Not Jill, though I never knew why.”

        “So what happened?”

        “What do you mean?”

        “When you met outside of those drab introductions.”

        “Why would you assume something happened?”

        “Because you remember it.  No one remembers someone they just met reading a book years after the event.”  Dion shrugged noncommittally as Terence turned the page.

        “Joshua was reading something I do not remember and got lost in the corridors.  Rather than trying to find his way back, I am convinced he merely delved further into his book and continued walking assuming it would sort itself out eventually.  I stumbled upon him.  In truth, I followed him for quite a while simply to figure out what he was doing.  The third time he passed through the same hallway looking around as if it were brand new, I assumed something must be wrong and chose to intervene.”  If he thought very hard about it, he could still see the sight.  He’d never seen someone so thoroughly shrug off a problem!

        “What happened next?”

        “We started talking and wandering the halls together.  We were fast friends, or so I liked to think then.  Both young Dominants and the heir apparent of our respective nations.  Joshua was quite ill in his youth yet after every cough I heard of him was a smile.  Even then I knew he possessed a strength I could never hope to match.  Our meeting helped a great deal in finding my way as crown prince.  We were lucky that Clive found us rather than Anabella.”  To this day, Dion could not utter her name without venom seeping into his voice.  Whatever her fate, it was too good for the likes of such a witch.

        “So Clive found you both in the halls.  Then what?”  Why the sudden interest, Dion had no idea.  But he answered all the same.

        “He had yet be named First Shield at the time, but none would ever have known it.  He fussed over Joshua for wandering off alone without anyone knowing where he’d gone.  I’d thought he would also reprimand me.  Instead he thanked me.  After asking us what we had been doing, he walked with us instead of escorting us back where we ought be.  Like the guardian he would soon become, he gave us space enough to continue our conversation while watching over us both.  We wandered everywhere until dinnertime.”

        “That sounds like a good memory.”  Terence flipped another page and Dion distantly wondered if he should stop talking and let him focus on the text, despite the fact that Terence kept pressing him. 

        “I suppose it is,” he murmured.  He should stop, let Terence read.  But his mouth moved anyway.  “I’d wondered from time to time over the years if we might have continued that friendship had he survived, the world believing the tales of his death at Phoenix Gate.  I was so angry when I learned of our own involvement in the events of that night.  I felt I’d helped kill a friend though I’d known naught of it at the time and could never have hoped to stop it if I had.  As it was I did not know until a year past it had been our doing.  After Twinside, they could have—should have—left me there.  It would have been only right.  They didn’t.  I’d hated them for it at the time.  Better that I fall on that battlefield like so many others.  Eventually I was grateful.”

        “You must trust them both a great deal after everything.”

        “We are here, are we not?”  Dion flinched at his own deflection.  Terence deserved a better answer than that even if he said nothing.  “Many years have passed since last we met,” he said more gently, “yet it took only moments with them to recognize they, and Jill as well, are the same as they ever were in what matters.  I had hoped and prayed they would be were I to entrust unto them the one most important to me.”  He slid his hand onto Terence’s back, resting his head on his shoulder lightly.  Terence closed the book and set it aside.

        “Then I want you to do something for me, my prince.”  He shifted so that he could move an arm around Dion as well.  “Let them in.  I know why you are so guarded in all you do, but I get the sense that everyone here would love nothing more than to welcome you as more than a mere ally.  Be the friend you wanted to have when younger.”  Dion frowned.  Is that what he wanted?  Did he want more here than to find allies to help him save his home and then to save Valisthea?  His mind told him he needed nothing.  He was the Warden of Light and therefore needed no aid.  His heart, small as he felt it sometimes was, disagreed vehemently.  As did his past.  Some part of him longed for more this time.

        “I am not certain I know how,” he murmured.

        “Then I will help you learn.”  Dion closed his eyes, nestling into Terence’s side.

        “I am so tired,” he murmured.  Tired of what, exactly, he wasn’t sure yet.  Only that it wasn’t from riding all day.  This was big and complex and hard to pick apart.  He felt like he was unravelling more every time he dared look.  Every morning it got harder to find the pieces of himself and put them back together.  And he had no idea what that even meant let alone how to fix it.

        “Then let’s get some sleep.”  Dion nodded against his shoulder, not wanting to try explaining what his statement actually meant.  Once they were both comfortable and the light snuffed, he remembered the book.  “Did you make any sense of that book?”  He felt Terence’s chest move under his hand with his quiet laughter. 

        “I did not read a word.  You were answering my questions so I continued pretending to read rather than risk your silence.”

        “I am not so bad as that,” Dion complained.  Terence laughed once more.

        “Yes, my prince, you are.”

Chapter Text

        The next morning they all broke camp somewhat awkwardly.  Neither Clive nor Jill seemed to have any inkling that everyone else was avoiding their gaze and Dion found it difficult to keep the sheer annoyance off his own face.  Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that they did not realize.  Hours later Joshua finally snapped at Clive in the midst of some quiet conversation about his “obliviousness” and pleaded for he and Jill “to be more mindful of others next time” since no one else would dare speak of it.  Clive stared at him for several minutes without speaking.  Then he visibly stiffened and their conversation was no longer quiet.

        “By the flames, Joshua.  Give us some extent of your faith!  We were doing nothing you seem to think we were!”  Jill hid her own face behind her long hair as she, too, seemed to realize what was being said.  Served them both right in Dion’s estimation. 

        “What were we meant to think?  Have you any idea how loud you were?”

        “None, but it is no fault of ours you immediately would leap to salacious assumptions.  Jill was trying to help me with stiff—sore—sore muscles from riding.”  He added something quietly that Dion couldn’t hear but could see the effect of.  He just caught flushed cheeks before Joshua turned away and said nothing more.

        “If they were so loud over such a simple thing, I truly would hate to catch them in the act,” he murmured to Terence, who laughed loudly before catching himself.  From the change in Clive’s posture and in Jill’s, he was fairly certain they’d heard his comment.  They certainly could not have missed Terence’s laughter.  But he found he did not care if they did hear.  He was permitted such things with friends, was he not?

        Aside from that, most of their travel continued much as it had the day before.  Dion tried to be a little more active in things since Terence had asked.  He wasn’t sure how well he did.  No one said anything of real importance and he struggled finding things to say because of it.  He’d never been the best at small talk.  He could do it in court just fine but that was more like a script.  The same questions always required the same answers with just enough variation to look like it was personal.  This was not that.  Several times throughout the day he found himself wandering back to the situation and the fragments he knew.  He’d wanted to ask questions last night until rain prevented any serious conversation.  Tonight, if he could, he would ask.  He needed to know.  If not Ultima, then who?  How could they be so confident? 

        The sun began to slip toward the horizon and they found a campsite.  Dion found himself getting rather anxious at the prospect of answers he’d not known he so desperately needed until now.  He’d gone quiet again, a fact he was well aware Terence was cognizant of.  Once or twice he shot him a questioning gaze asking if everything was alright.  Dion only nodded.  Nodded and waited.  For what, he wasn’t sure.  They all ate their meal, cleaned the dishes, and settled back in front of the fire.  The darkness already pressed in around them.  Sheltering rather than uncomfortable.  Protecting them from the world away from their fire.  Allowing him to believe they all existed in a strange limbo between one reality and another.  It was a good night for secrets.  Gathering his courage, he decided this was the time.

        “I would like to know what you have learned of our apparent fortune,” he asked quietly in a lull in conversation.  All eyes turned toward him.  “The small assurance from yesterday has only given rise to questions I did not know needed asked.  So to whom do we owe this miracle?”  This would not be a simple answer, he knew.  Perhaps he never should have expected simplicity.  At least finding out it was Ultima would have been unsurprising.  Far, far less surprising than watch as three sets of eyes turned slowly towards Clive Rosfield. 

        “I…may have played a role.”  Jill and Joshua looked surprised at his words.  “How much is unclear.  I remember standing on Origin after defeating Ultima and absorbing his aether.  I remember pouring more aether than even I could control through the last crystal to set things right.  That gave rise to the first miracle.  The Phoenix gained some level of sentience.”

        “Sentience?”  The word slipped through his lips before he could stop it.  An Eikon with sentience was impossible.  He’d misheard, surely.  Except…Jill nodded.  Joshua nodded.  Jote offered a strained, sympathetic smile.  Suddenly Dion couldn’t quite catch his breath.

        “What he saw was…unacceptable to him.  He wanted better for us all.  And so he sent us back here.  The three of us, you, and, most impossibly, Cid.  That was how we found out you were a part of this.  Cid showed up in Rosaria with Mid and Benedikta Harman not long before we sent you the message.  We had no idea, Dion.  We never imagined it could have spread so far.”  Dion didn’t hear most of that, his mind going blank at the implications of it all.  He faintly heard Terence say his name when he leaned heavily against the log behind him.  His eyes burned from not blinking but he couldn’t even make his body follow such a simple command.

        The Phoenix, granted sentience at the end of the world.

        Cid, dead five years, was here.

        He’d brought Garuda with him. 

        Five Dominants in Rosaria, three being hidden.  Six, now, with Dion’s presence.

        He felt his world tip on its side.  So much strength in one place yet they never used it.  If this was the Empire, the Twins would have been conquered long ago.  Yet Rosaria never sent any of their Dominants against anyone.  Even the Phoenix and Shiva had only been seen once seven years ago.  They actively worked to hide three of them.  He didn’t need anyone to tell him they did.  If anyone knew of those three the Twins would be shaking with fear.  The Duchy that had just freed Bearers had the might to merely snarl and anyone with any reason in their minds would back off.  This small Duchy could destroy everything if they’d a mind to.  They never would, he knew.  There was absolutely no fear of such a thing in him.  But even the hideaway couldn’t compare to this.  And he…  And he… 

        And he was a part of it.

        Dion was well aware of what they had spent the last seven years implementing in the Duchy.  The reforms, the technology, all of it.  All of it done to prepare for a day without magic and for the reappearance of Ultima.  It went against every common convention in the Twins and he’d silently supported their every move in his heart.  He just never realized how blatant their disregard of convention ran.  How thoroughly they spit in the face of what was common, what everyone knew.  Most thought it insane that three Dominants would work together in Waloed.  Most had looked to them as if they were a catastrophe waiting to happen while praying it stayed on Ash when it did.  This far, far outstripped that. 

        “Are you alright?” he finally heard Jill asked.  It took him a long moment to refocus himself to see the sympathy in her eyes.

        “Yes,” he whispered.  Six brought together by providence.  No, by the Phoenix.  If they were to be believed.  That made his blood run cold.  A sentient Eikon couldn’t be possible.  They had to be mistaken.  Terence, however, was all too ready to believe them.  To trust them.

        “When I found him that night,” he said in the awkward silence, “he was burning with fever.  He told me everything then, though he did not remember it the next morning.  When I asked about myself, however, his eyes shifted to gold.  I knew it had to be something to do with Eikons.  Next I knew was a wave of images decidedly not my own memories.  Dion’s fever broke right after.  I always assumed it related yet never had proof.  If what you say is true, it makes sense to me that something did not want to see whatever was about to happen.”

        “This is…”  He didn’t want to call them liars.  He didn’t want to call them anything but how could anyone believe this?  How could Terence so calmly agree that a sentient Eikon had done anything?  “This is insanity,” he finally said quietly.  “A sentient Eikon cannot be possible.  The fiend would never allow such a thing.”  Joshua just smirked.

        “As he would never allow his vessel to rebel against him?”  Dion looked away knowing well he was right.  He just couldn’t let himself believe it.

        “Besides, Ultima was already gone,” Clive finished.  “It is the truth, insane though I agree it sounds.  I swear it to you.  There was nothing malevolent in this.”  Dion scoffed before he could catch the sound.  Maybe he was just too used to nothing being so simple.  Maybe he simply couldn’t accept that, for once, something cared.  Maybe he was more broken than he thought.

        “Are you certain of that?  Are you certain it was not malevolent?”  A terrifying thought was forming in his mind, reaching for him like it might pull him from a nightmare despite knowing this was no such thing.  “We know the Eikons came from Ultima, do we not?  How can we be certain that his hand is not in this?  That there is not some larger plan?  Could he not have done the same under guise of another to win over his prize in a world he was certain to win?”

        Judging by the wide eyes looking back at him and then to one another, they’d never considered such a thing.  Yet it made some sense.  Luring your target into a sense of security to catch them unaware.  Trying once more when the thing you’d waited eons for was no longer within your grasp.  And if Clive had taken Ultima’s essence as he had the other Eikons, the Phoenix and Ultima would have been in the same space.  The perfect setup.  He caught Clive and Joshua staring rather intently at one another, subtly making motions on occasion.  Ah, their silent conversations.  Dion had forgotten about that.  He wanted to believe that this all truly was some miracle.  Some gift.  Nothing in his life had ever been so simple.  Believing it could be now would only—

        “There is no way Ultima is behind this.”  Of all the voices gathered around their fire that might defend what they thought they knew, no one expected it to be Jote.  Every eye turned to her in surprise yet she straightened in defiance of the idea, absolutely resolute in her belief.  “I would not be here were it so.”

        “What do you mean, Lady Jote?” 

        “Years ago, Joshua was brought into my infirmary.  We had never met yet I found I knew a great many things about him.  Specific things.  We have never been able to fully explain it, but I think Clive might have it right.  What I knew was only related to Joshua and things I once did for him.  It is his belief that it was not my own knowledge but his.  That the Phoenix reached out to me for him, pulling me in the only way he knew how.  I do not need to have seen this old world nor met Ultima to know he would never do such a thing even for show.”

        “You never told me of this belief,” Joshua said, looking between Clive and Jote.  Jote simply kept on.

        “Is this so different from how you, Terence were enmeshed in this?  Were it Ultima, he would have accepted Dion’s loss of control and the consequences of it.  Instead something chose to ease his burden and ensure you were there.  Of everyone returned here, only Clive and Jill had one another.  The rest of us had to figure it out ourselves.  I think the Phoenix deliberately placed us with our Dominants knowing how unlikely it was we would find them otherwise.  And if, by some chance, I am wrong then it does not matter for we have made this a path our own.”  Her speech done, Jote shrank back from the attention somewhat before timidly smiling at Joshua, who was staring in pure shock.  Meanwhile Jill took up Clive’s hand, looking at him with determination.

        “Together,” she said.  “We chose our path together.”  Clive nodded to her.

        “I understand your reticence, Dion.  It is a possibility we never considered.  Yet were it true, Jote is correct.  He did not defeat us the first time and he will not do so now.  We have not faced him yet because we are making ready.  Rosaria is much changed.  It will not only be our fight this time but the Duchy’s as well.”  Dion studied them.  As resolute and fearless as ever.  Everything he always endeavored to be in the face of his country only to find out in the end he was none of those things.  They would, he realized.  They would do everything in their considerable power to end this once more.  And this time, they were going in prepared. 

        “Forgive me, I…”  What did he even want to say?  He rubbed his eyes trying to gather his thoughts.  Was he really so determined to believe there could be nothing good in this world?  “That was uncalled for.  You have more reason to be certain than I to be fearful.  If you say a sentient Phoenix acted on his own, I have no reason to argue.  Still, I wonder with all you have said, why bring me?”  He did not fit into this at all, in his estimation.

        “Why would he not?” Clive quickly asked, confusion knitting his brow.

        “Assist in Ultima’s downfall though I may, steadfast ally I was not.  In fact I tried to kill you when first we met.”

        “That was not you nor your choice, Dion.  You know that.  You aided us when it mattered and intended to do so before.  Do not blame yourself for what Ultima caused.  We never did.  If Joshua could find the grace not to blame me for the rampage I started at Phoenix Gate, I should think we both can do the same for you.”

        “Clive speaks true,” Joshua agreed before his brother had fully stopped speaking.  “We never blamed you for any of it.  Besides, we need allies here and now.  We could never hope to conquer this once more on our own, prepared or not.”

        Allies?  He supposed he was.  He couldn’t just stop this and walk away now, not with what he knew.  Was that it, then?  Brought back to be the war machine once more only for Rosaria rather than Sanbreque?  Terence shifted beside him.  It was a quite natural looking movement that Dion knew was anything but.  He knew exactly what he’d been thinking.  He desperately wanted to reach out to him but he couldn’t.  He wasn’t ready to announce that relationship to anyone.  The specter of hierarchy that both hid and bound them was too strong yet to announce to anyone he’d fallen for his second.  Terence understood, he knew.  So no one would think twice of the hand which now supported some of his weight resting on the ground between them, perhaps just a fraction closer to Dion than it needed to be. 

        They would like nothing more than to welcome you as more than an ally.  That was the unspoken message.

        “I should offer my gratitude, then,” he finally said.  “It was never my intent to seem ungrateful for this.”  Too many years seeing the shades of treachery in every corner.  “Does the Phoenix speak to you or…”  Joshua shook his head.

        “No, not as a general rule.  It has been known to happen on rare occasion.”  Would he want Bahamut to gain sentience?  To speak to him?  Would he want something like that watching over him?  He surprised himself to realize the answer was maybe.  The idea was comforting in an odd way.  Perhaps Bahamut, being a part of him, would understand things about him that Dion himself did not fully understand.  Or perhaps that was wishful thinking.  Still, he wasn’t opposed to the idea.  “Of curiosity, did you ever think to semi-prime?”  Dion started at the question, quickly guessing why he was asking.

        “Do you know why the change?” 

        “The means by which we were transported here.  It was upon the collected aether of the Mothercrystals and Ultima.  It made our past selves into something akin to Eikons in our own right, hence when we semi-prime…”

        “Is that why?”  Dion barked a relieved laugh.  He should have been shocked or something about this new information but he was really just too relieved to finally understand.  “I never enjoyed semi-priming out of principle.  Either I fight as myself or as Bahamut.  However several months after finding myself here I tested the abilities still available to me.  Needless to say I was thanking Holy Greagor I did so alone when I noticed that phenomenon.  I’d little desire to semi-prime anyway so this only gave me further incentive to avoid it.  In part because of that some few quiet whispers sparked in darkened corners that perhaps I was not Bahamut at all, not that I listened.”  He felt a small ghost of a smile tug on the corner of his lips.  Let them in.  He didn’t have to keep this so strictly informational.  It could be personal too.  “Although it was nice to feel my full height again,” he admitted hesitantly.  It felt so strange to say something so personal, so irrelevant to anything.  Yet Joshua laughed loudly to hear it, loudly enough to startle Torgal for a moment.

        “Thank you!  Being so small once more was dreadful!  And do not mention the changing voice in later years.  Perhaps I ought be grateful for actually experiencing it this time, yet I found it far too irritating to appreciate.”  Dion started to ask before he remembered Joshua telling him how grave his injuries had been after the Night of Flames as part of the tale he had to tell back then.  “By the time it was finally over I’d long ago had my fill of others laughing at the cracks with claims of it being adorable while I could say naught of why it really, truly was anything but.”  Dion caught Clive’s face twist for a moment before Jill readjusted her position to sit between his knees and lean into his chest, he wrapping his arms around her with chin resting on her shoulder.  Joshua must have eventually told him.  And Dion knew that those kinds of scars did not disappear for simple forgiveness.  “Clive truly was the fortunate one in this case having already been through the worst of both.”

        “I would not seem so certain,” Clive huffed, already returned from the reverie he’d nearly fallen victim to.  “Not all of us can make it through on claim to a throne and looks alone.  Some needed to rebuild a lifetime of muscle and stamina.  I thought I might never stop aching.”  Dion chuckled softly.  That, too, was familiar.

        “The first Jump I executed here was technically flawlwess and more to prove I needed no training than aught else.  I’d already grown weary of others pushing me.  Training was the last thing on my mind in those early weeks.  I managed to get away from the yard and out of sight before finding myself on the floor with shaking legs.  That was a painful mistake.”  Terence sucked in a breath.

        “You said you were gathering up a bee to place in the flowers!  You walked away afterward like nothing happened!”  Dion stared at him half a heartbeat.

        “You believed that?”  He nodded.  “Of course I walked away.  I thought you certainly must have known I was lying!  I meant to avoid an explanation I did not have when you inevitably called for it.”  Terence stared a moment longer at the truth having finally come out then started snickering.  That dragged a smile from Dion and before he knew it everyone was laughing at the story.

        “Yes, on that occasion I believed you,” Terence finally said as the laughter died down.  “I would have helped you had I known.”  Dion shrugged.

        “It was a painful lesson, true, but I was so accustomed to pushing through the curse it never occurred to me to do anything different.”  Terence frowned at him with mention of the curse.  At least there was no sign of it now.

        “At least there is good news on that count,” Jill said.  He heard the “good” in that sentence yet he still felt a panicked palpitation before it settled in his mind.  “We should all be more resistant to it than we were because of all this.”  Jill’s hand clenched and released.  Joshua had a hand over his heart.  And Dion, unbeknownst to him at first, was rubbing his own hand along his forearm.  Relief flooded him like he’d never known.  Relief that must of have been visible.

        “How bad was it, Dion?” Joshua asked quietly, knowing look in his eyes.  One which Jill shared.  He’d never told them.  He couldn’t let them see, couldn’t risk them preventing him from helping or try to limit his assistance.  Now…  He didn’t think the ghost of pain would ever fade from his mind.  Like a nightmare remembered far too clearly long after it should have faded.  But it wasn’t looming now.  It was safe to talk about it even if it did bring along a tinge of phantom pain in his arm.

        “Before Twinside?  Most of my forearm.  A little on my side.  And I was beginning to suspect it would not be long before I began struggling for breath.  Afterward…  I paid dearly for whatever I did that night.  Visible patches halfway down my leg, spreading across my stomach, and further up my arm.”  He gestured vaguely to his bicep.  “It had spread internally, too.  I could feel something wrong, but my knowledge of anatomy was too sparse to know where.  By that point it mattered little.”  Joshua and Jill nodded somberly at the news.  They understood.  Clive was disturbed but could never fully comprehend that singular part of being a Dominant. 

        “You’d have been afforded little time if you hadn’t died on Origin, then,” Jill said sadly.

        “Had Ultima not been my downfall, that last prime surely would have been,” he agreed.  “I apologize.  I should not have brought this up at such a time.” 

        “It’s alright.  We have all been spared thus far,” she said kindly.  She even managed a small smile.  The quiet still lingered, though, until the wood on the fire slumped and caved.

        “Why don’t I go find us some more firewood?” Terence offered, standing before anyone agreed.  “Dion, would you help me?”