fic: Browncloak
Nov. 11th, 2022 12:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Browncloak
Series: FE4/5
Character/pairing: Reinhardt/Ishtar (unrequited?)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: At the final battle, Julius gives Ishtar a dark power. A knight wearing a mask rides into the fray, to try and talk to the princess now so corrupted by Loptous.
Or so the story goes.
(Or: Fallen Ishtar, Reinhardt returned from the battle of the River Thracia, mixed with Nyna and Sirius allusions.)
Word count: 8,372
Author's note:
I put the Sirius mask on Reinhardt for the lols to joke about him one day going full Camus arc. Then I had to write my joke with Camus/Nyna parallels for the hell of it.
I was also thinking a lot about the Thracian 776 endings which are just points where historians disagree on what actually happened and it's just a bunch of "maybe this happened, maybe this did, who can say?" Originally I was going to leave it there but I couldn't resist that last part.
I didn't intend to go "Reinhardt lives, is brokenhearted, becomes Batman" but if the cloak fits, wear it.
Note: The Julius/Ishtar here is just Loptous!Julius. 100% corrupted, 0% Julius left and largely referencing their Thracia 776 scenes, some of them are word for word references to canon scenes. It implies true Julius hasn't been alive for a long time and it's just been Loptous driving at the helm for a while.
A bard approached, with the beginning of a song. A story of old, in the land of Jugdral. A land lost to time and tragedy now. His hair was curly, a deep shade of green. He wore a feathered cap, voluminous robes. In his hand, a lute to be strummed.
Something in his eyes was almost unnerving with a kind of untold power. Far more than a mere performer. The hearth in the bar was heaped with lots of firewood to push back the chill of the night. All around, the din of the bar. The bard spoke above the ambiance.
"Come closer. Let me tell you a story," said the bard.
His voice was deep wise and yet musical. His singing voice could captivate the dead. There was something in his eyes. Like he was more than a mere traveler. Like he held the kind of wisdom which could counsel kings. But no one questioned him. Many were already too in their cups to even give him another glance.
"A story of a knight, a princess. Perhaps you've heard it? The story of the nobility of Friege, a once proud land with a military beyond compare. The story of Reinhardt Schutaeze, the man known as the Second coming of Thrud. And how he met his end. Or was it a beginning? Who can tell?"
He tilted his head at a question asked.
"What, my name? That isn't important. I am a bard; I shall sing you a song of old, for a bit of gold to last the night. Listen closely..."
And so it went.
*
Once, nothing comforted her more than being with her beloved. Now, she shuddered at the closeness to him. Not quite revulsion, something closer to fear. She was still at his side, even as she wished to fly into the skies.
How lucky, the birds. How free they were, to go as they pleased. How she wished she were like them.
Away from here. Anywhere but here.
She had thought in that moment she wouldn't retreat. She would accept her fate. But he brought her back. And when he saved her, she remembered the good times. She thought there might be hope. She loved him even through the pain that being with him wrought upon her. Until it felt like she was dying to her very core.
The cycle: Julius harsh, fearsome, nothing left of him. She thought of leaving. The cycle: Julius, saving her, a hint of kindness. She thought of saying.
The tethers kept her here, in this purgatory of loving someone she increasingly wondered had gone. To where? To whom? To what? She couldn't say.
Julius stared her down with coldness. It was not comfort he offered. Not this time. Magic burned bright, like a stoked hearth about him.
"The might of Friege? Pfah. Pathetic. Each and one of your family has disappointed me."
"I'm sorry," she said.
As she'd said before, the point when he threatened Reinhardt. Then again he had disparaged her family, and even as desperately loyal as she was to them, especially her brother who had been so close to her, she said nothing.
In her love, she had lost all of this. Everything.
"You most of all. You have fallen three times in battle. Thrud would be ashamed of your skills on the battlefield. Falling to mere children."
His voice was sharper. The magic about him stronger, like leaning into the force of flames and feeling them against her face. The more she looked at him, the more he looked a stranger than the man she had once loved.
She noticed that every passing day something about Julius seemed...off. But, Ishtar still tried to find the one she had once loved.
She tried.
"If you truly loved me, you'd submit to Loptous and help begin the new era of the Loptyrian empire."
"I..." She swallowed, nearly choked, unable to speak at the words put before her.
The room grew colder as he drew near. She should welcome any touch from her lover, but it simply made her shiver with--revulsion? No, that word could not apply to Julius, the one she had loved, had always loved. The magic of him grew oppressive, until it filled the entire room.
She drew back and he held on tighter.
How many times had she begged, pleaded, prayed for him, her Julius to return? To give up these horrible hunts and wars. To go back to the kind boy he once was. None were answered.
"You will in time. All will be on bended knee to Loptous. And I will rule over all of Jugdral and return the glory of the Lotryian empire."
He held her wrist tight, and it was not warm and comforting, but a terrible cold. She wanted to pull away. The feel of his magic was too much, too overwhelming. The eyes that bored into her left her chilled to her very soul.
"Kill them all. Do it to me. To prove your love, and worthiness for me. I'll lend you some power. This is your last chance."
He was nothing like Julius, her Julius. But who else could it be, but Julius? He had no identical twin, no replacement.
Her voice came out a scream, almost disembodied as he gripped her wrists so tight. The magic that took hold of her was wild, unpredictable and darker than she had ever known.
All thoughts of fleeing, of flying, of the children were gone. A dark haze settled over her. All for love. She was hollowed out and filled up with darkness all the way to her core.
Like flames, the darkness came up about her. The magic overflowing.
"All...will fall to Loptous," she said.
"Finally, you're worthy to be my consort. Now...kill them all. Make it a wedding present for us."
*
Ishtar returned to the battlefield. A fell aura hung about her, like dark flames. It was a terrible beauty and grace as she came, stalking like a wildcat ready to kill. Her dark dress, and her long purple ponytail blew in the force of the storms she summoned forth.
She held a terrifying beauty and a terrifying might.
"I will...kill you all. All in the name of...Julius." She strode forward, and struck with such force, few could survive.
The darkness encroached and swallowed up the Scion of Light. Had it not been for an old keepsake, passed down, his light might've been snuffed out in that moment, like a cadle caught by the wind.
But, the old keepsake of his mother had burned against his skin, and the scythe of death had missed him one more.
Seliph drew back. He clutched to his chest, which still trembled from the force of the magic.
"She's different...stronger," he said.
She struck again, calling forth the force of a dark Mjölnir. The eclipse of thunder magic caught Ares and Nanna in its grip. Their screams and cries were lost in the thunder which racked the skies. The unbearable force.
But the storm did let up, if but for a moment.
"She's...too strong. Retreat, Nanna. Before we're both killed."
No rage shone in his eyes this time, only pain as he barely kept himself on his horse from the pain.
She did not cheer the victory. Her face was entirely blank, with shining red eyes as she kept following. Slowly walking towards them. Her lavender hair had come free from the ponytail and fell down her back and into her face. She did not bother pushing it back.
As she approached, an aura of death about her, the Liberation Army drew back to heal their wounds. A march that had started across the entire country stopped by a single woman.
Among them, between them, a traveler rode. Not a solider of Granvalle, not of the Liberation Army. A long brown cloak covered his broad shoulders. a hood covered to his face until only a gilded mask shown.
He rode straight to death--to her. Whatever it took.
"Begone! Another to the slaughter...all will fall to Loptous," came a voice. Not hers, ragged and hoarse.
"Princess Ishtar... You fought against the hunts. This isn't you. You must fight this," Reinhardt said.
"....Reinhardt?"
Her voice was small and soft, not touched by fell magic. Her eyes cleared in that second.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Y-You lived...T-They said the Gelben Ritter fell. That you were among them...that I'd sent you to your death. Oh, Reinhardt. I'm so sorry..."
"Come with me," Reinhardt said. "We'll go away from here. Somewhere where you'll be safe."
"I've seen the force that I loved, protected, that wore Julius like a mask. And there is nowhere that is safe from that, except death. I've gone too far...this and death are my only release. Only then will I know...peace."
"Perhaps it's selfish, but I won't let you go so easily," he said.
The magic flamed higher, and her eyes grew dull again.
"You meddlesome fool. You return from the grave. I should've killed you then and there."
The voice that came was not hers, but disembodied, like a curse.
"I should like to see you try," Reinhardt said.
"Feh, what hubris. Even better. I'll use her to kill you. Let your last moments be one of utter agony as you watch the one you dared to love kill you. Hehehehh....She'll learn her place, too. That she shouldn't have rebelled so to try and save someone so pathetic as yourself."
Her hand trembled. Like a puppet on strings she fought the hand which forced her mouth to move in an incantation of magic that not even Reinhardt could withstand.
The darkness flamed higher about her. The twisted smile on her face did not meet her dull eyes, covered with a red glow.
"Did you ever even love her, you beast? Or was she something to possess?"
"Look at this hubris before death, daring to address me like this," said the voice.
"This pathetic host body did. He was so soft, so fragile and so easily bowed to my will. He used to cry, and struggle, but now there is nothing left that I haven't taken over. To me, she was useful. I wouldn't let her be stolen from me, not when she could make a powerful pawn for my plans."
"Useful...."
Princess Ishtar was so much more than damned useful. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and not merely in her body. She was more kind, graceful and gentle than anyone he had ever known. Perhaps the kindest in all of Jugdral. Her skills with magic made his own look like mere street performer's tricks by comparison.
And to think she'd been a hostage in this, staying to love a ghost even as it hurt her, consumed her.
"It was easier to control him if I kept her near. I could threaten to hurt her, and he would be quiet instantly. Eventually, he became one with the magic and lost himself. There is nothing left of him. Soon this husk will dissolve and I will return fully to this world."
Like some horrific moth crawling free from the chrysalis. The husk cast away, no longer needed.
"Disgusting..." Reinhardt said.
"You pathetic worm, struggle all you want, but your fate remains the same. And it is to be trodden under my heel, like the rest of your sickening humanity. Now, accept your fate!"
Her hand lifted in jerking way, the way folktales spoke of the reanimated dead from the deepest necromancy of the Loptryian cult. He didn't draw back even as he felt Mjölnir's might begin to form.
Her power was much deeper, more arcane this time. Even with his skill in magic, he wouldn't survive this. Perhaps it was one last insult to the Crusaders to warp Thrud's magic like this.
"Come back to me, Princess Ishtar. Fight it. I know you're strong enough. Please...come back."
His voice broke.
He was well within the range of her magic, but she did not strike. The energy built and built, but she did not cast. Instead, she trembled. Tears fell down her cheeks, even from her dull red eyes and a face turned emotionless he could see the agony she was going through.
"You're hurting," he said. "I cannot stand for this...even if it costs me my life. If I am to die, let it be by your hand...by the hand of my beloved."
Reinhardt reached out. Touching her was like touching an open flame, but he did not draw away even as the foul magic that surrounded her began to circle up his arms like snakes.
The pain was unbearable, scalding, searing. He endured it. All for her.
The only time he touched her like this, and it was as opponents on the battlefield. He drew her close against him and held her close, knowing it might be his last breath. At least he would take it with her.
"I won't let death claim you so easily. I swore to protect you for the rest of my life...even if you wish me to not be beside you any longer, I cannot simply leave you to this fate. It is too cruel."
The haze about her dissipated.
"A-Ah, Reinhardt...I... N-No....it's too much. Not...Reinhardt too... Not...him." Her voice turned raspy, to a whisper.
The darkness left her completely, and she collapsed. He cradled her against his chest. The only moment they would ever be this close, he knew. Because he knew what would lie after this.
"I'll stay a little longer, then. Until I'm sure you're safe. And then..." he did not complete the sentence.
He took her from the battlefield, and left the Liberation Army free to strike at he heart of the rot of the country: Bellhalla.
*
Princess Ishtar was taken to the few remaining soldiers of Friege who hadn't been killed in the war. They guarded her while she was attended to by priests.
None asked her protector; for they were too concerned for their princess.
The man in the brown cloak was gone before morning, without even a goodbye. Only Princess Ishtar knew his name.
*
She awoke with a name on her lips. It wasn't that of her lover.
"...Reinhardt."
Her long purple hair tangled about her shoulders. She pushed it over her shoulders numbly.
She looked groggily about the room. A young monk refilled the vials at the edge of the wall, in some case. She blinked. The scent of herbs was surprisingly potent.
Stone edges, cold and dark. The faint white of gauzy curtains. And light of a new day.
"Reinhardt, where did you go?"
"Reinhardt fell in battle with the Gelben Ritter, my lady," said one of the knights.
She saw them now, some of the few remaining soldiers of Friege. Her entire House, its family, its military had been decimated.
Her family, her countrymen, all gone in the war.
A few had survived, though. And now they surrounded her. Trainee knights and messengers.
"But, I saw him on the battlefield. I scarcely remember through the magic, but....I know I talked with him. He saved me. Was it a ghost?"
"The Gelben Ritter all fell. His body was never found, but I was sure he had died there. He would never abandon his men."
"Still, throughout it all, he returned to me. Be it life or death, Reinhardt protected me again."
She turned to the knight nearest to her.
"What has happened in the war? Tell me, has the Liberation Army gained ground?" Ishtar said.
She covered her mouth with her hand as the news came to her.
"W-What? Julius has perished? He..."
She trembled at the news. Of the dragon which had come up from him, vowing revenge. How there'd never been a chance to save him, that nothing was even left of his body to bury. He'd turned to ashes from the exposure to such powerful magic.
Much like Sigurd himself.
And she'd known, like awaking from a dream she prayed was a nightmare but turned out to be true. Hearing it confirmed only made this fate that much more terrifying.
"I-I'm sorry, Julius...I-I couldn't save you in the end. I'm so sorry."
She buried her face in her hands. She was inconsolable with yet another loss.
*
A single fire lit the night. The priest fed it for warmth, though he could've called magic flames just as easily. For one with Fjalar blood such as himself, fire came quickly to his command.
A small tent had already been pitched. Soon, he would return to the road. Saias never stayed in one place for long.
At the corner, a shadow. The shadow came to the light and he saw it. A man in a brown cloak. And just hidden beneath the brown cloak as a familiar uniform of Friege. Now tattered, with now glory. The man did not remove his mask.
"Do not lift your magic...I mean you no harm."
"Reinhardt...you survived. You've returned, old friend," Saias said.
"Not for long. May I sit by your fire a while?"
"Always," Saias said.
Saias put another stick in the flames.
"What brings you here? Princess Ishtar still lives. Will you not return to her side?"
"She has no need of me any longer." He smiled, almost wry in his sorrow.
"My sister, too. The world has no need for Reinhardt any longer."
"Then what will you be? If not Reinhardt Schutaeze of Friege?"
"A traveler. I have no home to return to, no liege, no lover. Yet I still live. The gods' will is strange at times. Death would be more charitable than this, but it is my fate, I suppose."
'I am sorry to hear about your parents....and your sister."
Reinhardt stared into the flames.
"The news of of the war was too hard upon my parents. I fear the thought of me dying and Olwen betraying Friege was enough to send them to their graves. And Olwen... she lives, but I am dead to her. Living or dead, Reinhardt of Friege is nothing to her any longer."
"I have become nothing to many people now. The liege I served, my sister...it is my lot in life."
"I won't condemn you for the choices you made. The war is over. What will you do now?"
"I don't quite know yet. Keep moving, I guess. There is always someone in need of help. I have no purpose, but I still draw breath. I'll fight until I die. The way a knight should."
Reinhardt lifted his dark eyes up.
"I cannot say when we will meet again, or even if," he said.
"May your trip be a safe one," Saias said.
Reinhardt nodded. He didn't stay much longer, and slipped into the night.
*
Queen Ishtar ascended the throne of Friege and ruled for five years. Sorrow and grief left her racked with constant illness. She was beloved by Friege, but mistrusted by much of the rest of the Houses and territories.
Her rule was marked by much rebuilding and healing. And each of those days of those five years, she sent out envoys. Surely, someone had heard of him. She had reason to believe Reinhardt Schutaeze had lived. He must be in Friege.
He must be somewhere.
Across the land, a folk hero was born. They called him Browncloak.
Little could be seen of this man, for he wore a long brown cloak and a mask to hide his face. His clothes were dark. Some said they resembled that of a mage knight of Friege of an earlier time.
Some said he was a ghost of a knight who died for love. Others said him a reformed rebel who had once served the empire and had a guilt to atone for.
Either way, one thing was certain. No brigands ever lasted long in Friege, not with Browncloak there. Rogues and predators would beware, for a man in a long brown cloak, and an unparalleled grasp on thunder magic would come for them. With the might that rivaled the gods themselves,
He never stayed once the storm had passed. But, none would forget to encounter this man, so like a god that came from the wilds and returned to them without a single word.
There were many stories of the man called Browncloak. However, they were difficult to pin down, and difficult to verify. Even more, Browncloak seemed to have inspired a whole generation to don the cloak and fight any who would hurt the and of Friege. The reports were so varied, no one man could be in so many places at once.
But, in the dawn of her third year as queen, she came closer than ever before to the man himself.
*
Her speech had hardly finished when she heard the sound of a sword removed from a sheath. She turned desperately to see the glint of light on metal. So quick she hadn't even had a chance to call forth her magic tome.
The blade never hit her. The would-be assassin drew back from thunder magic so powerful she was surprised he even lived through it. He didn't survive the second; few did.
She looked up to see the face of her savior, only to find it covered in a mask. She saw the edges of a long brown cloak in the wind. The shape of a man, powerful and dark.
He did not speak. She called his name, but through the storm he did not hear.
Or, he heard and would not come to her side, would not forgive her. She couldn't tell. In a blink, he was gone. Lost in the crowd now that she was safe.
A knight came to her, knelt by her where she had fallen. Just beyond the blade that had come for her.
"Queen Ishtar? Are you hurt?"
"No....It never hit me. Someone protected me."
She closed her eyes. "He...He's alive. I know it. I would know him. Even by his magic alone. His voice--I know it is him."
It was not the first attempt, and would not be the last. Queen Ishtar survived every assassination attempt. Her protector from afar ensured that. Her past sins dragged her down. She was loved only in Friege; the rest of the houses were suspicious of the woman who had loved the vessel for the dread dragon.
Many, such as King Leif and King Seliph were too kind to condemn her. Others whispered, whispered, and it only led to her continued sorrow.
Like the dark clouds signaled a coming storm, Queen Ishtar knew that soon her rule would end. Either in her abdicating the throne or her death. There was no other choice.
*
In her fifth year as ruler, Queen Ishtar gave up the throne to her cousin, Tine. Her health problems had persisted too much for her to rule any longer. She had never married in those years, nor had she ever taken off her dark clothes of grieving until her very last day as queen.
She would right the wrong her family had wrought upon Tailtiu, one way or another.
*
"We shall leave soon," said the knight.
She brought a lace handkerchief to her mouth and coughed.
"My apologies...my health is not what it once was," she said.
"Have you made any progress in the search?"
The young knight she had sent out shook his head.
Reinhardt would've liked this one. Reinhardt often supported promising recruits on his own, and trained them up to be the kinds of officers he could rely on. This one was young and eager to please. He always worked hardest in his searches.
She still had a few knights that she had brought with her. With how many enemies she still had, she couldn't very well live alone. Even with her power, she couldn't be on guard at all times.
It took a whole battalion and then some to do what Reinhardt had done on his lonesome. Each day was filled with moments of loss. She would remember, and think of something to say to someone who was no longer there beside her.
Her brother, her brother's lover, Liza, her father, her mother, Julius, and Reinhardt. All gone from her life, with nothing but the memories.
It was Reinhardt's loss that filed her every moment. Funny, she thought it would be Julius's loss which left her this hollowed out. But, she had relied on Reinhardt so much, and never realized just how much he meant to her, and how empty every moment would be without him by her side.
Every moment of her rule she thought to ask him, to speak to him, to rely and feel his steadiness, his calm. But he was no longer there, by her own actions, too.
And to know that he might still live, but was too hurt by her actions to come back left her haunted, inconsolable with a grief which would not heal. And the guilt, oh the guilt.
More guilt to add to the rest. It had plenty of company.
She left to an old summer house, with so many memories. Each moment was bittersweet. No longer would Ishtore and Liza join her on the terrace, Julius read to her, or Reinhardt remark about the news of the night over tea.
She had negotiated this one last bit from the new rule. Tine had gladly left her enough to live comfortably until he last of her days, and a small group of soldiers to protect her. Which was more than she deserved.
Other than her small battalion, she lived apart. And every knight she could spare, she sent out searching for him.
Somewhere in Friege was her knight. If it took all her life, she'd find him once again. And what to say? She'd done so many unforgivable things. Not even what she had tried to right could truly make amends.
Still, she had to try. If she still breathed, then she must find him again.
The young knight went on. She had lost herself in her thoughts for a moment.
"I'm sorry, what did you say? I missed it."
The young knight cleared his throat.
"What I was saying was it's difficult to tell reports apart now. There are many tales of Browncloak, but they are becoming that of legend. None of them are leads. Even when I think I have begun to find him, he disappears into the night."
"I see..."
How like Reinhardt to turn into that of legends, even now. Stripped of his name and titles, by her hand, he'd become the kind of folk hero the people relied on. Once the foundation and savior of House Friege, now he was the protector of the people.
What curious ways the gears of fate turned.
"But, I will keep searching, Queen Ishtar. I won't let you down!"
It ached, to think that Reinhardt would've taught him and turned him into an exemplary knight of Friege. In another time, a better time. To think of all the memories and moments she and Reinhardt could have--should have had. If only she'd been braver and stronger in that moment. If only she could right things.
"I am no longer a queen. I have given that up. It is Tine who has taken control of House Friege now. As it should be. I will not have House Friege weighed down by my sins and mistakes from the war."
"A-Ah, sorry. Force of habit."
"Think nothing of it."
"Rest today. There will be much searching tomorrow," Lady Ishtar said.
*
Her few possessions had been put away in this house of old memories.
The summer was particularly stormy. She looked out at every peal of thunder with a bit of hope that somewhere, beneath, would be a man once known as the Second Coming of Thrud.
The storm had beaten upon the windows of the summer house. She stared out at the rain and lightning, and all the memories when it had been under her control--their control. The sound of thunder always left her with a particularly potent melancholy of what she used to have.
When the last raindrops fell, she went out the back. The sky was still dark, and cloudy. No longer was it lit by lightning. The air was fresh in the night.
She spoke out to the dark, oh, but if only he could hear her. If only her voice could somehow reach him. She'd said so many prayers and none had been heard.
"I know I do not deserve it. But...If I could, I would take everything within me, every power I still have to find you...."
She paused, in the night, the calm after the storm. "Is this what it would take to see you again? Will we be reunited in death? If you are a ghost then I beg of you, please haunt me."
"I know I spoke to you that day. You saved me...but you did not stay with me. And you saved me again and again. You must still live somewhere."
" And I know that this too is my fault, why you won't come back to me. I did you a terrible wrong, one I may never be able to atone. But if you would simply let me try. At least to see you once again. Reinhardt, how I miss you. Please, in whatever form you are in now...come to me."
There was no sound on the wind, her prayers unanswered still. She would look again tomorrow, however long it took.
*
The bard's tale ended there, with the last strokes of his lute.
"And what, dear listener, happened to the princess and the knight? The legend of Browncloak is a long and storied one. Each bard added more to the tale. No tale is told quite the same. Some say the princess and the knight reunited finally, and wed, and finally found happiness. That they lived in a small villa for the rest of their days and helped war orphans together. That Reinhardt and his sister reconciled, and worked to build orphanages around the land of Friege."
Another few notes.
"Some say Queen Ishtar searched until the end of her days and never did find her lost knight, and died from an illness some years after, with a broken heart. That her life was one of loss: from her family, her former lover, to her beloved knight."
And more.
"Some say he took in an orphan and passed on the cloak before he passed from this mortal realm. Some say he reunited with his friend, the priest, and they traveled together healing and saving many in the land of Jugdral. Some say he was brought to another far off land, where he became a knight of great renown and served a new liege."
The bard paused for emphasis. His gaze was piercing, even cold, like the winds.
"What is known is that the family Schutaeze, and the remaining nobility of House Friege was protected, and still protected. Olwen's great, great, great grandchildren still report the bolt of lightning which might come from the silence, if any should ever try and harm them. And no brigand or rogue ever lasted long in Friege. They would be found, taken by the storms. Marks of lightning upon them."
The last notes, and his hand rested on the lute.
"Somewhere, Browncloak still rides. Be it as a ghost, a successor, or some other way. That sometimes when there's thunder on the horizon, it isn't a storm, but a person."
*
"And what?" the bard said.
"You wanted more? Another tale? A happy ending? Dear listener, this is Jugdral. A happy ending is hard to find in an era of this. Hundreds of thousands died. Many young lovers were torn apart by the Holy War. So many were burned in the flames. The story of two fated to a star-crossed love is common in a land such as this."
All around, the crowd of the bar had thinned. The bard considered his audience. Most were sleepy with drink, but at least not belligerent.
"Fine then, I'll tell you a little more," the bard said.
"Come closer. let me tell you a story."
His voice was different this time. Melodic, like a refrain of a chorus.
"Have you ever caught the scent of flames? The smell of human flesh burning is something you do not forget. Yes, the burnings of Augustria. Surely you have heard of them?" The bard said.
His long, elegant fingers strummed over the lute.
"Remember a winter's night. How you kept close to the hearth--too close. How the pleasantness of heart on a winter's night turned horrible as you almost scalded yourself. Or perhaps you did burn yourself. A small touch to the embers that ached until you found a bandage and put some ice upon it. In Silesse, we simply go outside for such burns. We place the snow and ice upon our burns until we can scarcely feel it. Then, the monks come."
"What? You've never heard of the land of Silesse?"
He looked sad momentarily at this. But, he regained his composure.
"Then I need to do my job better. Another day, I shall tell you. Of good Queen Lahna, Annand the brave, and...Queen Erinys. The most wise and beautiful queen Silesse ever knew. But, I digress."
"Picture it, the flames high, the smoke so thick you can barely breathe. The crowds would take them. Innocents, to the pyre while they still breathed. The burnings became even more popular after the Holy War. Having been beat down by the blood of Maera, many were convinced to extinguish any chance of the Loptyrian empire ever rising again."
He paused, a moment, a beat, for effect.
"And who did they set their sights upon? Yes, the one who had loved the tyrant, Julius. The woman who had once been queen, and abdicated the throne. With only a small battalion of soldiers and away from the balustrades, she was all too vulnerable."
*
One failure she'd had as a queen, one that she did not even know until she was here, in their grasp, was her inability to quell the rising popularity of the burnings. Burnings had always existed in Augustria to any suspected to be the blood of Maera. After so many lost their children to the dragon's dark rituals, they cried out for revenge.
And they found it in dragging away anyone who might have a birthmark, a mark unknown and forcing them into the flames.
They were done by the light of torches at night. Even when she sent guards to investigate, the people of Augustria were tight-lipped and secretive. They clung to their brutality like it would be their saving grace.
It was a dark night when the torches lit about her villa. There were so many, her battalion was quickly overwhelmed.
Minutes, perhaps. She'd just barely come out from reading in the small study, to see the executioner there at her door.
And then--the flash of magic, of staves. Her guards down in the thrall of magic.
Her guards still lived, though they'd been incapacitated. Some among them was a bishop, with staffs. They wore grotesque masks that covered their entire faces.
She still had Mjölnir. It was one of the few relics she had of her time as a Friegean Queen. Ishtar could not quite let this go.
She could unleash a force of power they couldn't imagine. Even if she died, she could drag many of them down with her.
But, she couldn't save them all. The blades were already pointed at her knights. Lit by the torches, their sleeping faces.
She'd let so many of her soldiers and people down. She couldn't bear to send these young knights to their deaths too.
"Please don't hurt them...I'll come willingly," she said.
It was what she deserved, after all.
She could've warped away, and hope her knights would be spared. But, she would be no coward. She would face this judgment, one she rightly deserved with bravery.
But, instead she strode ahead. Hands out to be shackled.
She'd chosen death before, and had been pulled back from the edge of darkness which had threatened to consume her whole. She had never outran that guilt.
If her death could be a comfort to all the families she had failed, whose children she couldn't save, then so be it.
*
"Why didn't she fight? She had lost everything. Her spirit was broken. She carried guilt so heavy as to drown. That is why she took this as a judgment of fate and allowed herself to be led to the flames willingly."
The bard considered his instrument. Tapped to the tune with his finger.
"She had chosen death before, and been saved. To her, it was familiar. The ability to crush all those around her with immense power, and choosing the relief of death to finally free her from such pain."
"Imagine to have the power of a god, but to lose everything. Her family, her love, her beloved knight, her place in House Friege. She could've killed each and every one of them. But she was kind, in the end. Too kind. She knew many of these were parents of children she hadn't been able to save. She would let herself be the effigy for their rage, and be the sacrifice if it would heal their lives."
*
She was tied to the pike. Tinder of sharp pikes and sticks was beneath her bare feet, filled with magic and some form of vile smelling accellerent.
With the light of magic, the flames rose higher in seconds. They devoured the wood and came for her. Her hair and long, flowing white dress were singed.
She had only just removed her clothes of mourning. She had only just accepted that grief would always be with her.
And now, she faced the flames of judgment for her wrong choices.
Beneath her, the pikes cracked, blackened, the heat turned overwhelming. She knew it would only get worse.
The most merciful fate would to choke on the smoke, her lungs full until she gasped desperately for breath. Her last images in this life the masked judgment as she died alone for the crimes of the war.
The children she couldn't save, who haunted her dreams and cried out for revenge and justice for their innocent lives cut short in such a brutal way.
Perhaps he was a legend. Perhaps it was a fever dream. Perhaps Reinhardt had died somewhere along the way. In this land, few were powerful enough to face him. But somewhere, someone must have.
She closed her eyes. Accepted her fate. It would always lead to this moment. She had been meant to die years ago, to join her family and Julius.
And Reinhardt, wherever he had ended up. This might be her first taste of the flames of hell that awaited her.
So many innocents had died like this. The children put to Loptous's flames, the people judged for being the blood of Maera. Now, she would join them. If it would sate their thirst for vengeance, and atone, then her death would not be in vain.
The first rain drop fell on her nose. She looked up to clouds so dark they made day look like night. The crack of thunder was so loud and near that someone's horse was spooked, she heard the desperate cries. A downpour like none she had ever seen, sheets of water drenched her. Her hair was wet, stuck to her face and neck, still the flames didn't dissipate beneath her, even is they hissed like a beast at the deluge.
Through the flames, she saw a man dismount.The mask hid his eyes, until only the grim set of his mouth could be seen. The fire singed his brown cloak, turning it black and smoking. The cloak slowly burned about him as he pushed through the flames.
The storm followed him, like he was its master, completely under his command.
Her gown had already begun to turn singed. He cut free her binds and pulled her from what would be the pyre and lifted her into his arms. She was carried like a bride, precious and held close to her chest.
"Reinhardt...You came for me..."
"I would never leave you to your death. Not as long as I still breathed."
She clutched tight to him as the world burned around them. The last of his cloak burned away to ash as he stepped free from what would be her pyre. It revealed an old, tattered uniform of Friege. Dark, mended many times. He hadn't let go of the past any more than she had.
The mask had become lopsided, cut from the side. She saw dark eyes she knew well.
There was nothing left of her would-be executioners. Their bodies were left blackened and unrecognizable from the force of the lightning and flames.
She reached up and removed the mask the rest of the way, and revealed Browncloak to be her Reinhardt.
Painful years had led up to this moment where they were finally reunited.
Behind them, the last of the flames were turned to smoking embers. The rain finally stopped, and she shuddered from the chill of the night.
"You didn't fight?" His voice was raspy. She couldn't tell if it was from the smoke, or from lack of use.
She clung tight to his arm. He was real, and truly there. Reinhardt lived, and had finally returned to her.
"It is what I deserve. For everyone I didn't save. I..."
"No."
"But, I didn't do enough--I cost so many lives with my indecision."
"No," he said with more feeling. The gentlest hush she'd known.
"You deserved more. You deserved better than the lot you got in life."
She reached out and gripped to his black coat. Still he wore the uniform of a mage knight of Friege. It showed wear, after many years and had many patches hidden in the darkness.
"Everyone deserved better than the lot we got. But, my choices hurt and killed many," she said.
"Reinhardt....I missed you. I missed you so much. If it takes all my life, I'll do my best to atone to you. Just please don't leave me alone again. Please. If you could find it within your heart to forgive me, even slightly, to stay with me. I'd understand if you'd hate me for what I did. I hate myself every day for it."
"...I never hated you. But, you released me from your service. I left to this life, for you did not...have use for me any more. I did not return because you did not wish for me to return."
Her eyes closed tight. "I never wanted you to leave. I never wanted too do this. But the things I did for Julius...for Loptous. I let my entire body be consumed by darkness, my entire family died. I lost everything. Even myself. I had nothing left, not even you."
"I wanted you to come back. I ached for it, prayed for it, and searched for you for so long..."
Her voice grew choked, desperate. "So you see, I'm not a person who deserves to live any longer. I understand if a person like me can't be forgiven, if only burning would cleanse my sins. You should have left me in the flames. Even as I was so relieved to see you again."
His arms pulled her close to his chest.
"Not as long as I draw breath. I swore to keep you safe. And it seems I must keep you safe from yourself, from the part of you which is unable to see your virtues and only sees the missteps along the way."
"Oh, Reinhardt..." Her voice broke. "How I've missed you. I felt you like a ghost. I would constantly look back as I ruled and wish you were there for I wanted so much to speak to you. To feel you there and know you calm and power and support."
He wiped the tears from her eyes. How she trembled. From cold, from what she'd endured, from his touch.
"If I fall asleep, will you be gone? Like the rest? Will this be a nightmare or endless dream? I have had so many. And I saw you in many more, like a specter."
"No. I'll still be here. I promise."
"Oh, I pray so. How I pray so."
*
That night, deep into the witching hours of the night, she woke up screaming. She hyperventilated, barely able to catch her breath as she clutched to her chest. Reinhardt was at the door in an instant. He hadn't shared rooms.
The knights had finally woken from their stupor, but they bedded in the other part of the villa. Reinhardt had stayed close to protect her. He was the one who reached her first. His tall, strong frame silhouetted in the door.
"Lady Ishtar what happened?"
She tried to calm her breath, and failed. Only when Reinhardt came close and spoke softly to her did she finally begin to breath easier.
"A night terror?"
She nodded. "Y-Yes."
"How long have you endured this torment?"
"For years. Since the end of the war. Maybe before. This monster has been with me for so long, I can scarcely remember when it began. Only that the horror visits me nigh every night. I awake to screams from the creatures I have witnessed."
He closed his eyes, and knelt close enough to hold her to his chest.
"I remembered that time upon the battlefield. I remember it so often. How it felt to be so cold and full of malice. How it felt to be a puppet on string and watch the kinds of things done with my body as it was taken from me."
Her voice broke.
""He tried to make me kill you. To punish me for struggling and trying to stop the hunts. The creature which took Julius...he did that to me. Loptous had such fathomless malice and cruelty. I had to fight at the cage of my very own body, as I watched as that...thing controlled me. The thing which I had loved, I had given everything up for. The darkness consumed me. I was nothing, nothing... I loved so much I lost myself. There was nothing left but Loptous's will. I could just watch. I barely could wrest free to save you. Julius, he....No, Loptous, he...."
She forced her eyes closed.
"When I was in that state, I saw him. Julius. And his eyes were dead. His heart was dead. He was a wraith of the man I loved, with tendrils of shadow pulling his strings of a dead host. Have you ever seen it? When a parasitic vine has taken over a tree and left it nothing but a skeleton as it sucks the life of it. Julius...he was like that. Loptous was the vine which strangled him and devoured him long before he died. And I loved that which tried to destroy me, and the entire world."
He stroked her hair as she instinctively curled into him. His strong arms held her close enough to keep the monsters of the past at bay.
"I should've returned sooner. I thought you no longer wished for me by your side," Reinhardt said. Sorrow had turned his voice hoarse.
"I needed you more than ever...even as I had no right to. I hurt you so deeply, even as I tried to save you. I broke the bond of trust we had. I...don't blame you for what you did. You kept to your duty even when I slighted you. More than I deserve."
"I should've swallowed my pain and stayed closer. Even if it hurt."
Hurt worse than the touch of the foul magic which had consumed her, used her and cast her aside as nothing more than useful.
"Reinhardt, I...I've wanted to tell you for so long, I... I..."
She let her body speak instead. She reached up and cupped his face tenderly. Her lips brushed across his. In the dark, there was a clarity between them.
He kissed her back with five years and more of longing. And without a word he returned what she had confessed in this kiss as he held to her so tight.
When she broke apart, she rested her head against his chest.
"For now on... let the past be the past," she said.
Even as she knew it would haunt her, and both of them for as long as they lived. This time, she wouldn't face it alone.
It was soft, hesitant how he leaned in and tenderly took her close and kissed her again. How his lips warmed her from the chill which had overtaken her from the moment she had gone too far for love, and lost her very being to the same creature which had taken one she once loved.
How love and life could come again, even within such tragedy.
And for the first time in many years, both of them felt the warmth of hope.
*
Now, the song ended.
"Is that a more satisfactory ending? What, is it true? What is truth? I am a bard. I tell stories, true or not."
"How would I know such a story?"
The bard smirked.
"I know many stories. It's my job, after all. Come again another day, and I'll tell you another story. Of a forest maiden who fell in love of a noble. Their love was forbidden, but so true. And how it ended. The flames scorched the earth in Bellhalla so much that plants still won't grow there. But, I get ahead of myself."
Gold left on the table. The bard put away his instrument. The hearth had died down. Most of the patrons had left. The bard tested his strings for the night, to make sure none were damaged.
And outside, a sky full of stars.
A/N:
POV you are in a bar with Lewyn and he tells you Reinhardt/Ishtar fanfiction while being enigmatic and weirdly sexy, and potentially being possessed by Forseti, and probably is like five thousand years old at this point and practically immortal and filled with the inherent sadness of immortals who have lost everything.
Series: FE4/5
Character/pairing: Reinhardt/Ishtar (unrequited?)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: At the final battle, Julius gives Ishtar a dark power. A knight wearing a mask rides into the fray, to try and talk to the princess now so corrupted by Loptous.
Or so the story goes.
(Or: Fallen Ishtar, Reinhardt returned from the battle of the River Thracia, mixed with Nyna and Sirius allusions.)
Word count: 8,372
Author's note:
I put the Sirius mask on Reinhardt for the lols to joke about him one day going full Camus arc. Then I had to write my joke with Camus/Nyna parallels for the hell of it.
I was also thinking a lot about the Thracian 776 endings which are just points where historians disagree on what actually happened and it's just a bunch of "maybe this happened, maybe this did, who can say?" Originally I was going to leave it there but I couldn't resist that last part.
I didn't intend to go "Reinhardt lives, is brokenhearted, becomes Batman" but if the cloak fits, wear it.
Note: The Julius/Ishtar here is just Loptous!Julius. 100% corrupted, 0% Julius left and largely referencing their Thracia 776 scenes, some of them are word for word references to canon scenes. It implies true Julius hasn't been alive for a long time and it's just been Loptous driving at the helm for a while.
A bard approached, with the beginning of a song. A story of old, in the land of Jugdral. A land lost to time and tragedy now. His hair was curly, a deep shade of green. He wore a feathered cap, voluminous robes. In his hand, a lute to be strummed.
Something in his eyes was almost unnerving with a kind of untold power. Far more than a mere performer. The hearth in the bar was heaped with lots of firewood to push back the chill of the night. All around, the din of the bar. The bard spoke above the ambiance.
"Come closer. Let me tell you a story," said the bard.
His voice was deep wise and yet musical. His singing voice could captivate the dead. There was something in his eyes. Like he was more than a mere traveler. Like he held the kind of wisdom which could counsel kings. But no one questioned him. Many were already too in their cups to even give him another glance.
"A story of a knight, a princess. Perhaps you've heard it? The story of the nobility of Friege, a once proud land with a military beyond compare. The story of Reinhardt Schutaeze, the man known as the Second coming of Thrud. And how he met his end. Or was it a beginning? Who can tell?"
He tilted his head at a question asked.
"What, my name? That isn't important. I am a bard; I shall sing you a song of old, for a bit of gold to last the night. Listen closely..."
And so it went.
*
Once, nothing comforted her more than being with her beloved. Now, she shuddered at the closeness to him. Not quite revulsion, something closer to fear. She was still at his side, even as she wished to fly into the skies.
How lucky, the birds. How free they were, to go as they pleased. How she wished she were like them.
Away from here. Anywhere but here.
She had thought in that moment she wouldn't retreat. She would accept her fate. But he brought her back. And when he saved her, she remembered the good times. She thought there might be hope. She loved him even through the pain that being with him wrought upon her. Until it felt like she was dying to her very core.
The cycle: Julius harsh, fearsome, nothing left of him. She thought of leaving. The cycle: Julius, saving her, a hint of kindness. She thought of saying.
The tethers kept her here, in this purgatory of loving someone she increasingly wondered had gone. To where? To whom? To what? She couldn't say.
Julius stared her down with coldness. It was not comfort he offered. Not this time. Magic burned bright, like a stoked hearth about him.
"The might of Friege? Pfah. Pathetic. Each and one of your family has disappointed me."
"I'm sorry," she said.
As she'd said before, the point when he threatened Reinhardt. Then again he had disparaged her family, and even as desperately loyal as she was to them, especially her brother who had been so close to her, she said nothing.
In her love, she had lost all of this. Everything.
"You most of all. You have fallen three times in battle. Thrud would be ashamed of your skills on the battlefield. Falling to mere children."
His voice was sharper. The magic about him stronger, like leaning into the force of flames and feeling them against her face. The more she looked at him, the more he looked a stranger than the man she had once loved.
She noticed that every passing day something about Julius seemed...off. But, Ishtar still tried to find the one she had once loved.
She tried.
"If you truly loved me, you'd submit to Loptous and help begin the new era of the Loptyrian empire."
"I..." She swallowed, nearly choked, unable to speak at the words put before her.
The room grew colder as he drew near. She should welcome any touch from her lover, but it simply made her shiver with--revulsion? No, that word could not apply to Julius, the one she had loved, had always loved. The magic of him grew oppressive, until it filled the entire room.
She drew back and he held on tighter.
How many times had she begged, pleaded, prayed for him, her Julius to return? To give up these horrible hunts and wars. To go back to the kind boy he once was. None were answered.
"You will in time. All will be on bended knee to Loptous. And I will rule over all of Jugdral and return the glory of the Lotryian empire."
He held her wrist tight, and it was not warm and comforting, but a terrible cold. She wanted to pull away. The feel of his magic was too much, too overwhelming. The eyes that bored into her left her chilled to her very soul.
"Kill them all. Do it to me. To prove your love, and worthiness for me. I'll lend you some power. This is your last chance."
He was nothing like Julius, her Julius. But who else could it be, but Julius? He had no identical twin, no replacement.
Her voice came out a scream, almost disembodied as he gripped her wrists so tight. The magic that took hold of her was wild, unpredictable and darker than she had ever known.
All thoughts of fleeing, of flying, of the children were gone. A dark haze settled over her. All for love. She was hollowed out and filled up with darkness all the way to her core.
Like flames, the darkness came up about her. The magic overflowing.
"All...will fall to Loptous," she said.
"Finally, you're worthy to be my consort. Now...kill them all. Make it a wedding present for us."
*
Ishtar returned to the battlefield. A fell aura hung about her, like dark flames. It was a terrible beauty and grace as she came, stalking like a wildcat ready to kill. Her dark dress, and her long purple ponytail blew in the force of the storms she summoned forth.
She held a terrifying beauty and a terrifying might.
"I will...kill you all. All in the name of...Julius." She strode forward, and struck with such force, few could survive.
The darkness encroached and swallowed up the Scion of Light. Had it not been for an old keepsake, passed down, his light might've been snuffed out in that moment, like a cadle caught by the wind.
But, the old keepsake of his mother had burned against his skin, and the scythe of death had missed him one more.
Seliph drew back. He clutched to his chest, which still trembled from the force of the magic.
"She's different...stronger," he said.
She struck again, calling forth the force of a dark Mjölnir. The eclipse of thunder magic caught Ares and Nanna in its grip. Their screams and cries were lost in the thunder which racked the skies. The unbearable force.
But the storm did let up, if but for a moment.
"She's...too strong. Retreat, Nanna. Before we're both killed."
No rage shone in his eyes this time, only pain as he barely kept himself on his horse from the pain.
She did not cheer the victory. Her face was entirely blank, with shining red eyes as she kept following. Slowly walking towards them. Her lavender hair had come free from the ponytail and fell down her back and into her face. She did not bother pushing it back.
As she approached, an aura of death about her, the Liberation Army drew back to heal their wounds. A march that had started across the entire country stopped by a single woman.
Among them, between them, a traveler rode. Not a solider of Granvalle, not of the Liberation Army. A long brown cloak covered his broad shoulders. a hood covered to his face until only a gilded mask shown.
He rode straight to death--to her. Whatever it took.
"Begone! Another to the slaughter...all will fall to Loptous," came a voice. Not hers, ragged and hoarse.
"Princess Ishtar... You fought against the hunts. This isn't you. You must fight this," Reinhardt said.
"....Reinhardt?"
Her voice was small and soft, not touched by fell magic. Her eyes cleared in that second.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Y-You lived...T-They said the Gelben Ritter fell. That you were among them...that I'd sent you to your death. Oh, Reinhardt. I'm so sorry..."
"Come with me," Reinhardt said. "We'll go away from here. Somewhere where you'll be safe."
"I've seen the force that I loved, protected, that wore Julius like a mask. And there is nowhere that is safe from that, except death. I've gone too far...this and death are my only release. Only then will I know...peace."
"Perhaps it's selfish, but I won't let you go so easily," he said.
The magic flamed higher, and her eyes grew dull again.
"You meddlesome fool. You return from the grave. I should've killed you then and there."
The voice that came was not hers, but disembodied, like a curse.
"I should like to see you try," Reinhardt said.
"Feh, what hubris. Even better. I'll use her to kill you. Let your last moments be one of utter agony as you watch the one you dared to love kill you. Hehehehh....She'll learn her place, too. That she shouldn't have rebelled so to try and save someone so pathetic as yourself."
Her hand trembled. Like a puppet on strings she fought the hand which forced her mouth to move in an incantation of magic that not even Reinhardt could withstand.
The darkness flamed higher about her. The twisted smile on her face did not meet her dull eyes, covered with a red glow.
"Did you ever even love her, you beast? Or was she something to possess?"
"Look at this hubris before death, daring to address me like this," said the voice.
"This pathetic host body did. He was so soft, so fragile and so easily bowed to my will. He used to cry, and struggle, but now there is nothing left that I haven't taken over. To me, she was useful. I wouldn't let her be stolen from me, not when she could make a powerful pawn for my plans."
"Useful...."
Princess Ishtar was so much more than damned useful. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met, and not merely in her body. She was more kind, graceful and gentle than anyone he had ever known. Perhaps the kindest in all of Jugdral. Her skills with magic made his own look like mere street performer's tricks by comparison.
And to think she'd been a hostage in this, staying to love a ghost even as it hurt her, consumed her.
"It was easier to control him if I kept her near. I could threaten to hurt her, and he would be quiet instantly. Eventually, he became one with the magic and lost himself. There is nothing left of him. Soon this husk will dissolve and I will return fully to this world."
Like some horrific moth crawling free from the chrysalis. The husk cast away, no longer needed.
"Disgusting..." Reinhardt said.
"You pathetic worm, struggle all you want, but your fate remains the same. And it is to be trodden under my heel, like the rest of your sickening humanity. Now, accept your fate!"
Her hand lifted in jerking way, the way folktales spoke of the reanimated dead from the deepest necromancy of the Loptryian cult. He didn't draw back even as he felt Mjölnir's might begin to form.
Her power was much deeper, more arcane this time. Even with his skill in magic, he wouldn't survive this. Perhaps it was one last insult to the Crusaders to warp Thrud's magic like this.
"Come back to me, Princess Ishtar. Fight it. I know you're strong enough. Please...come back."
His voice broke.
He was well within the range of her magic, but she did not strike. The energy built and built, but she did not cast. Instead, she trembled. Tears fell down her cheeks, even from her dull red eyes and a face turned emotionless he could see the agony she was going through.
"You're hurting," he said. "I cannot stand for this...even if it costs me my life. If I am to die, let it be by your hand...by the hand of my beloved."
Reinhardt reached out. Touching her was like touching an open flame, but he did not draw away even as the foul magic that surrounded her began to circle up his arms like snakes.
The pain was unbearable, scalding, searing. He endured it. All for her.
The only time he touched her like this, and it was as opponents on the battlefield. He drew her close against him and held her close, knowing it might be his last breath. At least he would take it with her.
"I won't let death claim you so easily. I swore to protect you for the rest of my life...even if you wish me to not be beside you any longer, I cannot simply leave you to this fate. It is too cruel."
The haze about her dissipated.
"A-Ah, Reinhardt...I... N-No....it's too much. Not...Reinhardt too... Not...him." Her voice turned raspy, to a whisper.
The darkness left her completely, and she collapsed. He cradled her against his chest. The only moment they would ever be this close, he knew. Because he knew what would lie after this.
"I'll stay a little longer, then. Until I'm sure you're safe. And then..." he did not complete the sentence.
He took her from the battlefield, and left the Liberation Army free to strike at he heart of the rot of the country: Bellhalla.
*
Princess Ishtar was taken to the few remaining soldiers of Friege who hadn't been killed in the war. They guarded her while she was attended to by priests.
None asked her protector; for they were too concerned for their princess.
The man in the brown cloak was gone before morning, without even a goodbye. Only Princess Ishtar knew his name.
*
She awoke with a name on her lips. It wasn't that of her lover.
"...Reinhardt."
Her long purple hair tangled about her shoulders. She pushed it over her shoulders numbly.
She looked groggily about the room. A young monk refilled the vials at the edge of the wall, in some case. She blinked. The scent of herbs was surprisingly potent.
Stone edges, cold and dark. The faint white of gauzy curtains. And light of a new day.
"Reinhardt, where did you go?"
"Reinhardt fell in battle with the Gelben Ritter, my lady," said one of the knights.
She saw them now, some of the few remaining soldiers of Friege. Her entire House, its family, its military had been decimated.
Her family, her countrymen, all gone in the war.
A few had survived, though. And now they surrounded her. Trainee knights and messengers.
"But, I saw him on the battlefield. I scarcely remember through the magic, but....I know I talked with him. He saved me. Was it a ghost?"
"The Gelben Ritter all fell. His body was never found, but I was sure he had died there. He would never abandon his men."
"Still, throughout it all, he returned to me. Be it life or death, Reinhardt protected me again."
She turned to the knight nearest to her.
"What has happened in the war? Tell me, has the Liberation Army gained ground?" Ishtar said.
She covered her mouth with her hand as the news came to her.
"W-What? Julius has perished? He..."
She trembled at the news. Of the dragon which had come up from him, vowing revenge. How there'd never been a chance to save him, that nothing was even left of his body to bury. He'd turned to ashes from the exposure to such powerful magic.
Much like Sigurd himself.
And she'd known, like awaking from a dream she prayed was a nightmare but turned out to be true. Hearing it confirmed only made this fate that much more terrifying.
"I-I'm sorry, Julius...I-I couldn't save you in the end. I'm so sorry."
She buried her face in her hands. She was inconsolable with yet another loss.
*
A single fire lit the night. The priest fed it for warmth, though he could've called magic flames just as easily. For one with Fjalar blood such as himself, fire came quickly to his command.
A small tent had already been pitched. Soon, he would return to the road. Saias never stayed in one place for long.
At the corner, a shadow. The shadow came to the light and he saw it. A man in a brown cloak. And just hidden beneath the brown cloak as a familiar uniform of Friege. Now tattered, with now glory. The man did not remove his mask.
"Do not lift your magic...I mean you no harm."
"Reinhardt...you survived. You've returned, old friend," Saias said.
"Not for long. May I sit by your fire a while?"
"Always," Saias said.
Saias put another stick in the flames.
"What brings you here? Princess Ishtar still lives. Will you not return to her side?"
"She has no need of me any longer." He smiled, almost wry in his sorrow.
"My sister, too. The world has no need for Reinhardt any longer."
"Then what will you be? If not Reinhardt Schutaeze of Friege?"
"A traveler. I have no home to return to, no liege, no lover. Yet I still live. The gods' will is strange at times. Death would be more charitable than this, but it is my fate, I suppose."
'I am sorry to hear about your parents....and your sister."
Reinhardt stared into the flames.
"The news of of the war was too hard upon my parents. I fear the thought of me dying and Olwen betraying Friege was enough to send them to their graves. And Olwen... she lives, but I am dead to her. Living or dead, Reinhardt of Friege is nothing to her any longer."
"I have become nothing to many people now. The liege I served, my sister...it is my lot in life."
"I won't condemn you for the choices you made. The war is over. What will you do now?"
"I don't quite know yet. Keep moving, I guess. There is always someone in need of help. I have no purpose, but I still draw breath. I'll fight until I die. The way a knight should."
Reinhardt lifted his dark eyes up.
"I cannot say when we will meet again, or even if," he said.
"May your trip be a safe one," Saias said.
Reinhardt nodded. He didn't stay much longer, and slipped into the night.
*
Queen Ishtar ascended the throne of Friege and ruled for five years. Sorrow and grief left her racked with constant illness. She was beloved by Friege, but mistrusted by much of the rest of the Houses and territories.
Her rule was marked by much rebuilding and healing. And each of those days of those five years, she sent out envoys. Surely, someone had heard of him. She had reason to believe Reinhardt Schutaeze had lived. He must be in Friege.
He must be somewhere.
Across the land, a folk hero was born. They called him Browncloak.
Little could be seen of this man, for he wore a long brown cloak and a mask to hide his face. His clothes were dark. Some said they resembled that of a mage knight of Friege of an earlier time.
Some said he was a ghost of a knight who died for love. Others said him a reformed rebel who had once served the empire and had a guilt to atone for.
Either way, one thing was certain. No brigands ever lasted long in Friege, not with Browncloak there. Rogues and predators would beware, for a man in a long brown cloak, and an unparalleled grasp on thunder magic would come for them. With the might that rivaled the gods themselves,
He never stayed once the storm had passed. But, none would forget to encounter this man, so like a god that came from the wilds and returned to them without a single word.
There were many stories of the man called Browncloak. However, they were difficult to pin down, and difficult to verify. Even more, Browncloak seemed to have inspired a whole generation to don the cloak and fight any who would hurt the and of Friege. The reports were so varied, no one man could be in so many places at once.
But, in the dawn of her third year as queen, she came closer than ever before to the man himself.
*
Her speech had hardly finished when she heard the sound of a sword removed from a sheath. She turned desperately to see the glint of light on metal. So quick she hadn't even had a chance to call forth her magic tome.
The blade never hit her. The would-be assassin drew back from thunder magic so powerful she was surprised he even lived through it. He didn't survive the second; few did.
She looked up to see the face of her savior, only to find it covered in a mask. She saw the edges of a long brown cloak in the wind. The shape of a man, powerful and dark.
He did not speak. She called his name, but through the storm he did not hear.
Or, he heard and would not come to her side, would not forgive her. She couldn't tell. In a blink, he was gone. Lost in the crowd now that she was safe.
A knight came to her, knelt by her where she had fallen. Just beyond the blade that had come for her.
"Queen Ishtar? Are you hurt?"
"No....It never hit me. Someone protected me."
She closed her eyes. "He...He's alive. I know it. I would know him. Even by his magic alone. His voice--I know it is him."
It was not the first attempt, and would not be the last. Queen Ishtar survived every assassination attempt. Her protector from afar ensured that. Her past sins dragged her down. She was loved only in Friege; the rest of the houses were suspicious of the woman who had loved the vessel for the dread dragon.
Many, such as King Leif and King Seliph were too kind to condemn her. Others whispered, whispered, and it only led to her continued sorrow.
Like the dark clouds signaled a coming storm, Queen Ishtar knew that soon her rule would end. Either in her abdicating the throne or her death. There was no other choice.
*
In her fifth year as ruler, Queen Ishtar gave up the throne to her cousin, Tine. Her health problems had persisted too much for her to rule any longer. She had never married in those years, nor had she ever taken off her dark clothes of grieving until her very last day as queen.
She would right the wrong her family had wrought upon Tailtiu, one way or another.
*
"We shall leave soon," said the knight.
She brought a lace handkerchief to her mouth and coughed.
"My apologies...my health is not what it once was," she said.
"Have you made any progress in the search?"
The young knight she had sent out shook his head.
Reinhardt would've liked this one. Reinhardt often supported promising recruits on his own, and trained them up to be the kinds of officers he could rely on. This one was young and eager to please. He always worked hardest in his searches.
She still had a few knights that she had brought with her. With how many enemies she still had, she couldn't very well live alone. Even with her power, she couldn't be on guard at all times.
It took a whole battalion and then some to do what Reinhardt had done on his lonesome. Each day was filled with moments of loss. She would remember, and think of something to say to someone who was no longer there beside her.
Her brother, her brother's lover, Liza, her father, her mother, Julius, and Reinhardt. All gone from her life, with nothing but the memories.
It was Reinhardt's loss that filed her every moment. Funny, she thought it would be Julius's loss which left her this hollowed out. But, she had relied on Reinhardt so much, and never realized just how much he meant to her, and how empty every moment would be without him by her side.
Every moment of her rule she thought to ask him, to speak to him, to rely and feel his steadiness, his calm. But he was no longer there, by her own actions, too.
And to know that he might still live, but was too hurt by her actions to come back left her haunted, inconsolable with a grief which would not heal. And the guilt, oh the guilt.
More guilt to add to the rest. It had plenty of company.
She left to an old summer house, with so many memories. Each moment was bittersweet. No longer would Ishtore and Liza join her on the terrace, Julius read to her, or Reinhardt remark about the news of the night over tea.
She had negotiated this one last bit from the new rule. Tine had gladly left her enough to live comfortably until he last of her days, and a small group of soldiers to protect her. Which was more than she deserved.
Other than her small battalion, she lived apart. And every knight she could spare, she sent out searching for him.
Somewhere in Friege was her knight. If it took all her life, she'd find him once again. And what to say? She'd done so many unforgivable things. Not even what she had tried to right could truly make amends.
Still, she had to try. If she still breathed, then she must find him again.
The young knight went on. She had lost herself in her thoughts for a moment.
"I'm sorry, what did you say? I missed it."
The young knight cleared his throat.
"What I was saying was it's difficult to tell reports apart now. There are many tales of Browncloak, but they are becoming that of legend. None of them are leads. Even when I think I have begun to find him, he disappears into the night."
"I see..."
How like Reinhardt to turn into that of legends, even now. Stripped of his name and titles, by her hand, he'd become the kind of folk hero the people relied on. Once the foundation and savior of House Friege, now he was the protector of the people.
What curious ways the gears of fate turned.
"But, I will keep searching, Queen Ishtar. I won't let you down!"
It ached, to think that Reinhardt would've taught him and turned him into an exemplary knight of Friege. In another time, a better time. To think of all the memories and moments she and Reinhardt could have--should have had. If only she'd been braver and stronger in that moment. If only she could right things.
"I am no longer a queen. I have given that up. It is Tine who has taken control of House Friege now. As it should be. I will not have House Friege weighed down by my sins and mistakes from the war."
"A-Ah, sorry. Force of habit."
"Think nothing of it."
"Rest today. There will be much searching tomorrow," Lady Ishtar said.
*
Her few possessions had been put away in this house of old memories.
The summer was particularly stormy. She looked out at every peal of thunder with a bit of hope that somewhere, beneath, would be a man once known as the Second Coming of Thrud.
The storm had beaten upon the windows of the summer house. She stared out at the rain and lightning, and all the memories when it had been under her control--their control. The sound of thunder always left her with a particularly potent melancholy of what she used to have.
When the last raindrops fell, she went out the back. The sky was still dark, and cloudy. No longer was it lit by lightning. The air was fresh in the night.
She spoke out to the dark, oh, but if only he could hear her. If only her voice could somehow reach him. She'd said so many prayers and none had been heard.
"I know I do not deserve it. But...If I could, I would take everything within me, every power I still have to find you...."
She paused, in the night, the calm after the storm. "Is this what it would take to see you again? Will we be reunited in death? If you are a ghost then I beg of you, please haunt me."
"I know I spoke to you that day. You saved me...but you did not stay with me. And you saved me again and again. You must still live somewhere."
" And I know that this too is my fault, why you won't come back to me. I did you a terrible wrong, one I may never be able to atone. But if you would simply let me try. At least to see you once again. Reinhardt, how I miss you. Please, in whatever form you are in now...come to me."
There was no sound on the wind, her prayers unanswered still. She would look again tomorrow, however long it took.
*
The bard's tale ended there, with the last strokes of his lute.
"And what, dear listener, happened to the princess and the knight? The legend of Browncloak is a long and storied one. Each bard added more to the tale. No tale is told quite the same. Some say the princess and the knight reunited finally, and wed, and finally found happiness. That they lived in a small villa for the rest of their days and helped war orphans together. That Reinhardt and his sister reconciled, and worked to build orphanages around the land of Friege."
Another few notes.
"Some say Queen Ishtar searched until the end of her days and never did find her lost knight, and died from an illness some years after, with a broken heart. That her life was one of loss: from her family, her former lover, to her beloved knight."
And more.
"Some say he took in an orphan and passed on the cloak before he passed from this mortal realm. Some say he reunited with his friend, the priest, and they traveled together healing and saving many in the land of Jugdral. Some say he was brought to another far off land, where he became a knight of great renown and served a new liege."
The bard paused for emphasis. His gaze was piercing, even cold, like the winds.
"What is known is that the family Schutaeze, and the remaining nobility of House Friege was protected, and still protected. Olwen's great, great, great grandchildren still report the bolt of lightning which might come from the silence, if any should ever try and harm them. And no brigand or rogue ever lasted long in Friege. They would be found, taken by the storms. Marks of lightning upon them."
The last notes, and his hand rested on the lute.
"Somewhere, Browncloak still rides. Be it as a ghost, a successor, or some other way. That sometimes when there's thunder on the horizon, it isn't a storm, but a person."
*
"And what?" the bard said.
"You wanted more? Another tale? A happy ending? Dear listener, this is Jugdral. A happy ending is hard to find in an era of this. Hundreds of thousands died. Many young lovers were torn apart by the Holy War. So many were burned in the flames. The story of two fated to a star-crossed love is common in a land such as this."
All around, the crowd of the bar had thinned. The bard considered his audience. Most were sleepy with drink, but at least not belligerent.
"Fine then, I'll tell you a little more," the bard said.
"Come closer. let me tell you a story."
His voice was different this time. Melodic, like a refrain of a chorus.
"Have you ever caught the scent of flames? The smell of human flesh burning is something you do not forget. Yes, the burnings of Augustria. Surely you have heard of them?" The bard said.
His long, elegant fingers strummed over the lute.
"Remember a winter's night. How you kept close to the hearth--too close. How the pleasantness of heart on a winter's night turned horrible as you almost scalded yourself. Or perhaps you did burn yourself. A small touch to the embers that ached until you found a bandage and put some ice upon it. In Silesse, we simply go outside for such burns. We place the snow and ice upon our burns until we can scarcely feel it. Then, the monks come."
"What? You've never heard of the land of Silesse?"
He looked sad momentarily at this. But, he regained his composure.
"Then I need to do my job better. Another day, I shall tell you. Of good Queen Lahna, Annand the brave, and...Queen Erinys. The most wise and beautiful queen Silesse ever knew. But, I digress."
"Picture it, the flames high, the smoke so thick you can barely breathe. The crowds would take them. Innocents, to the pyre while they still breathed. The burnings became even more popular after the Holy War. Having been beat down by the blood of Maera, many were convinced to extinguish any chance of the Loptyrian empire ever rising again."
He paused, a moment, a beat, for effect.
"And who did they set their sights upon? Yes, the one who had loved the tyrant, Julius. The woman who had once been queen, and abdicated the throne. With only a small battalion of soldiers and away from the balustrades, she was all too vulnerable."
*
One failure she'd had as a queen, one that she did not even know until she was here, in their grasp, was her inability to quell the rising popularity of the burnings. Burnings had always existed in Augustria to any suspected to be the blood of Maera. After so many lost their children to the dragon's dark rituals, they cried out for revenge.
And they found it in dragging away anyone who might have a birthmark, a mark unknown and forcing them into the flames.
They were done by the light of torches at night. Even when she sent guards to investigate, the people of Augustria were tight-lipped and secretive. They clung to their brutality like it would be their saving grace.
It was a dark night when the torches lit about her villa. There were so many, her battalion was quickly overwhelmed.
Minutes, perhaps. She'd just barely come out from reading in the small study, to see the executioner there at her door.
And then--the flash of magic, of staves. Her guards down in the thrall of magic.
Her guards still lived, though they'd been incapacitated. Some among them was a bishop, with staffs. They wore grotesque masks that covered their entire faces.
She still had Mjölnir. It was one of the few relics she had of her time as a Friegean Queen. Ishtar could not quite let this go.
She could unleash a force of power they couldn't imagine. Even if she died, she could drag many of them down with her.
But, she couldn't save them all. The blades were already pointed at her knights. Lit by the torches, their sleeping faces.
She'd let so many of her soldiers and people down. She couldn't bear to send these young knights to their deaths too.
"Please don't hurt them...I'll come willingly," she said.
It was what she deserved, after all.
She could've warped away, and hope her knights would be spared. But, she would be no coward. She would face this judgment, one she rightly deserved with bravery.
But, instead she strode ahead. Hands out to be shackled.
She'd chosen death before, and had been pulled back from the edge of darkness which had threatened to consume her whole. She had never outran that guilt.
If her death could be a comfort to all the families she had failed, whose children she couldn't save, then so be it.
*
"Why didn't she fight? She had lost everything. Her spirit was broken. She carried guilt so heavy as to drown. That is why she took this as a judgment of fate and allowed herself to be led to the flames willingly."
The bard considered his instrument. Tapped to the tune with his finger.
"She had chosen death before, and been saved. To her, it was familiar. The ability to crush all those around her with immense power, and choosing the relief of death to finally free her from such pain."
"Imagine to have the power of a god, but to lose everything. Her family, her love, her beloved knight, her place in House Friege. She could've killed each and every one of them. But she was kind, in the end. Too kind. She knew many of these were parents of children she hadn't been able to save. She would let herself be the effigy for their rage, and be the sacrifice if it would heal their lives."
*
She was tied to the pike. Tinder of sharp pikes and sticks was beneath her bare feet, filled with magic and some form of vile smelling accellerent.
With the light of magic, the flames rose higher in seconds. They devoured the wood and came for her. Her hair and long, flowing white dress were singed.
She had only just removed her clothes of mourning. She had only just accepted that grief would always be with her.
And now, she faced the flames of judgment for her wrong choices.
Beneath her, the pikes cracked, blackened, the heat turned overwhelming. She knew it would only get worse.
The most merciful fate would to choke on the smoke, her lungs full until she gasped desperately for breath. Her last images in this life the masked judgment as she died alone for the crimes of the war.
The children she couldn't save, who haunted her dreams and cried out for revenge and justice for their innocent lives cut short in such a brutal way.
Perhaps he was a legend. Perhaps it was a fever dream. Perhaps Reinhardt had died somewhere along the way. In this land, few were powerful enough to face him. But somewhere, someone must have.
She closed her eyes. Accepted her fate. It would always lead to this moment. She had been meant to die years ago, to join her family and Julius.
And Reinhardt, wherever he had ended up. This might be her first taste of the flames of hell that awaited her.
So many innocents had died like this. The children put to Loptous's flames, the people judged for being the blood of Maera. Now, she would join them. If it would sate their thirst for vengeance, and atone, then her death would not be in vain.
The first rain drop fell on her nose. She looked up to clouds so dark they made day look like night. The crack of thunder was so loud and near that someone's horse was spooked, she heard the desperate cries. A downpour like none she had ever seen, sheets of water drenched her. Her hair was wet, stuck to her face and neck, still the flames didn't dissipate beneath her, even is they hissed like a beast at the deluge.
Through the flames, she saw a man dismount.The mask hid his eyes, until only the grim set of his mouth could be seen. The fire singed his brown cloak, turning it black and smoking. The cloak slowly burned about him as he pushed through the flames.
The storm followed him, like he was its master, completely under his command.
Her gown had already begun to turn singed. He cut free her binds and pulled her from what would be the pyre and lifted her into his arms. She was carried like a bride, precious and held close to her chest.
"Reinhardt...You came for me..."
"I would never leave you to your death. Not as long as I still breathed."
She clutched tight to him as the world burned around them. The last of his cloak burned away to ash as he stepped free from what would be her pyre. It revealed an old, tattered uniform of Friege. Dark, mended many times. He hadn't let go of the past any more than she had.
The mask had become lopsided, cut from the side. She saw dark eyes she knew well.
There was nothing left of her would-be executioners. Their bodies were left blackened and unrecognizable from the force of the lightning and flames.
She reached up and removed the mask the rest of the way, and revealed Browncloak to be her Reinhardt.
Painful years had led up to this moment where they were finally reunited.
Behind them, the last of the flames were turned to smoking embers. The rain finally stopped, and she shuddered from the chill of the night.
"You didn't fight?" His voice was raspy. She couldn't tell if it was from the smoke, or from lack of use.
She clung tight to his arm. He was real, and truly there. Reinhardt lived, and had finally returned to her.
"It is what I deserve. For everyone I didn't save. I..."
"No."
"But, I didn't do enough--I cost so many lives with my indecision."
"No," he said with more feeling. The gentlest hush she'd known.
"You deserved more. You deserved better than the lot you got in life."
She reached out and gripped to his black coat. Still he wore the uniform of a mage knight of Friege. It showed wear, after many years and had many patches hidden in the darkness.
"Everyone deserved better than the lot we got. But, my choices hurt and killed many," she said.
"Reinhardt....I missed you. I missed you so much. If it takes all my life, I'll do my best to atone to you. Just please don't leave me alone again. Please. If you could find it within your heart to forgive me, even slightly, to stay with me. I'd understand if you'd hate me for what I did. I hate myself every day for it."
"...I never hated you. But, you released me from your service. I left to this life, for you did not...have use for me any more. I did not return because you did not wish for me to return."
Her eyes closed tight. "I never wanted you to leave. I never wanted too do this. But the things I did for Julius...for Loptous. I let my entire body be consumed by darkness, my entire family died. I lost everything. Even myself. I had nothing left, not even you."
"I wanted you to come back. I ached for it, prayed for it, and searched for you for so long..."
Her voice grew choked, desperate. "So you see, I'm not a person who deserves to live any longer. I understand if a person like me can't be forgiven, if only burning would cleanse my sins. You should have left me in the flames. Even as I was so relieved to see you again."
His arms pulled her close to his chest.
"Not as long as I draw breath. I swore to keep you safe. And it seems I must keep you safe from yourself, from the part of you which is unable to see your virtues and only sees the missteps along the way."
"Oh, Reinhardt..." Her voice broke. "How I've missed you. I felt you like a ghost. I would constantly look back as I ruled and wish you were there for I wanted so much to speak to you. To feel you there and know you calm and power and support."
He wiped the tears from her eyes. How she trembled. From cold, from what she'd endured, from his touch.
"If I fall asleep, will you be gone? Like the rest? Will this be a nightmare or endless dream? I have had so many. And I saw you in many more, like a specter."
"No. I'll still be here. I promise."
"Oh, I pray so. How I pray so."
*
That night, deep into the witching hours of the night, she woke up screaming. She hyperventilated, barely able to catch her breath as she clutched to her chest. Reinhardt was at the door in an instant. He hadn't shared rooms.
The knights had finally woken from their stupor, but they bedded in the other part of the villa. Reinhardt had stayed close to protect her. He was the one who reached her first. His tall, strong frame silhouetted in the door.
"Lady Ishtar what happened?"
She tried to calm her breath, and failed. Only when Reinhardt came close and spoke softly to her did she finally begin to breath easier.
"A night terror?"
She nodded. "Y-Yes."
"How long have you endured this torment?"
"For years. Since the end of the war. Maybe before. This monster has been with me for so long, I can scarcely remember when it began. Only that the horror visits me nigh every night. I awake to screams from the creatures I have witnessed."
He closed his eyes, and knelt close enough to hold her to his chest.
"I remembered that time upon the battlefield. I remember it so often. How it felt to be so cold and full of malice. How it felt to be a puppet on string and watch the kinds of things done with my body as it was taken from me."
Her voice broke.
""He tried to make me kill you. To punish me for struggling and trying to stop the hunts. The creature which took Julius...he did that to me. Loptous had such fathomless malice and cruelty. I had to fight at the cage of my very own body, as I watched as that...thing controlled me. The thing which I had loved, I had given everything up for. The darkness consumed me. I was nothing, nothing... I loved so much I lost myself. There was nothing left but Loptous's will. I could just watch. I barely could wrest free to save you. Julius, he....No, Loptous, he...."
She forced her eyes closed.
"When I was in that state, I saw him. Julius. And his eyes were dead. His heart was dead. He was a wraith of the man I loved, with tendrils of shadow pulling his strings of a dead host. Have you ever seen it? When a parasitic vine has taken over a tree and left it nothing but a skeleton as it sucks the life of it. Julius...he was like that. Loptous was the vine which strangled him and devoured him long before he died. And I loved that which tried to destroy me, and the entire world."
He stroked her hair as she instinctively curled into him. His strong arms held her close enough to keep the monsters of the past at bay.
"I should've returned sooner. I thought you no longer wished for me by your side," Reinhardt said. Sorrow had turned his voice hoarse.
"I needed you more than ever...even as I had no right to. I hurt you so deeply, even as I tried to save you. I broke the bond of trust we had. I...don't blame you for what you did. You kept to your duty even when I slighted you. More than I deserve."
"I should've swallowed my pain and stayed closer. Even if it hurt."
Hurt worse than the touch of the foul magic which had consumed her, used her and cast her aside as nothing more than useful.
"Reinhardt, I...I've wanted to tell you for so long, I... I..."
She let her body speak instead. She reached up and cupped his face tenderly. Her lips brushed across his. In the dark, there was a clarity between them.
He kissed her back with five years and more of longing. And without a word he returned what she had confessed in this kiss as he held to her so tight.
When she broke apart, she rested her head against his chest.
"For now on... let the past be the past," she said.
Even as she knew it would haunt her, and both of them for as long as they lived. This time, she wouldn't face it alone.
It was soft, hesitant how he leaned in and tenderly took her close and kissed her again. How his lips warmed her from the chill which had overtaken her from the moment she had gone too far for love, and lost her very being to the same creature which had taken one she once loved.
How love and life could come again, even within such tragedy.
And for the first time in many years, both of them felt the warmth of hope.
*
Now, the song ended.
"Is that a more satisfactory ending? What, is it true? What is truth? I am a bard. I tell stories, true or not."
"How would I know such a story?"
The bard smirked.
"I know many stories. It's my job, after all. Come again another day, and I'll tell you another story. Of a forest maiden who fell in love of a noble. Their love was forbidden, but so true. And how it ended. The flames scorched the earth in Bellhalla so much that plants still won't grow there. But, I get ahead of myself."
Gold left on the table. The bard put away his instrument. The hearth had died down. Most of the patrons had left. The bard tested his strings for the night, to make sure none were damaged.
And outside, a sky full of stars.
A/N:
POV you are in a bar with Lewyn and he tells you Reinhardt/Ishtar fanfiction while being enigmatic and weirdly sexy, and potentially being possessed by Forseti, and probably is like five thousand years old at this point and practically immortal and filled with the inherent sadness of immortals who have lost everything.
