fic: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
Aug. 2nd, 2024 01:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
Series: FE4/5 Jugdral
Character/pairing: Reinhardt, Ishtar (Some hints of Reinhardt/Ishtar, but tragic)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ishtar leads the Weissen Ritter as the Liberation army comes to finally liberate the country. She's seen enough of the Deadlords to recognize a new one. And to know this one seems somehow familiar....
Word count: 2437
Author's note:
.
So, apparently, the Deadlords in ENG are named after Latin forms of the Chinese Zodiac.
In Japanese, they're just German/Dutch numbers.
Because being named after the Chinese Zodiac doesn't exactly allow for adding more, I reverted to the original form Kaga did. It's a whole lot easier to go "fourteen, fifteen" than to try and make an OC animal for the Chinese Zodiac.
Also, this is hmm, minorly canonly AU only in that the last battle was a bit longer. Like, assume there was a big intermission of healing and falling back between waves of the last battle.
Julius here is just 100% Loptous at this point, to explain just how ruthless he is.
She knew death more intimately than she would've liked. Somehow who had loved Julius for this long couldn't live this long and not get her hands dirty...or witness the sorts.
She'd tried, so many damn times to break apart Julius and Manfroy. But, she didn't have a manipulator's heart.
(Lord Arvis had said as much, when he demanded she free the prisoners. The...children, the innocents, all taken by Julius.) left for dead, or worse.
The Deadlords had an odd stench, not just of decay, but of brimstone. Their eyes glowed red, in an empty, blank way. Even as they walked, they breathed, they didn't live.
They were made of pieces of people, she had to remind herself. Often under the order of Lord Julius himself.
Eins came before her. He was imposing, even in death, enclosed in metal as cold as death. She glanced down upon them, all the way to the last of them.
This rank of leader of the Weissen Ritter had been bestowed upon her when she dismissed Reinhardt. While meant as a gift, it felt more another weight upon her.
There was another. Her brow furrowed as she came closer. His face was covered by a helmet, yet she felt an uneasy sense of...something. She tried to figure it out.
It was like a cry, a call to alarm, this feeling. Of...familiarity? Recognition?
Yet, surely, it must be a stranger before her.
It had to be a stranger.
The thought that Julius would take someone of Friege, his allies, and turn them into...this was horrific. Unthinkable.
"Oh, I see you've met Dreizehn."
She flinched, and drew back. Then--forced a smile at the sight of her lover.
"Did I scare you?" Julius said.
He smirked.
"I...didn't expect you on the battlefield so soon. Are you to join me in this battle?"
"No, I'll await The Liberation Army there. Though, I doubt they will survive these Deadlords."
Julius gestured towards the Deadlord at the end.
"I simply couldn't wait to show you my latest masterpiece. I helped with this one personally. I expect he'll impress. Consider it a present to you for your service," he said.
"Ah..."
She couldn't bring herself to say more, though thanks would be expected.
It would be useless to explain that the last gift she ever wanted was a horribly corrupted dead being.
"I must return. I entrust the Deadlords to you."
"Yes...I will avenge my family whatever it takes," she said.
"I am sure you will unleash hell upon those insects that bother me at every turn," Julius said.
It'd came to her, a realization as of late. He never said 'we' anymore, never included her in the glorious plans he said to have. Maybe he'd learned of her treachery. Maybe he knew she was a traitor tenfold and more.
Maybe he'd tired of her, as she'd tired of him. Of this, of life.
She couldn't tell, she couldn't tell, she couldn't tell.
He smiled, enigmatic before he warped away, and disappeared into smoke.
She looked back to the Deadlords she would command.
She didn't know them in life. Surely not. It was a fluke. It had to be.
It was simply nerves that proceeded the battle.
She told herself. She told herself.
*
The numbers of the Liberation Army had rallied. It was nothing near the size of the Granvalle empire's forces, but they had survived thus far.
The Deadlords acted on their own.
So, their long journey would end here. Surely none could defeat these fell creatures, born of blood and sinew and flesh formed back to something like a human.
When the thunder came, it hit twice.
That tome...she almost thought it a dream, a nightmare.
But that wasn't the damning moment, but the sword in his hands. She knew it; she'd given it. Bestowed it upon him, a blessing, a title.
Called it the Blessed Sword, to keep him always safe in battle. He'd looked to her with such tenderness and gratitude as he accepted. On bended knee, he'd renewed his vows of loyalty to her. In the moment, she'd thought it'd felt like a marriage, a thought which stayed with her now.
Hands clenched, it felt as if the earth slid beneath her. As if there'd been an earthquake, but it was only the noise in her mind as she realized.
She realized.
Reinhardt had died at the river Thracia. She'd sent him to his death in her attempt to spare him.
Julius had been so excited about this one in particular. Julius had been so pleased to hear the news of Reinhardt's death. And this Deadlord wielded....Dire Thunder, and the Blessed sword.
As much as she wanted to believe that Reinhardt had met with a thief, and the report was wrong, she knew it couldn't be.
Julius had gifted her the broken body of her guard back to her.
And he'd done it so gleefully. Even as he knew that she had grieved Reinhardt, with such a ferocity that she hadn't even been able to say his name aloud after death.
Reinhardt hadn't even gotten the peace in death. His body had been defiled, corrupted into this...thing. And Julius had all but given the massacred corpse of him to her as a twisted present.
She remember Julius's smile, and shivered.
*
But, war meant she could not fall into sorrows too much. They came, the Liberation Army. Even as they were barely the size of a legion sent out, they made up for it in weapons passed down, and the desire for revenge.
Though she was to lead them, the Deadlords required no command. It brought the thought, one that she instantly wished to deny, that Julius had given her this title solely to seek revenge on Reinhardt, even beyond the grave.
When death came for her, she sought it. But she didn't go down without at least letting them feel Mjolnir's wrath. For Ishtore, who had been against the hunts, and had been slaughtered by them regardless.
She reminded herself that even if they shared sentiments, they were not her allies and would never be. Better to die than ever join those who killed her family.
And when death came, it came swift. A Holy blade, the cold metal in her body. Her lips parted, in a silent scream. The pain--she deserved it. The incoming judgment--she deserved it.
She deserved it all.
She threw away her morals, and even her last betrayal of Julius wasn't enough. It only made her feel ever more a pariah. She simply couldn't pick a side. Protecting the children, protecting Julius--she couldn't have both.
And in the end, she hadn't managed to save enough. Not Julius freed from whatever darkness had come upon him, and not the children she had tried to save.
She would not go quickly, not gently. She knew it, as unimaginable pain flooded her. The sword had hit her in the gut. A burning beneath her skin, an open world.
What was after this world? Whatever it was, she wouldn't find out. A ghost or flames, flames, all that was for her.
But, before Mystletainn could claim her as another of its victims, another sword met it--in a clash of steel.
Dreizehn--Reinhardt stood before her. Silent as ever. He lifted his hand, and peals of thunder sounded above them. A storm brewing, coming for the Liberation army.
The more they tried to advance, the more thunder rained upon them.
"Fall back, he's too strong!"
Was it the commander, or another? In this state, she couldn't tell.
Reinhardt, or Dreizhen as Julius had called him remained stood between them and her final end. The release from her pain, her guilt, and this life which had become a graveyard.
The wound was too deep. With no healers, she wouldn't survive it. She had gone in without any elixirs, should her cowardice make her falter. For death was what she had sought, in the end. And Reinhardt, in this form, had still found her. And made sure her death hadn't been alone.
"Reinhardt...I'm sorry. I doomed you to this. I gave you a fate worse than merely dying. I was trying to save you....I...."
She coughed and tasted blood in her mouth. The pain was overwhelming.
"I...made so many mistakes. I'm...sor...rry."
He dismounted and came closer. Would he finish her off? After she had dismissed him, perhaps this too was what she deserved.
"Go on...join the others. It is a command...as your leader...of the Weissen Ritter."
Sword drawn, he stood before her. Even in death, even corrupted into a horrific ghoul like this, something of Reinhardt still remained. A small spark.
"You're still in there...I'm a coward. I wanted you to stay. I didn't want to die...alone."
Her skin was so cold. The pain, once agonizing had become a dull echo.
"I'm glad for at least this....Thank you, Reinhardt."
It was the first time she'd managed to say his name since his death. And now, the last word on her lips.
Her eyes closed. The sound of thunder near was comforting, like home.
*
When the news of his lover's demise came, he said nothing, nothing, not a tear was shed. He'd said more at his father's death.
Merely, to the nearest cultist, "You know what to do."
And there was nothing to waste. The Loptyrian empire would not abide by that. The starving would always eat all the way to the bone. Nothing would be wasted, let alone someone with the blood of Thrud. Someone capable of wielding Mjölnir would wield it to death and beyond. The shambling, quaking horror that was being ripped from the grave and patched together to fight more in an unending battle.
And the red eyes of a boy who'd been devoured whole looked upon the battlefield. There was a slit there, draconic, cold. And he smiled, at the chaos there. The blood shed. The death that covered a land which would soon be his.
*
Out of the ashes, she was born. Bones gathered together with stitches of foul magic. Her sorrow and beauty remained, in paleness and not-death. Her smile was stiched on. She was dressed in a long white dress of the finest linen. A veil, pushed back was over her hair, held in place by a tiara. Thus was Julius's own command.
She looked almost dolllike, like a marionette brought back. Pull her strings, put her as one would.
"Veirzhen," was the name proclaimed as the first breath, like a scream. The only noise she would make.
And, why should the wight be dressed as a bride in white?
The Scion of Darkness said it himself.
"To remind Reinhardt, that even in death, I own her, just as I own this land. Her heart is mine to take or to devour as I please," said the dragon, not the boy.
*
A cloaked member of the Loptyrians approached the throne.
"The Liberation army fell back, but they are returning now, sire."
"How irritating, these bugs. No matter how much I swat at them, they keep coming. No matter. Is their little surprise ready?" Julius said.
"Yes, completely. Vierzhen and Dreizen will give them a warm welcome. Some of the other Deadlords fell during that battle, as did Manfroy, but it is nothing to worry about. Others can be made from the many corpses. There were some promising generals that died in battle, and Manfroy himself would make a glorious Deadlord."
"Manfroy was a fool. Not fit to see this glorious empire. There's plenty who can fill his place," Julius said.
Julius laughed softly. "I bet that fool would love to become a Deadlord, for the cause of the return of the Loptyrian empire. Glad to shed his blood. At least he was loyal, even if he couldn't fulfill his task in the end."
Julius looked out upon the land. His land. His world to destroy or mold as he saw fit. Such was the role of a god, after all.
"So the last of Friege has fallen. If she failed me in life, then at least she can make some use in death," Julius said.
And that was that. The last of Friege left as bones white on the battlefield, cobbled together and meshed into something horrific. Something useful.
*
The sound of hoofbeats, coming closer. The sound of thunder, coming closer.
Even in death, Mjölnir would respond to her call. She came out, a bride discarded in death, but the bones kept. Dreizhen kept close, his sword (once called blessed, now surely cursed) drawn.
Vierzhen and Dreizen, once known as Reinhardt and Ishtar. Not even death could keep them apart. It had taken this to reunite them.
Not a word was said between them, but they stayed close. The electricity in the air was palatable as the armies came.
One thing was for sure: death would follow, wherever these deathless went.
*
Author's note:
I'm just saying, a part of me is surprised that Ishtar didn't end up Deadlord'd, or like, spontaneously Lewyn!Forseti'd by whatever dragon Mjölnir came from.
Also surprised that Julius wasn't petty enough to make Reinhardt into a Deadlord. @ Kaga, explain.
Anyways, I saw Reinhardt being dressed up like a slightly stylized Dark Knight, while poor Ish got the Corpse Bride treatment, solely so Julius can give Reinhardt one last 'fuck you' through the grave.
Series: FE4/5 Jugdral
Character/pairing: Reinhardt, Ishtar (Some hints of Reinhardt/Ishtar, but tragic)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ishtar leads the Weissen Ritter as the Liberation army comes to finally liberate the country. She's seen enough of the Deadlords to recognize a new one. And to know this one seems somehow familiar....
Word count: 2437
Author's note:
.
So, apparently, the Deadlords in ENG are named after Latin forms of the Chinese Zodiac.
In Japanese, they're just German/Dutch numbers.
Because being named after the Chinese Zodiac doesn't exactly allow for adding more, I reverted to the original form Kaga did. It's a whole lot easier to go "fourteen, fifteen" than to try and make an OC animal for the Chinese Zodiac.
Also, this is hmm, minorly canonly AU only in that the last battle was a bit longer. Like, assume there was a big intermission of healing and falling back between waves of the last battle.
Julius here is just 100% Loptous at this point, to explain just how ruthless he is.
She knew death more intimately than she would've liked. Somehow who had loved Julius for this long couldn't live this long and not get her hands dirty...or witness the sorts.
She'd tried, so many damn times to break apart Julius and Manfroy. But, she didn't have a manipulator's heart.
(Lord Arvis had said as much, when he demanded she free the prisoners. The...children, the innocents, all taken by Julius.) left for dead, or worse.
The Deadlords had an odd stench, not just of decay, but of brimstone. Their eyes glowed red, in an empty, blank way. Even as they walked, they breathed, they didn't live.
They were made of pieces of people, she had to remind herself. Often under the order of Lord Julius himself.
Eins came before her. He was imposing, even in death, enclosed in metal as cold as death. She glanced down upon them, all the way to the last of them.
This rank of leader of the Weissen Ritter had been bestowed upon her when she dismissed Reinhardt. While meant as a gift, it felt more another weight upon her.
There was another. Her brow furrowed as she came closer. His face was covered by a helmet, yet she felt an uneasy sense of...something. She tried to figure it out.
It was like a cry, a call to alarm, this feeling. Of...familiarity? Recognition?
Yet, surely, it must be a stranger before her.
It had to be a stranger.
The thought that Julius would take someone of Friege, his allies, and turn them into...this was horrific. Unthinkable.
"Oh, I see you've met Dreizehn."
She flinched, and drew back. Then--forced a smile at the sight of her lover.
"Did I scare you?" Julius said.
He smirked.
"I...didn't expect you on the battlefield so soon. Are you to join me in this battle?"
"No, I'll await The Liberation Army there. Though, I doubt they will survive these Deadlords."
Julius gestured towards the Deadlord at the end.
"I simply couldn't wait to show you my latest masterpiece. I helped with this one personally. I expect he'll impress. Consider it a present to you for your service," he said.
"Ah..."
She couldn't bring herself to say more, though thanks would be expected.
It would be useless to explain that the last gift she ever wanted was a horribly corrupted dead being.
"I must return. I entrust the Deadlords to you."
"Yes...I will avenge my family whatever it takes," she said.
"I am sure you will unleash hell upon those insects that bother me at every turn," Julius said.
It'd came to her, a realization as of late. He never said 'we' anymore, never included her in the glorious plans he said to have. Maybe he'd learned of her treachery. Maybe he knew she was a traitor tenfold and more.
Maybe he'd tired of her, as she'd tired of him. Of this, of life.
She couldn't tell, she couldn't tell, she couldn't tell.
He smiled, enigmatic before he warped away, and disappeared into smoke.
She looked back to the Deadlords she would command.
She didn't know them in life. Surely not. It was a fluke. It had to be.
It was simply nerves that proceeded the battle.
She told herself. She told herself.
*
The numbers of the Liberation Army had rallied. It was nothing near the size of the Granvalle empire's forces, but they had survived thus far.
The Deadlords acted on their own.
So, their long journey would end here. Surely none could defeat these fell creatures, born of blood and sinew and flesh formed back to something like a human.
When the thunder came, it hit twice.
That tome...she almost thought it a dream, a nightmare.
But that wasn't the damning moment, but the sword in his hands. She knew it; she'd given it. Bestowed it upon him, a blessing, a title.
Called it the Blessed Sword, to keep him always safe in battle. He'd looked to her with such tenderness and gratitude as he accepted. On bended knee, he'd renewed his vows of loyalty to her. In the moment, she'd thought it'd felt like a marriage, a thought which stayed with her now.
Hands clenched, it felt as if the earth slid beneath her. As if there'd been an earthquake, but it was only the noise in her mind as she realized.
She realized.
Reinhardt had died at the river Thracia. She'd sent him to his death in her attempt to spare him.
Julius had been so excited about this one in particular. Julius had been so pleased to hear the news of Reinhardt's death. And this Deadlord wielded....Dire Thunder, and the Blessed sword.
As much as she wanted to believe that Reinhardt had met with a thief, and the report was wrong, she knew it couldn't be.
Julius had gifted her the broken body of her guard back to her.
And he'd done it so gleefully. Even as he knew that she had grieved Reinhardt, with such a ferocity that she hadn't even been able to say his name aloud after death.
Reinhardt hadn't even gotten the peace in death. His body had been defiled, corrupted into this...thing. And Julius had all but given the massacred corpse of him to her as a twisted present.
She remember Julius's smile, and shivered.
*
But, war meant she could not fall into sorrows too much. They came, the Liberation Army. Even as they were barely the size of a legion sent out, they made up for it in weapons passed down, and the desire for revenge.
Though she was to lead them, the Deadlords required no command. It brought the thought, one that she instantly wished to deny, that Julius had given her this title solely to seek revenge on Reinhardt, even beyond the grave.
When death came for her, she sought it. But she didn't go down without at least letting them feel Mjolnir's wrath. For Ishtore, who had been against the hunts, and had been slaughtered by them regardless.
She reminded herself that even if they shared sentiments, they were not her allies and would never be. Better to die than ever join those who killed her family.
And when death came, it came swift. A Holy blade, the cold metal in her body. Her lips parted, in a silent scream. The pain--she deserved it. The incoming judgment--she deserved it.
She deserved it all.
She threw away her morals, and even her last betrayal of Julius wasn't enough. It only made her feel ever more a pariah. She simply couldn't pick a side. Protecting the children, protecting Julius--she couldn't have both.
And in the end, she hadn't managed to save enough. Not Julius freed from whatever darkness had come upon him, and not the children she had tried to save.
She would not go quickly, not gently. She knew it, as unimaginable pain flooded her. The sword had hit her in the gut. A burning beneath her skin, an open world.
What was after this world? Whatever it was, she wouldn't find out. A ghost or flames, flames, all that was for her.
But, before Mystletainn could claim her as another of its victims, another sword met it--in a clash of steel.
Dreizehn--Reinhardt stood before her. Silent as ever. He lifted his hand, and peals of thunder sounded above them. A storm brewing, coming for the Liberation army.
The more they tried to advance, the more thunder rained upon them.
"Fall back, he's too strong!"
Was it the commander, or another? In this state, she couldn't tell.
Reinhardt, or Dreizhen as Julius had called him remained stood between them and her final end. The release from her pain, her guilt, and this life which had become a graveyard.
The wound was too deep. With no healers, she wouldn't survive it. She had gone in without any elixirs, should her cowardice make her falter. For death was what she had sought, in the end. And Reinhardt, in this form, had still found her. And made sure her death hadn't been alone.
"Reinhardt...I'm sorry. I doomed you to this. I gave you a fate worse than merely dying. I was trying to save you....I...."
She coughed and tasted blood in her mouth. The pain was overwhelming.
"I...made so many mistakes. I'm...sor...rry."
He dismounted and came closer. Would he finish her off? After she had dismissed him, perhaps this too was what she deserved.
"Go on...join the others. It is a command...as your leader...of the Weissen Ritter."
Sword drawn, he stood before her. Even in death, even corrupted into a horrific ghoul like this, something of Reinhardt still remained. A small spark.
"You're still in there...I'm a coward. I wanted you to stay. I didn't want to die...alone."
Her skin was so cold. The pain, once agonizing had become a dull echo.
"I'm glad for at least this....Thank you, Reinhardt."
It was the first time she'd managed to say his name since his death. And now, the last word on her lips.
Her eyes closed. The sound of thunder near was comforting, like home.
*
When the news of his lover's demise came, he said nothing, nothing, not a tear was shed. He'd said more at his father's death.
Merely, to the nearest cultist, "You know what to do."
And there was nothing to waste. The Loptyrian empire would not abide by that. The starving would always eat all the way to the bone. Nothing would be wasted, let alone someone with the blood of Thrud. Someone capable of wielding Mjölnir would wield it to death and beyond. The shambling, quaking horror that was being ripped from the grave and patched together to fight more in an unending battle.
And the red eyes of a boy who'd been devoured whole looked upon the battlefield. There was a slit there, draconic, cold. And he smiled, at the chaos there. The blood shed. The death that covered a land which would soon be his.
*
Out of the ashes, she was born. Bones gathered together with stitches of foul magic. Her sorrow and beauty remained, in paleness and not-death. Her smile was stiched on. She was dressed in a long white dress of the finest linen. A veil, pushed back was over her hair, held in place by a tiara. Thus was Julius's own command.
She looked almost dolllike, like a marionette brought back. Pull her strings, put her as one would.
"Veirzhen," was the name proclaimed as the first breath, like a scream. The only noise she would make.
And, why should the wight be dressed as a bride in white?
The Scion of Darkness said it himself.
"To remind Reinhardt, that even in death, I own her, just as I own this land. Her heart is mine to take or to devour as I please," said the dragon, not the boy.
*
A cloaked member of the Loptyrians approached the throne.
"The Liberation army fell back, but they are returning now, sire."
"How irritating, these bugs. No matter how much I swat at them, they keep coming. No matter. Is their little surprise ready?" Julius said.
"Yes, completely. Vierzhen and Dreizen will give them a warm welcome. Some of the other Deadlords fell during that battle, as did Manfroy, but it is nothing to worry about. Others can be made from the many corpses. There were some promising generals that died in battle, and Manfroy himself would make a glorious Deadlord."
"Manfroy was a fool. Not fit to see this glorious empire. There's plenty who can fill his place," Julius said.
Julius laughed softly. "I bet that fool would love to become a Deadlord, for the cause of the return of the Loptyrian empire. Glad to shed his blood. At least he was loyal, even if he couldn't fulfill his task in the end."
Julius looked out upon the land. His land. His world to destroy or mold as he saw fit. Such was the role of a god, after all.
"So the last of Friege has fallen. If she failed me in life, then at least she can make some use in death," Julius said.
And that was that. The last of Friege left as bones white on the battlefield, cobbled together and meshed into something horrific. Something useful.
*
The sound of hoofbeats, coming closer. The sound of thunder, coming closer.
Even in death, Mjölnir would respond to her call. She came out, a bride discarded in death, but the bones kept. Dreizhen kept close, his sword (once called blessed, now surely cursed) drawn.
Vierzhen and Dreizen, once known as Reinhardt and Ishtar. Not even death could keep them apart. It had taken this to reunite them.
Not a word was said between them, but they stayed close. The electricity in the air was palatable as the armies came.
One thing was for sure: death would follow, wherever these deathless went.
*
Author's note:
I'm just saying, a part of me is surprised that Ishtar didn't end up Deadlord'd, or like, spontaneously Lewyn!Forseti'd by whatever dragon Mjölnir came from.
Also surprised that Julius wasn't petty enough to make Reinhardt into a Deadlord. @ Kaga, explain.
Anyways, I saw Reinhardt being dressed up like a slightly stylized Dark Knight, while poor Ish got the Corpse Bride treatment, solely so Julius can give Reinhardt one last 'fuck you' through the grave.
