fic: Dire Fire (4)
Dec. 8th, 2024 08:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: Dire Fire (4)
Series: FE4/5 Jugdral
Character/pairing: Reinhardt/Ishtar, Arvis
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Ishtar reveals that Julius hates Arvis, and that she has dismissed Reinhardt from her service, Arvis decides to make one last stand and convince Reinhardt to join his side.
Abandoned by Friege, and his leige, Reinhardt becomes a knight of Velthomer, and Arvis's very own secret weapon to wage war upon Granvalle.
Two extremely powerful men, wronged by Julius, with nothing left to live for but revenge. How the weave of fate changes in their hands. And how the Loptyrian empire will burn.
Word count: 7858
Author's note:
4. Alight.
Lord gimme that fire
Lord gimme that fire
Lord gimme that fire
Burn, burn, burn
Oh, a thousand faces staring at me
Thousand times
I've fallen
Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
Barns Country, Fire
Two words said, in lieu of a greeting. The coldness of his voice left a chill inside her where once there'd been the warmth of love.
"Explain yourself."
She curtseyed, eyes down.
"I'm sorry, my lord Julius."
He lifted her chin. His grip was tight enough to cause a shot of pain through her. Hard enough to bruise. He forced her to look him in the eyes and forced the eye contact. His red eyes were unearthly, like burning red coals as he studied her. Like he was looking at her very soul.
It came to mind that this was how many who served Julius met their end.
And she did not recognize him in that moment. The man she loved, who Reinhardt claimed was a monster. Like a fairy tale, she'd hoped to free him from the spell Manfroy had surely put him under.
One day, the boy who had always been her friend, and whom she had loved, came back wrong. And no amount of time or trying had ever been able to change that.
It'd happened the same day his mother, Deirdre had died. Those around him had blamed grief, and in her youth, she had thought the same. She had stayed closer when maids ended up with bruises and guards went missing.
And that was before the children began to go missing, one by one. Each year claimed more.
She always told herself--reminded herself, tried to assure herself--that she would never be on the receiving end of that coldness and violence. Because he loved her. And she loved him. That one day this nightmare would end and she would wake and the Julius she knew would return.
And every time she thought, perhaps, something was wrong--her mother would come to her. Tell her again of course you love him, dear. You're thinking irrationally. You don't know what you're saying.
And she would let the protest die in her mouth. Just as it had before, when she'd joined Ishtore against the hunts.
But, then her brother died. And she didn't wake up, no matter how hard she tried. Every day this war continued on, with more brutality, and less hope that her Julius--the one who had been kind, and gentle--would ever return.
These days, it took more and more reassurance to achieve that. And when she thought--dreamed--of a life without Julius, she only came face to face with the stark reality of a hanging noose, and the WelkenRosen as the only fate she could have.
She'd seen him execute traitors right in front of her. She'd heard their cries, their pleas in the end. All ignored as Julius's hand would raise, his eyes like a flash of fire.
His touch upon her felt as much a death sentence now, as it was.
And she wondered, had they been examples for her as well? She'd always thought that she was the exception. But now, a traitor as she was, she would join the rest of the dead if he ever found out.
"Do not hide behind courtesy with me. I found you in another man's arms. Reinhardt's arms, even more of a slap in the face. In front of everyone, no less. I told you I didn't want to have him get between us. Had you not begged, I would've plucked out the eyes that dared to look at you."
His eyes were the void, a hell of hatred. How Reinhardt had managed to escape his fury for so long, even she could not say. For her attempts to mollify Julius's rages worked far less.
"I should've killed him then. I should've ignored your pleas," Julius said, before she could respond.
"I....I...was gathering information, Lord Julius. Y-You know you have my complete loyalty and love. He is no longer a member of House Friege and...."
Her voice wavered, and she stopped and said no more.
"I...must lookout for the good standing of my House. I wanted to hear what he had to say, to do such a thing as turn aside from the House that gave him everything."
As empty as it had become. Who hadn't died had defected.
"Hmm. Interesting. And what did you glean from your former vassal?"
"N-Nothing much, I am afraid. Reinhardt is rather stoic. And there was not much we could say over the music. But, I tried. For you, my lord Julius. You know you have all my love and loyalty."
He released her. Her skin might bruise from how tightly he had held her.
This wasn't the first time she'd had to hide a bruise with a little jewelry he'd given her after. When she'd told her mother, Hilda had said that it was just proof he loved her. And that she should surely await his marriage proposal. Otherwise he wouldn't be so jealous to threaten to kill for her, or hold her so tight.
And look there, proof of his love right on her skin.
But, when she looked Julius in the eyes, she didn't recognize the man she had loved so long ago.
"Your attempt at getting me information, failed as it was, is not appreciated. I'll forgive your attempt this time, but don't let me ever see you in another man's arms again."
"Ah...sorry, my lord."
Julius's lips curled into a smirk.
"Reinhardt hasn't much longer to live, anyways. Let him and father scheme. Let them kick and struggle. It matters not. They'll be dead before long. This time, your pleas will be meaningless. I suppose it will make things more fun. I might get bored otherwise."
"Now, shall we get dinner, my dear? You look lovely in that dress. You will be quite beautiful on my arm."
His voice was almost genial now. Such a difference from before.
She nodded, and said no more. She'd begun to believe that Julius liked her better when she was silent.
*
Torches showed swatches of poverty, thatched and fragile houses and the peasants that lived in them. These were the ones helpless. Few of the nobles who claimed to support Julius's vision would send their children to Loptous. Only the poorest, the least protected could go.
The sounds of screams and creaky wheels filled the night. Please, not my child! Take me to the flames of Loptous instead! Kill me instead! Anything but my daughter!
And the sobbing, the shrieks, the crying. Both of the parents, and the children. The light from the torches reflected off the breastplates of the soldiers, and the weapons they clutched tight.
Spears, sheathed swords, and bows at the ready. Far too much for the pitchforks and rusty swords that these villagers could scrap together.
The hoarse cries turned to sobs so harsh that the mother could barely breathe. Her face in the dirt, as she reached out helplessly. A caravan of cages, filled with a harvest of innocents. So many stolen that they could barely move.
The door of the cage shut closed. Little hands clung to the tines of the cages, covered in dirt. Tear stains ran rivers through their dirty faces. The splayed fingers of a desperate mother reached out.
"I should kill you, but I wouldn't want to waste the time wiping your blood off my sword," said one of the soldiers.
His boot came down upon her hand, as she reached out. Her cry was muffled, her face forced into the mud by another.
A seared cape, and a figure in the night, lighted only by the first flash of light. Enough to blind, not merely for soldiers, but for innocents, too. They'd already seen far too much. And these cages were far too flammable.
He came behind them, and what soldiers glanced back, didn't give him a second's thought. For he wore the robes of Velthomer. They worked hand in hand with cloaked cultists.
To this leader, Reinhardt was just another nameless general or cultist, here to collect the horrible spoils of this war.
The leader of the soldiers turned to him. He was an older mercenary, scarred from battle. Granvalle had taken to hiring Thracian mercenaries to fill the ranks that Reinhardt kept destroying.
"There you are, General--" were the last words out of his mouth.
Reinhardt's sword found its mark, right through the throat of this captain. Blood dripped down his mouth, as Reinhardt pulled back his weapon, for a second attack. Before a shield could even be fully lifted, Reinhardt buried his sword deep in the man's chest.
More red joined the flame patterns on Reinhardt's cape. And more would join it before the night was over.
The man's armor was nothing to the Blessed Sword. His last memory of what he once had been. The metal parted, as the blade found its mark. Reinhardt found it quite easy to coat his blades with magic. The Blessed Sword was so well made that it could withstand the constant heating of the molten heat of flame magic upon it.
Before a warning of an ambush could be spoken aloud, before swords and shields were even unsheathed, flames rained down upon them. The flames came so easily to him. Even if he was born of Friege, with the magic of lightning that led him down this path. Of general, the youngest in generations. Of the protector of the precious princess of the land. To guard her with his life, to be eternally loyal to her.
Even if that path had been so clearly marked off for him--and so easily destroyed--The fire of vengeance came to him so easily. The flames that had rocked Jugdral once had come again in another wronged man.
Thracian steel was no match for Velthomer fire. How the bodies burned, a bonfire high before their would-be prisoners.
Beneath the cloak, the hints of a smile at the charred bodies.
These captured little ones ones would not go to Julius. Not this time.
The female villager dared to lift up her face from the mud, and stared up at him with a tear-streaked face. She crawled to try and put herself between the caged children from this new threat.
"A-Are you our savior, or are you going to kill us too? Please, sir...I beg of you. have mercy upon us," her voice was hoarse from screaming. Her voice trembled. She trembled.
He lifted one gloved finger to his mouth.
"I'm just a ghost, come to bring vengeance. Pay me no mind, you're not my target."
"I could see it, the death upon you. You've been dead a while, Sir Ghost."
From the moment she had sent him away, and from the moment Arvis pulled him from the ashes and crowned him with vengeance and a book of flames. Ever since then, he'd ceased to be, but of steel and fire, a weapon to be sunk deep into this kingdom, to tear until nothing of it was left.
"Yes, I left my life behind some time ago. I am nothing more than a tool now."
Once he'd been Princess Ishtar's sword and shield. He'd protected her with every breath of his being. Now, he was Arvis's dagger, Tipped in poison and ashes and to be sunk into the back of his son, and unleashed upon the Jugdral which Arvis had built up.
For what a ruler builds he can destroy, with whatever weapons he held. And what was Reinhardt, but a weapon to be used as his liege wished?
He touched the lock to sear it apart. The children were wary, but he stepped aside. Children stumbled out, tear stained and full of sobs. A little girl ran to the arms of the woman on the ground. He left before they could say another word. He didn't need thanks, or to be lifted up as a hero. That was of an earlier man, left in the river Thracia along with the dead Gelben Ritter.
Reinhardt was no longer the Second coming of Thrud, a hero of Friege. He was little more than an agent of death at this point. He would kill countless, until one day he was killed. An inglorious shallow grave awaited him, and he knew it.
He expected no thanks, no glory. He left to the night, to wipe the blood from his sword. His gloves, once pristine white, now were always stained red, from blood, and brown from the dirt and mire. He'd switched to dark black. Easier to hide the charred black and ashes from the fire magic. Easier to hide the bloodstains.
*
She grew glad for the parting, the meetings in dark caverns with chanting which did not include her. When the Loptyrian empire was slowly waking up, with prayers for their god to return. When she did not have to be by Julius's side.
She could slip out, by nightfall. A cloak over her dress. She'd memorized the words of the warp spell, until she never even needed to bring a scroll or tome along to travel.
The feeling? Like being ripped apart and sewn back together in cold. But, she grew used to it. Being of House Friege was to deny herself and become a warrior fit to rule.
She knew the caravan was to arrive, the plans, the dates. She'd managed to overhear many of them, simply by being Julius's lover. The more she declared her love and loyalty, the more she betrayed him.
A lantern lit the night. Soon, she was to meet her contact. She wouldn't know if it'd be a humble priest this time, or a retainer of Arvis, or Reinhardt himself. She never knew which would answer the summons. A stranger, or someone who had been her closest, and now was little more than a stranger.
She kept her hair back in a bun, and didn't show her face. Other than Reinhardt, the rest accepted her story that she was merely a mercenary. No one of note.
Even more, there was always the chance that who would meet her would be a hooded figure to drag her to the depths. One of the WelkenRosen, or the capital guard.
(Though, if she wasn't ambushed, and overwhelmed, Mjölnir could cut through entire armies, as long as she had warning.)
But, it was a familiar figure who met her. She was tall, and strong. Ishtar recognized the general when the hood came back. Faint pale hair, a sharp face and blue eyes. Her eyes were a bit more drawn, a bit more filled with sadness from the last time Princess Ishtar had seen her.
"General Amalda? You too, are one of the Liberation Army?"
"Princes Ishtar...." Her voice was guarded. A previous storm had plastered her pale bob to her face.
Princess Ishtar dared to lower her hood as well. In politeness, in solidarity.
General Amalda looked her over.
"Are you here with Reinhardt? Or are you with Julius?"
"You've seen him, then?" Ishtar said. Hope still filled her voice.
"Reinhardt? Yes. We have worked together recently. Though, he is of House Velthomer now. He serves Lord Arvis. I only heard the news recently. It still confuses me, to be honest."
Ishtar was silent.
"I...am here to help Lord Arvis," Ishtar said. "And I am alone."
But that was only part of it.
She was here to help the children. She was here to right things. She was here to help Julius. Somehow, these paths had to converge into one. Even when she went back. Even when she paid fealty, with lying lips.
"I didn't realize you were one of the one--the contact I would meet today. There's many of us. You should know. You and Lord Ishtore started the movement itself with your work."
She bit her lip and remained silent. When Ishtore had fallen, so had the movement. She had not been strong enough to keep it herself. She had acquiesced and joined in on what she hated.
All for love...Or was it cowardice? Was love a routine she couldn't escape? Were the words 'I love you' merely the mind-numbing habit eternally repeated?
Until recently, when she'd turned her back on her lover to try and save the children.
"You have joined the liberation army, then?"
"To join those who slaughtered my brother and father? Who took Tine away from me? I couldn't. Even if I sympathize with their cause, I couldn't ally myself with those murderers. But... I sympathize with them. I, too, wish the hunts to end. They are a brutal practice."
"I thought it odd, to hear you joined the hunts. I thought I was completely mistaken. For you and Ishtore were so against it once. You swore that would change Julius. But, it was you who were changed in the end. It was a sad day when we heard that the Royal House of Friege were seen among the caravans, when once they had spoken out against them."
"I was not changed. I still feel the same. I..."
She was--what? There was no excuse, barely an explanation how she had slipped down this ravine.
It started with a little moment. She tried to convince Julius, and he told her she was wrong.
A fight, and how Julius would convince her that she was mistaken. And how could she think that of the one she loved? How could she say such things about the one she loved?
And her mother tried to convince her, that she was mistaken. Ishtore would've understood once he realized. It was all a big misunderstanding. A case of the Liberation Army spreading lies.
And he told her, come with me. I'll show you that you're mistaken.
And he told her come with me to Miletos, we'll call a ball.
And mother said you know you love him. He'll marry you soon.
And little by little, she thought perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps I am mistaken. I will try, just this once, to see if Julius truly is simply helping them as he claims.
And she thought, Just this once. I will see for myself who is lying.
Little by little, her defenses were worn down. Like water cracking a stone in the cold.
This was how her path of darkness started. The little belief inside her that maybe she should let Julius explain himself. Even as a part of her knew--that Manfroy was her enemy. One that she had been fighting all along.
No matter the excuses, no matter the convoluted explanation, the starkness of her cowardice stared her in the face. Now, she was a woman of both sides. Loyalty spread from House to House. She would be a shame of her House if she was ever revealed.
"I'm glad to see you've returned to helping the children, Princess. I knew you weren't cruel. I knew there must be some mistake."
"Is that what they said of me?" Princess Ishtar said.
It's what I deserve in the end.
"It is--best not to focus on such things. The time is short."
Princess Ishtar let out a breath. "Of course. Take them to safety."
"And where will you go?"
"Back to Granvalle," she said flatly. "I am a daughter of House Friege. Where else would I be, but there? But, even as I am by Julius's side, I am fulfilling Lord Arvis's command. For everyone's sake. I hope you understand there is some...discretion."
"I understand. I never saw you here. Besides, I am no longer of the court. Not until these blood-stained hands are cleansed."
And, the unsaid.
Who are you loyal to, Princess Ishtar? Do you even know anymore? You lay down with your lover with a knife in your hands, ready to stab him in the back and steal his prey. You say you love him, and even you don't know what the words mean anymore. They are an empty repetition of fealty for a lord you no longer serve.
Who are you loyal to, Princess Ishtar?
*
Exhaustion was like a haze. He'd have to find shelter and rest. He hoped his sleep would be dreamless. He'd dreamt of her over and over.
The snippets of memories, of her smile. And the nightmares of her upon the battlefield, slain without him to protect him.
Sometimes they slipped into each other, like water down a waterfall. The smiling princess shifted to scenes of her imminent, gruesome death.
And what could he say to this revanant which haunted his dreams? Except that, it was her choice in the end.
In the dark, her voice, like a dream. For a moment, he thought it another dream.
She'd found him again. Appeared from the dark of the wood.
A sharp intake of breath, and her soft voice. Like a caress.
"Reinhardt... Our paths cross again."
Her hair was tied back in a messy bun at her nape. A cloak covered her dress, and she'd left behind her Friegean dress for a more modest, darker traveling dress. Her bangles and gold were left behind.
Still, even this attempt to hide herself as a traveler couldn't hide her beauty. Nothing could. He would love her and find her beautiful if cloaked in rags, if cloaked in mourning garb, if wearing a wedding dress to marry another.
But, the exhaustion left him drawn. And the embers of hate within him which Lord Arvis had alighted would not be merely doused at the sight of her.
He remembered Lord Arvis's words.
Let it fuel your hate. Feel it burn inside you. Even more as she is by his side...and in his arms. Never forget what Julius has stripped away from your grasp. And pay it back to him tenfold as you burn down his kingdom.
He couldn't let his love for her conquer him. It'd almost killed him once. His hand tensed, clenched. Once, he'd been known as Thunder's fist. Her protector. Her shield.
No more.
"Does he know you're here?"
"Of course not."
"I'm surprised you could leave this long without his asking of you. He would not be so forgiving if he realized what you have done. Or has he loosened the tether now that I am sent away?" Reinhardt said.
He continued. "You promised he would protect you."
"Any bandits that would try and attack me would be left in Mjölnir's wake."
"And who will protect you from there? I see a bruise there, even in this light. It isn't the first time I've seen you cover a bruise with jewelry bestowed upon you."
A sharp breath.
"I..."
"There is little you can hide from a guard as close as me, my--Lady Ishtar."
Old habits died hard.
"You didn't tell them, then," Reinhardt said.
"....You thought I would betray you to Julius?" Her voice was filled with pain.
"You already chose him once. Choosing him again would be expected at this point," Reinhardt said.
She remained silent at that.
"Julius and Manfroy, they're....Doing something important to the Loptyrian empire." Her voice was so flat. She knew. She knew.
"On days like this, I can withdraw to my chambers early. Mother joins them now. Few would look for me, as few are left alive in House Friege even to serve...."
"Besides,I should think I would be able to spend a night apart from him without fire from the heavens raining down upon me."
"Heavens, my lady? More like fire from hell, if it is from Julius."
"He isn't dead yet," she said.
"Godspeed," Reinhardt said.
"He was kind once, Reinhardt."
"That offers no comfort to his victims, my lady," Reinhardt said. "And certainly none to me."
She glanced aside. "You've changed, Reinhardt. You're much harsher. You never would've spoken like this before."
And the unsaid: Never to me. You never would've raised this concern to me. You never would've said anything like this.
And he would've. He would've taken these words, these complaints to his grave. He would've died with a smile on his face, all for her. He would've taken fighting for her, even unto the death, even for the wrong cause, as an honor. Worn it as his coat of arms, wrapped himself in it. Let himself be buried in it.
Never mind that once he'd served her. And now, they were near equals in title and power. For Lord Arvis had heaped with what little power he had, title of lordship upon lordship upon him. If Julius were to so unfortunately die suddenly, it might be Reinhardt at the seat of the throne with how many titles Lord Arvis had given him. Things Reinhardt found after the burning. Said in passing, with little fanfare.
A simple You've done well. I've added a few titles to your name.
Of course, they were mere paper. Useless in the end. Done merely to annoy Julius than any real rebellion. Declarations of war signed in common conversation.
"Lord Arvis forged something within me. He made me realize the depth of the hate inside me, and turned it into a weapon. And the consequences, well. You can see them well. I no longer am on bended knee to you. In truth, now we are likely equals or close to it."
"Has Lord Arvis bestowed that much power to you?"
"And more. He has given me the very life back to me, in order for me to kill. And to repay that debt, many will die as he wills it."
Burned out towers and forts all across the countryside. The armies all over Jugdral, from Granvalle to even the forces of Friege should they face him.
She glanced down, glanced at her hands. Then, back up at him. Her gaze was entreating.
"In truth, I had hoped to run into you again. I've run into others. Defectors of Friege. Though not your sister yet. Though I have heard she is well."
"I see...I am glad to hear of that."
"Legends and folklore have sprung up about you, you know."
"Have they? I haven't heard," Reinhardt said.
"You've become something of a folk hero. People are painting your visage, or at least your cloak, upon forts in charcoal. When I heard the reports, I knew it was about you."
How funny, for him to become a legend in the end. All that time he was called the Second coming of Thrud. He was the paragon of knighthood, and look where that had gotten him. Cast aside. He was far more myth now than he ever had been under her hand.
"I've heard. They say a ghost has come to gain vengeance upon Julius. One who was killed by him. Some say Julius killed his wife as well. They call him the ghost of crows and ashes. For wherever he goes, carrion follow to pick clean the bones. He is an avenging fire, one that leaves a trail of death wherever he goes."
"So it is," he said softly.
Once, the second coming of Thrud. Now, a harbinger of death. Legends followed him wherever he went, whether he wanted them to or not. A man like Reinhardt was never fully cloaked in shadows. He couldn't kill entire armies without something getting out.
And without the peasants crowning him with glory he never asked for.
"Though, that is not merely the reason I wished to speak to you. Tell me, Reinhardt. Was it true? What Julius accused you of? And what you said there in that ballroom?"
He remained quiet. Finally, he spoke.
"It hardly matters. Any answer I would give would be meaningless in the end. A waste of breath at any rate."
"It would matter to me," she said softly.
He sighed then. Long, lingering. He had no time, and yet...
"It doesn't matter, because I died then, on the battlefield. Reinhardt of Friege is no longer; and has been burned away. Now, only Reinhardt of Velthomer remains. And he knows only hate."
"You're right. Reinhardt of Friege would never say such forthright things to you. But, what is the past matters no longer, for it is gone and buried. Nothing but ashes remain. What was true for Reinhardt of Friege is not always true for Reinhardt of Velthomer. For I have been forged in fire and born again. And I won't rest until this entire kingdom is ashes."
His dark eyes were filled with a cold rage he'd never let out. The bitterness he bit down as he tried to guard her, as he tried so hard to protect her when the danger was from what she loved most, and desired most.
"The truth is, I hate Julius more than you will ever love him. And though he will kill me one day, I'll be sure to see the very throne burn beneath him as he kills me. Until the day when he puts me in an early grave, I'll enjoy watching his kingdom burn while he is powerless to stop. Every burned fort, every one of his armies I kill is my sole comfort in this life."
Just as Reinhardt was powerless. Maybe it was the last blow, lashing out as he struggled in death, but to know he got to get that blow to Julius warmed his heart where there once had been emptiness.
Julius took everything from him, and so, Reinhardt would pay it back tenfold. Sear away the throne and cape as Julius wore it, immolate his armies and forts until it resembled the destroyed Reinhardt of Friege.
He couldn't expect Julius would ever feel regret or redemption or shame. But, he would know what it was like to have everything torn from him, just as Reinhardt had.
He'd filled the love in his heart for his liege up with a new fire of vengeance. One day, it would consume him. And he would be ashes, but for now, at least he had something.
"Where I once lived for the loyalty of my land, and liege, now Lord Arvis has taught me a new way to live. One day, the fire in my veins will burn me through. But, half the kingdom or more will be in ashes by then."
"Does that suffice, my lady?"
"It is a half-answer at best, answering nothing in the end," she said.
"In the end, half-truths and lies are all there is," he said.
"I see," she said softly. And even that disappointment was enough to undo him. To second-guess his bitterness, that he had ever spoken to her like this. As if the ghost of his past self had reached through and gripped his collar, to tear the words out of him.
He glanced away as he said the next words.
"Yes, Reinhardt of Friege loved you. To his core. His very being. Every breath and every beat of his heart was for you Yes, I once held a loyalty to you that would've spanned to my very last breath. And it was useless to you in the end. You cast me aside like refuse. So, the thoughts of Reinhardt of Friege are just as meaningless as I was to you. Now, we are allies to save the children for this moment. But, with you at Julius's side you must know that I will not settle until death claims me, or I burn Julius's kingdom to the ground. Whatever comes first."
"And, perhaps it makes cordiality difficult. For I seek to destroy that whom you serve. Even halfheartedly," he said.
"I see," she said softly.
"Still...I wouldn't wish to fight you. For surely, in the end, you would win. You would kill me once again, as you killed me once before."
"Reinhardt.... I wanted to protect you. You were never meaningless or refuse to me. It was very difficult to do so, but it was the only way Julius would relent and spare your life."
"But, in the end, I was worth less than Julius's favor. And so, I had to go."
He turned back to her.
"And, as long as there is Julius between us, I fear this distance will last. For, now that my hatred of him has been unsheathed, I cannot go back to the man I was. Quietly seething, and sinking to an early death. Noticing how he treated you, and yet you returned to him. You always returned to him... If I am to face death, I face it by my terms, and dragging thousands down with me."
And he knew, he knew for all his words...his heart ached to return to what was. To give his life and heart to her over and over again. To go on bended knee and serve her, love her with all his being. it had been enthralling, it had been his life. To be hers, even as he was never hers. To serve her so blindly, with so much devotion.
But, those were simply the forgotten dreams of the past. Hopeless, and foolish. Nothing but to be thrown aside, with the weakness of what once was.
"I should not wish you to face death at all," she said.
"It is the times we live in, I am afraid," Reinhardt said.
Though those words were like balm to a burn.
"My lady," he said, though she wasn't any longer. "I hope you do not join those that have failed Julius. For you know what he does to those that have failed him."
She was silent a moment before responding.
And everything his heart ached to say: I would've killed for you. I would've been your sword unto death. I lived for you, I would've gone to my death gladly, with a smile, all for you. But you sent me away. My oaths meant nothing to you in the end.
"He loves me, and I love him," she said. Though her voice was tired, even flat. "And I would not be like...those that he sends to the WelkenRosen."
"There is a saying: 'love conquers all'--though I think it has its limits. For, I believe no amount of love could ever reach his cold heart. A man who would send children to the grave cannot be fixed, no matter how hard you try."
"...I've fought him. Manfroy. At every time. But, the darkness it corrupts, it corrodes. And, I'm so tired of fighting. I thought there must be a light hidden away in the darkness. I could scarce believe the kind Julius I knew would act like this. But...who else could it be? The same face, the same eyes look upon me."
"Even more so, when the one you are trying to save always returns to Manfroy, yes?"
She bowed her head. He looked away.
"Because, my lady, you do not have the tenor of a woman in love. You have the countenance of someone who is about to be sent to the gallows every time you speak of him."
Her lips parted, but she did not speak.
"Then--I have no right to question whether your love for another is valid. For I am Reinhardt of Velthomer now. And I answer to Lord Arvis. Not you."
It was no use, to try and save someone who refused to be saved. Each time he faced her, each time she came before him, it was reopening the wound. Again and again, the way she said goodbye. The way she chose him.
And, by Lord Arvis's teaching, he should hate her. But, he didn't. Even forged in the fire of a thousand years, he couldn't burn this love away.
And it didn't matter, because in the end, she'd always choose the man Reinhardt hated most.
Still, even through it all, he didn't want her to die. Even if he couldn't be the one to protect her. He hoped like hell that her promise that Julius would protect her now was enough. That what she clung to wouldn't kill her in the end.
Because Reinhardt couldn't go to his grave knowing that he failed her like this. Even if he wasn't hers anymore, even if she wasn't his anymore.
Even if she was never his.
And he knew her enough, having been by her side since they were both young, when she was.
He'd been not merely any guard, but her confidant. Her most trusted advisor. And he'd watched her wilt softly, giving more and more of herself to Julius, to Hilda's schemes. Until she was a specter of herself.
He turned his back upon her, not for the first time. The first was searing. Cauterizing himself on bended knee as the fire of Velthomer was bestowed upon him.
"In the end, you are the one who knows me best, Reinhardt," she said softly.
And what did it mean? Because even as these words were said, she knew whose side she would return to. And it always came down to this. The doors always swung closed. Even down this path of thorns, she went. She chased a ghost.
"But, even then, I must continue my battle, and you must continue yours," she said.
So be it. He should be used to it, by now. The pain of her rejection. Each one felt a knife in his back. Coated with poison. Enough to leave him in an unspeakable sort of pain. Held deep within him.
"I must return to my liege's side. It would be better that our paths do not cross again. As long as you are loyal to Julius, we are on opposite sides. Even if you do help to save the children. I should not wish to ever be on the opposite sides of the battlefield."
"...Because, Lady Ishtar, I wish you to live through this bloody time, awful as it is."
"And I, you," she said.
A goodbye, as good as any. Even as it was the salt in the wound for both of them. That she was his liege no longer.
*
At first sight of that hair, the deep red of fire, he though Arvis had come. But, no. It was too short. And he was more willowy, and dressed in white, with a black cloak.
"Saias?"
"It's been a while, Reinhardt."
"I am glad we are on the same side, Saias. I certainly wouldn't wish to fight you."
"And I wouldn't wish to fight you," Saias said. A faint smile formed across his lips.
"I suppose we are. Lord Arvis, he...has decided to remember I exist for his own purposes. Now I am here. The destruction of the Loptyrian army is a cause close to my heart.They've taken so much from me, after all."
"Indeed," Reinhardt said.
"I doubt I have the power to avenge my mother and kill Manfroy directly...but I can stop some of his plans, a revenge in its own right," Saias said.
"Get the children to safety. Let me be the one to dirty my hands," Reinhardt said.
Saias nodded, but said no more. Saias held aloft the lantern, filled with flames he had called forth himself. He led the children into the night.
Reinhardt turned on the incoming reinforcements. The children were traumatized enough.
Thumb to forefinger. A snap. A spark. His face would be the last thing they remembered before the fire came for them.
They stared to the sky, their incoming death. Flames hot enough that not even a scream could be heard. The grass, all seared and blackened to nothing. Even the bones had immolated to ash.
Reinhardt trailed Saias, but no more guards came.
Later on, Saias told him that he'd lied to the children. Told them it was shooting stars. They made wishes as they went back, unaware of the carnage just beyond them.
*
Scrawled upon the wall, Thus unto ashes. Even tyrants burn.
Written in charcoal. Rain would wash it away, though the guards would destroy it by the morn.
It became a crime punishable by death, these words. Yet, something had ignited. All over they appeared. Even under the threat of death. A rallying cry, this spark had lit something among the peasants. Perhaps they would die, but they would face their tyrants as the magic rained down upon them, or the weapons found their flesh.
Some said that it was Sigurd the traitor risen from the ashes which had immolated him. A ghost filled with vengeance to enact revenge upon the country.
Some said it was a Crusader reborn, back to bring justice and revenge to the land again.
Wherever he went, Reinhardt still inspired a mythos. Across a church, a figure of flames in charcoal. Furtive glances, the scratch of a burned stick.
And beneath this mural, the words. Thus unto ashes. Even tyrants burn.
*
Reinhardt returned to the castle Arvis had taken hold of. He bowed as Arvis looked back from the hearth. Arvis spent much time looking into the flames, as if they might divine a way forward for him.
"You've been causing quite a stir. You were a good choice," Arvis said.
"I was born to serve," Reinhardt said.
And never mind that he once said those words to another. Once who he served with all his heart, all his loyalty, all his life.
Arvis smiled. "All you needed was some forging. This was inside you all the while. You let yourself get entangled."
"What are your orders, milord?"
"First, I've added some more titles to your name. No need to thank me. Hearing about how angry it made Julius was payment enough."
"Many thanks, my liege," Reinhardt said.
Arvis continued speaking as if Reinhardt had said nothing.
"Secondly, Isaach is in the midst of a rebellion. One which Granvalle is having difficulty quelling, with all those talented swordsmen about. It'll make their army easy picking. Make them distracted and demoralized, so they'll be ripe for an attack to their flank. Scatter them, destroy them," Arvis said.
"Yes, milord," Reinhardt said.
"If you can keep their troops occupied, it will make Granvalle more weak. Divert as many as you can from Bellhalla. I trust you will have no trouble killing entire armies?"
"None, milord," Reinhardt said.
Neither he, nor Arvis would get the pleasure of dealing the final blow. Fate had ensured that. But, he could be the one to lead to Julius's destruction. The first spark to start the inferno. His one solace through it all.
"And Reinhardt? Remember this well. History will not remember you. You will be no hero. What you do, you do in the shadows. But, perhaps with your help, this world can be saved from the clutches of the Loptyrian empire."
Funny enough, for once, Lord Arvis was wrong. History would remember him, but as a legend, a myth. Not as himself, but a folk hero shrouded in mystery twice over.
Once as Reinhardt of Friege, the second coming of Thrud. And then as the hero scrawled in charcoal on forts as a protest by the powerless. The last cry against tyranny.
Still, fame was meaningless now. What did it matter if he became a knight of such renown, if he lost everything he held dear? He'd sworn to be hers until his last breath, and to her, everything he'd ever done was meaningless in the end.
It wouldn't matter what fame, what renown or glory he earned.Not anymore.
But, revenge--That could soothe the unending pain in him. The agony that had begun the moment she said goodbye to him. Revenge until death claimed him. That was a life he could live.
"All the better. I should like history to forget me," Reinhardt said.
"Truly?" Arvis chuckled.
"Reinhardt of Friege has died, and reborn as Reinhardt of Velthomer. That is all. Let them remember that," Reinhardt said.
"And from there, I shall be a footnote in someone else's saga."
"You're surprisingly humble," Arvis said.
Sometimes the ghost of him remembered.
Not the gaze of others, but the gaze of her. How his heart felt like it was full of magic when she bestowed the Blessed Sword upon him, and told him how he was the finest knight in the land--no, in the entire era. How he treasured it, and kept it close. Like a promise.
What he wanted...he couldn't have. He had wanted to be remembered as her one and only love, and consort. To be remembered as a powerful, good and kind man who remained close to his sister Olwen for all their lives. To be remembered as just and brave, a man of good standing. A pillar of Friege, and Princess Ishtar's steadfast support, and her consort.
All foolish wishes, never to be granted. All gone now. Reinhardt Schutaeze might as well be considered dead, along with every dream. Who he was now was an another being entirely. Like a wraith who survived only on hatred, Arvis had brought him back from the edge of death.
But, he brought him back to kill. To destroy. He was no longer Princess Ishtar's sword, but Lord Arvis's. And unlike once, where he had been a guardian kept in waiting. This sword was meant not to protect, but to cut down all of Granvalle.
And any of Jugdral which got in his way.
"...Let them forget about this chapter, at least. If anyone remembers these actions, then I died too soon," Reinhardt said.
"Understandable," Arvis said.
Arvis looked around at the library.
"It's become more empty here. Anton was executed by the Welkenrosen. Accused of treason. I'm afraid that my loyal vassal did not meet a swift end. Any who linger too long in serving me shall join his fate. Julius is growing more chaotic by the day."
"I am sorry for your loss. I only know him for a mere moment, but he seemed a loyal retainer."
"He was. I owe much to his support. He refused to retire even when he grew old and when Julius's descent began. And now, he's merely another casualty from Julius."
"Deirdre wasn't enough. Eventually, he'll come for you. That monster which wears my son like a coat won't be satisfied until he's razed the entirety of Jugdral."
"I know," Reinhardt said.
"The only thing we can do is burn it first," Arvis said.
And why not? It'd worked once before.
"I've something for you."
Arvis handed over the tome. Dusty as it was, Reinhardt could read the gilt words upon it.
"Meteor? I've only heard of this. It's rare enough that I've never come face to face with it...Though some of Friege's royalty could wield some incredibly complex tomes."
Arvis smirked.
"It's no fairy tale. I'm sure you'll make some good use of it."
And with that, he was dismissed. Arvis wasn't much for social niceties, unless it was to cause insult to those he hated, or manage some social climbing. And in this dark era, ruled by the Scion of Darkness, Arvis wasn't doing much social climbing.
Reinhardt left the castle, and his lord behind. Into the night, towards Isaach.
For one thing he was sure: blood awaited him wherever he would go.
Series: FE4/5 Jugdral
Character/pairing: Reinhardt/Ishtar, Arvis
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When Ishtar reveals that Julius hates Arvis, and that she has dismissed Reinhardt from her service, Arvis decides to make one last stand and convince Reinhardt to join his side.
Abandoned by Friege, and his leige, Reinhardt becomes a knight of Velthomer, and Arvis's very own secret weapon to wage war upon Granvalle.
Two extremely powerful men, wronged by Julius, with nothing left to live for but revenge. How the weave of fate changes in their hands. And how the Loptyrian empire will burn.
Word count: 7858
Author's note:
4. Alight.
Lord gimme that fire
Lord gimme that fire
Lord gimme that fire
Burn, burn, burn
Oh, a thousand faces staring at me
Thousand times
I've fallen
Thousand voices dead at my feet
Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone
Barns Country, Fire
Two words said, in lieu of a greeting. The coldness of his voice left a chill inside her where once there'd been the warmth of love.
"Explain yourself."
She curtseyed, eyes down.
"I'm sorry, my lord Julius."
He lifted her chin. His grip was tight enough to cause a shot of pain through her. Hard enough to bruise. He forced her to look him in the eyes and forced the eye contact. His red eyes were unearthly, like burning red coals as he studied her. Like he was looking at her very soul.
It came to mind that this was how many who served Julius met their end.
And she did not recognize him in that moment. The man she loved, who Reinhardt claimed was a monster. Like a fairy tale, she'd hoped to free him from the spell Manfroy had surely put him under.
One day, the boy who had always been her friend, and whom she had loved, came back wrong. And no amount of time or trying had ever been able to change that.
It'd happened the same day his mother, Deirdre had died. Those around him had blamed grief, and in her youth, she had thought the same. She had stayed closer when maids ended up with bruises and guards went missing.
And that was before the children began to go missing, one by one. Each year claimed more.
She always told herself--reminded herself, tried to assure herself--that she would never be on the receiving end of that coldness and violence. Because he loved her. And she loved him. That one day this nightmare would end and she would wake and the Julius she knew would return.
And every time she thought, perhaps, something was wrong--her mother would come to her. Tell her again of course you love him, dear. You're thinking irrationally. You don't know what you're saying.
And she would let the protest die in her mouth. Just as it had before, when she'd joined Ishtore against the hunts.
But, then her brother died. And she didn't wake up, no matter how hard she tried. Every day this war continued on, with more brutality, and less hope that her Julius--the one who had been kind, and gentle--would ever return.
These days, it took more and more reassurance to achieve that. And when she thought--dreamed--of a life without Julius, she only came face to face with the stark reality of a hanging noose, and the WelkenRosen as the only fate she could have.
She'd seen him execute traitors right in front of her. She'd heard their cries, their pleas in the end. All ignored as Julius's hand would raise, his eyes like a flash of fire.
His touch upon her felt as much a death sentence now, as it was.
And she wondered, had they been examples for her as well? She'd always thought that she was the exception. But now, a traitor as she was, she would join the rest of the dead if he ever found out.
"Do not hide behind courtesy with me. I found you in another man's arms. Reinhardt's arms, even more of a slap in the face. In front of everyone, no less. I told you I didn't want to have him get between us. Had you not begged, I would've plucked out the eyes that dared to look at you."
His eyes were the void, a hell of hatred. How Reinhardt had managed to escape his fury for so long, even she could not say. For her attempts to mollify Julius's rages worked far less.
"I should've killed him then. I should've ignored your pleas," Julius said, before she could respond.
"I....I...was gathering information, Lord Julius. Y-You know you have my complete loyalty and love. He is no longer a member of House Friege and...."
Her voice wavered, and she stopped and said no more.
"I...must lookout for the good standing of my House. I wanted to hear what he had to say, to do such a thing as turn aside from the House that gave him everything."
As empty as it had become. Who hadn't died had defected.
"Hmm. Interesting. And what did you glean from your former vassal?"
"N-Nothing much, I am afraid. Reinhardt is rather stoic. And there was not much we could say over the music. But, I tried. For you, my lord Julius. You know you have all my love and loyalty."
He released her. Her skin might bruise from how tightly he had held her.
This wasn't the first time she'd had to hide a bruise with a little jewelry he'd given her after. When she'd told her mother, Hilda had said that it was just proof he loved her. And that she should surely await his marriage proposal. Otherwise he wouldn't be so jealous to threaten to kill for her, or hold her so tight.
And look there, proof of his love right on her skin.
But, when she looked Julius in the eyes, she didn't recognize the man she had loved so long ago.
"Your attempt at getting me information, failed as it was, is not appreciated. I'll forgive your attempt this time, but don't let me ever see you in another man's arms again."
"Ah...sorry, my lord."
Julius's lips curled into a smirk.
"Reinhardt hasn't much longer to live, anyways. Let him and father scheme. Let them kick and struggle. It matters not. They'll be dead before long. This time, your pleas will be meaningless. I suppose it will make things more fun. I might get bored otherwise."
"Now, shall we get dinner, my dear? You look lovely in that dress. You will be quite beautiful on my arm."
His voice was almost genial now. Such a difference from before.
She nodded, and said no more. She'd begun to believe that Julius liked her better when she was silent.
*
Torches showed swatches of poverty, thatched and fragile houses and the peasants that lived in them. These were the ones helpless. Few of the nobles who claimed to support Julius's vision would send their children to Loptous. Only the poorest, the least protected could go.
The sounds of screams and creaky wheels filled the night. Please, not my child! Take me to the flames of Loptous instead! Kill me instead! Anything but my daughter!
And the sobbing, the shrieks, the crying. Both of the parents, and the children. The light from the torches reflected off the breastplates of the soldiers, and the weapons they clutched tight.
Spears, sheathed swords, and bows at the ready. Far too much for the pitchforks and rusty swords that these villagers could scrap together.
The hoarse cries turned to sobs so harsh that the mother could barely breathe. Her face in the dirt, as she reached out helplessly. A caravan of cages, filled with a harvest of innocents. So many stolen that they could barely move.
The door of the cage shut closed. Little hands clung to the tines of the cages, covered in dirt. Tear stains ran rivers through their dirty faces. The splayed fingers of a desperate mother reached out.
"I should kill you, but I wouldn't want to waste the time wiping your blood off my sword," said one of the soldiers.
His boot came down upon her hand, as she reached out. Her cry was muffled, her face forced into the mud by another.
A seared cape, and a figure in the night, lighted only by the first flash of light. Enough to blind, not merely for soldiers, but for innocents, too. They'd already seen far too much. And these cages were far too flammable.
He came behind them, and what soldiers glanced back, didn't give him a second's thought. For he wore the robes of Velthomer. They worked hand in hand with cloaked cultists.
To this leader, Reinhardt was just another nameless general or cultist, here to collect the horrible spoils of this war.
The leader of the soldiers turned to him. He was an older mercenary, scarred from battle. Granvalle had taken to hiring Thracian mercenaries to fill the ranks that Reinhardt kept destroying.
"There you are, General--" were the last words out of his mouth.
Reinhardt's sword found its mark, right through the throat of this captain. Blood dripped down his mouth, as Reinhardt pulled back his weapon, for a second attack. Before a shield could even be fully lifted, Reinhardt buried his sword deep in the man's chest.
More red joined the flame patterns on Reinhardt's cape. And more would join it before the night was over.
The man's armor was nothing to the Blessed Sword. His last memory of what he once had been. The metal parted, as the blade found its mark. Reinhardt found it quite easy to coat his blades with magic. The Blessed Sword was so well made that it could withstand the constant heating of the molten heat of flame magic upon it.
Before a warning of an ambush could be spoken aloud, before swords and shields were even unsheathed, flames rained down upon them. The flames came so easily to him. Even if he was born of Friege, with the magic of lightning that led him down this path. Of general, the youngest in generations. Of the protector of the precious princess of the land. To guard her with his life, to be eternally loyal to her.
Even if that path had been so clearly marked off for him--and so easily destroyed--The fire of vengeance came to him so easily. The flames that had rocked Jugdral once had come again in another wronged man.
Thracian steel was no match for Velthomer fire. How the bodies burned, a bonfire high before their would-be prisoners.
Beneath the cloak, the hints of a smile at the charred bodies.
These captured little ones ones would not go to Julius. Not this time.
The female villager dared to lift up her face from the mud, and stared up at him with a tear-streaked face. She crawled to try and put herself between the caged children from this new threat.
"A-Are you our savior, or are you going to kill us too? Please, sir...I beg of you. have mercy upon us," her voice was hoarse from screaming. Her voice trembled. She trembled.
He lifted one gloved finger to his mouth.
"I'm just a ghost, come to bring vengeance. Pay me no mind, you're not my target."
"I could see it, the death upon you. You've been dead a while, Sir Ghost."
From the moment she had sent him away, and from the moment Arvis pulled him from the ashes and crowned him with vengeance and a book of flames. Ever since then, he'd ceased to be, but of steel and fire, a weapon to be sunk deep into this kingdom, to tear until nothing of it was left.
"Yes, I left my life behind some time ago. I am nothing more than a tool now."
Once he'd been Princess Ishtar's sword and shield. He'd protected her with every breath of his being. Now, he was Arvis's dagger, Tipped in poison and ashes and to be sunk into the back of his son, and unleashed upon the Jugdral which Arvis had built up.
For what a ruler builds he can destroy, with whatever weapons he held. And what was Reinhardt, but a weapon to be used as his liege wished?
He touched the lock to sear it apart. The children were wary, but he stepped aside. Children stumbled out, tear stained and full of sobs. A little girl ran to the arms of the woman on the ground. He left before they could say another word. He didn't need thanks, or to be lifted up as a hero. That was of an earlier man, left in the river Thracia along with the dead Gelben Ritter.
Reinhardt was no longer the Second coming of Thrud, a hero of Friege. He was little more than an agent of death at this point. He would kill countless, until one day he was killed. An inglorious shallow grave awaited him, and he knew it.
He expected no thanks, no glory. He left to the night, to wipe the blood from his sword. His gloves, once pristine white, now were always stained red, from blood, and brown from the dirt and mire. He'd switched to dark black. Easier to hide the charred black and ashes from the fire magic. Easier to hide the bloodstains.
*
She grew glad for the parting, the meetings in dark caverns with chanting which did not include her. When the Loptyrian empire was slowly waking up, with prayers for their god to return. When she did not have to be by Julius's side.
She could slip out, by nightfall. A cloak over her dress. She'd memorized the words of the warp spell, until she never even needed to bring a scroll or tome along to travel.
The feeling? Like being ripped apart and sewn back together in cold. But, she grew used to it. Being of House Friege was to deny herself and become a warrior fit to rule.
She knew the caravan was to arrive, the plans, the dates. She'd managed to overhear many of them, simply by being Julius's lover. The more she declared her love and loyalty, the more she betrayed him.
A lantern lit the night. Soon, she was to meet her contact. She wouldn't know if it'd be a humble priest this time, or a retainer of Arvis, or Reinhardt himself. She never knew which would answer the summons. A stranger, or someone who had been her closest, and now was little more than a stranger.
She kept her hair back in a bun, and didn't show her face. Other than Reinhardt, the rest accepted her story that she was merely a mercenary. No one of note.
Even more, there was always the chance that who would meet her would be a hooded figure to drag her to the depths. One of the WelkenRosen, or the capital guard.
(Though, if she wasn't ambushed, and overwhelmed, Mjölnir could cut through entire armies, as long as she had warning.)
But, it was a familiar figure who met her. She was tall, and strong. Ishtar recognized the general when the hood came back. Faint pale hair, a sharp face and blue eyes. Her eyes were a bit more drawn, a bit more filled with sadness from the last time Princess Ishtar had seen her.
"General Amalda? You too, are one of the Liberation Army?"
"Princes Ishtar...." Her voice was guarded. A previous storm had plastered her pale bob to her face.
Princess Ishtar dared to lower her hood as well. In politeness, in solidarity.
General Amalda looked her over.
"Are you here with Reinhardt? Or are you with Julius?"
"You've seen him, then?" Ishtar said. Hope still filled her voice.
"Reinhardt? Yes. We have worked together recently. Though, he is of House Velthomer now. He serves Lord Arvis. I only heard the news recently. It still confuses me, to be honest."
Ishtar was silent.
"I...am here to help Lord Arvis," Ishtar said. "And I am alone."
But that was only part of it.
She was here to help the children. She was here to right things. She was here to help Julius. Somehow, these paths had to converge into one. Even when she went back. Even when she paid fealty, with lying lips.
"I didn't realize you were one of the one--the contact I would meet today. There's many of us. You should know. You and Lord Ishtore started the movement itself with your work."
She bit her lip and remained silent. When Ishtore had fallen, so had the movement. She had not been strong enough to keep it herself. She had acquiesced and joined in on what she hated.
All for love...Or was it cowardice? Was love a routine she couldn't escape? Were the words 'I love you' merely the mind-numbing habit eternally repeated?
Until recently, when she'd turned her back on her lover to try and save the children.
"You have joined the liberation army, then?"
"To join those who slaughtered my brother and father? Who took Tine away from me? I couldn't. Even if I sympathize with their cause, I couldn't ally myself with those murderers. But... I sympathize with them. I, too, wish the hunts to end. They are a brutal practice."
"I thought it odd, to hear you joined the hunts. I thought I was completely mistaken. For you and Ishtore were so against it once. You swore that would change Julius. But, it was you who were changed in the end. It was a sad day when we heard that the Royal House of Friege were seen among the caravans, when once they had spoken out against them."
"I was not changed. I still feel the same. I..."
She was--what? There was no excuse, barely an explanation how she had slipped down this ravine.
It started with a little moment. She tried to convince Julius, and he told her she was wrong.
A fight, and how Julius would convince her that she was mistaken. And how could she think that of the one she loved? How could she say such things about the one she loved?
And her mother tried to convince her, that she was mistaken. Ishtore would've understood once he realized. It was all a big misunderstanding. A case of the Liberation Army spreading lies.
And he told her, come with me. I'll show you that you're mistaken.
And he told her come with me to Miletos, we'll call a ball.
And mother said you know you love him. He'll marry you soon.
And little by little, she thought perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps I am mistaken. I will try, just this once, to see if Julius truly is simply helping them as he claims.
And she thought, Just this once. I will see for myself who is lying.
Little by little, her defenses were worn down. Like water cracking a stone in the cold.
This was how her path of darkness started. The little belief inside her that maybe she should let Julius explain himself. Even as a part of her knew--that Manfroy was her enemy. One that she had been fighting all along.
No matter the excuses, no matter the convoluted explanation, the starkness of her cowardice stared her in the face. Now, she was a woman of both sides. Loyalty spread from House to House. She would be a shame of her House if she was ever revealed.
"I'm glad to see you've returned to helping the children, Princess. I knew you weren't cruel. I knew there must be some mistake."
"Is that what they said of me?" Princess Ishtar said.
It's what I deserve in the end.
"It is--best not to focus on such things. The time is short."
Princess Ishtar let out a breath. "Of course. Take them to safety."
"And where will you go?"
"Back to Granvalle," she said flatly. "I am a daughter of House Friege. Where else would I be, but there? But, even as I am by Julius's side, I am fulfilling Lord Arvis's command. For everyone's sake. I hope you understand there is some...discretion."
"I understand. I never saw you here. Besides, I am no longer of the court. Not until these blood-stained hands are cleansed."
And, the unsaid.
Who are you loyal to, Princess Ishtar? Do you even know anymore? You lay down with your lover with a knife in your hands, ready to stab him in the back and steal his prey. You say you love him, and even you don't know what the words mean anymore. They are an empty repetition of fealty for a lord you no longer serve.
Who are you loyal to, Princess Ishtar?
*
Exhaustion was like a haze. He'd have to find shelter and rest. He hoped his sleep would be dreamless. He'd dreamt of her over and over.
The snippets of memories, of her smile. And the nightmares of her upon the battlefield, slain without him to protect him.
Sometimes they slipped into each other, like water down a waterfall. The smiling princess shifted to scenes of her imminent, gruesome death.
And what could he say to this revanant which haunted his dreams? Except that, it was her choice in the end.
In the dark, her voice, like a dream. For a moment, he thought it another dream.
She'd found him again. Appeared from the dark of the wood.
A sharp intake of breath, and her soft voice. Like a caress.
"Reinhardt... Our paths cross again."
Her hair was tied back in a messy bun at her nape. A cloak covered her dress, and she'd left behind her Friegean dress for a more modest, darker traveling dress. Her bangles and gold were left behind.
Still, even this attempt to hide herself as a traveler couldn't hide her beauty. Nothing could. He would love her and find her beautiful if cloaked in rags, if cloaked in mourning garb, if wearing a wedding dress to marry another.
But, the exhaustion left him drawn. And the embers of hate within him which Lord Arvis had alighted would not be merely doused at the sight of her.
He remembered Lord Arvis's words.
Let it fuel your hate. Feel it burn inside you. Even more as she is by his side...and in his arms. Never forget what Julius has stripped away from your grasp. And pay it back to him tenfold as you burn down his kingdom.
He couldn't let his love for her conquer him. It'd almost killed him once. His hand tensed, clenched. Once, he'd been known as Thunder's fist. Her protector. Her shield.
No more.
"Does he know you're here?"
"Of course not."
"I'm surprised you could leave this long without his asking of you. He would not be so forgiving if he realized what you have done. Or has he loosened the tether now that I am sent away?" Reinhardt said.
He continued. "You promised he would protect you."
"Any bandits that would try and attack me would be left in Mjölnir's wake."
"And who will protect you from there? I see a bruise there, even in this light. It isn't the first time I've seen you cover a bruise with jewelry bestowed upon you."
A sharp breath.
"I..."
"There is little you can hide from a guard as close as me, my--Lady Ishtar."
Old habits died hard.
"You didn't tell them, then," Reinhardt said.
"....You thought I would betray you to Julius?" Her voice was filled with pain.
"You already chose him once. Choosing him again would be expected at this point," Reinhardt said.
She remained silent at that.
"Julius and Manfroy, they're....Doing something important to the Loptyrian empire." Her voice was so flat. She knew. She knew.
"On days like this, I can withdraw to my chambers early. Mother joins them now. Few would look for me, as few are left alive in House Friege even to serve...."
"Besides,I should think I would be able to spend a night apart from him without fire from the heavens raining down upon me."
"Heavens, my lady? More like fire from hell, if it is from Julius."
"He isn't dead yet," she said.
"Godspeed," Reinhardt said.
"He was kind once, Reinhardt."
"That offers no comfort to his victims, my lady," Reinhardt said. "And certainly none to me."
She glanced aside. "You've changed, Reinhardt. You're much harsher. You never would've spoken like this before."
And the unsaid: Never to me. You never would've raised this concern to me. You never would've said anything like this.
And he would've. He would've taken these words, these complaints to his grave. He would've died with a smile on his face, all for her. He would've taken fighting for her, even unto the death, even for the wrong cause, as an honor. Worn it as his coat of arms, wrapped himself in it. Let himself be buried in it.
Never mind that once he'd served her. And now, they were near equals in title and power. For Lord Arvis had heaped with what little power he had, title of lordship upon lordship upon him. If Julius were to so unfortunately die suddenly, it might be Reinhardt at the seat of the throne with how many titles Lord Arvis had given him. Things Reinhardt found after the burning. Said in passing, with little fanfare.
A simple You've done well. I've added a few titles to your name.
Of course, they were mere paper. Useless in the end. Done merely to annoy Julius than any real rebellion. Declarations of war signed in common conversation.
"Lord Arvis forged something within me. He made me realize the depth of the hate inside me, and turned it into a weapon. And the consequences, well. You can see them well. I no longer am on bended knee to you. In truth, now we are likely equals or close to it."
"Has Lord Arvis bestowed that much power to you?"
"And more. He has given me the very life back to me, in order for me to kill. And to repay that debt, many will die as he wills it."
Burned out towers and forts all across the countryside. The armies all over Jugdral, from Granvalle to even the forces of Friege should they face him.
She glanced down, glanced at her hands. Then, back up at him. Her gaze was entreating.
"In truth, I had hoped to run into you again. I've run into others. Defectors of Friege. Though not your sister yet. Though I have heard she is well."
"I see...I am glad to hear of that."
"Legends and folklore have sprung up about you, you know."
"Have they? I haven't heard," Reinhardt said.
"You've become something of a folk hero. People are painting your visage, or at least your cloak, upon forts in charcoal. When I heard the reports, I knew it was about you."
How funny, for him to become a legend in the end. All that time he was called the Second coming of Thrud. He was the paragon of knighthood, and look where that had gotten him. Cast aside. He was far more myth now than he ever had been under her hand.
"I've heard. They say a ghost has come to gain vengeance upon Julius. One who was killed by him. Some say Julius killed his wife as well. They call him the ghost of crows and ashes. For wherever he goes, carrion follow to pick clean the bones. He is an avenging fire, one that leaves a trail of death wherever he goes."
"So it is," he said softly.
Once, the second coming of Thrud. Now, a harbinger of death. Legends followed him wherever he went, whether he wanted them to or not. A man like Reinhardt was never fully cloaked in shadows. He couldn't kill entire armies without something getting out.
And without the peasants crowning him with glory he never asked for.
"Though, that is not merely the reason I wished to speak to you. Tell me, Reinhardt. Was it true? What Julius accused you of? And what you said there in that ballroom?"
He remained quiet. Finally, he spoke.
"It hardly matters. Any answer I would give would be meaningless in the end. A waste of breath at any rate."
"It would matter to me," she said softly.
He sighed then. Long, lingering. He had no time, and yet...
"It doesn't matter, because I died then, on the battlefield. Reinhardt of Friege is no longer; and has been burned away. Now, only Reinhardt of Velthomer remains. And he knows only hate."
"You're right. Reinhardt of Friege would never say such forthright things to you. But, what is the past matters no longer, for it is gone and buried. Nothing but ashes remain. What was true for Reinhardt of Friege is not always true for Reinhardt of Velthomer. For I have been forged in fire and born again. And I won't rest until this entire kingdom is ashes."
His dark eyes were filled with a cold rage he'd never let out. The bitterness he bit down as he tried to guard her, as he tried so hard to protect her when the danger was from what she loved most, and desired most.
"The truth is, I hate Julius more than you will ever love him. And though he will kill me one day, I'll be sure to see the very throne burn beneath him as he kills me. Until the day when he puts me in an early grave, I'll enjoy watching his kingdom burn while he is powerless to stop. Every burned fort, every one of his armies I kill is my sole comfort in this life."
Just as Reinhardt was powerless. Maybe it was the last blow, lashing out as he struggled in death, but to know he got to get that blow to Julius warmed his heart where there once had been emptiness.
Julius took everything from him, and so, Reinhardt would pay it back tenfold. Sear away the throne and cape as Julius wore it, immolate his armies and forts until it resembled the destroyed Reinhardt of Friege.
He couldn't expect Julius would ever feel regret or redemption or shame. But, he would know what it was like to have everything torn from him, just as Reinhardt had.
He'd filled the love in his heart for his liege up with a new fire of vengeance. One day, it would consume him. And he would be ashes, but for now, at least he had something.
"Where I once lived for the loyalty of my land, and liege, now Lord Arvis has taught me a new way to live. One day, the fire in my veins will burn me through. But, half the kingdom or more will be in ashes by then."
"Does that suffice, my lady?"
"It is a half-answer at best, answering nothing in the end," she said.
"In the end, half-truths and lies are all there is," he said.
"I see," she said softly. And even that disappointment was enough to undo him. To second-guess his bitterness, that he had ever spoken to her like this. As if the ghost of his past self had reached through and gripped his collar, to tear the words out of him.
He glanced away as he said the next words.
"Yes, Reinhardt of Friege loved you. To his core. His very being. Every breath and every beat of his heart was for you Yes, I once held a loyalty to you that would've spanned to my very last breath. And it was useless to you in the end. You cast me aside like refuse. So, the thoughts of Reinhardt of Friege are just as meaningless as I was to you. Now, we are allies to save the children for this moment. But, with you at Julius's side you must know that I will not settle until death claims me, or I burn Julius's kingdom to the ground. Whatever comes first."
"And, perhaps it makes cordiality difficult. For I seek to destroy that whom you serve. Even halfheartedly," he said.
"I see," she said softly.
"Still...I wouldn't wish to fight you. For surely, in the end, you would win. You would kill me once again, as you killed me once before."
"Reinhardt.... I wanted to protect you. You were never meaningless or refuse to me. It was very difficult to do so, but it was the only way Julius would relent and spare your life."
"But, in the end, I was worth less than Julius's favor. And so, I had to go."
He turned back to her.
"And, as long as there is Julius between us, I fear this distance will last. For, now that my hatred of him has been unsheathed, I cannot go back to the man I was. Quietly seething, and sinking to an early death. Noticing how he treated you, and yet you returned to him. You always returned to him... If I am to face death, I face it by my terms, and dragging thousands down with me."
And he knew, he knew for all his words...his heart ached to return to what was. To give his life and heart to her over and over again. To go on bended knee and serve her, love her with all his being. it had been enthralling, it had been his life. To be hers, even as he was never hers. To serve her so blindly, with so much devotion.
But, those were simply the forgotten dreams of the past. Hopeless, and foolish. Nothing but to be thrown aside, with the weakness of what once was.
"I should not wish you to face death at all," she said.
"It is the times we live in, I am afraid," Reinhardt said.
Though those words were like balm to a burn.
"My lady," he said, though she wasn't any longer. "I hope you do not join those that have failed Julius. For you know what he does to those that have failed him."
She was silent a moment before responding.
And everything his heart ached to say: I would've killed for you. I would've been your sword unto death. I lived for you, I would've gone to my death gladly, with a smile, all for you. But you sent me away. My oaths meant nothing to you in the end.
"He loves me, and I love him," she said. Though her voice was tired, even flat. "And I would not be like...those that he sends to the WelkenRosen."
"There is a saying: 'love conquers all'--though I think it has its limits. For, I believe no amount of love could ever reach his cold heart. A man who would send children to the grave cannot be fixed, no matter how hard you try."
"...I've fought him. Manfroy. At every time. But, the darkness it corrupts, it corrodes. And, I'm so tired of fighting. I thought there must be a light hidden away in the darkness. I could scarce believe the kind Julius I knew would act like this. But...who else could it be? The same face, the same eyes look upon me."
"Even more so, when the one you are trying to save always returns to Manfroy, yes?"
She bowed her head. He looked away.
"Because, my lady, you do not have the tenor of a woman in love. You have the countenance of someone who is about to be sent to the gallows every time you speak of him."
Her lips parted, but she did not speak.
"Then--I have no right to question whether your love for another is valid. For I am Reinhardt of Velthomer now. And I answer to Lord Arvis. Not you."
It was no use, to try and save someone who refused to be saved. Each time he faced her, each time she came before him, it was reopening the wound. Again and again, the way she said goodbye. The way she chose him.
And, by Lord Arvis's teaching, he should hate her. But, he didn't. Even forged in the fire of a thousand years, he couldn't burn this love away.
And it didn't matter, because in the end, she'd always choose the man Reinhardt hated most.
Still, even through it all, he didn't want her to die. Even if he couldn't be the one to protect her. He hoped like hell that her promise that Julius would protect her now was enough. That what she clung to wouldn't kill her in the end.
Because Reinhardt couldn't go to his grave knowing that he failed her like this. Even if he wasn't hers anymore, even if she wasn't his anymore.
Even if she was never his.
And he knew her enough, having been by her side since they were both young, when she was.
He'd been not merely any guard, but her confidant. Her most trusted advisor. And he'd watched her wilt softly, giving more and more of herself to Julius, to Hilda's schemes. Until she was a specter of herself.
He turned his back upon her, not for the first time. The first was searing. Cauterizing himself on bended knee as the fire of Velthomer was bestowed upon him.
"In the end, you are the one who knows me best, Reinhardt," she said softly.
And what did it mean? Because even as these words were said, she knew whose side she would return to. And it always came down to this. The doors always swung closed. Even down this path of thorns, she went. She chased a ghost.
"But, even then, I must continue my battle, and you must continue yours," she said.
So be it. He should be used to it, by now. The pain of her rejection. Each one felt a knife in his back. Coated with poison. Enough to leave him in an unspeakable sort of pain. Held deep within him.
"I must return to my liege's side. It would be better that our paths do not cross again. As long as you are loyal to Julius, we are on opposite sides. Even if you do help to save the children. I should not wish to ever be on the opposite sides of the battlefield."
"...Because, Lady Ishtar, I wish you to live through this bloody time, awful as it is."
"And I, you," she said.
A goodbye, as good as any. Even as it was the salt in the wound for both of them. That she was his liege no longer.
*
At first sight of that hair, the deep red of fire, he though Arvis had come. But, no. It was too short. And he was more willowy, and dressed in white, with a black cloak.
"Saias?"
"It's been a while, Reinhardt."
"I am glad we are on the same side, Saias. I certainly wouldn't wish to fight you."
"And I wouldn't wish to fight you," Saias said. A faint smile formed across his lips.
"I suppose we are. Lord Arvis, he...has decided to remember I exist for his own purposes. Now I am here. The destruction of the Loptyrian army is a cause close to my heart.They've taken so much from me, after all."
"Indeed," Reinhardt said.
"I doubt I have the power to avenge my mother and kill Manfroy directly...but I can stop some of his plans, a revenge in its own right," Saias said.
"Get the children to safety. Let me be the one to dirty my hands," Reinhardt said.
Saias nodded, but said no more. Saias held aloft the lantern, filled with flames he had called forth himself. He led the children into the night.
Reinhardt turned on the incoming reinforcements. The children were traumatized enough.
Thumb to forefinger. A snap. A spark. His face would be the last thing they remembered before the fire came for them.
They stared to the sky, their incoming death. Flames hot enough that not even a scream could be heard. The grass, all seared and blackened to nothing. Even the bones had immolated to ash.
Reinhardt trailed Saias, but no more guards came.
Later on, Saias told him that he'd lied to the children. Told them it was shooting stars. They made wishes as they went back, unaware of the carnage just beyond them.
*
Scrawled upon the wall, Thus unto ashes. Even tyrants burn.
Written in charcoal. Rain would wash it away, though the guards would destroy it by the morn.
It became a crime punishable by death, these words. Yet, something had ignited. All over they appeared. Even under the threat of death. A rallying cry, this spark had lit something among the peasants. Perhaps they would die, but they would face their tyrants as the magic rained down upon them, or the weapons found their flesh.
Some said that it was Sigurd the traitor risen from the ashes which had immolated him. A ghost filled with vengeance to enact revenge upon the country.
Some said it was a Crusader reborn, back to bring justice and revenge to the land again.
Wherever he went, Reinhardt still inspired a mythos. Across a church, a figure of flames in charcoal. Furtive glances, the scratch of a burned stick.
And beneath this mural, the words. Thus unto ashes. Even tyrants burn.
*
Reinhardt returned to the castle Arvis had taken hold of. He bowed as Arvis looked back from the hearth. Arvis spent much time looking into the flames, as if they might divine a way forward for him.
"You've been causing quite a stir. You were a good choice," Arvis said.
"I was born to serve," Reinhardt said.
And never mind that he once said those words to another. Once who he served with all his heart, all his loyalty, all his life.
Arvis smiled. "All you needed was some forging. This was inside you all the while. You let yourself get entangled."
"What are your orders, milord?"
"First, I've added some more titles to your name. No need to thank me. Hearing about how angry it made Julius was payment enough."
"Many thanks, my liege," Reinhardt said.
Arvis continued speaking as if Reinhardt had said nothing.
"Secondly, Isaach is in the midst of a rebellion. One which Granvalle is having difficulty quelling, with all those talented swordsmen about. It'll make their army easy picking. Make them distracted and demoralized, so they'll be ripe for an attack to their flank. Scatter them, destroy them," Arvis said.
"Yes, milord," Reinhardt said.
"If you can keep their troops occupied, it will make Granvalle more weak. Divert as many as you can from Bellhalla. I trust you will have no trouble killing entire armies?"
"None, milord," Reinhardt said.
Neither he, nor Arvis would get the pleasure of dealing the final blow. Fate had ensured that. But, he could be the one to lead to Julius's destruction. The first spark to start the inferno. His one solace through it all.
"And Reinhardt? Remember this well. History will not remember you. You will be no hero. What you do, you do in the shadows. But, perhaps with your help, this world can be saved from the clutches of the Loptyrian empire."
Funny enough, for once, Lord Arvis was wrong. History would remember him, but as a legend, a myth. Not as himself, but a folk hero shrouded in mystery twice over.
Once as Reinhardt of Friege, the second coming of Thrud. And then as the hero scrawled in charcoal on forts as a protest by the powerless. The last cry against tyranny.
Still, fame was meaningless now. What did it matter if he became a knight of such renown, if he lost everything he held dear? He'd sworn to be hers until his last breath, and to her, everything he'd ever done was meaningless in the end.
It wouldn't matter what fame, what renown or glory he earned.Not anymore.
But, revenge--That could soothe the unending pain in him. The agony that had begun the moment she said goodbye to him. Revenge until death claimed him. That was a life he could live.
"All the better. I should like history to forget me," Reinhardt said.
"Truly?" Arvis chuckled.
"Reinhardt of Friege has died, and reborn as Reinhardt of Velthomer. That is all. Let them remember that," Reinhardt said.
"And from there, I shall be a footnote in someone else's saga."
"You're surprisingly humble," Arvis said.
Sometimes the ghost of him remembered.
Not the gaze of others, but the gaze of her. How his heart felt like it was full of magic when she bestowed the Blessed Sword upon him, and told him how he was the finest knight in the land--no, in the entire era. How he treasured it, and kept it close. Like a promise.
What he wanted...he couldn't have. He had wanted to be remembered as her one and only love, and consort. To be remembered as a powerful, good and kind man who remained close to his sister Olwen for all their lives. To be remembered as just and brave, a man of good standing. A pillar of Friege, and Princess Ishtar's steadfast support, and her consort.
All foolish wishes, never to be granted. All gone now. Reinhardt Schutaeze might as well be considered dead, along with every dream. Who he was now was an another being entirely. Like a wraith who survived only on hatred, Arvis had brought him back from the edge of death.
But, he brought him back to kill. To destroy. He was no longer Princess Ishtar's sword, but Lord Arvis's. And unlike once, where he had been a guardian kept in waiting. This sword was meant not to protect, but to cut down all of Granvalle.
And any of Jugdral which got in his way.
"...Let them forget about this chapter, at least. If anyone remembers these actions, then I died too soon," Reinhardt said.
"Understandable," Arvis said.
Arvis looked around at the library.
"It's become more empty here. Anton was executed by the Welkenrosen. Accused of treason. I'm afraid that my loyal vassal did not meet a swift end. Any who linger too long in serving me shall join his fate. Julius is growing more chaotic by the day."
"I am sorry for your loss. I only know him for a mere moment, but he seemed a loyal retainer."
"He was. I owe much to his support. He refused to retire even when he grew old and when Julius's descent began. And now, he's merely another casualty from Julius."
"Deirdre wasn't enough. Eventually, he'll come for you. That monster which wears my son like a coat won't be satisfied until he's razed the entirety of Jugdral."
"I know," Reinhardt said.
"The only thing we can do is burn it first," Arvis said.
And why not? It'd worked once before.
"I've something for you."
Arvis handed over the tome. Dusty as it was, Reinhardt could read the gilt words upon it.
"Meteor? I've only heard of this. It's rare enough that I've never come face to face with it...Though some of Friege's royalty could wield some incredibly complex tomes."
Arvis smirked.
"It's no fairy tale. I'm sure you'll make some good use of it."
And with that, he was dismissed. Arvis wasn't much for social niceties, unless it was to cause insult to those he hated, or manage some social climbing. And in this dark era, ruled by the Scion of Darkness, Arvis wasn't doing much social climbing.
Reinhardt left the castle, and his lord behind. Into the night, towards Isaach.
For one thing he was sure: blood awaited him wherever he would go.
