Chapter Text
Phoenix Gate, the fortress that has been the cornerstone of the Rosfield’s power since the Duchy was founded. Now, it lies in ruin, reduced to little more than a broken shell, its once mighty stone walls torn asunder by the power of not one, but two Eikon’s.
Adjusting her hood to better shield her from the rain, she walks through what remains of the ash-stained gate with her head held high. Why shouldn’t she? This is after all, her achievement, her moment of victory.
Were only it not marred by the passing of her son, her Joshua, but she had always known he was not long for this world, blessed and cursed in equal measure as he was, a constant contradiction of strength and weakness. No, she has already accepted it.
The men that have been sent to guard her meander about the ruins of the once great fortress, crawling like silver ants across the broken rubble, searching for survivors. All, of which are put to the sword, Imperial, and Rosarian alike. A mercy, given the state many of them are in, how any of them still draw breath is a mystery for the Imperial Astrologers.
The captain of the squad finally notes her approach. Even with his full faced helm she can clearly see he is surprised to see her here, after having left her at the encampment. “My condolences your Grace, is there ought we can do?”
A token offering, one probably meant to win him her favour. She dismisses it with all the contempt it deserves. “Heh, haven’t you done enough captain?” The pleasure that rolls up her spine at the sight of him recoiling at her words is intoxicating. “Joshua was my world, now he is gone.” A fact, nothing more. “I can only pray there will be a place for me in in the world his…Radiance seeks to create.” Her fingers dig into the flesh of her palm over the hesitation of the emperors preferred term of address, something that will of course go unnoticed here, but can never be allowed in the vaulted halls that are about to open their doors to her.
“I see,” the captain acquiesces as he returns to his work, not that there is much left to do. The rain falling from on high will cleanse the ash, washing it to the sea, relieving them of any need or obligation to fulfil any funerary rights for the fallen. The bodies that remain can be left for the beasts.
The captain has barely moved five steps before he calls out to her again, “your Grace, over here.”
She is beginning to lose her patience with this captain. Yes, she had come of her own volition to see the aftermath of the battle, but out of idle curiosity and the hopes of distraction, not to be bothered by the inane observations of a lowly soldier.
Still, while she is here, she may as well look, just in case he has managed to find something of worth in the rubble. Raising a hand to her face, she inhales the rose scented oil covering her wrist in hopes that it will suppress some of the stench that still lingers in the air. The action is in vain, the smell of smoke and cinder too heavy, even with the rain and her own perfume the overwhelming odour of sulphur and ash suffuses her senses, causing her nose to wrinkle in distaste.
An emotion that soon overtakes her entire expression as she gazes down at what the captain has uncovered.
Of course, he would survive.
For all his failures strength was never one of them.
Face down in the dirt, his once white leather jerkin dyed grey with the heavy layer of rain-soaked soot that covers him from head to toe, her first born disappointment still draws breath.
“The rubble must have protected him from the worst of the flames,” the captain concludes as he gestures to the curved archway that obviously served as a firebreak, “shall we take him prisoner?”
She turns her back on the boy, already walking away as she hands out her judgement, eager to be out of the rain that is already starting to soak through the fine velvet of her hood. “No need for that. Kill him.”
A more elegant solution comes to mind just as she finishes giving her order, but in the second it takes her to retract her command the good captain has already brought his sword to bear. Even as she calls for him to, “Wait!” The tempered steel plunges down, straight towards the unguarded back of Joshua’s failed shield.
She turns, expecting to see the spray of fresh drawn blood painting the blackened stones around them.
The stones are painted, yes, but not with blood.
No, the light of flames freshly kindled dyes the world red.
The boy, barely conscious, eyes glazed and empty apart from the light of power that burns there, stands as the blade that was meant to end his life melts in the hands of its wielder.
Phoenix.
Her mind latches onto that thought as soon as the flames engulf the boy’s form, waiting for them to ignite into the Semi-prime banner of the trailing cloak of feathers. The mark of the Dominant of the Phoenix, not the weak imitation the blessing Joshua had bestowed upon him had been, but the full power of the Eikon of Fire made flesh.
The boy grips his head as the flames continue to grow, veins of ember aether crawling along his visible skin, glowing brighter even as he screams.
The captain is too close, and too preoccupied with the bladeless hilt he still clasps to see the treasure he has stumbled across. “Kill it!”
Two of his men move forward blindly, blades drawn, only to be blown back by the flames that ignite along the boy’s arm. Flames that soon solidify into a gauntlet of obsidian lit by fire from within.
No feathers manifest, the aether that paints his skin with the fine script of the powers of an Eikon does not burn red, but the flames still lay waste to all those that rise against him, until the burden proves too much.
All at once the flames extinguish, and the power keeping the boy on his feet fades without even a whisp of smoke to mark its passing as he collapses.
The ruined courtyard rings with a silence only broken by the sound of the rain that continues to fall, until one of the braver—or more foolish—soldier’s cries out, “What the fuck!”
“Enough!” growls the captain, voice so shaken even the echo of his helm cannot cover it, “Seize him.”
The boy does not resist this time, in all likelihood has burnt up any reserve he had left to do so with that little demonstration.
The captain still seems of a mind to put an end to him as he grabs one of his men’s blades, discarding his own useless sword without a second glance.
“Wait,” she bids again, and this time he does not have the roar of sparked aether to claim he did not hear her.
“Your Grace?” He sounds so unmoored, as though he cannot even begin to comprehend why she would be commanding him to stay his blade. She will not be the one to tell him.
Navigating the broken and melted flagstones she comes to stand before the boy, searching for something, anything, that will reveal the truth of this matter to her.
He must sense her gaze upon him, even with his eyes all but closed, because he tries to turn away. An ingrained habit of his that has been rooted in all their interactions since the day she found him wanting. One that avails him little, restrained as he is by a soldier at each arm.
“Ca-Captain Duval,” a hoarse voice interrupts her inspection and drags her attention to one of the few survivors that has yet to be put to the sword. “I-I saw it, I know what it is…w-what he is, please spare me.”
The captain moves towards his man, arms raised in the universal gesture for peace. “Easy soldier, we’ll get you fixed up soon enough.” A lie, even the most talented of physickers could not save this talking corpse, who sits there with his skin melded to armour, all but burned black apart from the occasional white bone peeking out from ruined limbs that sit at odd angles, like a mishappen toy discarded by a bored child.
Taking out his own water skin the captain allows the man to drink before signalling for him to speak his piece. “Now lad, tell us what you saw.”
The words tumble free of his tongue and provide an answer that can barely be believed. “It’s him…he did this.” Hollowed eyes flick to the boy, only to dart away again in fear. “The Phoenix lost control and then so did he. The thing he became…it had to be an Eik—”
Blood slips down the soldier’s chin and then he’s choking, drowning on his own life until the little light left in his eyes fades.
Even unfinished the soldiers account paints a clear picture.
She looks at the boy and where most would see a broken First Shield, she now sees the Dominant of the second Eikon of Fire.
“W-what should we do your Grace?” The captain’s hesitance this time is understandable, as a soldier he is meant to follow orders, but his superiors said nothing of this, lacked the foresight they claim the Imperial Astrologers give them, and so he looks to her for guidance.
“We shall bring him with us.” A logical conclusion, what fool would toss away a crystal merely because it was covered in ash, even if those ashes are those of her own child.
Besides, his little display has bought the boy at least this much clemency, for now.
She walks away and with one final wave of her hand has her two ladies in waiting disposed of, they are not fit to serve her in the heights she is about to be raised to. Besides, she had already warned them what would happen if any ill befell Joshua.
The sound of their bodies landing against the cool stone of the ruined courtyard does not even cause her to turn, nor does the captains call for crystal bindings to be brought forth so as to properly secure their captive.
After all, everything is, at last, in its proper place.