Chapter Text
There was a friendly but naive King
Who wed a very nasty Queen;
The King was loved but
The Queen was feared.
Till one day strolling, in his court
An arrow pierced the kind King's heart,
He lost his life and
His lady love.
The whetstone ran over the blade, singing it’s own tune and Wyvern just shut his mind down, not hearing, not seeing, not thinking about anything else or anything at all. It was difficult with the tavern and the brothel this close, but he had done it before and he would do it again. After a while it was easy to tune out the horrid voice of the minstrel that sounded as if someone was torturing a cat and the words of the song that had accompanied him for the last decade. A song that was long since overhauled but still popular because of what happened all these years ago, and because the nobles of the Holy Empire of Sanbreque loved it, for they believed it to be a proof of the might of their nation.
His sergeant had gone off to report their successful return to their superiors and to inquire for new orders, while he and his two comrades were seeing to their gear, sharpening their weapons and trying to repair whatever had been damaged on their armor. Not that they had the needed material to do that decently. As an imperial branded soldier, Wyvern could be happy if he got replacement for any damaged gear at all, not to mention rations that were not leftovers from the normal soldiers table. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a warm meal inside the barracks.
Not that the building Wyvern was in could be called a barrack for sure, since the thing was nothing but a wooden shed. Four walls and a roof with a door, but it was better than nothing, compared to the countless days and nights, Wyvern and his three comrades had spend outdoors and in the rain. The coast at the Strait of Autha was prone to rain, and Wyvern had spend a lot of his days there, the war of the Holy Empire of Sanbreque against the Kingdom of Waloed nothing but a war of attrition, a stalemate that not even the Wardens of Light and Darkness seemed to be able to break. Or maybe they didn't even want to, but politics had never bothered Wyvern. After all, he was nothing but a Branded, a slave and a blade of war.
He couldn't even remember the last time he had been back at the barracks in Oriflamme. Four years ago, five? The days had washed and faded into each other, and yet while he had lost this detail, there was one thing, that was still burned into his mind like the brand had been cut into his cheek. The day he had been pulled into the imperial legion.
Wyvern had always been a soldier, trained to be nothing else from childhood on, but it had never been his choice to serve the Holy Empire of Sanbreque. When the flames swallowed his life, he clung to them desperately, because he couldn't remember anymore what brought him onto the battlefield in the first place. He swung the dull blade in his hands to stay alive, not understanding who he fought and why. He didn't even know why he tried to survive, but he did and he fought with all he had, blade and fire alike. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have.
He found himself on a table soon after, strapped down with leather and chains, a wooden block stuffed between his teeth. He could still smell the blood and sweat in the air, could hear the soldiers around him cursing him for his raw strength and blind determination, some claiming he had broken bones. He didn't know. But then he had felt the needle on his cheek and had started to trash, tried to burn through the ropes, when his mind suddenly realized, what was happening. While he couldn't remember his name, he knew that the magic he carried, was not his own. He hadn't been born with it. It had been a gift. They had to understand... but then he remembered flashes, feelings, heard screams echoing in his ears and the darkness followed right after...
Wyvern pushed the memory away, removing the whetstone from the edge of his blade, giving it a thorough look over. So far the steel didn't show any signs of rust or wear, still like a mirror in the dim light of the shed and since this sword and the small dagger at his back were his only means of defense, he better kept them both in shape, especially since requesting a new blade was more often than not, met with anger and violence.
Slipping the whetstone in one of his pockets, Wyvern let the blade slide into the harness on his back, before opening the buckle and setting the weapon down. As long as their sergeant was inquiring for new orders he could sit down in a corner and maybe catch a few moments of sleep. Maybe even scheming towards the grand goal of this horrible adventure he had been thrown into all these years ago, unasked and unwanted.
"Don't sleep too tight," Aevis remarked, sheathing his own sword again. "I'm sure the Sergeant will be back soon and we'll be moving out, before even getting something to bite."
"Would be scraps and leftovers from the tables anyways," Wyvern growled, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his sword on his right side between himself and the wall. He let his head fall against the wood and closed his eyes. "We'll be better off if they send us out before, cause at least then we can hunt something fresh or steal something that is not already moldy."
Biast chuckled from where he leaned against the doorframe, before he stepped back into the shed and sat down next to Wyvern, who opened one eye in his direction. "You've got a point there," he remarked, but then he sighed. "I doubt Tiamat will be back in the next hour. Get some rest. I know you barely slept the last weeks."
Wyvern just nodded, but before he could even allow himself to drift off decently, he could hear steps approaching the hut and Biast's sigh was answer enough. So much to his hour of rest. Their sergeant had returned, but Wyvern decided to keep his eyes closed, just breathing in and out, trying to relax his muscles. He heard the steps moving around the hut, checking all sides of their poor resting place before he stepped through the doorframe, blocking out the bit of light that fell into the darkness.
"We have our orders," he said without preamble. "Wyvern, I know you're awake, so get up, we'll be moving out, the moment I have told you what's going on. And we'll be heading out, once I have briefed you all on the new orders, so no time for rations either. Prepare yourself to hunt."
Knowing that any word of protest would get him nowhere, Wyvern released a sigh and pushed himself off the cold floor, picking his sword up again and buckling it to his back. If he had known, that he wouldn't have no more than five minutes, he wouldn't have even tried to sleep. Stretching his neck from one side to the other, he released his breath in a long, but suppressed sigh. No need to rile Tiamat up even more, who seemed to be on the edge already, a growl on his lips and a flash of annoyance in his eyes. Wyvern had to be careful for a while, if he didn't want to feel the bite of the whip again, even though leather belts were just as bad.
Tiamat nodded at him, then his eyes wandered to Aevis and Biast. “Thanks to our duties at the frontlines to Waloed, we have been out of touch with the current situation,” he explained and Wyvern was sure, that this could be counted as the understatement of the last years. “Due to Waloed’s constant push and the empires diminishing resources, the Holy Emperor has spoken that new lands must be won, as Great Gregor wills it.”
Wyvern wasn’t sure how much of this was the will of Great Gregor, or whatever goddess the Empire had chosen to be their guardian or their patsy. No goddess had anything to do with this, for this was all driven by the greed and arrogance of mankind, for what else should it be? Men with power always aspired to have even more and Sylvestre Lesage was the prime example for this fact. Holding in his sigh, Wyvern turned his attention back to Tiamat, rolling his shoulders underneath the belt of his sheath.
"Only a small battalion will remain at the Breadbasket to keep an eye on Waloed, our main forces are already on the move since a few days and we are to overtake them and scout ahead. We will have to hurry even if they are slow because to the amount of men and gear, that needs to be moved," the sergeant continued.
"And where are we suppose to be moving to all of a sudden?" Biast asked, leaning against one wall of the lousy shed.
"The Emperor has decided on his next move and against all assumptions, we will not head towards Twinside." Tiamat stepped away from the open door behind him, and into the darkness of the hut. "Make ready. We'll be moving west towards the outpost at the Kingsfall and begin scouting from there. Rosaria will soon be under the Empire's control."
Wyvern couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe what he had just heard. The empire was planning to invade the grand duchy of Rosaria? After their failed attempt over a decade ago, they would try again?
But there was also a chance. After thirteen years it would be the emperor's madness, and the madness of the traitor he had taken as his second wife, that maybe would allow him to make things right? To finally reach out to those he had hurt and atone for the sins he had committed. Wyvern took a deep breath and for a moment he closed his eyes.
It was time for Clive Rosfield to return home.
Notes:
The poem at the beginning is actually a song from Resident Evil: Code Veronica. It’s Berceuse/Alexia’s Lullaby, but the text just seemed to fit on Elwin and Anabella like a glove.
Chapter 2: A Flame Summoned
Summary:
The border to Rosaria is in sight, but unfortunately Clive didn't come alone... the whole bloody army of Sanbreque is behind him, along with the Warden of Light...
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Clive barely remembered the long march from Oriflamme towards the Rosarian border. He had long since learned that pulling into himself on these long walks kept him sane, while still being alert for the dangers on the road. But this time everything was different, since Clive's mind and heart refused to settle into the white stupor of travel. He didn't want to hope that fate for once was on his side, but he couldn't ignore it either. It battled with the despair of his memories, rising even in the daylight now, while he followed his comrades along dusty roads and dirty rivers.
The memories of the events of Phoenix Gate were still sharp like a razor in his mind, the feeling of fire, lava and stone, the horror and despair at the realization that it was his claws, that tore into the Phoenix, the distressing cries of his brother, begging him for help, while he couldn't will the beast he had become to stop. The blood of the Phoenix was on his claws, the smell of iron in his nostrils, before everything around him was consumed by fire.
He barely remembered anything after he had been pulled up by the soldiers in the keep, his mother throwing him away like a broken tool. The days after faded into a haze of pain, fire, despair, anger and rage, Clive not able to form a coherent thought, functioning only because someone was still pulling the strings on his exhausted body, especially after they had engraved him with the cursed brand, blood now soaking his dirty clothes even more.
The memories came soon after, and Clive had tried to kill himself more than once with the realization of what had happened in Rosaria. The first time had been shortly after being recruited by Tiamat, the fever haze he had been in since Phoenix Gate finally lifting and leaving him with nothing but despair. He had slit his wrists then, just watching the blood flow, until Tiamat had wrapped his hands around the cuts and healed them with his own harsh magic. The healing had hurt more than the cutting in hindsight, but the beating afterwards Clive couldn’t even feel, too numb in body and mind.
The second time it had Biast, who tore the blade from his neck, bandaging the wound, before giving him a verbal lashing that never reached Clive’s ears. After that, they never let him out of sight again, and once Aevis joined when Clive was seventeen, there was no longer a chance either. With their missions mostly stealth assassinations, Clive couldn’t even try to run into the blade of an enemy and Tiamat kept him close until Clive finally broke down and fell into line, three years after Phoenix Gate had been ground to dust by his own hands. He had grown numb to everything. Pain, guilt, grief and sorrow. He just fought and existed, because he was not allowed anything else. Not the freedom of death and the eternal fires of hell.
Until they returned to Oriflamme for the first time since that fateful day. Five years after the events of Phoenix Gate, the empire had pulled the Bastards for the first time back to Oriflamme itself. Until then they had moved from one imperial outpost to the other. Only told what their mission was, before setting out again to invade a stronghold on Dhalmekian territory to gather intel or to steal their specific supplies. Sometimes entering a nobleman's manor to slit his throat, because he had become uncomfortable for one of the imperials High Cardinals. Killing those who traded in Bearers without paying the taxes the Holy Empire demanded, making their Bearers automatically property of the state to be sold for her coffers again.
The Bastards had worked in the shadows wherever the empire wanted and needed them - to kill, to invade, to steal or to intimidate from the shadows. No matter if it was inside the borders of the empire or in Dhalmekia or Kanver.
Until in 865 they were pulled back to Oriflamme to be briefed on their new threat and assignment, for the King of Waloed hat crossed the Strait of Autha and marched onto the Empire's very own coast. Needed for their abilities in scouting and interrupting enemies supply lines - especially with Clive's ability to cast true fire - the Bastard were needed on the frontlines to support the troops in slowing and stopping Waloed's desire to set foot on Storm.
It was in the barracks of Oriflamme, that Clive had his life and his reality destroyed once again. They had settled down in that same lousy shed at the garrison again, but that shed was close enough to a tavern and a cheap brothel alike and while his comrades had no trouble sleeping despite the noise, Clive couldn't and so he listened until he would fall into an uneasy rest.
Until he overheard two high ranking politicians and soldiers talking, about how the disaster at Phoenix Gate had not brought the duchy to it's knees, but had allowed it to rise even stronger than before. Archduke Elwin Rosfield still the head of the state, even though his youngest son had just returned from a long absence to protect him from their enemies, now being prepared to ascend the throne over time, when he himself and his father considered him ready for it.
In that moment, Clive hadn't been sure if he wanted to cry, vomit, laugh, slam his fist into a wall until bones broke or scream. His father and his brother were still alive... they hadn't died in Ifrit's flames. He hadn't killed them. Five long years had he fought and bled for the Empire, trying to end his own existence to atone for what he had done to his family. In that moment, Clive was relieved for the first time, that the others had always been there to stay his hand, didn't allow him to go through with what he had planned in his self hatred.
It wasn't the only low blow Clive had to stomach, for soon after Oriflamme celebrated the rise of a new Emperor and his wedding to his second wife and the Emperor had been no other than Sylvestre Lesage and his new wife the woman that had sold Clive to the imperial frontlines to be branded as a slave - his own mother, Anabella Rosfield.
Clive had tried to run and desert after the revelation over and over again, tried to leave the empire behind to return home to his father and his brother - even if it was just to apologize for what he had done and then accept his death by their hand, but the suicide watch of the Bastards had remained and was suddenly now a prison he didn’t seem to be able to escape and in the end, he lost count of the amount of times he was whipped. He knew why Tiamat did it and he knew also, why he didn’t kill him and be done with it. Tiamat and the others would be beheaded for just knowing a deserter if he managed to escape and Tiamat would not kill him outright, his fire magic to potent and to relevant for their missions. He was a poisoned blade that Tiamat needed to keep their position as the Emperor’s elite assassin unit secured. He was the blade Tiamat needed to keep them alive.
Soon after they were ordered to the Strait of Autha and pitted against the forces of the Kingdom of Waloed and even though Clive tried and tried to escape whenever he saw a chance, he never made it far before the others caught up with him and somewhere down the line, his will to fight broke, the fire that kept him alive for so long, began to diminish until it burned out and Clive no longer had the strength to go against Tiamat's orders. His hope began to fade with each time he could taste blood on his tongue, feel it wet on his face and the sweat in the heat of his flames on his skin, could smell the scorched flesh in his nose and wash the ash from his hair in some icy streams.
The few rare moments, where he could help others who didn't treat him with disdain made him remember who he was originally, but with every day that just seemed to blend into the next, Clive Rosfield began to fade away, and just like it had been after Phoenix Gate, Wyvern took his place and did naught else but fight, kill and exist, because there was nothing else for him left in this never ending nightmare of a life. Not even the announcement of the birth of his half-brother to his mother and the Emperor two years later could drag Clive back again, numbed by the pain and the cruelty he was objected to every single day. Wyvern just took the news and filed them away, maybe killing the next man he was assigned to take out a little more forcefully than needed.
Until this moment and with each step closer to Rosaria, Wyvern began to crumble away, allowing Clive to rise again and allowing him to hope. Once they entered Rosaria, they were in his homeland and Clive knew Rosaria better than any of his Comrades, knew the land and the rivers, the mountains and the towns. His chances to outrun them were better now and even if he got caught by the Shields, at least he would be away from the empire then.
How he would make them see who he was, he would decide when the moment arrived. If it arrived and his own wandering thoughts didn't get him killed first, and so Clive took a deep breath and concentrated on the road ahead. They had long overtaken the legions and were on scouting duty ahead, but still too far away from Rosaria for Clive to start another attempt to desert. But he knew that now it was just a matter of time and he had to be patient.
"I don't know, what the Emperor expected," Biast growled under his breath, when they moved to the far right of another legion through the high grass towards the plains on the Rosarian side that would soon give way to the woods around the Dim, that had not yet been swallowed by the ever progressing Blight. "He is marching with his full legions in the open and now he is surprised that we come back with the warning, that Rosaria is pulling it's troops to it's borders to meet with ours?"
Aevis shrugged. “Maybe a lapse in judgement, which I doubt will happen again,” he said, his voice holding an air of indifference in it and Clive could indeed believe, that he didn’t care about anything at all. Unlike Tiamat and Clive, who knew their families - even though Clive did his best to hide, where he was born and into which family especially - Aevis and Biast had been given away by their parents right after their knack for magic had made itself known and just like every other Bearer, they had been branded and handed to the imperial army for training. They had grown up in the ranks of the military and knew nothing but the service to the empire, but Clive had learned soon enough, that neither actually cared about who they fought, and why. They held the loyalty to Sanbreque only because they didn’t know any different.
Tiamat’s loyalty was a true one though, and partly Clive found it ironic how similar their lives had been, before different catastrophes had ripped them apart and forced them to rebuild itself. Stronger, faster, better and colder. Tiamat and Clive had both been born into the high society of their respective homelands, but unlike Clive who’s ability to wield magic had been a gift by his brother at first, Tiamat’s had been discovered late and not even being the scion of a noble family had spared him the fate of being branded. But the pride of being a son of Sanbreque had stayed with him and it showed in his loyalty and in his actions.
Yes, Tiamat still fought to survive, but he did it differently than the other three. For him it was still a question of duty, loyalty and honor; feelings that Clive could understand for he felt them too, just not towards the nation that had him enslaved and branded.
A spark in the aether stirred Clive out of his marching stupor and even Ifrit lifted his head from his resigned slumber - after all Clive had held him in chains since the Night of the Flames and only fought with the Blessing of the Phoenix - and growled into the density of it, but then it became a purr like that of a cat in front of the hearth and the feeling of home and familiarity was suddenly nearly suffocating. Clive felt his breath hitched and his heart skip a beat, while a cold ran up his spine and the fear spread through his limbs.
The Phoenix was here. Joshua was here. After so many years he could feel him in the aether and now that he knew, he realized that he had always felt him, from the very moment he had come into the world and done his first cry. Both Dominants and sons of fire… it was no wonder that they had always felt close to each other and Clive regretted the way he had come to realize it. He still couldn’t understand why Ifrit has slipped his grasp like that, how he didn’t have any control über him.
Not that musing mattered now. The past was done and Clive could only hope, that Rosaria was still a home for him.
Red began to glint against the green of the woods in the distance and the sun reflected on the steel of shields, swords and spears and Clive felt his body shake. The rosarian frontline had arrived and he was still here on the imperial side, torn from all those he loved. He needed to get there, needed to be there…
“Wyvern, control yourself,” Tiamat growled and snapping back to himself, Clive realized that he had summoned a flame underneath his hand, holding it there until it had began to climb up his arm without really burning him, for his own flames and those of the Firebird could never harm him or anyone he cared about.
Shaking the spell off his hand, Clive shortened his steps to fall in line behind the sergeant, throwing a hidden glance to Aevis and Biast, who looked at him with irritation, but also surprise and Clive had so scold himself for being so stupid. For years he had tried to get close to Rosaria and had tried to desert to get home. Now he was so close and his own impatience was about to get him killed. He had to keep himself under control.
Another spark lit up the aether and that flash of light was more than familiar to Clive and once more, his heart was caught in a painful and crushing grip. His legs began to move faster out of his own accord, his fingers curled into fists as he overtook Tiamat and the next line of soldiers, breaking out of the formation they had held.
A hand wrapped itself around his wrist and he was pulled back roughly, someone barked into his ear, but he didn’t hear it, his eyes fixed on where he had felt that spark in the aether and he barely registered the strengthening hold on his wrist and the arm that wrapped itself around his neck. He could feel the aether strengthen, could feel it ripple with light, nearly painfully strong. So familiar cause he had seen him rise to the skies so many times…
“Wyvern!”
This couldn't be happening and he wouldn't let it happen. In no way, his brother was strong enough to face Bahamut. As far as Clive knew, the Phoenix had never faced another Eikon since Joshua had returned eight years ago, while Bahamut had traded frequent blows with Odin. The firebird could never stand against the dragon of the empire. He had to stop him, or bring the Warden of Light down himself. It didn't matter - he had to make it right, for all of them.
"Let me go, Tiamat," Clive screamed, pulling and pushing against the hold his sergeant had on him, nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process, when Tiamat tore at his arm and drove it into his back. Throwing his head to the side, Clive tried to hit him on the nose, but unfortunately Tiamat had anticipated the moved and a gloved hand buried itself into his dark hair, yanking him towards his superior.
"Stop it, Wyvern! You'll only make it worse. For us and for yourself!" Tiamat hissed.
For a moment, Clive's movements and his resistance died, but then he steeled his heart and took a deep breath. Letting his eyes fall closed, he leaned his head further back to ease the grip, Tiamat had on his hair. "Thank you for not letting me kill myself, Tiamat and thank you for keeping me alive for all these years," he said softly and deep down, Clive really meant it. "But this is, where I have to choose blood over the bonds we have."
"What the..."
Even though Ifrit was ready to spring forward underneath his fingertips, Clive reached out to the Blessing of the Phoenix and the firebird trilled in his ear. Flames of fire erupted from Clive's back and he whirled them around himself like a tornado, breaking and burning away the hold Tiamat held on him, despite the fact that his sergeant noticed in the last moment what he was planning and summoned a shield to protect himself from the fire that was about to engulf him with feathers of flame. It didn't matter for Clive, for in the moment he felt the hold loosen he surged forward, breaking free.
He didn't look back, his feet carrying him over the plain towards the Rosarian forces. There was still a good distance between the Shields and the legions of the Empire, but if Bahamut went against the Phoenix, they wouldn't be far apart enough and Clive shuddered at the memory of what he had done to Phoenix Gate.
He felt the pull of the aether around him, felt it like a sickening wave and Ifrit raged against it, rattled against his resolve. A spark of light spread through the aether and with a roar, that sent a shudder down his spine, Clive saw the massive form of Bahamut rise into the sky, accompanied by the chanting of the imperial soldiers, cheering on their prince. It seemed surreal, that Prince Dion was as old as Joshua. Nearly fourteen years, since he had seen the boy at the Remembrance Ceremony and Clive pushed the thought away. The stakes were too high to be distracted.
Another pull in the aether and the warmth of the flames spread over him like a friend welcoming him home, like the embrace of a loved one and he had to hold back the tears that threatened to cloud his eyes. "Joshua," he whispered under his breath, his legs still carrying him towards the frontlines, evading rocks and other obstacles, pushing aside the soldiers of some stray units that stood in his way. He couldn't be too late - not this time.
With wings spread wide, the Phoenix took to the skies and Clive could hear the Shields now chant in the same way as the imperial soldiers had before, cheering on their champion and this time, the tears slipped free, only to be torn away by the wind. The firebird was beautiful, feathers of red and green shimmering in the light of the sun, the crystal on his chest glowing in the blue of the aether. A trill answered the roar of the dragon in kind, but for Clive it was like a welcoming call, a lure to lead him finally back home. And Clive wanted to come home, there was nothing in Valisthea he desired more...
Bahamut's roar shook the ground he was running on, but he didn't stop. He was nearly there, had nearly cleared the lines of the imperials that began to slowly move backwards, while their prince was hovering above them. Clive had seen the destruction Bahamut could wreak on friend and foe alike, his areal flare not discriminating between the two. No wonder his legions tried to increase the battlefield and move away from what would most likely be the center of it all.
Another pull in the aether, long and burning, but not burning with fire. Bahamut had wound his wings around himself, and Clive had seen him do this often enough. The very moment his wings would unfold they would rain destruction onto the Shields and even though he had seen his younger brother shield himself in their fight, he knew he could not protect their soldiers and fight himself. It was one or the other. Clive could not let that happen, he had to stop it.
In the last thirteen years, Ifrit had often pushed against the boundaries of Clive's will, yearning to be free and just wreak destruction upon whoever opposed them. But Clive's fear had held him in shackles as tightly as possible, dreading what would happen if the inferno was ever freed again. But interfering in a fight between Eikons was suicide, unless Clive became one himself.
Bahamut's pull on the aether became almost unbearable and Clive pushed himself forward, the air like ice in his lungs and his muscles burning, but there was no stopping and he wouldn't. Not now when his brother needed him. The cry of the Phoenix responded over the plains that were soon to become a battlefield, drenched in blood of Rosarian and Imperial alike.
Closing his eyes, Clive let the walls fall and felt for the inferno. "Come to me, Ifrit," he whispered. "We do this together!"
He felt the flames spring forward and he allowed them to engulf him, burn him, mold and renew him, allowed them to rise him higher and higher while his body shifted and reformed. The perception of the world around him changed, but Clive adapted to it in a matter of moments and his changed view focused on Bahamut. The world seemed to slow down around him, as the great wings of the dragon began to open and Clive knew that it was now or never, if he wanted to save his brother and his people.
Surging forward, Clive felt the flames underneath his claws and Ifrit's movements were his own, fast and precise. Nothing the way it had been at Phoenix Gate, when he had been no more but a bystander before realizing that he couldn't control his actions. That he was viewer and actor in the same moment. But his time, things would be different. Clive felt surprise and shock ripple through the aether, but he didn't stop his advance, his sights set on the Warden of Light ahead of him.
Muscles of fire, lava and stone pushed forward and upward and Clive spread the claws of his right hand apart, before balling them into a fist. His massive form collided Bahamut midair, throwing them both over the lined up legions on either fighting party and into a small piece of the forest on the side. The trees cracked and broke underneath their combined weight, catching fire when Clive's claws pushed into the ground to slow his tumbling, leaving long rifts in the soft earth.
Bahamut though was back on his feet with a fast roll, that Clive hadn't expected and he spread his wings wide and brought himself up in the air. "Fuck," Clive cursed, claws digging deep he threw himself around and forced his mass back towards the battlefield. Bahamut was hovering above him, but Clive had to get to Joshua, had to make him understand, that he was not here to hurt him but to protect... like his First Shield should.
Clive had failed his little brother once already, he would not repeat that mistake.
Bahamut had returned to his original point above his troops, his wings holding him up and floating. Some of the lines were in disarray, but they had returned to their formation soon enough, while Clive was walking along the lines of the Rosarian Shields, his steps sending tremors through the ground, scorching the grass. The tension in the aether was palpable and while Bahamut was carefully curious and intrigued, he could feel the fear radiating from the Phoenix and Clive felt his heart clench, skipping a beat. He couldn't even fault his brother after what he had done.
Clive stopped in front of the Phoenix before bowing his head. "Forgive me brother, for what I've done," he said softly, hoping and praying that Joshua would understand, but uncertainty and fear turned into something akin to resolve and anger and Clive couldn't blame him. How could he? He had nearly ripped the boy to shreds. Flexing his claws once again, Clive turned around and set his sights onto his adversary, still hovering over his own legions, waiting and observing.
Rising to his full height, Clive looked at Bahamut. There had been a time, Clive had considered the boy a friend, when they both had been nobles. Oh, how far Clive had fallen? From the Archduke's first born son to an imperial slave? But he deserved it, after what he had done at Phoenix Gate. Still, there were enough manners of the Lord Marquess left to offer the son of the Emperor... his stepbrother, a peaceful way out.
"Prince Dion," Clive called out into the aether, knowing that nobody but Dion and his brother could hear his words. Eikons and aether were bound differently, and he planned to use that to his advantage. A conversation away from the prying eyes and ears of the Emperor and his troops. "You must know that this advance towards Rosaria is an act of war."
Bahamut shook his head, his wings still holding up afloat, his tail restlessly threshing in the air. "The Emperor has spoken and his will is my order," he replied and Clive felt him pulling in the aether around him. Could the boy from then really have changed like this, that he was no longer open for reasoning? But Clive had to admit to himself, that he had come into the fray with not the best impression, plucking Bahamut out of the air like a predator did with a bird.
Turning around, Clive was looking at the Phoenix and his heart was heavy at the sight. His little brother - ruler over life and death. He had to make things right and he knew that Bahamut was about to start another attack. He couldn't let it go through, had to do his sworn duty. "Joshua! Retreat and protect your people," he begged, allowing the fire cursing in his veins and he could feel Bahamut gather the aether for another onslaught. "Build a shield and leave him to me. Please, Joshua. I can't lose you, now that I just have found you again. I can't lose any of you again."
For a moment, they stared at each other, but then the Phoenix nodded. "Understood, but don't you dare dying," Joshua growled, his low voice forming a shriek in the firebird's beak. "We have much to talk about, you and I."
"That we have," Clive whispered, watching his brother in awe, when he pulled in the aether around him and then with a wide spread of his wings, threw of dome of iridescent light over their soldiers, flickering blue in rippling waves. But Clive knew that he had no time to admire how much his little brother had grown since the last time they had seen each other.
Bahamut's roar rolled over the plains and with wings spread wide, orbs of lights shot toward the shield and Clive just hoped, that it would hold, while Ifrit build his own and Clive scream against Bahamut in rage, summoning his flames and the dragon's orbs hammered into the flames, never reaching him. Letting the Brimstone-barrier fall away, he had to chuckle to himself for a moment. He had only seen Titan using that technique once, when the Republic of Dhalmekia had brought him on the field for a demonstration of their might, but the curious part of him, the boy who had always loved fairy tales and fantastic stories had filed it away for later, before Wyvern had wrapped himself around him again, suffocating him to protect.
Gathering the flames underneath his claws, Clive allowed Ifrit to come forward now without any holding back. Bahamut had made the first step twice, attacking the rosarian soldiers without provocation and he would no longer leave that without a response. Bahamut had the advantage of being airborne, but fireballs had no problem to range even that high and Clive had seen the prince in action more than once to have learned his tactic. Bahamut was not able to stay in high altitudes for long, the pull of the aether more difficult and more exhausting so far away from the surface.
Another volley of light was raining down and the Phoenix shrieked again, pulling more aether and Ifrit pushed against Clive and it was clear that being passive was no longer an option. Forming Hellfire underneath his claws, Clive waited only for another moment, before he pushed the massive attack towards the Warden of Light. It was a slow attack, that Bahamut was easily able to dodge, but in the same he turned his back to his opponent and Clive wasted no time, gathering his strength for a jump towards him.
Bahamut's wing was the first thing he was able to grab and holding onto it, Ifrit turned them in the air and with only one wing and their combined weight, they slammed into the ground and for a moment, Clive had a sense of Deja Vu, with the difference that this time, it was not his back, that was going to take the hit. But right before they touched down, Bahamut tore his wing from his grip and Clive had to let go, pushing himself away, and landing with all fours, while Bahamut barely caught his fall.
But Clive knew, that he had to make the moment count. Unlike Bahamut, neither he nor Joshua were really battle tested and used to their eikonic forms. If Bahamut was showing him a weakness, he had exploit it, no matter the cost and maybe also not caring about manners, and what was morally unacceptable. Using Ifrit's animalistic strength, Clive pushed forward and off from all fours, once again throwing the dragon from the air and back onto the ground. The impact sent a shockwave even through Clive's body, but he let go of the full prime and reduced it to a semi prime when he felt Dion losing his grip on the aether, It was more an instinctive reaction, but the very moment Clive felt the earth underneath his boots, he pulled his sword and laid it against the prince's neck, who was still prone on the ground, his white and silver armor covered in dirt.
Dion tried to reach for the lance by his side, but setting his boot against his lower arm, Clive stopped his advance and was answered with a defiant stare and a snarl. Holding his sword steady, Clive focused on the prince. "Go back to your Emperor, go back to the traitor he married and tell them, that Rosaria has now two Dominants and it would be wise to not lay a finger on the grand duchy ever again." Clive's words were a low growl, Ifrit's fire still burning in his semi-prime und Dion just stared at him, wide eyed, defiant, but also afraid. Bahamut had been the champion of Sanbreque not even bowing to the might of the Warden of Darkness and yet, here he was, slammed on his back by an eikon nobody but the Archduke's family had ever seen before. Clive let the semi-prime fall away and stepped back, allowing the Prince to gain his footing.
"You would betray the Holy Empire?" Dion asked and Clive could do nothing else but bark out a hoarse laugh.
"Betray? I never swore allegiance to your Emperor, for I was enslaved by your army, torn from my family after Phoenix Gate. I just fought to survive. My loyalty has always been with the Phoenix, for I swore to protect him with my life," he snarled. "Move, before I change my mind and hold onto you as a bargaining chip."
Picking up his lance, Dion stared at him for another minute, recognition and shock in his eyes, but then turned around and limped back to the frontlines of his army, still in disarray from the attack and the light orbs that had gone astray after being reflected by the Phoenix's shield and his own and for a moment Clive sighed. It would have been so easy to just unleash Hellfire on their forces, to end the invasion right there and burn the imperial army to cinders. But he wasn't the monster they had wanted to make out of him. He wouldn't let them. He had spilled enough blood in the name of the empire and he would have it no longer.
Turning around, Clive walked towards the frontlines of Rosaria, still unblemished without a man fallen and he allowed himself a small smile. A smile that fell away, when he saw them approach. His father, the Lord Commander and his little brother - a grown man now. Would they even recognize him? The last time they had seen him, he had been nothing but a teen, but now… now he was a killer and a monster.
There was only one thing he could do, to show who he was and maybe this would spare their swords for long enough to let him explain. Reaching deep down, Ifrit allowed him to brush over the Blessing of the Phoenix and feathers of fire and flame began to sprout on his back, catching the light on red and green, refracting and reflecting. He held the flames for as long as he could. Thirteen years of killing, thirteen years without a glimmer of hope to return home. And he returned home with the revelation that he had been the beast to lay waste to Phoenix Gate, that he had betrayed this home by fighting the wars of another. The brand was burning, the pain radiating from his cheek to his heart and Clive felt his steps falter. The question pressed itself up again. Would they listen to his story, or would they kill him on the spot? But at least he would die in Rosaria if they did. He would be home...
Clive's strength fled his body, the feathers of the Phoenix vanishing into nothingness and he stumbled, his knees giving out and he landed hard in the grass, just sitting there, staring at the people approaching him. His vision narrowed and the darkness was caressing his spirit, luring him into the nothingness of sleep. Ifrit growled in the back of his mind, refusing to give in, but Clive's strength was gone, the prime burning away whatever he had. He could hear the rustling of the grass underneath their boots now, could hear the whispers of the shields in the front lines, while it became harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open.
Suddenly the green shifted to red and Clive felt hands underneath his chin, lifting up his face, warm palms on his cheeks. Was that his father? He tried to clear his slipping thoughts, tried to shake the fog away that seemed to settle over everything. He barely noticed someone taking his hands, until he heard the snap of a lock and his connection to the aether was severed, Ifrit roaring in rage before suddenly being silenced. It was unsettling, it was painful and Clive swayed, before falling sideways into the grass. He felt his muscles spasm, felt himself shake like a leaf in a storm, before the black rolled in and finally allowed him to embrace it.
Notes:
Clive priming and going in between Phoenix and Bahamut as Ifrit was actually the scene that sparked the whole idea for this story. I listen a lot to music to just clear my head and sometimes the scenes just come with the music and in this case two songs were the biggest inspiration. Sons of Pythagoras with "Winds of Change" and the Remix of Clint Mansell's "Lux Aeterna" from the movie "Requiem for a Dream". That version became most known because it was used in the trailer for "The Lord of the Rings - The Two Towers" way back when.
Chapter Text
Elwin Rosfield felt his fingers cramp around the heft of his sword. It couldn't be, could it? They had thought Clive had perished in the flames of that monster, but that he was that monster? It seemed unbelievable and yet, this man sitting in front of him in the grass reminded him so much of himself, the wings of fire he had grown just right now in that moment. Feathers of the Phoenix... a prime to drive back the invading army of the empire... and empire, who's armor he wore.
Looking to the side, he saw Rodney holding the crystal fetters in a death grip, the leather of his gloves stretched tightly over his knuckles. His Lord Commander couldn't believe it either. Thirteen years and this was where they found the First Shield of Rosaria? Now close enough to the man and sure that he wouldn't try anything, Elwin sheathed his sword, before lifting the man's head with his hands. Tired and exhausted eyes met his and he nearly would have done a double take at the color, this deep saturated blue that he knew from his firstborn son. So unique to the boy... and yet the eyes so dead and broken.
But then, there was the large black brand on the boy's face and Elwin wanted to flinch and curse. An imperial slave. What had they done to him? Elwin barely noticed Rodney stepping forward, slipping the fetters over Clive's wrist and then clicking them shut. Clive's eyes widened, his body tensing, before trembling and then he slipped away from him, his eyes closing, while he fell bonelessly into the grass, twitching and spasming in exhaustion. The silence was deafening and all Elwin could hear was his heartbeat hammering in his chest. He was frozen, until Rodney knelt down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"We can't stay here, Elwin," the Lord Commander growled under his breath. "Clive... and that thing... might have put Bahamut on his back, but Sanbreque's legions are still at the ready mostly and we are exposed. And Joshua won't be able to prime either."
"I can prime," Joshua replied indignantly, when he went to his knees beside them but now Elwin shook his head.
"Rodney is right," he replied, his gloved fingers trailing over the crystal fetters that bound his older son. "You shielded our troops against the attacks of Bahamut and..." Why was it so hard to voice it out loud? "... Clive, while the empire was hit in the crossfires. You need your rest too. We withdraw farther behind our borders and hold the line."
Murdoch nodded and then pulled the lifeless body of the young soldier - Elwin's son - over his shoulders, carrying him off the battlefield and Elwin still didn't want to believe it. He wanted to reach out and make sure, that this was Clive for sure. He wondered how the boy he hadn't seen for so long would sound now. How his voice had developed... he wanted to know... Elwin took a shaking breath.
"Father, are you all right?" Joshua asked.
A sound that was a mix between a laugh, a bark, a sob and a scream slipped over Elwin's lips, before he pushed himself up from the grass and turned to Joshua. "No, I'm not," he replied, his voice threatening to choke on the tears he refused to cry, forcing his legs to move, that they didn't falter again, following the Lord Commander and his precious cargo. "Thirteen years I believed your brother dead, perished in the flames of the monster that rose over Phoenix Gate. I mourned him, cried for him, but on some days when I sat by your bedside, or in the weeks and months when you recovered and in the years that followed, I had forgotten about him, never thought about the son I had lost. And now I find him here, on the battlefield in our enemies armor, branded as a slave, driven to the slaughter like cattle, abandoned by the duchy he served, the people he defended, and the family he protected. We left him to the wolves. No, Joshua, I'm not all right. How could I be, now that I see what I did to my own son by simply doing nothing."
"We couldn't have known." Joshua's voice was weak and trembling. He didn't believe the words he had spoken himself, for Elwin could see the same guilt in his eyes, that he felt deep down in his soul. They all should have made sure - but he and Rodney especially.
"That is not an excuse," Elwin sighed. "We lived in peace, we had a roof over our head, always enough to eat. I don't want to know, how your brother had to live."
The murmurs of the shields grew louder and louder, the closer they got and by the time they had reached the lines, Elwin and Joshua had closed the distance to Murdoch and saw the looks that got thrown in their direction, even though the shields tried to not bend their heads too much to make it less obvious. There were quite a few left in the lines who had already served the duchy, when the empire had invaded Phoenix Gate. They had known Clive as a boy, had trained him and trained with him... and not only a few had lost people they cared about, when Clive had primed that day. It was a sickening realization and Elwin had to keep himself from reaching out to the shoulder of his unconscious son to show the men, that no matter what, he was still his flesh and blood and their Lord Marquess. Clive had saved them right now, but could this make up for the losses from all those years ago? And yet, could they make up for what Clive had to endure under the Empire's banner?
Elwin didn't want to care what the others thought. If Clive did have to live as a branded imperial soldier for thirteen years, it shouldn't matter what the people thought. He had atoned enough for what had occurred in Phoenix Gate, had suffered enough for Elwin knew, how Sanbreque treated her Branded. But Elwin had also been Archduke long enough to know, that this was not how the world they were living in was working.
The whole army of Rosaria had seen who had primed into that massive Eikon and they all could make the connection. They would hate Clive for the doom he had brought over Phoenix Gate, would despise him for the lives he had taken, when his flames had consumed the keep. Yes, Joshua was to blame as well, but the Phoenix was the holiest of holy for the grand duchy. They would never put any sort of guilt onto him. Would Elwin be able to protect him from the wrath of the people or would Clive be a different kind of slave, once he set foot into the castle in Rosalith?
The lines of the shield parted with precision to allow them through and Murdoch made a straight line to his own tent, before barking to send for the head physicker. Elwin though took a deep breath and then turned to the soldiers. "Attention!" he ordered and his voice carried over the the camp. Taking a deep breath, he knew he had to choose his words wisely and he was just relieved, that Joshua had decided to stay by his side, rising to his full height like a silent pillar of strength. Elwin knew, that he would have wanted to go with Murdoch and Clive, but he also knew that he was needed here - at his father's side.
"My friends, you all have seen the Eikon that beat back Bahamut and many of you have recognized it, as the one that appeared thirteen years ago at Phoenix Gate. You have seen it's Dominant and so what I ask of you is patience and understanding, while we try to find out how our beloved First Shield ended up in the hands of our enemy and how it could be, that he was chosen as a second Dominant of Fire. I know you have many questions, as do we, but we will have to wait for Clive to wake up to answer some of them. In the meantime I ask of you to hold our borders and this camp. Be vigilant, be careful and have an eye on our imperial friends, so they may not take us unawares. Thank you. May the Firebird's flame burn in your hearts."
Elwin nodded to one of his Captains and the man saluted, shouting orders to the men and the soldiers dispersed, going to their tasks. The tension in the air was thick, but there was nothing to be done about this. They knew too little and yet, he knew that rumors would soon make their way through the ranks. "Joshua, get me a stolas," Elwin said softly, when he turned around and made his way to the tent of his Lord Commander. "We need to inform Jill and Marleigh."
Joshua frowned. "Are you sure about this, father?" he asked, while he followed him through the camp. "It took Jill years to accept Clive's death and telling her now that he might be back without knowing if he is really going to be alright, sounds like a recipe for disaster."
"Jill is stronger than you think. She never accepted Clive's passing," Elwin replied with a shake of his head. "Remember that it was her, who insisted for years, that Clive was still alive. That she would have felt his death. She was right and we were wrong. She needs to know. And we need Marleigh to know, so she can unseal and prepare Clive's quarters. And Byron too I would assume. He would have my head, if I didn’t tell him."
Releasing a sigh, Joshua nodded. "I'll be back shortly," he said, before he turned towards another tent, while Elwin's own steps faltered in front of the entrance of the one, that belonged to his Lord Commander. His hesitation was snuffed out, when the physicker arrived and with him a young assistant with a bunch of towels and rags and a large bowl of clean water. Elwin stepped to the side and and the man passed him by with a nod and a bow and with a deep breath, the Archduke stepped into the tent as well.
They had brushed the thin blankets from Murdoch's cot and bedded him on it, most of the armor already removed and piled next to the bed. All Clive was wearing now, were his boots, pants and shirt, but all of it dirty, covered with stains of blood old and new, reeking of sweat, dirt, brimstone and fire. Elwin rounded the cot and went into a crouch next to Clive's head and now, that he was no longer awake, his features had relaxed and there was no denying anymore that behind that worn, battle-hardened and stone-faced imperial branded was their lost First Shield, the boy Elwin himself had sired and raised.
"Elwin," Rodney said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should leave. Let us take care of..."
"No," he replied vehemently, shaking his head. "I lost so much time already, and I need to know the truth. He's my son and I will not abandon him again."
The physicker looked back and forth between Elwin and the Lord Commander for only a moment, but then he nodded to the young boy, who had accompanied him and they released the chains between the two crystal fetters for a moment, to strip the unconscious man from his tunic, before shackling him again. But when the dirty fabric fell to the side, all of them held their breath for a moment, before it was the young assistant, who could no longer hold his words.
"Founder," he whispered in a shaking voice.
Bruises in various stages of healing were spread over Clive's chest, colors ranging from dark blue and black to fading yellow. A deeper scar that looked like the remains of a sword wound stood thick on the right side of his chest, while a smaller, finer scar marred his left arm. These were visible the most, but it was clear, that they weren't the only ones, and the physicker ground his teeth. "Turn him to the side, I need to see his back," he ordered and together with Murdoch, he rolled Clive over and on the shoulder.
For a moment, Elwin felt his world narrow and the breath got caught in his throat. He wanted to curse, wanted to scream, but all he could do, was reach out and take his son's cold hands into his own, trying to swallow down the hatred and rage that was rising inside him at the sight of Clive's back. The skin was a mess of crossing scars, layered over each other, some deep, some light, some angry welts, some no more than fine lines.
"These are all fully healed," the physicker growled. "Some of them normally, but the lighter ones have been treated with magic. I think if he hadn't been whipped continuously, these might have even faded entirely without scaring." The silence in the tent was deafening, but then the man braced himself and looked Elwin square in the eye and the old Archduke felt his stomach drop. "Your Grace, with your permission I would like to perform a full examination, but the man we are talking about is not a prized prisoner of war, but the Lord Marquess we all lost all these years ago and your beloved son. Maybe, for his benefit and your own, you should heed the Lord Commander's advice and wait outside."
Elwin felt his dropped stomach doing a backflip and he started to feel sick. The physicker didn't need to voice his suspicions out loud for him to catch his meaning. "You think he was..."
The physicker shook his head. "I don't know if he was," he clarified. "Only the Lord Marquess himself will be able to answer this question, but I have heard of some practices the nobles of Sanbreque are performing on their Bearers, to make sure their most dearest and beloved wives,” the sarcasm was dripping from the physickers words like a waterfall, well knowing that most marriages in the higher echelons of society were devoid of love, “are not tempted by a slave and I would like to make sure, he did not have to go through the same."
"Do it."
"Elwin..."
"Your Grace..."
Elwin tightened his hold around Clive's hands, before looking up, swallowing heavily. "I'm not repeating myself."
Nodding to his young apprentice, the physicker removed Clive's remaining clothes, until the was bare before them and the man heaved a sigh of relief. "Good, at least everything is still in it's right place," he said with a soft chuckle, before he checked over Clive's legs and then had his assistant help with the wiping down, until their unconscious charge was scrubbed clean and wrapped into the blankets they had placed on the side before. Clive had never even stirred and Elwin had never let go of his hands either, afraid that if he would, he would just vanish without a trace.
"What's your verdict?" he finally asked, brushing Clive's wet, dark hair from his forehead and Clive shuddered, before falling still again, his breathing evening out.
Sitting down on a small stool, the old physicker waited until his assistant had left. "Your Grace, you know that I treated your son already when he was still a child and I can say, that he has grown into a fine young man, who is in surprisingly good shape if we think about the circumstances. He is muscular, but considering his frame and size he is bordering to malnourishment and dehydration and I think this just adds to his current state. The priming did the rest and burned away whatever strength he had."
"What can we do?" Murdoch asked softly.
"Unfortunately very little at the frontlines. He needs rest and healthy food. Not the rations we have here. I'm afraid you will have to make a decision about him soon, for we can only help to keep him going, but not help him to recover." The physicker sighed. "I will let the cooks prepare something, but it will only be able to tie us over for some time."
He slipped out of the tent without another word and left Elwin and Murdoch to their thoughts, but Elwin knew unfortunately, what his old friend was thinking and he hated it with every fibre of his being. Rodney sighed and sat down on the stool the physicker had vacated, his eyes wandering over Clive's still form. "What are your orders?"
Safe from prying eyes for the first time since Clive had appeared on the battlefield, Elwin allowed his feelings to break through his iron hold and he could feel the tears spring into his eyes, spilling over his cheeks way too easily. "The hell, I wish I knew, Rodney," he choked, the words stuck in his throat. Discarding his leather gloves, he ran his fingers through Clive's hair soothingly and despite being unconscious, he released a shuddering sigh.
The silence was deafening, until Joshua slipped carefully into the tent, a stolas sitting on his arm. "How is he doing?" he asked softly, kneeling down next to the bed and Elwin could see, that he was about to reach out, the Phoenix' flames already under his hands - his own words from before forgotten at the sight of his brother, but Rodney stopped him with a shake of his head.
"Let him recover on his own," the Lord Commander said. "I hate saying it, but we don't know how much of the boy and the brother we once knew, is still left of him. Not to mention his Eikon. His weakness might be a way to keep him and us safe for the time being."
Joshua huffed, before he moved the stolas from his outstretched arm to his shoulder, to take the weight off it. "You don't think the Crystal Fetters are enough."
Elwin sighed softly, putting a calming hand onto his younger son's arm. "They help keeping the beast at bay, but despite his state, your brother is no weakling," he reminded him. "If he was, he would have never made it as an imperial Branded."
It was the Lord Murdoch who finally gave a voice to the fear Elwin was harboring deep inside. “It’s a matter of making sure, that Clive returned to us by his own free will and without any hidden agenda.” When Joshua looked at him with a burning fury in his eyes, Murdoch lifted his hands in defense. “I hate to say it, but you have to think about it, Joshua.” The use of his first name did shake him, like it always did, since nobody ever used it, aside from Murdoch, Jill and Elwin himself. “He had to serve the empire for thirteen years, went through some torture by the state of his back and at one point everyone can break. If they managed to do that, brainwashing him, bending him to their will, he might have been susceptible to their teachings, making him a wolf in a sheep’s fur, meant to calm us and fool us with a security that is not there, before striking. After all, I wouldn’t put it past your mother, to use her own son as a means to an end. We have to make sure, that his loyalties are still with Rosaria and with the Phoenix.”
Joshua nodded with a sigh. “I’ll understand,” he replied and his voice was suddenly so horribly tired.
Elwin couldn’t blame him. They all had dreaded, feared, but also anticipated the day, that the Empire would make another move, since they wouldn’t let the shame of Phoenix Gate stand like this and a part of Elwin was still wondering, how the realms had not screamed out in shock, when Sylvestre Lesage had first granted Anabella asylum, then had nullified her marriage to him in the name of Great Greagor, before marrying her himself. When the news had arrived of the birth of their son, Elwin had felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. How Clive must have felt in that moment? He didn’t want to think about. He didn’t want to think about a lot of things that had to do with his oldest son.
Yet, a decision had to be made and so Elwin told his younger son what the physicker had said, not surprised in the slightest when Joshua once again insisted on healing Clive himself, not that he was able to do more than healing his imminent exhaustion. They had to improve Clive’s overall health and then go from there, otherwise they were just building castles in the sand, only to be washed away with the next flood.
Looking at Clive, Elwin shook his head. “Clive has to return to Rosalith to recover, there is no denying that, but we can’t send him home alone or with an escort. He might have returned to our side now, but the past is a different matter and we can’t rule out a grudge in our own lines against him. Not to mention that traversing with a brand and an imperial uniform in Rosaria is setting him up for grabs.”
“You want one of us to return home with him?” Joshua clarified, not that clarification was really needed for either of them.
Elwin nodded with a sigh. “I could send him with Tyler and Wade, since I’m sure he trusts them and they trust him, but I want one of us close to him, to show him that we don’t abandon him. That he is still welcome here and that he still has a place with us.”
“That rules me out,” Murdoch remarked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not family.”
“You’re as good as an uncle than Uncle Byron is,” Joshua snorted, but then he grew somber, reaching out to Clive and just running his long fingers through his dark unruly hair. “I’ll stay here with Lord Murdoch and the troops. You should return home with him, father. If you stay and send us back, our troops could take it as a wrong sign, that you try to get your sons to safety, while they have to stay in the danger of the frontlines. If I stay, the Phoenix and their symbol for freedom and the duchy is still with them. They won’t feel abandoned.”
Chuckling softly, Elwin gave Joshua’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll make a fine Archduke, once you agree to take over the throne.”
Joshua shook his head, his eyes not swaying from his brother. “Clive would have been the better choice. For the Phoenix, for the duchy, but I guess all of this is wishful thinking. After all, the Phoenix didn’t ignore him but couldn’t choose him. He was never unworthy, just destined for a different Eikon.” Hands balled into fists, tears sprang into Joshua’s eyes, spilling over his cheek. “The way mother and the nobles treated him,” he hissed, the anger in his voice seething. “If he had awakened sooner…”
“They would have treated him just the same,” Murdoch said softly. “Yes, he is a Dominant, but he is not the Phoenix and with that, they still would have seen him as a failure or worse, a monstrosity and an anomaly. They were poisoned by your mother through and through and would have never changed their minds.”
Joshua’s reasoning was sound and logical, but Elwin knew deep down that his son had not only offered to stay behind for the sake of their people and their soldiers, but also for his sake. All three of them had a lot to talk about, a lot to figure out, but Joshua had known that Elwin needed more time with Clive… and maybe a father was another source of strength as a little brother.
“Thank you, Joshua,” Elwin said softly, voice choking with tears and Joshua just smiled softly, his eyes older and more understanding than a boy of his age should be. Someone had told him once, that looking into the eyes of a Dominant was looking into an old soul, but Elwin had never understood it, since his father had been wise from the moment his son could think. Then he had looked into Joshua's eyes after he had awoken from his long slumber and understood. Sometimes there was an endless age and wisdom into these green depth... and sometimes he was just Joshua, pushing the carrots around on his plate, looking at him as if he was five again, begging wordlessly that Elwin would just eat them of his plate.
"All I wish though, are a few minutes with Clive alone before you two head off," Joshua said softly. "There are things I have to ask him and things I have to tell him."
"Of course," Elwin replied, once again squeezing his shoulder. "You and your brother will have all the time you need, but it has been a long day and I have not forgotten, that you stayed primed for quite a while. Give me the stolas, then head to your tent and get some rest. Rodney and I will take it from here."
"I'd like to stay."
"I know you do, but you really need some food and a good nights sleep," Elwin chuckled, before he reached out to the stolas, letting it hop onto his arm. For a moment he just stared at the bird, which crooked it's head from one side to the other, before stretching it's wings and puffing it's feathers. Who would he send the stolas too and what would he say?
Shaking his head, he lifted his hand above the crystal in the owls forehead and closed his eyes, the words leaving his lips in a soft whisper. "O mia lost elan, tu isag elythe."
Notes:
I tend to cut my chapters when they feel right so be prepared for maybe some long ones and some short ones… and maybe some cliffhangers?
Most of the story will be from Clive’s POV, but I will have some very rare switches to other characters for the overall arch and for explanations.
Next chapter should be up on Tuesday!
Chapter Text
Clive felt warm, warmer than he had been in a long time. But he also felt cold, the chill seeping through his soul and his insides, and despite everything, he couldn't keep his body from trembling with the sensation. Unconsciously Clive reached out to the Phoenix, trying to use the Blessing to ease the freezing feeling, but there was nothing and he woke with a start, a shiver running down his spine. His eyes flew open and he threw himself to the side, brought his hands underneath his body to push himself up and to make battle ready, but the movement stopped the moment his arms gave in, unable to push his weight up any further.
Staring at the angry flashing crystals in the fetters Clive realized, why he was feeling so cold inside - his connection to the aether severed and disrupted, the Blessing and Ifrit unreachable, no matter how hard he tried. Trying to keep his panic at bay, Clive took stock of the tent he was in, his armor next to the cot, his clothes... were washed and clean, the smell of the soap still clinging to the fabric and to himself. No, he was definitely no longer in imperial hands. He knew that he had walked towards the rosarian lines, had walked towards home, but then his legs had given in and he had fallen. After that things had lost color and then only darkness.
The Empire would have never washed his cloth and given him a bath, nor would they have him sleep on a cot, bundled with blankets to keep him warm, the hands bound in front and not on the back. They would have thrown him to the side in the dirt as a monstrosity, bound and pushed towards their enemies, so Bahamut wouldn't have to take flight.
No, this was not Sanbreque - this was Rosaria.
Taking a deep breath, Clive calmed his racing heart before doing another try to push himself off the cot and this time his body obeyed, allowing him to sit up, his joints cracking painfully. How long had he slept? The light outside of the tent was reddish and dimming, so it had to be sunset, but with how stiff his body felt, it couldn't have been the same day he had primed. Pulling his legs from underneath the blankets, Clive threw them over the side of the cot, before reaching for his boots. He could put those on which his hands in shackles, but the rest of the armor he would have to leave. Not that he minded. He was willing to give them the freedom to use every measure they thought was necessary, even though he despised the crystal fetters. It was the first time he had to wear any and it was a horrible feeling.
Rolling his shoulders, Clive gave himself another moment. That there was no guard inside the tent was something that surprised him greatly, but maybe they considered the fetters enough. Looking to the side, he found a pitcher with water and a mug and his tongue felt like a stone in his mouth, while he himself was parched. Priming was definitely not something he would do on a daily basis - especially not since it hastened the curse.
With another deep breath, Clive pushed himself off the bed, only for his knees doing the same as his elbows before, refusing to carry his weight. Landing back on the cot, he cursed softy underneath his breath, before trying again and this time he was able to stay up, only for his head to start swimming and sending him back down. "Fuck," he growled, the moment the cloth at the entrance to the tent was pushed aside.
"Well, that was not the greeting I had imagined, but I'm glad to see you at least sitting," a voice remarked, and Clive didn't even want to turn his head to the side, still afraid it was all a dream. He shut his eyes, trying to hold back the tears that began to burn underneath the lids, threatened to spill over his cheeks. Swallowing down the fear, Clive looked to the entrance and the tears were now running freely, dripping from his chin to his bound hands.
His father had barely changed. His black hair and beard had turned grey, the wrinkles on his face had deepened, but his eyes were still the same - that unique green that Clive had never seen somewhere else, sparkling and teeming still with life. Pushing himself off the cot for real now, Clive did sway on his feet but he stood. For a moment, his father seemed smaller, less impressive in size, but the fact that they had missed thirteen years... Clive had grown up from a teenager to a man himself.
"Father?" Clive asked softly, his voice nothing more but a hoarse whisper. A whisper of hope, but his words trembled. Should he have called his father by his title? "Forgive me," he breathed, lowering his eyes and bowing. "Forgive me, Your Grace. For all I've done."
But Elwin didn't reply, just shook his head and a moment later Clive found himself wrapped into the arms of his father, the embrace so tight that he thought for a moment that is spine would break. He wanted to return it, wanted to hold onto his father with all the despair he felt, never wanted him to let go again, but with his hands bound, all he could do was burying his face in the high collar of his fathers coat, muffling his sobs, soaking the heavy red fabric with his tears.
"What do you want me to forgive?" Elwin whispered, his own words choking and hitching. "There has never been anything that needed forgiving. Nothing you have done would need me to forgive you." A drawn out silence and Clive could feel his fathers chest expand against his own with a deep breath. "It is I, who has to ask for your forgiveness."
Clive wanted to ask, the question on his tongue, but Elwin released him out of his embrace and framed his face with his hands, the gloves warm against his cheeks. Why was his father trembling like this? "Jill never believed in your death," Elwin said softly, his eyes searching Clive's and holding them. "She insisted that you were still alive, but when we couldn't find any trace of you at Phoenix Gate, we considered you lost and thought that it was just her grief speaking." Elwin shook his head. "I have to apologize to her and to you. I should have listened to her word and looked for you."
Clive closed his eyes, trying to steady his voice, feeling the words shake in the back of his throat. He wanted to ask about Jill, but he couldn't keep his thoughts in a line. "You wouldn't have found me," he said tiredly after another moment, before he fell back onto the cot, no longer able to hold himself up. He was so exhausted. "A few days after I Phoenix Gate I was branded and the next thing I remember halfway clearly again after the fever dreams had stopped, was standing at a frontline with a dull, and rusty sword, trying to survive the incoming hoards. I’m not even sure where that had been, and whom I was fighting. Even if you had tried, you couldn't have found me, cause no one remembers the name of a Branded, if they even have one or where that Branded comes from. If you are lucky, you survive long enough for someone else to give you a new one and maybe it will actually be a name and not an insult."
"I should have tried at least," Elwin replied. "I should have made sure."
Keeping his eyes closed for another moment, Clive sighed. "What's done is done," he said softly, when the roof of the tent came back into view. "We can't turn back time."
"The regret will never pass though," his Father said with a shake of his head. "You might be the First Shield of Rosaria, but you are still my son first and foremost and I should have protected you."
Clive frowned. "The First Shield?" he asked surprised. "Joshua..."
"He refused to take another after Phoenix Gate." Turning to the small table on the side, Elwin filled the mug with water from the pitcher before he carefully placed it in Clive's hands, encouraging him to drink. "He said it wasn't right. Said there would be no other shield for him than you. Wade and Tyler protected him since then."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Clive sagged into himself for a moment, clutching the mug tightly in his hands. "They survived then. I didn't kill them. I didn't kill you or Joshua." Tears springing up again, Clive tried to suppress the sobs and tremors that wrecked his body, but he was no longer in control, his heart heavy and yet light again.
Sitting down next to him, his father nodded to the mug. “Take a sip and tell me what happened at Phoenix Gate.” His voice was encouraging, but his eyes were worried and Clive saw the fear in them. Did he fear him? Maybe he should, for his son was destruction and inferno incarnate.
Drowning half the mug, Clive wondered for a moment where to start, but then he just began to talk, hoping that he would not fall over his own words, now that he told his story for the very first time. So long he had guarded everything deep in his heart, never opening to someone else. Not that there had ever been someone worthy of his trust. “I got separated from the Lord Commander shortly after taking out the Dragoon. A part of the wall came down and I was on the wrong side, so I told him to go and find you, while I would circle around, but then Joshua primed.”
Clive shook his head, his fingers wrapped tightly around the cold metal, that had begun to warm up underneath his hands. “I tried to get to him, but he was on the other side of the wall. I knew that he had lost control then and I feared the worst for you and in the midst of that fear, I primed and Ifrit went out of control.” Gulping down the remaining water, he put the goblet to the side, threading his fingers through each other to calm himself down. “I thought I was only a viewer and saw Ifrit tear through the Phoenix as if it was nothing. I screamed at him to stop, but it wasn’t until the Phoenix was at my feet, drenched and suffocating on his own blood, that I realized, that I was the monster. That I had done this to Joshua. I lost consciousness after that.”
The eyes of his father widened in fear. “Where did you come to again?” he asked, his voice hitching.
Frowning Clive tried to read him, but in the end, decided to give him the answer before asking what was wrong. Something had shaken his father to the core. “Somewhere in the ruins of the castle the next morning,” Clive replied slowly. “At least I think it was the next morning. Why?”
“By the Founder… we left you there under the rubble,” Elwin choked, his eyes glassy and tears staining his cheeks. “After both Eikons had disappeared, Rodney and I tried to find you, your brother, anyone still alive, but the Undying, who had been stationed outside of the keep told us, that more imperials were moving in and we had to leave. They said, they had seen where the Phoenix had gone down and for sure a bit later they returned with your brother. He was badly injured and they told me, that he would die if he didn’t get to a healer. I asked them if they had seen you, but they declined.” A hoarse, barking laugh fell from the old Archduke’s lips. “I’m sure they never even looked for you.” More tears were running freely now. “I left you behind… my own son.”
Clive shrugged, unable to do anything else. “You didn’t know,” he repeated, still to exhausted to think further.
“Not knowing doesn’t absolve me of the guilt,” Elwin sighed, eyes red and glassy. “What happened after?”
“The imperials arrived and mother handed me over to them, and told them that I would make a fine addition to the imperial frontlines. I was branded a few days after. I’m not sure,” Clive admitted. “Time lost all meaning after Phoenix Gate and somehow I grew up and became an imperial assassin… a butcher in the name of Great Greagor.” Clive spat the last sentence out with a venom and disgust, that didn’t even measure how he really felt about these thirteen years. One lifetime would not be enough to atone for all he had done.
Elwin took a shaking breath. “I shouldn’t be surprised that your mother would sell you out to the enemy,” he growled. “After all she betrayed us and stabbed us all in the back. That Joshua and I made it out alive was nothing more but dumb luck. But that she was heartless enough to get you branded… I’m sorry, son. I know that words can never make up for the years you lost and the pain you had to endure, but for what it’s worth…”
Clive shook his head. “I nearly killed Joshua and everyone else in the Keep,” he whispered. “I am the one, who has to ask for forgiveness.”
But his father did not reply, instead pulled him into another bone rushing hug, pressing Clive’s face into the crook of his neck and Clive allowed himself to be held and comforted. Allowed his father to protect him, as if he was still that five year old boy, that had been scared by a shadow at night… A boy, who had never made it out of Phoenix Gate, but if Clive had to be honest, the boy had never made it out of the infirmary the night his brother had been born.
For a while, they just stayed like this, before Clive carefully pulled back, immediately missing the contact and his father’s comforting warmth. “What’s going to happen with me now?”
Elwin frowned, but then he shook his head and took Clive's hands in his. "You are not a prisoner, son. You will not wear these shackles forever, I promise you that," he said, his voice not wavering and Clive wanted to believe him. "The shields and those civilians we have along, don't know what to make of you just yet. It was too much for all of them. This is not your fault, for you have acted as a First Shield should. You rose and protected the Phoenix."
"But I'm also the eikon... the monster that destroyed Phoenix Gate and that took so many lives that night and with it, I destroyed so many more," Clive whispered. He felt so horribly exhausted, but in the end he sighed, because what else could he do. "If it eases your worry, Your Grace, then leave me in crystal fetters until you feel necessary, but please don't let it be too long. Being cut from the aether and from Ifrit is... unsettling. Despite what happened, he is a part of me and it feels like losing a limb. And being cut from the Phoenix…”
He stopped himself, the words dying on his lips. He was getting too far with it, spoke too much, but when he looked into these dark green eyes, he was a boy again, no longer fearing anything, because his father was there; his father would protect him. “The Phoenix was the only thing that kept me going after I had realized that you and Joshua were still alive..."
"And before?" It was clear in his father's eyes, that he didn't want to ask, was afraid of the question, but he had to make sure, as the Archduke and more important - as his father.
With a sigh, Clive released his breath in a long huff. No need to sugarcoat it, and he was just tired. "I tried to end it. More than once; in more than one way, but my Sergeant and the other members of my unit never let me, saving and healing me, whenever I tried to cut my wrists or slit my throat or do something else along those lines."
Before another word could tumble over his lips, he found himself in another embrace, this time so tight that he felt bones shift and his back pop. "I'm glad they kept you from it," Elwin whispered. "I can't bear the thought of losing you twice. At Phoenix Gate and then later, dying alone and discarded... no." He vehemently shook his head. "I will not pretend to know the horrors, the deprivations, the atrocity and the pain you had to bear in these long years, but I'm glad that you held on. You came back to us."
With a sigh, Clive just let himself fall into his father's arms once again, wondering why he even had pulled away before. It was so much safer there. The world could not reach him, because his father would protect him. The warmth made him drowsy and he hooked his chin over Elwin's shoulder, before closing his eyes. He was no longer alone and maybe he was finally allowed to fall, finally allowed to let go. Even if it was just for a few minutes...
Elwin didn't know, how long he held Clive in his arms, before his breathing began to even out, his body slackened and would have slipped away, if he hadn't kept him in place. He dared not to move out of fear to wake Clive again, now that he was sleeping peacefully and Elwin didn't even want to. He wanted to give his son as much time to rest as he could, especially since the ride back home to Rosalith would not be less taxing. But he needed to bring him home, because he would never be able to heal and recuperate here in the wilds and with the empire at their doorstep. He needed to get some distance, he had to learn again what it meant to be a free man and he couldn’t do that, when he was bound to a chain of command. Bound to his brother.
Back in the castle he would be able to move and go where he wanted to, would be the Lord Marquess again and not some nameless Bearer that everyone could spit on. Although Elwin had to admit that he hadn’t thought that much further yet. How would they address Clive’s brand? How would they make sure, that people were well aware of his identity and wouldn’t mistake him for a Branded without his master, free to abuse, molest and disgrace.
Sighing softly, Elwin placed Clive back on the cot, running his fingers soothingly through his dark hair, when he began to whisper in his sleep, eyes racing underneath the lids, calling names Elwin didn't recognize. His heart broke, when he heard him beg and plead, and he decided to shake him awake, when Clive started to throw himself from one side to the other, but then the trashing stopped and his breathing evened out again.
"What have they done to you?" he whispered softly, now realizing that Clive's skin underneath his fingers was warm to the touch. Elwin knew, that he shouldn't dwell on the thought; that there was nothing he could do to change the past. He barely turned around, when he heard the flaps of the tent shuffle behind him, Joshua's steps light as a feather but still audible even over the muffled sounds of the camp. Elwin knew, that the mood in the camp was tense, and not only because the empire had not withdrawn from their borders yet.
Joshua was balancing two steaming bowls in his hands and Elwin could smell the stew even from that distance, making his stomach growl like a Behemoth. He hadn't eaten since Rodney had forced something on him in the morning and even though he had wanted to stay with Clive, he had given into Joshua's reasoning and traded places with him to talk to the generals, the scouts and to get updated on the situation.
"How is he?" Joshua asked softly, his red robes not so unlike to Elwin's own, but on somedays it looked as they were still to big for him, even though the seamstress had made them for the boy. He handed one bowl to Elwin and sat down on another small stool.
Elwin sighed, taking one of the spoons that Joshua had stuffed into the pocket of his coat. "He was awake for a bit and we spoke, but there is much that still needs to be discussed. I assume the second bowl would be for him?"
Joshua nodded. “The physicker said he has to eat and also said to try and wake him for it.” He kept the bowl in his hand, scrutinizing his brother with a frown, before shaking his head. “The scouts returned as well. They say the empire has pulled out of Rosaria completely and retreated to the main encampment, a few miles inside of their own borders, but without any further movement of troops. Why did the empire advance on us in the first place?” Joshua asked. “We don’t even have a Mothercrystal of our own, since we never made a move against the Iron Kingdom after the catastrophe at Phoenix Gate.”
“Who knows what your mother whispered into Sylvestre’s ear,” Elwin growled into his spoon of soup.
“As much as I would like to say, that it was Mother alone,” a soft voice added. “I think you can place some blame on Lesage as well.”
“Clive! You’re awake!” Before Elwin could even say something, Joshua had shoved the second bowl into his hands and wrapped his brother into a tight embrace, without even letting him get up from the cot. But Clive tried to make the best of it, hands still bound and now immobilized between their bodies, and so he hooked his chin over his brother’s shoulder to hold him there.
Joshua pulled Clive up with him, clinging to him like he had done when they were still children and with a sigh, Elwin put the two bowls to the side, before he carefully tugged on the crystal fetters and with a swift movement, he unhooked the chain from it’s fastening and the second Clive had his hands free, he returned the embrace of his brother, fingers digging into Joshua’s back hard enough to drive the blood from his tips.
“I’m sorry, Joshua,” Clive whispered, voice filled with a desperation that had been missing, when he had woken up the first time with only Elwin at his side. “I’m so sorry.”
But Joshua just shook his head, before he pulled back and then brought their foreheads together, gloved hands behind Clive’s ears and in his dark hair. “You’re alive,” he breathed, not caring about the tears spilling from his eyes and those he wiped away from his brother’s cheek. “We both are. Nothing else matters. I don’t care what happened at Phoenix Gate, I don’t care what happened yesterday. You’re home.”
Could it really be that easy, Clive wondered, his fingers clawing into Joshua’s back, holding him with a desperation he hadn’t felt since he had tried and failed to reach his little brother on the other side of that wall at Phoenix Gate. Could forgiveness really be granted this easily, without a second thought and without even on moment of doubt?
“Forgive me, Joshua,” Clive breathed. “Instead of protecting you, I tore you apart with my own hands.”
Joshua shook his head, not allowing Clive to avoid his piercing gaze. When had the boy, who had clung to his legs and stumbled over the courtyard behind him grown up so much? When had he lost all his strength in turn and become so weak, that he needed to be protected? “What happened all these years ago was out of your control and out of mine,” he replied with a conviction that Clive didn’t know where he took it from. Did he really believe so strongly in him, while Clive was doubting himself?
“We’ll tell you our side of the events, once you had something to eat and did stretch your legs,” Joshua replied, grabbing the bowl, that their father had put to the side to protect the contents from being accidentally being spilled and shoved it into Clive’s hands, before pulling a second spoon from his coat. “And after that, you’ll take a walk around the camp with me. Physicker said you need some fresh air and exercise to avoid your joints and muscles getting stiff. Besides, there are at least two people, who would like to greet you.”
Dread and apprehension began to fill Clive’s stomach and his stomach turned, the soup that had been so inviting a moment before suddenly making him sick after only one spoon. Setting the bowl down, he took a deep breath.
Elwin sighed and shot Joshua a disapproving look, before he nudged Clive’s shoulder. “You need to eat, son,” he said softly.
“How many have lost family and friends because of me?” Clive asked softly. “Because I couldn’t control Ifrit.”
“Ifrit’s flames weren’t the only flames that brought destruction over the castle that day,” Joshua sighed, picking up the bowl again and putting it into Clive’s hands. “I’m at fault there just as you are and trust me, many of them will understand and won’t hold a grudge against you. They never did it for me.”
Clive snorted, but then picked up the spoon again, well knowing that neither Joshua nor his father would leave, until he had eaten and cleaned out the bowl. “You are the Phoenix, Joshua. The people worship and admire you. I’m an unknown Eikon without history.”
“Then go out there and show them, that despite that, you are still the same man you’ve ever been. Fine as our father ever was,” Joshua replied mit an encouraging smile.
Elwin frowned. “You’re laying it on a little bit thick here, Joshua,” he remarked.
For a moment, Clive just looked back and forth between the two, then he sighed. “All right, I yield,” he said, taking another spoonful of the soup, while his father picked up his own bowl again. “I guess I’m just not used to being treated like this anymore. Treated like a person; like myself. Being actually heard and seen. I had forgotten what it means to be human.”
They finished their dinner in silence after that, Elwin and Joshua obviously at a loss for words, while Clive just tried to eat and tried to remember, who the boy had been, his brother had spoken about. How much of Clive Rosfield had survived the long years and now much of Clive had been replaced by Wyvern. He couldn’t say. Was there even a real distinction between the two of them? Clive had thought at first, that the boy had hidden behind Wyvern, had slept away the years of cruelty, but he wasn't so sure about it anymore. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, before he placed the empty dish on the small table at the end of the cot and when he nodded, he allowed his father to pull him up. For a moment he felt lightheaded, his knees about to give in, but grinding his teeth he held onto the helping hand and could finally steady himself.
The cold air of the sunset was a slap in the face for Clive, not even registering how cold it was outside when the inside of the tent had been so comfortably warm, even without the blankets. But it also did something good, since it shook Clive’s senses awake, sharpening them to what was going around him and it cleared his mind. For a moment his self doubts were washed away, while he took a look around, inhaling everything like a starved man needed food.
Clive had spent more time in military camps in the last years than anywhere else and something already felt different, when he dared to follow his father, his brother at his side. He had barely been in the center of these camps. No matter where he had been stationed and where they had sent him, Bearers were never allowed inside the main encampment, the units usually ordered to stay somewhere outside, unprotected from the weather and the elements.
Smaller fires and braziers had been lit between the rows of tents, illuminating them against the darkening sky. Soldiers greeted and saluted his father and Joshua, and Clive could feel the curious eyes on him, could see the raised eyebrows and hear the hushed whispers behind their backs, once they had passed. The range of emotion was definitely a wide one, from shocked to baffled, unbelieving, and sometimes compassionate to disgust and even hatred. Clive tried to push the last to the side.
In Sanbreque it had become routine to ignore the looks after a while and Clive hadn’t bothered about them. But this here was different. Oh, he had been used to the looks of the nobles when he had been a child, the firstborn who had been unworthy of the Phoenix, a mere man in the lines of Dominants. His mother had made sure that the highest echelons of the Rosarian society shared her views and her opinions. He had been liked by the small people and the shields, but it seemed even that had changed.
Clive didn't know what he had expected, but maybe deep down he had hoped that he was welcomed... because Rosaria was home. But now he wondered, if there actually was a place in the whole of the Twins that he could call home anymore.
Whatever musings he had at this point, was interrupted when he heard an incoming shout that sounded something like "Watch out!", but at that moment it was already too late. A huge mass of blurry grey, white and brown was flying towards him and before Clive could even react in one way or another, that something crashed into him and he was thrown onto his back, without anything to break his fall. The grass was barely making a difference either, when Clive's back collided with the ground, driving all the air from his lungs.
For a moment he was dazed, but then his instincts kicked in and he tried to get up and get whatever had crashed into him off his chest, only to realize that a wet tongue was everywhere in his face, his ears, a cold nose somewhere on his neck and if it wasn't for the massive weight that thing had, Clive would have laughed instead of wheezing for air.
"Torgal! Founder, damn it! Get off him, you overgrown puppy!" Elwin ordered and Clive perked up, finally opening his eyes after the impact on the ground.
Yellow eyes were staring at him expectantly, a long pink tongue lolling from a muzzle with sharp teeth, pointy ears standing upright and all covered by a long, fluffy fur that felt softer than Clive had imagined. “Torgal?” Clive echoed carefully, not wanting to believe, not wanting to hope that the little puppy had made it out of Phoenix Gate. He had been so young back then, so small and tiny. But the hound barked and yipped, before shoving his tongue back into his face, making Clive sputter in between bouts of laughing that were actually a mix between laughing and crying in relief. Maybe Clive hadn’t lost as much as he had originally though.
Sitting up, Clive buried his face in the hounds thick neck, his fingers clawing into his fur and he allowed it to hide his tears, while Torgal softly whined and barked into his ear, still ruffling through his hair with his snout, licking whatever piece of Clive he could reach in that position. “Look what a fine hound you have grown into,” he huffed into the hound’s fur, scratching him affectionately and Torgal wiggled free of his grasp, dancing and yipping around him, tail going so fast that it was nearly a blur.
"I wish Torgal would behave like this when I come home," Joshua remarked. "Not even Jill get's that sort of reaction."
Still sitting on his rear in the grass, hands buried in the dogs thick fur, Clive looked up, his eyes wide. He had been too overwhelmed before, but now he just had to know. "Jill?" he asked softly, now petting Torgal more for his own benefit to keep himself calm and grounded. "Is she doing well?"
Elwin smiled, before he extended his hand and Clive took it, letting himself get pulled from the ground, while Torgal was still dancing around them, butting Clive with his wet nose, sniffing up and down his frame, eyes sparkling. "More than well, I'd say," the Archduke chuckled, brushing some of the grass from Clive's back and though it made him feel like a child again, it was oddly comforting. "She's the head of the family in our absence." Hesitating at first, Elwin took a deep breath. "After we lost you, we decided to not only make her a ward of the duchy, but the heiress, should anything happen to Joshua or myself. And she made it her duty through and through."
Clive wondered for a moment about the words and the expression in his father's face. It had been an odd combination out of pride, love and joy, but filled with a certain wistfulness, sorrow and grief. He couldn't dwell on it, when his father continued not only with his story, but also with their little walk around the camp. "The nobles were of course against the idea, many wanting to bring in their own children into the mix with the reasoning, that they held more of the ducal blood than Jill ever could. That they had more of the Rosfield-line and could carry the legacy of the Phoenix better."
"Some even suggested a marriage between Jill and myself, when we refused all proposals," Joshua snorted.
“You’re not amenable to the idea?” Clive asked carefully.
Joshua shook his head. “I could never marry Jill,” he replied softly. “It would not be fair to force her into a marriage she doesn’t want.”
Clive tried to hide the relief at his brother’s words as good as possible, holding himself straight and upright. He knew full well, that he shouldn't hope, but a small part of him, the young Shield from then still remembered these soft feelings upon seeing the girl, these innocent dreams of the youth, which he realized now never went away and never really left him. Without noticing it, the memories of Jill had kept him alive, a little light in the long dark of the last years. But was he even allowed to hope for more? It felt wrong to do so, especially since fate had given him the grace and returned him home.
"Clive," Elwin asked softly, the worry clear in his words. "Are you all right?"
Clearing his head with a sigh, Clive rubbed his hands over his face, before running them through his unruly hair, brushing it back for a moment, knowing it would never stay there. "It's a lot to take in," he said after a while, trying to push his original thought away. Everything was too much and Clive didn't know, who he was anymore and what he was. "I still feel, as if I am walking through a dream. Afraid that in the next moment, I'm waking up, only to find myself on the ground in a makeshift camp or the cold floor of a shed, smelling of blood, death and destruction."
Brushing his hand over Clive's back, Joshua shook his head. "Never again," he promised, his voice low but definite, his eyes burning in anger. "I will never let you go back to something like this ever again."
"Let's hope so," Clive replied softly, the brand on his cheek flaring up again, as if it was freshly engraved into his skin and he had to keep himself from brushing over it with the tips of his fingers. He couldn't show this weakness.
They had nearly made it to the other end of the camp, when a man stepped up to them, the uniform different to that of the normal shields. A higher ranking member of the rosarian forces, that much was clear and Clive realized, that the armors of the duchy had not changed a bit in the last decade and why should they? Rosaria had always been a land of tradition.
"Your Grace, one of our messengers returned with information," the man explained, unabashedly frowning at Clive's presence.
Elwin nodded to the man. "Very well, we'll be in the war tent shortly," he replied, but he stopped his steps, when he realized that Clive had not moved unlike Joshua and the Lord Commander.
"I shouldn't... ," Clive started, but his father just put a hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, you should," Elwin replied vehemently. "You are my son and you might have insights into the empire that we lack, no matter if you have been a branded soldier or not. You didn’t choose to become a slave and a prisoner, it’s a burden that was foisted on you. Come along now."
Clive couldn't shake off his skepticism and his own wariness about his father's decision, but who was he to speak up against it. He, who no longer had a place in Rosaria anyways. In the end, he was nothing but an imperial deserter. He followed them through the camp to one of the biggest tents in the center, additional shields posted around it, even though the Archduke was not in it. They allowed them to pass and soon Clive found himself inside, flanked on either side by the Lord Commander and his brother.
The center of the tent was a massive table of wood, with maps folded and rolled, figures made of metal and wood that were used to mark positions strewn carelessly over the top. Braziers lit up the inside and warmed the tent at the same time and Clive let himself be guided to the table to stand beside his father, while other high ranking soldiers of the shields were trickling into the tent, most of them looking at Clive with curiosity, but also suspicion. Some of them clearly had some choice words on their tongue, but the presence of the Archduke silenced them.
The last person to enter the tend was a shield, no older than Joshua, who had obviously hastened back to the camp, if the state of his clothes was any indication. He bowed before the Archduke and the Lord Commander, who nodded. "Speak, young man," Murdoch ordered. "What can you tell us?"
"Yes, Mylord," he replied with a nod and Murdoch rolled out one of the maps over the surface of the table. "The imperials have begun moving their forces further away from our borders, but from what we could see, there also seems to be unrest among the soldiers. Smaller detachments have been send out in our direction but withdrawn again, after a short while." The soldier's gloved fingers signing to some points on the map.
One of the older men shook his head. "Why would they do that? Pull back and then venture forward again? This is not logical."
“No, their actions do actually make sense. I would assume that the withdrawal was upon the Prince’s orders, but they didn’t completely pull away from our borders,” Clive explained, his thoughts moving and moving, his tongue faster than his common sense. Looking up at the Lord Commander and his father, he waited for a moment, but when the Archduke nodded, he was running a finger along a line on the map they had spread out on the table. “It’s all he can do without invoking the wrath of the emperor. But the fact that they haven’t withdrawn completely means that they still try something and if I had to assume, they will try a precision cut that does the biggest damage to Rosaria at this point.”
“Speak plainly, boy.”
A long moment of silence followed, but before Clive could react, Murdoch leaned forward on the table, fixing the man with his stare.
“General Whitley, you might want to remind yourself, that you are addressing the Lord Marquess at this table and not some foot soldier or a Branded,” the Lord Commander snarled and the silence that followed was even more deafening than the one before.
Clive sighed. “It’s all right, Lord Murdoch I haven’t served Rosaria for a long time and it will take time to earn my place in the ranks again,” he chuckled humorlessly. “But to speak plainly, as the General wishes…” Straightening his back, Clive got up from the table to his full height, dwarfing most of the people on the table not by much, but enough, only his father, his brother and the Lord Commander a match to his height. “If the empire hasn’t executed the remaining members of the unit I deserted from, they have three highly trained branded assassins at hand, who are able to infiltrate this camp without leaving a trace, killing who they are ordered to and disappearing in the dark of the night. The only proof for their presence will be a corpse.”
“No one is that good.”
Clive looked at the man and this time he didn’t turn away, held the gaze until it was the general you flinched. “We are. I’ve been the Empire’s poisoned blade since I was fifteen. Thirteen years as a unit are a long enough time to perfect your profession. Thirteen years in which I slept in filth, drank from the gutter, and killed more men than I can count." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Clive made a step back, the crystal fetters flashing, when he rolled his neck to the side. "The most likely targets are the Phoenix, the Archduke and the Lord Commander, maybe myself but that more for revenge than duty. If they take one Dominant out, they can even the odds for Bahamut again, and if they manage to take both out, they can flatten this camp without losses on their own side. We've done it before with high ranking officials of the Waloeder forces at the Strait of Autha."
The generals began talking to each other in hushed words, but Clive just took a deep breath, before rolling his shoulders underneath his well worn tunic. A single cry of a bird whispered through the air, followed by another one and a third, and Clive frowned, when the call returned again, this time from a slightly different position than the first time.
"What's wrong?" Joshua whispered and Clive turned to him. He hadn't even noticed, that his brother had kept his eyes on him, had observed his every action.
"Do you hear the birds?" Clive asked, not even answering Joshua's question.
Lifting his head, Joshua strained to listen over the voices and when his head came up, Clive knew that he heard them too. "What about them?" he asked.
Frowning, Clive still tried to listen to the sounds of the birds, while looking at his brother, realizing Elwin and Lord Murdoch had turned to them as well, ignoring their discussing generals. "It's night by now and all we should hear are silence or owls, but not a jackdaw and definitely not a jackdaw that is originating from Dhalmekia and that would freeze it's tail feathers off this far up north. These are signal calls - the Bastard's signal calls," Clive hissed and he turned around, trying to concentrate even more now, trying to guess the distance of the whistles.
Three calls in a row, closer now. Way too close. A fourth call, a different bird. A Kanvarian eagle.
"Fuck," Clive cursed, throwing himself around, before storming out of the tent, desperately trying to listen for the next signal and from where it came. He heard the commotion, before I saw it. The clinking of armor, the shuffling of boots, the sounds of voices being muffled behind leather, before silenced forever. Clive reached out to the aether, but he hissed when the crystal fetters cut him off painfully. He hadn't tried to draw on his magic since the had awoken in the camp the first time and now that he needed it, to feel for the other three in the aether, he was blind and deaf. His normal senses would have to do.
Steel was flashing in the light of the braziers and using the Crystal Fetters as vambrace, Clive caught the blade of the imperial on one and pushed it to the side, before grabbing the man on the other arm, pulling him in, turning in the same motion. Holding the man steady, it was an easy for Clive to grab his head and rip it to one side. Bones broke underneath his hands and the man fell limb, but Clive didn't care, catching the man's sword in the fall. At least he wasn't completely barehanded now.
Turning to the next, he tried to look around while blocking the incoming blade. Creating a diversion and then strike from the back. If the soldiers were the diversion or at least a part of it, where were the Bastards? Forcing the sword of the imperial to the side, he kicked the man back with a boot in his stomach. A flash of red, where his father and his brother had left the tent and then a flash of steel and a flickering of blue fire, flames being pulled along a blade. Enruin. Tiamat.
Clive cursed as another soldier closed in on him, but he was out of time. Turning the blade in his hand, he threw it towards the imperial, not caring if it really hit and spun around, forcing his body forward as fast as he could and never before had he wished so much to feel Ifrit's fire underneath his fingertips. Ifrit's inferno and the Phoenix's flames.
He recognized Tiamat in the shadows without any doubt, the blade flickering blue and he knew that he would spring forward in a moment, the sword striking either his father or his brother. But Clive couldn't fail. Not now and not again and so he pushed and in the very moment, Tiamat jumped forward - sword ready - Clive felt his body collide with the armor of his former sergeant, sending them both tumbling to the side and sliding through the mud.
Using the momentum to his own advantage, Clive dug his hands into the dirt, changing direction, before he jumped back onto his feet, rising himself in defense in front of his father and brother, not caring that he no longer held a sword in his hands. For a moment time seemed to slow, until the recognition crept into Tiamat's eyes, while Clive had now picked out Aevis and Biast nearing from the two sides, swords drawn and aether swirling around their hands, ready to cast their spells.
Clenching his hands into fists, Clive growled, but then he felt a hand on his shoulder and a sword was pressed into his hand. The grip was unfamiliar but warm, the sword heavy but well balanced and looking down, Clive realized that it was the blade of his father and it was him who had given him the means to attack. Clive wanted to object, wanted to give the sword back, telling his father that he wasn't worth it, but Elwin just grinned, before he held his hand out and a young shield threw a normal sword his way.
Clive took a deep breath, then straightened his stance, turning the sword in his hands, before driving it into the ground before him. "On this my sword I swear," he growled underneath his breath, before holding Tiamat's piercing gaze. "To shield the Firebird's flame forevermore!"
He would not back down. Not now, not ever.
In the next second, everything seemed to happen at the same time and Joshua barely had a chance to react. Clive attacked the branded soldier right in front of him, not caring that he wore no armor and protection, while Lord Murdoch and his father had moved to one side, now locked into battle with another one of the branded, that had advanced on them. Joshua looked to the side, the other soldier now coming at him and he barely had time to draw his own sword, before their steel clashed and Joshua was driven back a few steps, boots slipping in the mud.
"By the flames," he cursed under his breath. He had definitely not expected that brute force behind the attack and he couldn't help but wonder, if all of this was personal. Clive had said, that they would send his old unit after them and by the way the soldier that he fought had reacted, he had been right. But if this was personal for them, it was also personal for Joshua.
Thirteen years the empire had enslaved his brother, treated him like canon fodder and worse than cattle, not caring about his health or his suffering soul. Joshua would not allow them to pull Clive back into this, he would not allow them to take the life of his only brother. He was the Phoenix, the ruler over life and death and would rise to this fate, the flames of the Firebird roaring to life inside him. The wings of the Phoenix unfurled behind him and Joshua knew that it was way too much to go against one man in a semi-primed state, but his rage was unending and the Phoenix's shared his anger, readily allowing him to dip into it's power.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," the soldier cursed, before he broke the lock he had on Joshua's blade, jumping back and out of range. He pulled a spell forth in his hand, but Joshua skirted out of reach easily, his wings carrying him to the side. The blast of aether went astray, toppling one of the tents and dissolving it's fabric, but it was also the moment that Joshua realized, that more and more imperials poured into the camp. Yet his shields were holding themselves against the invaders well enough, and Joshua turned back to the branded with the short dark hair, his eyes a turmoil of stubborn defiance, anger and dread.
The soldier knew exactly that he had bitten off more than he could chew, when he had attacked Joshua. But Joshua was not willing to give him any ground and even though he wondered if he should offer the man mercy, he doubted that he would accept it. And so he pushed forward once again, the wings at his back strong and burning, their swords clashing. It was easy driving the man back another step and Joshua decided that he would no longer play.
Conjuring a shield, he deflected the spell that the soldier threw at him while stumbling back. The man for sure was determined, while knowing that he would fail. The desperation of a man, who had no longer any hope. Joshua caught his blade once more, before starting an attack of his own and soldier caught the fireball aimed at him with a spell, before driving his sword in Joshuas direction, twisting and turning, evading the attacks that Joshua set out.
Joshua frowned, the fighting will of his opponent awoken now and he pushed that will with a vengeance, his attacks fast and fluent between sword and spell. His semi-prime allowed Joshua to keep up with the mad dash of the imperial, but he couldn't ignore the fact, that he man was able to evade and deflect him so easily. The realization came like a cold rain shower in summer, when Joshua catapulted himself into the air to get out of range. Clive had trained with these men, and they had learned his tactic to defeat him. The same tactics Joshua had been taught by his teachers and instructors.
He had to end this fight. Pushing the Phoenix to the front, he gathered the fire underneath his hands and channeled it into one massive spell, that he knew the man could not evade. He wanted it to be over quick and with a scream, he released the aether underneath his hands, sending it forth, engulfing the man, burning him to ash in a matter of second. These men had kept his brother alive for the last decade - a swift, painless death was the least, Joshua could grant him.
Letting to of his semi-prime, Joshua allowed himself to fall back to the ground, his body shaking with pain for a moment, blood rising to his throat and suffocating him, but he spat it to the side. This fight was not yet done; he was not yet done. Summoning another spell underneath his hands, he pushed towards the man Lord Murdoch and his father were fighting, but then he saw a glint of steel high in the sky and he let go of the spell, pulling the Phoenix forth again for a second semi-prime.
This Dragoon would be his.
Clive blocked Tiamat’s advance with his father’s sword, holding the flat of the blade steady with his non-dominant forearm, while his opponent pressed forward. “Tiamat, stop it! Please!” he beseeched. “It doesn’t have to end this way. There is a way out of this!”
But Tiamat’s movements were fast and precise, the draw on the aether for spells was rather extensive compared to his usual method and way of fighting. He was angry at the world and especially at Clive, and while he couldn’t exactly blame him for that, Clive had no intention of giving in and just roll over to die. But there was no denying anymore - Tiamat knew that this was the end. He had been caught in the middle of the enemy’s camp, Biast and Aevis were already gone and there was no way out of this for him but death. Either by Clive’s hand or their imperial commander, when he returned home without his mission fulfilled.
The only reason, Tiamat was still fighting the way he did was out of spite. He blamed Clive for his fate and he wasn’t even that wrong about it. If Clive had kept his head down, none of this would have come to pass, but Clive would have never returned to his family either - to the people he loved and that was an unacceptable thought on it’s own.
Evading the magic enforced blade, Clive danced to the side, not even trying to block the hit that would have brought him to his knees. Instinctively he tried to draw in the Phoenix to shift closer, to get himself an advantage with it’s speed, but the Firebird stayed silent and Clive cursed the shackles around his wrists.
Yes, they had often trained without using magic, but at that time neither of them had used it, but Tiamat had an advantage now, that could spell Clive’s death, if he wasn’t bringing everything he had to the table. He knew that neither is father nor his brother could intervene since the fear was too great that they could hit him instead, be it with blade or magic. He had to get Tiamat, keep him in close range, since the Sergeant’s magic was unusable on short distance, his ability to infuse this blade with it hindered. Clive would have been able to do it, since his magic worked both ways, but the fetters were choking him, his reaching for the Phoenix and Ifrit silent and unanswered.
If he wasn’t careful, this could end up with severed limbs or worse, not that his amor would have actually protected him against a well placed hit of Tiamat’s sword.
Bringing his blade up to a block, Clive allowed Tiamat to close in, before ducking out of the way again, aiming with the flat of his sword for his opponent’s arm in the hopes of maybe breaking the bone to force him to drop his weapon, but unfortunately Tiamat anticipated the move and bend out of the way, forcing Clive in turn to evade the sword that was coming now for his own head.
At this point, Clive had to accept the simple fact that Tiamat didn’t want to live - he didn’t want to be saved, and maybe this was the last thing, Clive could do for him. A warrior’s death, not the one he would get, if he returned empty handed. Tiamat didn’t want to be saved, but Clive for sure as hell wanted to live.
Turning the sword, Clive brought the sharp edge out, waiting for another one of Tiamat’s close counter attacks, and this time he did not hesitate. Blocking the hit, he pressed the sword to the side, forcing Tiamat to open his stance, allowing him to elbow him back, throwing off his balance. It was nearly to easy to press the advantage after that, Tiamat barely able to defend himself against his incoming strikes, not even pulling from the aether anymore. He was tired, not only from this battle but from living the life of a slave.
“End it Wyvern!” he barked at him. “Get it done!”
Clive didn’t reply when he brought the sword around in wide ark, turning it in his hand and there was no resistance when the sharp edge did cut through muscle, blood vessels and sinew. It was an instant death, that Tiamat maybe had not deserved after leading the life of a deathbringer, but Clive was just the same and he wouldn’t allow him to suffer. They had both had been through enough at the hand of the Holy Empire.
Maybe not so holy, the longer Clive thought about it.
The silence that followed after was deafening, but the only thing Clive heard was the rushing of blood, the drumming of his pulse in his ears and his gasping breath, when he tried to pull in more air than he could. He was exhausted, his body on it’s limit and Tiamat had forced and challenged him more than he had expected. Using the sword as a crutch, Clive stumbled away from Tiamat’s corpse before he let himself fall down to one knee, shaking and trembling. He just needed a moment to collect himself, to take stock and to make sure that he still had indeed all of his fingers and extremities. Sometimes in the heat of battle he lost all sense for pain and agony, not even realizing when he had been hit or was bleeding out. Tiamat had usually seen that as a good quality, cause it meant, he did get the job done, but it was definitely not a good thing for his health.
Taking one last deep breath, Clive pushed himself back up, before he lifted the sword and then drove it into the ground, stepping back from it with his head held high, showing the shields around him that he was no danger to any of them, now that he was unarmed again, although Clive had to admit to himself, that they would be vary of him anyways, considering he had broken the necks of an imperial without needing any sort of weapon. Letting his arms fall to his side, he waited.
It was his father, who stepped forward first, taking up his sword again to sheathe it, before he walked up to him and took both of Clive’s hands, releasing the locks of the fetters around his wrists. “I think you have proven that you’re no wolf in a sheep’s skin,” the Archduke said softly, handling the fetters to one of the shields next to him. “Your actions now and our talks before are enough for me. Welcome home, son. Welcome home.”
Clive didn’t even know what was happening, but in the next moment he found himself in his father’s embrace and he returned it, holding onto him with all his strength. Maybe, maybe for once things would start to look up.
Soon after, they were back in the tent of the Lord Commander as Clive had realized upon his return and sitting on the cot he had been sleeping on before. “What's gonna happen now?" he asked. Torgal had rolled himself into a huge furry circle at his feet, eyes closed und breathing deeply, but Clive knew the dog was not asleep. He hadn't let him out of sight since their reunion, and Clive was grateful for it. Torgal's presence was soothing, the weight on his feet an anchor to keep him in the present.
Elwin sighed. "We will strengthen the patrol around the camp and on our borders," he said, arms crossed in front of his chest. "I hope this and the fact that their little plan failed, will deter the empire from starting another attack. After all, they have failed three times now to get us to our knees. Phoenix Gate and these two attacks."
Running his hands through his hair, Clive frowned. "Did you ever find out, why the Empire did attack Rosaria in the first place?" His eyes were looking back and forth between the three men in front of him.
Elwin shook his head. "We tried, but never got very far and a few years, after Phoenix Gate we gave up on trying to understand. Especially since your mother slipped through our grasp, as we know now." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, the Archduke walked up and down the tent, and Clive could see him remember the events of these years long past. "But let this be a matter for another day. Joshua and the Lord Commander will hold the lines here, while you and I will return home to Rosalith."
"What?" Clive's voice was nothing but a whisper, but then he frowned. "Why just the two of us? We are needed here."
“You need time to rest and recover,” Joshua replied, gripping his shoulder in a tight hold. “Father is right. This bone deep exhaustion that is plaguing you is not something the Phoenix can heal. If I could, I would have, because I am as loathe to let you out of my sight, as father is. But one of us has to stay and that will be me.”
Clive wanted to deny him, wanted to tell him, that it was his duty to protect him and that he had failed him way too often already, but his own body was betraying him, trembling and shivering from weariness and Clive hated himself for it. For the weakness he could not control. Thirteen years he had pushed through everything the Empire had thrown at him and now, when it was important to prove to his family and to himself, that he was still capable, his own body was no longer following his lead.
Joshua sighed, before he went into a crouch before Clive, careful to not step on Torgal and he wrapped his hands around the back of Clive’s neck, pulling him forward until their foreheads touched and one's exhale became the other’s inhale. “I love you, Clive,” he sighed, his fingers kneading into Clive’s strained muscles, loosening the tension. “And this is, why I have to let you go. Because I care for you. I wish you could stay, because there is so much I want to tell you and so much to talk about, but your body is on the brink of collapse and you can’t heal here. You need decent food, a warm bed and you need peace, and unfortunately you’ll find neither in this camp. Let father take you home, let Rosalith remind you who you once were, let it help you to define who you are now.”
“Joshua, I…” Clive whispered, trying to shake his head, but Joshua held him tight, not allowing him even a bit of movement and escape his piercing eyes.
“It’s all right, brother. I will be fine without you and father. Just rest and once you feel ready, I will gladly welcome you back at my side as my trusted First Shield.”
Clive ground his teeth together. “Fine,” he growled. “But only for a week or two.”
Elwin frowned. “Maybe we best leave that judgement to the physickers,” he remarked. “Get some sleep now and we will see to it, that we can set out at dawn.”
Notes:
Joshua being an angry chicken is dedicated to Choleric_Dolphin! lol
And yes, this is one of my longer chapters.
Clive's self-confidence fits onto a teaspoon, which is understandable after the treatmeant his mother gave him for most likely over a decade and the long years in the imperial army. He will rise and stand for himself if there is no other way out, but otherwise rather stays in the shadows, away from prying eyes, because attention often meant pain in his case. His self-confidence will grow, but it will still take time and there will be some setbacks.
The switch in how Clive is addressing his father - formal and informal - is deliberate. The formal is pretty much when he is folding into himself, awaiting consequences or punishment. Not that this would ever happens from Elwin’s side, but Clive is broken and usually our families are those that can cut us the deepest.
P.S.: I'm on the war path with general punctuation it seems (mostly commas). I try to get better at that.
Chapter Text
And the blood will dry
Underneath my nails
And the wind will rise up
To fill my sails
Still far away
From where I belong
But it's always darkest
Before the dawn
See you can doubt
And you can hate
But I know
No matter what it takes
I′m coming home
I′m coming home
Tell the world I'm coming home
Let the rain
Wash away
All the pain of yesterday
I know my kingdom awaits
And they′ve forgiven my mistakes
I'm coming home
I′m coming home
Tell the world I'm coming, home
Only accompanied by a light guard of two more shields, Torgal as their faithful hound and riding the fastest chocobos that their camp had to offer, they made the journey back to Rosalith in a day instead of three as it was the normal pace. They rode their chocobos into the ground, exchanging them at one of the royal stable locations on the way for fresh steeds that still had the strength to run. Despite their general’s objections, Elwin had also returned Clive’s sword. The imperial blade was nowhere as good as the rosarian greatswords, but Clive was used to the blade and for the way home it would be enough, until the blacksmith in Rosalith could forge him a new one and a better one at that.
They reached the outskirts of Rosalith with the setting of the sun, the last rays burning on the horizon and dipping the firmament in yellows and reds, the castle a massive structure against the sky and without noticing, Clive slowed his chocobo to a standstill, just staring at the sight in front of him. After the first months and years, Clive had resigned himself to the fact, that he would never see this view ever again. That he would die on a battlefield without a name and without anyone mourning for him. Never had he believed that he would one day return home.
“Clive?”
The voice of his father broke through the haze in his mind and he wiped the tears away, that he hadn’t even noticed had spilled over his cheeks. “I’m alright,” he replied, but it was nothing but a whisper, torn from his lips by the soft breeze. Shaking his head, he drove his bird forward and caught up the other three, Elwin putting his hand on his shoulder with a wordless squeeze. Not much longer now.
They passed by some smaller farms on their way to Rosalith, but with the sinking sun, the street was mostly empty, and with home and food in sight, the chocobos were eager as well, running along with fast steps and cheerful calls. The shields at the city gates were ripped from their boredom with the unexpected arrival of the Archduke and a hasty scrambling followed, that sent one shield ahead of them to the castle. It was a scrambling that would have amused Clive in his younger years, but on this day, he only had eyes for the road ahead of him. A road so familiar and yet it felt as if his memories had been washed out and someone took a brush and repainted them with stronger colors and clearer strokes.
The people bowed before the Archduke and Clive just let his chocobo follow the others, his eyes wandering from one side to the other, taking in the sights and he felt a smile pulling at his lips. He remembered the people that had lived in some of these houses once, laughing as Clive had chased Torgal through the streets, when the puppy had broken free again to hunt down the sausages at the market place further up ahead. Sometimes Clive thought he recognized a face at the side of the road, but he ignored that idea. Too much time had passed for him to recognize anyone and it was definitely too much time for them to recognize him. He was no longer the teenager that had become the youngest First Shield in Rosaria’s history, he was nothing more but an imperial branded soldier.
Hissing against the agony in his heart, Clive pushed the thought to the side for the moment, his heart still hammering in his chest at the sights all around him. It still felt like a dream, but the smells, the sounds and the feeling of the reins under his hand told him, that he was indeed home. It was when the castle gates came into view, that he felt his hands cramp around the leather and he had to force a deep breath into his lungs. The shields at the gate saluted and the chocobos trotted into the first courtyard, the long rays of the sun bathing it into an ethereal golden light, reflecting it from the grey stone the castle was build with.
There were still merchants in the yard, packing their wares, but all in all most of the men inside were shields going about their day, training in the bailey or preparing gear. A call went through the yard and they interrupted their work, lining up at the side to greet the Archduke and it seemed like a memory from a different life, when Clive had lined up with them, waiting for his father to arrive and give his orders. A different life indeed…
For a moment, Clive just looked around, lost in his memories, but when his father dismounted, he forced himself out it and slid from the saddle himself, keeping the reins of the chocobo in his hand and the bird close. He had no idea what was going to happen now. He had never thought that far, had always taken it one step after the other.
"Let me take her, Lord Rosfield," one of the shields that had accompanied them, offered and held his hand out to the reins of the bird and Clive handed them over with a soft smile and a whispered thanks. The shield returned the smile with a nod and then led the chocobos away.
The highest ranking shield in the bailey approached his father in that moment and saluted. "Your Grace, we had not expected your return," he explained, but then his eyes fell on Clive and he frowned. Unlike the soldiers that had accompanied them home, this shield was older, grey streaks in his blonde hair already and for a moment, Clive tried to place the face, tried to remember a name, because he did for sure remember the man. "It can't be," the shield whispered, before looking back to his father. "It's impossible."
"It's not," Elwin replied, but before he could say more, Clive saw a movement at the gates to the bailey and his father saw it too and he stepped back on purpose to clear the path.
And Clive's breath got caught in his throat.
Hair like starlight that was once short and in a bob, was now bound in a long tail, a single strand braided, but both flowing down her back. She smiled, the same sparkle in her eyes he remembered when she had watched him spar with the other shields. For a moment he wondered if it was a dream, but he saw her steps quicken until she was running and he asked himself if she knew something he didn't, how she could be so sure about him, but the thoughts were quickly wiped away, when her body crashed into his and her arms came around his neck, pulling him closer and closer.
She smelled like snowdaisies and lavender, like ice and honey and Clive inhaled her scent like a drowning man took in the air, before he folded her into an embrace of his own, her frame so small and fragile against his own bulk and yet so lean and strong. He buried his nose in her neck, forgetting for a moment where they both were standing and what etiquette was actually demanded in such a moment. But Clive didn't care, not with her in his arms, not with him back home.
"Clive! It's really you," she whispered, her hand threading through his dirty black strands. "You're alive."
It seemed like an eternity, until Clive was able to make a step back, letting go of her and her embrace to just drink in the sight of her, her eyes the color of a storm, the rosy lips and her pale skin, like fresh fallen snow. She was an absolute beauty to behold. "My lady," he replied softly, finally remembering where he was actually standing, bowing low before her, but she shook her head and instead wrapped him in another hug, holding him so tight, that Clive could feel her heartbeat hammering against his chest, the same way she could most likely feel his.
"Let's take this inside, shall we?" Elwin asked after another moment and even though Clive's whole being wanted to refuse, he forced himself away from Jill to look at his father.
Jill nodded. "Might be better," she admitted, but despite her words, she held Clive's hand, threading her fingers through his and Clive had to admit that he was grateful for it. She anchored him to the present and prevented him from being swept away. "We are drawing quite the crowd and news will be all over Rosalith by tomorrow at the latest."
Following his father they soon reached the inner courtyard of the castle, leaving the increasing conversations in the bailey behind and Clive knew that speculations and rumors would be running rampant in a matter of hours. But a part of him couldn't bring himself to care about it. He was home.
Two more shields pushed the doors open for them and when the throne room opened up in front of Clive, his steps faltered and his hand slipped out of Jill's grasp. And just like it had been in that battlefield, his legs gave in underneath him and he went down onto the red carpet that lined the hall. Nothing had changed from the last time he had been here. The large glass element in the ceiling allowed the setting sun tho throw a last glimpse of light in the room, candleholders lined the walls and a few floor bound ones did the rest. Flags in Rosaria’s red and the crest of the Phoenix moved in the slight breeze of the doors opening and closing and suddenly Clive was a teenager again, heart thumbing and pulse racing in his ears with the excitement of his first command.
Jill and his father were at his side in an instant and the spell was broken, his knees screaming in pain from the impact. "Are you all right? Clive?" Jill's voice was worried and this time, Clive couldn't hold back the tears that spilled from his eyes.
"I never dared I would one day return here," he whispered. "Whenever I saw this room in my dreams it was filled with flames and Ifrit tore it down to the ground, leaving nothing but ruins, destruction and sorrow."
Elwin sighed, before he helped him back to his feet, hand a comforting weight at his back. "The chambermaid has prepared a hot bath for you and a small meal will be ready for you afterwards, and then you get some rest. The physickers can wait until tomorrow."
Nodding, Clive sighed. A hot bath and food did sound rather appealing, but then he turned around and looked back and forth between his father and Jill. "Will one of you stay with me?" he asked and he hated how small and begging his voice sounded. But as much as he was back home, he was also a stranger in the castle... and he was a Branded, that not every, if even one servant could identify as the Lord Marquess.
Jill smiled softly, her fingers threading between his again. "We both will," she promised. "There is much to tell you and even more that you have to tell us." She kept holding his hand, when she ushered him upstairs into the washing room, which led to a moment of embarrassment, when Clive began to undress without bothering to pull the divider between them. Jill oogled, Clive blinked and Jill turned around with cheeks inflamed, while Clive just took a long breath, before submerging his body completely in the bathtub, wondering if he should simply try to drown himself after that moment.
Thirteen years as a slave had beaten most feelings of embarrassment out of him, bathing rights maybe once a month if they were lucky and that in mixed rooms where men and women were being hoarded in. There had been no time for shame or other feelings and Clive realized, that he would have to shake off some of his habits again, since he was back at court. Yes, he had always been a Shield first and foremost, but he was still the Archdukes son... even with the brand of a Bearer carved into his face.
Scrubbing himself down with the soap that had been placed on the rim, he would have stayed longer in the hot water, but he didn't want to keep Jill waiting, who had at one point pulled the divider up and just hummed a song from the other side. Clive couldn't make out the words, but he assumed that she was doing it for her own sake and for his. To show him that she was still there, and to calm herself. She had grown into such a stunning woman, the outfit she had worn a perfect combination out of feminine and practical, a rapier at her side and a chainmail protecting her lower body. The white and blue tones of the fabric a perfect match for her silver hair and her eyes, but also a sign of respect towards her heritage, since white, silver and blue were the colors of the Northern Territories.
Pushing the thought to the side, Clive stepped out of the tub after washing off the soap, toweling himself down, before looking around for his clothes, which were nowhere to be found. "Jill?" he asked after a while. "My things?"
"The chambermaid said she left some clothes of your father in a corner? I have yours here, but if you go back into those, the bath was for naught," she chuckled and Clive had to admit, that she had a very valid point there. Picking up the tunic and the linen pants, Clive was surprised how well the pants were fitting, the tunic though would definitely need some adjustments, since it was quite tight around his chest, but it would do for now, until his clothes were washed and mended. Although he would most likely have to ask for some new things to wear, since it seemed like a not exactly wise idea to keep his imperial armor in Rosaria. Not that the wanted to.
Stepping around the divider, he caught Jill's eye and she smiled. "You are looking miles better now," she remarked, before she stepped closer and her hand came up to his left cheek, carefully tracing the edges of the brand in his face, her fingertips soft and tender. Unwantingly he flinched and it took him all his willpower to not pull away completely. He could see the pain in her eyes - pain on his behalf, her anger, her sorrow and her grief. "What have these monsters done to you?" she breathed, before she wrapped him into her arms again and here alone in the washroom, Clive allowed himself the realization that he could no longer hold on.
Letting go with a soft sob, he curled his body around her smaller frame, arms around her waist and her shoulders, while he tucked his head into her neck, allowing her to just hold him and protect him, when he was no longer able to do so. "I missed you," she whispered, her fingers combing through his wet hair, massaging his scalp. "Each day I hoped and prayed to Metia, that you would come back to me. And my prayer was answered."
"Thank you for never giving up on me," Clive whispered, for the first time in his life offering a prayer to Metia himself, that Jill would not falter, once she knew the truth about him. About who he was and what he had done - as a Dominant and as a Branded.
She held him tighter then, her silver hair like silk underneath his fingers and he fisted his hands into it, never wanting to let her go ever again. Clive didn't know how long they were just standing there like this, but he knew he didn't want the feeling to end, that for the first time in over a decade, he felt really safe again. Protected by the sturdy castle around him, by his father and the shields below, while Jill held his heart and his soul, both shredded by the long years of darkness. Jill had begun to hum again, the melody softly rumbling in her chest and the low whispers of her voice.
Clive wasn’t sure, but the melody was familiar, even though he couldn’t recall the lyrics anymore, he definitely could remember the tone and the notes, and Clive wished he could stay in her arms forever, listening to that soothing song, that was like balm on his torn soul. But it was over way too soon and Jill slowly pulled away from him.
“Let’s get you back to your room. The food should be ready by now,” she whispered, before she stepped back and Clive missed the feeling of her body against his in the second after already. As if someone had taken away the anchor he had just found again, had taken away the hold he had used to drag his drowning little skiff back to the shore.
He swallowed, trying to find his center again, trying to stand on his own again. “Of course,” he replied, brushing a wet strand from his face. “Please, my lady, lead the way.”
She smiled widely, shaking her head with a huff of amusement. “That definitely hasn’t changed,” she noted, while throwing Clive’s dirty clothes in a wash basket, before handing him his sword. “You are still ever the charmer.”
Clive followed her down the hall, shuddering, when the cold air hit him. The thin linen didn’t do much to keep the chill from his body. At best all it did was covering him to make sure he kept his modesty in tact. Not that there was much of that left after that little event in the bathroom, but at least he hadn’t been on full display for the whole castle.
When Jill held the door to his room open for him, he felt as if he had been thrown back into his past, as if he had never left the castle to begin with. While the sheets were for sure clean and fresh, the bed was still in the same place, the books lined in the shelves in the same order he had placed them in there. The cabinet on the side still held a small stack of books and some of Clive’s smaller trinkets and childhood toys, that he had kept for the nostalgia. All of them were reflecting the flickering light of the fire, and Clive realized that there was no trace of dust on anything in the room.
They had kept his quarters in better shape in his absence than he ever had, while being there.
The delicious smell of food was filling the room and Clive looked at the spread that had been dished up on the table to the side, while his father was tending to the fireplace, putting some more logs into the fire to keep it burning. Outside the night had fallen without a doubt now and the only light inside the room were the crackling flames and the large chandelier overhead. Clive still remembered the hassle to light up the candles on it without the blessing of the Phoenix.
Turning around, Elwin smiled before he placed another log in the pile. “There you are,” he chuckled. “I had already wondered, if you got lost on the way. You took your time. But it’s actually perfect, since the maids just left and the food is still warm. They have really outdone themselves, especially this late in the evening.”
Clive swallowed, his mouth watering at the sight and the smell, but he took a deep breath and reigned both back in. “They shouldn’t have,” he replied. “Not so late in the day. A piece of bread would have been enough.”
His father frowned, but then sighed and rose from his crouch in front of the fireplace, taking off his heavy robe. “Trust me, our physickers will beg to differ and so do I. Sit down and then we can talk, while we eat.”
They sat down afterwards and Clive realized on the first sight, that the cooks in the kitchen had taken the hour into consideration, but also the Archduke’s fast traveling speed. While there was a hearty soup, the other dishes were mostly those, that didn’t need a lot of time to prepare. Cut fruits and vegetables (Joshua would have been appalled, especially when Clive saw the carrots), dried meat and cheese, even some slices of sweet pies and cakes. It was a feast nonetheless.
They all had some smaller snacks, when Elwin looked at Clive. “While you keep eating, I guess it’s only fair, if Jill and I bring you up to speed on some events. What do you know of Rosaria after the Night of the Flames?”
Clive chewed on the piece of bread, before he sighed. “All in all, nothing,” he replied. “We got our orders and then my unit had to move out. I haven’t been in Rosaria or close to it in the last thirteen years and barely even in Oriflamme or anywhere close to a bigger city since the start of the continental war. We were moved to the Strait of Autha and mostly kept there, with some quick missions inside of Sanbreque, Dhalmekia or Kanver. I know that mother married Sylvestre Lesage and bore him a son after he had become emperor, and I knew that you and Joshua somehow had made it out of Phoenix Gate, but that is about all I know.” Looking back and forth between his father and Jill, Clive took a deep breath. “If I read the both of you right, I won’t like what I am about to hear.”
“The truth is never easy,” Jill remarked, before she reached out to him and threaded her fingers through his. “But remember this. You are no longer in Sanbreque and you are no longer alone. We are here.”
Clive nodded. “I’ll try,” he promised, well knowing that it was maybe one promise he would not be able to keep. “So tell me, what happened.”
Taking a large gulp from his goblet, Elwin stared at the fire, before picking up a grape to play with it. He was nervous and Clive wondered, what that would mean for him and what his father was about to tell him, especially when Jill’s fingers tightened their hold, not even allowing him a breath to even move. "After the Undying found your brother, we withdrew from Phoenix Gate, back to Rosalith by hidden pathways, which is the reason we didn't run into your mother while our retreat," he started. "My irritation at her absence was short lived, when the my aide told me, that she had ordered her whole jewelry to be brought away from the castle and we later got a notification from a border patrol that had tried to intervene with her transport, believing that she had been kidnapped. It became clear then, that she had been in bed with the empire. Maybe even with Lesage already as well." Elwin spat out the last sentence, before sagging into himself, emptying his goblet without refilling it. "I doubt she had you in the traveling group though. Our outpost would have spotted you."
Clive shook his head. "I don't remember a lot from after Phoenix Gate, but I doubt she wanted the additional baggage. After all I was nothing more in hindsight." Jill's thumb stroked over the top of his hand, grounding him with her warm skin upon his own.
Pushing his goblet to the side, Elwin released his breath in a long huff, finally eating the grape he had been rolling around in his fingers until then. "While our physickers saw to Joshua, we tried to determine what had happened at Phoenix Gate, while dealing with another arising challenge. But then the Ironblood invaded and we had to hold our own against them with the few troops we still had left. We succeeded, but barely. After that, we spend the next years fortifying our borders and rebuilding our army. We became even more isolated, since we knew that Dhalmekia would not be of any support, if the Empire made another move against us. Nor would they intervene, if the Ironblood made a second attempt. As it was obvious now. Sanbreque crossed our borders with Bahamut and an invading force and nobody cared."
Clive frowned softly and he saw Jill's eyes grow distant for a moment, before she refocused them on him, squeezing his hand again with a soft smile. It was this reaction, that told Clive that there was something they didn't want to say. Was this the truth they were so afraid to put in words, but a truth he needed to hear?
"Spit it out," Clive remarked. "Better say it now and we move on, than trying to sugarcoat it."
"All right, but I want you to remember one thing, Clive," Elwin said. "Joshua has forgiven you and you are not to blame for what happened at Phoenix Gate." Now he was refilling his goblet and then drowned the whole thing in one go. “I haven’t heard of one Dominant yet, whose first prime didn’t go awry.”
If Clive hadn't been worried before, he was now.
"When we found Joshua, he was badly injured, loosing blood and exhausted by the extensive use of aether due to his priming and the brutal battle that had followed," Elwin explained. "With the word of the Undying that the imperials were moving in, we grabbed him and then retreated to Rosalith in all haste to get him treated. It was a decision that saved his life, but as I know now, damned yours." He grabbed the bottle with wine and refilled the goblet again, but not touching it. "It was a close call for Joshua but the physickers did what they could, healed his physical injuries and kept him fed and hydrated, while we were waiting for him to recover from the aether usage. Waiting for him to recover and to wake up."
Jill wrapped her other hand around Clive's, before she took a deep breath. "It took five years until Joshua opened his eyes again."
For a second the words didn't make sense in Clive's head. Five years? That couldn't be, could it? Nobody could be asleep for so long and not pass away in the meantime. They couldn't mean it, and yet the eyes of Jill and his father held no deception or deceit. They looked back at him with nothing but the truth and Clive felt his stomach churn and turn. Five years... Elwin had said, that Joshua had forgiven him and didn't blame him, but suddenly everything made sense, when Clive had primed and appeared on the battlefield a few days ago. Joshua's fear and panic, his resolve and his anger...
"Five years?" Clive whispered and the words rolled off his tongue like venom, poisoning his blood. "Not only did I nearly kill my little brother, but I stole five years of his life? He can't have forgiven me for that." Staring at his hand, Clive pulled away from Jill's soft touch and rose from the table, his whole body shaking and not because he was freezing. Because of himself, because of the fear he felt so deep inside. The shame and the guilt. How could Joshua not blame him, how could Jill and his father still be so close to him, knowing what he had done to his little brother? "What have I done?" Clive asked, his voice nothing but a whisper, when he stared at his trembling hands. He could feel the tears burning in his eyes and a small part of him told him to keep himself in check, that he had cried enough in the last days, but it was too much.
It was Jill, joining him in his pacing, catching his hand in her own once again, stopping his restless movement. "Nobody is blaming you, Clive," she said softly. "No one ever did."
"Because you didn't know," he replied, and despite the fact, that he wanted to draw his hand away, he couldn't bring himself to it, Jill's finger a cooling touch against his own. "You didn't know that I was the Eikon that day."
She shook her head. "That doesn't make a difference for me," she remarked, raising her other hand and softly, tenderly she covered his brand with her fingers and Clive realized, how long and slim they were. "You are still the same boy I grew up with and you would never have hurt your brother intentionally. I know you, Clive. And if your father says, that Joshua has forgiven you, then I trust him with that. Joshua has never lied to us or someone else."
"Five years," Clive whispered.
"Stop blaming yourself, son," Elwin remarked softly. "You and Joshua had no control over the events at that night."
Clive tried to accept the words, because he knew that Joshua didn't hold a grudge, otherwise he would have never allowed their father to retreat with Clive. Normally the Archduke would have stayed at the frontline as a beacon of unity, but Joshua had allowed that they both returned home to Rosalith. He had hugged him in that tent and insisted that he ate. These were not the acts of someone, who didn't care.
But thirteen years of slavery had left their mark and Clive was still looking for the proverbial catch in the contract that had given him back his freedom. Was looking for the proof, that he wasn't welcome in Rosaria? That he would have to try and hide, or try to find a different cause to serve? Especially now after this revelation, how could they still want him here?
Turning away from the table, Clive allowed his fingers to slip from Jill's grasp, rubbing his hands over his face in exasperation. "Why couldn't Tiamat just let me die?" he whispered. "All the pain and suffering I've caused. All the deaths by my hand, because I couldn't control Ifrit. Joshua lost five years..."
"And you lost thirteen," Jill replied, the tone of her voice leaving no room for discussion, and before Clive could react, she was at his side, his hand once again tightly gripped in hers and the other one forcing him to look at her. She was cool to the touch and for a moment he shivered. It was a soothing feeling, that even brought Ifrit's every burning inferno to it's knees. "It doesn't matter, who suffered more or for which reason. What matters now, is that we are all here and we are all still alive, and I know that Joshua would tell you the same." She squeezed his hand, before letting go and then making a step back. "I for my part, am overjoyed to have you back."
He missed her touch the moment, he could no longer feel her, his fingers closing around nothingness instinctively and the brand she had covered suddenly flared to life with a pain and a burning sting.
"And so am I," Elwin agreed, squeezing his shoulder tightly and Clive hadn't even noticed him getting up. "We got a second chance and I will not waste a moment of it. You are home, son. You are finally home."
If Clive said, he couldn't remember the last time he slept in a bed it would have been a straight out lie, since he hadn't slept in a bed since he had left his own that morning, when he was heading out to the Stillwind Marshes with Wade and Tyler. And then his world had gone to hell in Ifrit's flaming hand basket. He didn't know, if he should call it irony, that it was the same bed he was now waking up in again - just a lifetime later.
Rolling onto his back, Clive stared at the ceiling of the castle above him and just allowed himself to feel. The soft fabric of the sheets underneath his fingertips, the rustling of the same, when he moved underneath it. The warmth he was wrapped up in, that felt comfortable against his skin. The rays of sun that fell through the high windows, reflecting on the goblet that was placed on the table, he had eaten the night before with Jill and his father, now cleared of dishes and food.
How long had he been asleep?
He realized the moment after, that no matter how long it had been for real, it had been too long for Torgal; the hound jumping onto the bed and starting to lick him all over the face, pawing at his chest, while the bulk of his body was nailing Clive to the bed. Clive couldn't help the laughter that fell from his lips, only halfheartedly trying to escape the wet assault, while he dug his hands into the dog's thick fur, ruffling through it. The warm weight was comforting and after a while, he just buried his face into Torgal's thick neck, listening to his own pulse in his ears, before he took a deep breath.
No matter what was going to happen, he couldn't stay in bed forever. He was the First Shield and he had a duty to fulfill. Or he had to try at least. "Let me get up," he sighed softly and with one long lick along his branded cheek, Torgal hopped off. Throwing back the sheets, Clive looked around the room before slipping out of the bed. A small adjoining washroom held fresh towels and a pitcher with clear water and even a bathtub, but it seemed that the maids hadn’t dared to prepare the dinner with him naked in the other room and had him wash up somewhere else. Throwing some of the water into his face, woke him up entirely and Clive returned to his room, finding his imperial uniform mended and washed. Not that Clive had planned to wear it here in Rosalith, but since there was nothing else for him here right now, he would just wear the most needed and leave the heavy gear in his room. He considered his sword for a moment, but then shook his head.
First he would look for his father and Jill and decide with them on what to do. The dream of returning home had never been anything else but a dream, but now he was living that dream - it was his life and he had to take control of it again. The life he had chosen all those years ago.
A knock on the door ripped him out of his thoughts and Torgal barked, before he ran to the door, pawing at it eagerly. Clive felt the smile pull at his lips, when he heard a call from the other side of the door. "Clive, are you decent?" his father asked.
"As decent as one can be in imperial clothes, I guess," Clive remarked and with a laugh, his father entered the room, scrutinizing him with a smile.
"You look good, son. How do you feel?"
Clive allowed himself a deep sigh. "Better," he admitted. "More aware of myself."
"The field medic said, that food and sleep would help you and he was right," Elwin said, holding the door open for Clive to follow him. "I would still like the physickers here to take a look at you, but we can do that later. There are others, who have heard of your return and would like to meet you."
Frowning, Clive followed his father down the stairs to the throne room. "Do you think that wise?" he asked softly, his fingertips brushing through Torgal's fur.
Elwin sighed. "You might have gotten unnoticed for the last decade, but no more. I won't allow it. Not only because you are my son and the Lord Marquess, but because you are human as anyone else. The brand in your face does not make you any less."
"Some would disagree with you on that matter," Clive chuckled, but it was without humor.
"They will, but I don't care," Elwin growled and Clive saw his hand being clenched into a fist, the leather creaking under the pressure. "I gave your uniform to the seamstress, while you were asleep. She should have something ready for you in a few days, since you don't really seem to fit my clothes and Joshua's won't work either. And I won't let you walk around in these imperial clothes longer than needed. That they afforded you as much protection as they did, is already a miracle."
Clive couldn't help the small smile that pulled on his lips. "Thank you," he said softly, but then he took a deep breath. "What about Ifrit?"
"The news have not yet made their way back to Rosalith, but they will at the latest when our troops return," Elwin replied, and Clive noticed, that he was steering him towards the Archduke's office. "I want to stay ahead of these rumors and addressing Ifrit directly, seems to be the best course of action. He's that one coeurl you can't keep in the bag, especially considering it's not only our side, that has seen your priming but the imperials as well. We won't be able to silence them."
"No, I guess not," Clive sighed, following his father into the office and the door fell shut behind them. "How do we proceed?"
Elwin nodded to the desk, which held a small plate of bread with dried meat, cheese and fruits, a jug of water and a goblet standing next to it. "We start with you eating something," he chuckled. "You need to learn to take better care of yourself again. I know that the last years were hard on you and even before, Anabella made your life a living hell. But these times are over. I know you never asked for anything for yourself even as a child, but you are allowed to do so, you know. Especially when it comes to essential things like food. The kitchen will be most pleased to make you something. In fact, one of the cooks still remembered your love for fried chicken. He was about to make one last night, but we held him back and said something light would do.”
“And I’m grateful for that,” Clive said softly, letting himself be pressed into the seat in front of his father’s desk and also in front of the plate with food. “There is really no need to keep them from their rest on my expanse.”
His father sighed with a shake of his head, before grabbing another chair and pulling it close to Clive, obviously not planning on sitting down behind his own desk. “But until I address the shields, I would like to catch up with you. We lost thirteen years together and I want to know what happened and where you have been. I know that it’s most likely difficult for you to relive these memories, but I will not leave until you are done. You don’t have to face this all on your own anymore and whatever you are willing to share, I will gladly listen to and take it off your shoulders.”
Clive took a shuddering breath, his voice choking in his throat with dread and relief likewise. He knew that is father would not abandon him; he could feel it deep down in his core. But that didn’t make sharing his life any easier, for his life had been nothing but death and bloodshed. The pain and cruelty he had been subjected to, but also cruelty he had committed with his own hands, the pain he had inflicted on others without thinking twice about it. “Where do you want me to start?” Clive asked softly, filling goblet on the desk with water from the jug.
“Where would you start?” Elwin asked softly.
Clive took a sip from the goblet. “Phoenix Gate, I guess. When everything went to hell…”
The announcement to the shields was surprisingly calm, to Clive’s relief. He stood beside his father the whole time with Jill on his other side, thankfully no longer wearing the last remains of his imperial uniform, but a fresh set of clothes, that the old seamstress had said, were based on an outfit, his father had worn in his youth. She and two more seamstresses and a few more younger ladies who learned the craft had altered the outfit in a matter of hours. At first Clive hadn’t been sure, if the lady tried to make a joke, since the new garments were… very formfitting in some places and he simply couldn’t remember his father wearing something like this. It was so unlike him, so… adventurous and flirting, compared to the very serious demeanor Elwin wore now.
Clive could only imagine that ascending as Archduke had cut his father’s life short in some aspects he had not even considered he ever had. The seamstress had told him, that this was only the base of his clothing, the more informal and less battle-ready variant, since the chainmail-additions, and the armor-pieces needed to be made by a blacksmith and the forging would take time. The cape that she insisted would go with everything else had to be fitted to his form after the armor was, and for a few moments, Clive hadn't been sure if he would be able to actually get dressed by himself in the morning. But he had admitted to himself, that this was going to be a problem for a different time.
The shields took the revelation about Clive's return in stride, some of them shocked, some surprised, but overall relieved that he had made it home. They definitely took it better than those in the field, but these shields, which Clive argued on the fact, were not on the frontlines and could see it without the fear of the empire that close in sight. The brand definitely did lead to an uproar, since all of them knew hat Clive's initial magic had been from the Phoenix. Ifrit's existence and the role he played in Phoenix Gate was more of a mixed bag, from what Clive could see in the eyes of the shields, which made him want to turn and run, but he had to stay, couldn't show that weakness. He had to face those, he had robbed of their loved ones, whether he liked it or not. It was the only thing he could do to make sure they all could move past the Night of the Flames.
With Jill by his side he stayed with the shields in the bailey after that, talking to each of them to hear their stories and to apologize if necessary. Some ranted, some were angry and some clearly had to bit back some words, but once this was over and they had calmed down it became clear very soon, that they all appreciated and valued the gesture a lot, some of them even daring enough after a while to ask questions of their own about Clive and his past with the empire. Trying to show as much goodwill as possible, Clive answered the questions he could, while others he had to deflect for their sanity and his own. Some things were better left unspoken and Clive vowed to himself, that he would take them to his grave, never uttering a word or put down in writing. It was time for Wyvern to finally wither away and rest in peace.
Once the shields had returned to their duties, Jill dragged him off to the royal physicker for that thorough examination that everyone had already threatened him with a few times and Clive accepted it stoically, sitting on the bed - stripped down to his small clothes again, while answering the myriad of questions that the man had, in between him pulling and prodding at each limb and it seemed like every inch of Clive's body. Clive felt rather exposed, but he couldn't deny that it was wise to look him over, after all he hadn't seen a medic since he had received the Blessing of the Phoenix. After that, each and every wound he had treated himself, or had been treated with the help of the others in his unit. If they weren't even the ones, who healed him. For all his destructive flames, healing was something that Clive never had been able to give. Tiamat, Biast and Aevis had been able to do it and Biast had also been were good at it, but Clive had ever only had the ability to heal himself to a certain degree, but never anyone else.
It was unsurprising, that the physicker told him the same as the medic back at the front. Decent food - preferably the vegetables his brother still loathed like nothing else in the world, and a lot of rest and a few days no sparring or any other sort of training. Clive was about the disagree to the latter, but one look from Jill's face told him all he had to know. There would be no physically taxing things for him to do in the next days. Instead Jill whisked him away from the infirmary to the ducal library, which was still the same as Clive remembered. The way the fireplace was set up, the old plush chairs that were older than his grandfather, the countless books in as many countless shelves and the smell of paper and ink, that reminded him so much of these days long gone, when he had sat here with Joshua and Jill, just ruffling through those books that had the most pictures - for Joshua's sake.
A steaming cup of tea was already waiting for him on one of the tables, alongside with a book hat Jill had chosen for him. She left him there with a smile, attending to her duties that seemed to encompass a lot more than Clive had actually assumed, but she promised him to return later to read alongside him or read a book of her own. It was definitely a prospect that Clive was looking forward too. When she come back, they didn't read though, but instead Jill did the same as Elwin had done in the morning and so Clive told her about his days in the imperial army, filled in those gaps, that he had left on purpose when he had spoken to the soldiers, since some of these stories were hitting too close to home, plain and simple.
Jill though deserved the whole truth and no holding back and so he didn't.
They retired soon after dinner with the Archduke and despite not being a long sleeper, Clive found himself in bed way past sunrise again the next morning and he had to admit to himself that the physickers had seemed right. He had functioned on a constant edge to a total breakdown and his body demanded the rest, now that he finally had the chance to do so. But he was also well aware of the fact, that he couldn't laze around like this forever.
Clive went back into training the first day he was allowed to do so again, but realized soon enough that he had to adjust his own training to that of the shields again, since the shields trained in earnest but not with the brutality and single-minded ruthlessness, that Tiamat and the others had on their worst day. Injuries while training in the wilds hadn’t been a daily occurrence but a common one, nonetheless Clive decided to watch the shields train for a few hours, before he started his own training routine alone, trying to remember the shield's movements compared to his own, for the tactic of the shields was open warfare, a clear sign of strength towards the enemy, while Clive had done the exact opposite in the last decade. Hidden attacks, swift strikes like those of a murderer in the night. And that was exactly what he had been. Clive knew what it meant to serve with honor, but he was nothing else but a killer in the shadows, the knife that could kill a man without everyone around him noticing. Hidden warfare had been his domain and it would take time to force himself out of that mindset again.
Some of the more brave and curious ones offered to spar with Clive for further training and even though Clive was unsure at first - afraid that his underhanded fighting strategies would come through and the men could get hurt - but Jill, who usually sought him out once most of her duties were done, convinced him to give it a try.
The first two days ended with some bruises and cuts, but thankfully no broken bones or other setbacks. With the growing trust of the shields, it became easier for them to work hand in hand, the fear of accidentally hitting someone disappearing. Of course it couldn't be ruled out entirely, but that was the downside of a profession and all of them knew this. Clive did still spend some time alone as well, to train with the sword to get used to the different grip on the handle and the heavier weight of it. The blacksmith had completed the blade upon his return with the respective modifications, since it had originally been Clive's anyway, commissioned by the Archduke to be presented to him when he came of age.
Instead Clive had reached his adulthood too soon and without anyone of the duchy to witness. Just Clive sitting around a barely flickering campfire in the pouring rain, his mind wandering and wondering. Days and weeks had blended into a sea of bad memories and it hadn't been until months later, that Clive had actually remembered the day, he had officially left childhood behind. Not that he had been a child after Joshua had been born.
Another thing that Clive had never expected to see and that gave him another push to rise to the challenge and reclaim his fate was the reunion with his own faithful chocobo. He had never known, if she had made it out of the keep, but feisty as she was, she had been injured, had lost an eye and held the respective scar, but just like him, she had survived and had served the duchy ever since and Clive's father was more than happy to hand the reins of the white hen back into his hands.
There was one thing that was a downside to his rapidly improving state. Not being totally tired in the evenings allowed him to get lost in his memories, remember things that he would have loved to forget. Now that he was finally healed and felt fitter than ever before. Now that he was finally able to let himself fall, all these moments returned with a vengeance and it was hard for Clive to stay on top of them. The nights became restless and filled with nightmares and Clive did his best to lock that particular feeling away.
And so he spend his evenings either in the library or with his father in his study, helping him with the paperwork ("Father, I can't seal that!" "Oh my boy, you can. How do you think Byron managed to get things done? By creating a second seal of the royal family and signing his paper in my name.")
And so, his days began to slip through his hands...
Notes:
The lyrics at the beginning are from Skylar Grey's "Coming Home, Pt. II". I had heard that song a few years back, but for whatever reason the lyrics came back to me when I was starting to wonder about Clive and his return to Rosalith.
Chapter Text
Clive didn't know what it was that pulled him to the balcony outside of his room. Maybe the view over the castle gardens below, the flowers in full bloom, but deep down the actually knew that he was only lying to himself. He was leaning against the handrail, staring at the clouded sky, because it reminded him of that last night before he had left the Phoenix Gate. The last tranquil moments he had spend with Jill. Jill... the girl that had grown into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. The vision of this woman, that his broken mind had conjured up and that he had seen in his dreams, when everything else had become too much to bear, was a fantasy as he knew now, which was a pale imitation of the artwork that she was, inside and out.
The woman who seemed to be able to read his moods better than even he could, her boots soft, when she stepped out onto the balcony behind him, her movement shadowed by the falling rain and still Clive could feel her, could feel her in the aether, a matter that confused and puzzled him to no end. Only his brother and Dion had ever been this bright for him, but never Jill.
“Clive, what’s wrong?” she asked softly and his thought was broken, floating away like a leaf on a river.
He took a long breath, before he looked back over the castle gardens. “It’s raining," he replied finally and Jill closed the distance between them, leaning against the bannister herself, holding out her hand to catch the droplets in her open palm, letting them slide over her skin like pearls.
“It is. What’s so strange about it?"
Clive shook his head, imitating her gesture and holding out his hand to feel the drops hitting his hand, dripping of his fingertips. “Being in here, hearing, seeing, but not really feeling it on my skin," he replied. "These few drops are nothing. I got so used to the rain petering down on my back and my neck, soaking my clothes, that I never thought I’d miss it. Now I hear the raindrops hitting the roof above me, the ground and the leaves below me, but I don't feel them. Don't taste them.”
He could feel the frown on Jill's face more than he could actually see it. It was a ripple through himself, that he couldn't quite understand. “Clive, how often did you sleep under a roof in these thirteen years?” she asked and her voice was dangerously low, the anger a swinging note of blood that seeped into the words.
Turning his attention to her, Clive watched her for a moment or two, before he gave her an answer. “Barely, rarely… sometimes," he sighed, his eyes wandering over the roof of the castle. "Why give a spot to a Branded, when a soldier needs a dry place to sleep?”
"And so you started to associate the rain with every bad thing it brings," Jill said softly, her words bled out of fury and hidden rage, but instead laced with compassion and sorrow, feeling his suffering better than he actually remembered it. "Cold and sodden clothes, no place to sleep, wet rations and not even a fire to warm yourself on."
Clive didn't have to answer her with words, for she could see it written all over his face. But suddenly she reached out to his hand, her fingers threading through his and she pulled him off the bannister and back inside the castle. "Come with me," she said, and Clive followed her without hesitation and without a thought. If it was her wish, he would follow her to the ends of the world and to hell if it was required. Her steps echoed from the high halls, when she brought him downstairs and towards the backyard of the castle that was only accessible for the Archduke and his immediate family, since no one else was allowed in these gardens.
Of course it was raining on the backside of the castle just as well as it did on the frontside and Clive asked himself for a moment, why she had brought him here. But Jill dragged him into the rain, both of his hands in hers, coming to a stop in the middle of one of the pathways, surrounded by wild flowers and a small pond with a little stream, that was happily bubbling along and Clive realized, that neither of it had been there in his childhood.
The rain had both of them soaked in mere moments, but unlike normal, the drops were warm and did not freeze Clive to his core. It was a pleasant sensation and Clive smiled softly, returning the one that Jill had given him before.
"Do you remember, when we accompanied your father on his annual tour through the duchy?" Jill asked softly, her hands warm in his.
Clive chuckled. "We broke away from the procession to ride up Mann's Hill to see the snowdaisies. A thunderstorm forced us to take refuge in a grove of oaks before we even made it halfway there."
Jill nodded, smiling widely as well. "The Lord Commander found us and he was non too pleased," she recalled, the amusement bubbling in her voice. To Clive's ears it was a beautiful sound. "But why you did it, is what is more important. You saw me crying and thought a change of scenery might lift my spirits. In the end it earned me a nasty cough and a stern scolding from your mother. But I felt wonderful nonetheless." For a moment, Jill's fingers tightened around his and she closed her eyes, the rain never letting up. "Before we left, my chambermaid told me, she'd overheard your mother talking about my marriage prospects with some of the noblemen at court. They were debating if it would be more profitable to marry me off to one of the High Houses instead of saving me for the ducal line. No one thought to ask me what I wanted. I was nothing to them. A pawn at best. I felt so trapped, so lonely."
Clive felt himself grow cold inside, his heart skipping a beat. Yes, that definitely sounded like his mother, who had cared for Jill the same way as she had cared for him after it had been clear that he was not the Phoenix - not at all. "I didn't know," he whispered softly, wondering if she would even hear his words over the pattering rain.
But Jill just wistfully smiled at him, returning his attention back to her and to the present. "But I wasn't alone - you were there. Your hand in mine, when we ran for those oaks, and I knew then, no matter what happened, I would be all right." She squeezed his hand for a moment. "I'll never forget that feeling. And this is what I want you to remember. I want you to remember this day, when we were running for these oaks, the rain soaking us both and yet, we were laughing. You were smiling. I won't tell you to forget, how the rain made you feel in the last years, because it is a part of you. A part that made you who you are today. But it's not the only thing that shaped you. The imperial soldier is not the only thing, that you are. I can still see that boy in you, who held me in his arms to warm me up and shield me from the rain."
Letting go of his hands, Jill wrapped her arms around Clive's midsection, pulling him to her and holding him tight, her cheek upon his chest. Clive hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Jill's body so alluring and comforting and his arms came up on their own, slung themselves around her shoulders and he buried his nose in the crook of her neck, just inhaling her scent, the scent of the rain and the wet soil beneath their feet. Her heart was beating against his chest and his own fell in pace with hers and he had to bite back the desire to kiss her pulse point that was throbbing beneath his lips. Had to suppress the urge to run his tongue along the tendons of her neck, nibbling her skin.
She pressed closer to him, her body melting into his without a breath in between them and the rain became a comforting sensation in the background, a warm shower and he couldn't think of a better soul to spend the moment with. Where once was a piece of him, always cold in the rain, was now warmth to conquer it, to remember better days.
It was Jill, who pulled back after a while, but she allowed her hand to trace the brand on his cheek, before she pulled his head down, until their foreheads touched. "There is something else, I want to show you," she whispered. "Something else I have to tell you. I want no secrets between us. We have lost so much time already. I don't want to lose more. I want to make every moment count."
Tracing her hand along his arm, her fingertips trailed from wet linen to his skin and Clive relished in the feeling, before she turned his hand upside, holding her own still underneath. He could feel her warmth, but then she began to pull the aether and for a second, Clive was shocked how she did it. She had never shown any signs of being able to manipulate aether, had never shown any signs of being a Bearer, but then a large ice crystal began to form above the palm of his hand, spinning like a snowflake in the winter air. The chill began to spread down his arm, but it was comfortable and soothing and Ifrit purred into it, when it reached for him, his claw brushing over it, welcoming it.
The truth became as clear in that moment, like a piece of a puzzle slotting into place. "Shiva," he whispered, his eyes going from the ice to Jill's eyes, swimming with tears but bright and hopeful.
"Yes," Jill breathed, and she let go of her draw on the aether, pulling her hand from underneath his own and lacing their fingers together, warming each other again.
"It has always been all three of us?" Clive murmured softly, the fingers of his other hand digging into Jill's back.
Jill nodded, allowing Clive tighten his hold again until they were flush against each other. "If someone had told me as a child, that all three of us would once hold the power of an Eikon, I would have laughed," she sighed. "Especially considering how you and I were treated. The savage and the failure. We were defined by it, shaped by it."
Clive frowned. Joshua and he himself had primed at Phoenix Gate under the pressure of the events, witnessing horrible deeds, traumatized by the betrayal of Sanbreque and he didn't want to ask the question that was on his tongue, but he knew that he had to, if he ever wanted to move forward. "Jill? When did Shiva awaken?"
She stiffened in his arms the moment the words passed over his lips, and Clive let go of her hand and instead wrapped her into a tight embrace, kissing her forehead tenderly. "Forgive me," he breathed. "I didn't mean to cause you pain."
"No, you deserve to know," she replied, her slender fingers playing with the cords of Clive's tunic, her head tucked underneath his chin, while the rain wouldn't let up either. It only grew stronger, as if it wanted to match their slipping mood. "You told me everything that happened at Phoenix Gate. It's only fair of me to return the favor."
"You don't have to..."
"But I want to," she insisted, her voice muffled by the tunic and his broad chest. "Shiva came to me, the morning your father returned home after Phoenix Gate. Returned with Joshua in his arms, pale and bloody, barely breathing. But you hadn't been with them. Despite the fact that my mind already knew what must have happened, my scared soul hoped against all odds that, that maybe you had stayed behind at the keep to take care of other tasks. It was futile and yet I clung to the idea, as if it was my lifeline."
Jill took a deep breath and Clive could hear the silent sobs, could feel her trembling in his arms, shivering and shaking. "Your father asked me to meet him in the garden, the same spot we are standing now and he told me, that you had fallen, taken by the flames of the monster that had risen over Phoenix Gate. The monster that brought Joshua to the brink of death." Clive held her tighter now, her tremors stronger than before.
"My grief, my pain and my anger broke whatever hold I had on Shiva and my rage became hers," Jill whispered, her voice soft and full of sorrow. "The only reason the castle is still standing, is your father. I guess as a descendant in a line of Dominants, he noticed the signs of me priming and was able to actually stop me halfway. I think he was as shocked as I had been, but he helped me through it, grounded me and afterwards he was the one, who set me up with Wade and Tyler as training partners, saying that even though he would keep Shiva a secret, he would not see me have to venture into the world unprepared."
She stopped herself. "Jill," Clive whispered softly. "You don't have to..." Another fruitless try.
"We had still not recovered from the treachery at Phoenix Gate and losing you and Joshua, when our lookouts spotted the fleet of the Iron Kingdom upon our shores," Jill continued, and Clive's breath froze in his lungs. "Not many shields had survived Phoenix Gate and the ranks were thin at best. But I was angry, I was furious and being unable to direct my rage towards those, who had really hurt us, I was looking for another outlet and an invading hoard of Ironblood seemed to be a convenient target in that moment. I was filled with hatred, the goblet overflowing with it and my feelings became Shiva's. I asked the Archduke to take me along, for Shiva could stop the Ironbloods assault. Needless to say, he refused at first but I insisted and in the end, he had to agree that the shields alone would not be able to beat back the hordes. He was loathed to allow me into battle, but I told him, that he would have not been able to keep you or Joshua from it, since Joshua for sure would have needed to prime as well."
Another bout of silence fell between them and Clive refused to let go of her. He couldn't let go of her, since if this was the moment where he could be her anchor, he would be that one thing, she could hold onto. "I can understand him. I was a twelve year old girl still and not far in my own training, had barely learned the basics on how to wield a rapier. But I went with them and Shiva descended upon the Ironblood like the worst winterstorm, freezing everyone in her wake with ice and snow. The Ironblood called me an abomination, but it was clear, that they had not expected this sort of resistance. I never counted how many died in the snows that I called upon them, or how many were impaled on the ice spikes I sent into their ranks. All I know is, that I was angry and furious and I wanted them to pay for daring to step a foot on Rosarian soil. The few that survived, retreated in the light of the morning and never returned to our shores. After that, we made the shields and those who had seen Shiva swear to keep her a secret. Your father didn't want the other nations to know that there was another Dominant at the ready... and he didn't want to see me in another battle either."
Carefully Clive threaded his fingers through Jill's long strands, brushing them down to her back, without letting her out of his embrace. He needed a moment to find his voice. "I'm sorry, Jill, for all you have been through," he breathed. "You risked much for us and for the duchy."
"And I would do it again and again," she replied, her voice resolute and when she looked up, her eyes were hard as adamantite and cold as the ice in the north.
Brushing a soft kiss over Jill's cheek, Clive smiled and the feeling of her skin underneath his lips. "Thank you for trusting me. With this secret and with your heart. Thank you for these memories and thank you for giving me back the childish joy of standing in the rain and catching the drops on my tongue."
Jill never answered, instead scooted even closer to him, tighter and tighter until the world was forgotten around them. It took the loud crash of the thunder and the flashing of a lighting strike to bring their attention back to the present and they fled inside, both by now soaked to the bone but Jill was smiling wide and Clive knew, that he was addicted to that smile, had been since his father had brought her to Rosalith as a warden. It was, when they stood in the hallway of the castle again, that Clive realized that he didn't want to let her go, didn't want to be separated from her and Jill didn't make any tries to pull away herself.
"Let's get both something dry," Clive finally said softly, disregarding the fact, that by now the two of them had created a puddle, where they stood, their clothes soaked thoroughly. "But... would you like to join me for a cup of tea in my quarters afterwards. If it's all right with you, I'd like to hear more about what happened in the last thirteen years."
The smile on Jill's face could have lit up the whole castle and she nodded. "I won't be long," she promised and with a last squeeze of his hand, she turned and took the stairs two steps at a time. Clive watched her leave with smile of his own, before he turned towards the kitchens.
At this time of day, none of the staff was there anymore, enjoying their own free time now, even though one or two remained on the castle grounds in case a late night meal had to be cooked up for whatever reason. But Clive didn't need any of them for what he had planned, and since nobody had actually changed the layout of the kitchen or the pantry and so it was an easy thing for Clive to find some dried cured ham, bread and cheese and even some sweet tarts. Tea, water, the kettle and some cups and saucers he had in his quarters, since he hadn't given up on drinking tea while he read. Balancing the tray upward, Clive placed it on a small table by the fireplace, before he threw a flame into the prepared logs of wood and they caught on fire in a mere moments, lighting up the stormdark room, warming the cold air. Placing the kettle near the flames, Clive nodded with a satisfied grin, before he peeled himself out of his wet clothes, changing into something more comfortable and dry.
They had really left the room entirely untouched in the years he hadn't been home, had even kept the shag carpet in front of the fireplace in perfect condition and the additional warm blankets that every room in the castle had were still in the same cupboard as they had always been, clean and smelling of the soap that the castle staff used to wash them. Taking two of them out, Clive threw them onto the rug and realized soon enough that this reminded him of the rare evenings, when his father had been home from his duties abroad, Joshua, Jill and Clive himself huddling in the blankets in front of the fireplace while Elwin told them stories or just listened to theirs.
A small voice deep down hissed into his ear, that they were no longer children and it was highly improper for the both of them to stay the evening in his quarters like this, but part of Clive didn't care. He just wanted to spend time with Jill, reconnect with her and with the Clive he had been all these years ago. Being with Jill reminded him who he had been, and who he wanted to return to being again.
Clive threw an additional log into the fire, steeping the tea in the pot, when he heard the knocking at the door and with a smile he went to open it for his guest. Jill mirrored his smile and he allowed her inside. She had rebraided her silver mane, and switched from her soaked clothes to her nightshift, covered by her nightdress, feet hidden underneath furry slippers. She was absolutely breathtaking and Clive doubted, that there ever would be a day, when he wasn't stunned by her beauty.
Her smile widened, when she saw the blankets on the carpet, the long couch serving as a backrest to lean on, with the tea pot and the snacks by the side. "You made a little indoor picnic," she remarked amusedly, and when Clive shrugged with a lopsided grin, she slipped off her dressing down and wrapped herself in one of the blankets instead.
Clive chuckled and sat down beside her, taking up the second blanket before handing her one of the teacups. "I thought it only fitting after the little walk in the rain that we had," he replied softly, picking up his own cup.
Jill's eyes sparkled, before she inhaled the scent of the tea with a smile. "Cherry and apple," she whispered after a sip. "You still remember that?"
"How could I forget?"
Staring into the fire, Jill sighed, before she shifted the cup to one hand and reached out to Clive, threading her fingers through his. "I really missed you, you know," she whispered softly. "And I missed this. These calm moments between us, when we would just sit there and talk about nothing and everything until the housemaids would shoo us apart." She smiled again. "Lady Marleigh always allowed us more leeway than any other, giving us more time together, even though she went against your mother's orders with it."
"Is she still here?" Clive asked with a sip of his tea, admiring the way the golden firelight reflected on Jill's silver hair, sparkling like the moon over the surface of a lake.
"As a maid in the castle? Yes, she is. She is the head of the staff now and does most of the organizing work. She has been an invaluable help in the first days after the Night of the Flames," Jill said softly and Clive saw a smile playing around her lips. "She has also been the only one, who took me serious when I said, that you were still alive. She was the only one who encouraged me to hold to that hope and to trust in Metia. There were so many moments, when I was about to falter in my belief. When I sat in the library, reading and then reaching a spot in a book that I had to ask you or tell you about, only to remember a moment later, that you weren't there. That you were gone. Sometimes Lady Marleigh found my crying in my own room afterwards, but she never asked, only brought me some tea and some cookies from the kitchens and sat with me. She simply knew."
Inhaling softly, Clive drowned the rest of his tea, before he set the cup aside and scooted into the corner that was created by the couch and a chair he had moved there on purpose. Pulling his blanket over his shoulders, he gave her a small sign. "Come here," he whispered softly and Jill nestled in between his long legs, allowed him to hug her to his chest, her blanket now covering both of their limbs, while his fell around them from the top. It was warm and comfortable and way more intimate, but neither of them cared. They needed to be close to remember that they hadn't lost each other after all. "I'd like to meet Lady Marleigh at one point again. To give her my thanks for keeping you and your hope alive. Sometimes when I was lost and all I wanted to do was fade into nothingness, it was Metia's glow that gave me back a bit of myself to keep going."
Jill smiled. "I'm sure she would be delighted to meet you as well, just like Lady Hanna."
"Lady Hanna?" Clive frowned. "The Lord Commander's wife? How is she?"
Refilling their cups, Jill handed Clive's to him, before she snuggled back into his arms. "She is doing very well, still maintains the farm in Eastpool most of the year. She was here at the castle in the first two years after the Night of the Flames to take on some of the duties that would have been those of the duchess. Your father and the Lord Murdoch tried to hold the duchy together with all means and Lady Hanna was happy to help. We needed someone in these days we could trust and she and Lady Marleigh were on top of the list. They both understood our grief and especially that of your father, for they felt it too. Caught between the loss of you at the castle, Joshua unconscious in his private chambers with the physickers around him and the shock over the the duchess's betrayal, there was only so much we could shoulder ourselves. Wade and Tyler were there for us all the time as well. It didn't matter if we had to throw them out of their beds in the middle of the night."
Taking a sip from his cup, Clive wrapped his other arm around Jill, holding her tightly as if to show her, that he was here, that this wasn't a dream. "Would you tell me about it?" he asked softly. "If it's not to painful for you, that is.”
Jill nodded. "I want to tell you about it," she replied and her eyes were sparkling with a strength that Clive had always admired in her from the moment his father had set her down from his chocobo after his return from the North. She had been afraid then, but still so strong and so determined. This had for sure never changed. "After we had beaten back the Ironblood, we didn't even know, where to start at first. We were still reeling over the events, and over the fact that the duchess had been the one behind the attack at Phoenix Gate. Based on this, your father and Lord Murdoch turned her private chambers upside down and even those of her assigned chamber maids with the help of Lady Marleigh and Lady Hanna and these two where harpies in their own right, that even Garuda would have been afraid of them." There was an amused chuckle in Jill's voice but also a hint of steel.
Clive frowned at the ice in her tone. "I take it, that they found evidence?"
"Letters and short communications, most likely exchanged by their servants when they were out on errands," Jill replied. "Some of these notes and letters looked as if they had been exchanged in person though and we found certain... gifts in your mother's chambers, hidden in a double flooring of the wardrobe that imply that she actually met Sylvestre a few times in that year between the Remembrance Ceremony and the attack on Phoenix Gate. That she is married to him now and even bore him a son only proves all of our assumptions."
"The snake in my father's bed," Clive huffed and his free hand clenched into a fist, before he leaned down and kissed Jill on top of the head to calm the fire that was raging inside him and wanted to burst out. "Did you ever find out, why she did it?"
Shaking her head, Jill played with the strings of his tunic, her warm body a welcome distraction to his turmoil inside. "No," she sighed, still holding her tea with the other hand. "All the messages and letters we found outlined their plans and how to achieve them; how to fold Rosaria into the Empire, but always without a reason for it. We can't prove it, but we assume that it was her and Lesage, that leaked the information about our weakened defense to the Ironblood as well, but that was after her flight to Sanbreque of course. If there is still evidence of that, we would need to look for it at Whitewyrm, not here."
Clive let Jill's words wash over him, unfolding his curled fist to play with a strand of her silver hair, concentrating on the silken texture between his fingers to calm himself down. "What happened after?" he whispered.
"We began to dig and we did dig deep, since we knew, that your mother had many connections throughout the noble circles of Rosaria, even going deep into the Seven High Houses and so we asked your uncle for support in our investigations," Jill explained. "Lord Murdoch was at the tip of it, but we all helped where we could. Needless to say, your mother gained her standing with them not just with her title, with money and fear likewise, yet also with the prospect of fame and influence. It was sickening, when we realized how may of the nobles she had poisoned with her view and how many of them saw you as a failure, because the Phoenix had passed you over." Jill stopped herself and then looked up at him, before running his fingertips along his jaw, her nails catching in his stubble. "Did you ever wonder, what your mother would think of you now, knowing that you are a Dominant in your own right? That you weren't passed over, but simply that the Phoenix couldn't choose you?"
Clive sighed. "Sometimes I did," he replied softly. "I had enough nights with guard duty that made me go over my life more than once, time and time again, but if I have learned one thing in these last thirteen years, that it wouldn't have mattered if she had known. The Dominant of the Phoenix and only the Phoenix is destined to ascend the throne of the duchy - no other is allowed to do so. I would have been a weapon on the battlefield for her. The ram to destroy the Phoenix's enemies, so the Firebird doesn't have to take the field himself." Clive stopped himself. "And I would have done it, since I am still Joshua's shield."
"I'm sorry, Clive," Jill whispered. "For all that she has done to you. She poisoned the very cornerstones this duchy was standing on, and she poisoned your reputation as well. I know that the shields loved you dearly and they still do, especially now that you have proven to them again, that you are not only the Lord Marquess but one of them, but the nobles... I'm not sure they have really given up on their elitist views. After the revelations of their tight connections with the duchess, we stripped a lot of them off their rights and fortified our own lines of information, but there was only so much we could do to not accuse them of treason right out and unfortunately we are still lacking the proof for that in many instances."
"Not to mention that those, who have fallen into Archduke's disgrace might as well have forged bonds with the empress from afar, keeping her informed about the internal workings of the duchy, held aloft with the prospect of being welcomed into the high echelons of Sanbreque, once Rosaria has fallen to the Empire," Clive growled with a frown. "We might have to do another round of weeding out, especially considering that we have Sanbreque's soldiers right in front of our own borders."
"I know," Jill replied. "Those of us who remained here, have already started that process again. Your uncle is supposed to be digging into the Seven High Houses once more to see what he can unearth and we did the same from our side here, while your father, Joshua and the Lord Commander have been at the front. It's of course low going, since these nobles know their tricks and how to hide and obscure information to put the blame on everyone else, but themselves."
"My mother had some willing students, that's for sure," Clive spat, before shaking his head and setting his cup aside after he had drowned the third helping of tea.
Jill put her cup back as well, a sigh leaving her lips. "She definitely left us a mess. After we had rooted out as many of her conspirators as possible, we started to change the flow of information and began to cut the nobles from the leading side of the duchy, while still trying to maintain the impression of a strong nation to deter any other invader to try it again. In a way you helped with that. You were beloved by the people, and your loss was heartbreaking for them as well. So they rose to the challenge, when the nobles were exposed and supported us and our course."
"I should visit town one of these days," Clive whispered. "I know the rumors about my return have spread, but..."
"But?" Jill asked softly, when he didn't finish his sentence, worry clouding her grey eyes.
"I'm still a Branded," Clive sighed. "The people will see that, before they realize who I am."
"Then I will be there with you, every step of the way until they learn, that you are not a slave, but a man of your own," Jill replied, her voice cold as the ice she commanded.
Shaking his head, Clive pulled her in closer. "I can't let you fight my battles for me," he replied.
"I will not fight your battles for you, Clive," Jill said softly, before she pulled away from his embrace. Shedding the blanket she stood up and leaned over the back of the couch, grabbing two pillows from there that she placed on the carpet. Setting the tray with their empty dishes to the side, she beckoned Clive to lay down and he did so without hesitation, when she stretched out next to him, pulling both of their blankets over each other. The light of the fire illuminated her from behind and Clive was sure, that he had never seen anyone more beautiful in body and soul. "I will fight your battles with you," she promised. "That is a difference. You will never be alone again."
"You don't have to, you know," he whispered, enjoying the feeling of her hands running through his hair. Now that he had is head on a pillow, he began to notice how tired he really was and how exhausted he felt. But Jill just smiled, and never stopped the moving of her fingers, even when Clive felt his eyes starting to drop.
The last thing he remembered, was her soft voice softly singing along the tune she had hummed, when he had washed up the first evening he had been back home.
Sleep my love as the trees above protect you from the dark
A great river will watch you as you dream until dawn
Sleep my love, close your eyes
And when you awaken, the new day will bring to you a bright new world
Sleep my love as the birds above
Do rest their weary wings
Let the rain play a gentle song to help your dreams sing
Sleep my love, close your eyes
And when you awaken, the new day will bring to you a bright new world
Ever so gently hear my voice
Ever so softly feel my touch
Always so gently I walk
So go to sleep, my love
Notes:
The lyrics at the end are from Manuela's Lullaby from Resident Evil: Darkside Chronicles.
I think most of you will have noticed that I decided to reuse some of the dialogues for „Priceless“, since they just seemed to fit here to ground Clive to the present with Jill.
Also, I wanted to say a huge, huge, huge thank you to all of you who are reading this story, leaving comments and kudos! You are really making my days with them and that I haven't been asked yet, why I always run around with a grin on my face is all. Thank you all so, so much!
Chapter 7: The Wages of Guilt
Notes:
Brief sexual encounter in this, just in case someone plans to read that at work...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Following Jill's revelation of Shiva, Clive understood some of the inner workings of Rosalith a lot better now, since Jill was not only one of the Archduke's children, but she was the only female and even though Rosaria had been a country defined by betrayal due to Phoenix Gate, some old traditions were still upheld and so Jill had taken over those duties from the duchess that she deemed relevant enough, mostly those duties that served the greater good.
More often than not, they would meet in each others quarters in the evening after that night. Neither of them had spoken about the fact, that they had woken up in each others arms in the morning, Jill silently sneaking into her own quarters after Clive had kissed her cheek as a good morning greeting.
It was these few hours that Clive treasured the most. The hours where he didn't have to be strong, for he knew that Jill would catch him, no matter what. And yet... there were still recurring moments of doubt, that kept him awake at night, especially now that he finally had found peace and solace in the halls of Rosalith Castle, a month after his return. A month in which he had fallen into a routine with Jill, who had become his treasured sparring and dancing partner (she insisted on the occasional dancing lesson in the evenings, since she said it would improve his fighting and hers), his companion for long walks in the rain with Torgal, the constant presence at his side, when the nobles sneered at him and his brand - still set in the views that Anabella had instilled into them (and not only she alone, since she had often just amplified what they had already thought on their own). She allowed him to rise to his station instead of cowering down, like had had to do the thirteen years before. She showed him the way to become himself again and leave Wyvern behind.
And yet, on some days the dragon still reared it's head, flooding him with doubts, fear and insecurities. Nights when sleep would not find him and Clive would seek solace underneath the stars, staring up to the skies in the one place he felt anchored in himself.
Leaning against the columns that carried the roof, Clive stretched his legs out on the bannister, just staring at the moon, his thoughts wandering and tumbling. He was exhausted and still so damn wide awake. His body was aching for rest and sleep, and even his mind was begging him, and yet it was his heart that held everything aloft and aware. He just had too much to think about and it wouldn't stop.
The breeze was cold and the moon full and high above him, lighting up the gardens below. Clive could see the shields guarding the gates to the courtyard, the torches backlighting their frames. He knew that some of them were patrolling the castle and the hallways as well, an addition his father had made after Phoenix Gate obviously.
It was chilly outside, but Clive felt at home and he felt safe and for a moment, the last thirteen years were washed away. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and let the air freeze his lungs and stop the time.
"Clive? Are you well?"
The voice was soft, but Clive had to suppress the flinch before he opened his eyes. Jill stood at the entrance of the balcony, her nightgown covered by a dressing gown, her bare feet barely protected by the slippers she wore. Her hair was shimmering like liquid silver in the light of the full moon, just like it had been the night they had spend on the very same balcony, before he had left for the Stillwind Marshes, her arms wrapped around her chest.
Swinging his legs off the bannister, Clive sat up properly again, but unlike the last time, he didn't slide down, just stayed there, gaze wandering from the moon to Jill and back again. "Don't worry, I'm fine," he replied softly.
She smiled tenderly, pushed herself off the doorframe and walked over to him to lean against the handrail. But then she frowned for a moment and jumped up as well, dangling her legs free. "Can't sleep?" she asked, folding her hands in her lab, her eyes soft and so caring, that it seemed to hurt even on a physical level, when Clive's heart skipped a beat.
He sighed. "I'm just thinking, about my place in the world, about my place here. Who I am?" Clive hesitated. "What I am?" He turned his hand in the light of the moon, up and down, breaking the soft rays and casting shadows onto the balcony behind him. Bringing forth a flickering flame in his left hand, he let it dance around his fingers, the fire blue at the base, softy turning orange and red, before disappearing into nothingness, reborn again from the same abyss only a moment later. "The Blessing of the Phoenix, how can I even retain it, Dominant that I am myself? Should this be even possible? Holding the power of your own Eikon and that of another? Yes, we are both Eikons of Fire, but I can see the difference in the flames. No matter how much I have read in my youth, I for sure have never heard of any of this."
"Neither have I, and I did read a lot after... after you you went missing," Jill sighed, a shade of pink shading her pale cheeks. "I would take the books from the library and bring them to your room to read there. Just trying to feel your presence with me, while I read the words. Trying to feel what you felt, when you read them." The smile at the memories faded, when she looked up at the moon and Clive saw tears glittering in her eyes, tears that she refused to cry. "After a year, the Archduke and the Lord Commander sealed your quarters. I think it was their way to get me to accept your death and move on. But I never did."
Clive had to look away, the guilt clawing at his inside like a rabid beast. Balling his hand into a fist, he extinguished the flame with his one movement, knuckles growing white and pale from the force of it. It had always been clear to him, that his actions at Phoenix Gate were not without consequences, but seeing them in the present drove a dagger of fire into his guts. He shook his head, his voice caught in his throat. "Thirteen years of killing," he whispered. "Thirteen years without a glimmer of hope. It was me, who took all these lives at Phoenix Gate, all the lives I ended in the name of the empire. Why the hell am I still breathing?"
"Remember that night, when we were on this balcony the last time? Not our talk in the rain, but before you left all those years ago?" Jill asked softly. "I already told you, I said a prayer to Metia then and again and again afterwards and my prayers were answered. You came back to me. The heavens must have a plan for us."
Clive shook his head, avoiding Jill's soft gaze. He didn't deserve her compassion nor her comfort. "Maybe it doesn't matter, who I am," he chuckled humorlessly. "Because what I am is more defining. A murderer."
Vehemently shaking her head, Jill turned her eyes away from the moon and back to him. "Clive, you are more than your title, more than the brand, and more than a Dominant," Jill said, her tone kind but determined. "You are yourself and you are allowed to pursue your own dreams, your own desires and wishes. You are no slave to anyone, anymore. You are your own master. Ask yourself, what you want. What you did in the past is no reason for you to disregard yourself. Especially, since you didn't choose to become this person. You never chose to become Wyvern. They forced you to. And whatever you think, you have to atone for, I think you paid that price already, because you lost thirteen years of your life, where people treated you worse than a drover does his cattle. So tell me Clive, what do you want?"
"What I want?" Clive repeated softly. Never had anyone asked him that simple question. Never had anyone cared, what he wanted? Maybe because he had always made the wishes of others his own and nobody had ever wondered. The wish to protect his brother had made him strife for the life of a shield from the moment his father had told him, that Joshua was the Phoenix. He had become the youngest knight - the youngest shield - in the history of the duchy at twelve, the youngest First Shield with fifteen and then hell had swallowed him whole and his wishes and dreams had been burned away by the inferno and killed by the empire.
The only thing he had wanted after Phoenix Gate had been death and even that wish hadn't become real - which he was glad for, looking at things in hindsight.
Tentatively Clive brushed his finger over Jill's, softly, carefully, no more than a whisper of skin on skin, but she reacted right away, catching them and wrapping her own around his. Her skin was cool against his own, a comfortable chill against Ifrit's hellfire and Clive's heart began to beat faster.
There was something he had always wanted, but it was the one thing he had thought he could never have, after all she had been a princess and he had been nothing but the Archduke's firstborn failure. He had loved her from the moment he had first seen her, before he even had an understanding of the concept in itself. He had wanted to protect her and care for her, had wanted to spend his time with her, cause she made him smile, just like he wanted to make her smile. He wanted to hear her laugh, wanted to listen to her stories from the north, wanted to dry the tears she shed, when she felt alone and homesick.
It was years later, as he tried to cheer her up that day when he planned on showing her Mann's Hill, that he realized that it was more that he felt for her. That she wasn't just a sister for him. That she was more than that. That over the years of staying by her side, of spending time together, he had fallen in love with her and that feeling even the empire hadn't been able to snuff out. He had never realized that in the darkest moments and his worst nightmares, he clung to that soft voice that once tried to teach him a lullaby from her childhood and him trying to sing it, while being in his voice break. He unconsciously clung to the moon, when he had the watch at night, because it reminded him of hair like the stars above. He hated the rain, because it soaked him to the bones, and froze him to the core and yet he loved watching the clouds because they reminded him of her eyes.
The memories of her kept him sane in the midst of insanity, in the midst of his desire to court death. It was her that held him alive and focused, when the despair of every failed desertion drove him deeper into Wyvern's shadow. Yes, he had still clung to the wish to return home to his her, his brother and his father, but it had been her, who kept him alive when every other hope had failed.
Raising his eyes from their intertwined hands, Clive's eyes met those of Jill, and hers were filled with understanding and warmth and a kindness he didn't deserve. She smiled and he saw a spark, when she squeezed his fingers. The same spark that set this dream alight, that he had harbored since years, that held him in this life. It burned brighter than any inferno of Ifrit and Clive fueled it with his hope, when he leaned forward, closing the space between Jill and himself.
His heart surged in his chest, when she met him halfway, her lips warm and soft, like velvet brushing against his own. It felt so right, even if this was nothing but a chaste peck. Something Jill was obviously not satisfied with, her tongue brushing along his lips, begging, asking and pleading and Clive felt himself fall, allowing it, for he fell into the safety that was her. A safety even Ifrit felt, since his constant weariness and tension disappeared and Clive let the iron chains around his eikon go, concentrating only on the woman in front of him.
The woman he loved more than anything else. The woman he had always loved.
He raised his free hand, letting the tips of his fingers trail over the silken fabric of her dressing gown, before he reached her shoulders and the soft skin of her neck, and softly caressing her scalp, he pulled her even closer, deepening the kiss, opening his mouth to allow her to explore him, just like he did. She tasted like ice and snow, like honey and the sweetest wine.
He coaxed her to him, one hand still threading through her silver hair, the other one wrapped around her waist and there was no distance between them, their bodies flush against each other, their lips barely apart, their breath as one, hearts hammering in unison and in that moment, when Clive could feel her so close, could feel her ice dance with his inferno, never melting, never going out, that there was more that they shared.
This wasn’t just love like a sword, born from heat and strengthened by the freezing cold, it was an understanding of duty and holding on, when nothing else was left. She was the same as him and his breath hitched in his throat, before he broke the kiss and pulled her to him entirely, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, wrapping himself around her like a shield to protect her from everyone and everything, even if he could not protect her from what he had forced her to become… because he hadn’t been there.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, unable to hold back the tears that spilled over his cheeks. “It should have never been your burden.”
When she tried to wriggle free, Clive just held her tighter, unable to let her go. “Which burden are you talking about?” she asked, her voice muffled against the linen of his shirt and the muscles of his body.
"When you awakened as Shiva in the aftermath of Phoenix Gate, you did not hesitate," he breathed into her her and her skin. "With the Phoenix lost to oblivion and his Shield gone, you rose and picked up both of our duties. You became shield and sword for us, disregarded your own dreams and desires to protect the duchy. Your childhood stolen, because I failed. Failed you and Joshua."
This time, Jill pushed against him vehemently and he allowed her to break his iron grip, and her hands came up, framing each side of his face. "Clive! You failed nobody! What happened at Phoenix Gate was out of your control," she said sternly. "Trust me, I know it better than anyone. Shiva's emergence was a shock to all of us and the only reason that my first prime didn't went completely awry, was because your father was there, crying and begging me to come back. Telling me, that I was the only child he had left in this cruel world and he wasn't wrong. When the Ironblood came, I used Shiva against them, hating them in replacement for the empire I could not claw into. That the Archduke was able to keep Shiva a secret to this day baffles me still." Jill sighed, this time soft but exhausted and tired. "I never considered it a burden to help your father and the duchy," she said.
"And yet it was," Clive replied. "And you shouldn't have. You shouldn't have to fight our wars for us."
Pressing her lips to Clive's, she snuggled closer to him again and he pulled her in, clinging to her. "When your father took me in as a ward, Rosaria became my home, as she has always been yours," she whispered. "What daughter of the duchy would I be, if I didn't defend her with all my might? I chose to fight, out of my own will."
"I'm sorry, Jill, for making you do all this in my stead." Clive's voice was breaking and he just wished he could turn back the time, change what happened so she never had sacrifice herself for him.
"You are really still the boy I grew up with," she whispered, fingers threading through his dark hair, eyes holding his without a blink. "You were always so eager to save everyone else, to help everyone around you, but you always forgot the one person who needed and deserved saving the most of all. You always forgot to save yourself."
Clive huffed, leaning his head against the column behind him, his eyes wandering to the moon. "Myself?" he asked doubtfully, a part of him laughing like a maniac at the thought alone. "I think I might be beyond saving. The best I can hope for is atonement, but not forgiving or saving. I have too much blood on my hands for this."
Shaking her head, Jill pressed a kiss to his cheek. "No one is beyond saving, as long as they want to be saved," she whispered and from her lips it sounded like a promise, like something that could really be done.
"You really believe that?" Clive didn't want to sound like this, didn't want to let the hope slip into his broken heart and soul and yet, Jill had never let him down, had never lied to him.
Jill smiled. "I do, because I know you." She smiled, her eyes soft and kind, her whole demeanor open and unguarded. Just like she had been that day, when he had slipped her away from the retinue. It felt like a different life, a different Clive. "You are allowed to save yourself, you are allowed to dream and to wish for things for yourself. Your life is your own. So I ask you again, Clive: What do you want? What is it, that you wish for yourself?"
For a moment there was a long silence and Jill shivered in Clive's arms, when a chilly breeze brushed over them, the moon still high on the dark sky above them, Metia twinkling red like blood on white marble. "I wish I could have wooed you the way you deserve," Clive finally breathed, holding her close and brushing his fingers through her hair, silver waterfalls like silk over his skin. "I would have taken you to plays and spend afternoons with you in the library, each reading our own books or huddled in front of the fireplace reading a shared one. I would have gifted you flowers and presents from my travels, snow daisies from Mann's Hill, spices and perfumes from Kanver, jewelry and intricate daggers from Dhalmekia. I would have stolen kisses from you under the moonlight and away from our chaperone. If we were at Port Isolde, I would have taken you to the beach, come day or night, to sit in the sand with you, the waves washing over our bare toes. I would have taken you to the Rookery to show you the place that was my hideaway from everything I couldn't be, I wasn't to be, that I still not am."
"And now?" Jill asked.
"Having lost everything and owning nothing, not even the clothes on my body and the sword on my back, all I want now..." Clive took a shaking breath, his fingertips trailing over Jill's cheek and along her jaw, his thumb caressing her lower lip. "All I want is spending time with you, hear your voice laughing..." He swallowed, knowing exactly what he felt, but how could he voice it out loud for he was no more than a branded soldier, while the woman in his arms... she was still a princess of the North.
Jill breathed a kiss onto his nose. "Just say it..."
Clive ground his teeth, before letting his hand fall down and threading his fingers through Jill’s. Why did it feel so right to hold her hand like this? It shouldn't be, unworthy of her as he was. "I... I love you..." he whispered, his grip on her hand becoming desperate, when he pulled her closer again, his nose buried in her hair. "I want to love you, I want to make love to you... I want to be at your side, want to get lost in you..."
Her lips were pressed to his in a matter of second, her tongue probing, her teeth nipping, begging, offering all at once. Her hand in his hair and wrapped around his neck, while his encircled her slim waist, fingers digging into her soft flesh, the thin dresses she wore doing nothing to hide her from him. He felt her heat underneath his fingertips, and yet the ice on his tongue when she danced with him. She drew freezing circles underneath his tunic and he shivered in anticipation, the blood rushing to his groin and he began to strain against his leather trousers. By the Founder, when had she learned to use her powers like this?
Breaking away from the kiss, he trailed his lips down her neck, teeth gliding over her skin, her pulse point against the tip of his tongue and suckled at her skin over and over, while she moaned softly, both of her hands in his hair now. She was intoxicating and Clive was already addicted to her. Pulling her into his lap, he was well aware that she could feel him even through his leather pants and through the even thinner fabric of her underwear, but a part of him couldn’t care less, when he ran his hands up and down the cool skin on her thighs, squeezing her rear and press her down harder. Clive went by his instinct alone, coherent thought long lost, when he caught her in another heated kiss.
It was the soft call of an owl in the distance that brought his muddled senses far enough back to realize, that they were still atop the balcony, in plain sight of the garden and the guards weren’t deaf. Tearing himself away from her for a moment, he set her down on her own two feet, before he slipped of the balcony. “Come with me,” he growled, and without hesitation he led her back inside and to his room, shutting and locking the door in one swift movement.
He had barely turned around when she was on him again, kissing him, pulling on his tunic and he gladly allowed her to get rid of the disturbing piece of fabric entirely, throwing it carelessly to the side. Her hands ran over his toned chest before kissing his scars. But then she stepped back with a seductive grin and wriggled herself out of her small cloth with eagerness, her eyes burning in the light of the moon that fell through the high windows of the room. The panties hit the stone floor with a distinctive, wet slap, soaked already by Jill’s own arousal and Clive couldn’t help the shudder that went through him, his erection twitching in the confinement of his trousers. If he survived that night, he was a lucky man and even if he didn’t, he was still a more than lucky one. He caught her in another kiss, ravenous and passionate, his hands everywhere on her body and he wished, her dressing gown didn’t have so many buttons and bindings. He wanted it off her, wanted to admire her body in the moonlight.
“Clive!” she hissed with a low whine, her fingers deftly pulling at the strings of his trousers, just as eager and impatient as he was. He wanted her, she wanted him. Sometimes life was as easy as that and Clive enjoyed this moment of animalistic clarity where nothing else mattered but her and him and their shared desire to become one, to feel the other as close as possible. Her slim fingers slipped down and wrapped themselves around his shaft, freeing him and Clive released a low growl, when she ran her hand up and down for a few moments, spreading the fluid from the tip along his twitching length.
“Divine,” she whispered against his lips, and Clive wasn’t sure if he could be called this, since divinity was here in his arms, with hair like the stars in the nightsky and eyes of an incoming storm. Hiking up her dress and her nightgown, he pushed her against the wall, and when his hand brushed over her mound, she keened softly in his ear, grinding into the touch. “Don’t make me wait.”
“As my lady wishes,” he growled against her neck, trailing open mouthed kisses along her skin. He hefted her on his arms, so light and fragile and yet so strong, and she clung to him, so he could grab the base of his length to line himself up, head glistening and leaking, twitching and shuddering...
“Clive! I got a stolas from the frontline! I need you in the war room!” His father’s voice and the rapping on the door of his quarters was more of a cold shower than Shiva’s signature ability ever could be and Clive felt himself turn to stone, while the cold spread through his limbs and doused whatever inferno had been burning in his groin.
He looked at Jill, her eyes blown wide with desire, but also with shock, surprise and worry. The spell was broken and there was no coming back to it now. “I’ll be down in a moment,” he replied, his voice hoarse.
“Good, and bring Jill along if you could." A long silence. "Dressed preferably.”
Frozen in the moment, Clive didn’t dare to move until he heard his father’s steps disappear, before he carefully set Jill down, allowing the skirts to fall and cover her down to her ankles again. But he didn’t want it to end that way and yet it had to and his heart clenched in fear and grief. “Maybe it’s better this way,” he whispered against her lips, but when her eyes widened, he caught her in the kiss and poured everything into it, that he felt. He pulled her close, begging for forgiveness without words, until he ran out of breath. “You are a goddess made flesh,” he breathed. “You are a princess and my guiding star and as such you deserve to be worshipped and prayed to. I want to make our first time together a moment to remember and not a tryst against the wall. You deserve more than that. You deserve to be explored like a paradise, and a forbidden fruit. Slowly, tenderly and with reverence. I want us to have all the time in the world to touch, to feel and to love. I want to find out all the things that make you feel treasured, that make you beg and call my name. I want to worship you like the goddess you are.” He brushed his thumbs over her high cheekbones, before breathing a soft kiss on her nose. “I will make it up to you and we will be one in body, heart, mind and soul. This I promise you.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she breathed with a soft smile, now at ease with his tender reassurances and his warm body wrapped around hers like a breathing blanket.
“Good,” he replied, pressing his lips to her hair. “Because there is no one else in this world but you. It’s always been you.”
For another moment they just stayed in each other’s arms, breathing in their mingled scents, listening to their racing heartbeats until Clive brought up the strength to tear himself away from Jill, putting his length back into his trousers and picking the tunic off the floor, while Jill fished for her small clothes, frowning at the wet piece of fabric, before putting it into the pocket of her dressing gown.
“Let’s not keep your father waiting any longer,” Jill sighed, allowing Clive to put his head into the hallway first to see if his father or a shield was in sight.
He shook his head and together they made their way down to the throne room, Clive desperately trying to ignore how his shirt clung to his frame with sweat. But in the end, why did he even bother anymore. His father had caught them in the middle of the act and that he hadn’t been able to barge into the room had been all. In a way Clive was glad, that he had knocked on the door when he had. Two minutes later and the two of them completely lost in each other would have been more frustrating.
The throne room was cold and uninviting even in passing, before they left on the other side, towards the Archduke’s study and with each step a horrid realization fell over Clive, blood draining from his face. His brother was still at the frontline, was still holding against the empire alone and with all his might, because Clive wasn’t yet declared fit for battle again. Joshua was protecting their home against an invasion, while he was safely at at the castle, and so out of control that he would have nearly fucked his childhood love against a wall, rutted with her like an animal instead of giving her the devotion, time and admiration she deserved.
It was a sickening revelation.
“Clive, stop thinking,” Jill sighed next to him, taking his hand in her own and she was warmer than him, her eyes shining with an understanding, that he had always admired in her. The way she was able to read people and especially him. “Your brother is a clever young fellow and a grown adult by now. He can take care of himself. Besides, Tyler and Wade are with him.”
He shook his head. “I swore to protect him, when he gave me his Blessing and I have done very little of that,” he growled, trying to shake his hand free from Jill’s but she held tight, her eyes a challenge to try and she would still defy him. "And with Tyler and Wade as his protection, the First Shield has become obsolete. Not to mention, that I’m not even sure, he needs protection. After all he was very much able to hold himself against Biast and an imperial Dragoon." Clive's steps slowed and suddenly he was standing in the middle of the hallway, his fingers still intertwined with Jill's. "Maybe that's really what I am. The Archduke's firstborn failure. Not worthy to be the Phoenix, but chosen to carry a demonic Eikon of Fire of unknown origin. An Eikon of destruction and inferno. Not worthy to be the First Shield, for I failed my duty so spectacularly on the very first occasion, ripping apart the charge I was supposed to protect. And now that charge can easily protect himself. I even failed to take my own life, each time I tried." Clive shook his head and his fingers slipped from Jill's almost immediately growing cold in their absence. "I shouldn't be here. I don't belong here. I should go. I’m just… useless."
"And where would you go?" Elwin asked softly, leaning in the doorway and Clive's head shot to the side to the sound of the voice, realizing that they were close enough to his father's study, that his words could be heard through the open door. "This is your home, Clive, and this is where you belong. It doesn't matter if you consider yourself unworthy. You are my son and you will never be unworthy in my eyes or those of your family, for your worth is not measured by your titles, but your actions."
"My actions?" Clive asked. "Those shouldn't be mentioned for they were nothing but slaughter and death. These actions would spell my end and rightfully so."
"You have no more or less blood on your hands than Jill and I," Elwin replied, pushing himself off the doorframe. "When we fought back the invasion of the North, I lost count of how many men fell to my blade directly and how many more I killed, by simply giving the order for my soldiers to advance forward. How many lives I took on both sides."
Jill's arms wrapped themselves around his waist from behind and he felt her body pressing against his back, not minding the wet shirt, that still clung to his frame. "When we got the notification that outlooks hat spotted the fleet of the Ironblood on the way to our shores, I was so angry," Jill whispered. "I was angry at myself, at your mother, at the empire. Angry at you, because you left me behind. Angry at Joshua, because he was here and you were not. Irrational, I know, but I was hurting, because I had lost the two most important people in my life in one night." Jill took a deep breath and her grip got even tighter.
Elwin chuckled humorlessly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, letting himself fall back against the wooden frame to the study. "Of course I protested when Jill demanded to be sent against the hordes, unwilling to lose my only daughter after I already had lost my sons, but she was adamant and without her, I doubt we would have succeeded."
"I let my anger fuel me," she said softly. "And Shiva cut through the Ironblood without hesitation, without remorse and without discrimination, felling soldier and priest alike, until none was left standing. My hands are bathed in blood, just like yours. If you see yourself as worthless, because of what you had to do, then I'm just the same."
"No one in these halls is innocent, son." Elwin nodded towards the study. "Let's get you both inside. We're not having this talk in this drafty hallway."
Sighing softly, Clive stepped into the study and closed the door behind him. Whatever there was to say, could obviously be said in his father's office as well.
Nodding towards the stolas that was sitting on a small perch near the desk, Elwin leaned against the heavy wooden piece of furniture, scrutinizing them both for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Joshua sent an update from the frontlines and just like him and Rodney, I can't make heads or tails of it, because frankly, from tactical and strategic point of view it makes absolutely no sense at all," he explained. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "By the way our scouts tell us, the Empire has once again started to move troops in the direction of our borders and rumors say, that after his little dressing down, Bahamut has returned as well. He had been pulled from the frontlines at the same time the two of us pulled back to Rosalith. I know it's early and I know you are not entirely back on your feet, but I would like to have you and Jill back at the camp to support Joshua, while I'll hold the fort here. Even if we keep Shiva in reserve and don't reveal her just yet, I want at least you and Ifrit back as a show of strength. It might help to deter the Empire from attacking us and I think Joshua would welcome having you there as well."
Clive frowned at the news, but then he nodded. "Of course," he replied, before he turned to Jill. "Are you ready to head out by dawn?"
Jill nodded. "Even earlier if needed, if we only sleep a few hours and leave even before the sunrise. We can be back with the Joshua in a day, if we drive the chocobos the same way, you did on your way here."
"Are you fit enough to set out now?" Clive asked. He had to admit to himself, that he was way too riled up after his little make out session with Jill and his worry for Joshua had wiped any exhaustion off him on top of it. "We could ride until we both and the birds are tired, rest for a few hours and be at the camp by nightfall."
"Let's make ready then," Jill replied and they both turned around to leave, when Elwin called them back again with a long sigh and Clive frowned.
“I just wanted to say this now, while we are still here and it's just the three of us. I will not tell you, what to do and who to love,” Elwin remarked, leaning against the desk with a long sigh. “I will not bind you in marriages that make you unhappy. Founder knows, we had enough of those and know how they can end. That we are still here and alive was nothing but a matter of good fortune, may the Founder strike Anabella down," he hissed, before shaking his head. He sounded tired and defeated and Clive couldn't blame him. "I won’t assign a chaperone either, since I hope that you two have enough common sense to keep appearances. Just do me the one favor and try not to make a child until you are married, please. As far as I know, the physickers have herbs and the like to prevent that for the both of you, so please make use of it, until you both are feeling ready.”
Jill sighed. “Not to mention, that we are on the edge of a war and we can’t afford to lose the advantage of having three Dominants in the field or to protect the home front,” she added solemnly, hands folded together and fingers intertwined. “We will be careful."
Clive nodded, for he had seen the risks of childbirths more than once, standing stoically by the side, when a Branded brought their babe into the world, only for it to be snatched away a moment later to be tested, if mother and child even made it out alive... Clive moved the thought away. He couldn't go there. If he and Jill would ever get to this point, he would fight with all he had. His child would not be taken from him, nor would Jill. Never.
"I will try to get in touch with those who are left of the refugees of the North. Maybe there are texts or songs and poems that speak of Shiva and the potential risk of priming, when the Dominant is with child. Not that I ever wanna try that, mind me. It's just to make sure all ends are covered. If not, I might have to see if I can return home to search the libraries of the North. After all, Shiva is my inheritance.” She stopped for a moment, then frowned and reached out to Clive, threading her fingers through his. “Our inheritance.”
All Clive could do in that moment, was pressing a soft kiss to her temple to show her how much she meant to him, even if he didn't dare to whisper the words in company of his father just yet.
"If that is settled, I'll go down to the stables and make sure your birds are ready for you," Elwin said, pushing himself off the desk.
"I'll talk to the kitchens to make rations for us," Clive added, stealing one last kiss from Jill's lips this time.
"I guess I'll talk to the physickers," Jill remarked with a certain blush creeping into her cheeks. "We're better safe than sorry, after all and not just because of that. We'll need potions and bandages as well, just in case."
"Are there any supplies or other messages you want to take with us, Father?" Clive asked, his hand on the doorknob of the study.
Elwin seemed to ponder the offer for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Let me come back to that once we have finished your travel preparations."
"All right, I'll meet you both at the stables, once you are dressed and ready."
Nodding, Clive and Jill left the study and Clive closed the door carefully behind him, to make sure it was shut and his father couldn't hear them. He didn't want to let go of Jill. He didn't want to lose the feeling of her warm hand in his. He wanted just a moment longer to be with her, but aware of their duty and their plans, he stepped up to her and caught her lips in a long kiss, damning and not caring about the fact, that they were standing on a hallway in the castle, where everyone could see them. And Jill returned his prove of affection just as eagerly, her tongue dancing with his, her fingers digging into his back and the muscles underneath. He savored the taste of her on his lips, when she stepped back.
"We should set the staff to their tasks right away and then change clothes," she said softly. "Gives us enough time to get our gear ready, without having to worry about the fact, that we have to hurry the others unnecessarily."
"I'll meet you in your chambers, when I'm ready and prepared," Clive whispered and Jill nodded, before she turned around and made her way towards the infirmary at the end of the hallway, that would lead into the correct wing of the castle. Clive turned around and made his way back through the throne room and towards the rooms of the staff members and the one cook, who remained in the castle around the clock. Clive knocked at his door tentatively, but upon explaining the situation the cook nodded and threw a robe over his sleeping clothes, while Clive turned on his heel and made his way back up to his own room.
He had trained in the new outfit that the seamstress had made for him, but never in direct sparring matches. He had only fought against the training dummy to get used to the armor around his legs and arms. Armor that was a lot heavier than the light and flimsy one, that the imperial army had provided him with. But he had learned by now how to dress himself alone and in a matter of a few minutes, he was clothed and his sword was sitting in the sheath upon his back, his remaining smaller gear stashed in the satchels that were attached to his belt, a few changes of clothes wrapped in one saddle bag that would be attached to his chocobo Ambrosia. The second one was still empty for the food and the medical supplies that were still getting prepared for them.
Nodding to himself, Clive threw the gear over his shoulder, before he made his way around the balcony to the other side of the throne room, where Jill still had her quarters even after all these years. They had been expanded to the room next to hers, which originally had been the Duchess' private study, but after the investigations, the Archduke had cleared all the rooms, had them swept down and then a part of the wall broken down to add a door between Jill's living quarters and the study. In turn the door to the Duchess' room had been closed and the quarters cleared and sealed. According to Jill, they still didn't know what to do with them, even after all these years.
Knocking on the door, Clive waited and only moments later, Jill was opening for him, already dressed in her usual gear, which did not even try to be that of a high and noble lady. It was an outfit that was clearly designed for fighting, since her split skirts were nothing but add ons for presentations, her legs clad with leather pants and boots fit for riding and fighting alike. She too had her own saddle bag prepared, which was sitting over a stool at the side of her room. Rolling the spare tunic up, she tucked it away and then closed the buckle with a satisfied nod, swinging the bag over her arm.
"I'm ready when you are," she said with a nod, blowing out the candles on the nightstand that had bathed the room in a soft light.
For a moment, Clive wanted to hold her back and steal another kiss from her lips, but instead he ghosted them over her forehead. "Then let's go and see how fast we can get to Joshua and the others."
They made their was through the long corridors in silence, but Clive took Jill's free hand in his, holding onto her until they reached the bailey and the stables. Torgal and their two chocobos were already waiting for them with their father, the stablehand, the cook and the physicker. They had had brought the supplies they needed on their ride and with quick hands, the saddle bags were fastened to the bird's backs, alongside with a small sack of grain and ghysal greens for them to eat, just as well as a small one that held the dried meat for Torgal. According to Jill the hound had usually no problems to provide for himself, whenever they had him out on their travels, since he went hunting for himself, but they were pressed for time and couldn't wait for him, whether they liked it or not.
They also stored two messages from the Archduke to the Lord Commander and Joshua, which were status reports that they had all informations about the ongoings at home as well.
And then they were ready to set out and for a moment Clive was torn between wanting to head out, to be back at his brother's side to resume his duties as his First Shield and to stay behind at Rosalith, wanting to indulge a bit longer in the peace and the quiet that he had experienced there for the first time in years. But the moment was brief, cause Jill's encouraging smile was all he needed to make his way forward. With her at his side, the light of home would always be close to him and with him.
Boosting Jill into her saddle with ease, he turned to Ambrosia and to his amusement, his father offered to do the same for him and soon he found himself upon the back of his white hen and there was no longer an excuse to linger. The sun was still hours away from rising, but they had to make good of whatever time they had. But all of them were frozen in place, and Clive saw the hesitation in his father's eyes, the hesitation in Jill's. Neither of them wanted to actually leave - depart from this haven that the castle had been for the three of them and even though they would return. It was an eerie feeling and Clive realized, that he felt homesick despite not even having left. He gave himself another moment, but then he took a deep breath.
"Let's go," he whispered softly and with a nod to his father and Jill, he drove Ambrosia forward, who sprinted through the roads with a slower pace, than Clive knew she could run, just to avoid colliding with any drunkards that were still on the road from a way too long night at one of the many taverns that Rosalith head. But the moment they were out of the city gates, Ambrosia picked up the pace and raced down the road, that Clive wasn't sure for a moment if Jill's chocobo was able to keep up, but she could and together they flew over the roads and plains, shortening their way wherever they could and however it was possible. Torgal stayed ahead of them, driving away minor predators and other smaller animals, that could spook their birds.
With the birds rested and in good health, they made it past Phoenix Gate before sunrise even, a nearly unbelievable feat that Clive was relieved about. On their way back, his father had taken a slightly different route, that hadn't brought them this close to the old Keep and Clive had to be honest to himself, that he wasn't ready yet to see the destruction he had caused that night. One day he would return there, but definitely not on this morning.
They stopped the first time soon after sunrise at a small stream to feed and let the chocobos rest, and to eat a small breakfast themselves. While Torgal was lying next to them in the grass, Clive was leaning against Ambrosia's massive feathered body, Jill between his legs and in his embrace, allowing him to inhale her scent and nuzzle his nose into her hair, brushing his lips over her skin and once in a while catching her for a kiss in between bites of food.
If there wasn't such a pressing reason for their ride and the fact that they had to let the birds rest to keep their pace, Clive would have nearly considered this little excursion a romantic meeting. He knew, that they wouldn't be able to rest for longer than an hour if they even had that long. Ambrosia would make the decision. If she got up before their set time, they would head out. But for now, they could pretend that they had all the time in the world.
“Do you sometimes wonder about how our real first time together will be?” Jill asked softly, snuggling deeper into his embrace.
For a moment Clive was surprised by her question. It was a bold one for sure, since until a few hours ago, they hadn't even known, what they were to each other, but after giving it some thought, he chuckled and he knew she felt his rumbling laugh in his chest before she heard it. “Very, very fumbly,” he answered with a wide smile. “Aside from assumptions, books and hearsay I can’t bring any more experience to the table I’m afraid.”
Looking up at him with wide eyes, he could see the smirking spark in them and Jill's lips curled into a smile that matched his own. “Well, that makes two of us then. Books, assumptions and talks with Lady Hanna and Lady Marleigh.”
“Are you telling me, that our first time, will be two mid-twenty-odd-something summers old virgins, trying to sort each other out?” Clive asked with a laugh, that carried a note of panic as well, even though he tried to hide it.
Jill nodded with cheeks that starting to develop a pink hue. “That’s what it looks like.”
Still laughing, Clive shook his head. “God, I hope that Joshua never hears about that, cause neither of us will live this down.”
“By the Founder,” Jill exclaimed. “Your brother is the last one I would talk to about this and just as a warning - they might not look like it, but Wade and Tyler can be such gossipers. Give them your finger and you’ll lack your whole arm.”
Clive blinked. “Tyler too?” he asked surprised. “I would have thought that Lord Murdoch’s right hand would know better than to be a rumor monger.”
Jill turned in his arms. “Tyler is a bit like you,” she chuckled, before she rolled onto her knees and wrapped her arms around Clive’s neck, catching his lips in a long kiss, now that both of them had finished their meager breakfast.
“Like me?” Clive breathed, softly biting Jill’s lower lip, before running his tongue along the velvet skin, breathing in her scent and the small hitch in her breath, when he ran his hands up and down her sides. “How so?” He trailed his lips down her neck with a growl, latching onto her, sucking for a moment, but not hard enough to leave a mark, before letting his tongue glide over the very same spot afterwards.
“Calm, silent, very focused, but underneath it all…” she whispered. “Mischief and adventure.” The next moment, she was in Clive’s lap, their kisses turning passionate and open mouthed, soft moans and light growls mingling, when hands touched the weak spots, skimmed over sensitive parts and fingertips slid along bare skin.
“And you know that how?” Clive growled, his fingers digging into Jill’s soft hips, grinding her down onto his hardening length…
… and the next moment Ambrosia jumped to her feet and Clive found himself flat on his back, Jill sprawled on top of him, her chin digging into his shoulder. “Because he has the same kind of teasing talent as your brother and your chocobo!” she groaned into his leather jerkin, before she lifted her head and gave the hen a long, disapproving stare. “Ambrosia! Did you have to move now? Couldn’t you have given us five more minutes?”
“Makes you wonder if my father asked her to play chaperone,” Clive sighed. Whatever passion they had build up, had disappeared like a fog on a sunny day.
Sitting back up, Jill rolled off Clive and then brought herself back to her feet. “I wouldn’t put it past him,” she remarked, brushing the dust, dirt and grass of her clothing, while Clive did the same with his long cape. “After all I think your father knows well enough that these pressed herbs that the physicker gave me won’t prevent a pregnancy before I haven’t taken them for a week.”
Repacking their saddle bags, they checked on their camp site a last time to make sure, that they didn't leave anything relevant behind, before they swung back into the saddles and turned their chocobos in the rough direction of Eastpool. They wouldn't stop there, even though Clive wished he could, even to just thank Lady Hanna for all that she had done for his family when he was lost and and dead to the rest of the world. With the chocobos rested again, they made it past the small farmstead in no time and soon they were back on the wide fields, but unable to deny the creeping of the blight that came ever closer to these outlying towns. How longer would they have, until it swallow them whole, forcing the people to leave hearth and home behind?
Notes:
I'm not apologizing for that cockblock... although maybe I should... maybe that's why that chapter fought me on all ends.
I think it's clear at this point, that Jill is far more straight forward here than she is in the game and that is based on the fact, that she doesn't have the traumatic background of being a slave this time. She was raised as a strong, independent woman by Elwin and those around him. In game she was Clive's strength through their shared experience, now she is his strength because she was raised to be a queen... or a duchess. She also doesn't care about the social bindings of being a female and the way a lady should behave at court.
Sending Clive back to the front is for sure not a decision that Elwin made lightly, but one out of necessity. He knows that Joshua needs backup, which rules him out because what match is an aging, magicless Archduke against Bahamut, so that leaves Clive and Jill and where one goes, the other follows automatically. Elwin knows that Clive would need more time to recover, not physically but mentally but sometimes war doesn't let you do the thing that would be best for someone. There is no denying though, that Clive has still a long way to go to go, since the empire and his mother really did a number on his self-confidence, but he will get there.
What I also wanted to highlight with this chapter is, that things are sinking in slowly for Clive when it comes to Jill and Shiva and that now, that he has time to think, he starts to blame himself for Jill‘s fate because he believes he failed to protect them all. She‘s not having any of it, but for him, it is still a fact that things could have been avoided if he would have been stronger.
Chapter Text
Allowing the chocobos a small rest in the afternoon, they would reach their destination for sure by nightfall, but at this point, all thoughts of making out and romantic had fled their minds, since they were far out in the wilds now, where they had to keep eyes and ears open at all times. Torgal and the chocobos were alert and aware of the tension and soon they were back on the road again, the birds flying over paths, fields and plains.
The sun was about to set, when Clive saw the first braziers of the camp in the distance and with a nod, he and Jill drove their chocobos forward one last time, while Ambrosia released a shrill cry, that would serve as a long distance announcement that could not be ignored. For a moment Clive wasn't sure he hadn't gone deaf, the way his ears were ringing afterwards.
Soon the camp was in sight and Clive slowed Ambrosia down, allowing Jill to catch up. Yes, the soldiers should recognize him but he was better still careful. He had only been at the camp for a few days and most of the time, he had been asleep in the tent of the Lord Commander. Most of the soldiers had never really seen his face and even though everyone told him that his resemblance to his father was uncanny, it was not something he was able to rely on.
Jill's eyes met his for a moment, but just like in the weeks before, she seemed to be able to easily read him like no one else and with a nod, she took the lead towards the entrance, stopping her chocobo in the light of the fires that her face and that of Clive were clearly visible. Torgal barked and the guard nodded. "My Lord Marquess, my lady - the prince and the Lord Commander are in the war tent," he said after a quick salute. "Please, leave your chocobos with me. Magnus and I will see to it, that they are taken care of."
Slipping from the saddle, Clive nodded softly. "You have my thanks."
The soldier shook his head. "I didn't get to say it the last time, but it's good to have you back, my lord," he remarked, taking Ambrosia by the reins. "I'm serving the duchy as a shield since two decades now and we all were there, when the Archduke returned from Phoenix Gate. Since then, the duchy has been under an invisible pall, that never seemed to lift. It was subtle, but now that you are here, it is clear, how much your family missed you and grieved for you."
Looking back and forth between Jill and the shield, Clive took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that it took me so long to return," he replied finally. "I wish I could have spared my family that pain and suffering."
"You all suffered enough for a lifetime, and while I hate the Empire for creeping up on us again, I'm glad that it brought you home, my lord," the shield said, before he lead the chocobos away and Clive took a deep breath.
"Are you all right?" Jill asked softly, and Clive had to keep himself from reaching out to thread her fingers through his, to feel the warmth of her skin against his own. They were no longer in Rosalith. He had to focus, since here there were other things at stake and so he gave Jill a short nod and a smile and when she returned it, he moved through the camp towards the tent in the center, that was surrounded by even more braziers, the crest of the Phoenix woven into the fabric, red thread cutting through the black fabric like blood. Clive could hear the raised voices from the distance already and he frowned at Jill. Two of the voices were Joshua and Lord Murdoch, but the others were those of their generals mixed into, partially loud so they could be heard even above the prince and the Lord Commander.
With a frown Clive threw the flaps of the tent to the side, and stepped inside, before he held it open for Jill to follow him. The conversation and what seemed like discussions and arguments died in the very moment and everyone had turned their heads to the entrance and the two standing there.
"Who allowed you to come inside unbidden, Branded?"
"General Whitley, if I have to remind you a third time about the fact, that you are addressing the Lord Marquess like this, you have been a General in the Rosarian Army for the longest time, have I made myself clear?" Lord Murdoch snarled icily. "Per the Archdukes last missive, the Lord Marquess has been reinstated with his rank inside the duchy and our military forces and with that, he is outranking everyone in this tent, aside from His Highness - the Phoenix - and myself."
Clive shook his head and lifted a hand. "I think we have bigger problems at hand right now, than my title," he remarked. "The Archduke did send us both in case a show of strength is needed towards the imperial forces. Lady Warrick will not take the field, if we can avoid it. For now the brunt of the presence will lie on the Phoenix and Ifrit."
Joshua nodded. "Father did sent a stolas ahead to announce your arrival."
"Any changes here since your last message?" Jill asked, stepping around the generals now to stand besides Joshua and the Lord Commander, while Clive took Joshua's other side.
"Nothing of note," Joshua said with a shake of his head, before he picked up a map that had been put to the side and pulled it over the one they had on the table. "The empire is still pulling all troops in, letting the battalions march up and down their perimeter. Bahamut hasn't taken to the skies yet, but by the amount of foot soldiers and riding units, they try to rely more on these units."
Clive frowned. "Maybe they hope to overwhelm the camp in general and take you out, before you have the time to prime and wipe them all from the board.”
Joshua sighed. "At this point, I'm not sure if any plan of the empire makes any sense at all," he remarked, drawing his finger along a line of the map. The line that was the borders been their two nations. "I still can't understand why they even tried to attack us."
"On first sight, Rosaria was the easier target for sure," Jill remarked, her arms crossed in front of her chest. "Only one Dominant and an inexperienced one on top - no offense, Joshua - and Dhalmekia has already proven, that they won't show any support towards the duchy, if the empire starts an invasion. Dhalmekia as a target has a Dominant that is nothing but raw brutality and strength. Even Bahamut would have problems standing against Titan. Twinside would be a more appealing target, since they have no Dominant in their defense at all, but they also lack fertile lands and obviously Sylvestre values that non-aggression treaty a bit more, than what was agreed on in the Remembrance Ceremony all those years ago." Looking up, Jill's eyes found Clive's. "The plan would have worked, if Clive hadn't presented himself as another Dominant on our side."
"If we want to deter them from another attack, we have to show them a certain presence," Lord Murdoch suggested and Clive knew exactly what he meant.
"What do you think, Joshua?" Clive chuckled. "If Lord Murdoch lends me his chocobo, how about we take a late night ride along our borders with some of our very own torches?"
The smirk upon Joshua's face was nearly painfully wide. "Lead the way, brother," he grinned and together with the Lord Commander and Jill, they made their way to the pen, where they had their chocobos and with some help and quick hands they had the birds saddled up and ready to go. It was after the Lord Commander had returned to the war tent, that Joshua turned around and looked back and forth between Clive and Jill, the grin now shifting to something more teasing.
“The two of you seem to have hit off well with each other,” he remarked with a chuckle, but then his eyes grew wide, a sense of panic creeping into them, when he seemed to notice, that somewhere while they had worked, Jill's fingers had interlocked with Clive's in the feathers of the yellow bird and they held onto each other. “Oh, by the flames, don’t tell me you hit off THAT well!”
“Joshua!” Jill hissed and to Clive’s dismay, neither he nor Jill could stop their cheeks from being dusted in a very dark pink. Joshua didn’t need a spoken answer, if their faces told everything without a doubt.
Taking a deep breath, Joshua shook his head. "Just, keep it on the downlow in the camp, that everyone else can sleep."
"Joshua!" Clive snarled. "We would never…"
"Smooching makes sounds too, you know," Joshua protested and with a shake of his head, Clive jumped onto the chocobo's back, taking up the reins, before releasing a small orb of fire into the air, that hovered over them like a lantern. Joshua climbed up as well, and mirrored Clive's gesture, summoning another flickering flame caught inside an unseen sphere of aether. They would patrol the borders, show the empire that the second Dominant was back and that Bahamut would not have an easy game of conquering Rosaria. If he even could, for he did not know of their last line of defense. The Ice Queen that was lost with the disappearance of the Northern Territories.
The next morning found Clive on a bedroll on the ground next to his brother's cot and that of Jill. Having run out of cots, Clive insisted that a bedroll would do for him, as long as he could stick close to Jill and his brother. Wade and Tyler had both offered at once to give up one of theirs, but Clive had politely declined. He would definitely not admit to either of them, that his back did not forgive him that transgression after having been blessed with a real bed for a month. How fast someone could get used to the comfortable things in life.
He had patrolled the border with Joshua until the early morning hours, before lying down to sleep and by the sound of the camp around him, he had slept a lot longer than planned. Opening his eyes, he noticed right away, that Jill's cot was empty, but Joshua was still with him, huddled underneath his blanket and breathing deeply. For a moment, Clive was torn between staying with Joshua and just wait until he was needed, or someone decided that the Phoenix was needed, and getting up to find Jill, steal a kiss or two from her and then look for some breakfast.
The decision was made for him the moment he had gotten up, and Joshua began to move on his bed, turning around and blinking sleepily in his direction. He looked like something the cat brought in, after having dragged it backwards through all bushes between the camp and Rosalith. “Good morning,” Clive chuckled softly, and Joshua’s reply was lost in the mumbling, when he buried his face back into his pillow. Joshua had never been a morning person and that obviously had never changed. Chuckling Clive decided to give him a few more minutes while he went to wash, but a soft voice held him back, the words no longer obscured by linen and whatever it was, they had stuffed the pillow with.
“I missed you. The first weeks after I woke up were the worst. I always wanted to turn around and ask you for advice or an opinion or when I was scared, but you were never there. I walked into your room, because I thought I’d find you on the couch, reading a book but all that greeted me was cold and emptiness. I was a child in the body of a young adult and the person I needed the most was gone.”
Clive took a shaking breath, heart beating painfully in his chest and his blood rushing in his ears, pulse drumming against his neck. He felt sick with guilt. He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t face him. “I’m sorry, Joshua,” he whispered, realizing that he had lost count of how often he had said that in the last month. “For not protecting you from myself. For hurting you like this, for leaving you alone after everything I did.”
Joshua sighed and Clive heard the shuffling of boots on the ground, before he felt a warm hand in the center of his back, the healing flames of the Phoenix washing over him. There was nothing to heal, but definitely a lot of doubts to ease and a lot of fears to soothe. "It was never your fault, brother," Joshua whispered softly. "We both were out of control that night."
Frowning for a moment, Clive turned around. "Can I ask you a question about that night?"
"Of course."
"What made you prime?" Clive repeated. "I knew you couldn't control the Phoenix by the way you held him."
Sitting back down on the cot, Joshua signed Clive to take a seat next to him and he too took a deep breath. "After we had split from you and Lord Murdoch, we went for the chocobos and prepared them to head out, when a group of shields arrived. Of course we thought them allies, since we didn't know that they had infiltrated our ranks. The attacked us and father was hurt." His voice caught in his throat and Clive drew soothing circles over his back with his fingertips. It seemed as if Joshua was fighting with some old hurts and traumas as well. "He was lying there in his blood and all I could do, was remembering the promise that I had given you. That I would protect father and I had failed. And in my despair..."
"...you primed," said Clive, completing the sentence with a long drawn out sigh. "I should have never made you promise. It was a mistake to put that burden onto your shoulders. I wanted to help you, to give you the strength and the determination that you could protect our father. I never thought that it would be the catalyst for your prime. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Joshua replied. "I would have primed with or without the promise, I think. I was just a boy, afraid and alone."
"Because I wasn't there."
"Wade and Tyler were there and they couldn't do anything either," he countered, hands still folded underneath his gloves. "You wouldn't have made a difference either. Quite the opposite. If you had been there, maybe we wouldn't have this conversation. Maybe you wouldn't have made it out, when the flames of the Phoenix engulfed the yard. Maybe you would have never primed and I would have your life on my consciousness. I can't bear that thought."
For a while, both of them just sat there next to each other, not saying a word but each chasing his own thoughts, when Jill entered the tent, before sitting down next to Clive without a word. By the way she simply took his hand and slotted her fingers between his, Clive was sure that she had been waiting in front of the tent for a while, had most likely heard their whole conversation and had tried to find the best moment to not interrupt.
Joshua looked up again, his eyes wandering back and forth between Clive and Jill for a second, lingering on their joined hands for a moment. “What made you prime though?” he asked. “Was it fear or anger?”
Clive frowned, his eyes concentrating on a small spot of dirt on the threadbare carpet, that was their tent floor, the warmth of Jill’s hand spreading along his own. How could she always be warmer than him, despite being the Warden of Ice? “No, it wasn’t fear or anger,” he said after a while. “When I think back to that night... It was… pain. But, there was something else...” Pushing himself off the cot, Clive crossed his arms in front of his chest, wandering up and down the small tent. "When I got separated from the Lord Commander, I saw a hooded man in the yard. Not a shield or a priest of Greagor, even though he did wear a cowl - but not that any should have been there in the first place. But that's not it... I saw him and he said something and a blink later, he was just gone. As if he had never been there in the first place." Losing his stance, Clive ran his hands through his hairs. "What was it he said?" he murmured, going through his memories, sorting them one by one. "We have found you..."
"We have found you?" Joshua repeated with a raised brow. "What is that suppose to mean? Found you? Why? I mean, it's not as if you were unknown in Rosaria as the Archduke's firstborn son."
For a while all three of them just pondered about what Clive had said, but then Jill shook her head. "Once this useless march of forces is over, we should go back there. Go back to Phoenix Gate," she said and the steel in her voice was undeniable. Steel and ice. "In the light of what Clive just told us, we need to know what happened. Investigate the ruins."
Clive turned around, Jill's words repeating itself in his head. "Investigating the ruins?" he asked.
Joshua nodded with a long sigh, before he leaned back and held himself upright with his hands on the cot. "Phoenix Gate was never rebuilt and the aqueduct never finished. Unfortunately in the light of the attack, the treachery that led to it and the later invasion of the Ironblood, neither was a priority any longer. Father concentrated on the defense and the rebuilding of our forces to protect the people. All plans to retake Drake's Breath are still on hold as well. Sure it would be easy with two Dominants, but Father didn't want to risk either of us,” Joshua signed to himself and Jill. “And especially not after the bold involvement of the Empire in the events thirteen years ago."
"You have never been back?"
Jill and Joshua both shook their heads. "And without a crusade, there was no need for communion in the Apodytery either," Joshua replied with a shrug, blowing a strand of hair from his face. "And all of this here..." He made a wide gesture with his arms. "Wasn't exactly planned."
"Fortunately, it has been a siege without bloodshed so far," Jill remarked with a relieved sigh, before she smiled softly at Clive. "And it brought you back to us."
"Most likely the last thing mother ever wished for me, when she gave me to the imperials," Clive mused. "She wanted me dead and here I am, back home with those I love more than my own life."
Joshua smiled softly, before he pushed himself off the cot and squeezed his shoulder. "And we are more than glad to have you back. Wade and Tyler are fantastic shields and have been exceptional protectors, but none of them is my brother, because that is what you are first and foremost. My brother."
Clive chuckled, before he wrapped his own hand around Joshua's and returned the squeeze. "Am I really that obvious?" he asked, nodding towards Jill.
Smiling Jill got up as well, before she brushed her lips with a soft kiss over his cheek, mindful of Joshua. "You might have a permanent scowl on your face, but those who know you can read you. The boy that left for Phoenix Gate is still inside you and that is what we recognize in you."
"Thank you," Clive whispered softly, but before he could return Jill's small gesture, he heard raised voices outside of the tent and frowned. An expression that was mirrored by Jill and his brother, and they all reached out to their respective armor pieces, getting dressed in a hurry, helping each other with those pieces that required more than one hand.
Wade was expecting them, when they emerged from the tent only a few moments later. "My lords, my lady, we have movement on the border. The imperials are marching towards us and our frontlines have reported back, that the prince is among them."
"So our little show of strength last night didn't deter them from doing something stupid," Clive remarked with a shake of his head. "The empire cares naught for the lives of her soldiers or her prince. Or should I say, the emperor and his empress."
"Nothing surprising, considering the way the duchess regarded you," Jill snarled. "But the fact that the emperor seems to be treating his own flesh in the same way is worrying. I just can't remember if he has always been this cold... and cruel."
"Who's to say what we knew and know of the man now," Lord Murdoch remarked, when he caught the last of the conversation as they stepped into the war tent in the center of the camp.
The tactical conversations didn't take up much time, since everyone was agreeing that all they could do, was waiting to see what the imperials would do in the end. The Rosarians would not start this conflict. Sanbreque had to break the fickle peace they had and so Clive and Joshua returned to the frontlines, staying in sight of the opposite forces that they could see the Dominants waiting for them. Jill had remained a good distance behind them and out of sight. She would not prime unless both - Clive and Joshua would be taken out and they doubted, that this would ever happen. Not with Ifrit's rage and anger over the last thirteen years still burning like the fires of hell. And Shiva and the Phoenix shared that sentiment.
One after the other, both armies began to pull their soldiers to the lines and yet it stayed a stalemate, with neither moving. They would rotate the soldiers to rest and the Rosarians did the same with their dominants, with either Clive directly at the line or Joshua. Jill would always be there out of sight, but she as well did rest in between. It was nerve wracking and tiring. It was a war of attrition and with supplies arriving from Eastpool and Martha's Rest, Rosaria was better prepared for it, than the empire. Their nearest outposts did send support as well, but their lines were still longer.
Clive wasn't sure at one point anymore, why the empire did not give the order to attack. They had already started aggressions against Rosaria twice. Why did they hesitate now?
The crown prince did appear and disappear from the frontlines as well, but so far had not made a move to prime. Was he trying to search for a way out of this, that would not send him into an open conflict with his father. Clive had met the prince only once all these years ago and he had gotten along with the boy just fine, even if the five year age difference had hit their interactions hard. That and the fact, that Clive had been nothing more but Joshua's shield.
It was after five days of rotating and tense guarding, that Clive felt the pull in the aether like a flame in the darkest night. It was as if the aether was vibrating and Clive frowned, while he walked from the fire he and Joshua had been sitting on to the units at the front, ordering with fast gestures to move back and give them more space. They would not need to send for Jill. With this little distance, she could feel the shift just as well as they could.
And then the aether exploded and Bahamut rose into the dawning sky, a massive winged form and shape against the morning sun, aether pedals floating and glittering before disappearing and with a nod to Joshua, Clive moved farther away from their own troops and towards one end of their field.
And that was, when he felt it. Dion was still pulling aether, never stopping and he frowned. Normally that much aether was only used for a massive attack. Did he try to gather as much aether as possible to break through Joshua's shield? Clive and his brother had planned to use the same tactic as the last time, but if Bahamut tried to counter that, they would have to think fast and so Clive allowed the aether to infuse him, to wash through him like a tidal wave, allowed it to fill him up and Ifrit reached for it and Clive let himself fall deep into the Eikon underneath his fingertips, into Ifrit's inferno. Fingers became claws, mouth turned into a snout and Clive felt his tail lash against the earth, his voice a roar that could shatter eardrums just like his hands could grind bones to dust.
The Phoenix rose next to him, green and red wings spread out, the feathers catching the light and reflecting it, the crystal on his chest glowing in a bright blue. His shrill cry pierced the air and with a few strong sweeps of his feathers, he was above their troops, ready to shield them and protect them from whatever attack they had to face.
Leaving his place at the side, Clive moved into the middle of the field, yet stayed on the Rosarian side, before calling out through the aether, his voice a roar for all those not doomed to suffer the curse's fate. "Prince Dion, please - this is madness. You can not believe to be able to stand against two dominants," Clive said, his voice calm and collected, belying the turmoil he felt inside. He didn't want to fight the boy. He didn't want spill even more blood. "This does not have to end like this."
"The emperor's wish is my order," Dion called. "Great Greagor wills it."
"Prince Dion, don't tell me you believe in all of this," Clive replied with a growl. "Drop your prime and I will do the same and then look me in the eye and tell me, that you believe that what you are doing right now is justified. We should not stand here and spill the blood of our people, for our biggest foe is not each other but the Blight that takes away more and more of our lands each day."
"And this is why we must unite our nations," Dion replied, but Clive could hear the tremor in his voice, the shaking of the words.
"A war of conquest will only hasten the Blight, for no nation is relinquishing their lands voluntarily. Prince Dion, please, there has to be another..."
Bahamut's roar swallowed Clive's remaining words and instead he heard Joshua call out to him. "The amount of aether he has at his disposal now is... If he uses that with a point attack, the shield won't hold. I can't pull that much aether to match him. I would most likely lose consciousness before. I don't know how he is able to pull that amount."
Clive frowned, his muzzle releasing a growl, his mind racing. "He build the ability up over the countless battles with Odin," he realized, throat releasing a bark. "He had to prime time and time against Tharmr. He has an amount of practice, that we both are lacking."
A low trill slipped over the beak of the Phoenix. "The curse must have taken hold of his body already," he whispered, and Clive could feel the compassion and sorrow like a low note of mourning in the firebird's song.
"Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to care." Clive flexed his claws into fists, trying to see the boy behind the dragon - the boy he had met at the ceremony and that had been so similar to his little brother. Righteous, honest and friendly, always willing to help and with a sense of justice that had been unmatched. Had the war changed him like this? Clive couldn't think further, the aether now thick between Bahamut's wings and he wouldn't be able to hold it back for much longer.
Gathering the aether underneath his hands, Clive began to build an attack of his own. "Joshua, hold the shield as good as you can, without endangering yourself," he ordered, his eyes never leaving Bahamut. "Maybe I can interrupt or spread his attack when I intercept it with Ifrit's Hellfire. If it's weaker or wider apart, the shield might hold. Still, we should move the units back!"
Clive could hear the Phoenix release two short trills and the soldiers began to set their formation away from the border, following the commands they had told them before. This was going to end bad in one way or another and Clive could see no other way out of it. As long as Dion wasn't willing to listen, they could do nothing else but defend. The Hellfire began to burn underneath his claws and he felt the heat grow relentlessly.
Suddenly Bahamut stopped pulling the aether underneath his wings and Clive cursed, barely able to release his own attack in time. He roared against the incoming flare of light, but he knew, that all he could do was holding it back, weakening it and the blinding stream of light crashed against his inferno, cutting into it, burning through it, no matter how hard Clive tried to hold against it.
"Clive, let go! I can take it!" Joshua's voice was a shaking cry underneath the Phoenix's shrill call and yet, Clive knew that the attack was still too strong, that the shield still would not hold it. He had to endure, had to keep the Hellfire alive for as long as he could. Bahamut roared in anger and he felt the dragon pull upon the aether again, strengthening his own attack.
Did he really not care about his soldiers that were about to be caught in the crossfire, if the shield reflected his attack once again? If the stream of light broke and Clive's inferno would come crashing down on them. He didn't want these men to die. Yes, the empire had done horrible things to him, he had done horrible things in the name of the empire, but that didn't mean they all had to die.
Bahamut pressed forward, shortened the distance between himself and the inferno ahead of him with a stroke of his wings and Clive growled in anger, feeling how the light began to dissolve the inferno from with in... and then it broke, the beam breaking through fire and flame as if it was nothing.
Mind racing, Clive reacted out of instinct and sent the Hellfire forth towards his opponent, now that it was no longer useful as a protection, praying that Joshua's shield would hold, would protect him and their soldiers alike and he let go of his prime, falling out of the direct range of the stream of light that now hit the blue wall behind him and Joshua screamed against the impact, the Phoenix's cry a wake up call, that this was not over.
The moment his feet were back on the muddy ground, Clive ran forward, pulling on the aether with renewed determination and even though his body roared in protest against it, his bones cracking, tendons stretching and Ifrit sprang forward once again, now close enough that with one massive jump he was at the same height as Bahamut, grabbing the dragons neck, before crashing both of them into the dirt. Dion lost the grip on his prime upon the impact and Clive let go of his own, placing himself between the prince of Sanbreque and the soldiers of Rosaria, the Phoenix still hovering above them, although he had dropped the shield.
Clive knew that Joshua was exhausted, he was too and only a moment after, the Phoenix disappeared in a pillar of flames, Joshua kneeling in the dirt behind him.
Drawing his sword, Clive held the blade in a loose stance at his side, eyes fixating on Dion. "Is this really what you want?" Clive asked, out of breath and exhausted. If he already felt like this, Dion had to be on the brink of collapsing. He had pulled way more aether than Clive and Joshua together and yet he held himself straight in front of him with his polearm in hand like the royalty that he was. Clive had to admit, that he was impressed at his demeanor, by his will and determination. Yet it would bring him naught in a fight one on one. "Tell me, that all the stories I heard about you in the imperial barracks and the camps are untrue. The stories that speak of your honor and kindness, your selflessness and sense for justice. The crown prince that had such lofty ideals for it's empire. Look me in the eye and tell me, that the boy I met at the Remembrance Ceremony has grown into nothing more but the emperor's weapon, without thinking for himself. Tell me, that you are just Bahamut and not Dion Lesage."
Dion took a shaking breath, his fingers curling around his polearm, the leather creaking underneath the pressure, the metal plates of his gloves grinding against each other. "You know nothing about me," he replied coldly, but Clive could hear a tremble in his voice. The same unease he'd already noticed in Bahamut's growl.
"I had to serve your legions for thirteen years, your Highness," Clive sighed and he couldn't keep the regret from bleeding into his voice. "At one point I knew more about you and your life, than I knew about my own family. My father and my brother."
"If you know me so well, then you know, I can not defy the Holy Emperor's orders," Dion replied.
"But even you have to realize, that this is an act of war and you stand now against two Dominants in Rosaria, three in Waloed and one in Dhalmekia. You are surrounded," Clive reasoned. "And Rosaria will not fall into your hands without a fight."
"Unfortunately, then a fight is what we will have."
Clive barely had the chance to react, when Dion turned his polearm and thrust it in his direction, meeting the blade of the sword with a loud clang. He felt the vibrations in his arm, pushing the lance to the side, before turning, gathering fire underneath his hand and he send the spell forward, driving Dion back enough, so he could start an advance on his own, the wing of the Phoenix underneath his hand reacting readily and the translucent feathers burned along Dion's amor and threw him in the air.
But Clive had to remind himself for a moment, who he was fighting, since his opponent was not normal, was not the usual Waloeder soldier or the occasional footpad, that the empire had them hunt down sometimes. This was the Dominant of Bahamut and he had his own tricks up his sleeve. Bahamut's wings caught Dion's fall and he could feel him gathering the aether, concentrating it and with a scream, four spheres of light began to circle Clive, using his blind spots and he could feel them burn over his back and shoulders, hitting his arms and legs and Clive had to fight against the pain to keep hold of his own blade.
But Dion was not the only one with those kinds of tricks, and Ifrit needed not to be asked twice. Motes of fire burst forward, catching the motes of light, dancing with them, protecting Clive and he pushed forward, once again locking his blade with the polearm of the crown prince. And then he heard it - the Phoenix's shrill cry, another harsh pull on the aether and Clive turned, when his brother primed again, throwing the shield up against the advancing imperial troops who had begun to ready the their catapults. They had brought siege artillery, that was normally used against castles, armed with large chunks of crystal, mined from their respective mothers.
"By the flames," Clive breathed, barely able to escape another incoming blow and he dance to the side, allowing the lance to glide along his blade with the scream of metal on metal, before he pulled on the aether again. Calling on Ifrit he allowed the flames to surround his body and infuse every fibre of his being, before he pushed forward, driving Dion into the direction of his advancing troops. He had to stop this fight, before they could bring the siege catapults into range for the Phoenix. Slamming Dion onto his back with a well, placed elbow into his stomach, he gathered the flames of the Phoenix and the inferno of Ifrit underneath his hand, before sending them in quick succession into the air, the reddish blue disappearing before the fiery orange.
But that one short spell had cost him the advance he had worked out for himself and Dion was on him again in a heartbeat, gathering the aether underneath his hands again and Clive had to throw himself to the side to avoid the flare of light that was trying to swallow him like a fog rising from the rivers in the morning hours. He cursed, using the Phoenix's flame to shift out of the way. The amount of aether that Dion was pulling was worrying and he didn't know, what drove the prince to be so adamant, but he knew that soon enough, he would no longer be able to keep it up. How could he not feel the strain of the aether burning through his body?
Clive himself had never felt the curse like this, but he had spoken enough with his three comrades and he had fought with them enough, to know how horrible the pain was, that the curse could inflict on a Bearer. The stabbing pain inside, as if a hot poker was driven through one's body and then ripped out again, the growing patches of stone that were often just the last stage, the tissue and the organs afflicted long before already. Some Branded were lucky, and developed the skin condition first and were still healthy enough underneath, but it was a more than rare thing to happen.
Clive deflected another incoming blow, catching the motes of light with a wing of the Phoenix, before gathering their power underneath his sword, sending them back in a volley of razor-sharp blades made of fire and flame, that cut through tissue and magic all the same. Dion staggered and once again pushing his advantage, Clive shifted forward, locking blades at first, before reaching deep inside again and he let the flames spring forward, wings sprouting from his back and curling inside, and Clive gathered the firestorm between them and himself, before spreading the feathers wide and unleash it unto the Warden of Light without holding back.
Dion's scream of surprise and pain was drowned by the roaring flames around them both and Clive clung to them for as long as he could, before he let go of the wings, allowing Dion to crash onto the dirty ground without catching him.
But Clive didn't wait, didn't give him a chance to breathe, because while Dion was in fact a lot better trained in primed combat, Clive had been through way more hours of combat with the blade and smaller spells alone. This was his domain, and even though Dion had strong magic at his disposal without actually priming, a lot of that magic was useless, if he didn't have the room to cast it and Clive had no desire to give him even the smallest bit of space.
It had to end and it had to end now. For Dion, for Clive and for the armies at their back, waiting only for the command - the command that would begin the bloodshed. He couldn't let that happen. If Dion was taken out, not even killed, maybe it would stall their advance, would prove them, that the empire had nothing against the duchy.
And Clive didn't want to kill him, for it felt as if he would slit the throat of his own brother. Dion was not his father or his stepmother, Dion was not the high ranking noble, who had been allowed and found pleasure in picking random Branded from their lines and have them hunted and whipped for sport, Dion was not the superior officer, who had sent the Bastards onto the frontlines, resulting in Clive's capture and the days of pain and agony that followed, Dion was not the torture master, who had marked his face for all eternity for everyone to see, and sometimes Clive had to remind himself of this.
He shifted again and closed the distance to the crown prince, kicked the polearm out of reach. So close, Clive could feel the aether around Dion gathering, but it felt different than before. Bahamut's light was frayed in the aether, weak and flickering. Something was wrong and somehow right. It was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, but Clive reached forward, intend on grabbing Dion at his collar to get him back onto his feet...
... and suddenly the aether shifted underneath this hands, he felt it swirling back and forth, Bahamut's light mingling with it... and then it broke through the constraints it should have, and Clive felt it wrap itself around his outstretched arm, burning it's way inside and Ifrit reared up, catching it between his claws, taking it and the pain became unbearable. Clive could still remember the way the Blessing had felt all these years ago, but it had felt like a warm embrace, feathered wings wrapping itself around him, a small flame settling in his chest, that could grow into a raging fire.
This now, whatever it was supposed to be, felt as if someone tried to rip him apart from the inside, tried to burn away something - anything - to make room and Clive didn't even feel the aetherflow stopping. All his senses could take in was the blinding agony, his muscles spasming, a tortured scream piercing his ears.
His last conscious thought was the realization, that the scream had been his own.
Notes:
I swear I will explain Dion‘s behavior at one point.
Chapter 9: After the Storm
Notes:
No lie, you all have absolutely blown me away with your responses to the last chapter and you definitely made my whole week with it. Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and leaving kudos! You all are way too precious! Thank you!
Chapter Text
Joshua had known that things went awry the moment, the aether had begun to shift around Clive and Dion. He saw the specks of light dancing between the two men, snaking round Clive's outstretched arm, before settling in his chest. Joshua allowed the shield to fall and then sailed forward, when Clive's piercing cry of pain made him drop his prime and land on his feet running to get to his brother. He felt both primes deep in his bones, felt them like fire, but he had to get to Clive, had to protect him from whatever had happened.
Clive's scream stopped the moment he fell to his knees, slumping to his side bonelessly and Joshua had a bad sense of Deja-Vu from the five weeks before, when Clive had returned to them, simply losing consciousness out of exhaustion. But this was something different, for Joshua had felt the ripple in the aether like a knife being stabbed through fabric.
Thankfully Clive and Dion had gone down far away enough from both of their armies, but Joshua could see the empire approach with swift steps, while Dion tried to regain his footing, shaking and trembling, as if his exhaustion started to catch up with his beaten body. Going to his knees next to Clive, Joshua was about to get him onto his back, when Dion managed to get to his feet and then stumbled backwards. His gloved hand went to his chest, clawing into the chainmail, his voice a whisper.
"Something is wrong," he rasped and they both realized a second later what it was.
Groaning in pain, Clive came back around, coughing while he rolled onto his knees and elbows. He stayed there on his four limbs, trying to breathe through the shaking and trembling of his body, his spine arching against the pain and in this very moment, the ethereal wings of Bahamut unfurled on his back, cutting through the air in strong strokes, before they disappeared and Clive sat back on his haunches, sweat soaked strands of black hair plastered to his face.
"What... what happened?" he asked, his voice slurring yet steading with every carefully articulated word, but then everything else he had wanted to say, trailed off when he raised his hands, realizing the sparkling light that danced around his gloved fingers, changing from white to teal and back again. For a moment, time seemed to stop between all of them, each staring at the swirls that danced around Clive's hand as if it had always belonged there.
"How...? Why do you have Bahamut?" Dion's eyes were wide in shock and dismay and Clive shook his head, as if he tried to clear his thoughts. "Why is he with you and no longer with me?"
Joshua had to admit, that in their horror, they hadn't realized how far the imperial troops had been closing in, that they had crossed the borders to Rosaria and had witnessed their Prince's downfall and Clive's last action.
"Bahamut has been stolen!"
"Protect the prince! Kill the Rosarians!"
Orders were shouted over each other, and Joshua grabbed Clive under the arm, hauling him to his feet. It only took his older brother a moment to come to his senses and his head went from one side to the other, and he could see Clive going through all options they had in that moment. Their soldiers were still further away than the imperial ones and those were out of blood, that was for sure. And Joshua couldn't really blame them, considering Clive had done the unthinkable and absorbed their eikon - their champion.
Drawing back towards their own lines, Joshua could feel Dion and Clive pull on the aether likewise, but no matter how hard Dion tried, he seemed to be grasping into nothingness, while Clive was indeed able to reach for the aether and hold it, but it was a sluggish move and he stumbled, going down on one knee.
Suddenly though, the advance of the imperial soldiers stopped and then Joshua felt another massive shift in the aether, but not Clive, who still pulled despite his absolute and utter exhaustion. No, the feeling had grown cold this time and when Joshua turned around, he had to admit that he was stunned for a moment. Snow was being drawn from thin air and converged into a massive ice crystal atop of them and there was no doubt in what was going on.
Jill had read their situation the right way and she had known, that they would never risk the lives of their soldiers. Before losing one life of those that served them, they would rather reveal their last trump card and that was, what Jill was doing. Protecting their men. The ice crystal above them broke apart and Shiva emerged from it, the white cape floating in the wind, when she came to above them. Snow was swirling around her hand and in one last show of strength, Joshua released the firebird and rose to the skies, his wings stretching wide in the same moment that Clive finally stopped the pull, and primed with a roar that seemed to be a mix out of sheer frustration and exhaustion.
It was Dion, who made the only wise decision in that moment and Joshua could hear him call out to stop the advance, and with one last look at Clive, he ordered his men to retreat. There were some discussions, but the clear bark of Dion's voice silenced those and the units withdrew, while Dion stayed until all his soldiers had returned to imperial land and Joshua could only imagine how much power and strength it did cost him to simply stay on his feet. A group of dragoons remained around him at all times and took him into their middle, when they marched back to their camp.
Joshua, Jill and Clive stayed primed for as long as they could, but Joshua and Jill dropped their prime soon after, Joshua going to his knees for a few moments, before Wade picked him up and draped his arm across his shoulder. Tyler was standing next to Jill, who looked none the worse for wear, her eyes still sweeping over the retreating imperial legions.
And then, Clive let go of Ifrit as well, the massive Eikon disappearing and he landed hard on his knees. Nodding to Wade, the shield let go of Joshua in the next moment and together with Tyler, he hurried over to Clive, while Joshua followed in a slower pace, his muscles and bones still disagreeing with the priming and the long holding of the shield. If Clive felt as bad, as he looked, then Joshua was sure, he would sleep through at least the night and maybe the next day. "How do you feel, brother?" he asked, when he was close enough, Wade and Tyler to either side of Clive, Jill in front, her hands on his upper arms to hold him steady.
Clive smiled weakly, although the smile was more akin to a grimace. "Tired," he replied softly.
Jill frowned. "And Bahamut? What happened there?"
"I don't know." Clive took a deep breath, before he straightened his back and when he nodded, Jill made a careful step away from him. He was still pale and the sweat was dripping from his chin, but he was no longer swaying back and forth as if he was about to lose consciousness again. Frowning he tapped on his chest. "But I can feel the light of Bahamut inside. It's there, next to the flames of the Phoenix and the inferno of Ifrit."
"But?" Joshua asked carefully.
Clive signed towards the camp. "Let's talk in the tent. My knees still feel as if they are made of butter, even though my head has stopped swimming," he suggested and Joshua nodded, while he turned to Wade and Tyler. "Place guards to keep an eye on the imperials. Hold one unit here and rotate them, that they get enough rest."
"And tell them to keep their eyes open for small units," Jill added. "I wouldn't put it past them to try to infiltrate our camp with a smaller group to get their hands on Clive to find out what he did with Bahamut and how to get their Eikon back again." For a moment there was a drawn out silence between them, and Jill frowned. "Can you actually give him back?"
"Ask me a question I can answer," Clive sighed.
They walked back in silence, while Wade and Tyler took care of the shields behind them, setting up watch shifts and sending out scouts, but Joshua could do nothing else but mull over what had just happened. He had blamed Clive's ability to hold his own Eikon and the Blessing of the Phoenix onto the fact that they both were Eikons of Fire, or on the fact that nobody had ever tried to bless another Eikon since the other Dominants didn't give Blessings. It was a tradition solely practiced in Rosaria.
But taking in an Eikon of a completely different element, the way Clive had done it, was unheard. Joshua frowned, looking at his brothers broad back in front of him, softly talking to Jill and explaining to her what happened. The Lord Commander and the other generals were waiting in the war tent and so they gave them the same account and Joshua didn't know how to describe what he saw in the eyes of these men, who had seen countless battles when they had fought against the north, who had seen war.
There was shock and surprise for sure, but also a certain tension that was compromised of fear and indignation, as if Clive was... Joshua didn't want to use the word, not even unspoken and only in his head, and for a moment he had to remember the Ironblood and their faith. His own Generals viewed Clive like a monster... an abomination, and despite the fact, that he held his head high, he could see in Clive's eyes, that he was very much aware of that fact. It was most likely also a look that Clive was used to.
And it weren't only Clive and Joshua who noticed this, since he saw the same frown in the faces of Jill and the Lord Commander. If the Brand and Ifrit hadn't already made Clive an outcast, the events right now for sure had done the rest. "That was a lot to swallow for sure," the Lord Commander said after a minute, his eyes going from one of the generals to the next. "With this change in situation, we have to adapt and we have to adapt fast, since the reveal of three Eikons in our duchy will make us a threat to every other nation and I'm sure that it also paints a target on Clive's back. Not only for the fact that he is a Dominant himself, but also because it seems that he can render an enemy dominant obsolete, by taking their power."
"And it's not only that," Jill added. "With this revelation, the danger for Clive is now threefold. The Brand is already one problem, since without one of us with him or a clear marker who he belongs to," Jill spat the sentence out like venom. "He is at a constant risk as being treated as a slave, maybe even grabbed and sold. And with his ability to take other EIkons, other nations might either want to take him off the board entirely by killing him, or they try to take him for themselves and force him into their services."
"The latter will never happen," Clive growled, his eyes dark and Joshua could feel the aether start to grow hot around him in anger. Ifrit's anger and Clive's likewise. "Before I raise a hand for another nation than Rosaria ever again, I'll kill myself."
"Let's make sure, that it never comes to that," Lord Murdoch soothed, a frown on his face, his eyes telling Joshua that he was just as shocked about the fact, how easy Clive was willing to throw his life away, than Joshua himself was. "We just got you back home and I think I speak for more than one person, if I say, that we'd rather keep you alive."
The smile that was twitching around Clive's lips was small, weak and tired. "Thank you," he said softly. "My Lord, I would suggest to send a stolas to my father, inform him about the events here, so he can make ready as well. As Jill said, I painted a target on Rosaria in many ways and I wouldn't put it past Sanbreque to mobilize hidden agents to get some measure of revenge against us, or leverage to force us into submission by a different way."
"Hidden agents?" one of the generals asked, his voice dripping with disdain.
Clive nodded. "The empire is holding hidden units in Dhalmekia and in Kanver, even tried to get some into the Iron Kingdom and into Waloed, but that with little success of course," he explained, pushing himself off the table, littered with maps and figurines for strategy planning. "We used those units as origin point for whenever we had to execute missions in these areas. Rosaria has been more than careful since Phoenix Gate but we can't deny the fact, that my mother most likely gave them all information she had on the country and Rosalith. We can't rule out the fact that they have these spies planted in Rosaria as well."
"Why didn't you say something about this before?" the Lord Commander asked, raising a hand in the same moment to silence the generals that were about to speak up.
A humorless chuckle slipped over Clive's lips, one that made a cold shiver run over Joshua's back. "With everything going on and me trying to remember what it means to be the Lord Marquess, rather than someone's murderer and tool, I forgot about it," he remarked with a shake of his head. "Besides, you might have noticed what I was in the ranks of the empire. It's not as if I - a branded soldier - was privy to intel that important. Not even my sergeant had all information and he was far more trustworthy in the eyes of our superiors. After all he hailed from one of the noble houses, before he awoke and was branded. We were similar in that regard, but he was loyal to Sanbreque through and through. I could be identified as a Rosarian in my first two years of service by my accent alone. After that, I had perfected my Sanbrequious accent, had perfected my Dhalmekian and learned the ashen Tongue. I can't say that being a slave wasn't useful for some bits."
The Lord Commander frowned. "Who taught you the language of Waloed?"
Clive could do nothing but shrug and Joshua's frown deepend. Rosarian, Sanbrequois and Dhalmekian he had already brought with him, when the empire had enslaved him, since despite his focus on the military arts, the Archduke had insisted, that both of his boys and Jill learned the languages of the other nations as well. Only the Ashen tongue had eluded them all, obviously until the empire had gotten hold of Clive. Joshua had gone through the same education, but he had never learned the language of Ash. "One part was my sergeant and the rest I did myself with trial and error. Tiamat considered it a useful talent to understand the commands that the soldiers we fought were screaming, or the fact that we could actually read the documents we were supposed to retrieve. Nothing worse than thinking you stole an important communique that was meant for the king, only to realize you stole a raunchy letter from a general to his mistress back in Ash. That mistake did nearly cost us our head once, when Aevis didn't read the message. Thankfully command gave us a second chance to get it right. Not that they had much of a choice, with no other unit ready. But still."
Taking a deep breath, Clive stretched his back, joints cracking. "The fact remains, that despite me being an imperial branded for over a decade, my knowledge of some internal workings and especially internal information in the Empire is rudimentary at best, none existent at the worst."
Murdoch nodded and with that single movement, he effectively silenced every word, that was on top the general's tongues. A frown crossed Clive's face, but it was gone so fast, that Joshua wasn't sure for a moment, it had even been there at all. He would have to ask his brother about it later. "For now we have our work cut out for us," the Lord Commander said, before he turned around and the stolas jumped on his arm readily, before he moved it to Clive. "Tell your father, what he needs to know, then get some rest. I will take care of things and I'm sure Jill will step up, should we require a show of force."
"Of course," Jill said right away and her voice held no doubt, that she meant it, her gaze ice and iron.
"Let's hope the imperials give us some reprieve," Clive sighed, but then accepted the owl on his armored arm, raising his hand above the crystal imbedded deeply in the bird's forehead. He took a deep breath, then spoke the words and suddenly Joshua realized, that the underlying Sanbrequious accent, that he had heard in his brother's voice when they had met again on the battlefield all these weeks ago had disappeared, replaced by his old rosarian one and Joshua couldn't help but smile. One step closer to freedom.
The first days after the battle were tense to say the least. It came as no surprise, that the empire tried to get various smaller units and detachments into the Rosarian camp, one in an attempt to kidnap Clive and Joshua, since after taking them out in the attempt, the three dominants found herbs that were normally used to subdue a human. A second one only tried to get their hands on Clive with the same result, which was also the moment, the Lord Commander and Clive decided to send Wade and Tyler back to Rosalith to appraise Elwin of the whole situation in person, but also to protect the Archduke. They all slept easier knowing that they had two shields there, that they could trust without hesitation, because if there was one thing, that brought Clive to his knees, it was his family.
It was only a few days after, that the empire obviously decided that taking Clive and retaking Bahamut was a fruitless endeavor, and their tactic grew more radical and ruthless, not caring about the lives of their soldiers they sent against the duchy's holding defenses. Opposite to the empire, the duchy tried to hold back their shields, and reduce killing to a minimum. The empire might not think twice about their losses, but the rosarian shield's didn't want that blood on their hands, and neither did the Lord Commander and the three dominants.
The obvious aggression was a strange development considering the empires previous stance of trying to stare the duchy down, without actually attacking for weeks. It was one of their best scouts, that actually brought an answer to it after a few more days. He had observed the camp from the very moment, Clive had taken Bahamut, had remained out of sight and yet close.
The camp had been in uproar and disarray of course, since losing a Dominant to a blade or the curse was one thing, but no one had ever lost the Eikon but not the Dominant. Clive knew that Dion had tried to prime and bring out Bahamut in the following days and not only once, but a few times, but he had never succeeded. He had felt him pull on the aether, but he could never pull in enough to actually cross that last line, the aether dispersing and breaking away before it could take hold. What Clive had learned in return was the fact that he could use Bahamut’s spells and abilities just like those of Ifrit and the Blessing of the Phoenix, but this was also where it ended. Not that it wasn’t enough already. He had Bahamut’s strength, but not the dragon’s spirit, failing a prime into this form. Not that Clive had a problem with that, since his spirit was inextricably bound to Ifrit and it would never feel right to prime as something else. Using the abilities already felt out of place.
The last time, he had felt Dion pull on the aether had been days ago already, now that he thought about it. Had Dion simply given up on trying or was there something else at play and with himself and the shields around him constantly on the edge, Clive hadn't even realized that half a month had passed them by without him really noticing.
"How do you feel?" Jill asked softly and ripped Clive out of his musings, shattering his thoughts in the wind, while he stared in the direction of the imperial camp wondering about too many things at once and in the storm of it all never came to a conclusion to any of it.
Tearing his eyes away from the plains and the trees, pulling the turmoil of his mind back to himself, Clive turned around, and rolled his shoulders underneath the armor. "Tired, drained, exhausted,” he sighed, before he allowed Jill to take his hand and lead him back to the camp, Joshua walking by his other side. When had his brother decided to keep him company in his mindless vigil? “I still feel like a monster and a thief... the thief even more now, than I did, when I was in the imperial army. We did steal then, because we had no other choice or we would have gone without water, food or clothing. But stealing an Eikon is something else entirely. You can't compare that with taking a loaf of bread and a tunic here and there."
"The question is now, if there is a limit to your ability," Joshua said, gloved hand thoughtfully rubbing his clean shaven chin. They had barely been able to touch on the subject and even despite the fact, that they all lived in the same camp, watch schedules had kept especially Clive and Joshua from each other, since the young Dominant gladly took those watches that helped Clive and Jill to find some time for each other and that gave Joshua himself a reason to not be in the tend, when they were.
“You mean aside from the fact, that I can only prime as Ifrit?” Clive asked with a raised brow.
Joshua looked at him, then shook his head before he steered him towards the tent the tree of them shared and since Wade and Tyler had returned to Rosalith, they even had a cot for Clive. “That question I consider a minor one for now,” he remarked, before he pulled his sword from it’s sheath to lean it against one of the wooden beams that held the tarp upright. “It’s more the question of why this ability of yours did not make itself known before. That you didn’t do it on purpose is more than clear, so what changed in the last battle compared to the one before between you and Dion for this to happen?”
Clive placed his own sword against the beam as well, taking off his armored gloves, before running his hands up and down his face, the brand a strange and irritating itch on his cheek.
“I know that you told me about both battles already, but let’s go through it one more time, step by step,” Jill suggested. “Maybe we can see something if you don’t look for the obvious.”
And so they told her about Ifrit’s first emergence at Phoenix Gate, then the return and the tactics used against Bahamut, the way Clive brought him down and then let him go, in hopes that he would understand that Rosaria was no longer easy to take but would fight for every inch, the imperials planned to wrestle away from them.
It was after they had finished the second story, the one that Jill had played a part in as well, that she frowned and looked at Clive. “You said that at the end of the first conflict, you felt as if you were about to drop?” she asked.
“I did drop into the field,” Clive remarked, knowing that a hue of red was creeping into his cheeks, but in that moment he realized, that Jill had noticed as well. “This time it was the other way round. He was about to collapse, while I was still pretty good on my feet.”
She nodded. “Dion was exhausted and with that, he had neither the will, nor the strength to stand against whatever you did. It would also explain, why Joshua and I still have our Eikons. While I believe that our bonds as family are unconsciously holding you back, you also never encountered either of us in a state this weak and it has to be a combination of both, since proximity alone doesn’t seem to be enough either, or otherwise I would have lost Shiva the first time we kissed. Founder, before even with all the hugging and cuddling.”
“Sounds reasonable enough,” Joshua agreed with a contemplating nod, oblivious or ignoring Jill's comment about the hugging and cuddling on purpose, and a part of Clive was surprised, that he wasn’t taking notes. He had seen Joshua writing down strategy meetings in case he had to refer back to an idea from it. “That answers only one of the questions though. The other question is, why Clive has this curious talent and if absorbing another Eikon releases the previous one? Or if you can absorb until you have all of them, but considering the amount of aether you’d have to pull would most likely hasten the curse as well. Do you feel anything in that regard?”
Flexing his fingers, even though he knew that the curse not necessarily started to make itself known in the joints of a Bearer or a Dominant, Clive knew that one of the Phoenix down the line had been healthy on the outside, with no signs of the curse on his skin, but when he had passed away, they had realized, that all of his organs had already been turned to stone. “Not that I would have noticed,” answered, before he let his hands fall into his lap. “The other members of my unit had already partly lithified fingers and we know that the curse had affected Aevis lungs already, the way he had been breathing, so shouldn’t I show signs as well? We worked the same assignments and I usually always used more magic and aether than him.” Clive stopped himself, looking at Jill and Joshua. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking a gift chocobo in the beak, but it just… it made me think and not only once.”
Joshua tapped his knee with his index finger for a moment, before leaning back, holding himself up with his hands. “That Jill and I show no signs of the curse just yet, is because we barely used any magic since our awakenings - or tried to. Definitely not in the amount that you had to use it for the empire,” he replied. “Just all of this makes no sense. How can a second Eikon of Fire even exist and why were you chosen as it’s Dominant?”
"Who was the hooded man, you saw that night?" Jill added.
Clive nodded. "I need to know."
“We all do,” Joshua agreed. “The very moment, we all are free and back home in Rosalith, we make for Phoenix Gate. When you arrived here to support us, the matter wasn’t so pressing, but with the revelation of you abilities, we need more to understand what is going on. Maybe if we are lucky, our father has already started investigations of his own into the matter. Our literature is mostly concentrated on the Phoenix, but maybe our associates in the other big cities can delve into the books there.”
Looking at Jill, Clive sighed. “All of this feels strange and I don’t mean the matter with the Eikons,” he murmured. “Being cared for, being helped. It still feels as if someone is giving me something I don’t deserve.”
“Like some of the generals who envy you for your rank and position, while ignoring the suffering you went through in the last years?” Jill asked, her voice dark and sharp like steel. “Envy for a position you trained your whole teenage years for with a single minded determination? A position you studied hard for and sometimes through the night, because you thought it would help you be a better advisor and support to your brother?”
Clive chuckled humorlessly. “Noticed that, didn’t you?”
“How could I not?” Jill huffed. “I have seen that sort of look on all of the noble’s faces we met in that month you were back in Rosalith. Their belief that they are superior to everyone, especially someone with a brand. And I think with the generals, they fear for their prospects. With you back, the probability that you will become the next Lord Commander is high. A position some of them definitely speculated on, despite Joshua’s, Lord Murdoch’s and your father’s preference for Tyler.”
"Tyler would undoubtedly be the best choice," Clive remarked. "He knows the duchy, the shields and the people. They all respect him and value his opinion."
Joshua frowned, but then he shook his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit, Clive." His tone was exasperated. "You are back since a few weeks after being away for over a decade. Of course you would not be ready to step up after such a long time, but once you are back and really feel at home again, then I see noreason why you couldn't rise to that position, just like you were once destined to do."
"As long as we don't know what I am, I'm more danger to the duchy, than I am of use," Clive sighed, his hands kneading along his stiff neck. "I lost control over Ifrit once and there is no saying that it won't happen again. And now I have even more aether at my disposal, because I think even though I can't use Bahamut's attacks in my primed form, I can very well strengthen my own."
It was Jill, who forced his eyes on her again. "You can only be a danger if you allow yourself to be one," she said, before she framed his face with her hands, brushing a soft kiss along his lips. Chaste and barely with contact, but enough for Clive to lose the thought he had been holding in that very moment. "As long as we are with you, there will always be a thread connecting us - a thread you can cling to, when the world washes you away in it's tidal stream."
Clive released the breath he had been holding, before he placed his hands on Jill's. She was cool to the touch and he sighed. "Then never let me go," he whispered. "Hold onto me."
"Always."
Rising from his cot Joshua reached for his sword, ready to give the two some space, but the moment he was a length away from the entrance, the Lord Commander stepped in without a greeting and Clive tore himself away from Jill, well knowing that a certain blush was spreading over his cheeks now, just as it did with Jill. Both of them had tried to be decent around the other soldiers and until this very moment, they had been successful.
But Lord Murdoch didn't seem to care about it, fixating all three of them with a stern glance. "I just received a stolas from your father. Our contacts in Oriflamme have sent an urgent owl. According to them, Prince Dion has returned to the capital and orders have been given to move the legions back to the east deep into Sanbrequious territory."
For a moment, Clive didn't want to believe what he just heard. "They have ordered a retreat? Why? They have been content in the last months to rile us up and then let us hang out to dry."
Murdoch snorted. "You would ask for a why," he chuckled. "If I had to hazard a guess, the reason is you. You clipped Bahamut's wings - irrevocably so it would seem. They no longer have a stand against us. It's three Dominants against... well, the husk of one. They can never survive that. Although we for sure can't let our guard down now. By revealing Jill, we showed the whole of Storm, that we are very difficult to get down. The other nations will consider us a threat now. And the only other one that can match our amount of Dominants is Waloed."
Clive rubbed his hands over his face. "I shouldn't have called for Jill," he growled. "I should have held out these few more minutes. Showing them Shiva turned everyone against us."
"Stop it right this second." The warning in Jill's voice was clear. "We had all agreed, that if things got dangerous, that I would step and things got dangerous fast. Joshua was exhausted..." A sound of protest from the side that Jill ignored. "... and you were unconscious with the imperial troops moving in. For me, that warranted an intervention. And it's not as the prince left you a choice. I felt him pull on the aether too. Stop blaming yourself for this. I made a judgement call, and I will stand by it."
She took his hand and Clive was forced to look up, meeting her steel grey eyes. "Together, Clive," she said. "We're in this together."
"She is right, Clive," Lord Mordoch added. "You three had to make decisions in split seconds and you did the best you could, with what you knew. No one will blame you for it. Given the situation, I would have sent Jill out as well. We couldn't risk losing either of you. Especially not, after what the empire already did to us. And if the empire pounces on us, despite us having a Dominant, then I am skeptical, what Waloed or Dhalmekia would have done. After all we can't trust the Dhalmeks any further than we can throw them either."
Clive snorted with a shake of his head. "That's one way of putting it. So what are we going to do now?"
"Your father has suggested that we only stay in full force, until we can be sure, that the empire is really pulling away from our borders." Murdoch had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes wandering from Clive to Jill and then to Joshua. "Then we will move the main host back to Rosalith, but leave an obvious presence to show that our borders are protected. I will stay back with the second group - at least until things are settled and the commanders can hold the lines, while you are leading the main force back home."
"Are you sure you don't want one of us to remain here as well?" Joshua asked. "I don't mind staying."
"No, your father was adamant on that point, that all three of you return," the Lord Commander explained. "Besides, I have heard you talk and I know that you have unfinished business at Phoenix Gate. Just do me the favor that if you go there, make a detour on the way back and visit Hanna, all right? She'd love to see all three of you, but I'm sure she would really love to see you, Clive. See the man, you've become."
Clive felt himself turn cold, colder than Shiva could ever make him feel, even if she pulled him into a middle of a snowstorm for all eternity. The man he had become... more like the monster that had risen from the ashes of Phoenix Gate. Before he could even think further about it, he already shook his head. "I can't," he disagreed. "I'm not the man you all think I am."
Jill's fingers threaded themselves through his, before her other hand came up and cupped his branded cheek, covering it underneath her palm. "You are exactly the man we all think you are. That we know that you are."
Letting his eyes fall closed, Clive leaned into the touch. "So you say, but do you really know me?"
But Jill didn't reply and instead took the step forward that Clive would have never dared to do himself, and she closed the gap between them, before her lips found his, soft and like velvet, the taste of honey still sweet on them. "Since your return, you have been my shadow and I have been yours," she breathed softly. "So yes, I believe I do really know you. You might no longer be the boy I once knew, but you grew exactly into the man, this boy could have been."
"What you did in the name of the empire does not define who you are," Joshua agreed, a soft smile around his lips at the small display of affection between the two. A smile that was mirrored on the Lord Commander's face to Clive's chagrin.
"Visit Hanna, Clive," Murdoch repeated. "It will be good for both of you. Actually all four of you and I'm sure that your father will understand as well."
Clive sighed, before he allowed his hands to wrap themselves around Jill's waist, pulling her flush against his body. He needed her warmth to ground himself, needed her as an anchor to remember that they were right. Or at least he hoped they were.
"You two stay here for a bit, Joshua and I will break the news to the camp and sort the troops," Murdoch chuckled and a moment later, Clive and Jill were alone in the tent, and Clive decided that he would make use of it. Pressing his lips to Jill's, he allowed himself to fall back onto the cot, pulling her with him and into his lap. They wouldn't be able to go further, but this would do for the time being.
Chapter 10: A Song of Hope
Chapter Text
The second time Rosalith Castle rose up from behind the hills, Clive suppressed the urge to stop his chocobo and just stare at the outline of the city as if it was a dream. It was one thing doing it when it was only a small group, like it had been the last time, but this time... he couldn't hold up the whole procession of the ducal army because he was being sentimental. A lot of the soldiers hadn't been home in the last three months since this ill-decided invasion had begun and Clive would not keep them away from their own longer than necessary.
After all, he knew better than most, what it meant to be separated from family and loved ones.
Leading the main host of their troops back to the capital took the three Dominants nearly a whole week, which was not surprising. Their forces were made up out of infantry, riders and carriages with supplies. Moving all that without delay was an undertaking and of course not everything worked out perfectly, but all in all it was a smooth travel from the front back home.
For Clive it was a different experience all together. It was not the first time he travelled with a main host of armed forces, but it was the first time, he was actually riding and leading the trek instead of either scouting ahead or bringing up the rear. He was also sleeping in quickly erected travel tents, and not somewhere in the mud to the side of the road. He could rest through the night, while others covered these dreary shifts. When Clive had offered to take over a watch the first time after they had arrived to support Joshua, the generals had looked at him with wide eyes, for no one above a certain rank would take this duty upon themselves voluntarily. It had taken some back and forth, until they had agreed to put Clive into the rotation and with him, Jill as well. It was another thing, that brought him closer to the lower ranked shields and separated him from the leading generals. But the shields loved him for it, for he was one of them.
Clive released the sigh he had been holding in and looked up forward. The Dominants were not exactly the top of the whole procession, but very much up front, and Clive concentrated on the banner that was flying ahead of him in the wind.
"Clive?" Jill asked softly. "Are you alright?"
He chuckled softly, picking up the reigns that had fallen slack in his fingers. "I'm fine, don't worry. Just childishly wishing I could stay here until the sun sets, so I can see it go down over Rosalith. Just a moment of nostalgia."
"Nothing childish about it, my Lord Marquess," one of the generals who rode close to them remarked. One of the few generals, who didn't seem to see a threat in him for his position. He had treated him like an equal the moment Jill and Clive had returned to the frontlines. "When I'm out with smaller groups I often stop here to watch the sunset, because there is always enough time to get us back to the capital despite of it. It's a beautiful reminder of the home we fight for."
Clive had to admit, that it was an inspiring way to look at it and he gave the general a small smile and a grateful nod, and nothing spoke against the fact that he could still take the short trip out of the city with Jill at one point for that single purpose.
When Rosalith came into view, Clive noticed that the men behind him picked up their pace as well, eager to be home with their families and so he gave Ambrosia a gentle nudge to lengthen her strides and soon enough they had reached the outer wall, and to his surprise, his father was waiting there with an escort, high on top of his own white chocobo. He was a more than regal sight, and even now Clive could imagine the respect the could command if he stepped on the battlefield. He for sure remembered it, when he had walked towards him these few weeks ago.
Elwin nodded towards them and the three Dominants brought their chocobos around, lining them up behind him to face their troops. Clive took a deep inhale, before he listened to the sound of his father's voice, thanking the soldiers for their service and loyalty, for holding the imperials at bay, but he also encouraged them all to be careful and wary, before he released them to their families, only those returning to the castle with them, that were actually stationed there with the current duty schedule, or who had no families to return to because of their single life. Clive didn't think any longer about it, when he turned Ambrosia around once more and his hen simply followed the Archduke and his chocobo and for a moment Clive wasn't sure if it was actually the same bird his father had at Phoenix Gate. Had the chocobo made it out?
Clive shook off the thought and concentrated on the roads they rode up, the claws of the chocobos scratching over the stone, while people thanked the Archduke and the soldiers when they passed. Some of them still frowned at Clive and the brand on his face, but Clive decided to ignore it, since neither of them knew if they snarled at him because the imperials had dared to brand him or if they thought it the right treatment for someone like him - an unknown Dominant and his Eikon. He forced himself to loosen his jaw, when he heard his teeth grind onto each other and finally he took a deep breath, the gates of the castle coming into view.
It was in the castle's bailey that this father released the remaining soldiers and the only ones passing into the inner courtyard were the Archducke and his three children. Wade and Tyler had stayed behind with the other shields as well, getting order into the ranks before it was time to close the castle gates for the night.
Bringing up the rear, Clive followed his family into the main hall of the castle, but their father passed by the throne without a glance and led them to one of the more private dining rooms, where already a spread was waiting for them. It was after all three of them had set down their weapons on one of the cupboard and taken off their traveling cloaks, that they all found themselves in bone-crushing hugs from the Archduke, when Clive was pretty sure, he had heard Jill's back pop under the pressure. But none of them did mind, since it was a dire needed reassurance for all of them, that they were still indeed alive and well.
Settling down at the table, they gave the Elwin a rundown of the events that had transpired, explaining more in detail what had happened, answering the question that arose, since there was only so much, one could put into a message that was carried by a stolas. Clive had tried to be detailed at that time but there just had been too much, and he had still been confused himself.
Once they had ended, the Archduke nodded, chin on his folded hands, deep in thought. "And this is, why you want to go to Phoenix Gate?" he asked. "To see if you can find any hint or information towards this hooded man?"
Clive nodded. "I know it's a stretch, since we can't be sure that the man was really there and not just a figment of my imagination, but we have to start somewhere, since what I am... is not normal," he growled, the magic of the Warden of Light dancing around his bare fingers, as if it was his own.
"I think that is an understatement. I will contact our associates in Sanbreque and Twinside," Elwin said with a frown. "It might be difficult since Sanbreque has become very mistrusting since they started this siege, but they might be able to gain access to the libraries of Oriflamme in search of information, especially now that the capital is in uproar about the halted invasion and Dion's... state."
Leaning back in his chair, Clive played with his goblet, the water sloshing from one side to the other, yet never spilling over the edge. "I dare not think it, but we need to be on our toes," he said with a shake of his head, before he set down the goblet and instead crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I wouldn't put it past mother and the emperor, that they mobilize all of their legions now to make up for what they lost in battle strength with the clipping of Bahamut's wings."
"I was already wondering if you would call it Bahamut's castration," Joshua remarked with a raised brow. "Some of the shields are using that term."
Sighing, Clive ran a hand through his dark hair. “I just feel bad for Dion somehow,” he said after a while, before he leaned forward on the table again, restless with every one of his wandering thoughts. "Even if he can still cast spells and magic, the fact that he can no longer prime is making him nothing else but a glorified and more powerful Bearer and you know, what that means in Sanbreque these days."
Jill nodded. "Even if Sylvestre once had a heart for Dion, it all but vanished with your mother and the birth of Olivier," she growled, hand curling into a fist. "She threw you to the wolves without a second thought, and I could imagine she would do the same with Dion, if it wouldn't create an outcry inside the military and the dragoons. And Dion is also very popular with the people."
"Be it as it may, right now Dion is beyond our reach, for good or bad, time will tell," Elwin said. "For now we will have to concentrate on strengthening our defenses and keep an eye open on whatever Sanbreque has planned for us. And not just Sanbreque. Upon your message about possible informants, we began to weed out our ranks again and while we haven't found leaks in direction towards Sanbreque - what I find rather impossible - we rooted out some that go to Dhalmekia. Your uncle Byron might still have some good contacts in the republic, but we might have to make cuts there too."
"He will not be pleased," Joshua chuckled.
"Not more than he was with me, that I didn't tie Clive down until he had met him," Elwin chuckled. "But I mean, it wasn't our fault that he was on some business trip in the Crystalline Dominion and didn't get the message in time."
Jill frowned. "But he is back by now, right? The idea that he is traveling out of range of our protection when the Empire is trying to tear at us at every turn is worrying."
"He is back in Port Isolde and upon my insistence, he did strengthen his guard as well," Elwin replied, the worry in his eyes the same, that the three Dominants felt deep down. "That brings me back to one last point, before I leave you three to your own devices. The staff has prepared the washing rooms in your quarters, that you can clean up before you head to bed. If you really want to head out to Phoenix Gate, better do it now. Right now, the Empire is still in disarray, while the ministers of the Dhalmekian Republic don't know what to make of the situation yet. It is the calm before the storm and this might be the only chance you get, before waters are getting rough again. Make use of it." He took a deep breath, before he gulped down the remaining contents of his goblet. "That said, there is something else ahead of you, that I know you will hate, but unfortunately I couldn't not allow it."
Clive felt a certain dread pooling in his stomach. Somehow he had the feeling, that his father meant especially him with the last sentence.
"Upon hearing of the troops return, nobility has deemed it the right moment to remind me, that we didn't have the chance to celebrate the Founder's Festival, thanks to the attempted invasion and the siege..."
"Oh, by the Shiva’s ice," Jill sighed, rubbing with both hands over her face, running her fingers through her hair, leaving it a tangled mess more than it already was. "Don't tell me, that they want to celebrate it now?"
"Exactly that," Elwin replied. "Partly I can understand, that they want to celebrate the victory..." His voice growing cold at the word victory, for they all knew that it had been anything but that. "... but we are not entirely out of this just yet."
"Not to mention that it will be a gauntlet for Clive," Jill added, voice like steel and ice. "Do they know about what happened to Bahamut?"
"There are rumors, but nothing clear. Our spies in Oriflamme is still gathering information, but I wouldn't put it past Sylvestre to try and put the blame for his stupid invasion on us and justify a new one with the crusade to retake Great Greagor's most beloved dragon," Elwin snarled, words matching Jill's and suddenly the room felt as cold as the throne room in winter. "Religion has always been a good excuse for the masses."
Clive shrugged. "Then I will make myself scarce," he replied. "I have never been one for cakes and ale after all."
"While it's for sure not normal, that might be a good idea," Jill sighed. "Joshua and I can represent the ducal line. There is no need for Clive to be pulled into the middle like an attraction to be stared at, especially since we know how many of these nobles share your mother's views."
"Then it's settled," the Archduke nodded. "The festivities are in a week. That should be enough time for you to get to Phoenix Gate, visit Hanna and then return here."
"Are you two ready to head out tomorrow at first light?" Clive asked, receiving two nods in reply.
"I will inform the kitchens and the stables and you three, get some rest," Elwin said with a nod.
The three Dominants split from each other once they had made their way up to their chambers and Clive had to admit, that he was relieved, that this time, the staff had prepared the bath in the washing room of his own quarters. He had the fleeting suspicion that the last time, they had not only prepared a meal in record time, but had also cleaned his quarters, while Jill had kept him company in the bathroom.
Placing his sword in a stand by the side of the door, Clive slipped out of his dirty clothes and stacked them in one of the laundry baskets on the side, well knowing that the moment he would set foot out of his quarters the next morning, a chamber maid would pick up the clothes to be washed and mended. It was one of those things he was still not used to, since he had cleaned and fixed his clothes himself for thirteen years and when he had been back out in the fields with the soldiers he had returned to it. To his amazement, even Joshua knew the basics of sewing his clothes, even though his concentration could be measured on the alignment of his stitches.
But this time, Clive didn't have the strength to think about it for too long. A soft towel had been placed on a small stool next to the steaming bathtub and he could smell the various oils and herbs that had been added to the water to help relax his mind and his muscles. Clive stared at the tub for another long more minute, wondering why all of this felt so out of place and so cold, despite of the warmth in the room, before he stepped into the hot water and allowed his body to submerge up to his chin, before he slipped in entirely to get his hair wet enough to be washed.
The first thing he noticed when he was underneath the surface was the change of light behind his closed lids, every sound muffled by the porcelain tub and the water in his ears. The reaction was instant and he shot up again, brushing his hair out of his eyes, looking at the door and for a moment, his mind was drawing blank, followed by shock, surprise, modesty and... arousal.
Jill was leaning in the doorframe to the bathroom, door shut tightly behind her, her wet hair braided and rolled up into a bun on the top of her head. She wore her dressing gown and slippers, her eyes as soft and amused, a smile around her lips.
"Jill?" Clive asked. "What are you doing here?"
She shrugged helplessly. "Now that I'm standing here, it's most likely stupid," she said. "But I was sitting in my tub... and I know I shouldn't have, cause all the water and the work that gets wasted... but I sat there and felt... alone, because you weren't there..." She shook her head, then herself and straightened her back and turned around. "It's really stupid, now that I think about it. I should go..."
Clive was out of the tub faster than he had ever thought he could and grabbed Jill's hand, allowing her to slip away if she so wanted, but still tight enough to convey what he wanted. "Stay, please," he said softly, threading his fingers through hers. "I admit I didn't know why I felt uncomfortable, but it seems that you and me are two sides of the same coin."
Turning her to him, he carefully trailed his hands up her arms, ignoring that he was completely nude in front of her and already in a half-excited state, before he framed her face and brushed his lips over hers, inviting her and yet allowing her the pace. She returned the kiss, her tongue wetting his lips, begging for more and so he allowed her inside, allowed her to taste the fruit he had eaten, while she was once again a brush of honey and and berries. She didn't seem to get enough of either.
She moaned softly into his mouth and Clive's hands wandered down again, unbuttoning her dress gown one after the other without hurry and without ever breaking the kiss, that had begun to melt into countless smaller ones, accompanied by tiny moans and whispers. Finally her dressing gown fell and only a thin nightgown separated them from each other. Working on another row of buttons, the silken fabric soon pooled at their feet and she was as bare before him as he was.
Breaking the kiss, he dared to step back, his eyes wandering over her form. "A goddess of ice for sure," he whispered. Her skin was pale as snow, the areola of her breasts dark against it. A blush crept into her cheeks, but Clive kissed her onto the lips once more, before he carefully pushed her back a step, so she leaned against the door of the bathroom. "Let me see you, let me taste you, let me memorize everything that you are, that I can see you in my dreams without a detail lost to me," he whispered, brushing kisses along the line of her neck, his tongue lapping at her pulse point and she threw her head back, trembling softly.
Teeth nipping at her collarbone, before he took one of her nipples into his mouth, letting his tongue run around it until he could softly suck it into standing, then doing the same on the other side. Clive had read some questionable novels in his youth, nearly once throwing one of the tomes into the fire, when he had been caught, but he did remember some of it. At that time he didn't understand and couldn't fathom why the author had written some of it, but in that very moment he realized that he couldn't think of anything else that he wanted to do more in that second.
He wanted to feel her skin underneath his tongue, wanted to feel the softness of it underneath his calloused fingertips, wanted to explore and find out what sounds he could coax from her velvet lips if he did something different. She was already trembling underneath his touch, when he began trailing kisses down her stomach, kissing her navel. Should he go further down or back up again, kissing her swollen lips, before leading her to the bathtub? But Clive wanted more and by the hand that had found the way into his hair, Jill wanted too. He let his hands glide over her hips, before looking up. "Jill?" he whispered softly and it was clear that it took her some time to concentrate on him. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he admitted. "So guide me, tell me what you want, where you want me to touch you. Tell me what feels good."
She nodded breathlessly and he dipped lower, until he was kneeling in front of her, softly kissing the hooded nub that he knew was hiding there and Jill gasped, when he wriggled his tongue underneath, softly sucking on it. "Oh Founder," she breathed. "I never knew a tongue could feel this good."
Clive took it as a good sign, experimenting with his tongue, sucking and licking, letting go of the bundle of nerves and licking up from the bottom to the top in large strokes, before concentrating on her core again and when he returned this time, a low moan escaped her lips and he could feel her quiver underneath his hands. Looking up from his position he realized that her eyes had fallen close, one hand trying to claw itself into the handle of the door, the other one still buried in his hair. "Need more," she gasped.
Taking a deep breath, the scent of her arousal and her soap in his nostrils, Clive went back again, losing one of his hands from her hips to circle her nub with his finger, while he parted her lips with his tongue, looking for her welcoming warmth and then he dove in, as far as his tongue allowed. Her moan was like music in his ears, a symphony he hadn't known he wanted to hear, her taste on his tongue spurring him on, his own arousal brushing against his thighs, but he would find release another day. He wanted to see hers, wanted to see her come because of him.
Another thrust with his tongue and Jill shuddered, before she took her hand of his hair and wrapped her fingers around his, leading them to her core. "Touch me," she whispered and who was he to deny his lady her wishes. He circled her core with the pads of his finger, softly brushing over it, his tongue still buried in her as far as he could go and with a shaking moan and a sigh, she fell apart around him, fingers digging into his scalp, body trembling and shaking, her walls pulsating around him. He could taste her arousal on his tongue and going by what he felt was right, he kept wiggling his tongue softly, until he pulled away from her and wrapped her shaking body into his arms, holding her to him, while she tried to find her footing. She had her arms wrapped around his neck, nose buried in the hollow of his throat and her words were entirely inaudible, when she muttered something into his skin.
Clive couldn't help but chuckle. "What was that?" he asked amused and Jill lifted her head, cheeks flushed and sweat glittering on her snowy skin.
"I said: and you told me, you had no idea what you are doing," she repeated. "That was fucking perfect, too good to be true... stop grinning like an idiot."
He had to admit, that he couldn't stop smirking, for once he allowed himself to feel rather smug, simply because he had managed to bring her to her heights. It was a weight off his shoulders, since he had always been afraid that his inexperience would make a fool of him, but it seemed that at least this had worked out. If it was the same, once they were really united was a different topic.
Jill's hand slipped down and every coherent thought was gone for the fraction of a second, her slim hand wrapped around his length, softly stroking it up and down, palm engulfing his delicate head and Clive couldn't help but thrusting into her waiting hand, throbbing and twitching. But he wanted this evening to be about her and so he carefully pried her hands off his manhood and kissed her on the lips, threading his fingers through hers.
"Clive," she muffled against his lips. "You..."
"It's alright," he breathed softly, peppering kisses along her jaw and neck. "We have a long day behind us and an even longer ahead of us, and I'm afraid if you tire me out, I won't be able to rise tomorrow. I'm not as strong as you."
Jill huffed, but Clive held onto her and carefully he steered them both into the bathtub, sinking into the now more lukewarm than hot water and pulled her against him and into his arms, drawing on Ifrit to heat up himself and the water around them. Jill still found a way to play and stroke his softening length, but Clive knew that the exhaustion was starting to take it's toll on her as well, her fingers simply wrapped around him for the comfort of the both of them, and Clive had to admit that it felt right. Just to have her in his arms, contend with who they were and with nothing between them.
"What do you think awaits us in Phoenix Gate?" Jill asked softly, drawing idle patterns with her other hand on his chest.
Clive pulled her closer to himself, his lips brushing over her forehead, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her shoulders. "I don't know," he whispered honestly. "All writings about the halls underneath the stronghold are kept secret and only the Dominant of the Phoenix is allowed to look into them or enter the halls itself. It is said, that each previous Dominant had to leave an account of their visit and each communion as well."
"Secret halls?" Jill frowned. "Sounds ominous."
Clive snorted humorlessly. "I don't know, what we will find or not. But we have nowhere to start, so might as well start there."
"Do you think we can enter these halls?"
"As long as we have Joshua with us, I don't see a reason why not," Clive said, pushing Ifrit forward again, when the water grew cold around them. It would be easier to just get out of the tub and move to the bed, but Clive didn't know if Jill would stay with him. Sleeping in the same tent on separate cots was different than sharing a bed.
Wriggling herself out of Clive's arms, Jill sat up between his legs. "Musing won't get us anywhere, and the day is not getting any longer," she said, before she looked over the various items on a plate next to the tub, before she grabbed a soap bar and motioned him to get up as well. "Let me wash your hair and then we'll call it a day and go to bed."
Clive forced himself up and he realized, that his body was already half asleep. "What about you?"
"I already washed my hair before I came here," Jill replied, and got out of the tub, before sitting down at the head of it, legs dangling into the water, Clive's head between them. She lathered up the soap in her hands and then worked it into Clive's dark hair, digging the tips of her fingers into his scalp, massaging and Clive released a sigh, his eyes falling closed on their own. Jill laughed softly, before she kissed him on the nose. "Stay awake for a bit longer and I'm done."
Clive chuckled softly. "I think I can do that," he said softly and when Jill tapped him on the shoulder, he submerged himself once more, washing the soap from his hair, before stepping out of the tub himself. Jill had his towel in hand, having a smaller one to pat herself dry, but she had a suspicious smirk on her face.
"I just wanna do one last thing, before we go to bed," she explained and before Clive could react, she was on her knees in front of him, taking his soft length into her mouth, pulling back the skin, giving him one good sucking, and a twirl with her tongue around the sensitive tip.
Hissing, Clive threw his head back. "By the Flames, Jill, don't do this to me," he moaned, body shuddering at the sensation.
Jill chuckled and rose, wrapping the towel around his waist, drying and covering him in one. She plucked her clothes from the floor and then slipped into the bedroom, where she placed them on the back of the couch, the flickering flames of the fire reflecting on her ivory skin and her silver hair like gold. She was really a sight to behold and if he didn't feel the exhaustion so clearly in his bones now, Clive would have wrapped her in his arms, placed her on the carpet in front of the fire and buried himself into her again, fingers on her nub and tongue tasting her essences. Although maybe next time he could try something else...
Clive shook his head, forcing his thoughts away from his daydreaming, before his body betrayed him again, for he could feel the first stirrings of his arousal again. He dried himself down and placed the towel on the side, before blowing out the candles that had served as a light source in the washing room. The servants would take care of the tub, after they had left for Phoenix Gate.
Releasing the breath he had been holding, Clive followed Jill into the bedroom, where she was still waiting for him, and so Clive took his chance to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her, kissing her, their bodies flush against each other. She was the other part of his soul and the center piece of the puzzle he had been missing for so long. He hadn't realized it, the puzzle put together all wrong in these thirteen years of darkness, but she had taken the whole ting, torn it apart and put together correctly and suddenly, Clive hadn't felt so broken anymore - so monstrous and wrong.
She was cool underneath his touch, but soft like silk and Clive allowed his hands to roam, while their tongues danced, between soft whispers of nothingness. Leading her to the bed in a soft sway of small movements, Clive pulled her down with him, before he wrapped his body around her, his chest to her back and his arms holding her to him. He peppered soft kisses onto the back of her neck and she sighed into the touch, when he pulled the covers over them.
If this was a dream, Clive didn't want to wake up.
Notes:
Yepp, it's getting spicy, but not just as spicy yet...
Chapter 11: Down the Rabbit Hole
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ambrosia stopped on her own, feeling her rider's unease and Clive had to force himself to loosen the iron grip he had around her reigns, the leather creaking underneath the pressure. "There it is," he whispered to himself. "Phoenix Gate... where it all went wrong."
Clive, Joshua and Jill had set out with the rising of the sun, which thankfully gave Jill enough time to sneak back into her own quarters in the darkness of the wee morning hours and soon they had been on their way, making good time with their birds rested and due to the small size of their little group. It had been barely midday, when they had reached the outskirts of the former stronghold.
Jill softly squeezed his shoulder with her hand, reassuring and comforting both. “But not as wrong as it could have been,” she said. “I don’t dare to wonder, what would have become of us, if neither of you had made it out. Your father, Lord Murdoch or you and Joshua.”
Joshua took a deep breath next to Clive and he could see the tension in his brother’s body as clearly as he felt it in his own. Joshua was unusually pale which made his strawberry blonde hair stand out even more. This wasn’t easy for Joshua either, for he had wrought death upon their people in the same place. They both had blood on their hands and neither had ever really come to terms with it.
Clive in fact had just added layer after layer to it, until he could no longer count how many lives he had taken and how much blood was dripping from his hands and his sword.
“Come on,” Jill said softly. “It’s time to find out if Phoenix Gate really holds the answers, we are looking for.”
Nudging Ambrosia forward, Clive followed the path that their father had told them about. Unlike Joshua, the Archduke had been back a few times to oversee either search operations or other matters, but they had never made the effort to rebuild the stronghold. The damage had been too great and the memories too painful to return there, not to mention that the gil and the manpower to rebuild it, was better used in different places - more suitable to actually be of help to the living, not the dead. Not to mention, that they hadn’t been able to find all of their comrades in the ruins, their bones still resting between the heavy boulders.
The very same boulders and remains they had to climb over now to reach what had once been the inner courtyard and Clive had to keep himself from shivering. It wasn’t the first time he walked over a grave or a graveyard, he had defiled a few even, but these were his people… some of them even akin to friends. It was not only the knowledge of what was lying beneath his feet, that held Clive’s stomach in an iron fist. It was also what was right in front of his eyes - undeniable and not to ignore.
A huge crater had been punched into the earth next to the keep, deep enough to swallow the castle in whole, and some of the outer walls had actually broken and crumbled down the steep sides of it. Clive didn’t need to ask, who was responsible for the huge change in the landscape and since Joshua had lost the color in his face entirely he knew it too - remembered it with the same clarity as he. The explosion at the end of Ifrit’s Hellfire. Looking back at it now, Clive knew, that the survival of his little brother had been nothing but a stroke of stupid and dumb luck. Same went for the people that had been in the keep. This could have ended with so many more bodies.
But Clive didn’t think further on it, instead turned around and pulled Joshua into his arms, armored fingers digging into the thick material of his brother’s coat. “I’m so sorry, Joshua,” he whispered, his voice broken and hoarse, barely able to hold back his tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“This was never your fault,” Joshua replied softly, but he brought up his arms as well and returned the embrace with equal ferocity, holding onto Clive as his anchor to be not swept away by the memories that choked him, just like they threatened to overwhelm Clive, and Clive had no doubt that if he had come here alone only with Jill, he would have had a better grip on his emotions. Joshua’s presence seem to amplify everything and Clive swallowed the knot in his throat down, before he released his brother. He felt Jill’s hand brush over his back and together they moved forward.
With Torgal ahead of them to warn them of any dangers, they made their way down until they had reached what was left of the outer courtyard, and Clive had difficulty to remember, how the keep had looked before Ifrit had torn it down to its foundations, tried to remember where the quarters had been, where he was supposed to sleep, the dining hall where the shields had celebrated with his father. He could still hear the Rosarian anthem in his ears, drunken voices singing full of conviction and trust in the Phoenix.
A day later most of these voices had been silenced forever.
Clive could feel a soft stone crumbling underneath his armored sole and when he looked down, he prayed that it had really been a stone, when black and white dust swirled around his boot. “Let’s take a look around,” he suggested softly and made a step forward, following the remains of a long winded path, the crater now to their left and nothing stopped them from tumbling down, should one step too close to the edge to take a look. The road paved with thick cobblestones was long overgrown by moss and grass and if Clive hadn’t known it to be there, he would have never felt it underneath the soft plants.
A torn banner was dancing ahead of them in the wind, the once bright red partly washed out by rain and sunlight, and partly stained black from soot and ash. That it was still here seemed to be a miracle in itself, exposed to the destructions and the elements it had been for over a decade.
Jill’s hand brushed over his for a moment, as she passed him by and follow Torgal up the road, but Clive couldn’t tear his eyes away from the banner and the remains of the crest of the Phoenix in the middle of it. It was Torgal’s low and warning growl that tore him from his musings, and he followed Jill up the hill, Joshua on his heels. When he reached her, she nodded towards the inner courtyard ahead of them. “Look,” she whispered,
For a moments Clive didn’t want to believe his eyes. A hooded man walked towards the remains of a structure that seemed to be leading underground, his body hidden underneath long flowing cloths, tunics like those of the priests of Sanbreque’s great greagorian church. The color was slightly different, but that made him only more unique and so much easier for Clive to recognize. “That’s him,” he breathed, when Joshua had caught up with him. Only a moment later, the man walked down the stairs and out of sight and Clive was finally able to shake off his shock and with long strides he followed. “He’s the only one who knows what happened then and now. I need to know!”
“We need to know,” Jill emphasized and she was by his side in a few moments, Joshua on the other. Hey had crossed the remains of the courtyard with a few wide steps, but the imperial assassin in Clive still forced him to turn once around himself fully, his eyes scanning the ruins around them for more people, afraid and wondering if the hooded man had brought friends along and if all of this was nothing but one elaborate trap. But there was no one, and Clive could only see unmoving ruins and debris and his ears heard nothing else bit their own breathing and the soft songs of the birds, that had made this ruin their home.
They had reached the stairs soon after and Clive followed them down without hesitation, his boots scratching over the steps, echoing around them, before they were drowned by the sound of Joshua’s boots. The only one who seemed to glide down the stairs was Jill. Ahead of them lay a chamber, the ceiling held by large pillars made of stone, but the chamber… was empty. The hooded man was nowhere to be seen, yet there was no other door in this hall than the one right in front of them, a blue crystal shimmering and glowing in the dim light that fell through the entrance and some cracks in the ceiling.
Once again Clive turned around himself, searching every corner of the room, but it was just the three of them and Torgal, who had guarded their rear and who would have caught everyone trying to sneak out behind them again. The hooded man had simply vanished. Hitting one of the pillars with his fist, Clive growled. “He’s like a bloody eel.”
“What is this anyway?” Jill asked, her eyes wandering and searching for clues, while taking in the structures and everything she could see, her gloved hand trailing over another pillar, before she turned to Clive.
“I forgot that you have never been here,” Joshua nodded thoughtfully, his hand scratching his chin. “This here is the hall of the gate.”
“The gate?”
Clive signed towards the door at the end of the hall. Now that they were closer, it was easier to see the intricate stonework around the crystal, the patterns of lines, crossing each other before running out into nothingness. “It’s a relic of the Fallen, only the Phoenix’s Dominant can open it.”
“Hence the castle’s name,” Jill remarked with a nod. “You mentioned that last night.” But in that very moment she stopped herself, and her eyes went from Clive to Joshua. “So this was were you was supposed to…”
Joshua sighed and nodded, ignoring or simply not commenting Jill’s slip. “Yes. I would have set through this door the next morning and listened to the words of our ancestors.”
Clive frowned at Joshua’s words. It was the truth, but somehow it also didn’t sit right with him. Yes, it was a tradition that was practiced in the duchy and by the line of the Phoenix since decades and centuries, but it felt wrong to base the future of the duchy on something… or someone, none had ever seen but the Dominant of the Phoenix. It sounded like a recipe for disaster and yet the duchy still existed even though there had been close calls and not just in recent history.
“Would you have gone with him?” Jill’s voice tore Clive from his musings.
“No,” he replied with a shake of his head, before he moved closer to the door, taking the few steps up that led to it. The patterns were mesmerizing in their own way, distracting as well. “The Apodytery is holy ground - none but the Dominant may enter. I and the other shields would have stood guard here and prayed for Joshua’s safe return.” Once more Clive turned around, looking over the room behind them, but there was nothing but dust and debris that had fallen from the ceiling while the attack. It was obvious, that someone had done some cleaning up, since the the debris had been gathered in small piles at the feet of the pillars, so the way to the gate itself was free and without any obstacles. Clive’s frown deepened. “Where the hell did he go?”
“Perhaps he went inside?” Jill suggested.
Joshua raised an eyebrow, then shook his head. “He couldn’t have. He’d need the power of the Phoenix.”
“And yet, we are here and he is not,” Clive couldn’t help it, but snarl impatiently. They had too many questions and way too less answers, and Clive knew that they were in dire need of them. Especially before he did something, he couldn’t undo; before he accidentally hurt Joshua or Jill, because there was something inside him he couldn’t control. He didn’t want to go down that way, but the thought made him shiver inside and whether he liked it or not; he was afraid. Taking a deep breath, he ran his hand through his dark hair. “Jill has a good point there though and didn’t we already decide at the frontline that we would find out, what is going on here? I’m loath to desecrate our holy grounds along those I already had to, but if it gives us the answers we seek, it’s worth it.”
Joshua chuckled. "And it's not as if anyone would be here to stop us," he said with a shrug. Taking a deep breath he stepped between Clive and Jill, placing his hand against the crystal that had been imbedded in the door. At first, it didn't seem to work, but suddenly the crystal began to glow underneath Joshua's palm and from there, light began to flow to the bigger crystal above it, the patterns suddenly bright and... moving. Like a complicate machine, the door seemed to roll upward in itself, opening the way into the structure beneath.
"So, just for good measure. We are sure about this then?" Jill asked once more.
"Never more," Clive growled and together they set foot into what was lying ahead of them, the gate shutting behind them.
Clive had passed through enough Fallen ruins with the Bastards to recognize that not only the gate had been a relic, but everything behind it was too. Crystals to the sides and above bathed everything in a cold, blue glow and Clive felt an immediate sense of dread and unease. It took only one look to the side for him to realize, that Jill was exactly the same, her hand hovering above the grip of her rapier. Joshua seemed to be more at ease, but grew visibly more restless, when he realized how on edge Clive and Jill were. Maybe there was a reason, why none but the Phoenix were allowed to enter. But it was too late for that, and Clive would not let that stop him. If he was a danger to his family or anyone else for that matter because he was some sort of anomaly, then he had to make sure and had to act accordingly - even if it meant taking himself out of the matter entirely. Clive didn't want to lose what he had just found again, but he would go to hell before he hurt those he loved.
The corridor was short and ended with another door, that reacted underneath Joshua's hand with an instant, folding itself away in twirl of blue and teal colors. It was unsettling how well all of this still acted and reacted, for the Fallen were gone since centuries already. Stepping into the hall that followed, Clive felt himself grow even colder. Never before had he seen a structure in this size, easily dwarfing the throne room of Rosalith Castle with it's might and he had no doubt that even the great halls of Whitewyrm castle couldn't hold a candle against what he saw. How could all of this still exist in such a size? How could all of this be hidden underneath Phoenix Gate? It made no sense.
"Could this place really be a Fallen ruin?" Clive asked softly, walking down the ramp towards the center with long strides, his boots scratching over the material underneath his soles.
"I would hardly call this a ruin," Jill breathed, when she closed up to him her eyes taking in the same sights as he did. "It's perfect. Even after all these years."
And in that moment Clive felt it. Felt it over the water that surrounded the platform in the center. The air was thick with aether, saturated with it to the point that it was nearly suffocating, even for a Dominant like him. Maybe this was the reason only the Phoenix was allowed inside. An exposure to that much aether would turn everyone else Akashic in a matter of moments, robbing them or their will and spirit, their heart and soul, turning them into mindless creatures that knew only aggression and violence. The aether was a blessing, for it allowed humanity to cast magics - albeit with a price, but the blessing could turn into a curse if there was too much of it involved, just like it was with everything else.
Clive closed his hand into a fist. "Let's get moving. I'd rather not stay here longer than we have to."
Joshua nodded. "Agreed," he growled and they lengthened their steps, reaching the middle of the platform ahead of them, but it was there, that they stopped, for there was no way to move onward. Around them was nothing but water and aether dancing in blue wafts above it. Was something supposed to be happening here? Was this were the communion was supposed to take place? Or did they have to try to get to the little landing on the other side of the water, although Clive dreaded to think about having to swim there with all his armor on.
Every other question he could have asked himself, was cut short the moment the crystals that were imbedded in the floor came to life, light spreading along patterns on the floor, just like it had been with the door before. A pulse went through it all and Clive could feel the aether shake and tremble... and not just the aether. The platform itself underneath his feet as well.
"Joshua?" he asked, turning around, but his brother just shook his head.
"Don't ask me."
And with that the platform began to lower itself deeper and deeper into the structure and Clive wondered, how deep these ruins even reached, and how they had never realized it. Or how nobody had ever asked the right questions apparently. Yet every further thought was cut short, when the four statues that had been sitting on the platform came to life, eyes suddenly flashing blue and in limbs unfolding in an eerie flurry of motions and Clive couldn't help but being reminded of insects when the first one stared him down. Where these actual animals or machines?
They were barely able to react, when the first of the four came at them, jumping at Jill and only her fast reflexed allowed her to snap out of the way on a sleet of ice, which brought her to Clive's side, now standing back to back with him and his brother. They were surrounded on all sides now and it was clear that these things were out for blood. Maybe they shouldn't have entered the halls with Joshua, but what difference did it make now and maybe Joshua would have never gotten the answers they were looking for, but they wouldn't know that either, until they had made it to wherever the elevator was leading them. And for that, they had to clear the path.
The last weeks on the battlefield had been a blessing in disguise at this point. After Clive had taken Bahamut, the three Dominants had spent a lot of time sparring and also trying to get Clive familiar with his abilities. Fighting as one was no longer the challenge it had been and with a nod, they all shifted forward, drawing on the aether with their talent and focusing each on one of the creatures ahead. It didn't take long for them to dispatch them, ice and fire burning and and slicing through them with ease.
"What are these creatures?" Jill asked softly, her hand brushing over one of the corpses, without really touching it. They looked as if they were made out of the same material as the ruins around them.
Clive didn’t answer her question, not that he would have actually had a reply for it, since in the next moment, the platform slotted into a perfectly matches hole in the ground and the lights went dark. They had reached the bottom and to Clive's dismay, they were surrounded by another group of the same structures - or slights different ones - than the ones they had just dispatched. And they came alive in the very next moment, unfolding itself and this time they did not only resort to attacking them by brute force. These creatures walked on two legs and held sword made of burning light in their hands.
"More trouble, that's what they are," Clive growled, strengthening the grip on his sword. It also became abundantly clear only a moment later, that the spheres in the room were much more than just floating machines, since Joshua's charged spell that passed Clive's head did not actually hit the two legged thing he had aimed at, but crashed against a shield. The spheres were not only able to attack, but cast magic as well.
Clive cursed and spreading Bahamut's wings, he reached into the aether and concentrated it into a blast that dissolved everything in it's light and that was the protected creature along with the sphere that had cast the spell. Crumbling and crashing to the floor, the silence was deafening after the short fight and the only thing interrupting it, was the harsh breathing of the three Dominants. These guardians were no match for them, but if this became a war of attrition, they were clearly in a disadvantage.
"How can these things still function?" Joshua asked, rolling one over with the tip of his boot, which seemed to take quite some effort.
"How can any of this still function?" Jill replied. "This must be what the Fallen ruins were like, before they fell."
But Clive just shook his head. "We should get moving," he growled and nodded towards what seemed to be the only way out. The only door they could see imbedded into the walls ahead of them. What followed after the door was a wide path, that seemed to lead to another section and when Clive turned around, he realized that he recognized parts of it all, albeit from a different angle. Flashes of memories burned through his mind from the fight against the Phoenix all these years ago. Infernal claws holding onto large spires of stone, bridges that crumbled underneath his feet. How much of the Apodytery had fallen when they had held their battle in these ruins. Clive didn't want to think of it.
Together they made their way down and down, taking out the guardian forces that the Fallen had left behind one by one, even though they became gradually more dangerous the deeper they came.
Jill shook her head after they had danced a few minutes around a slobbering flan that had tried to bite their heads off at any chance it got. "Does any of this make sense to either of you"? she asked.
"None," Joshua replied, when he sheathed his sword. "But I can tell you one thing for sure. The moment we are back home, I'll have a long talk with the seamstress. These clothes might be good and all for a representative position, but they are absolutely useless for fighting. They are way too heavy."
Clive chuckled. "Or you need more training," he replied with a good natured smirk, but then he sobered and sighed. "You are right though. They gave me one of father's robes to wear, when we tried to find a replacement for my imperial uniform and it was just too heavy. I needed something lighter."
Joshua deadpanned. "Something lighter, he says," he said with a shake of his head. "Says the man who has more metal on himself than most of our shields."
"That said, we should try to find the hooded man and leave," Jill remarked and nodded towards the next door, focusing their attention back onto the reason they were here for. "Because nothing of this seems to make sense at all to me. What I also don't understand - Joshua, would you have to run this gauntlet too? After all, when the first communion was supposed to take place, you were nothing but a child. You would have been killed."
Looking from Jill to Joshua, Clive frowned. "I don't think he would have had to," he replied carefully, the door folding itself up and clearing them passage to the next chamber. "At least I never heard of an occurrence like this. I think, that the Phoenix alone would have received a way warmer welcome."
Another elevator brought them back up again and Clive had long lost his sense of direction in the maze of halls and walkways. They always only ever had one way to go, but this way twisted and turned at every occasion and the ups and downs did for sure not help. But there was no turning back now and they had to walk the way all to the end if they wanted answers.
Clive just hoped, that there really were answers at the end of this.
The deeper in the got, the more they got thrown at them, bigger, faster and more and more dangerous, fiends not only made of the material the ruins around them consisted of, but huge metal giants with a swing that for sure could match that of Titan's Dominant in semi-primed state. Whoever had built these ruins did not want anyone but the Phoenix in them.
But then, the gallery opened up ahead of them into a room similar to the one they had seen at the entrance. The ceiling was high above them, the walls made of Fallen structures. The platform was surrounded and connected by various more walkways and smaller gates, but this was not what drew Clive's attention in the end, when he walked to the end of the level they were on; nothing separating him from falling into nothingness, if he made a false step.
"Is that some kind of mural?" Jill whispered.
At the far end of the hall, behind another gate, Clive could see a massive painting on one of the walls. Too far away to see details, but still visible enough to know that there was something and he knew deep down, that this was the end of the road. It was there and nowhere else where their answers could be. If they weren't there, all had been for naught. "It's worth a closer look whatever it is," he growled, taking the ramp down to the platform in the center.
The whole thing smelled of a trap.
Reaching back, Clive wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, the leather of his cloves stretching under the strain. Jill and Joshua felt it too, the way the aether began to draw in one spot, so dense that Clive believed for a moment, that if he reached out to it, he would be able to grab it and actually feel it like he would anything else.
And then the aether suddenly rippled and then it was torn open and with a screeching wail, a creature appeared out of thin air and it was abundantly clear, that it was not one of the guardians of the Apodytery. Blue flesh pulled itself over a humanoid form, boney fingers around the hilt of a scythe, which had a blade longer than Clive's whole sword, head unformely shaped with one glowing red eye. The creature emitted a low growl, that seemed to echo in the aether and Clive could feel Ifrit on the edge. His eikon had barely reacted in the last fights, but now he itched to move as if there was something unseen that he needed to tear apart; that he couldn't allow to live. And so instead of holding Ifrit back, Clive allowed the inferno to embrace him, infuse him and it surged through him with the clarity of his semi-priming.
Feeling Jill at his side, Clive charged forward, flames of the Phoenix underneath his hand, but the very moment he tried to throw the creature off it's balance by allowing the wing to cut through it, it disappeared in a wave of aether and shimmering petals... only to reappear in his back, scythe high above it's head and then letting it come crashing down on Clive. But semi-primed, Clive's reactions were faster than normal and he turned on the heel of his boot, catching the otherworldly blade with his own and that in turn allowed Jill to start an attack herself, driving forward.
Closing the distance with a snap, she buried her rapier deep in the creatures back, forcing it to arch and release the lock it had on Clive and his sword. It was the moment that Clive needed and with his sword free, he stepped back and brought the blade to the being’s neck, severing head from torso with a wide arc. The creature crumbled and before hitting the floor it dissolved into shimmering petals of aether, as if it had never been there.
"Was that some sort of Akashic?" Clive asked, since he had only ever seen those plagued and turned by the aether breathe their last like this.
"It might have been," Joshua frowned, a firespell still glowing and flickering in his gloved hand, before he let it die out and closed the distance to Clive and Jill, Clive’s semi-prime fading away. "But while it looked more human than what we have seen until now, it definitely wasn't human."
"No denying that," Jill remarked and sheathed her rapier as well. The platform was silent again, until a rumbling went through the whole structure, and their hands flew back to their weapons again, ready to face whatever the ruins tried to throw at them now. But instead of another monster, a bridge rose from the abyss below them, connecting their platform to the ledge that would bring them even closer to the mural.
Had all the tests deemed them worthy to proceed despite two of them not being the Phoenix, or had the guardians just given up? Clive couldn't make sense of it and he could only hope that what was lying ahead, brought them closer to the truth and was actually worth the hassle. "Let's get moving," he said softly, hoping that they wouldn't have to face off against something on the bridge now, flimsy and weak as it looked. Although Clive knew well enough, that when it came to the materials of the Fallen, it was never as it appeared.
The bridge held as they passed over it and the gate opened underneath Joshua's hand, allowing them to step into the chamber behind and as expected, the mural rose in front of them, massive and looming. Clive frowned. Half of it was missing, the plaster broken off underneath the upper third of it and despite the fact that the rest of the surrounding structures looked stable and undamaged, he couldn't rule out that the little spat Ifrit and Phoenix had in these halls had been what led to that damage. Not that he had ever expected to find a mural in here.
"How old do you suppose this is?" Jill asked softly, her hand stretched out, as if she wanted to touch it, despite the long distance between them. "Some thousand years? Maybe more?"
Turning to her, Clive couldn't help but smile. The wonder of her face, her sparkling grey eyes and the bluish light reflecting off her silver hair made her look more etherial than she had been. She was truly a goddess in her own right and even though Clive wished, he could tell her that - right now was not the place for it. "I don't know," he replied instead, tearing his eyes away from her. "I've never seen anything like it before."
"Neither have I," Joshua remarked. "Who is that in the middle, you think? Some sort of god?"
Clive made a step closer to it, eyes wandering over the shape of the figure, the wings sprouting from it's back... and an eerie high pitched noise began to assault his ears, driving into his brain like a hot poker. Hissing in pain he turned his head to the side, hoping to release the pressure that began to build up. Breathing in harshly, he swallowed dry, but not even that took away the fist that seemed to dig into his skull and a moan of pain slipped over his lips.
"Clive?" Jill's voice suddenly far away. "Are you alright?"
Was he alright? His body seemed fine, aside from the splitting headache and the sickening taste of aether on his tongue. Aether as oppressive and suffocating he had never felt before. Thick as if he could grasp it with his bare hands and then he suddenly heard a distant shout from behind him and it took him a lot more time and strength to actually force his body around to see what was going on.
"What the..?" he whispered, his voice hoarse as if he had screamed the whole day.
A wall of aether had solidified between him and his family, he could see it ripple underneath the impact of Jill's icicles and Joshua's blasts. But there was no sound on his side. Not anymore. Jill and Joshua were shouting, he could see there lips moving... and then he saw the terror in their eyes, Torgal's hackles raised and his fangs bared at him, something... someone behind him.
Clive threw himself around and in the next moment, his whole body froze, muscles locking to an unspoken command. A man stood in front of him, but he wasn't sure if he could call him human in itself. While not as strange as the creature they had fought before, this being was as similar and yet as different. Face like a human, but with hollow, lidless, sunken, yellow eyes the skin was bluish and grey, strainy, white hair covering the scalp, but what threw clive off the most, were the four arms, covered by dark skin, veins pulsating blue and something inside Clive roiled and roared.
Ifrit was restless, straining his claws, wanting to burst out and Clive was willing to let him, to prime in hopes he could burn away the fear that was rising inside him, but Ifrit couldn't. Something had shackled him and Clive felt a cold race through his body. Years ago, Clive had been paralyzed by a Waloeder mage in battle once and the only reason he was still standing to this day, had been Biast fast reaction in taking out the man, or he would have been an easy prey for the opposing knights. This felt no different.
He wanted to run, wanted to flee, but his body was stone and deaf to his wishes and his desperation. Ifrit was raging against invisible shackles, roaring in anger, while the aether was now thick enough on Clive's tongue that it seemed to coat it, when the being slipped towards him, feet not touching the ground one arm outstretched.
"Now we shall become one."
The voice was cold and empty, words spoken in a language that Clive not knew and yet understood, each syllable vibrating in his body and the fear rose to unmeasurable heights, when he felt the palm on his forehead, the fingers in his hair. Ifrit grew desperate, but neither could move. Clive didn't want this to be the end.
"A most suitable vessel.”
Clive felt a creeping darkness in the back of his mind, like a wave of blighted water lapping at his consciousness, eating away at it. But he ground his teeth against it, clung to the memories that began to wither and the Blessing shrieked underneath it all, and even though his body refused to move, the wings of the Phoenix spread wide on his back, feathers infused with fire and they closed around him, burning and searing the presence that recoiled, but only for a moment, before it threw itself against the flames and the wings were wiped out, feathers torn away by an unseen storm.
A soundless scream wanted to pass over Clive's unmoving lips, when the being tilted it's head.
“Most unexpected. The vessels strength far exceeds our expectations. More power is necessary to bend it to our will.”
The aether began to settle in his bones and around his body, throttling him, suffocating and Clive could feel it tear away his thoughts, burning a hole somewhere deep inside him. If taking Bahamut had been painful, this was nothing short of agonizing. White hot pain erased the hold on his body and giving up, his knees hit the floor hard and without a halt. But he didn't even feel the impact, back arching and this time, Clive heard himself scream until his voice was hoarse. But the flow of aether did not stop, white and hot and blinding and Clive raged against it..
... and the inferno embraced it, overpowered it and blinding pain became a flashover of bright yellow flames. Ifrit held against it with his hellfire, making the aether his own and all Clive could do, was bearing the pain, screaming and wailing against what became too much, when he felt himself curl into a ball... and then everything faded to white.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still and Clive wasn't sure what had happened, when he heard the voice again, softer this time, further away and he realized that the blighted darkness had disappeared. Ifrit was still agitated, but free and ready... but inside him... next to Bahamut...
“This is most unexpected. We will contemplate.”
Clive opened his eyes, focusing on white and blue in front of his face... feathers, glowing and shivering with aether, full to the brim with it and the moment he unfolded his cramping limbs, the wings did too, spanning to their full width and Clive realized at once, that they were larger than those of the Phoenix and four of them. Strong enough to actually keep him afloat above the ground, unlike the Blessing. His heart hammered in his chest und his breath was still ragged, while he tried to find his bearings. What had just happened?
His feet touched the ground and Clive just couldn't hold himself up, this time his body refusing because there was simply nothing left anymore. Exhausted by the pain, and crumbling like a house of cards in a storm, he crashed onto the floor, wondering for a moment if he would even stop breathing if he wouldn't do it consciously in that very moment. Each draw felt as if he was trying to inhale glass and fire. He was feeling hot and cold at the same time, his fingers twitching restlessly and uncontrolled. Right now, he just wanted to sleep...
A hand at his back spread warmth over his whole body, and Clive felt the heat being dampened and the cold being melted, the pain seeping away like poison being drained from a wound. He took a shaking breath, then another before he was rolled onto his back, Joshua's face coming into view, face worried and distraught and when Clive looked to the other side, he saw the emotions mirrored on Jill's all the same.
“Clive?” Joshuas voice, still soft in his ears but getting clearer. “Clive!”
“I hear you,” he replied and his tongue felt like a stone in his mouth, still coated thick with aether and the words came out in a slur. If a Dominant could get drunk on aether, that was most likely how it felt and it was an experience that he didn’t want to repeat. Clive had never been one for cakes and ale and the hangover that followed, and this was definitely worse, than anything he had felt before - maybe aside from the weeks after Night of the Flames and the Branding.
Finally Clive found enough strength to pull away from Joshua and the healing flames of the Phoenix, rolling onto his side and then from all fours into sitting on his haunches. His head was swimming, but soon after he was able to get back onto his feet, even though his knees still felt like warm wax and Jill had her hand underneath his elbow.
“What happened?” she asked worriedly, before she unhooked the waterskin from Clive’s belt and handed it to him. “Small sips,” she admonished with a smile, when Clive gulped down half of it and then took another big swallow to rinse his mouth to get rid of the taste of aether, death and fear.
Shaking his head, he looked at where his adversary had been standing, but nothing was there, not even the scorch marks of the Phoenix’s flames, that should have burned itself into the floor. “I don’t know, but did you hear what that thing was saying?”
Joshua nodded darkly. “It called you it’s vessel and that it would become one with you? I have never heard that language in my life, but I understood it.”
“It was the same for me,” Jill added.
“It felt like drowning.” Clive’s voice was still hoarse, breaking in between and he was pretty sure, that all his screaming hadn’t done him any favors, but the pain had been too overwhelming. “Like a wave trying to swallow who I am, what I am, washing away my memories, my feelings, but Ifrit raged against it and so did I.” Lifting his hand, Clive tugged on the aether and it came readily to him, shades of blue curling around his fingers and his hand. The color was different from Bahamut’s and it also felt different. Strong, powerful… and somehow wrong.
Joshua’s frown deepened. “Did you absorb that creature’s power? Just like you did with Bahamut?”
“It felt like it, but it was a lot stronger and it was like being flayed alive from the inside,” Clive replied, closing his hand into a fist and the magic disappeared. “The pain is gone now and it feels normal, but it is there - that power, that strength.” Concentrating on it, Clive could sense it right there underneath his fingertips and when he brushed over it, he could feel the construct that held the wings at his back form out of thin air and his feet lifted off the ground, the feathers spread wide. The power flowing through him was intoxicating, but he did not like how it had happened - not that he had ever yearned for power at all. It felt as wrong as Bahamut’s, but for different reasons. Bahamut had been taken by force, but it had been an accident. This power had been given freely, but he did not want it. The only thing that felt right, where the flames and the Inferno - Phoenix and Ifrit.
Clive let go of the wings and shook his head. "I don't think I absorbed all of it's power either," he whispered. "This was just a fragment, but it feels as if I carry another Eikon inside me." He balled his hand into a fist, leather creaking and metal plating scratching against each other, before he straightened his back and nodded towards the still open path they had come. "Let's go home. We won't find any answers here and I need fresh air."
The way back to the surface was uneventful compared to their adventure downward and Clive was grateful for it, his body screaming at him to rest and do nothing. Eastpool was half a days ride away and they had no idea how much time they had actually spend underground. Clive was loathe to camp at the stronghold, but if night was already falling, there was no way they could leave. While the Blight hadn't yet swallowed Phoenix Gate, it had taken the road between it and Eastpool. Normally travelers made a wide berth around the area, but that was no surprise. Nobody these days had reason to go further than Eastpool, for Phoenix Gate had become the haunted mansion from Clive's many books. He just had never thought to play the main role in it.
The sky was dark above their heads when they left the alcove, stepping into the high grass that had grown all over the ruin in the last decade. Clive took a deep breath, the cold night air burning in his lungs just right, finally washing away the taste of aether. For a moment he just allowed this calming darkness to clear his thoughts before he turned to Joshua and Jill.
"I'm loath to stay, but we are protected here," he sighed. "We should try to find a way to bring the chocobos in and make camp, praying we are not sleeping on some poor bastard's bones."
"We could bring the chocobos into the yard and let them sleep outside, while we make camp in the hall of the gate," Joshua suggested, rolling his shoulders underneath his heavy coat.
Raising a brow, Clive looked at his brother. "You have even less regards for our holy sites than I do, not that there was anything holy or sacred down there. What was that mural, I wonder."
"I will leave you two to your musings and to preparing a fire, while I get the birds," Jill offered and before either of the men could say something, she had disappeared with Torgal into the night.
Clive felt Joshua's hand on his shoulder, turning when he felt him squeeze it softly. "Let's find some firewood, then we'll prepare a place to stay downstairs," he suggested. "And once we have eaten, you can tell us exactly what happened."
Notes:
In case you are wondering, yes, Clive did swallow part of Ultima's power when the latter became to cocky and thought he can take him just like that, but since Clive is aware of Ifrit this time and doesn't need to face the truth and has already stronger bonds with Jill and Joshua, he had a better ground to stand on and toppled Ultima for the moment, which gives him now this ability set as well and those stunning four wings.
Chapter 12: Louder than Words
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They spend the night in a corner of the hall of the gate, a fire merrily burning a bit further away from them, keeping them warm and allowing them to cook something small for them. And it was needed, since Clive felt a lot better once he had the stew in his stomach. He was still sore and he knew he would be for a bit, but it helped. While Torgal protected the chocobos outside, Clive laid out the events from before, trying to be as detailed as he could, since he knew that this experience would be another thing that they would have to let their contacts look into.
Clive had read a lot in his youth, but none of the books he had in between his fingers had ever spoken of a humanoid being like this, especially not one with that amount of power. On the other hand, he also never had a book underneath his hands, that spoke about a second Eikon of Fire with the ability to absorb the strength and abilities of other Eikons and wield them as it's own, and yet here they were.
It was a feeling that filled Clive with dread and unease. If that thing had been capable of nearly wiping his mind once, who was to say, there wouldn't be a second attempt, or a third. What if he hurt Jill or his brother, the people he loved, because he was no longer in control?
Ifrit growled deep inside, his inferno wrapping itself around the fear, easing it, slowly but surely burning it away. Now that they both knew what to look out for, it would not happen again. It was not a feeling that Clive would ever forget, even if he wanted to.
He had barely slept that night, blaming the proximity to the Apodytery and what had happened for his restlessness. Joshua and Jill seemed to accept it, although Clive could feel one of them always being awake when he woke up himself. They were more worried about him that they let on and somehow Clive couldn't blame either of them. If the same thing had happened to Jill or Joshua, he would be no different than they were now.
The cleared out their small camp the next morning with the sunrise, leaving no trace that they had repurposed the hall that way, before leading their chocobos out of the ruin and onto the road to Eastpool. The way there was nothing but depressing. The Blight had swallowed the once lush and green forests, the thick grass that had covered the way to the huge tower of the Fallen that nobody had ever set foot in. The crystal clear water of the river had long since darkened and while there had been times, that one could see to the ground of it, it was now a muddy, dirty stream, devoid of life.
Once again the change from his memories to the present was more than jarring for Clive and he shuddered at it. All these years lost, not only for him, but the land around him as well.
The welcome in Eastpool was small but heartfelt, since only Lady Hanna obviously had been told of their arrival and she had honored their wishes of keeping the attention to the minimum. A stable boy took their chocobos from them, while Lady Hanna led them into the house, well aware of the fact that Clive had once again pulled up his hood to hide his face and his brand likewise. Inside the house though, he found himself in a bone-crushing hug, Hanna weeping tears of joy and pain, her calloused fingertips tracing the brand and even though Clive flinched and wanted to shy away from it, he tried not to. He knew that she meant no harm, but somehow he still couldn't keep these reflexes under control.
So far, only Jill could cover and touch his brand without him tensing and shaking like a caged animal.
They stayed in Eastpool for another two days, Clive catching up on the sleep he had been missing and also getting the rest he needed after the encounter. He hadn't known how much strength all of that had cost him, until he slept through one night and didn't manage to get up until the next midday, his muscles still screaming in protest.
They made their way back to Rosalith after that, but in a way more set pace for they were no longer riding alone, escorting Lady Hanna to the capital to be present for the celebrations instead of her husband. Clive could see in her face, what she thought about that, but he decided not to comment on it, since she was very similar to him in that regard.
The celebrations were what Clive feared the most, since if he had learned one thing already in his childhood, than it was the fact that even with shields posted, drunken guests would find their way into every corner of the castle and that had once even included Joshua's quarters, soon after Clive had become his shield. Needless to say the guest had fled the moment they had been greeted by the First Shield with a fire spell already burning up his arm.
Clive had no doubt that it would be similar this time and he wondered if he should simply make a run for it and find out if his own little hideaway was still existing or if the treehouse at the rookery had long since given into the elements.
The preparations were already in full force when they rode into the bailey even though the celebrations were still a day away and Elwin greeted them, before taking a pretty massive coffer from Hanna's chocobo, that she had insisted needed personal delivering to the Archduke. Neither of them had questioned it.
Feeling the foreign aether underneath his fingertips Clive wondered what was lying ahead of them, but before he could ponder more on it, the day of the festivities had arrived.
All in all, the throne room would serve as room for talk and dance, a small group of musicians there to provide for both, while the upper areas were accessible on the left side as place for more quite conversations, but shields would protect the quarters of Joshua and Jill, which were situated on that side from intrusion. Wade and Tyler had volunteered for that right away upon hearing the plans. Two more shields were stationed a few feet away from the balcony, where a wallscreen had set up to build an obvious barrier to keep wandering guests away from Clive's quarters and the same went for the stairs on the right side.
Clive had offered at one point to simply spend the night at the rookery, but this his father had declined, refusing to let the celebrating and drunken hoards of nobles take over the entire castle. Especially on expanse of the duchy and Elwin regretted the funds he had to use on this celebration instead of putting it in place where it was needed, like education and better payment for the soldiers these nobles claimed to celebrate. The same soldiers they had to put on duty to keep them in check.
Shaking his head, Clive weaved through the countless market stalls that lined along the whole road to the castle and the bailey itself. Since their return from Phoenix Gate, Clive had made it a habit to keep the hood up and pulled deep into his face to avoid being seen and so far, it had served him well, even though he knew that most people made way especially because of his imposing and intimidating frame and appearance.
While the nobles began to arrive in the bailey, sauntering towards the massive gates, Clive opted for the side entrance to stay out of sight. The last errand his father had send him on in the name of Lady Hanna had taken him longer than thought due to all the commotion and now he had to improvise. Making his way to the inner garden he passed the kitchens before slipping to the stairs that would bring him to his quarters, throwing back the hood to show the shields who he was and they nodded.
Setting the items aside that he had picked up for Lady Hanna, he took off his armor until only his basic clothes remained. As long as he didn't plan on leaving the room, there was no reason for him to play dress up even more than necessary. Not that he actually had a formal wear by now. He had left the castle for the frontlines faster than the seamstress had been able to go into that, since they simply didn't have the right materials for it and Clive hadn't minded. Especially not with the prospect of having a robe as heavy as his father... and as impractical. Even Murdoch's official formal wear was heavy and unpractical, the breastplate more a hinderance than a protection and Clive would need to have words with his father about that. If they wanted to put him in formal wear, it had to be wear that could be used and that wasn't tying him down like fetters.
The soft knocking on the door ripped him out of his dreaming and Clive looked up, Torgal lifting his head from his spot near the balcony, where a large blanket had been spread out for him.
"Enter," Clive called, straightening his back, in case his father was waiting on the other side of the door. It was not necessary, but an unconscious movement, that had been ingrained into Clive since his childhood, when he had still been a true shield of Rosaria and not this aberration out of Bearer and Dominant, monster and man, slave and marquess, shield and murderer.
His thoughts were cut short, when Lady Hanna entered the room, balancing a tray in her hands, her dress way too noble and too expensive for her to be carrying around kitchenware. Eyes wide, Clive jumped forward and took it off her hands, laden with a bowl of soup, some pieces of bread, cheese and cured ham, a pitcher of water with a goblet making the plate even more uneven in it's weight. Placing the tray on the table, Clive looked at her in surprise, not even trying to hide it. And why should he? The Lord Commander had his full trust and so did his wife.
"Lady Hanna, what are you doing here?" he asked softly. "Are you alright?"
Hanna smiled and chuckled. "You definitely haven't changed," she remarked and Clive nodded to the chair at the table for her to sit down. If she could sit down with that dress, but with some rearranging she managed to get the many layers of skirts under control. Clive took the seat on the other side of the table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "Only you would ask if I am alright, while it has been you, who hasn't eaten anything since the morning and even that, was way too little for a grown man like you. The kitchen had this plate prepared for you ahead of the festivities already and your father asked me to bring it to you, since I know the halls of the castle and can remain a ghost and a shadow. Besides, I have been in between these nobles for long enough now, that House Murdoch was thoroughly present and accounted for. I don't need more of their gossiping, rumormongering and blackmailing. Or their cutting looks at the lack of heirs to the House."
Clive sighed. Lady Hanna and Lord Murdoch never had children of their own and so they had doted on Clive, Jill and Joshua whenever they could and whenever they had been in Eastpool. It felt like a lifetime ago and even though he tried, he could barely remember these days, buried underneath the years of darkness and pain as they were. Jill, Joshua and his father had helped a lot in pulling back the rare good times out of the swamp of agony, but he still needed time.
"I'm sorry, Lady Hanna," he offered softly, but Hanna frowned.
"For what are you sorry, child?" she asked and her hand reached out to him, brushing over the brand on his cheek and this time he flinched visibly, unable to stop himself. They both froze, but when Clive turned away in shame, she simple moved her hand down to his shoulder and squeezed it tightly. "I don't think, there is anything that would give you a reason to apologize for. That my husband and I were never graced with children is not something that can be blamed on you, even though I'm sure your mother would do even that, if it suited her. And that brand is not a stain on your character, it's a stain on those, who marked you with it."
Clive sighed and turned his eyes downward. "What I've done after receiving it, is my burden to bear though," he replied. He didn't want Lady Hanna's pity. He didn't deserve it.
"You had no choice. You did your master's bidding to survive."
He shook his head. "It is easy to blame them for what I've done, but it was my hand that swung the sword."
The silence that followed was deafening, before Clive reached out to a piece of bread and ham, and took a bite to keep himself occupied. He wasn't really hungry, the conversation driving that away, but he needed something to busy his hands with.
"And Jill?" Hanna asked softly.
Looking up, Clive frowned. "What about her?" he asked carefully, but Hanna just smiled wistfully.
"Clive, I might not have seen you grow up, but I'm friends with your father since decades and I was there in the years after your brother awoke. You guard your feelings well and for an outsider the mask you wear is impenetrable," Hanna replied, before she reached out and took one of his hands in hers, squeezing it. "But I see the small signs that not even thirteen years of slavery could take. The way you smile, the way you look to the side and avoid my eyes. Yes, it's normal for a Branded to look away and not make direct contact, but in your case with the way turn your head... that is your father's mannerism through and through." Hanna sighed. "You love Jill, don't you? And the feeling is mutual."
"I love her more than you know," Clive sighed, because hiding seemed to be futile. "But the longer I love her, the more I realize how dangerous it is for the both of us. A wiser man would have buried his feelings, but I was weak..."
"You were human," Hanna cut him off. "And it's not as if you just found out, what she is to you, isn't it? I know that cared for her as a teenager already. Why else would you have taken her to Mann's Hill to cheer her up. A friend might do that, but I saw the way you looked at her the few times I was at the castle. For a 15-year-old you weren't easy to read, but easy enough for me. After all, I fell for my husband, when I was no older than you."
Clive sighed, fingertips trailing down the brand on his cheek, once again burning painfully as if it wanted to remind him, what he was and what he would be for the rest of his life. A prisoner inside his own skin.
Taking another bite from his dinner, Clive forced himself to chew, before he looked up. "Tell me about how life has been treating you, Lady Hanna," he asked softly, and by the way she sighed, Clive knew that she didn't agree with his change of topic, but she humored him and nodded, telling him of the days after the Fall of Phoenix Gate, showing him the story from her side, while he forced down one piece of food after the other, until nothing was left.
The knock on the door threw both off their conversation and Clive frowned, before he got up from the chair and then carefully opened the door, looking first who it was, since he seriously didn't want to deal with any drunk guests. He frowned, starting to worry in the same moment. "Jill?" he asked. "What's wrong?" He opened the door for her fully and she stepped into the room.
Lady Hanna was on her feet the next moment, and closed the distance to Jill right away, taking her hand. "What's the matter, child?"
Jill took a deep breath, before she looked at Clive, her eyes showing her unease and distress quite clearly for Clive to see. Strangers might not be able to read Jill the way Clive could, but for him she was an open book. "The nobles cornered your father, saying that they never had proof that you are who you claim to be. That you could be an imperial Bearer, that was sent to spy on the ducal family," she explained. "We tried to explain them, that many of the present shields saw you fight and prime, using the Blessing, but they want to see it for themselves."
"And the nobles we already met before we returned to the front?" Clive asked, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Jill gave a very not lady like snort, that made Lady Hanna raise a brow. "They are nobles," she snarled. "What do you expect? They now say that meeting you was not enough of a proof. They want to see the Blessing."
"As if any of these arrogant cocksuckers could differ the Blessing from any other magic," Hanna growled. Clive and Jill both took a double turn and stared at her for a moment, before she shrugged with a small smile. "I'm not lying."
Chuckling softly, Clive shook his head. "No Lady Hanna, you are not." Turning to Jill he took the hand Hanna had been holding. "I assume there is no getting out of this."
"Neither of us could see one, since they don't even accept Joshua's insistence, that he can feel the Blessing, now that you are up close again," Jill explained, her fingers tightening around Clive's now. She hated it as much as he did, but if Jill saw no way out, Clive was sure there wasn't.
"Alright then," he whispered, before he leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to her forehead, knowing that Lady Hanna wouldn't mind the show of affection and it was for both of their benefit. To center themselves in each other, reinforcing that they weren't alone and that the other one was there and standing by. Clive had once told Jill, that he loved her, but he just couldn't help the feeling that words were not enough and he wanted to show her. One day he would show her. Letting go of her, he took a deep breath. "Lead the way, my lady."
She nodded, and then returned his gesture but differently by softly kissing him onto the lips, just a brush of hers over his, but it was as if Ramuh had shocked his system. She was so soft, her lips so pliant when he returned the proof of affection and he wanted time to end and just stopped, so they could shut out the world forever and just stay, falling into each other.
But Clive knew they couldn't and so he stepped back, framing her face with his hands. "Together," he whispered and she nodded.
It took them another long minute to actually leave the room and Clive rolled his shoulders underneath his white shirt, since trying to force himself into some at least half formal wear was no use in that moment. What he wore mattered little, if he didn't hold himself the way he should. The way a Lord Marquess should. He followed Jill with the appropriate distance, before he straightened his back on the stairs, well knowing that it pronounced his quite massive frame even more, but maybe it was for the best.
When Clive entered the throne room, the conversations seemed to come to a halt in an instant and the musicians finished their piece - even though Clive was sure, that they had actually cut it short - and then there was nothing but the sound of breathing and the shuffling of clothes in the room. It was unsettling, it was uncomfortable and it triggered every flight reflex that Clive ever had. He felt like a sheep that was being led to the slaughter and he saw the torment on his father's face.
He didn't want it either.
Recalling his manners, Clive walked to the throne, before he went down to one knee, lowering his head. "You commanded my presence, your Grace. How may I serve you?"
Clive heard his father take a deep breath that sounded like a hiss and his memories supplied him with a reason the next instant, remembering too well that he had spoken the same words that day, when his father had given him his first assignment. The assignment to clear out Stillwind Marshes, while he and Joshua made for Phoenix Gate. How had fate screwed them over.
"Rise," his father said and despite the sound of his voice, Clive could hear the shudder in this one word. The disdain of what he had to do to him. The disgust, that Clive had to prove himself to some arrogant nobles, because they saw their status and wealth threatened by the return of the Lord Marquess. "Lady Warrick told you, why I requested your presence?"
"Yes, your Grace," Clive replied, head still bowed and still on one knee, before he finally pushed himself up and faced his father for real. The anguish in his eyes was plain to see and if it wasn't for the nobility in the room, he would have never demanded this of Clive. When had they these people gained that much standing again?
Leaning forward, Elwin got up from the throne. "Would you present to us the Blessing of the Phoenix, to prove your heritage and credibility?" That the Archduke hadn't throttled any of the nobles was definitely a feat, Clive had to admit that.
Giving his father a sight bow, Clive nodded, before he turned around to face the nobles. He would not give them even one weakness they could dig into. Not this time and so he reached out deep into himself and felt for the piece of his brother that had guided him and led him through the thirteen years of darkness. Yes, Ifrit had kept him alive most of the time, had kept him walking, but the Phoenix had always been that light that had made Clive get up again, after he had fallen, because getting up, Ifrit had been able to do - but making him holding on, Ifrit had not.
The Phoenix's song was warm underneath his fingertips and then the firebird burst forward and wrapped itself around his frame, warming him, putting his soul at ease and the translucent wings with feathers of crimson and emerald unfolded in his back when he only brushed over the aether, fire infusing them and Clive allowed them to flap one, twice, before folding them back down, letting go of the aether and leaving the nobles in a stunned silence.
If the whole things wouldn't have such a bad taste, Clive would have laughed at their faces. There was astonishment and awe, but mostly shock and anger for their schemes had been put down, before they had even been able to begin. If they didn't believe their own eyes and the wings of the Phoenix, then there was no hope.
It was Joshua, who was stepping forward now and Clive could feel him coming up right behind him, pulling on the aether in a semi-prime and then he pushed forward his own wings, a mirror of those of Clive, and he didn't even need to see them, to know they were identical. The nobles murmured turning at each other, whispering and pointing at the both of them, not caring what a rude gesture it was towards the Lord Marquess and the Phoenix. They seemed to have lost all respect for the ducal throne and maybe it really was time to weed out there lines, but that was a matter for another day.
Joshua let go of his semi-prime and the wings, stepping out of Clive's shadow to stand next to him. "Was this demonstration enough to confirm my brother's identity?" Joshua asked, his voice echoing from the walls and the ceiling. It was partly a challenge in itself, to see which of the nobles would be stupid enough to speak up against Joshua.
Clive frowned at the ongoing whispering and threw a look at Joshua, the frown etched onto his brother's face as well. These nobles still had something up their sleeve. They could no longer discredit Clive as an imposter and a fraud, but... Clive's blood ran cold, his mind reaching the conclusion in a matter of moments. But they could ruin is reputation by forcing him into doing something that would make him a laughing stock in front of the highborn and with that, he would bring dishonor upon his whole house, because in that moment many of the high society wanted nothing more than to see house Rosfield burn in one way or another, for they had fallen into disgrace the moment Anabella had fled.
"Rejoice, the Lord Marquess has returned," one of the nobles suddenly said, lifting his wine goblet high into the hair for a toast, but Clive saw the glint in his eyes and the way the corner of his mouth twitched, barely hiding the resentment behind a false smile. "Would it not be perfect, that the Lord Marquess will lead the dance of the Founder to celebrate his wonderful return?"
The wish to burn the arrogant bastard into a tiny pile of ash and dust was overwhelming and it took Clive all his willpower, not to send a fireball straight through the room and into the face of the man. A face that Clive had never forgotten, for he had gone in and out of the castle on nearly daily basis with his wife, when his mother had still been the Duchess. They wanted to make a fool of him, by making him stumble over his own feet, forcing him to dance, well knowing that his lessons in that were long past.
They wanted to see the branded aberration falter and fall, and Clive ground his teeth hard enough that for a moment he was sure, that he heard his jaw crack softly.
And then he felt the aether tremble softly, before a cool touch brushed over his own, making Ifrit purr in his chest. It was an invitation that nobody but him could feel and he turned around, stepping around his brother and extended his hand to Jill, before going down onto one knee, the other hand on his chest. "My lady?" he asked softly and Jill replied with a smile and a curtsey. Oh, Clive was well aware that Jill was dressed for the nobility - her dress a flowing combination of silk and velvet, blue shifting to white with golden embroideries and intricate bindings on the sides, while he was dressed like a pauper.
"My lord," she said softly, before placing her hand in his and she allowed him to lead her into the middle of the throne room, all the nobles now at the walls to the side to give them space. They would teach them that playing with a Rosfield was playing with fire and trying to backstab Jill meant being frozen after having been burned to ashes.
Clive took her hand in his, before he carefully placed his other hand on her hip, mindful to keep the required distance between them and Jill mirrored his movement and pose. The music began to play and Clive started to move, pulling Jill along and falling into the routine of his lessons from long past and the new steps, they had taught each other in these quiet evenings after he had returned home from the frontline. They had danced without music, just floating through the library, quietly talking and laughing and pulling one another in so that there was no space between them, chest to chest, Clive's arms wrapped around her lower back, which Jill's around his neck.
There was a bigger distance between them now, but the steps were the same and when the music picked up the pace, so did Clive and Jill was with him every step of it, allowing him to whirl her in a pirouette, before turning her back to him, leading her with him, then turning again, so they were face to face and some more inches closer to each other. They twirled and floated, taunted and attacked, fell into each other and pulled away and Clive had to admit to himself that - circumstances be damned - he enjoyed it.
He reveled in the flush in Jill's cheeks, the way her silver hair danced in the light of the candles and braziers, the way her dress spread and flew whenever he made a quick turn with her, the way she smiled at him, whenever their eyes met and the feeling of her warm hand in his. When he turned her around, he could inhale her scent of snowdaisies and lavender, a scent he had come to associate with her since their shared bath.
She was so intoxicatingly close and her smile the moon and stars in the darkest of nights. He wanted her to be closer, wanted no distance between them, no breath of air to separate them from the other and with the change of the music, something inside him that was parched to the point of painful rose underneath his hands and with it rose the aether, floating, reacting and Clive fell into it, felt the four wings manifest - spread wide and shuddering, feathers shimmering blue and white. His mind didn't dwell on the fact that he hadn't drawn from the Blessing of the Phoenix as he normally would, but what had been forced upon him. Yet in that moment it didn't matter, it felt right.
The decision was made in that very moment and as the wings folded around them, blocking the world and everyone in it, sheltering them and their dreams, Clive placed his lips on Jill's, kissing her and she complied with a sigh and a moan, returning the gesture, allowing him to mingle and dance, tongues intertwined and Clive's hands ran over her back, the pull on the aether now stronger than before and Jill's ice reacted with him, brushing over his fire and the moment, the wings spread wide and Clive turned her in another wild flurry of movements, they both had semi-primed.
Clive could feel the shock of the people around them more than he saw and heard it, since he had only eyes for Jill. He had never seen her semi-primed and even his recollection of her primed state was unclear to say the least, since he had been exhausted and focused on Dion at that point. He had no doubt, that Shiva was a beauty to behold, for Jill was a goddess of ice in her own right. Blue, pulsating veins spanned her face and her eyes were glowing, the cold a soothing chill for his inferno that ran through his body, melting fingers into claws of lava and stone.
Even now, their steps fell easily into each other, both long forgotten where they were, bodies flush against each other, tempering the heat, melting the snow and Shiva's cape danced along with Jill's skirts, sleets of ice that allowed them to skate the halls were melted by the inferno and water turned to steam in a matter of moments. There was no lost step and no wrong move, the dance of two beings turned into a movement of one soul and one mind.
And then the music ended and the aether fell away from them with their semi-primes, as if someone had pulled away the blanket that had covered their senses and Clive realized that he was breathing through his mouth, barely able to register anything around him, for his senses were still flooded with everything that was Jill. Her scent, her eyes, her hands in his and despite his desire to kiss her, he allowed her to float out of his embrace and they bowed in front of each other - officially ending the dance and the spectacle and Clive knew he had to take his leave now, one way or another or he would take Jill by the hand and drag her with him somewhere, where nobody could see them.
The feeling was frozen, then withered and died, the very moment he saw the looks of the nobles around them. If he had one of them against himself at the beginning of the evening, it was now needless to say, that all of them had turned and whatever advantage he had once, were gone up in smoke. Clive could feel his brand burn and sting, the ink a foul irritation of his skin. A reminder of what he was to them and what he was outside of the walls of Rosalith Castle.
He saw Jill's smile falter, and he realized, that his feelings had been clear for her to see and he could see the pain in her eyes, when he stepped back and trying to keep the appearances, they both returned to the throne and flanked the Archduke to either side, until music and conversation had resumed and with a nod from Elwin, they both were dismissed.
Clive could not get back into his quarters fast enough.
Notes:
The music that I used most for this scene and that I had in my head is totally not fitting for the time and age the game plays in but it was Lindsey Stirling's "The Upside" in case someone is curious. The visual of Clive unfolding the wings and hiding behind them to kiss Jill was something I had in my mind for a while, but it was in between the talks with Steff_Rosfield, that I switched it to the wings of Ultima for better cover, after all that are four and they are a lot bigger.
Chapter 13: Fire and Ice
Notes:
Explicit sexual content coming up in case someone needs to hide the site or move reading to a lunch break or whatever...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Closing the door behind him, Clive took a few stumbling steps forward, breath still coming in harsh bursts and his mind was running in circles. What the hell had he been thinking? Had he even thought at all? Kissing behind the wings had been one thing, but when they had danced semi-primed, they had forgotten about everything else. If they had fucked on the floor, it wouldn't have been less obvious. Everything would get even more complicate now, and Clive had only himself to blame for it.
"Fuck," he growled, hands balled into fists. On the frontlines, it hadn't mattered if Jill had slept in the same tend with him, if they had touched. The Shields had their assumptions and respected them, for only their credibility on the battlefield had been important, and they had never given them any reason to doubt them there.
But nobles were a whole other problem, especially those nobles that had never given up on their radical views - the views they had shared with Clive's dearest mother.
The sound of the doorhandle being pushed, and the soft squeaking of the hinges made Clive tense automatically and reach for a sword that wasn't there, but the steps on the floor were soundless and the shiver in the aether made it clear, who had dared to enter. The door fell closed and he heard the lock being turned, shutting the world out for good. But Clive couldn't let go, body still taut like a bow string.
"Clive?" Jill's voice was nothing but a soft whisper, her hand a comforting weight between his shoulder blades. She could feel the way he held himself and he knew that it would only add to her worry. "Talk to me, I beg of you."
Clive took a shaking breath, trying to force down the unease that was like a stone in his stomach, but constantly rising as if it wanted to choke him right there. He didn’t turn around, instead continued to stare into the room, at his bed, the still flickering flames in the fireplace. Lady Hanna must have put more wood in, before she had left as well and she had taken Torgal with her, for the hound was no where to be found in his quarters. But this realization was not why he was standing here, unmoving like a statue. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, breath exhaling in a rush. “I should have never let it come so far, should have kept you at a distance. But now I have endangered your life needlessly.”
For a second it seems as if the world was holding it's breath, but then he heard Jill's fast steps over the floor, sometimes nearly silent when they walked over the carpets and suddenly she was in his field of view, frowning. "I don't understand," she said and before Clive could turn away from her, she had his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her and Clive didn't dare to close his eyes. It was eerie, frightening and yet so comforting how easy she was able to see through him.
Taking a shaking breath, Clive brought his own up and wrapped them around her wrists, but he just held her there, didn't force her to let go of him. Deep down he didn't want her to let go, he wanted her to hold him tightly while he said what the had to say and once this was out, he would accept whatever would come to pass. "These nobles down in the hall are arrogant, egoistic and cruel, but unfortunately they are also cunning and not stupid," he whispered. "If we had just danced the way etiquette demands it, they might not have suspected anything, but..." Clive took a deep breath. "Even if the kiss was hidden, the way we danced when we were semi-primed was not. They are not as blind as to not realize, what you are to me."
"And how is this a problem?" Jill asked softly and now Clive lifted his head, raised it far enough so her hands fell from his cheeks down to his neck and his shoulders.
The black ink of the brand felt as if it was swallowing the light of the fire like a swamp was drowning a careless victim. "It doesn't matter to them, if I am the Lord Marquess," he hissed. "For them my rank has lost all meaning the moment Sanbreque engraved me with this brand. Just like my mother, they only ever needed one excuse to rip me apart and the brand gave them that, not caring that my initial magic was the blessing and not caring that I am a Dominant. All they want is to put me in my place... the place they think I belong in." He took a shuddering breath, the soft light of the fire reflecting in Jill's eyes and on her hair.
"Without my rank to protect me, they will reduce me to what they think I am... what I am still. I'm a Branded and you know, what will happen if they find out, that you lie with the likes of me. That you bedded a Bearer. They won't care that we are both Dominants; they won't care that you were a warden of the duchy and hold the rank of the highest female in the the nation. All they will see, is a woman who dared to sleep with a slave and they will judge you for it. With words, with actions and with violence. I cannot and I won't object you to that kind of treatment."
"Clive..." Jill said softly, her hands now flat against his broad chest. She was warm, but he could feel her shake.
"I am yours, no matter what was and no matter what will happen," he whispered and breathed a kiss onto her forehead. "I just wish I could be yours without hiding, could be yours without holding back."
There was a long moment of silence, but then Jill shook her head. "I don't care," she hissed, before she looked up, unshed tears glistening in her eyes and her hands balled into fists. "I don't care what these nobles think and what they believe we are. Yes, we danced and we primed, but as long as they cannot proof their accusations, they have nothing against us. Not to mention that I want to see any of them standing up against an Eikon, not to mention two or three. Your brother would never let any of this stay unanswered, you know this just as well as I do."
Now it was Clive, who framed Jill's face with his hands, tracing her soft lips with his thumbs. "But I'm afraid of the risk," he replied softly, before he kissed her on the forehead. "The thought of losing you, because of what I am is tearing me apart. I don't think it would be something I could recover from. Not this, not after all we have been through."
"Then we just have to be careful," Jill breathed. "I will not let you go, Clive. Not now, not ever. Brand or not, you are human and you are the one I want by my side, here in this moment and the future we will share."
Inhaling the air that was shared between them, Clive let his eyes fall closed and just allowed himself to sink into her touch and her scent, his senses taking in all of her that was there. The feeling of her velvet skin underneath his fingertips, the scent of snowdaises and lavender, the taste of her on his lips and the soft breaths, that brushed along his bare neck. He lost himself in her grey eyes, so deep and endless and so full of affection and love. A love he was undeserving of and yet. He wanted to taste heaven, wanted to taste the skies for she was all of it. The sanctuary for his torn soul and the horizon that allowed him to spread his wings.
The kiss was soft and tender, a brush of his lips over hers. "Stay with me," he breathed. "And if the world comes crashing down tomorrow, let us have this moment."
"The world will not come crashing down," she replied and Clive felt an icy chill in her words, Shiva's presence suddenly so much stronger and nearly palpable. "I will not allow it, for I will not lose what I have, and that is you, that is our future and that are our memories. Those memories no one can take. And yet if they truly are the only things we can hold onto, then I want more. So let's make new ones. And I will hoard them as a dragon does her gold – for my memories with you are the most precious of all."
"Together then?" he whispered against her lips and for the first time, since he had left the throne room, he felt an honest smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"Always."
And suddenly the world seemed to be so much easier and clearer than before, and Clive surged forward, claiming her mouth hungrily, his hands roaming over the back of her dress, along the edges of the corset that held most of it in place, his teeth nibbling at her earlobe, softly tugging on hear earrings. She hissed under her breath, but her hands did not stop to card through his hair and down his chest, before her fingers began to tug on his shirt in earnest, trying to get it out of his pants and this time, Clive chuckled, before he caught her hands.
"Slow down," he growled affectionately, brushing his lips over hers, the words rumbling in his chest and he could feel his heart hammer against his ribs. Could she feel it too? "Are you sure about this? I doubt I'll be able to hold back this time."
She smiled, a soft blush dusting her cheeks, her fingers winding themselves out of Clive's grip, before interlocking again and more comfortable. "You won't have to hold back, there is no reason for it anymore," she breathed. "And I don't want you to hold back. I want all of you."
"Then you'll have me," he growled against her lips, before he made a step back and led her around the couch.
The blankets that they usually wrapped themselves in to stay warm if they slept on the shag carpet were still there, but they wouldn't need them right now. The fire was still merrily crackling away behind the grate and losing one hand from Jill's Clive grabbed another log and placed it in the flames to keep them going. He wanted as much light for as long as possible, he needed it for his only wish was to explore Jill with all his senses and as good as his eyes were, night had long fallen outside the castle and covered everything with in cloak of the deepest indigo.
Letting go of Jill's other hand, he slowly wandered to her back, the tips of his fingers always trailing over her clothing, feeling the materials underneath them, shifting from silk to velvet and he hooked his finger into the bindings at her side, pulling open the knot that held them tight. For a moment we was surprised that Jill had been able to breathe at all in the dress, when he realized how tight the binding had been.
Jill inhaled the air deeply, when his fingers fell away from the knots and Clive wrapped an arm around her midsection, in case she got lightheaded from finally being able to breathe again. She leaned into his embrace, and he kept the grip he had on her, while nibbling along the tendons of her neck, sometimes licking over her skin with a broad stroke, before kissing her underneath her chin to feel her pulse against his lips. He wanted everything from her, wanted to map out her body so he could remember everything in the most detailed way. The way she tasted on his tongue, the little sounds she made whenever he touched her just right, the feeling of her soft skin underneath his fingertips, the way she looked, when she was just letting go of everything, the scent of the soap in her hair.
Still keeping her up, he nuzzled his lips along the back of her neck, brushing her silver hair to one side, before starting to work on the buttons on the back of her dress. It was no wonder, that a lot of ladies in high society needed a few chambermaids to get dressed and ready for elaborate occasions like this, since these dresses were nothing short of a science in itself and if he was the more impatient type of men, Clive was sure he would have simply grabbed a dagger and cut the piece of fabric from her body. When the last button was open, he brushed the topmost gown off her arms and threw it over the back of the couch, before he began to work on the dress underneath, never stopping his wandering hands in between, now able to let them run over the bare flesh of her arms, tickling and brushing over them with featherlight movements.
The fabric finally flew to the side as well and now she was standing in front of him with nothing but her brassiere and her underwear, and Clive surged forward, crushing her to his body in a tight embrace, ravaging her lips with his own, their tongues dancing and fighting and her hands came up into his hair, digging into his scalp without hesitation and doubt. Her hair brushed over his arms like silk and Clive growled softly, his lips back to nipping at her neck and her pulsepoint.
But he needed more; they both needed more and he would let nothing stand in the way this time. The door was locked and by the way the faint music was drifting up from the throne room underneath, they had all the time in the world and were no longer needed in any sort of capacity.
Pulling at the strings for the brassiere, Clive let it fall down from her body and without thinking twice, he was bending down, one nipple in his mouth to suck and lick, bite and caress. Jill moaned audibly, her body trembling underneath his ministrations, her ivory skin shimmering in the light of the fire like the gold. Not stopping, he brought his hand up to caress her other nipple, bringing it to its full attention with soft squeezes and the softest of licks and bites. Jill was shuddering by now, but Clive could see in the way she held herself, that she was far and far away from the state she had been in the last time, and Clive wanted it that way. He wanted to take his time and bring her over the edge with tenderness and love.
His fingers traveled down her sides and then he hooked them int the waistband of her underwear, brushing it down, before gathering it with the rest of her clothes to put it to the side. With the fire crackling merrily beside them, there was no need for clothes, and when Jill opened her eyes, she frowned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her this time.
"You, my Lord Marquess have me at an utter disadvantage here," she purred softly, her lips running along the sharp line of his jaw.
"And how is that?" he growled affectionately, his hands now flat on her rear, softly pinching the flesh, digging his fingertips into it.
"Why because you are wearing a lot more than I do of course." Her hands wandered from his neck down his sides and the moment she reached his waistband, she finally ripped the shirt free of his dark pants and helped him to pull it over his neck. She smiled at him, kissing him down his chin, grazing his adam's apple with her teeth, sucking the hollow of his throat, her hands trailing over his skin, before returning to the waistband of his pants. Her fingers made quick work of the laces on the sides, while Clive pulled off his boots. Easier said than done, with him in that position and refusing himself to break the contact with Jill even for a minute.
His underwear was a mere footnote the moment they had his pants off and they crushed against each other a moment later, lips locked in a tight battle, while their hands roamed and touched wherever they could, exploring, cataloguing, mesmerizing. Clive could feel himself grow hard, but he swore to himself that he wouldn't chase his release until Jill had hers. He wanted to see her come undone, he wanted her to moan his name in nothing but bliss and ecstasy. He wanted her essence on his tongue and her hands in his hair.
"Lie down for me," he commanded softly. "I want to explore you, I want you to relax."
Even the second it took Jill to stretch herself out on the soft carpet seemed to be too much, and Clive's heart was screaming, that he wanted her close, wanted them both to become one, with all they ever wanted an could be.
Looming over Jill for a moment, Clive brushed his lips over hers, smiling at her. "Yours is a beauty of the most divine kind," he whispered.
Chuckling, Jill returned the kiss. "Aren't you a smooth talker, my lord," she replied amusedly, but then her eyes grew soft. "And yet, my divinity is only divine in the eyes of someone of the same mind. And you are all of this, for you have always been my star and my treasure."
Clive froze, his eyes wide. "Jill, I..."
But she just smiled and softly kissed his lips, her hands running over his back. "Make love to me," she breathed. "Let us become one, that the world will never be able to tear us apart again."
Clive leaned forward, sealing her lips with his - ferocious and hard, the passion now overflowing and one kiss turned into many, their tongues dueling, dancing and folding into each other. He was hard against her stomach, but Clive bit back the urge to sink into her the way he wanted it, the way she wanted it. He wanted to make this count in so many ways.
And so he tore himself away from her lips, breathed butterfly kissed down her sternum, let his tongue caress her breasts, before going lower and lower. His remembered every movement he had made the last time to bring her to completion, the way he had touched her and licked her had seared itself into his memories, but he was sure that the could do more, could make her tremble and shake like a leaf in a storm and so he spread her wide and dragged his tongue over her core with wide strokes. Jill's breath hitched and a shudder went through her whole body, a shudder he could feel underneath the palm of his hand, wrapped around his hips.
What had he done to deserve, that this queen of snow and ice allowed him to love her and gave herself into his mercy without holding back. What had he done to deserve, that his queen loved him back as much as he loved her?
His lips closed around her nub and he softly sucked on it, sometimes flicking his tongue over it and Jill gasped, one hand digging into his dark hair, while the other clawed deep into the carpet fur they were lying on, the fire dipping both of them into a warm, golden glow. Smiling softly to himself, Clive hummed and then repeated the the movement and this time Jill moaned loudly, her back slightly arching off the floor.
"Too much, too fast. I need more of you before I come, please," she begged softly, her eyes hooded and shimmering with a desire that Clive had never seen before. She was tethering on a brink and wanted Clive to bring her over it.
For a moment, Clive had to hold himself back; had to tie himself down, that he wouldn't get up on his knees and simply bury himself inside her to the hilt. He would love nothing more than doing this, but not yet. They both were not ready for this. But he wanted Jill to feel him with her, wanted to fulfill her wish and he pushed a finger inside, gently, softly and she moaned, rocking into him, when he pulled back out.
"Please," she whispered, spreading her legs farther to allow him better access and with her encouragement, he carefully added a second finger. She was warm, and wet; so tight, that Clive could not even imagine, how she would feel around his length. But the time had not yet come. He wanted her to fall apart for him, he wanted to map out all the spots that made her crumble underneath his hands. Carefully he pumped his fingers in and out, watching her every movement, switching between his tongue and the fingers on the other hand to play with her bundle of nerves.
She was a trembling mess at this point, fingers nearly digging painfully into his scalp and for a second he sucked harder and turned his fingers upward and with a low moan her legs clamped down on him, while shocks began to shake her body. Her walls clenched hard around his fingers, pulsating with each wave, her arousal dripping into his palm, while he carried her through her peak with lazy thrusts of his hand and soft licks against her core.
When her legs fell bonelessly onto the carpet, her chest still heaving from her harsh breaths, he carefully withdrew his fingers and drew comforting circles with his other hand over her chest and down her ribs, before he laid down beside her to catch her lips in a long kiss. A kiss she returned all to eager, hands once again digging into his hair to pull him closer and closer.
"How do you feel?" His words were nothing but whispers between soft kisses and tender caresses. Clive had never felt that sort of peace in his entire life. Not even as a child, always on guard with his mother present and the nobles around her, but Clive didn't want to dwell on it - especially not in this moment and so he buried himself in the kiss, pulled Jill as close as he could until she was in his arms, one of her legs thrown over his hip and his half-hard length trapped between them, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to look into these grey eyes and make them his world and his universe, his reality to shut everything else out.
Jill chuckled softly. "My whole body is still tingling," she said. "I am feeling marvelous, my lord."
"Then I have reached my goal," he whispered and pressed another kiss to her lips.
"But I still want more," she replied and with a strength that Clive had not expected in her small frame, she wrapped her arms around him and rolled them back to the side, Clive's body blanketing her. "You know what I want, who I want. Do you feel the same?"
Clive didn't answer the same, but instead pressed his lips to hers in a hard, nearly bruising kiss. He felt the heat rush to his groin and his hips began to thrust on their own, his length jerking against her stomach. But there was also a moment of clarity. A moment of realization and he pushed himself up on one hand. "You tell me to stop when it hurts," he begged, fear making his voice shake. "I try to go as slow as I can, but stop me, when it gets too much. By the flame, throw an ice spell at me if you have to."
Jill frowned, before she pushed herself up as well, covering his branded cheek with her hand. "You could never hurt me and I would never, no matter what, use a spell of mine against you," she said. "Just keep going. It will be fine; we both will be." She wiped Clive's hesitation away with another long kiss and he moaned into it, allowing her to take the lead. He felt her small hand around his shaft, softly pumping him up and down. "Show me how to make you feel good."
Growling softly, he closed his larger hand around hers and showed her what long years of loneliness had taught him, but when he moved his hand away, the change was more than apparent and the shudders of pleasure were spreading through his body, her small and soft hand a difference like night and day to his own calloused one. It was a divine feeling.
"Lie back down," he growled and with another long kiss, she let herself fall back again, spreading her legs open for him. Her lips were still glistening from her own orgasm, and setting his length to them, Clive made a few soft thrusts through them, but never entering, teasing himself and teasing her with it. He loved the way her breath hitched and the way her eyes fell close. She had one hand buried in her hair, the other one roaming her own body.
Lining himself up and holding his length steady, he softly pushed the head inside, careful and slow, wrestling down that animalistic desire in him to just take her in one hard thrust and making her his. He bit his lip and moved forward and Jill met his movement with one of her own, enveloping him further and further and with one more stroke, Clive was seated in her to the end and nothing was between them anymore. She pulled him down to herself and kissed him, while his length was enveloped by her warmth, welcoming him home like a lost wanderer was embracing a spring of fresh water. He was shaking, suppressing the urge to move, since he just wanted to hold onto this feeling, this moment of love and belonging when time didn't matter and one moment began to stretch into eternity.
She was home.
She was all he had ever wanted and all he had ever dreamed of.
He held himself above her, trembling and shaking. His body screamed at him to move, to claim her, to love her, but he held still and just kissed her. He waited for her to show a sign of pain, to tell him to stop, but neither of it came. She was soft and pliant underneath him, held him in her arms and in herself, hands in his hair, on his back and everywhere she could reach. She moved her hips, and Clive took it as his cue to keep on going.
Without breaking the kiss, he began to withdraw, holding himself there for a moment, before he moved back in, her heat as welcoming as the first time, folding around him and this time, Clive couldn't hold back a shudder. He did not deserve this. He, who had drowned himself and others in blood, was allowed to love a piece of the heaven, a star that had been made manifest in the form of his goddess of ice. How did he deserve a sanctuary like her? A haven this perfect?
Another thrust and the heat was as searing as before, pulling him into its embrace and Clive wanted nowhere else to be. This was, where he belonged, in this moment and forever.
Breaking the kiss to gasp for air, Jill threw her head back and he took the chance, latching onto her pulse with his lips, dragging his tongue along her neck, his hips now moving on their own, faster and harder, seeking that delicious friction, that made his heart hammer in his chest. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, could Jill's soft moans whenever he slid back into her, the slapping sounds whenever their hips met and Clive felt himself teetering on the brink of breaking. He tried to prolong it, tried to cling to that feeling, he didn't want to lose it... He wanted to hold onto and never let go, never let her go.
"Jill, I..." His voice was nothing but a rasp.
"Let go," she whispered against his lips. "Just let go and I'll catch you."
He surged forward, and with a low guttural groan, he buried his pulsating and twitching length inside her as deep as he could, breath hitching against her lips, while his hands were tangled in her long silver hair. Whole body shuddering, he allowed the bliss to overwhelm him and wipe away every conscious thought that was not Jill. He spilled his seed deep within her with that last strong thrust, drowning the head of his length in a delicious heat and for a moment he wondered if Ifrit was to blame for it, or if it was simply the fact that the first time he had been allowed to enjoy it.
His eyes squeezed shut, he held onto Jill, erratic thrusts releasing the last of the tension in this body and he felt as if he could sleep for a month, sweat clinging to his back and his hair. He was basking in everything that was her and he never wanted to let go. But he knew it could not last forever, even if he wished it to. Taking a few more moments, he inhaled Jill's scent and with a long sigh, he pushed himself up.
Clive frowned, overloaded senses finally starting to come back as he felt Jill move underneath him, softly brushing through his sweat soaked hair, movements never faltering. The realization hit him like a sack of stones. "You didn't come," he whispered and a soft blush spread up her cheeks. She would have looked adorable, if Clive had not been so mortified.
"No, I didn't," she admitted hesitantly and Clive shoulders sagged, despite the fact that he still held his full weight up.
He kissed her tenderly, leaning his forehead against hers, a sigh slipping past his lips. "I'm sorry, my lady," he breathed, before he pushed himself up, sitting back on his haunches, softening length slipping out of her, a mix of his spend and her fluids dripping onto the carpet. That one would need a thorough washing by Clive's own hand.
But Jill didn't seem to care, sitting up with a frown herself now. "Why are you sorry?" she asked.
"I should have made sure, that you are ready too; should have taken better care of you and make sure you are close."
"Clive... are you really telling me right now, that you feel guilty, because you couldn't make me come?"
Clive felt his cheeks and his ears grow hot. Well, Jill never did shy away from the truth, when they were children and that character trait for sure hadn't changed. Not trusting his voice he nodded wordlessly. For a long moment, the crackling of the wood in the fire was all he heard.
Crawling over to him, Jill lifted herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing his forehead, the tip of his nose and his lips. "Clive, there is no reason for you to blame yourself, because I didn't climax," she said softly. "We are both virgins. I think it would have been a miracle, if we had managed that on the first try. Besides, you did give me a high before, remember? That is enough for me." Her hands were still soothingly brushing through his hair, slicking it back for a moment, unable to tame it entirely.
"But not for me," he growled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs and her rear, pulling her closer. "I want to feel you fall apart around me, I want to know how it feels to be really yours. I want to hear you whisper my name over and over, while I make love to you. You deserve no less."
"Clive, you don't have to..."
He shook his head. "But I want to," he whispered, the growl washing away by his desire to just please her, to be one with her again. There was still this burning desire to turn her on her knees and just claim her like an animal would - Clive was wondering for another moment if that was Ifrit breaking through - but he would hold back on that. There was a time and place for this, and right now, he wanted something else, he and Jill needed something else. Kissing her softly, he held her close with one hand, while bringing his other one around, his fingertips folding back the hood over her core, brushing over it with the ghost of a touch. She shuddered and her eyes fell shut, teeth digging into her lower lip.
She was beautiful... and obviously still in enough control of her senses to wrap one hand around his length, circling her slim fingers around him and starting to stroke him tenderly up and down, which was now a lot easier with him still covered in his spend and her arousal from before. He hissed at the touch, feeling the pressure build in his groin once again, but he forced himself to stay in the present, to keep his fingers moving, while his other hand dug into her rear, pushing her ever closer to his rapidly hardening length.
Letting himself fall back onto the carpet, he slowly pulled her forward, forcing her to let go of his girth, that was now slipping through her folds again. He didn't need to voice his intentions, for the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know now. She was the dominant now in more than one way and he would follow her every lead, no matter what she intended for them both of them.
With a smile she leaned down to him, kissing him hard and with a longing that Clive had never felt before and he returned the kiss, just long enough for her to know, that he was right there with her, no matter what she had planned. She moved back and forth a few more times, most likely to tease herself and him likewise, before he felt her hand around his shaft, bringing him upright and before Clive could react, she impaled herself on him with a sound that sounded like half a moan and a hiss, head thrown back and Clive had to keep himself from wrapping his hands around her hips to press her down harder, for he needed more of that tightness, of that heat that made him lightheaded to the point where only instincts remained.
He needed all of her and he wanted everything. But not this time. He would take what she would allow him and it would be enough. Pulling back his hand from her core, he allowed her to set the pace and how she wanted to move, gave himself to her mercy, with his hands just softly digging into her soft and warm flesh. And she took advantage of it, bouncing up and down his rapidly hardening length, her hand squeezing and circling her breasts, cupping herself, while her other hand rapidly circled her core, fingers working furiously on her bundle of nerves. Keeping himself as motionless as possible, Clive never turned away from her, forcefully breathing through his nose to keep himself at bay. He wanted nothing more than to thrust upward, bury himself deeper inside her, but he held back.
Taking a deep breath he forced himself to push back the wave of bliss that he could feel to tingle up his spine, and instead ran his hands up and down Jill's thighs, before he let his fingers slip up and down her folds, from where they were joined to where she still rubbed her clit and after another moment she pulled back her fingers and leaned back, exposing herself to him. She was still moving, his length slipping in and out of her addicting heat, but Clive began to circle her core with his fingers now in time with her bouncing and her voice turned from a deep even breathing to a whining mewling of his name.
"I need you," she whispered, her eyes blown wide and her pupils nearly swallowing her iris in the flickering light of the fire.
"How do you want me?" Clive breathed, his restraint still in place but he could feel it growing thinner and thinner with bounce of her down his length, with every wet sound of their union filing his ears.
"Harder, deeper," she moaned. "Make me yours."
"Then that's what you'll have," Clive groaned and putting his feet on the floor, he gave himself enough leverage to actively thrust upward and that he did, meeting her every move when she pushed down, the slapping sounds growing louder and he felt himself being spurned on by it, his control slipping and holding onto it with the last shred of consciousness, he pressed down on her core, rubbing it, stroking it...
Jill threw her head back and her whole body spasmed, her thighs clamping down on his hips, when she met his thrust and Clive could feel her pulsating around him, her walls gripping him in a throttle, his length enveloped from all sides with that burning, welcoming and addicting heat. She whined his name with closed eyes, sweat glittering on her on her ivory skin, and now Clive's restraint did break.
Pushing himself up, he brought his arms down and began to push and thrust into her from below with a reckless abandon, seeking the sensation of her orgasm for himself. The way she gripped him inside her; pulled him in, held him there. Jill whimpered, her body shaking and trembling and Clive wrapped his arms around her lower back and with an open mouthed kiss, he pushed into her one last time, spilling his seed into her in hot spurts, and Jill moaned into his mouth, body once again spasming, when she gripped his length in a second peak.
They both rode each other out for as long as they could, until Jill slumped bonelessly into Clive's arms and he pulled her down with him, until they were both sprawled out on the floor, breathing hard, and gasping for breath. Clive could feel the sweat running down his face and felt it on Jill's back underneath his hands. Her heart was hamming in time with his and she was still trembling and shaking.
Clive didn't know how long they were lying there, the fire still merrily crackling away next to them, while he ran his hands through her long silver hair, nuzzling her forehead. When she opened her eyes, Clive could only smile at her. "I love you," he whispered tenderly, before he caught her red and swollen lips in another long kiss.
She smiled into it, her fingers now in his own hair, scratching along his scalp lovingly. "I love you too," she murmured. "My treasure."
Notes:
Yepp, after 12 chapters and at least three cockblocks the two of them finally were allowed to do it. I'm evil, I know.
Chapter 14: Pride
Chapter Text
The sun was drawing soft shadows and patterns on the floor and the carpets, when Clive opened his eyes, his internal clock completely scrambled by the events of the previous night. They both had been spent after their love making but had well known that going to bed in this state was not to be advised, if they wanted to live the next day without giving each other away, and so they had waited until the guests had cleared the castle - burning away the time with lazy kissing and exploring - before sneaking the whole way into Jill's chambers, where a bathtub had been waiting for her the whole evening to relax after her social obligations. They wouldn't need the crystal to heat the water up, since Clive did that easily with holding his hand into it for a few minutes.
Clive had stayed with Jill for a few more hours after their bath, sharing her bed, before returning to his own quarters to catch at least a few more hours of sleep. There was no denying that his father and brother would know exactly what had transpired, but they didn't want to give the castle more fodder than needed. Even if it was already too late for that.
Starring at the ceiling for another moment, Clive shook his head. He had to get up and wash that carpet, since in no way the chamber maids wouldn't see the glittering stains on it and he couldn't pretend to have had a nosebleed, since blood would have left way more obvious spots than his seed had. Rolling his shoulders, he grabbed his braies, pants and boots and slipped into them, before grabbing the treacherous rug and washing them out with the water the chambermaids usually left in a pitcher the evening before.
Letting it dry on the edge of the bathtub, he grabbed the remaining parts of his clothes and then left the room to look for his father. They didn't have enough time to inform him about everything that had happened in the Apodytery and Clive could imagine, that his display of the foreign powers that had been forced on him, had not only irritated and shocked the nobles but his father as well.
Despite the early morning servants and staff were already on their feet to clear away the remains of the feast from the day before, carrying tables, plates, empty bottles and some were hurrying back and forth with brooms, since more than just a few of the corners showed clear signs of broken glass and porcelain. One more reason why Elwin had always despised these celebrations in the castle. The loss in cutlery was not to ignore and he had mentioned that to Clive more than once, when Clive had still been a boy… a true marquess.
Nodding towards the dutifully bowing servants, Clive made his way through the hallways until he had reached his father’s study. Without hesitation he knocked on the door, hoping that he didn’t have to hunt the Archduke down somewhere in the bailey or anywhere else. If Clive had learned one thing, then it was the fact that the castle could be stupidly huge when one was looking for another, but it was stupidly small, when trying to hide.
“Come in!” The voice of the Archduke was muffled behind the thick wooden door, but still clear enough and Clive pressed down the handle, stepping into the wide office, the morning sun bathing everything into a soft golden light. Less impressive than the sunset, but still a sight that an artist could immortalize on a canvas. The Archduke was sitting behind his desk, dressing immaculately in his red robes, the gloves somewhere on his desk, so he could pick up a quill whenever necessary. Joshua… Joshua looked like something the cat dragged in the night before. The Phoenix’s robes were haphazardly thrown over the back of the chair he was sitting in, one glove on the the pile, the other one on the floor, hair sticking in all directions, the bags underneath his eyes were dark and purple, while he himself was white as the sheet on the Archduke’s desk.
“By the flames, Joshua,” Clive gasped and with two quick steps he was next to his brother’s side, hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles over it. “Are you alright?”
Elwin chuckled. “He’s fine, just a bit hungover,” he replied with a toothy grin, that had to border on the verge to painful. “I told him that some of our grapes make a far more potent wine, than what he is used to, but after your little display, he didn’t want to listen. Neither did the nobles for that matter, shocked as the were. The shields had to carry more than a few out of the hall to their servants in the barracks, that they would get them home in one piece.” The smile fell from Elwin’s face and picking up the glove from the floor, Clive straightened his back and rose to his full height. “What was that, Clive?”
Sighing, Clive pulled free the second chair in his father’s office and let himself fall into the upholstery with a shake of his head. Without giving Joshua or Elwin the possibility to breathe, he began his tale from the Apodytery, not leaving anything out, hoping against hope, that maybe his father had an inkling on what was going on with him, but his rational mind knew that the Archduke would know nothing either, since he was an anomaly in so many ways… and it scared him.
He had taken Bahamut, had soaked up these powers like a sponge did water… what did stop him from doing the same to Joshua or to Jill? And what was the long term effect of it? Did taking an Eikon spell an early death for the robbed Dominant? They had too many questions and way too little answers and by the looks of it, did the pile of questions only grow.
After he had ended his tale, Clive rubbed his hands over his face - exhausted and tired and a part of him wanted nothing more, but to leave the office and return to Jill’s chambers, getting rid of all that he wore and snuggle up to her underneath the heavy blankets of her bed. Feel her skin underneath his fingertips and her lips against his own. Her tight and wet heat around his shaft and Clive shook his head to stop the river of thought right there. There was a time and place for musings and day-dreaming and this was definitely not it, especially not in the present company.
For a moment, there was only silence in the office, the sounds of shields training in the bailey only a distant reminder that there was a world outside of the room, while the three men all chased their own thoughts. "Well," Elwin said, when the silence started to become uncomfortable. "You definitely know how to spice up our lives, Clive." A smile began to spread over his face. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Send word to our people in Twinside and Oriflamme to add this four armed creature to the search as well." Folding his hands, Elwin leaned forward. "Until we have a reply from them, I will have something else for you to do. Rodney sent a stolas. The imperials have pulled back from our borders entirely, so we will only keep the usual guard there now and he will return with the remaining forces. Clive, you and Jill will escort Lady Hanna back to Eastpool. Rodney has earned himself a few weeks of reprieve after this and Hanna wants to prepare the house. On the way back you will ride over Port Isolde and visit your uncle, before he flays me alive from keeping me away. And there are some messages too, that need to be delivered."
"What about Joshua and my duty as First Shield?"
"Wade and Tyler are still in Rosalith and will pitch in," Joshua remarked, and he looked a lot more aware of his situation now than he had been before, even though he was still pale and a shimmer of green was accentuating his nose. "And it's easier to redirect the focus away from you, when you aren't here."
Clive shook his hand, running his fingers through his hair. "No matter what I do, it seems I simply can't do the one thing I had sworn my life upon. To protect you and to be your First Shields. I'm more often separated from you, than I am there to do what I'm destined to do."
Now it was Joshua, who vehemently shook his head. "You have never been destined to be my shield," he growled, and Clive looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "The only thing you were ever destined to be, was my brother." Joshua huffed. "I won't deny, that I prefer you as my shield, because there is a difference in feeling safe, when you are around. But you are more than just the First Shield, and I want you to live your life and not just waste it away because you make your duty your life. You need to be away from me to redefine who you are and to learn again what is important aside from me; who is important."
Clive frowned. Joshua had not been subtle with this remark at all and when he saw his father's raised eyebrow, he knew that he had caught on it just as well.
"We both want you and Jill to be happy," Elwin finally said. "And for that to happen, you both need time. Yes, there will be days, when the duty to the duchy will be overwhelming and when we both - your brother and I - will need you and Jill here, but right now is not the day. Right now, we have peace. An uneasy peace but one nonetheless."
"But didn't I have enough time away from my duty since my return?" Clive asked. "I feel as if I'm shirking my tasks to others."
Joshua shook his head and leaned forward in his chair, taking Clive's hands between his own, and for a moment Clive was surprised, that Joshua was a lot warmer than him. They both were Dominants of Fire, but he was supposed to be the inferno. "Listen Clive, others would not have been able to walk after leaving thirteen years of slavery behind. They would have needed months to even get back on their own feet and heal. You were back on the frontlines with us after four, ready to fight and fighting you did. You are not shirking your duties."
With a rustle of his heavy coat, Elwin rose from his chair and walked around the desk, placing his hand on Clive's shoulder with a soft squeeze. "You are the First Shield, yes, but the First Shield has never been your sole duty in life, son," he said softly, before he leaned back against the heavy wood. "You have always been the Lord Marquess as well and diplomatic tasks like this, would have been your duty too, if your mother hadn't torn you away from us. So consider this your duty as the Lord Marquess and as the First Shield."
Sighing, Clive shook his head. "You really want me to go, do you?" he asked.
"We do," Elwin replied with a nod. "You still need the time to rest, Clive. What you endured can't be wiped away in a matter of weeks and months. Not years of torture and the taste of the leash. Give yourself time to heal. Your body might be there already, but not your soul and you know this, because your soul is inextricably bound to Jill."
Looking back and forth between his father and his brother, Clive knew that there was no getting out of this for him. They would be adamant, that he would do as they had asked him to, and he had not even the slightest idea how to make them change their minds. How to make them see how afraid he was to leave Joshua out of his sight. But on the other hand, he had to always remind himself, that his brother had grown up in his absence. That while he was to protect him out of Rosalith, that inside the walls of their beloved city, the Phoenix was safe and protected by the shields and the garrison on site. It was his own guilt that refused to let him go and move past the events that had transpired all these years ago. The guilt about the fact that he had failed his brother so painfully at Phoenix Gate. But Joshua and his father had forgiven him, so why couldn't he forgive himself?
Clive pushed the thought away. He didn't want to think about it, since he didn't have the strength to stand up against his own merciless scrutinizing right now. "Very well. Does Lady Hanna already know and when are we supposed to head out?"
"Tomorrow morning," Elwin replied. "Hanna has already been informed, but with Jill still asleep, we thought to give you both enough time for preparations."
Now Clive simply couldn't help but wonder. "Do I even want to know, how many people know, what Jill and I did last night?" he asked exasperated, and Elwin laughed, eyes shining brightly with amusement.
"Joshua and I only know, because I dragged your brother's sorry ass..."
"Father!”
"... up stairs in the moment you and Jill switched form your quarters to hers," Elwin explained. "And considering Jill wore only part of her dress, it didn't need much fantasy to know what had transpired. Aside from the fact that her hair was just as ruined as yours. But we are the only ones who know and we will keep it that way. Is Jill still taking the herbs?"
Clive nodded dumbfounded.
"Then there is nothing more I have to say to the matter," Elwin replied. "I'm happy for both of you, I truly am. You both deserve these good times after what life has been for you so far. Jill might not have had to suffer through your torment, but we all did feel the pain from your absence in one was or another as well." Pulling Clive from his chair, Elwin enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug and Clive couldn't do nothing else but return the gesture, his own arms around his father's chest, fingertips digging into the heavy fabric of his coat. "Never doubt that we missed you fiercely the years you couldn't be here."
For the first time, Clive allowed himself to smile on that day and it was a wide and honest one, one that normally pulled painfully on his left cheek to remind him of his place in the world, but today the agony was blissfully silent and he could allow himself to hope and remember who he was for real.
Letting go of him, Elwin held Clive at an arm's length for a moment, before he nodded. "There is something else. I did send a few messages back and forth to Rodney before this one actually and before you returned from the frontlines and we both agreed that it's time for you to receive a weapon to show off your status, not just as the Lord Marquess, but also as the future Lord Commander."
Taken aback, Clive stared at his father for a moment. Yes, they had talked vaguely about it, but Clive had still considered this to be a concept for the far future and not this close. "Isn't that a decision that should be made with more thought?" he asked. "There are shields in our ranks way more suited to this specific tasks, with way more experience..."
"Clive, none of these shields have the experience you have," Elwin remarked. "Our shields have been soldiers in a time of an uneasy peace. Training and being vigilant but nothing more than it. You on the other hand..."
"... you were forced to fight on the Waloeder frontlines," Joshua picked up, where his father had left of, arms crossed behind his straightened back and for the moment, he looked every inch the Archduke that he would become one day.. "Yes, you didn't fight in service of the duchy, but you did serve. You were a soldier and you were much more of one, than a lot of the shields we have now. Of course we still have a lot in our ranks, who served in the war against the Northern Territories, but even there are only a handful which we consider worthy of being Lord Murdoch's successor, once he retires."
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Clive now stood straight as well, matching his father's and brother's height with ease. "There is one candidate I would suggest above myself at any time," he said, but Elwin already shook his head.
"Tyler already declined twice, even before your return," he explained. "He said, that there would be one better suited for the task down the line and we would have to be patient. I don't know if he felt it or if it was just one way of gracefully letting us down at that time, but he reinforced the statement when we approached him again, after your return. You told us in no certain terms, that he would only take on the post if something happened to you, but insisted that no matter the last years, you were the right man for the position as Lord Commander for it is a position of undeniable trust to your liege lord. A trust you already have, as his First Shield and as my son."
A sarcastic laugh slipped past Clive's lips, for a moment catching in his throat and becoming hoarse and painful. "The things I have done in the name of the Empire are not worthy of a Lord Commander. They aren't worthy a First Shield either, but it's not as if I would know of a way to give you back the Blessing," Clive said, nodding to Joshua.
"Clive, we all have done things we are not proud of, but this is war," Elwin replied, hands wrapped around the edge of the desk, knuckles turned white and Clive saw a flash of pain on his face, gone a moment later again. "And you had little choice in the matter either, thanks to your whore of a mother. But the fact, that what you did weighs so heavily on you is proof for me, that you are worthy of both positions. The Shield and the Lord Commander, because you are. You care more for others than anyone else, yourself included unfortunately and that makes you perfect for it, because you don't send men to slaughter because you are drunk on the power of a general. You would go yourself if you could, before sending even one shield."
"You are a good man, brother," Joshua agreed softly.
Shaking his head, Clive turned to the windows, trying to gather his thoughts. "I can't make you reconsider this?" he asked, knowing the answer already deep down.
"There is no need for that, and besides - it's not as if you have to take on the position right this second," this father chuckled. "Rodney has a few good years in him still. You have time to learn and to grow, but I still want to solidify what you will become. It will also serve to protect you. At least I hope it will, especially after yesterdays antics. These nobles are unbearable." Pushing himself off the desk, Elwin went around it and then placed a coffer on the wooden surface - the same coffer that Lady Hanna had insisted on going with them to Rosalith and for the first time, Clive realized what it was.
Flipping the latches open, Elwin opened the lid, the intricate engravings in the wood that had been filled with silver and spent shards of crystal catching the light, breaking it and throwing it in all the colors of the rainbow against the walls. Clive should have know that something was up, the moment the coffer had been given to him, but by that time it had been wrapped in a black cloth, hiding away the fact that the shards imbedded in the wood were creating the crest of the duchy - the Phoenix.
And then his father lifted a sword from the velvet inlay, steel glittering silver in the light of the day, while jewels of fire were breaking it into the color of blood. The lower section of the blade was a work of art in itself, with engravings in the crossguard. But it was clear that the sword was not only meant to look impressive, for Clive could see in the size of it, that it was made for heavy damage and it was definitely made to be used. But he had never seen Lord Murdoch wielding a sword of this size and definitely not this one.
"This is Invictus," Elwin explained, nodding to Clive to take the sword from his hands and he could feel the weight, when his father let go of it. He was able to hold it with one hand still, but he knew that he was an exception when it came to that. "One of a set of seven swords said to have been forged in the flames of Mount Drustanus. Invictus has been passed down through generations for use by the Archduke’s family and his closest Shields. I presented Invictus to Rodney on the day he was promoted to Lord Commander of the ducal army and it was Rodney, who insisted, that you should have it. He said that it was too heavy for him anyways, and it's a blade that is made for being wielded and not rotting away in a coffer or on a stand. Invictus is a sign for the duchy and you are part of that. Let this sword be your anchor and proof of our trust in you, even if you don't trust yourself."
Chapter 15: Bloodlines
Chapter Text
The ride back to Eastpool had been a short one, since Clive and Jill chose the most direct route for all of their sakes, since Lady Hanna was not really used to making camp in the wilderness with nothing but a bedroll and a fire, so they forced a certain speed to keep their to only two days with one overnight stay in an old barn that seemed to have been abandoned years ago already. The wood was dark from the elements, but still sturdy and it would keep the light and the warmth of the fire close to them, and predators of the animal and human side out.
Lady Hanna insisted that they would stay the night, when they reached Eastpool the next afternoon and without a good reason to decline her, Clive and Jill gave in, before heading out to Port Isolde the morning after breakfast right away.
Clive had to admit grudgingly to himself, that he would need to thank his brother and his father for their intervention and the chance for this escort, since he there was nothing in this world that he wanted to do more, than spending time with Jill. Not even making love to her, but simply the fact to be close to each other, to be able to laugh with one another without the prying eyes of the nobility among them, just waiting for either of them to make a mistake, so they could blow it up into a scandal to put pressure on the Archduke.
Sometimes Clive wondered if these nobles would still behave that way, had his brother already ascended to the throne. If they had to be afraid to face the firebird's wrath not only in words and some deeds, but especially in his unforgiving flames. But Joshua was still not ready to make that step and neither Clive nor their father would force him to. Unlike Elwin, who once said, that he was only warming the seat until Joshua came of age, Joshua didn't have that option. Once he took the throne, he would hold it until his dying day, for he was the Dominant of the Phoenix.
Clive didn't want to think further one it, when he saw the walls of Port Isolde rise above the hills ahead of them, and just like he had done with Rosalith, he stopped Ambrosia for a moment to just take in the view and to remember himself once again, that this was not a dream but his reality now. That he was home. And Jill? His beautiful and patient Jill just reached out to him and threaded her fingers through his, holding him tightly, anchoring him to the moment before a dark thought could creep upon him and wipe away the happiness he felt right now. The happiness that she was by his side and was at his side out of her own free will and not because she had been arranged for him.
"When was the last time you saw Uncle Byron?" Clive asked, before he nudged Ambrosia forward again, reluctantly letting go of Jill and the comforting warmth of her hand.
She smiled softly. "Not so long ago," she replied. "Maybe a month before the empire began their siege? Your uncle and your father wanted me to be present at some sort of trading negotiations to fortify certain aspects simply with the presence of a member of the ducal household, since your uncle's reputation as a clever merchant and business man is far more known and respected, as those of the Archduke's younger brother."
"Especially younger brother," Clive remarked with emphasis, and Jill nodded, before her face fell for a moment.
"Lord Byron really missed you, you know," she said after a while. "Whenever I would be with him for a visit or some sort of festivity, we would end up talking about you and how much you loved the plays you would go to together. How much he wished to just be able to act out *The Saint and the Sectary* with you again, even if it meant playing Madu."
Taking a deep breath, Clive closed his eyes, the memories too vivid to ignore. He could still remember the lines of the play as if he had learned them just yesterday. The voice of his uncle and his grand gestures as the evil sorcerer, before revealing the biggest twist in the plot to their non-existent audience and Clive's unknowing Sir Crandall. It had been a different life.
"Come on," Jill whispered softly. "Let's not keep your uncle waiting."
They reached the gates of the town soon after and Clive could see the face of the shield at the gates turn pale the moment he recognized him and Jill. The news of Clive's survival had made it Port Isolde of course, but seeing and believing were different things, and most simply didn't recognize Clive, because of the brand. Many simply disregarded a face, because the brand made the bearer of it a being that was worth less than the dirt on the road. They only looked at Clive twice because of the company he was in and the clothes he wore.
"My... my Lady Warrick," the shield stuttered, looking nervously to his companion at the gate, who looked as pale as he. "We did not expect you to arrive unannounced..."
Clive looked at Jill out of the corner of his eye and saw her grind her teeth, fingers wrapping around the reigns of the chocobo until the leather creaked underneath her grip. Even if Clive didn't agree to it, Jill would make an example of these soldiers, because she had to; because the garrison in Port Isolde needed the reminder that Clive was not his Brand. Drawing in her breath, she turned to the shield, her voice as cold as the ice of her Eikon. "And does our unannounced arrival excuse your obvious disrespect towards the Archduke's first born son? Towards your superior officer?"
The shield straightened it's back and Clive could feel the fear radiating off him in waves. "No... no, of course not my Lady Warrick," he replied hastily, before he turned to Clive, saluting and bowing deeply. "Forgive me, my Lord Marquess. I had not meant to disregard your presence and your standing."
Clive nodded, accepting the apology and Jill did the same, before she nudged her chocobo forward, passing the gates.
"It hurts to see them treat you like this, you know," Jill whispered after a while, chocobos now trotting over the main road that lead to the center of the town, merchants with their carts all around them, since Port Isolde was after all one of Rosaria's biggest trading towns directly at the coast. "They see your brand and don't care anymore, who you are - and I'm not talking about your status and your position as Lord Marquess, but the fact that you are human just like everyone else. That you are just as human as I am. And it’s not just the nobles but the common folk too."
Sighing Clive shook his head. "For them to treat me normal again, we either need to change the world or I have to get rid of my thrice damned brand," he said softly. "And I see neither of it happening in my lifetime. And even if I could remove the brand, it would only change my situation, but what about the other Bearers, who don’t have that chance?"
A smile pulled at Jill's lips for a moment, nudging her chocobo to the left and onto the street that would lead them to parts of the town that housed the mansions of the nobles. Clive would have found it's way there with his eyes closed. "With a reformer like your father, the changing of the world might not be so far away," she said softly. "But unfortunately not everyone agrees with his views, and is willing give up their own comfort for the good of others."
A hoarse laugh escaped Clive's throat and the few people who saw them turned to him, indignation plain to see on their faces that a Branded would show this kind of behavior in public instead of cowering in front of his master. "Trust me, I know how many in Sanbreque would agree with it and that is no one I ever had the pleasure to cross paths with," he replied darkly, the brand on his cheek burning and itching, like it had been in the first days after receiving it and he had to keep himself from running his gloved fingers over it. It was a nervous habit he tried to shake off.
Jill's own gloved fingers brushed over his shoulder for a moment, when she brought her chocobo closer to him, before letting them travel down his arm, threading them through Clive's own to hold on for a moment in a nearly painful grip. "We will find the way to free you from these shackles that your mother put you in, I promise." Her tone was now low and dangerous, a ferocity in the words like a fire traveling along a fuse. "And should I ever get my hands on your mother, she will be in for something as well."
But at this point, Clive shook his head. "Don't sully your hands on her," he replied. "Your soul is not worth it. I'm sure she will have to pay the price for what she has done at one point or another. But that is something we can think about later."
With the mansion of his uncle in sight, Clive took a deep breath, trying to settle the unease, that had begun to bloom again. He knew that there was nothing to fear and that his uncle would be elated to see him again, but he couldn't believe it down in his heart until it really happened. The guards at the gates nodded and saluted without another word, while a runner already made his way to the house, informing Lord Byron's head of staff. When they had reached the courtyard and slipped out of the saddles, a stableboy was already waiting to take their chocobos. Ambrosia was unwilling to move for another moment, but Clive ran his hands through her soft plume and with a whisper he sent her off with the boy.
They were about to take the steps up the mansion, when they heard a commotion inside and Clive could her Jill giggle, the smile on her face wide and open, full of happiness and mirth, and Clive couldn't help but feeling a certain dread at it. His uncle was a man who had his heart on his sleeve and if he hadn't absolutely turned over his personality...
The doors flew open and just like his father, his uncle had barely changed aside from his hair and beard lightening from black to grey. Despite being younger than Elwin, his uncle had a lot more of that in his hair, but it didn't seem to stop his large stride down the steps... and before Clive could think further on it, he was enveloped in a hug that shifted the bones underneath his skin. His own arms came around his uncle's frame, just holding onto him, softening the silent sobs he could hear, when Byron repeated his name over and over.
"Clive, my dear boy, it's really you."
Carefully extricating himself from his uncle's arms, without letting go of them entirely, Clive nodded. "It is, and I'm sorry that I didn't come to see you sooner, Uncle Byron."
Yet Byron just smiled widely, tears glistening in his eyes; eyes that Clive now realized were so similar to those of his father. "From what I could glean from my dear brother, you were quite busy these few weeks and so was I. The most important thing is, that you are here now and that you are back with us." Letting go of Clive, Byron turned around towards the entrance of the mansion. "Rutherford! Inform the kitchens! There'll be guests! We dine immediately."
"Wait, uncle..." Clive started but Byron had none of it. Slapping him hard on the back, that the air was driven out of Clive's lungs for a moment and he had to catch his step, his smile widened even further.
"You can't very well regale me with the tale of your life on an empty stomach. Come on!" But in that moment, Byron turned around and shook his head. "Where are my manners?" he chuckled, before swooping in and pulling Jill into his arms, holding onto her just as tightly as he had to Clive only mere moments ago. "It's good to see you, Jill. You're getting more and more beautiful whenever I see you."
"You flatter me, Lord Byron," Jill chuckled, when Byron suddenly turned in direction of the manor.
"Oh, and see that you use the good plates, Rutherford!" he hollered in a booming voice and Clive could only shake his head, a laugh of his own escaping his lips. He had missed this. The lightness of being with his uncle, where it had never mattered that he wasn't the Phoenix or the Archduke's firstborn failure; where he could just be a nephew and where it also didn't matter, that someone had marked him a slave for everyone to see.
He felt Jill thread her fingers through his, squeezing them for a moment in a silent reassurance that she was still here and was still with him, by his side. It was a fleeting contact, but it was enough to ground him in the moment and the present. They followed Byron up the stairs to the mansion and for Clive it was, as if he stepped into a life he had once left behind so long ago. The entrance hall had not changed, when he looked around, allowing another servant to take the Invictus - Byron nodding at the blade with appreciation burning in his eyes - and those parts of his armor that would really hinder him at eating.
While Jill handed her rapier to the servant, Clive turned around for a moment. There were still the same artworks on the wall of chocobos running over the green plains of Rosaria, the deserts of Dhalmekia littered with it's Fallen ruins, and wild animals hiding away in the lush forests of the empire - a time before the Blight became an ever present reason for worry, and plains and forests withered and turned black.
Clive pushed the thought away and followed his uncle and Jill through the hallway to the sitting hall. The walls here were decorated with portraits that Clive recognized from Rosalith castle. But while the lineup in Rosalith Castle was one of the past Dominants of the Phoenix, this one was not reduced to this. Clive recognized his grandfather from the artwork, since it was an eerie similar piece to the one in Rosalith. Clive had never met his grandfather since he had passed away unexpectedly before he had been born - although it hadn't been as sudden as the grand populace believed. The curse had long taken hold of his body, the constant primes in the war against the Northern Territories demanding a sacrifice.
Clive knew that his father had been asked soon after to choose a wife to continue the Rosfield-line and had been presented with his cousin, so the Phoenix would be reborn into the ducal household as it was tradition. His parents' marriage had never been one of love, but convenience and Clive had become well aware of that, when he had not awakened as the Phoenix and the rift between his parents had become only too obvious in the way they treated him. His mother and the nobles despised him, while his father, the normal people and the shields loved him. But Clive had never seen it as such, too much had he concentrated on protecting Jill and sometimes even Joshua from his mother's ire.
Had there been signs he should have seen? Signs that their mother was planning to betray them? But if his father and the Lord Commander hadn't noticed, for sure he couldn't have either, right? Clive shook his head and Jill stopped her steps ahead of him, when she noticed, he had come to a halt, staring at a portrait of his younger self - the boy that had died at Phoenix Gate, had perished in the flames of the Eikon he didn't know he carried. All his hopes and dreams torn asunder in one single night.
"Clive?" Jill asked softly.
He shook himself free from his memories. "I'm alright," he promised and caught up with her. "Just wondering about past chances and paths not taken."
"Because you weren't allowed to take them," Jill reminded him and it was frightening, how well she could read him. "Now your choices are your own."
A soft smile played around his lips and he followed Jill and his uncle into the sitting room until the dining hall was being prepared, which most likely would still take a while. Clive still remembered the spreads his uncle used to bring to the table and he was sure, that this was something that wouldn't have changed at all. Just like this space looked exactly the same as it had been all these years ago. The huge windows letting the light stream into the room, the heavy curtains pulled to the side, to allow a view over some parts of the manor and over the wall, that separated it from the city, but also the other houses. The areas of the nobles in Port Isolde was not nearly as closed in itself, as that of those who lived in the Lazarus, but it was still a painfully obvious how deep the rift between the classes was even here.
Clive pushed the thought to the side, while he let his eyes wander. The two stuffed coeurls were still towering over the whole room, flanking the cleared out fireplace and once again, he realized that nothing had changed. It was as if he stepped into his life as a teenager and it was a painful reminder, that he was no longer that young man and that Wyvern was still somewhere lurking deep inside, ready to spring free.
But there was no use in trying to muse about this now. Clive turned around to his uncle, after his manservant had closed the door behind them and pulled the two letters from his satchel. They were sealed with the crest of the duchy, the Phoenix pressed into the blood red wax. "Father said, that they are status reports and updates for you," Clive explained, when his uncle took the letters with a raised brow.
"Status updates from your father on paper?" he asked. "Normally he'd just send a stolas."
Looking at Jill, while Byron read the first letter, he could see the blush creeping into her cheeks, the same way he could feel it heating up his ears underneath his dark mob. Byron read the first letter, before putting it aside, then opened the second one, but when he was done he looked at Clive and Jill, then back and forth between the two of them.
"The first one was really a status update on the search for traitors in our midst," he explained, before he handed the letter to Clive, that he could read it himself. "I do admit though, that the second one is a lot more interesting, since my brother requests to give you the top-floor guest room with the connection doors, despite the fact that we have more luxurious rooms prepared. Rooms that have separate bathrooms..." His eyes went back to Clive and Jill, before he simply folded the letter with a wide smile and sparkling eyes. "But who am I to deny my liege lord his request."
And before they could protest, he turned around on his heel and stuck his head out of the door. "Rutherford! Change of plans! Tell Sarah to prepare the top bedrooms and the bathroom for them!" He closed the door a moment later, then crossed the room again and Clive found himself in another suffocating hug and before Jill could react, she was pulled in as well, crushed against Byron's large chest. And for the moment, Clive had to admit to himself that he was nothing but glad, that he had found the strength to finally run - run towards home and towards the boundless love of his family.
They had spend their first day in Byron's back garden by the pond, a blanket spread on the ground and each of them either reading or napping in each others arms. The kitchen had fulfilled their every dreams, even though both had tried to reason with the staff and with Byron, that they really didn't have to go through that much trouble for them. As expected, their pleas had fallen on deaf ears, most likely because Byron had told his the maids and servants, that their guests were too humble on their own and needed to be pampered and that in a way, that was even more than the last time Clive had been at the mansion shortly after he had received the Blessing of the Phoenix.
It was the morning sun that fell in through the windows, that woke Clive, but soon he felt Jill's fingers drawing circles over his bare chest, her leg slotting between his and pressed against his half-hard length. He had just enough time to crack one eye open and catch one of her hands to kiss her fingertips, when she slipped over him and sat up in his lap, the sheets of the bed pooling behind her, no longer hiding her soft breasts, her ivory skin and her silver hair.
Clive let go of her hand, after he had given every finger the attention it deserved, before he trailed his hands up and down her sides, cupping her breasts, until a soft sigh slipped over Jill's parted lips and he sat up underneath her, catching her in a long kiss, his hands now wrapped around her hips to press her down against his hardening length.
"Clive," she whispered in a breathy moan. "Not now. I'm to... I won't be able to stay silent... the servants will know."
Sighing softly, Clive ceased his ministrations, well knowing that the walls of the manor were thick, but not thick enough, once he really had Jill riled up. The night before, they had been careful. Screams swallowed by kisses, the sheets as a bedding on the floor so the bed would not rock against the wall, when Clive began to drive into her. They had considered letting Jill ride him, but the mattress had started squeaking the moment they had first sat down on the bed.
Letting his hands wander up again, Clive cupped Jill's face between his palms, before he breathed another kiss to her lips. "Maybe I have an idea for our dilemma, but we might need Uncle Byron's help for that."
Raising an inquisitive eyebrow she asked without a word, but then slipped off him. "Then let's get going," she remarked and reached out to her underwear, before throwing Clive's his way.
They both were dressed in a matter of minutes, down the stairs and out of the door. Leaving a message with Rutherford, they readied the chocobos and made their way through the streets that were already filled with people, preparing for the day. The baker and the butcher carrying their wares to the market, while other stalls were already offering whatever they were selling to whoever was crossing their path. Clive had pulled his hood up the moment they had left the gates of the mansion, well aware of the looks he had gotten when they had arrived.
It wasn't after they had left the gates, that Clive allowed the hood to fall back again, when he brought the chocobos onto a straight line towards the bay that was right next to the walls of the Lazarus. The nobles of the Lazarus always claimed the beach there for themselves, believed they had the right on it, while the roads and the shores were part of the duchy. The only thing that was off limits to everyone but the ducal family since decades was the small island in the bay. It was barely visible once the fog pulled in from the sea and so the ducal degree was only one reason no one dared to set foot on it. The other reason was that the little piece of land was supposed to be haunted.
Leaving the chocobo on the shore in a small stable that belonged to the ducal family as well and trusting in Ambrosia and her very uncooperative nature with anyone else but Clive to keep herself and her flock save, Clive, Jill and Torgal made their way to a small and old mooring, with a tiny boat softly moving in the rhythm of the lapping waves. Looking around for a moment, Jill frowned. "Where are we going?" she asked, but Clive just chuckled and motioned to the skiff.
"Just a tiny sea voyage to a different shore, if my lady is up for it," he answered, the amusement in his voice like honey and the mischievous sparkling in his eyes like the light of the moon in the blackest night.
"Lead the way then, my Lord Marquess," Jill replied with a curtsy, before she began to laugh in earnest and simply followed Clive and Torgal into the small boat, untying the rope, so he could bring them, to wherever he wanted them to be. It was soon after they had left the mooring behind, that the fog was swallowing them whole, but Clive kept rowing until a darkened shape began to break through the wall of white and the bottom of the skiff was hitting the ground.
Torgal was out of the boat in a second, shaking himself before racing ahead into the thickly grown bushes. Reaching out, Clive helped Jill out of the dinghy, allowing her to regain her footing. She was looking around herself, eye wandering over the bark of the large trees and the gnarled branches of the shrubs, that lined an overgrown path, leading deeper into the small wood ahead. And all the while, there was nothing but silence and not even the hooting of an owl, or the singing of other birds could be heard. Turning back around, Jill threaded her fingers through Clive's. "Where are we?" she asked softly.
Clive smiled, then tugged at her hand and without resistance, she followed him deeper inland. "This is the island of Mist," Clive finally replied. "I think you mostly know it as the ghost's island, said to be a sanctuary to the spirit of those lost at sea and not yet ready to move on. Legends say, that this is the reason that no bird has ever nested here and no other animals ever made their way to this island."
"But?" Jill asked, a knowing smile playing around her lips.
Chuckling, Clive pulled her along, her hand warm against the leather of his armored glove. "People simply didn't stay long enough to realize that there are birds high up in the trees that sing and that smaller animals made their colonies here, undisturbed by the predators of the mainland."
"And you know this how?"
"Because this island was my sanctuary from those predators that I could never escape, because I had to return to them," Clive answered and in front of them, the overgrown path opened into a similarly overgrown, yet still well lit clearing, where a rudimentary shack of wooden planks had been erected a few feet above the ground, only reachable through a well worn ladder. Ivy had grown over the walls and the planks that served as a roof, and if one didn't know that this little wooden structure did exist on this piece of land, it would get lost in the woods entirely. "This is the Rookery, because for me it was a perch to see myself and remember."
Allowing Jill to climb the ladder first, Clive followed her up, to where she waited on the porch. Despite the age the wood was still sturdy, and the ivy had closed the holes in the roof, where storms had ripped out single planks. "This was our hideaway," Clive said softy, his fingers brushing through Torgal's thick fur. When Jill nodded without a word, he took the last step inside the house and the flood of memories he had felt, when he had walked into his uncle's mansion was crashing on his shore again, for nothing in the small room had changed from the last time he had been here. The barrel at the door that held spare candles for the night was still there, just like the tiny rocking horse that Clive had brought with him, for when he had his little brother along. It had happened seldomly but sometimes. He could still feel the wood of the walls digging into his back, when he had come here, mind in shreds, hurting and wondering what was wrong with him.
"Clive?" Jill asked softly, her hand on his back, soft and reassuring. She didn't ask but gave him the time he needed. She had always been able to feel his turmoil, had tried to comfort him and support him, even though the duchess and her ladies-in-waiting had done everything to minimize the contact between Jill and the brothers and between Clive and the other two. Now that they both were adults, they realized that Anabella had systematically tried to break Clive. And she might have even succeeded, had she not grown overconfident and conspired with the empire for an open attack. For she had not broken Clive but awoken something a lot darker.
Shaking his head, Clive took a deep breath. "Coming here helped me to forget who I was... or wasn't," he explained, fingertips wandering over the rough wood on his side. "Prince, shield... a son his mother could love... had I been any of those things, perhaps..."
Jill's hand closed around his in an iron grip, but then she nodded ahead, where Torgal had passed him by and Clive frowned. "What is it, boy?" he asked carefully, wary that maybe the floor they were standing on was unstable and Torgal heard something they had missed, but instead, the hound brought them around a few more old pieces of furniture - a chair and a crate, empty bottle still on it and on the floor in front of them...
Helmets and leather armor, pauldrons and vambraces, a Rosarian longsword slightly rusted but still in good shape. It was a pile of items, old and out of place for where they were. But Clive recognized them almost instantly, as did Jill, her hand gripping his nearly painfully. "These are all from the castle and Phoenix Gate." Surprised Clive looked from Torgal to Jill, but she just shook her head, as confused and overwhelmed as he was, until they both heard the clattering of wood on wood and looked down again. There at Clive's feet was a wooden sword, long and worn from use but also the weather. The grip was wrapped in dirty linen, the crest of the shields carved into the lower part of the blade.
Torgal growled softly but affectionately, tail wagging back and forth, his eyes wide in expectation, while Clive felt his throat tighten and his stomach cramp painfully. For a moment he couldn't breath and his voice was refused to work. "My sparring sword," he whispered, the tears now burning in his eyes too, and before he could wipe them away, they spilled down his face.
Jill drew in a shaking breath as well. “Sometimes Torgal would disappear for days, after Phoenix Gate had happened,” she said, eyes wide with realization. “But he always came back, so we thought he just went hunting or spending his days somewhere hidden, but I never thought… I never even considered he would…”
Going down to his knees, Clive sat down in front of his loyal hound, hands running through the thick fur around his neck, before he pulled Torgal closer, his forehead now against that of the dog, both just breathing. "You never stopped looking for me, did you boy?” he asked, voice now stuck in his throat and more tears running down his cheeks. Torgal just whined, before he pressed himself into Clive, pawing at his knees. Clive knew, that it wasn’t enough; that it would never be enough, but he had to say it. “Thank you for never giving up, for never forgetting.” Wrapping his arms around Torgal. Clive held onto his him, when he felt Jill’s arms around himself and the dog, just adding to the pile and he felt himself relax into the warmth of them, thawing his froze soul. This was home - there was no doubt about it.
They held onto each other for another long moment, Clive's fingers still curled into Torgal's fur, before he was finally able to let go. Leaning back onto his heels, he picked up the sword between them, grasped his fingers about the familiar hilt and the well worn grip, the other one running along the wooden blade, feeling each nick and every bump that the weapon had suffered in it's long years of service to each and every trainee, that had swung it.
"Let's take this with us, shall we?" Clive asked softly, before he pushed himself back onto his feet. "So I don't forget either." He kept the sword in his hand for another moment, before he finally turned it and then shoved it in between the belts and the sheath that held the Invictus on his back.
Giving him another moment, Jill walked towards the end of the tree house. "So, you and Torgal would come here to..."
"... flee from my mother, from the nobles, and from the world that shunned me for something I wasn't," Clive explained, gloved hands now running over the wooden wall, where he had usually been sitting, Torgal in his lap, stroking him to comfort himself and the pup, who could feel his distress more than clearly. "Uncle Byron had it built for me, when I was still a child. I think he saw how mother treated me and decided that I needed a retreat, and sometimes when I came to visit him, I did nothing but stay here for days on end, only returning for meals if I didn’t have enough along to last even over a night or two. Of course I could only do that, when I didn't have Joshua along, but you know how much mother tried to limit the contact between the three of us."
Jill growled, her hand curled into a fist. "That horrible woman. I really wish, she hadn't been able to flee. Would have had to stand trial for what she did to the shields at Phoenix Gate, what she did to the duchy and especially, what she did to you."
Reaching out, Clive threaded his fingers in between hers and then pulled her into his arms, burying his nose into her silver her. "I'm sure that fate will have us cross paths again and then we will get our answers and our retribution," he whispered, and he felt her arms tighten around his waist.
"Don't you want her dead?" Jill asked softly.
For a moment Clive was taken aback by the question, since he had not expected it and he had to think about it in earnest, before he allowed the words to cross his lips. "There was a time I did," he finally said. "When I found out, that Father and Joshua were still alive and that she not only had betrayed us, but bought herself into Sylvestre's bed. But the wish to see her life fade from her very eyes, disappeared over the years of bloodshed I was objected to. I became a part of the violence and killing and I grew numb enough to it, that I didn't want to add her to my still growing list as well. Quite the opposite even. I wanted to understand why she had done it."
"Then you are kinder in your heart than you think and that I am," Jill remarked. "Until you returned and we started to talk and spend these long hours together, fell in love with each other, all I ever wanted, was to see your mother be judged for her treachery and executed. I had thought, that I would need to see her gone to get closure, but now I realize that my hatred might have helped me to survive the years after Phoenix Gate, but it's no longer a driving force that I need to go on. My driving force is here in my arms." Leaning her forehead against his, she breathed in his exhale and Clive could only watch her, when a smile began to form around her lips. "You are my treasure and my star, and I promise you Clive, that I will be with you no matter where life and fate will lead us. And if fate has to fall by our hand, then I will hold the sword together with you, to sever the ties."
And so Clive surged forward to capture her lips in a long kiss, a kiss that was fueled by love and a promise made, a promise that would bind them together forever and for always.
Keeping Jill close, Clive let the comfortable silence sink deep into their bones, listening to her soft breathing and the rustling of the leaves outside their shelter. The rain would soon come, since Clive could smell it in the air and he didn't know if the roof would hold it entirely, but he wanted to say, what was on his mind since they had crossed the bay to get here. "I want this here to be our sanctuary," he whispered softly, and Jill looked up at him, one brow raised. "I want to rebuild and restore this treehouse. Make it more sturdy and weatherproof, maybe add some windows. I want to bring decent mattresses in and maybe some cutlery, pots and pans, I want to add a little fireplace we can use to cook. I want this to be our place to hide away from the world."
Jill looked at him, before she ran her fingers through his dark hair, a wide smile on her face. "I'd love that," she whispered. "And I'm sure if we ask your uncle for help, he will aid us with the materials once again."
"I have no doubt about it, but how about we head back and simply ask him," Clive chuckled, before he trailed his lips along her jaw, nipping at her skin. "If he agrees and we get the materials fast enough, we might already be able to put in some work while we are here."
"Sound strategy, my Lord Marquess," Jill breathed, fingers now deep into his hair, while he sucked open mouthed kisses along her pulsepoint. "Although, maybe... we have a few more minutes before we return. I'd rather like it here and I think this treehouse needs a proper farewell, before we renovate it, don't you think."
"My lady is absolutely right," Clive growled, fingers already working on the buckles of Jill's vest.
Chapter 16: Things Fall Apart
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
To Clive and Jill's delight, Byron was more than on board with their suggestion to rebuild the tree house and by the evening, he had arranged a delivery of the most sturdy wood to the bay by the next morning, and had enlisted the help of the carpenter that usually did all the works around the manor to assist them in their adventure - of course the man had been sworn to silence, but he was used to that already. One didn't work for years with the Lord of Port Isolde without learning some fundamental rules about the art of keeping their mouth shut.
By the end of the week, they had decided what elements of the old treehouse to keep and the carpenter had been quite happy with the overall shape of it, so they had replaced those boards that had suffered too much from the weather and then strengthened the remaining elements. Those walls that were stable enough got small windows and simply shutters to keep the rain out, but otherwise they kept it as rudimentary as possible. Clive had decided that the other things could be done over time. The carpenter made sure that the planks would keep out the weather and animals alike and even though Clive had not yet planned to bring in a full bed, they did build a small corner with the wood they had left, where they could pile up bales of straw, throw a sheet over it to make themselves a mattress. The straw could be thrown out when it was no longer needed for the animals that lived on the small island.
All in all, the three of them were quite pleased with their progress in the short amount of time and the carpenter promised to do some more work in their absence, since Clive and Jill had already planned to return to Rosalith after a week. The empire was still a wild coeurl on their doorstep and neither would they find answers by relying on their contacts alone. Clive had already agreed with Jill, that if they didn't have more information upon their return, they would widen the search towards the north and get in touch with those of the northern thegns that had fled, when the Blight had enveloped their lands.
A lot of the traditions of the north were relayed by songs and poems, but little was written down. Yet, there were libraries in certain strongholds; the one of Jill's father had been one. By what they knew, it had already been swallowed by the blight and traveling there would require a lot of preparation, but they had to take every lead and every chance.
And so it was no surprise for the both of them, that they found Elwin and Joshua in the Archduke's study, together with a man in a grey cowl, mulling over some messages that had been spread over the wide desk, all letters bearing a seal that seemed to stir something in Clive's memories, but he couldn't quite grasp it and so it slipped away and for the moment, Clive allowed it to, concentrating on what was right in front of him.
His father looked up from his standing position behind the desk and a smile pulled his lips upward. "Welcome back," he greeted them both, before pulling them close and into a hug, one arm around Jill, the other one around Clive. "While I am very much aware of the fact, that it has been my idea to send you to Port Isolde, I am very happy and very glad that the two of you are back safe and sound."
Clive chuckled softly. "Thank you. Now, what did we miss?"
Letting go of them both, Elwin nodded to Joshua, before returning to his desk and Clive made a step forward as well. "This is Cyril, he is the Bearer of the Burning Quill," Joshua said and Clive needed a moment to sort his memories.
"The second in command of the Undying after the Phoenix?" he asked, his eyes focused on Joshua to make sure he got it right, and all it needed was a quick nod from his brother.
Yet, the look on Jill's face told him clearly, that she required an additional explanation and for one moment, Clive was surprised. Jill was as close to his family as it could get, she was pretty much a daughter of the Archduke, even if not by blood. How had she never been informed about this vital part of the duchy's intelligence. "Would you care to elaborate?" Jill asked softly and it only needed one look to Joshua for Clive to get an answer.
"The Undying are loyal servants to the ducal throne," he explained, crossing his arms in front of his chest, while he tried to remember the details he heard so long ago from his father. He had still been a child then. "Or more specifically to it's heir. They have served out family for generations, albeit from the shadows."
"Since their inception they have been tasked with the preservation and enactment of the rites of the ancestral communion," Joshua added, hands crossed behind his back.
Now Jill's eyes widened. "The Undying delivered you and His Grace to safety," she said and Clive could see, how she was biting back the words she was about to add. Words he knew were burning on her tongue like poison and ice. They had saved Joshua and doomed him to a life of slavery and pain.
Clive took a deep breath, before he reached out to her, threading his fingers through hers in an attempt to comfort her. There was nothing they could do now about it anymore. The past was done and they had to live with the consequences, whether they liked it or appreciated the decisions that had been made.
Looking to the side, Clive saw the frown on Joshua's face as well, well knowing what went through Jill's head, but he as well decided to not comment on it, but instead focused back on the topic at hand. "Cyril, what do we know of the internal workings in Sanbreque after the return of Prince Dion?" he asked and Cyril turned to him.
Clive shook his head, his memories forcing a sense of recognition onto him. Slivers of movement out of the corner of his eye, the feeling of being watched. A feeling that hadn't been there in the first years of his forced duty to Sanbreque. It had strengthened a decade later, until it had stopped, after he had... Clive's head shot up and his eyes narrowed. There was a glint on the cowl of the man - Cyril, Joshua had addressed. A seal in the form of a brooch.
Holding up his hand, he looked at Joshua, then at the man, his brother had called Cyril. “Forgive me, Joshua. It’s just a short question. Lord Cyril, may I see the broach you are wearing?” Clive asked and he could see the raised brow on Joshua’s face but he nodded and with the nod, Cyril removed the little peace on his cowl, placing it in Clive’s waiting palm. For a second he just looked at it, rolled it back and forth between his fingertips, but then he reached into one of his satchels. The one he kept various items in, unsorted and found on his travels and this broach was one of the few things, he had kept from his time in the imperial army. Because it had made no sense to him, it had been a riddle that needed to be solved and so far, the answer had eluded him. Until this moment. Rummaging through the pack, he pulled forth the broach stored there and placed it next to the one he had just been given on his palm. They were identical and Clive’s frown deepened, just like that of the others in the room.
“Clive, why do you have a seal-broach of the Undying on you?” the Archduke asked, the frown on his face now mirroring the one Clive had on his own.
But Clive felt his own fall away in favor of a low growl, before he placed both seals into his father’s waiting hand, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Some three years ago, the Bastards and I were sent to a small town in the middle of nowhere in Dhalmekia to steal the schematics for some siege machinery the Dhalmkes were rumored to have planned. We were to retrieve them and bring them back to Oriflamme. Or the next best imperial outpost, so they could be forwarded.” Clive looked out of the window for a moment, his eyes wandering over the rooftops of the houses down in the city, so easy see from the elevated position the castle was in. An architecture so different from the clayhouses and the sand dusted buildings in Dhalmekia. Not to mention the unbearable heat while the day. He tried to remember that night, with all its details.
“We had retrieved the plans and were on our way back to the outpost on the Sanbreque side of the border and Tiamat decided to rest for the night, since Aevis had taken a sword to the the thigh and was slowing us down considerably. He assumed, that a full nights rest would help with the wound, since Biast had done what he could with his magic. We camped in a small ravine outside of Tabor, I think was it? - and I had the second watch.” Clive’s voice was even, when he recalled the event, for in this moment, we was nothing more than a watcher, the moment long past and would have been forgotten, if not for that seal.
“I don’t know exactly, where the man came from,” Clive said, one hand on his chin while he began to pace the room. "I had heard him on approach, but had considered him a wild animal, since we had dispatched a pack of wolves before and had to leave their remains on the road, because night had already fallen and Aevis needed the rest. We knew that the corpses would attract predators, bandits and scavengers alike but we were too tired to move further." Stopping himself for a moment, Clive went back to that moment. "He was standing in the light of the fire all of a sudden, dagger raised and ready to strike. The only reason I'm still alive, is because I had to learn over the years to be aware even of the slightest change in the aether and I could feel his, when he approached me. He was fast and he was deadly, and had I been any other man, I'm sure he would have gotten me."
Clive took a deep breath, before continuing on. "When he couldn't kill me with the dagger, he pulled a sword on me, but I was too fast and a moment later, I had him dead on the ground. By then, Tiamat and the others had woken as well and we decided to move, just in case there were more. I had thought him a mere bandit, had it not been for this seal and the fact that the blade of his dagger had been coated in some sort of pure Wyverntail extract. The same extract that is mixed in lower doses into the branding ink that is used to enslave a Bearer. We left is body where he had fallen, only taking his valuables with us to sell them later. We sold the dagger too, but I remember now, that it had the same seal as Master Cyril here."
Joshua's eyes were wide, just like that of his father, before both turned to the man in the cowl. "Cyril, the seals of the Undying are not handed out to random people and using the extract of the Wyverntail for assassinations is a common practice for the order. If there is something you have not told me, then I would suggest you speak now, for I will not take kindly to being lied to or mislead," Joshua growled and the Archduke had gotten up from his chair as well.
Cyril's eyes were fixated on Joshua, since he was the Phoenix and Clive knew, that the creed of the Undying was towards the Phoenix and the Phoenix alone, no matter the fact that his father was still the head of state.
Finally Cyril began to speak, his voice even and surprisingly calm, nearly uncaring and Clive felt a shiver running down his spine. How could this man be so nonchalant about the underlying accusations he was faced with. "While His Grace and the prince recovered from the events that transpired at Phoenix Gate, the Undying of course were investigating how the catastrophe had come pass. Not only the aspect of the former's duchess's treason but naturally we also turned our attention to identifying the Dominant of Fire who had so grievously wounded the Phoenix and our suspicions eventually came to rest on the late Clive Rosfield." He stopped, looking at Clive and Ifrit inside him wanted to rise and lash out, since every single one of his instincts screamed at him, that this man had no good intentions in mind. "Or not so-late, as we came to understand many years later when word reached our ears of a slave soldier who seemed to wield the Phoenix's Blessing. We readied our assassins forthwith..."
"Let me get his straight," Joshua interrupted him, his voice deadly cold and if Shiva wasn't a female Eikon by default, Clive would have sworn he held ice-aspected magic and not fire. His brother's hands were balled into fists, the black leather stretching over his knuckles and Clive could feel him pull on the aether around him. "You knew that Clive was still alive, but instead of coming to me or my father with this vital information, you kept silent and instead sent an assassin to kill him?"
Cyril nodded. "He was a danger to the..."
Clive knew what the last word of the sentence would have been, had Joshua not released his anger in that moment in one volatile reaction, feathers of fire and flame erupting from his back, setting alight some carpets and books, and Clive cursed, before he was jumping forward, hands wrapping around his brother's wrists, while Jill brought up a weak version of her her area spell to douse the flames and the smoldering furniture.
"Joshua, stop it!" Clive barked, holding with his own raw strength and even a bit of Ifrit against his brother... and against the Phoenix, who was as enraged and angry as his Dominant. "Burning Cyril to a crisp and the castle down, will not change what happened. Let it go, Joshua." Clive's voice lost it's fire and turned into a soft plea. "I am here now and I'm home. That's all that matters. Come back to me, brother."
Joshua's lip curled up into a vicious snarl. "They left you for dead and condemned you to thirteen years of slavery because of it," he growled, voice still shifted and infused with rage and aether in his semi-primed state, feathers furling and unfurling like the fingers of a fisted hand. "And then, they had the audacity to try and rip you out of our lives forever. This can not be left unanswered."
"Yes, but be it as it may," Clive couldn't believe that he was the one defending the very people and the man who tried to had him killed from his brother. "I assume the associates we have in the other cities are all members of the Undying, and right now we need them and the information they can get us. Something big is working against us here and we have to learn everything that we can, to make it out alive. Us and the duchy. Rage and revenge can wait until later, alright?
Taking a deep breath, Joshua closed his eyes and Clive could feel his pull on the aether fading until the feathers disappeared into wisps of light and aether, glowing blue eyes turning back into a soft green. Another deep draw of air, and Clive let go of his hands, while Jill walked over the the windows and opened all of them, so the smell and the smoke could escape the room. Looking up to his father, Clive saw the relief in his eyes that the catastrophe of the castle being burned down was averted, but deep down he could still see the fury that was mirrored in Joshua's eyes.
"Alright," Joshua growled, before he turned to Cyril. "For now, I will let the matter slip since there are indeed more important things to discuss that we can actually influence, but I will say this. This is not over yet and if you or anyone else in the ranks of the Undying will ever decide anything over my head or that of my father again, there will be consequences. I don't care if you have sworn to protect my life against enemies inside and outside of Rosaria. My brother and his Eikon are off limits to any of you. Until further notice, you will also be removed from the position as Bearer of the Burning Quill and stripped of all your ranks and titles inside the Undying. A man who has no qualms to assassinate a member of the ducal family is no longer trustworthy. All incoming correspondence will go to my desk directly, until we have found someone who has our utmost trust in leading the Undying."
Clive had to admit, that right now he wondered, why Joshua hadn't taken over the throne from their father yet. In this very moment, he was the embodiment of leadership and a Dominant most worthy of the Eikon he carried. He would make a fine Archduke, the day he realized this for himself. There was another moment of silence, while Joshua gathered himself. Cyril had not moved while Joshua's reprimand, had taken it stoically and without flinching even, when Joshua had released the Phoenix. The hood still pulled deep into his face, Clive could only see the man's eyes reflecting the light from the outside, and he couldn't help but wonder if Cyril had been well aware what his order could mean to him, should it ever come to light. Maybe he had already known, how Joshua would react if he should ever been found out and he had still gone through with it, to protect the Phoenix. In a way, their loyalty and devotion to the Phoenix was as remarkable as it was frightening... and dangerous.
Flexing his fingers one last time underneath his glove, Joshua's eyes went from Clive to Cyril and Clive stepped aside. "Now, what do we know about Dion and Sanbreque?" he growled in a low voice.
Cyril bowed, still seemingly unfazed, and Clive really had to applaud the man for his composure. "Yes, my prince. According to the last messages that we received from our brothers and sisters in Oriflamme, the official statement is, that the prince has been heavily wounded in the latest siege efforts and that Rosaria employed a new magic to lay Bahamut low. The prince is now under the care of the palace healers and supposed to rest until his strength has returned and he is able to summon his Eikon again."
"So, the empire is hiding the fact, that Clive ripped Bahamut off Dion?" Jill asked, her arms crossed in front of her chest and Clive felt the cold aether still swirl around her in agitation, and for a moment he wondered if she would have done the same to Cyril with her ice as Joshua did with his flames, if he had not been faster.
"Yes Mylady. We assume that the empire has been trying to keep this peculiar tidbit of information from the public in hopes of maintaining the appearance of a strong nation to the outside."
"It's all they can do now, considering they are surrounded by Dominants from all sides," Elwin remarked, as he walked around his desk and leaned against the front of it. "One of your latest reports said, that the Empire is dispatching troops towards the south now and away from our borders. Is this still a fact, that they move without having their Eikon at their disposal?"
Cyril nodded again. "Yes, your Grace."
"If this is the official statement," Clive remarked. "What is really going on? Sanbreque is masterful in lying to it's people and if I have noticed one thing in my long years of forced service, then it is the fact that nothing is the way it seems in the empire."
"You are correct, my Lord Marquess," Cyril agreed. "The truth of the matter is far darker than even the Undying had expected. Upon his return to the Holy Capital of Oriflamme, Prince Dion was removed from his position as the head of the Dragoons due to his... unexpected condition and even though it is called medicinal care and observation, the empress has seen to it, that the prince's recovery is nothing else but a luxurious house arrest. Communication with his dragoons is prohibited and the only contact he seems to have, is through his former second-in-command, who has been lifted from his position as well under the argument to aid his lord in his recuperation period. Yet, his movement is as limited as that of the prince."
"So our mother has taken Dion effectively off the board, now that he is no longer useful to her own schemes," Clive growled and he could feel Ifrit stir deep down. Yes, there was a certain unease between their Eikons and especially after what had happened, but Dion didn't deserve this, for Clive was well aware, what tactics his mother would employ to reach her goals. Even if she wouldn't be able to turn the opinion and the view of the folk and the general populace, she would use her power and her influence to poison Dion's reputation with the nobles and the cardinals, and this would spill over at one point as well. It would be a long scheme, but unfortunately, Anabella Lesage had proven her patience in the worst ways already.
"There are more disturbing news, I'm afraid," Cyril added and with a nod, Joshua told him to go on. "All of these information are currently not confirmed, but whispers speak, that the Emperor plans to give the command of the Dragoons to a Lord very close to your lady mother's choosing, remodeling them into a different kind of elite force."
Clive frowned. Or maybe for once his mother was not in a waiting mood. "Cyril, are there an hints towards attempts on Prince Dion's life?"
Looking at him, Elwin rose an eyebrow. "Do you think?" he asked, without actually finishing the sentence.
"That's exactly what I'm thinking," Clive snarled, venom fueling his words and and voice. "Mother had no qualms betraying us and selling me, her own son, to the enemy as a slave. What do you think she'll do to a Dominant who can no longer summon his eikon and she has no connection to, but the fact that she married his father. She has Olivier with Sylvestre and the boy is already named the crown prince. He will inherit the throne, not Dion. Sylvestre is no longer the kind-hearted ruler he once was... if he ever was, that is. Dion has no more value for the Holy Empire of Sanbreque. If he can't summon Bahamut, they will get rid of him in one was or another. They can't have him branded and thrown to the wolves, since that is too dangerous. The public could recognize him. So it will be something else, most likely poison.” Could she really want to be rid of him so badly?
"It would be the best moment to do it," Jill agreed thoughtfully. "Dion is isolated and still weak, the public doesn't know about his health or his general state und if he dies now, they can claim he succumbed to his wounds, which will turn all attention away from them and all ire on us, cause he got injured fighting our forces - or Clive specifically. They might have been the aggressor in that conflict, but they will turn that to their advantage as well."
"The Whitewyrm controls all flow of information and I have my sincere doubts, that they have ever told the public that they marched up on our borders, after all they even managed to deny the attack on Phoenix Gate," Joshua added. "Despite the fact that we threw the armors of their dragoons at their feet."
Elwin rubbed his face with his hands, before he looked at the three Dominants in the room. "We have these informations now, so what are we going to do with them?"
"Let them sit and think about them for a day or two," Clive replied, turning to Cyril. "What do we have on the topic of the four armed creature?"
Cyril bowed. "Very little still, my Lord Marquess. Our brothers and sisters have found vague references towards a long extinct cult that worshipped a being with four arms, but writings are sparse. But we will keep looking of course."
"What about the movements of the imperial troops?" Elwin asked.
"The legions are still restocking and reforming in Oriflamme and in the respective garrisons of the empire, but their movements have been towards the south without fail, away from the borders of Rosaria."
Joshua nodded. "That's it for today," he said. "I will be with the Undying shortly to discuss your successor as the Bearer of the Burning Quill."
With another bow, the man left the office and the moment the soft click of the lock was heard, it was as if a collective sigh and exhale went through the room. As if everyone had been holding their breath and waited...
"By the flames, they tried to kill you," Elwin hissed, his eyes boring into Clive with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. "When did the Undying became this radical? Or did we just never notice because it never hit so close to home? Because it served us and we didn't want to see?"
Joshua shook his head and his whole body seemed to sag, as if someone had cut the strings of a puppet. "I hate saying it, but for once I am glad, that the empire put you through his horrid wringer, Clive. If they hadn't, the assassin might have killed you that night and you would have never returned to us... and I would have lost the first battle against Bahamut, when you intervened and took him down instead."
Clive sighed, before he walked up to his father and sat down next to him on the top of the desk. "To my dismay I can understand why they did it, since protecting you is the most important for them, as it is for me, but that doesn't mean I am happy, that they chose me as a target and tried to take me out, without consulting either of you two."
"The question is: How do we proceed from here and what are we doing about the empire and about Dion?"
Elwin frowned. "I know what's going on in those heads of yours, but that is a dangerous game. Getting Dion out of Oriflamme and to Rosalith could drag us into a war we can't escape. The empire will use it as an excuse to invade us to get their prince back," he said, voice serious and warning. "They will claim that we abducted him. Not to mention that neither of us knows, if Dion would really want to come with you. You might risk your life for an unwilling man."
Rubbing his hands over his face, before leaning his head back, Clive closed his eyes. His father had a damn good point with this and there was too much at stake to make this decision on a whim, that much was for sure as well. Elwin Rosfield wasn't the Archduke of the Grand Duchy of Rosaria for so long without nothing to show for it. He had pacified the north and he had managed to hold the Empire at bay for over a decade. Clive would not endanger what his father had labored so hard for to build.
But there was no denying that he felt guilty for what he had done. If it hadn't been for that gift or curse, or whatever it was, that he had been given, he would have never taken Bahamut from Dion. Would have never reduced the Warden of Light to a shell of his former self. A shell that had now become another political weapon in the hand of his mother. As if she hadn't already done enough to Dion, after degrading him under the disguise of a promotion to get her own damned son onto the path of the throne. Clive knew that he shouldn't hate on the child, for he had no fault of his own in the machinations of his mother and his father, but that didn't mean, he wasn't disgusted of the mother they shared.
"Maybe we should start with the easier things and really sleep a night over that particular matter," Clive finally said. "Let's start with the most obvious of all, because the creature that called me it's vessel is just another dead end for the time being."
"The movements of the imperial army," Jill said, when she too now leaned against the desk, allowing Clive to wrap his arm around her waist, sprawling his fingers wide over her abdomen.
Elwin nodded. "South," he said with a shake of his head. "There are only two choices in the south and I am pretty sure, I know what target I would choose. Sylvestre is desperate and he needs a quick and easy success, especially now that his main weapon is no longer useful. But the reason is still why? Where does this sudden desperation come from? This desperation to first try to annex us, despite of our proven Dominant and now..."
"... they are marching towards the Crystalline Dominion," Clive finished his father's thought and sentence. They had the same idea, and Clive could see no other target for the emperor's madness. Unlike Dhalmekia, the Crystalline Dominion did not have a Dominant of it's own, it's sovereignty based on nothing but an old accord and treaty. And paper was patient, as Sylvestre had already proven once these thirteen years ago, when he had ripped the Triunity Accord apart and tried to kill the Archduke and his sons. And after threatening Rosaria twice now without the Dhalmekian Republic intervening on Rosaria's behalf, he set his eyes on a different target and he wouldn't stop, just because one of his predecessors had signed a piece of parchment.
Joshua frowned. "If he really tries to invade the Crystalline Dominion he will lose all sympathies from the remaining nations in Storm, not that there are many left at this point. I would assume that only Dhalmekia will feel threatened by this aggressive expansion, and maybe Waloed. I do admit though, that the Iron Kingdom has been suspiciously silent since their own failed attempt at beating us into submission."
"We are surrounded by coeurls," Jill said with a shake of her head, hand sneaking down and capturing Clive's in an iron grip. As if she needed an anchor to not be washed away by the currents of the present and he couldn't fault her for it. Over a decade, the world had tethered on the brink of a war but never moving and suddenly, everything seemed to happen at the same time. How could they proceed from here? Was there even a good way to move forward?
Joshua groaned. "All of this is giving me a headache," he complained and for a moment, Clive couldn't help but chuckle, not seeing the future Archduke in front of him, but his little brother whining about the vegetables on his dinner plate.
"I'm sure you'd eat all your carrots now, if it would get you out of this, right?" Clive grinned and Joshua's movement froze.
"Never, carrots are evil incarnate," he stated with a conviction that seemed to echo in his whole demeanor and his bones.
Clive chuckled. "Still, the question is. How do we go from here? Do we risk exposing ourselves in an attempt of saving Dion, or let we take the internal workings in Sanbreque it's course and hope that Dion comes out on top and not in a casket? If we wait, do we want to wait until we can be sure, that Sylvestre plans to invade the Dominion and use this as a cover to get Dion out? And there is still the question of why? What happened in Sanbreque to make Sylvestre this reckless?"
Joshua shook his head. "I'll talk to the Undying, get Cyril's successor lined up and then I'll try to send out more to gather information. We should also send a Stolas back to Port Isolde, that Uncle Byron uses all his contacts to see if he can glean more insight into the matter. It would especially interesting to know what his old friend in the Dhalmekian parliament thinks about this."
"Sounds as if we have our work cut out for us," Elwin said. "Let's get to it then."
"What are you thinking?" Jill's voice was soft, nothing but a murmur in the darkness of the night and the only thing lighting the bedroom was the faint flickering of the remaining flames of the logs in the fireplace. Looking down, Clive saw her eyes shimmering and her hair spilled over her back like a silken waterfall, his fingers still threading through the longs strands. He hadn't even noticed doing it, until she had shifted closer to him, her cool skin pressed against his own.
He shook his head, gathering his thoughts, trying to line them up. "Sanbreque," he finally said, and his voice was shaking, even though he tried to keep the words even. "I had known that I would go back there one day, but I had never thought it to be so early. It feels as if it was just yesterday that I finally escaped."
Jill moved closer to him, pressing her body along his side and he felt every curve and every single breath. "Are you afraid?" she whispered, her voice soft, while she ran her fingertips tenderly along the tendons on his neck, feeling for his pulse, before placing a kiss on his chest, right above his heart.
"I am," he finally replied, taking a deep breath, well knowing that Jill could feel his heartbeat speeding up and the way his body trembled underneath her hand. Why was he suddenly scared? He had thought about it a few times, of when and how he would return to Sanbreque, but never had it thrown him into such a turmoil of emotions and feelings. Maybe because until that point, it had never been more but an idea and an option, but now it was very much a fixed plan that would come to fruition sooner than later.
Pushing herself up, Jill moved herself to the side, slipping atop of Clive, so she could see his eyes and Clive appreciated the gesture, since it allowed him to hold her tightly to himself, with the fingertips of one hand wandering up her spine, feeling for every vertebra underneath her soft skin. "Clive, you know that you don't have to return to Sanbreque, right?" Jill asked softly. "Your brand is a threat to your life there even more than it is here. We can get Dion out with some Shields trained in covert operations as well."
Clive shook his head. "No, you'll need me," he replied, determination coloring his voice, while his grip around Jill tightened. He frowned for a moment, before concentrating back on her with storm-eyes reflecting the faint ember of the fire. "I know the inner workings in the imperial army better than anyone else you have at your disposal and even though I wasn't in Oriflamme often, I do remember the city and the guard rotations, and if the imperial army and the garrison at Oriflamme is one thing, it is complacent. The soldiers that do guard duty in Oriflamme are those of the high houses and noble families, who don't want their sons risking their lives on the battlefield and so they kind of buy their safety. But that also dulls their senses. There might be some more experienced soldiers in the rotation now, with the battalions being moved, but I doubt there will be many." For a moment he stopped, then he raised an eyebrow. "Besides, what makes you so sure, I'll take you along?"
Soft laughter made Jill's body shake in his arms, before she pressed a kiss to his lips. "As if you could leave me behind," she whispered amusedly, before probing him with a brush of her tongue and he obliged her, opening himself to deepen the kiss, hands now wandering down to knead her rear. "And I doubt your brother will let you go alone either.”
The movements of his hands stilled and Clive closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing against her lips. "I know once Joshua has heard of this plan and made up his mind, he will come along as well, but I'd wish one of you would remain here," Clive mused, before dropping a small kiss on the tip of her nose. "One Dominant to hold the line at home, in case anything goes horribly wrong and our enemies only wait for us to leave the duchy unprotected."
Jill shook her head. "Even if all of us leave, the duchy will never be unprotected," she replied. "We will never be taken unawares again. Your father has seen to that."
Resuming his previous motions, Clive traced Jill's spine with his fingertips, gaze blind to what was in front of him, but instead lost in his thoughts. "I just can't bear the thought," he said after a while, now looking directly at Jill again. "I lost so many years with you, and Joshua, and my father. The thought that one of you could slip through my grasp, because I was a reckless fool..." Clive shook his head and took a deep breath. "And leaving Rosalith entirely unprotected in this situation feels like an unwise move."
Brushing her lips over his, Jill sighed. “Let’s see what your father and your brother have to say to the matter. It was a long day for all of us and we need to rest to think clearly again.”
“Trust me, if I could stop thinking and just fall asleep, I would do it,” Clive snorted but in the next moment he hissed and his eyes fell close. “Jill,” he growled, but her reply was a soft chuckle, a few more soft strokes along his rapidly hardening length and then there was nothing but Jill anymore, coherent thoughts drowning in hot, white bliss.
Notes:
In the game, the Undying brought Clive to Joshua's attention shortly after they had found him and Joshua stopped the assassination, but I thought what could happen if they didn't stop the assassination or couldn't get in touch with their agent and then I wondered, how Joshua would react if he ever found out, that they withheld information and endangered Clive. Angry chicken is angry.
Chapter 17: Why We Fight
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Clive woke up alone, when the first rays of the sun began to warm the room, but the other side of his bed was long cold and abandoned. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips, before he buried his nose in the pillow that was Jill’s, inhaling the remaining scent of her. Since their return from Port Isolde, Clive had come to hate their arrangement, even though he very well knew that it was to protect them both, but especially Jill from the self-righteousness of those old hardliners around them. They both knew that their Eikons would not matter, if the rest of Rosaria found out, that Jill slept with a Branded, no matter who he was in truth.
But being able to sleep in with Jill, holding her in his arms and making love to her lazily as the first thing in the morning, had given Clive a taste of domestic bliss and joy, that he wanted for them everyday now. But life had other plans and once back in Rosalith, they had taken up their roles again and the precautions they had employed since their first night together.
They would separate again before the dawn, the one not belonging to the quarters returning to their own ahead of the servants waking and preparing for the day. They would spend the last hour alone in beds to big for them, sleeping restless and wishing for the other one to be there, the warm and velvet silk of skin underneath fingertips and the even breathing, turning into whispered pants and small cries of elation and ecstasy, accompanied by the the sounds of their passion.
Clive shook his head, banning the thought before he had to handle his own arousal without Jill, and that was not something he was looking forward to since the first time she had insisted of pleasing him, after the carpenter had left them at the Rookery for the day with the last dinghy. She had simply pulled Clive back out of sight of the shore, pushed him against a tree with a wide and mischievous grin, and freed him from the confinements of his trousers and in a matter of minutes she had him on the brink and then over it with nothing, but her small hands and her perfect tongue.
Groaning into the pillow, Clive suppressed the urge to scream and forced his hand to stay with him and not wander downward, to take care of himself.
Besides, they had bigger problems to discuss and plans to finalize. Fate was waiting for no man and especially not, when someone as cruel and cunning as Anabella Lesage was holding the reigns, trying to force her schemes to reality. The fact that she had been able to betray Rosaria without his father, the Lord Commander or himself noticing was still a mystery to him. Someone else might say, that he was too young to understand and see it, but it was not an excuse that Clive allowed himself. He had been the youngest Shield in the history of Rosaria and the youngest First Shield as well. He should have seen it.
Rubbing over the itching brand, Clive threw the blankets back and walked to the washroom to get ready for the day.
Over the last week they had focused the Undying’s spy craft on the Empire and the prince, allowing the research for information on the four-armed creature to fall back for the moment. Not that they had much success on that matter either, since the empire was guarding their prince fiercely, telling the public he was cared for and needed rest and none was for the wiser, for the emperor’s word was law.
The imperial forces were still moving and Clive wondered if the High Council of the Crystalline Dominion didn’t see the writing on the wall, while he was pulling his white tunic over his head, stuffing it into his leather pants. The very moment Rosaria had noticed the movements of the Empire towards their borders, they had met them head on. Did the Crystalline Dominion still believe that Sylvestre would honor a piece of parchment from centuries ago? If they did, there was no denial that they were in for a rude awakening at the end of the day.
Unless they had their eyes fixed on a conflict they believed more dangerous, because it was closer to their borders. The Undying had brought back news of smaller units of the Ironblood invading Dhalmekia and engaging in skirmishes with the republican army, but not a full out assault as they had tried on Rosalith. They were most likely still licking their wounds on that front, but invading Dhalmekia felt like a plan as stupid as invading Rosaria. Especially since they still held Drake's Breath; they had their own Mothercrystal, while Drake's Fang was protected by Titan and his Men of the Rock.
Clive shoved his wandering thoughts aside and shook his head, leaving his quarters and making his way down into the main hall, resisting the urge to make a detour over Jill's chambers to steal a kiss from her. Despite Joshua's initial protest, he and their father thankfully had little problem with the fact that they usually smooched at the beginning of their breakfast meetings when it was just the four of them and no one else yet. But the mood often changed the very moment after, for the state of the world was slipping and they all were very much aware of that.
This morning was no different, after Clive had brushed his lips over Jill’s, he had sat down in front of his father’s desk, steaming cups of tea already waiting for them, while Joshua was either still trying to get up, or was grabbing the latest information from the Undying. Thankfully the transition from Cyril to his successor had gone off without a hitch and Cyril was banned to the archives for the time being, since Joshua’s trust had been so shaken, that he didn’t want him anywhere near the current and vital line of information. Yes, maybe they were overreacting, but times were dire.
Joshua came soon after, a bundle of papers in his hand and a plate with food in the other. Just some fruit, raw vegetables and bread with cheese, ham and butter. The staff was still partly appalled by the fact, that the future Archduke had no problem with picking up the breakfast in the kitchen and carrying it through half the castle to it’s destination himself. The former duchess would have had the staff whipped for only thinking of this audacity. But Joshua had insisted and the kitchen staff had backed down.
And if it wasn’t Joshua, who picked up the food, it was either Jill or Clive.
Setting the plate down, so everyone could take what they wanted, Joshua let himself fall into the last chair. “It seems that the Dominion’s patience has reached its end,” he explained, before handing one set of the papers to his father. “They demand an explanation from Sylvestre, why the Empire is amassing the forces at the borders. I guess they weren’t as oblivious to the danger on their doorstep as we thought. The Dominon’s forces are making ready as we speak.”
Clive frowned into his piece of bread. “The Dominions military is not bad, but they don’t have the size to oppose the empire and unlike them, they are not nearly as battle hardened. The Dominion has not seen conflict for years, while the empire had constant skirmishes with the Kingdom of Waloed. And if Sylvestre marches against them with all of their might, they won’t need Bahamut to take the city. Sanbreque’s naval forces are not as good as ours or Waloed’s, but they are not shabby and if they pinch the Dominion from land and sea, there is no need for an Eikon.” Clive took a deep breath, before he turned to Joshua. “Has Dion been called to the front?”
“According to our sources, no,” Joshua replied. “But I would assume that they will, even if it’s just to give the impression that they still have Bahamut up their sleeve.”
“And maybe they have,” Jill remarked. “Who says that what happened between Clive and Dion ins leaving him in this state forever. Who says that he can’t regain his strength and his eikon with time, while Clive holds onto the part he already took. Like a liver. We know that the organ can regrow if only one smaller part is removed.”
For a moment the three men just stared at her and upon seeing the faces of his brother and father, Clive had to keep himself from chuckling, while Jill just raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked. “I do read.”
“You raise a good question,” Elwin agreed, expression still a bit lopsided, before resting his chin on his folded hands. “But if he can regain Bahamut and the strength to prime, will he be alive long enough to do so?”
Rubbing his hands over his face, Clive released a sigh. “You are not making this easy.”
“The curse of being the Archduke,” Elwin snorted amusedly. “You need to account for everything, that could be a risk to the duchy and its people. I know you want to protect and save Dion from what your mother is most likely doing, but unfortunately there are more players in this game, and while the duchy is strong, it is always a risk.” For a moment, there was silence in the office, but then Elwin leaned back, shaking his head. “Let’s be frank. How long are we going to sit here, pretending to still think about this whole matter, while we all have already decided that we are going to help Dion in whatever way we can.”
Now Clive couldn’t help but return the smirk that was pulling his father’s mouth upward. “Let’s get to it then.”
From that moment on, things began to move in earnest, even though Clive could see in the faces of Wade and Tyler - who had been brought into the fray for support, advice and protection of the Archduke once the three Dominants were on the move - that they considered the whole thing madness. Neither of them denied them though, since they both had seen how much the taking of Bahamut hat eaten away at Clive. How much the whole situation in total was getting to him, the fear of not knowing what he actually was.
The fear of making one wrong move and Jill having to pay the price for it. It was a fear that reared it’s ugly head in the morning hours, after they had separated again, each alone in their own bed and when Clive couldn’t entirely separate his nightmares from reality, waking up in cold sweat, tears running over his cheeks, frantically checking his hands for Jill’s blood. Usually he held onto her all the more in the nights afterwards, and if Jill realized, that something was off, she didn’t comment on it, just returned the embrace, pressing soft kisses on whatever part of him she could reach.
It became clear soon enough that getting into Sanbreque was their smallest problem, since the borders were more guarded on the Rosaria side, now that the empire was marching against the Dominion. Getting into Oriflamme and Whitewyrm castle would be more interesting, until Clive reminded them, that they had a third hurdle to take. The checkpoint in Northreach. Clive had already decided to take his imperial uniform and his imperial identification along, even though he was sure that they would have already pulled the markers and declared them deserters. Tiamat, Aevis and Biast were already without theirs when they had fallen to the blades of the Shields. It was a risk, but Clive decided that he could still throw the seal away, if it became to dangerous to use it. Same went for the uniform. Jill and Joshua would take his gear with them aside from the sword, in case they had to switch to a different strategy.
Clive would leave the Invictus behind as well. The blade was too obvious in the hands of an imperial soldier and so he asked the blacksmith for a new one, it’s design based on the simple blade he had wielded when he had returned, but with the edge as sharp as the Invictus.
Scouts were already preparing food stashes close to the border, so they could travel light until then. The chocobos would stay behind in Rosaria, once they had reached them, especially Ambrosia way too suspicious with her white feathers and Clive had to admit that he appreciated it. He couldn’t bear the thought having to leave her behind somewhere, if they had to flee Oriflamme in haste. Sure the bird would find her way home, but the risk was not worth it.
It was Byron who secured them passage through the Northreach checkpoint and into Oriflamme in the end, pulling in favors and strings likewise to get them new documents, while the Undying secured the necessary housing in Oriflamme so they could hunker down for a few days to observe the routines of the guards at the Whitewyrm and the garrison in the capital in itself. Byron was not silent about the fact, that he was not fond about their reckless endeavor, but did understand that Clive tried to make amends, admitting that it was one of his nephew’s best qualities, that despite everything that had happened to him, he was still kind, compassionate and willing to help… willing to sacrifice himself for the good of others.
Once every preparation was done and the last moment of doubt was behind them, the three set out towards their first destination in this more than wild journey, leaving under the pretense of visiting some of the smaller hamlets in the nation to reacquaint Clive with the people, and the duchy. It was a lie straight out, but at least Elwin was able to lie convincingly, unlike his oldest son.
The scouts awaited them at their small supply post, which was nothing more than a glorified and abandoned shack. There they rearranged their packs and gear for the travel ahead, since those things they couldn’t carry in the one pack they took with them, would return to Rosalith with the scouts and the chocobos. Thankfully at least Clive and Jill had learned how to pack very efficiently and soon after, they crossed the border to Sanbreque under the cover of night, keeping to the shadows and resting by day, before moving again, once the sun had set. Clive had to admit, that he loved this way of traveling under the circumstances, even though it had taken all comforts from them. But just with Joshua, there was no need for propriety. Yes, he couldn’t get intimate with Jill, but he could sleep with her by his side throughout the night; he could wake up with her in his arms, without having to fear a servant walking in on them (one of the reasons he always locked the door) or see one them leaving the quarters of the other in the wee morning hours. Here, they could just be Clive and Jill, no titles and no responsibilities.
Restocking in the small village of Lostwing after a week of traveling they made their way further without staying there, since something about the owner of the tavern set off Clive’s instincts, not to mention that the imperial Caer in the Norvent-valley was way too close for his taste. He had been stationed there a few times, giving him enough lay of the fortress and the surrounding area to know where to go and where not. The stretch to Oriflamme was now the most tenuous, since there was nothing between Lostwing, the Caer and Northreach, which made the two day trip interesting to say the least, since Clive hated making camp in the middle of the wide plains and so they had to lengthen their trip a bit to stay at the edges of the woods to have at least a bit of shelter during the day and couldn’t be seen right away.
It was after another two days of the high walls of Northreach came into view and the bustling markets in front of the wall, still a place of hectic and sales, despite the fact that all the legions had moved. Clive couldn’t shake the unease at this, watching the merchants from afar with his thoughts far away. He had stayed behind at the far side of the markets in the shadows, while Jill and Joshua were searching through the stalls to see if they found something interesting and to meet with the contact of Byron, who handed them the required papers and instructions.
It seemed to be nearly too easy and too flawless.
Taking a deep breath, Clive took the seal from Joshua and attached it at his cloak, before looking at Joshua and Jill. "I want you both to remember one thing for the upcoming days,” he said, arms crossing in front of his chest. “We are passing the border into the heart of Sanbreque once we march through these gates. We won't be in Rosaria any longer. Our ranks, our status and who we are has no value there, quite the opposite. We cannot draw attention to ourselves and if it is required, you will have to remember who you are and who I am. More specifically what I am."
Jill shook her head fiercely, before reaching out to him, fingers wrapping around his forearm, holding onto him tightly. "Clive, no. You cannot demand of us..."
He loosened his stance against his better judgement, before leaning forward, pressing a long kiss to her forehead. "In Sanbreque I am not Clive Rosfield. My name will do naught but spell trouble for all of us, just like your names will be.” His voice was softer now, but still serious and determined. What he told them now could be the one thing that could tip the scale into the wrong direction, costing all of them their lives. “If you don't treat me the way the brand requires, we will have eyes on us. Eyes we cannot afford. Especially not here with the garrison this close. I have been here before."
"Brother..." Joshua began.
Releasing the breath in his lungs with a sigh, Clive pulled them both into an embrace, holding them close until their warmth was seeping through the fabric of his clothes. "You have to trust me in this. There is no other way. If I have to become what I once was, then it has to be. I hate it as much as the both of you, but..."
"Clive, we cannot stand idle when they..." Jill replied, voice muffled and she shook her head, before looking at Clive, anger mixed with fear as clear in her eyes as the sun in the sky.
Releasing Jill and Joshua both, he wished things were different, but they weren’t and the brand began to itch and burn, reminding him, that he still was considered a slave by all those outside of Rosalith Castle. "I can defend myself if needed, but I also know, how much I can take if required.”
Balling his hands into fists, Joshua took an audible breath, and Clive could feel the aether shake underneath the feeble hold he had on his emotions. Normally Joshua was a very level headed personality and not quick to anger, but Clive had learned in these few months now, that there was one thing that made Joshua’s rage boil in a matter of moments. If someone or something threatened the people he loved, and Clive could not blame him for it. They were really brothers when it came to this. "This is wrong,” he hissed and Clive could see tears of frustration in his eyes. They had made so much progress with Clive to bring him back from the horrors he had seen as a slave and now he had to walk back into that cesspool with open eyes. It understandably didn’t sit well with Joshua. “You shouldn't have to bow to anyone, to cower before some arrogant nobleman or even a farmer. You should be able to hold your head high like any other human being. You are a Dominant, for Flame's sake."
Now Clive could do nothing else, but smile at his little brother and he was proud of the man, Joshua had grown into. Once he accepted the role, he would make a very fine archduke indeed. But in this moment, it was other things that needed to be considered for the safety of them and their associates. "And they can never know of this,” Clive insisted. “Once Dion is safe, we can think about all of it, but until then we have to play our roles, even if it tears us apart. We have to stay inconspicuous for the safety of all of us.” Enveloping Joshua into another hug and placing another kiss on Jill’s forehead, he looked at both of them. “I can take what they dish out, I have done so for thirteen years of my life. They can't do anything to me, that hasn't already been done." He stopped himself. “And knowing that you two are safe and wait for me, will give me the strength to carry on. No matter how far apart we are, I will find my way back home to you. I lost you once, and it won’t happen again second time.”
“But what if someone recognizes you?” Jill asked, hands slipping into his, fingers intertwined. Her grip was nearly painful.
“I doubt they will,” Clive reassured, not sure if he tried to unsuccessfully convince himself or his family. “The soldiers who were at the Rosarian Border have been moved to Twinside already and for those here, I am nothing but a Branded… I hope.” He nodded towards the checkpoint. “We should get going. There are still merchants passing through and if we follow them, the guards might be more distracted and in a hurry, that they won’t check our papers too thoroughly. Just remember your roles. You are wealthy merchants on the way to Oriflamme to buy various trinkets and I’m your Bearer, sworn to protect your life.”
To their delight, the soldier at the gate was just as unobservant as they wanted it, just checking their papers with a cursory glance, before mumbling something about “another fucking Branded” once they had passed the gates. Still well stocked, they made their way through Northreach without so much as looking left and right, hurrying along the imperial garrison and the nobles that wanted to buy Clive from Joshua, noting something about hoping to get a Bearer in good shape, without having to pay the imperials premium fees for trained former military Branded - which were rare enough, considering how the empire drove their slave soldiers. Most of them died on the battlefield, barely making it through a few fights. That Clive had survived for this long was a testament to his determination and his sheer will to survive, once that will had been stirred.
There was one moment, where they thought it would all end before it really started, when a soldier recognized Clive, but to their relief, Uncle Byron had thought very far ahead and even got them a contract that stated, that the Empire had rightly sold Clive to Lord Jonas Margrace, before the Empire had began to move against Rosaria. Needless to say, after they had left Northreach behind, they had their hearts in their throats and the fear had choked them nearly senseless.
Clive had been stoic and unreadable throughout the whole encounter, but had been white as a sheet, and they all decided to not push to Oriflamme but instead look for a place to camp closer to the water and away from prying eyes. And Clive knew only one corner along the coast and the Royal Meadows that could give them enough cover for the night. He had stayed there once or twice with the Bastards, when they had to make camp outside of Northreach, because the garrison didn't have the space, or the four branded soldier's didn't want to put up with the the other's treatment: Oillepheist Bay.
Jill and Joshua readily agreed, both in dire need of some moments of peace to gather themselves, since this had been way too close. They were still discussing what to make for dinner, when they reached the small area next to the coast that they had intended and it was Clive who stopped dead in his tracks, just staring ahead.
"I don't believe this," he whispered, eyes wide. He made a step closer then faltered, before looking at Jill, seeing his surprise mirrored in her eyes. Before them was a sea of white petals, shimmering golden in the light of the sun, burning away the horizon and the ocean. It was a sight that pulled at Clive's heart in a way he would have never expected and he reached for Jill, threading his fingers through hers and squeezing them tightly.
"Snowdaisies," she whispered out in awe, putting into words, what he couldn't say. "They are beautiful." She pulled him forward with herself, before she went into a crouch to kneel in the grass in between the flowers, her hand still clung in Clive's. "The field at Mann's Hill hasn't been in bloom since we tried to visit it. I have been there two or three times, but never have seen them again and the people in Amber said they didn't either. And now we find them here."
"It is a sight to behold," Joshua agreed, his voice nothing but a soft breath either. "We tried to plant them in the castle garden but they never took root and the gardeners tried everything. We had to get Jill's snowdaisy shampoo and soap from Kanver and Dhalmekia."
Jill snorted, before she got up again, never letting go of Clive. "You always gift me so much for my nameday that it's enough to tie me over until the winter solstice, when you get me the next load."
Now Clive couldn't help but laugh. "He is really making it easy for himself then, by gifting you the same all the time."
"You could say that," Jill chuckled, before she turned back to the flowers and the cliffs that surrounded it. "That little outcropping over there our site for the night?"
Clive nodded. "It is. It will protect us from the wind from three sides and also cover at least part of the fire we're going to need."
Walking over there, Clive saw the frown on Joshua's face. "This isn't all natural, isn't it?" he remarked.
"It's not," Clive replied, walking towards it and running his hands along the stone. "I camped here with the Bastards for like a week once, but there was no space in the garrison and the watch towers and yet we had to await orders and so we snatched the stones from the crumbling walls of Westwatch and build us our own little enclosure here. I was badly injured at that time, after a Waloeder knight had managed to hit through my sleeve and the wound got infected. It was coincidence, that the empire pulled us back and then let us hang out to dry in that moment, since that allowed Biast to heal the worst with magic and then stitch the rest up, but I was still weak and feverish for most of the time. I was barely able to stand, when they send us to Kanver afterwards."
Joshua's face lit up with realization, but also with dread. "The scar on your right arm."
Letting go of Jill, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, he moved forward and let his eyes wander over the fast nothingness of the sea. "I can be glad Biast was there and healed the worst of it right after it happened." Shoving the memories to the side, Clive shook himself free of them. "If I had lost that arm, nothing would have saved me, aside from a full prime. I did read in a book once, that a Dominant can regenerate missing limbs with it, but if I had everything would have come out. The empire would have had a second Dominant at their hand... I don't want to think further... what mother would have done..."
Shaking his head, he turned around. "I'll see that I can find some wood for a fire, you set up the rest of the camp. Musing about the past and paths not taken will get us nowhere."
Once dinner was around, the mood had already improved again. Of course there was a certain tension, since they were wedged in between two imperial watchtowers and the garrison in Northreach, but they held the fire small so they could warm themselves on it through the night and cook the remaining pieces of meat, they had left over from the antelope Clive had slain in the morning.
With Torgal at their side, the three could sleep through the night without any interruption, even though Clive and Jill kept their hands to themselves and just slept in each others arms to not make Joshua run out on them. Yet it couldn't take away the shock, when Clive began to return to the waking world, Jill's warmth against his body missing. He pushed up from their shared bedrolls, eyes racing over their camp before he found her silver hair in between the countless snowdaisies up ahead, the dewdrops on the petals glittering in the morning sun. She was beautiful and a goddess in her own right and Clive still couldn't fathom how he had been the one to be graced with her love, broken as he was.
Leaving Joshua at the small campsite, Clive brushed his bare fingers over Torgal's head. He wouldn't need the gloves, and it was too long, that he had felt Jill underneath his hands. He was nearly there, when she heard the grass rustle underneath his boots and turned around, a large smile on her face. She was indeed the most beautiful being he had ever seen.
"Before we broke camp the morning after the storm - do you know what I did?" she suddenly asked, and Clive didn't need an explanation to which morning she referred. How could he ever forget that storm and that morning, and the scolding that followed.. and the punishment... one he would accept over and over again, if it just meant being back there, close to her, being alive and unbroken... at least as unbroken as he was then, despite his mothers best tries. Yet, the question surprised him.
Looking over the water for a moment, and the way the rising sun was reflecting on it's calm surface he turned entirely to her. "No, what?" he asked softly, hands now softly kneading her shoulders as he came to stand behind her, letting his fingertips run along the lines of her skin underneath her shirt.
She chuckled softly, hands still working on something out of sight, but she leaned her head back, so Clive could get lost in her beautiful eyes, and the color of it's storms. "I slipped away from my governess to climb the tor, and from there I saw a sea of petals, all reaching for the sun," she whispered, smile going soft as she remembered the sight, and then she leaned back against Clive's legs. "I realized, that no matter how terrible the night, dawn would always come. That you would always come... for me." Clive felt his throat go dry and his hands still, her pulse hammering underneath his fingertips. "And you have. Again and again."
He wanted to say that he was not worthy of her praise, that it was her who had saved him more times than he could count. That it had been her, who had pulled his soul back from the abyss by simply making that one prayer for him before they had left for Phoenix Gate. The memory of her eyes had reminded him of a better time. Was he even allowed to hope for even more after this? Hope for a future at her side? "Where do you see us, when all of this is over?" he asked softly, the words slipping free from his lips without him able to stop himself. "When we have Dion saved and the duchy is no longer under threat?"
Jill froze for a moment, but then she pulled her legs up and with one fluent motion, she was back on her feet and turned to him, her eyes back on his. "I don't know," she admitted softly, before turning towards the sea and the sun that rose slowly above the horizon, brushing over the white petals with it's soft and golden hue. She pondered her words for another moment, before covering his brand with her hand, brushing her lips over his. It wasn't a real kiss, just a confirmation, that he was indeed standing in front of her. "But with you back in my life... I want some space to spread my wings... with you. Always with you."
Clive took a deep breath, his heart beating in his chest like the hammer of a blacksmith in their forge. He wanted this future she was painting - he wanted it with her and by her side, no matter what. He wanted to be there when she took flight, wanted to fly at her side. She was all he ever wanted in life, the only thing he never dared to lose. Especially not now and anymore. Never again, he wanted to imagine his life without her. "Then that's what you'll have," he promised her, his hands wandering over her arms and up her neck, cradling her face in his hands. "And I'll stop at nothing to see that you do." It was a prayer and a promise, sealed when he pressed his lips to hers in a long kiss, showing her without words how much she meant to him and that she was his world and his reason, his will to life and keep on going.
They had to let go of each other, when they were running out of air, but Jill stayed close to him, so Clive could feel her soft breathing brush over his lips. He didn't dare to open his eyes, so the moment and this dream would never end, their foreheads touching and nothing between them. How he longed for her to become his again.
She stepped back from him and Clive was forced to open his eyes, his hands falling from her neck down to her elbows. Jill's own wandered to the item she had held in her hands the entire time, a soft smile now on her lips. A smile that Clive wished he could bring to her every waking moment of her life. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to be happy with him. "I never was much good at garlands," she chuckled, and she turned the intricate woven stems and flowers over and over in her hand. "... but it'll have to do." Without another moment of hesitation, she held it out to Clive.
For a moment Clive's heart wanted to jump out of his chest, for this gift was so much more than just a flower garland. It was a gift, that Jill had made with her own hands, a gift she had made by interweaving their memories and their lives together in a way, he would never be able to. The soft scent of the flowers reminded him of everything that was Jill. Strong and yet tender, courageous and brave, beautiful and so very kind. She was all he ever wanted, and so he took the garland from her hands and held it close to his chest, the other hand reaching out for Jill's. "I'll treasure it forever," he promised softly.
Jill smiled and in the next moment, she wrapped her arms around Clive's midsection, pulling him into a tight hug, her face buried in his chest, lips against his chin. She sighed contentedly and he gladly returned the embrace, arms around her and just feeling her close eased the longing in his heart. "Thank you, Clive, for everything," she whispered, her breath brushing over his skin and she pressed her lips there tenderly, before looking up. "For coming back to me." For a moment she hesitated, but then she brushed her lips against his. "You are my treasure."
Without a second in between, Clive pressed his lips to hers. "And you are mine," he murmured in between. "My star in an otherwise unlit and frightening nightsky."
Notes:
Logistics, logistics...
Chapter 18: The Flames of War
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
If it rained in Oriflamme it fucking poured, and Clive couldn't be happier about that fact. It made moving around the city so much easier, since everyone else would flee inside, leaving the streets and alleys empty aside from the barely clothed and fed Bearers running errands for their masters. Clive had his hood pulled up over his head and his armor and cloak did protect him partly from the rain, but he was still drenched to the bone.
The crystals in the lanterns barely lit up the streets he was walking along, but Clive didn't need the light, since Drake's Head behind him threw a constant and eerie glow over the city and by now Clive had memorized all possibles ways from the Whitewyrm back to the small house that the Undying had secured them for their stay in the Holy Capital.
Getting into Oriflamme had been a close call once again, with Joshua having to not only show the certificate that Clive was his property, but even had to threaten the soldier, that he would go to his superior if he kept him any longer. It had been a dangerous gamble, and Clive had already seen himself slitting the poor guys throat. In the end, the soldier had relented and allowed them to go their way, but Clive for sure didn't want to repeat this matter a third time. It had also made clear, that they would not be able to get Clive into the palace by the front door. Even if they managed to disguise Joshua and Jill as nobles, the Brand would never make this ruse work for Clive, and so they had begun to start on different plans at the same time, while hunkering down in their safe house.
While Joshua began to scrape through the public library for building plans and schemata for the palace and the creature that had forced it's power onto Clive, Clive and Jill began their search more on the pulsepoints of the city. Jill walked the markets and posed as a noble woman, descendent of the long lost Northern thegns, using her charms and honeyed tongue to make acquaintances with influential merchants and those nobles that were less likely to call her out on her ruse. They had decided for the northern cover since Jill was too pale to be of the Dhalmekian or Kanverian echelons of society and saying she was from Rosaria would paint a death note on her back. And the Iron Kingdom had no nobility, only their deranged patriarch and the women were barely treated better than the Bearers they got their hands on.
Reaching the unassuming door of the house, Clive send a small push through the aether, using the power from the Apodytery to do it and after one knock, Jill opened the door for him, ushering him inside and out of the rain, before moving to the back of the room again. The house was a single small building close to the outskirts of the city. Of course even being far away from the center of Oriflamme was more luxurious than the housings in some of Sanbreque's outlying towns. And Clive for sure would not complain since the Undying had chosen a house with two bedrooms, even if they sacrificed a separate kitchen for it. The doors to the bedrooms stood open to allow the warmth of the living room fireplace to spread in there for the night, while parchments and papers were spread over the floor, quills and inkwells strewn in between.
Clive loosened the coat from his back, before unfastening the straps of his various pieces of armor, setting them aside one after the other, his eyes wandering over the countless pieces of paper. "How many of those are your notes and how many are Joshua's?" he asked, unlacing the red leather jerkin and taking a deep breath of the warm air.
Jill smiled, before she danced through in between the mess on the floor on bare toes and threw her arms around Clive's shoulders, pressing a long kiss onto his lips, snuggling up to the whole length of him and he fell into her advances, tongues dancing and tasting, and Clive chuckled against her, when she moaned into his ministrations, his hands squeezing her rear, before lifting her up, so she could wrap her legs around his hips, allowing him to grind into her center.
And for a second, they could pretend, that they were nothing but a husband, returning to his most devoted wife. That they were just Clive and Jill and not the Princess of the North and the Lord Marquess of Rosaria... that they were not a woman and a Branded.
Kissing Jill one last time, he let her slip off his arms before setting her down onto her own feet, still holding her close and in his embrace, feeling her heartbeat against his chest. A heartbeat that seemed to fall in the rhythm of his own. "What news, my lady?" he finally breathed, fingertips digging softly into her back.
She released a long sigh, before she shook her head and Clive released her, allowing her to step away. "By the looks of it, getting you into the palace without making it a state affair will be impossible," she explained, picking up a note from one of the stacks. "No guest is allowed to bring their Bearer into the palace and from what he have gleaned, this is an order that was given personally by your mother. All Bearers that work in the palace have been handpicked by the head of staff and it's also a lot less Bearers than one would think. I did some inquiries and the amount of Bearers has been decreasing ever since your mother married the Emperor."
Clive frowned, but gladly accepted the mug of steaming tea that Jill pressed into his hands. He hadn't even noticed how cold they were, despite the fact that Ifrit usually made sure that Clive ran more than hot. A fact that Jill loved to tease him with, but also loved to take advantage of, since she was often freezing at night. "I can't fathom how she managed to gain influence that fast and that easily, especially with the fact how she came to Sanbreque," he remarked, sipping on the liquid, before indicating to Jill, that he needed more sugar. Sugar was a precious commodity in the more northern reaches of storm, but somehow the Undying had managed to procure them quite enough. Most likely because they knew of Joshua's more than sweet tooth.
"She also never seemed to have that much influence on the Archduke either," Jill remarked, dumping a spoon of sugar into his mug, then handing him the spoon.
"My father kept her mostly away from all decisions pertaining Rosaria and the way he governed it, despite the fact that she was... and still is, his cousin." Clive took a sip and then sighed softly.
Jill took up her own mug, swirling the contents around for a while. "The marriage between your parents was one of convenience, the only goal to produce the next Phoenix in the line of the ruling family of the duchy. But everything pertaining the politics was solely in the hand of your father."
"But my mother wanted the attention and the influence that came with having birthed the next heir to the throne," Clive continued the thought that Jill started. "But to what end? Why did she betray us?"
Sighing, Jill shrugged. "I guess as long as we can't ask her directly, that will stay a mystery for the ages," she said. "As for Sylvestre - when your mother met him, she was in her prime years and if they had the same ambitions, that alone is a dangerous combination. Egoism, megalomania and sex all mixed together can be quite a powerful drive and obviously it worked for the two of them."
"But what did she offer him after the failed invasion and the massacre at Phoenix Gate. The duchy was still standing and my father still alive and Joshua not in her hands?" Clive asked.
"Maybe she blackmailed him. Told him that she would expose him to the council of cardinals if he didn't held up his end of the bargain," Jill wondered. "Or he was really just as easy as this and was and still is under her spell."
"Or they both still hoped, that there was still a way to take my father out and fold the duchy into the empire, making her son the crown price of not only Sanbreque but Rosaria as well."
"And then, you appeared and revealed Ifrit, crushing all their hopes and plans." The smugness in Jill's voice was unmistakable and the smirk around her lips too wide to be hidden behind the rims of her cup.
Clive chuckled, because it was these moments, that showed that despite her noble upbringing and her education, there was still that girl in Jill, he had fallen in love with all these years ago. The memory of the girl, that had kept him alive in the darkest years of his existence. The troublemaker his mother had tried to suffocate in rules and lock in a golden cage.
"I think we can ponder my mother all day long and yet not find out, what madness was driving her to betray us like this," he finally said, drowning the rest of his tea. "But it's not getting us any closer to what we try to do. So, can you and Joshua actually get into the palace without me?"
She nodded. "We should, yes. We might not get official access to the quarters of the imperial family, but once we are in the castle itself, that shouldn't be a problem. Once we got rid off any guard or escort, we should be able to move freely and without interruption and if we get held up, we have enough of the Undying's sleeping draught here to take whoever tries to stop us out for the time being. What about you though?"
"There is a way in. It's not without risk, but since the front gate is barred I see no other way to do it."
Jill nodded. "Tell me about it."
Night had fallen over Oriflamme once again and with plans finalized, there was no reason to delay any longer what they had planned to do, the moment they had arrived in the capital of Sanbreque a week before. All three of them had known, that it would not be easy, but they had underestimated now many strings they had to pull to actually make it work. The fact that it was like this, only told them that the paranoia of the emperor and his esteemed second wife was far more pronounced than they had expected.
Clive pushed the thoughts to the side, rolling his shoulders underneath the shoulder armor of his imperial uniform. Since the last time he had worn it, he had considerably grown in shape, adding muscles to his previous malnourished form and even though the seamstress at Rosalith Castle had added to the uniform to accommodate him, there was only so much she was able to do, without actually making it new and that would have been way too obvious. Branded were not given new clothing and Clive had been no exception.
Slipping through the small alleys towards the Whitewyrm, Clive tried not to think too hard about his brother and Jill, who had donned their noble robes and were trying to enter the palace by the front gate, their normal clothes hidden underneath their voluminous outfits. It was a dangerous game they were playing and Clive just had to hope that neither had to use their Eikons, because that would for sure lead to a war.
Another turn and Clive's own destination came in sight. Underneath him a wide area opened towards a checkpoint that led deep into the mountain. The Glass Gate, where the shards mined from the Mothercrystal were loaded for transport towards the provinces and those with pockets deep enough to buy them under the table.
Clive stayed above the main gate for a few minutes, watching the bustling underneath him, remembering the rotations of the soldiers and comparing them to what he saw before his eyes right now. He had come here every day since his arrival, already knowing that the front gate of the palace would be barred to him. Anything else wouldn't have been logical. Clive had to admit though, that something felt wrong and it had felt that way already when he had began to scout out the area. The amount of soldiers was not fitting for the place they were stationed in. Too little of them and a lot of them looked as if they were barely old enough to be soldiers, when they took off their helmets in the short breaks between moving the cargo.
Something was more than wrong here.
But Clive had no time to think further on it and so he made his way forward, signing Torgal to stay at his side and close to him, until he reached the door that would lead him deeper into the mines underneath the the palace and Drake's Head. The small cavern he was walking in was nothing more but a maintenance shaft to store material and other things and to Clive's relief it was empty and unguarded, giving him the luxury to move on, without having to put the lives of innocent men and women on his consciousness, who did nothing else but serving their nation. Just like he did. A bigger cavern with a whole battalion forced him to rethink his strategy on the spot.
Clive had assumed that the mines would be guarded, but a whole battalion seemed to be a quite excessive show of force towards their workers in the depths, especially since there were guards on the Glass Gate itself as well. Clive had to admit that he, while he for sure had the means to take out the soldiers in one go, he didn't want to. The Empire had made him a murderer and a monster and he didn't want to return to that. Yes, he would kill them, if he had to, but if there was a way around, he would take it.
Letting his eyes run over the chamber, Clive soon found his way further in and calling on the Blessing of the Phoenix, he waited until the heads of all soldiers were turned in one direction, before throwing a fireball towards a bundle of dry wood that was kept there for the braziers. It lit up immediately and while the soldiers jumped up, running towards the fire, he reached out to the Firebird once again and shifted twice towards a wooden barrier that seemed more shoddy than anything else, jumping over it and then crouching behind it, heart racing in his chest. Torgal was like a shadow himself, his fur like a coat that kept him invisible against the walls of rough stone and soon the hound catapulted himself over the wooden planks without being noticed either. The soldiers were still screaming for water and for an explanation where the fire had come from in the first place, but Clive didn't wait for them to realize what had happened, didn't want them to realize that a man and a hound had breached their defenses.
Pushing forward he made it through the cavern ahead of him, staying in the shadows as good as possible, since the light of the braziers from the mine cart track on the other side of the cavern made him a sitting duck. There were soldiers on the tracks even there and he could hear the commands being shouted to some of the workers deeper down in the mines. The air was full with the smell of burning wood, fire and brimstone, but there was another taste in it as well. One that made Clive uneasy, even though he couldn't exactly put a finger on it as to why. The taste was acid on his tongue.
The shaft soon came to an end at another cavern and Clive frowned. The amount of soldiers station there was even more and unlike the battalion above them, they were tense and restless, moving around, sharpening weapons, swinging them just to stay in motion. A distraction would not work on them, and the fact that they hadn't seen him yet, was a miracle. The taste on his tongue was getting sharper by the minute, until it felt as if it was coating his whole mouth. And then he realized what it was and against his better judgement, he jumped down into the cave without thinking twice, a warning on his lips, but his voice got stuck in his throat.
Ifrit rose up and roared in warning, but it was too late.
Aether filled the chamber in a matter of mere moments, like a flood broke into a house that had withstanding it for a while and was now failing to hold back the forces. The soldiers screamed, before their voices were drowned by the aether, got mangled into incoherent moans and groans, words no longer forming when they were engulfed by the blue death. Clive felt the aether wash over him, could taste it, smell it and feel it, but it would not do to him, what it did to these soldiers.
"They all gone akashic," Clive whispered, watching everything unfold before his very eyes in just a few moments. There was nothing saving these soldiers now, for their minds had been wiped by the aether, poisoned and nothing remained but anger and hatred and the wish to kill and destroy. There was only one thing left for them now and that was the sweet release of death. Stepping forward, Clive took a deep breath and this time he allowed the blinding eternity to fill him, wings spreading wide at his back when he granted the aether to pull all the akashic soldiers to him. They roared against it, swinging their swords and axes in blind rage, yet never reaching him, while Clive gathered the power to accumulate underneath his wings. And then he let it all go, the aether burning the soldiers into nothingness, leaving no trace behind, but their weapons clattering to the ground.
For another long moment, Clive held on, but then he let the aether go to disperse and his feet returned to the ground. "An aetherflood?" he whispered to himself, crouching down and letting his gloved hands run over the rough stone. "That would for sure be a reason to up the stakes and risk an invasion of Rosaria and the Dominon." If Sanbreque lost her own Mothercrystal, because the floods made it impossible to farm from it, the livelihood of the Empire and her citizens were on the line. Each nation depended on these crystals and while Rosaria had learned to be less dependent, Clive could not deny that even they were still using them. Using the shards that they had mined all these years ago before Drake's Breath had fallen to the Iron Kingdom and those that they had bought from the other nations to sometimes painful prices.
But Clive wouldn't dwell on it, couldn't dwell on it, because if Joshua and Jill had made it into the castle, they were waiting for him and he was running out of time. Torgal seemed to be of the same mind, for he brushed his wet nose along Clive's cheek, ripping him of his musings. "Let's go, Torgal," he whispered softly. "There is nothing we can do here anymore."
There was indeed nothing he could do anymore, since the moment a creature was poisoned by the aether, there was no turning back. No potion, no antidote, no amount of magic would undo the damage the aether caused. Dominants were immune to it and Bearers more resistant, but normal humans and animals succumbed to it in a matter of moments without warning. It was a horrible way to go out, and Clive shook his head, when he stepped into the elevator that was normally used to transport the shards from the deeper mine shafts to the surface.
Yet, the aether became thicker and denser with every moment he descended deeper, until it was oppressive and suffocating, closing around his throat like a rope. He knew it was just a matter of his own perception and suddenly he looked down to Torgal, afraid that his trusty companion would turn as well, but the hound just wagged his tail, golden eyes as right and awake and normal as always. Clive allowed a weak smile to pass over his lips, and he ran his hands through the dogs soft fur. "How come you are not turning, boy?" he whispered softly. "Not that I complain, quite the opposite."
Torgal just replied with a loud bark, but that turned into a snarl, when the elevator stopped at the bottom of the shaft and then revealed the full extent of what had happened. The aether was visible in shimmering blue wafts in the air that for one moment, Clive was sure he could pick it out from there and it would be solid in his hands, yet it slipped through his fingers, dancing like mist in the morning sun. It was as eerie as it was unsettling, and yet it had a dangerous beauty to it.
The moaning and groaning echoed from further in the mines and Clive could only hold his breath for a moment. "The guards at the gates were never there to keep people from getting in," he whispered softly to himself, moving as soundlessly as possible deeper into the caves. "They were there to keep the akashic from getting out. Guard and work duty are death sentences in this place, but it doesn't seem as if Sylvestre cares about that."
There was no need for stealth and secrecy anymore and Clive pushed forward with the Phoenix underneath his hands, the flames now bringing release to those, who could no longer be saved otherwise. But it wouldn't stop there, since an aetherflood could not be detained, it would spread further and further, swallowing everything in it's wake, no matter if it was building, men, animal or plant. Oriflamme would fall. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but the city's days were numbered. Sanbreque would loose her capital and if Sylvestre knew that, his aggressive expansion made more sense than ever before. Yet, it did not justify it and the bloodshed and chaos it would wreak over the whole of the Twins.
With the last of the akashic miners fading away in aetherial petals, Clive continued his way with his heart in his throat. He had expected having to fight and kill some of the soldiers and miners on his way to the inner sanctum, but he had not expected this. There was relief that he didn't have to kill them himself, that he didn't have to spill their blood on his own, but releasing them from their misery and the living death they were subjected to was not something he was happy to do either. No one deserved a death like this and then being reduced to a shell of themselves.
A metal gate was installed at the end of the cavern and Clive knew that he was on the right track. After all, the knowledge about this passage all came from a very drunken soldier he had met, after he had been thrown out of Oriflamme's brothel because he had been too drunk for the mistress of the establishment. The man had spoken about an attempt of some stranger to destroy the Mothercrystal a few years prior and that Bahamut had caught him in the act and blasted a hole into the wall and the mines in the attempt to get to him. Needless to say, the Warden of Light failed and left Clive with an easy passage to the inner sanctum. Yet, he knew of soldiers that had been assigned to the Glass Gate, who had spoken of a guardian, but no one had ever set eyes on it. It could be a myth, or it could become Clive's biggest problem.
Using Bahamut's power, Clive blasted the gate out of it's sockets and then decided to run ahead in case he did manage to bring down the mountain on himself. The passage was surprisingly lengthy, and with each and every step he came closer to the cold, blue light that seemed to await him at the end of it and when the cavern opened in front of him, Clive held his breath for a moment. The sight that awaited him was breathtaking. The Apodytery had been impressive in itself, the Fallen Ruins intricate and withstanding the flow of time, yet this was impressive in a different way.
The center of the Mothercrystal and the heart of Drake's Head was right there in front of him, massive and imposing and even though Clive had seen the Mothercrystal always from the distance and from the outside, he had never thought, that he would ever get so close to it's heart. A bannister prevented anyone foolish enough to go over the edge, but Clive leaned against it and took a deep breath, aether infusing his lungs, but he accepted it for now, since he didn't plan to be there long. Winded staircases were build along the side of the cavern, going towards the impressive structure that was centered around the heart. No one but the priests of Greagor, the Dominant of Bahamut and the members of the imperial family and the guards were allowed in the Inner Sanctum, but Clive didn't care about that. It was just his way through, and he would not be distracted any longer.
Taking the way down, Clive kept his ears open for any sound aside from his own footsteps but it was silent aside from the far away sound of waterfalls that surrounded the heart. Water that was now tainted with aether and just as poisonous as the air around Clive. The adventurous part of Clive would have loved to stay a bit longer, to let his fingers run over the marble underneath his gloves, to just dare it and walk towards the heart to see how one had to imagine this, the heart a whole mountain of crystal was situated on.
It was when he stepped onto the bridge that spanned the wide abyss that he heard a distant roar and Clive stopped in his steps. It was a sound that was familiar to him, but only from far away, since the dragoons rarely brought their pets into battle for real, they preferred to ruin their Bearer-units first.
"Let's go, Torgal," Clive whispered softly.
Two massive gates separated the Inner Sanctum from the palace above it and Clive had to admit, that while it was an impressive sight it was also a proof the empires madness to glory. Even the few places of worship that Rosaria had were much smaller in size, but Clive had never been at Drake's Breath, since it had fallen to the Iron Kingdom long before his birth. They had planned on taking it back, but then his mother had betrayed them all.
Focusing his thoughts and his rage, Clive reached out to the handles on the gates, pulling them open with a growl. The metal screamed underneath the movement, barely being moved after all. Clive had never cared for the religious practices of the Holy Empire, even though he had to kill in the name of their bloodthirsty little goddess. Yet, he knew one thing and that was the fact, that ceremonies in the Inner Sanctum were far and few in between, sometimes decades between them.
The hallway behind the gates was unlit and the moment the gates fell closed, Clive and Torgal were thrown into an impenetrable darkness. From now on, they had to be careful, since the gates held the aether at bay. Every opponent now was flesh and blood... and a weight on Clive's consciousness, if he had to take them down.
Reaching out to Phoenix once more, Clive allowed a fireball coming to life above his head, lighting the hallway and the foot of the staircase he was standing at. Torgal whined softly, and pressed close to Clive for a moment, his eyes still glowing golden in the light of the fire and not the akashic blue he had been afraid to see all the time. Letting his gloved fingers run through Torgal's fur, Clive grounded himself for the moment, then pressed onward, his hand twitching to reach out to the sword at his back.
The stairs seemed to be endless, until the light began to reflect on another massive gate ahead and by then, Clive had lost count of how many steps he had taken to reach the end. Letting go of the light, Clive pressed his ear to the gate, hoping against hope that it was not as massive as the one at the bottom but all he could hear was his own breathing, the rush of his pulse and his rapidly beating heart in his chest. And so, Clive pulled the gate open at the handles, allowing Torgal to slip through first and warn him of any potential dangers. But the hound was only whining in confirmation that there was nothing in the next room but them.
Unlike the hallway, the room was lit with crystals on the walls and idols of Great Greagor stood at both sides of the gate, the white marble a stark contrast against dark one that was used on the walls. The floor was marble as well, but the stones cut and put down in the form of Sanbreque's banner. Clive pulled the gates closed again and once again listened just in case he had set someone off. But the silence was defeaning and so he kept moving and moving.
The floor plans they had found of the castle had been old and in the end, they had relied more and more on the information, they had managed to pry out of drunken soldiers and some even more drunken noblemen. The fact that Joshua had managed to find a priest of the church of Great Greagor had been a small miracle and the fact that the gladly spilled the beans over the hallways that led to the lower sections of the castle. Of course they still had to be careful about it, but improvising was one thing that Clive had learned more than well in the years as imperial assassin.
Another flight of stairs led him up further and this time he knew that he had to be careful, for the moment he pulled the gates open, he heard the shuffling of feet and low spoken voices that echoed on wide halls and high ceilings. A quick look confirmed the assumption and Clive waited until he saw the hems of the robes disappear around the corner. The hallway was wide and to his dismay blank of any sort of decorations he could have used as a cover, so it was now or never. Trying to remember the layout of the floor he knew that there was supposed to be a small chamber on one of the sides that led to the servant quarters and wider staircase that brought him to guest chambers on the next floor. If he could get there without being seen, he would be able to find the quarter, they had agreed on as a meeting point and he would either wait there or reunite with Jill and Joshua there.
Another minute passed them by and Clive made his move, slipping up the stairs like a shadow in the night and Torgal followed him, claws scratching over the polished marble, slipping as if he was trying to move on ice. If the situation wouldn't have been so dire, Clive maybe would have allowed himself a grin, but so he just grabbed a handful of the dog’s fur and steadied him, until they had reached the stairs. Torgal gave him a grateful growl and when they reached the top of the steps, he could already see the door of the room being open by a hair and a piece of parchment was stuck in the frame.
They had made it.
Clive slipped forward, knocked on the door with the sign they had agreed on and Joshua opened the door just wide enough to let him and Torgal inside. Before Clive could even ask them, how it had gone, a weight slammed into his body and soft lips were pressed on his, a tongue sweeping over them, demanding to be danced with and for a moment, Clive obliged her, pulling Jill closer to himself, returning the kiss as hard as he could. But they both knew, that they were on borrowed time and so, they both stepped back in the same moment, catching their breath.
"Did everything go according to plan?" Clive asked and Jill nodded.
"We entered with the invitation we had snatched from Lord Garros and then took down the guard and made it here."
"The guard?"
"Sleeping soundly, tied like a package in the basement. It'll take a while until they find them," Joshua replied. "What about you?"
"No incident but one and this one changes the game," Clive growled and so he told them about the aetherflood, about the workers and guards that had turned akashic, and even though Joshua was more than eager to explore the depths himself, he had enough sense for the danger they were in. Maybe they could return later to determine, how much time the city had, but right now getting to Dion was the most important thing.
Joshua and Jill had already thrown off their nobles clothes and were back in their traveling gear, that allowed them easier movement and better range, should it really come to a scuffle. Nodding, Clive turned to the door. "Let's get moving," he growled, rubbing his gloved fingers over his brand. "I don't want to be here longer than necessary. While I do have questions, that I would like to ask mother, I'd rather not cross paths with her at this point."
"That makes two of us," Jill snarled.
"Make it three," Joshua added with a raised brow. "We need answer, but not right now. These answers can wait."
Moving as a trio with a hound was a lot more obvious than moving alone, but it was also a lot more secure, since they could protect each others backs and guards were taken down a lot faster and easier. Some not exactly soundless, but all in all they moved through the Whitewyrm with a lot less resistance than they had expected. Of course said resistance began to increase the closer they came to the quarters of the imperial family and they had to be far more careful with their advance, since the guards could no longer be easily stashed in rooms.
They had nearly made it to Dion's room, when they had to retreat faster than they wanted, realizing that the door was guarded by two imperial soldiers, their linens dyed black, golden embellishments over their armor and fabrics. They wore the armor of dragoons, but Clive had never seen dragoons wearing this color.
"This is going to be a problem," Clive remarked with a frown, pulling back around the corner. "I can't shift the whole way, which means they have a warning and that means lethal force. Exactly what we want to avoid."
"I can freeze them, but they will thaw in time and if we try to move them..."
Clive held up a hand. "I can imagine."
"They would still have a warning if we both shift, but at least it would be less a warning, than if it was only one of us," Joshua suggested, throwing a quick look around the corner himself. "Unfortunately we will have to take them into the quarters with us then, because I see no way get them out of sight, and we can't let them lying around in the hallway."
Taking a deep breath, Clive reached out to the Phoenix and he felt Joshua pull on it as well. There was no denying that Dion would feel the shift in the aether, but there was no other way and so Clive shifted once, regained his footing and shifted again, reaching the soldier and Joshua was at his heels. Using his whole weight, Clive crashed the man into the wall behind him, before he leaned against him, forearm against the exposed neck, cutting the supply of air. The soldier scrambled, tried to break free, but a chilling cold engulfed them all, not freezing but cold enough to sap them of their strength, and finally both crumbled into heaps on the floor and Joshua stepped back with a heaving sigh. "That was... more exhausting, than I thought," he wheezed, while Clive was already at the door.
"We can discuss your lacking stamina when we are back in Rosaria," he growled, gloved fingers wound around the handle of the door. Hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword, he pushed the handle and stepped inside. The room he entered was just a small entrance hall and taking the chance, Clive dragged the soldiers inside, Joshua pushing and pulling, while Jill and Torgal had an eye on the hallway before following in. For a moment they just stayed there and listened. Soft voices came from the room on their left, but there was something in the air, that made Clive uneasy. It was a strange smell, a smell he was familiar with. It was faint, but he could even smell it above the amount of incense that permeated the air.
"What's wrong?" Jill asked, her hand on his arm, squeezing softly.
"Can you smell that?" Clive asked with a frown.
"You mean that horrid incense that reminds me so much of the stuff mother used to cover up the smell of the chocobos, after she had to use the carriage to go to town?" Joshua asked.
It was in that moment, that things fell into place for Clive and all he could do was throw himself against the door, that he knew would lead him to Dion. The scent underneath the incense had burned itself into Clive's mind, and yet he had not recognized it right away, diluted as it was underneath the thick smell of the other herbs.
Wyverntail-extract.
For a moment, everything froze as if Jill had thrown another ice spell into the room. Dion had a cup of tea in his hand, yet he had stopped in the middle of bringing it to his lips. A young man was sitting next to him, cup in hand as well, equally petrified.
The smell of the incense was thick and suffocating in the room, but the smell of the Wyverntail was equally stronger now too and it was right in front of him. They had mixed it into the tea... Clive's reaction was pure instinct and he only hoped, that Jill knew what he needed, when he called out to her, eyes wide.
And she did, for her spell of ice covered the whole room freezing the tea in the cups and the pot, without freezing Dion and his companion. And then the moment was over and both of them jumped from their seats, dropping their cups and Clive could feel Dion pull on the aether and his visitor looking for anything to use as a weapon, but Clive lifted both of his hands, held them far away to show them both, that he meant no harm - that neither of them actually meant harm.
"Prince Dion! We are not here to hurt you," Clive said, hoping against hope that they would trust his words.
The silence was deafening, Dion still pulling on the aether and in that moment, Joshua stepped forward, hands raised as well. "Prince Dion, please," he said soothingly. "We are here to talk."
It was Dion's visitor, who know rose to his full height. "You come here to talk, after what you've done to His Highness?" he snarled and for a moment Clive had the assumption, that snarling was normally not something this man did often. It did not fit to his features and his whole demeanor.
Letting his hands fall with a sigh, Clive made a step forward, pulling apart the shards of the cup, that had broken apart, when it hit the table. "No, we came here not only to talk, but also to save the life of your prince and yours," he explained, before he made another step back. "Look closely at the tea you were about to drink, push it around with the care. You will notice that the heavy incense in the room is numbing your sense of smell, but you should be able to smell it up close."
Both men just stared at him, but then Clive felt Dion stop pulling in the aether and he realized in that moment, that the intake had become more even. On the battlefield, the prince had held onto the aether, but it had slipped through his grasp, breaking apart before he had managed to prime. Clive wasn't entirely sure, but this time it felt was if he would have been able to cast a spell and maybe even semi-prime. He had recovered, but how far for real?
The prince stepped forward, but instead of picking up a shard, he took one of the spoons and did as Clive had asked, pulling apart the slowly melting chunks of frozen tea. "What are these black spots?" he asked with a frown. "They seem to be somehow oily." He sniffed a bit, then looked up. "What is that smell?"
Clive sighed. "That, Your Highness, is Wyvertail-extract. The same poison that is mixed into the branding ink," Clive remarked, tapping onto his own brand with his gloved fingers. "The smell is, how I know it. I don't remember much of my own branding, aside from pain, fear and the horrid smell of blood, ink and Wyverntail."
The eyes of the other man widened. “But Wyverntail…”
“… is deadly when ingested or when it gets into the blood,” Clive finished with a nod, before he straightened his back and then bowed before Dion, well knowing that he was safe despite the gesture, since Jill and Joshua would react and protect him, if anything was amiss. “Your Highness, what happened between us on the battlefield was never my intention, and I do apologize for the taking of Bahamut. That I have the ability to absorb Eikons was not something that I knew I had.”
“And yet, Shiva and Phoenix still feel whole from what I can sense on this distance,” Dion remarked, and his voice was cold.
Clive sighed, before he rose up to his full height again. “We assume that the only reason, I was able to take Bahamut, was the fact that you had exhausted yourself to the breaking point in the fights before, which fractured your aether, allowing Ifrit to claim it for his own. My brother and Lady Jill were never in a state, that would have allowed for this to happen.”
“Or you didn’t because they are your allies, your family,” Dion seethed and Clive could understand his anger and his hatred.
“Prince Dion, would it pacify you, if I told you, I would give up Shiva right here and now if it would help to prove Clive’s point?” Jill asked suddenly and Clive turned to her, eyes wide.
The silence was deafening for the moment and it began to stretch, until Dion released a sigh and the tension seemed to bleed away and he fell backwards into his chair, the poisoned tea still swimming on the table in front of him. “That won’t be necessary,” he sighed, staring at the golden liquid, that seemed to have a black and oily skin, before signing towards the other man. “This is Terence, my second in command and my closest confidant.”
Clive was about to make an additional comment, but bit back on it. It made so much sense to remove Dion and Terence from the commanding positions of the Dragoons, since that made it easier to implement new directions, especially when the new commanding generals were loyal to the empress. “Prince Dion, we aren’t here to mock you or the ordeal you are undergoing at the moment. We are here, because we want to help you and keep you save from whoever has set their eyes on you.”
“There is no need to sugarcoat it, Ifrit,” Dion replied, before leaning back in his seat. “The person, who ordered this attempt on my life is no one else but the Empress, my stepmother… your mother.”
“The damage that our mother wrought is not on Sanbreque alone, your Highness,” Joshua remarked softly. “Rosaria has suffered much through her treachery as well and especially my brother, whom she sold into your father’s slavery, marked him a Bearer and send him to the frontlines. And I don’t think I have to tell you, how the Empire is treating her branded soldiers.”
Another long silence followed, before Clive stepped forward. “And it’s not only the treachery in our ranks. Tell me, Prince Dion - do you trust your father?”
“My trust in the emperor is absolute.”
“Yet, it shouldn’t be,” Terence remarked and with suddenly all eyes were on him, while his eyes were solely on Dion. “My Prince, they have a point. The empress would have never made it this far, without your father’s support in all matters. If the plan to invade Rosaria was hers, then your father could have opposed it and warned the Archduke and yet he went through with it, and even granted her asylum here before marrying her, and…” Terence was looking for words.
“… making another son with her?” Clive ended the sentence and Terence nodded. “A son that is now next in line of the throne instead of you, your Highness.”
“Are you trying to make me revolt against my father?” Dion asked, his eyes full of anger, but Clive just shook his head again.
“No, I want to save you, to keep you alive since it is my fault that you are in this position in the first place,” Clive replied. “But I can’t do that, when you refuse to see that the danger is closer to you than you think. Prince Dion, what did your father tell you, as to why he wanted to invade Rosaria? It was important enough for him after all, that he had my unit pulled from the Strait of Autha all the way back to the Rosarian border.”
It was Terence, who answered in the end, Dion’s jaw tight and his teeth grinding against each other. “His Radiance said, that Great Greagor had spoken to him, that Rosaria had to be cleansed of the madness, that had taken hold of the ruling family and that the Phoenix had to be saved to rise anew under the Light of Bahamut.”
Clive looked at Dion, the way the prince’s fingers were white from how tight he had pressed them together, the lines of anger marring his face and the fury in the depth of his honey-colored eyes. “You didn’t believe him?”
Dion snorted. “Of course not. It was another unprovoked act of war against our neighbor. A neighbor that had never shown us anything else but friendship, until our assault on Phoenix Gate.”
“Your Highness, when did your father give the order to attack us, if I may ask?” Joshua wondered. “And when was the last time, you set foot into the Inner Sanctum of Drake’s Head.”
Dion’s eyes bore into those of Joshua, scrutinizing him, wondering, asking questions without using words. “We marched soon after he gave me the order. Our troops were set in motion the same day, but I haven’t been at the Inner Sanctum, since that man we still couldn’t identify infiltrated the halls some years back.”
“Then you will find it much changed,” Clive replied. “The Inner Sanctum and the mines have fallen to an aetherflood, all the guards and workers turned akashic and the aether is spreading rapidly. Mining for Crystals is no longer possible, since the aether is so dense, that even the Bearers did succumb to it.”
“How do you know of this?” Terence asked and even though his voice was even, his eyes belied his calm demeanor, the shock easily to read in them.
Tapping onto his brand, Clive shrugged. “You know my mother’s stance in regards to Bearers,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I can’t exactly walk through the front door with this and so I took a detour through the mines and the sanctum.”
“If my father knew about the floods…”
“… then he tries to gain land and a new crystal for the Empire. Rosaria for the land and the fields, and Twinside for the Mothercrystal. It’s a war of conquest,” Terence agreed.
Joshua nodded. “The nations of storm have waged wars for the Mothercrystals and their blessing since the beginning of time. But that doesn’t make it right, especially now that the Blight is closing in on us. We should concentrate on finding a way out of this dilemma together, instead of hoarding the few resources we still have.”
“Wise words, little brother,” Clive said with a soft smile, but suddenly Torgal raised his hackles and bared his fangs towards the door. Frowning, Clive signed them all to be quiet and even stop breathing and then he heard it. Heavy steps on marble and a curse fell from his lips. “Soldiers on the way here.”
Another long moment of silence, where Clive saw Dion look to Terence and then back again and then with a nod they seemed to have made a decision and Dion rose from his seat. “Drag the guards you took down into the room on the right. It’s just a small storage chamber, then I will have you four hide in the bedroom.There is much more I want to ask you and I think there is much more, I need to know if I want to uncover the truth.”
While the men pushed the still out cold soldiers in the other room, Jill used her ice to freeze the poisoned tea on the table and then threw the shards into a flowerpot, hoping that they wouldn’t wilt away while they were still in the room.The rest of the tea was dumped in another pot and the incense was doused with a bit of ice. They had barely managed to tidy up the room and flee into the bed chambers, when Clive heard the door open and fall closed. The footsteps were softer than before but still audible on the floor. It was only one set of footsteps and for a moment Clive held his breath, ear close to the door to listen, Joshua and Jill close to him to hear every word.
“My son… it is good to see you well. Sir Terence.”
“Your Radiance.” A shuffling of clothes.
Clive frowned and when he looked to Jill he saw it mirrored in her face. Sylvestre sounded hesitant upon seeing Dion, maybe even a bit surprised. Had he known about the plan to assassinate his own son and done nothing?
On the other hand, if someone had told Clive a few months back, that he would sit with his brother and his childhood crush, now his beloved soulmate in the prince’s bedchamber, eavesdropping on him and his father, he would have declared that person insane and delusional, and yet here they were, straining their ears to understand each and every word that was spoken.
“Is your recovery progressing in the assumed time?”
“Yes, your Radiance,” Dion answered, but there was a stiffness in it, that Clive hadn’t heard, when he had spoken to him. In fact, it reminded him more of the way Clive himself had spoken to his mother, but never his father and once more, he had to wonder to himself, if he and Dion were not way more similar than he had ever though. “With a few more days of training, I’m confident, that I will be able to cast spells and use my normal ability range again.”
“When will you be able to prime?”
Joshua’s mouth fell open and the outrage in his face was plain to see. The disdain in Sylvestre’s voice for his own son was like a knife cutting through butter, and he didn’t even try to hide it. Clive tried to remember if the man had already been this cruel at the Remembrance Ceremony all these years back, or if he had just shown the world the face he wanted them to see then. That of a kind ruler and a generous father, because right now, it was neither.
The silence began to stretch and Clive held his breath, part of him wanting to stand up and march into the room to protect Dion, protect him the same way he protected his little brother even though both were adults now.
"I'm not sure, your Radiance," Dion finally replied. "I have tried many times, but the aether disperses under my hand before I can. I can most likely semi-prime."
"Then this will have to do. Our troops have reached the Crystalline Dominion and are taking position to begin the siege. I want you and your second in command to return to your posts. Even if you are failing to prime, you can still support the troops with your normal abilities and your presence. Make ready. The Dragoons leave by sunrise."
Clive heard steps, but then Dion's voice halted them. "Your Radiance, if I maybe so bold as to ask a question. I have been in the Inner Sanctum in hopes that prayers to Great Greagor at this holy place would enlighten the path to finding myself, but what I found were the mines and the Sanctum flooded with aether."
Clive rose an eyebrow and looked at Joshua and Jill with a smile tugging at his lips. That had been more than well played, he had to give Dion credit for that.
"Drake's Head is no longer useful to us, so we will have to expand our own Dominion and claim fertile lands for those who can make the journey there."
“But what about Oriflamme and her citizens, your Radiance?" Dion asked and Clive could hear his voice shaking ever so softly. Would Sylvestre notice this as well? "Those without the means to leave their life behind will be stuck here and engulfed by the aether before long.”
A long sigh, like that of a parent scolding their misbehaving child for not understanding something or for having done something they shouldn't. Exasperation and impatience, along with annoyance and a hint of anger. But there was also an aloofness, that sent a shiver down Clive's spine. His father had never spoken in such a manner to anyone.
“For every citizen lost, a new one can be bred, for every house crumbling to dust, a new one can be build. As long as the heart of the empire survives, Sanbreque can be rebuild. Besides, we will soon have lands in the west as well, once the ducal family is erased from history. With our contacts in Rosalith and our assassins already on the way, it is only a matter of time, until we can move the conquering forces back to the western borders. Rosaria’s might is naught without her three eikons and once these are dealt with, she can be toppled easily, and not even an Eikon can stand against a poisoned dagger.”
"Your Radiance?" Dion asked and now his voice definitely shaking in disbelief.
"Make ready, Dion and don't disappoint me again." A sound of a door falling shut and then nothing but a deafening, suffocating silence.
Clive waited a few long draws of breath, before he carefully opened his own door and threw a quick look into the living quarters. Dion and Terence were alone again, eyes staring to the now closed door that led to the hallway, both in shock and eyes wide in horror. Clive had to admit, that there had been a few things, that had nearly made him rise and storm into the room, but it was the last thing the emperor had said, that he couldn't ban from his mind and with every moment, the fear wrapped itself around his spine like a poisonous snake.
Sylvestre had assassins on the way to Rosaria... he had traitors in their ranks... and his father was unprotected.
Turning to Jill and Joshua, he shook his head. "We have to get back to Rosalith or at least get a warning out. By the way Sylvestre sounded, he already has everything set in motion." Taking a deep breath, Clive turned to Dion, who was still standing in the same spot unmoving and he couldn't blame him. If losing Bahamut hadn't already cost him his footing, then this had for sure done the rest.
"My father was always a man of the people," Dion whispered softly. "He once taught me that the empire is naught without her citizens, that it is the people who make the Empire who she is and that we have to care for them, not demand of them that they care for us. And now, all he sees is his own gain and that of those few in his favor. What has happened to the man I admired once?"
Clive didn't have an answer to this question, but he did know, that there was a question he had to ask and they needed a decision fast, if he didn't want pay with his father's life for it. "Prince Dion, I'm afraid time is no longer the luxury that we had before we stepped into your quarters. You have a choice and it is up to you, what path you are choosing for yourself now. There has already been an attempt on your life and on that of Sir Terence. We can offer you a safe haven, if you do so wish..."
"And be no better than my father? Leaving behind the people we are supposed to care about to fend for themselves?" Dion asked and suddenly he straightened and then turned to Clive, a fire burning in the depth of his eyes, that hadn't been there before. "No Ifrit, even though I might not have known were to go when you entered these rooms, but I am damn sure now, what I have to do." He nodded to Terence and the soldier saluted, before he moved to the prince's dressing chamber, starting to pack clothes and other necessities. "I will not follow in the footsteps of my father and neglect those, that I was sworn to protect when I took up my lance. And if it means, protecting them from enemies that come from the inside of the Empire, then so shall be it. I will not falter and I will not fall. You may have taken Bahamut's strength from me, but I still hold his light in my heart and this light will be my guiding star. I will go to Twinside and lead my troops, but I will try to protect Twinside as well - from my father and from myself."
"Is this your final decision?" Joshua asked carefully, eyes not moving away from Dion's, holding the gaze with an iron strength.
"Yes, Phoenix, it is," Dion finally replied with a sharp nod. "These are my people and I will protect them. But, whatever aid I can offer Rosaria without bringing the ire of my father down onto both of us, will be yours."
"And the same goes for us," Jill reaffirmed with a soft but strong voice. "Whatever we can do, to help you protect the people, we will do."
"Thank you, Shiva. Knowing that I have your support and that of Rosaria is a relief in these uncertain times." The prince nodded, then turned around. "Since all of you are Dominants, you will have no trouble finding your way back out by the Glass Gate, since I doubt either of you wants to take the tour through the castle with the risk of crossing paths with your dearest mother. I will escort you there, while Terence sees to the preparations here."
"Thank you, Prince Dion," Clive said sincerely deeply bowing.
"Well, Ifrit, I can't say, I am happy about what has transpired on the battlefield, but it has opened my eyes to the truth, and that is something, I can never repay."
Notes:
I had played with the idea of adding a confrontation between Clive and Anabella, but I decided against it, cause I don't think I can write Anabella well and somehow felt as if adding her into the mix was needless at this point. It would have made things only come complicate than needed.
Dion though was a tricky thing to write, because we know from the game, that he does have a very good sense for right and wrong, but he is also very loyal to his father - loyal to a fault actually. He does have his grievances about marching into Rosaria but does it anyways, hiding behind the empty religious excuses and the orders his father gave him. This is a mirror to the empire marching into Twinside in the game, since Dion must haven know that it was wrong and followed the order still. He began to react after it became clear how deep Anabella’s and Ultima’s machinations ran and because he believed his father to be manipulated. Since neither of this is happening here so far, it’s far more difficult for Dion to accept, that his father is the driving force behind all this. Some might say now, that Anabella was the reason for all of this, but there must be some sort of greed in Sylvestre as well, otherwise he would have never agreed to her plan to invade Rosaria at all. He could have brought Anabella's treachery to Elwin's attention, but he didn't. This goes combined with the notes from the Ultimania, that Sylvestre's first wife, who was sickly and unable to have children died under mysterious circumstances, just like Dion's mother disappeared after Sylvestre had taken Dion and presented him as the son of himself and his wife at that time. I think there was a ground-villainy in Sylvestre and when he met Anabella it was just like two peas in a pod unfortunately.
Aside from this: If you remember the erratic behavior of the empire while the siege a few chapters back, this can actually be attributed to that. Without his father breathing into his neck at the frontlines, Dion tried to keep bloodshed and conflict to a minimum, in hopes of finding a better solution, but I’m sure that even Dion has some hardliner generals in his lines, who want to rise the ranks and I wouldn’t put it past those to blackmail him, until he gets a direct missive from his father to finally attack. And now he’s caught between following that order and mutiny.
And yes to the point also, that Sylvestre knew exactly what Anabella had planned and was prepared to find his son dead, but when Dion was still alive, he had to think fast and the easiest way to get Dion killed, is sending him to the front in his still fragile state.
Getting that all in a line and make it halfway plausible was a pain in the ass.
Chapter 19: Onward
Chapter Text
The way back through the Inner Sanctum felt endlessly long for Clive, and his heart was hammering against his chest, while his mind was racing. As promised, Dion had accompanied them to the gate that open up to the Inner Sanctum, where he observed the aetherfood for himself, while Clive led Jill and Joshua up the stairs to the hole in the cavern, that would lead them back into the mines. They ran up the staircase as fast as they could, Torgal ahead of them in case Clive had missed some akashic on his was down, but soon enough they had reached the elevator that brought them higher and higher.
And then they had stepped into the outside, the sunrise coloring the horizon in blood and gold and all Clive could do was start running. They had a stolas back at their hiding place, but would it be enough to warn his father, Lord Murdoch and the Shields? Especially, did these assassins work the way the Bastards did, or were they more mercenaries who didn't care about the damage they wrought, as long as their intended target was among the casualties.
"Once the stolas is on its way, we need chocobos to get out the city," Joshua panted behind him, barely able to keep up with Clive and Jill and the punishing pace they set, while they pushed and forced themselves through the citizens that were up in the morning already, trying to get to the markets. But neither of them cared about the screams of protest and outrage they left behind. "If we can reach the Royal Meadows I can prime..."
"And warn the whole garrison that the Phoenix has been in Oriflamme or damn close to it?" Clive barked. "As much as I hate to even think about you priming, we have to wait until Northreach. You can try to take off around Greagor's Weep. The markets are in that direction, but the attention won't be nearly as massive as it would be close to the capital. You will fly until the Rosarian border. There we will land and the both of you will cast protective shells around each other and Torgal and Ifrit will bring us the rest of the way and there is no discussing this."
Joshua pressed his lips into a fine, bloodless line, which was a stark contrast to the red head he was sporting, that would have made the feathers of his Eikon look pale in comparison.
"I can fly too, you know," Jill remarked, but Clive shook his head.
"One of us has to be really rested once we arrive in Rosalith, cause we can't say what is expecting us. We might need one primed Eikon to limit the damage and you have the most experience and control over yours. Joshua and I only fought in short skirmishes, but you..." Clive hated that he had to say it, hated that he had to remember her of this horrid part of her past and he wished, he could just stop his frantic run and turn around to her, take her into his arms and kiss her as an apology, that he had to make her go through this again and again. But he couldn't, since every second they were in Oriflamme was a second too much.
Jill shook her head. "I know and even though I hate your reasoning, it's not without substance."
Another sharp turn around the corner and the house came into view. They stormed inside and while Joshua took the owl from it's perch, holding his hand over the crystal on it's forehead, Jill held her hand out for whatever piece of clothing Clive was ripping off his body, to change into his other set of clothes, unceremoniously stuffing the imperial uniform into a bag he slung over his shoulder. Trusting in the fact, that the Undying would take care of the house, Clive allowed Joshua to lead the way to the safe house that the Undying were normally using and getting three chocobos from their stables, they began the next track on their journey, racing the birds out of the capital and onto the open fields of the Royal Meadows.
Clive could only hope and pray, that they were still fast enough, that they weren't too late, because there was no doubt in his mind about one thing. If the empire killed his father, then Dion would not have an Empire to return to, when Clive was done. He would raze Sanbreque of the map and would grind Oriflamme into the dirt. Yes, it was petty and seeking revenge would only lead to more and more bloodshed, but in this very moment, Clive wouldn’t care.
It was a thought that frightened him and chilled him to the bone.
Bending deeper into the neck of his chocobo he send another prayer of Metia, the Founder and whatever deity was listening, that they were fast enough. They drove the chocobos through Northreach in a frenzy, people jumping out of their way and cursing after them, but neither cared.
They reached the shores of the small lake not soon after, but the afternoon sun was already burning at the horizon, taunting them with the promise of a blood red dawn.
Clive still hated the fact that Joshua had to prime to get them all back, but there was no more time to argue and he wouldn’t. Joshua had made up his mind and he had no better alternative, and so he let his chocobo walk off with the other two, stepping back with Jill to give his little brother enough room.
Joshua began to pull on the aether with rage and fury, anger and resentment, setting it alight like a flame did oil, and Clive could feel it burning underneath his fingertips. And yet, in between there was also remorse and sorrow, worry and fear. Remorse that he hadn’t been able to do more for Dion, since Clive knew that Joshua and the prince had become fast friends at the Remembrance Ceremony, fooling around together, whenever their parents and chaperones hadn’t looked. Anabella had been furious, blaming Clive for having a bad influence onto his brother and for a moment Clive wondered, when his mother had betrayed his father not only in terms of his leadership but also his bed and he didn’t put it past her, that both had taken off then - after all the ceremony had been held at Whitwyrm castle. A castle that Clive knew now, had way too many doors that led to way too many bedrooms.
He shook his head, forcing his concentration back on Joshua, swallowing down the bitter taste that came with every thought about his mother. One day, he would find out what madness had driven her to do all this, but not today.
Not turning his eyes away, when the flames engulfed his brother, he would never be not amazed by the size of the individual Eikons and the way they embodied the element they belonged to. The translucent red and green fathers, the soft heat radiating off his brother, that was warm and soothing, nothing like the brutal inferno that Ifrit was housing. Pulling on his own aether, Clive unfurled the four wings at his back, before he slung his arm around Jill, and brought her up onto the Firebirds back, then repeating the same with Torgal, before all three of them buried themselves deep into the feathers and held onto them for dear life.
The Phoenix spread his wings wide, before he released a shrill cry into the cooling air and then he rose into no the sky. If there were screams of fear in Northreach, they never heard them and in that very moment, Clive also didn't care. For that one moment, when the Phoenix brought all of them high into the sky, Clive was overwhelmed by the sight. He had never seen the sunset like this, and it was a humbling sight.
Another shrill cry of the Phoenix into the blood red evening. "If I'll push it, we might be at the border by tomorrow morning, but I don't know if I can hold the prime for that long."
Clive shook is head, well aware that Joshua couldn't see him. "The moment you feel as if you can't take it anymore, look for a place where we can land and we'll switch," he called. "I will not risk the curse on you, when I can bear the weight just as well."
"I'm still here as well," Jill called. "Together we can do it and we will! Rosaria will not fall."
The sunrise had the color of fire, when the Phoenix landed on the first large field that would allow his size. To save strength and to not risk the curse, they had indeed switched in the night, Clive taking over from his brother and with Joshua and Jill save in protective bubbles, Ifrit had raced through Sanbreque, but Clive had tried to stay as far as possible away from any settlements, since they really didn't need that sort of attention. Shiva had covered another part of their journey, holding the brothers and the hound in her hands, just as Ifrit had held her and Joshua in his claws.
They had made better pace than they had expected and with Rosalith in sight, they had all foregone the idea of landing inside of the bailey. It would have been nothing short of impressive, but also the most obvious return and largest warning to those that the empire had sent to take the ducal like out.
Clive had tried to make sense of the order on their whole way back, but he couldn't see it. He could understand Sylvestre's part in this to a certain degree, but what did his mother gain from this?
Shaking his head free they ran down the fields ahead of them, and soon they had reached the city gates, forcing the guards to stay on their post and not sending a runner to the castle. Since the Empire had infiltrated their ranks already once, they couldn't risk any move at all, cause they couldn’t rule out, that the empire hadn't done the same again. Clive was sure, that his father and especially the Lord Commander did have more than an eye on every application for their armed forces now, but one simply couldn't be entirely sure about anything either, and especially not as long as the nobles that had once supported his mother were still in Rosalith and still had influence.
The streets were not entirely awake yet, but a few people were already going about their day, yet the three Dominats didn't care and couldn't. They had to reach the castle and for a moment it seemed as if the road was getting longer and longer, while the castle was slipping away from them and the fear clawed into Clive's heart like a monster, tearing at it and he knew that if someone managed to rip it out, rip his father out of his life, he would cease to exist and only Ifrit would remain. Ifrit and the inferno of rage and revenge.
The gates came in sight, still closed and Clive didn't care that they woudn't be opened in time for him, even if the shields were already widely throwing their arms around to give the order to unlock them. Reaching into the aether, Clive unfurled his wings again and with his arm around Jill's waist he pushed them both off the ground and on top of the fortresses surrounding walls. Joshua followed the moment after, Phoenix wings spread wide in his semi-prime.
"Joshua, get to the barracks and rouse the shields. Full assembly in the bailey and an attendance check. Jill and I make for the castle and look for father," Clive growled, and more words weren't needed. Joshua raced down the stairs to the right, while Clive and Jill threw their packs to the side and made their way through the bailey to the inner courtyard. The maingate was still closed and protected but the moment they reached the side entrance, Clive felt his heart jump into his throat. The gate had been broken out of the hinges and set back only so, that it looked as if it was still inside the wall.
Jill saw it as well and in that moment there was no hesitation anymore. With one kick, Clive had the gate down on the ground and was running towards the double doors that would lead him inside, but he would not take that way. There was no time for it and for the first time, Clive was glad that this four-armed whatever had forced their powers onto him, because he had never thought to be so grateful for a set of wings that would carrying him up on the balcony above the gates.
"Jill!" he barked. "Take the front, I'll go up and over!"
She only nodded and Clive pulled on the burning inside him, the fury and the anger and Ifrit jumped forward without a doubt. Lava, rock and fire burned through his veins, the semi-prime building an armor around his arms and legs and with wings of white fire, he catapulted himself up, before releasing them on top of the balcony, dropping down on the marble. Three steps and he was at the bannister on the other side, eyes sweeping over the battle underneath and his blood ran cold.
He had seen this unit before, their clothes a strange mix of imperial armor and mercenaries-garb. A ruse that he knew was to hide their true origins, so they could not be traced back to Empire but were recognizable to those who knew they existed, the same marker of identification on their clothing that his own imperial armor still had as well. He had never known though that the group was this big.
At least twenty men armed to the teeth were in the throne room and against them stood his father with his sword, the Lord Commander in a puddle of blood behind him on the floor and a man, Clive had never seen before. Fine leathers in purple and grey, two swords at his side and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He saw the man's fingers clench and release, flex and straighten and he felt him pull on aether.
Clive only reacted. He was over the bannister in the next moment, landing behind the group. He had to give them the credit they deserved, since they turned around right away, realizing that their biggest problem was that very angry semi-primed Dominant now and not what was standing at the throne but in that moment it was already to late.
Wings of red feathers spread wide at Clive's back and they lifted him off the ground, before the fire began to gather underneath them and Clive curled them around himself, gathering the flames, holding them, infusing them since they seemed to come alive underneath his hands, Ifrit's inferno adding to the power of the Phoenix...
... and then he released the wings wide, a wave of fire rolling from the back of the throne room through the entire hall, burning everything in it's wake, heating up the air into a storm of fire and death and the men couldn't even scream before they were turned to ash and even the ash was pulverized so nothing remained. The wave dispersed right at the throne, nothing but embers and specks of flames when it reached the stairs leading up to it.
But Clive still felt the pull on the aether, felt it clearly, couldn't trust it, couldn't identify it and the Phoenix was ready, shifting him forward in the next moment, sword clear of it's sheath, another shift and the blade up...
"Clive, hold it!"
The voice of his father was echoing through the throne room and even in the shift, Clive heard it, registered it and against his own judgement, against the voice that told him to reach out and tackle the stranger to the floor, to rip...
Dropping his semi-prime midshift, Clive came to a stop right in front of his father, chest heaving and breath coming in short gasps, the fire still cursing through his veins. His fingers cramped around the hilt of his sword before he turned around, gates now flung wide open and Jill underneath the balcony, ice flowing from her fingertips to cool the air he had heated up until it had been unbreathable.
"Get Joshua!" he called. "And be quick on your feet, my lady!"
She nodded and was gone in the next moment, her steps disappearing fast, while Clive was rummaging through his packs, before he pulled out a potion. The pull on the aether had lessened, but Clive still held his hand on his own, while he sheathed his sword, went onto his knees and set the vial to the Lord Commanders lips. The potion wouldn't be able to heal everything, but it would take the edge of the injury until Jill had managed to fetch his brother.
The stranger had taken a step down from the throne, but he was still close, his stance now relaxed, while he drew another long pull from his cigarette. It smelled like herbs and Clive frowned again. Nothing in this room made sense, aside from the unit he had just eradicated all on his own. The Lord Commander hissed, when the potion began it's work and Clive allowed himself a small sigh of relief, but before he could stand up and ask the man, who he was, Joshua burst into the throne room with long strides and nearly threw himself next to Lord Murdoch, the healing flames of the Phoenix already burning underneath his palms and even though Murdoch did try to protest, Joshua just slapped his hands away until he was done and heaved a sigh of relief.
For a moment the silence in the room was deafening, only interrupted by the shuffling and rustling of clothes when Clive helped his father pulling the Lord Commander carefully back on his feet. Jill had returned with Joshua, just like Torgal who was now unabashedly sniffing the stranger up and down, ears perked and forward.
Clive released a long sigh and then shook his head, before he turned around once. "That was way too close," he remarked. "Fuck me, that could have gone wrong."
The man chuckled. "Well, I could have taken them, but it would have been a bit more messy and I think the damage to this remarkable architecture would have been a bit more obvious as well," he remarked, before he threw his half smoked cigarette in one of the still lit braziers on the side.
Something inside Clive wanted him to pull his sword and put it on the man's neck, but he held back and instead looked at his father. "Did the stolas reach you?"
The Archduke nodded. "It did, but not with enough of a warning to fortify the castle properly." Running his gloved hands over his face he looked around. "We had expected a few smaller units, but not this amount of soldiers and especially not this well trained. How they managed to get by the Shields is beyond me."
"And unfortunately, your Lordship burned them all to a crispy, so we can't ask them either," the man chuckled, before pulling another smoke out of his jacket, lighting it with a bolt of magic... lightning magic.
Caressing his own aether, Clive stepped down from the platform and slowly approached the man, mind searching for the information he had been given so long ago, things he had been told to fulfill his assignments at the Strait of Autha. "Tell me, what reasons does the Lord Commander of Waloed's Army have to be in Rosaria and even more so, in Rosalith Castle?" Clive asked, steel in his voice.
"So you know who I am?" the man asked.
"I don't know your name, but I know that Ramuh's Dominant is serving as the Lord Commander of the Kingdom of Waloed," Clive replied. "The imperial intelligence has been fishy on some aspects pertaining Waloed, but here, the informations were clear."
"And a bit outdated," the Dominant chuckled, drawing from his cigarette again. "I left Waloed and my post some years ago, but I guess this didn't make it to the Empire just yet. But I see that some other rumors were true indeed. A few years ago, I had heard talk that the imperial army had a Bearer fierce as flame and fleet as a wildfire. I thought it could be you, but I never paid that talk much heed, cause I would have thought your family would try to free you, if it were you."
"We didn't know," Jill snarled, the air growing so cold around them, that Clive could see his breath freezing in front of him. "If we had, we would have tried to move the world to get him out."
He chuckled. "Seeing all of your reactions right now, I have no doubt about that." He straightened his back before throwing the next cigarette in the brazier. "But I guess at this point, formal introductions are in order." A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, and Clive could see the mirth sparkling in his eyes. The aether shifted again, but it flowed different now, opening up and warming softly. It was a strange feeling. "Cid Telamon, former Lord Commander of Waloed, at your service."
"I do admit, that without Lord Telamon..."
"Cid will suffice, Your Grace."
"... without Cid, we would most likely not be standing here," Elwin explained. "His arrival irritated our imperial friends to no end so they held their attack for just long enough, so you could take them out."
"Doesn't explain how they got in here though," Murdoch snarled angrily. Clive knew, that he took the fact that they had been able to take them unawares as an affront and insult to himself and would not let it stand.
Joshua growled. “With our mother still roaming free, all of those who supported her views from before Phoenix Gate are potential candidates for slipping them into Rosalith, but I would have guessed the castle more of a problem.”
“It seems, that you have your hands full,” Cid remarked, one arm still leisurely draped over the two swords at his side.
“Especially since you didn’t answer why you are here either,” Clive replied, Ifrit rumbling inside his chest but it was a soft acknowledgment of the other Dominant’s presence. Similar to Ifrit’s reaction when it came to Shiva and the Phoenix and Clive was wondering for a moment if that meant, that Cid was indeed not a threat but a friend.
Cid grinned. “You see, I heard little birds telling me about a certain rumor of an Archduke who is more lenient towards Bearers and the even more outlandish tale, that Rosaria now has three Eikons, one being the fabled monster that took down the Phoenix and the old fortress.” Clive had to keep himself from flinching. He should be used to this by now, but it still hit a nerve deep down.The same nerve that made him flinch, when someone reached out to touch his cheek. The expression on Cid’s face softened. “But more than that, I’m here because I hope to be allowed to tell you a tale and in turn, maybe there is a chance that I can help the Lord Marquess too. See, I have a talented healer in the lines of my associates, who might be able to help you with your brand…”
Night had fallen too fast between listening to Cid’s tale, his offer of helping Clive and trying to sort out the aftermath of the empire’s bold move, that had once again ended in a catastrophic failure. A stolas pulled Wade and Tyler back from their training run with a bunch of recruits in the wilds and they once again began a thorough screening process to see where their weak points were. Elwin had been close to ordering a full sweep through the houses of the nobles to make sure once and for all, that they didn’t give them away, but Cid had offered his own resources to the search in turn. After all, he had known of Clive long before the ducal family had, which made Joshua nearly rage at the Undying’s behavior, no matter the reasoning.
Clive took a deep breath, inhaling the cold night air that swirled around him, now that he was sitting on the very balcony again, that he had jumped over a few hours before to save his father and the duchy. But what had they really saved? If Cid’s tale was true, their doom was the very blessing they had prayed to their whole lives. The very thing, that all nations had waged war over for countless centuries. If the Mothercrystals and the use of magic was hastening the Blight, they would need to turn their whole world, their complete perception of it upside down.
It seemed so wild and unbelievable and yet, Clive could not deny that the proof was there in so many ways. The spreading of the Blight in the Northern Territories had slowed down after the fall of Drake’s Eye, which hadn’t stopped the tribes frenzied scrambling for crystal and their ill-fated decision to invade Rosaria. In the end the skirmish had lost Rosaria it’s own crystal and the Northern Territories had fallen anyways - first to the duchy, then to the spreading Blight.
How did the aetherfloods underneath Drake’s Head fit into all of this?
Staring into the clear nightsky, Clive had more questions than answers, and not just about this specific theory. In the long talks they had with Ramuh’s Dominant in his father’s study, it had become clear very soon, that a lot of Cid’s views did align with that of the Archduke as if they were to peas in a pod. They understood each other from the start and Clive had to admit, that it had been quite a sight to see his father this engaged and delighted in a conversation. They had thrown ideas around in a pace that had been insane and left the three Dominants and the one Lord Commander speechless.
It had been a huge proof of trust from Cid, when he admitted to having a base of operations in the Deadlands, even though he did not reveal it's position yet and neither demanded it. The fact that he had managed to live there, was already a feat in itself and he and Elwin quickly agreed on a pact of support. Cid would support Rosaria's own research and progress to make the duchy independent of the crystals, while Rosaria would offer support in food, supplies and gil. All under the cover of silence, that the other nations didn't realize what was happening.
It was right after they had agreed to call it for the night, that Clive decided to bring up the four-armed creature, and in that moment he had seen Cid frown, his eyes merely slits. Ramuh's Dominant chose his words carefully after it, telling them he had an assumption and maybe at least a hint, but he would have to get in touch with his contacts first and with the old scholar that lived underneath his Deadland-roof. Clive only nodded and thanked him, since he didn’t want to push further, now that Cid had already agreed to help him even in this endeavor.
The call of the guard-change made Clive look down for a moment, before his eyes went back to the moon and the stars in the sky, pondering the other thing Cid had offered. Something Clive wasn’t sure he could every repay if it worked out. A life in freedom, and free of the brand. A surgery to cut the skin away that was putting him in shackles. It was a procedure that wasn’t without risk, and Clive was well aware of that. One wrong incision and the poison would foul his blood and kill him. But was there even a choice? It was either living a life in hiding and with the sword of slavery over his head, or risking death under a knife with the chance of being able to life free, being able to go wherever he wanted to go, able to just be himself without people spitting into his face…
“What are you doing out here? Can’t sleep?”
… loving Jill without having to fear that they would be found out and she would pay the transgression of sleeping with a Branded with her very own life.
“You could say that,” Clive replied, smile tugging at his lips when Jill stepped onto the balcony, dressing gown above her shift. “Yet, I could ask you the same thing, my lady.”
… finally being able to loving Jill without holding back… finally being himself again after all these years.
She shrugged, before she closed the distance between them and climbed onto the bannister, carefully moving herself into his embrace, that wouldn’t send both of them tumbling down. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” she explained, pressing soft kisses to the side of his jaw, fingertips trailing over the bare skin of his chest that was exposed behind his tunic. “So I came looking for you.”
“And now?” Clive whispered.
She threaded her fingers through his. “And now I will tell you, that no matter your decision, I will stand by your side forever and always.”
“Together?”
“Together!”
The surgery had not been easy and the ducal physickers had been outright appalled, when Cid’s healer - a fiery redhead named Tarja - had explained to them, what she planned to do, but Clive had been adamant about the procedure, putting his life into her hands and that of his brother, since the very moment Clive had told his family about his intention, Joshua had insisted on being by his side while the surgery to heal whatever damage the scalpel would have to inflict on his face. Tarja had been skeptical at first, while Clive had outright protested, but in the end she had decided to allow it. While the healing of the Phoenix would not save Clive from a scar, it would spare him the need of having skin cut away from another part of his body to seal the wound.
The next thing they had needed had been herbs for painkillers, and Tarja insisted on a good amount of them. While the ducal healers had experience with treating the Phoenix, Ifrit was still an unknown in many ways and Tarja told them that she once needed an ungodly amount of herbs when she had been treating Cid.
Despite the painkillers and Joshua’s help, the surgery was hours of hell and agony in one for Clive, which left him delirious, feverish and completely exhausted, but also without a brand and finally free after having borne it for nearly half of his life.
It also did build a fundamental trust between the ducal family and the former Lord Commander of Waloed, even though they tried to keep that under the wraps as good as possible. It definitely did Rosaria no favor if the world realized that there were four Dominants of the known eight inside its borders now and working together. Leviathan was no longer counted, since the mighty sea serpent had disappeared long ago and was never herd from again.
It took Clive a few days to get back onto his feet entirely, but the moment the physickers and Tarja allowed him to return to training and duty he threw himself into it. For the first time since Phoenix Gate, Clive was finally free again. There were still demons that were haunting him and would do so for a very long time, but the burden of slavery had finally been lifted from him and not even the huge scar could ruin his good mood, especially since the injury hadn't even gotten that bad, after Joshua had put more than a bit of the Phoenix into it.
Jill and Joshua were at his side when he walked through Rosalith the first time after the brand had been taken off and for Clive it was as if he was finally allowed to see Rosalith through the eyes of his childhood. He was allowed to walk the streets with his head held high, instead of trailing behind someone else, because people disregarded who he was and only saw the brand. It was true, that he should not be treated differently as the Archducke's son, since in the end everyone was human, but yet he shouldn’t be regarded less than that either, because he had been Branded... because he could wield magic without a crystal. That he was a Dominant and unbranded now, didn't change the fact that he had lived the life of a slave for thirteen years.
Of course the nobles had questions now on how the brand was removed, fearing that their own slaves would try to take the chance and break their chains as well, and as much as it pained them all, they had come up with an explanation together with Cid, that would soothe all those nobles and at the same time protect Cid's growing unit of Cursebreakers, who were all Bearers and had their brand cut away.
And so they told everyone, that it had been a mix out of their Dominants magic. Clive burning his brand off, while Jill kept the poison contained with her ice - frozen in his skin - and Joshua constantly healed him with his magic. They could neither prove this story nor disprove it, since the tales about Shiva were rarely written down on paper but shared through spoken word, and even though the talents of the Phoenix were well documented, those of Ifrit were unknown to everyone, even his Dominant.
The unkown...
Clive took a sip from his cup, the tea long gone cold over his musings. His perception of the unknown had changed a lot over time. From something that he feared in his youth, to something he embraced in his first years of slavery in hopes that it would grant him death, to something he just accepted because he had no way of changing what was coming at him. Now the unknown was something he was wary of, but he no longer feared it, he was no longer allowed to fear it. With this strange creature coming at him and the war between Sanbreque and the Dominion brewing, he could no longer be afraid of it. And without the brand, he stood firmer on the ground and against the torrents that wanted to wash him away.
He shook his head and drowned his cup, tea bitter and cold. He shuddered, but then he rose from his chair and threw another log into the flames to keep the fire going. The nights had grown colder these days and he knew that Jill would be cold, which was the biggest irony, since she was the Warden of Ice after all.
Clive sighed softly, just staring into the fire, his hand wandering to the scar marring his cheek. It did no longer hurt and he barely felt the pull of the healed skin when he spoke or ate. He just missed kissing Jill... They hadn't shared as much as quick pecks on the lips or his uninjured cheek since his surgery and the last time they had been intimate had been before they had left for Sanbreque... They hadn't even shared their quarters, trying to maintain a certain decorum in front of Cid. Then Clive had been confined to the infirmary in the aftermath of the surgery and he was pretty sure, that all of the physickers would have thrown Jill out in a moment, if they did something silly... like trying to make love. That had been a few days ago and they simply had maintained their distance.
And now Clive didn't seem to be able to calm his racing thoughts. Jill had promised him, but the scar was massive and maybe... he couldn't demand this of her... and even if it broke his heart, he would let her go...
The sound of door opening and the lock softly snicking shut again. Clive took a deep breath, although he could feel it rattling in his body, his heart hammering in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears. He hadn't felt this scared since a long time. Two arms wrapped themselves around his belly from behind, squeezing him tightly and he took another long breath. The arms held onto him even tighter.
"Are you alright?" Jill whispered softly, voice muffled in his back. "I know that facing all these nobles today was exhausting, but you were an impressive sight. They way you held yourself there was nothing short of stunning and these nobles lost for words, since they couldn't attack you because of the brand anymore was just so satisfying to experience."
Carefully turning around in her grip, Clive searched for her eyes, waiting for any sign in them, that she was just saying that to please him, but she just looked at him and smiled, with tears glistening in her eyes. He moved his hands without thinking, cradling her cheeks in his palms and pressing her lips to her forehead. "Are you still with me?" he whispered. "Despite of it all?"
For just a split second, Jill's eyes widened, but then she leaned into his touch, her own hand rising to cover his scar, just like she had done it, when he had still been branded. "There is nowhere else I would rather be but by your side," she whispered. "This scar doesn't disfigure you - it's a proof of the hardships and pain you endured in these long years. A proof of your strength and determination." Her hand slipped away and she got up on her tiptoes, brushing her lips across the scarred skin, touch soft like a feather. For a moment Clive's heart skipped a beat. "Of course I would have preferred that you didn't have to go through any of this at all, but this scar is also a sign for the future. That those who have been enslaved don't have to be forever. That there is hope that one day they might be free again - free just like you are now." Another kiss on the scar, this time further down along the line of his jaw. "And I love seeing you like this. Free and happy, smiling and laughing, fierce and ferocious, gentle and loving. This scar doesn't take all of this away, but it adds to it and it makes you the man you are now. The man I swore my life to in the middle of a field of snowdaisies."
"I'm not worthy of your love," Clive whispered softly, his hands trailing down her arms before they came to rest on her hips, feeling her muscles through the thin fabric of the dressing gown and her nightshift. He brushed his lips over her forehead and her hands fell down to his chest, curling in his tunic. "But I will do my very best, that one day I will be."
Jill smiled softly, then brushed her lips over his. "My beautiful, adorable but stupid husband," she chuckled, hands wandering upward again and her fingers suddenly scratching tenderly through his short beard. "You are more than worthy. I've chosen you and you are mine."
Now Clive's smile turned into a smirk. "Husband?" he asked, lips traveling to that spot behind her ear. "I'd rather like the sound of that, especially if it comes from you, my lovely wife." She trembled underneath his touch and he moved his lips down to her pulsepoint, softly sucking on it. "Although I'm afraid we will have to make that official sooner rather than later," he growled, before licking a long stripe over her skin. "Just for the sake of my father and to uphold some traditions, not that we would need them."
"We don't," Jill chuckled breathlessly.
"But I want to kiss you in public without the world trying to shame us for it," Clive growled. "I want to show them all what you are to me. That you are mine!" Another kiss on her neck, a soft bite into her skin and she whined in response, hands now digging into his hair and scalp. "I want to be able to kiss your lips whenever I want, press you up a wall and ravage you, want to bury myself in you without thinking. I want to make you call my name without caring if someone hears us."
"Make me scream it, so the realms knows who holds my heart and soul," she breathed, her body slotting against Clive's like pieces of a puzzle when he pulled her tightly to him. She was warm underneath his touch, running warmer than usual, her breath hot against his skin. She was trembling and her eyes were blown wide. "I need you. I want you. Love me the way we wanted to the very first time, we came at each other."
Clive's eyes widened, the fire set his blood alight at the very memory alone. She had been wearing the same then, nothing more and nothing less and he surged forward to claim her lips with his, heart thundering in his chest, like it was in hers, hammering against his own. Her hands dug into the fabric of his tunic, pulling at it in blind desperation, teeth nipping at his lips. He had her face cupped in his hands, turning her towards him and he devoured her, just like she returned the ferocity.
He allowed her to pull his tunic over his head, throwing it to the side without a care in the world, lips assaulting his again, her body wrapped around his and her fingertips digging into his back. Tongues dancing and dueling they stumbled back against one of the walls, Jill hitting it with her back, and Clive fumbling with the laces of his leather pants, his length already straining against the fabric.
Jill released a soft whine, nails scratching down Clive's back and he hissed, instinctively bucking his hips into her, despite the layers of clothing that separated them from each other. It took Clive another long minute to wriggle himself free of his trousers, his own anticipation making his hands shake and tremble. He was addicted to Jill and these few weeks without her were nothing but torture for the both of them, by the way her fingers ran over his back. And then finally he held himself in hand, giving his already rigid member some rough strokes, slit already dripping and leaking.
With Jill's back against the wall, Clive grabbed the fabrics of her shift and her dressing gown, bunching both of it up around her hips, baring her long, pale legs to him, wearing nothing but her soft slippers. "I see my lady came here with an intend," Clive growled, one hand letting go of the dress to cup her mound. She was hot to the touch, but velvet against his palm, fingers softly running through her folds, thumb caressing her nub. She released a loud moan, when he dipped inside, throwing her head against the wall, nails now biting into his back and he used the moment to latch onto her neck again, biting, kissing, licking and sucking, while she rocked into his hand and the fingers he offered her. Until she lost her patience.
"Stop teasing," she groaned, body shuddering. "Or I repay you in kind and I promise you, that people will remember you scream my name by the morrow."
"Let them," he growled, teeth scraping over her pulsepoint. "Let them hear, that it is the ice queen I answer to." Clive knew deep down that once his sex-drunken brain was sober again, that he would be mortified, if anyone in the castle ever heard him in that state, but right now the body part of him that was in charge didn't care. Yet, he didn't want to let her wait any longer himself, since he wanted this just as much as Jill. He needed it like the air he was breathing; the air they were sharing between their fast and passionate kisses.
Pulling his hand back from Jill, Clive made a step forward before lifting her up, her own arms wrapping themselves around his neck. She held on tight and wedged between the wall and Clive, it was easy for him to hold her up with one arm, taking his throbbing length to line himself up...
... and for a moment Clive froze, throwing a look over his shoulder towards the door, waiting for a moment for any sound at all...
... and then he drove himself home.
Clive didn't know what the future would bring for them, what answers they would find once they started looking for them, but he had no doubt that together with Jill he could find them and he could weather any storm that fate would force him to go through.
She was his home and his sanctuary.
Notes:
Well, if you made it to here you have my sincerest gratitude for going on this wild ride with me and sticking with this story! Thank you so, so much!
I know this story ended with an open note - what happens with Dion in Twinside, what about Cid and his lofty plans about the Mothercrystals, how did these assassins get into the castle and what about our pair of lovebirds that can finally behave like it in public too?
I am currently trying to find answers to all these questions that I threw on my table myself. I had planned at first to leave this sitting for a while, and give some love to my other WIPs (RIP we hardly knew ye), but in the end I decided to start lining out a second part and see where that leads me, which I hope I have finished enough parts of that I can start posting without fear that I‘m shipwrecking the whole thing. Or maybe I‘m completely done, but we will see.
Anyways thank you so much for sticking with this story to the end and hopefully I‘ll see you around for the next one. ❤️
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