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Chapter Text

Everything Under Heaven

I wanted to write more Faye/Celica stuff. Only dripping with angst and pain and grief because reasons.

I hope you all enjoy reading this.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It is over.

Duma's corpse lies, silent and unmoving, on the floor of the grand chamber. A stunned silence falls everyone present scarcely able to believe their success.

Gasping for breath, Celica lowers her sword, and scans the room. Around her are her friends and allies, all wounded, all weary.

And Alm stands in front of her, staring at Duma's corpse. At the god he has slain.

Well, 'stands' might be a bit strong a word. He leans heavily on the Falchion, his armour rent, and wounds covering his body. Blood coats the ground all around him, mute testimony to the titanic clash between man and god.

And as Celica stares at Alm, slumped over, fighting for breath, she cannot help the creeping feeling of dread that wells up within her. Even as she watches, he falls to one knee, his head hanging low.

She rushes over to him, hands already glowing with light, preparing to heal him. As she nears, he raises his head to look at her.

He smiles at her, and for that one moment, everything is all right. Everything will be fine. All of Celica's fear are allayed, and her worries seem simple and childish.

“Celica...” he speaks, his voice soft, and suddenly reality and his wounds and his battered, broken body crash down on her again.

“Alm...?” It's all she can say, as the cold knot in her belly clenches and she finds herself short of breath.

“Please...” a gasp, and then a cough – flecks of blood spatter on the floor, “look after... everyone... for me.”

And before she can respond, or even fully comprehend what she is seeing, Alm's grip on Falchion fails him, and he falls in a shapeless heap onto the cold earth.

(X)

Unifying the continent is impossible now. Alm, born in Rigel but raised in Zofia, the hero who had defeated Rudolf and Duma both, was the only one who could have laid claim to ruling both realms. With his passing, so too passes the dream of the One Kingdom.

The loss of Rigel's entire royal family sends shockwaves through the battered nation. Negotiations and backdoor deals are hastily concluded, and Halcyon is made head of a provisional council, his sole task to focus on getting Rigel back on its feet before they look to the future and worry about what it will hold for them.

In fact, both nations now turn inward, resources and energy now devoted to pulling themselves together and recovering from the ravages of the war.

Celica is made queen in a quiet ceremony, without pomp or splendour. The task of leading Zofia – of guiding the nation forward to a future without gods – now rests upon her shoulders.

That first night, long after the dignitaries, bureaucrats and officials have departed, she sits on the throne, staring at nothing with empty, haggard eyes. She remembers the promise she'd shared with Alm in the depths of Rigel's royal vault. Their promise to lead the people towards a bright, prosperous future.

They seem merely so much empty words now.

Nevertheless, she works. She works because she must. For the sake of Alm's memory. For the sake of her friends and family who believe in her. For the sake of the people of Zofia, so that they can look to tomorrow with hope.

She attends meetings and discussions how to improve crop yields. She entertains diplomats from Rigel, seeking to repair the wounds of war and to discuss trade and cooperation. She tries to hush the voices that demand crippling reparations from Rigel.

She works, and works, and works, and tries to ignore the pain in her heart.

She is so busy that she almost misses Faye as she prepares to leave.

Faye, pale and silent in the aftermath of the war. More than once Celica had seen her, simply sitting quietly, eyes staring off into empty nothing. She doesn't know the details – but she knows of Faye's deep devotion towards Alm. More than once, Celica had resolved to go talk to her, only to be dragged away by the ceaseless demands of restoration and rebuilding.

She sees Faye less and less over the first few weeks. Had she been paying attention, it would have seemed to her that Faye was struggling to find energy merely to get out of bed, to emerge from the room given to her upon the Deliverance's return to Zofia Castle. Celica keeps her head low, focuses on the endless reports and meetings and demands, and yet the thought that she should at least check up on Faye, offer her comfort and support, keeps creeping up.

Later, she tells herself.

Later. The word is sweet, numbing poison.

Later almost becomes never when Celica prepares to enter yet another meeting regarding assets seized from Desaix and the other rebels. She glances over her shoulder for no particular reason – and sees Faye turning the corner, shoulders bent over under the weight of a heavy pack.

It takes her a moment to realize that she's started running after Faye, but even when she does, she doesn't stop. Instead she increases her pace, trying to catch her before she steps outside castle walls.

She catches up to her in the royal gardens, under the shadows of an old oak tree. A few orange and red leaves still cling on defiantly to the branches, but it's mostly bare.

“Faye!” she blurts out.

Faye turns and looks at her. And for the first time, Celica realizes just how pale Faye now looks. She looks small and frail, as if she could be swallowed up by the heavy sack she lugs behind her.

“Your Majesty,” she says. Her tone is polite, without warmth.

“Celica is fine,” she says automatically. And then, “Are you leaving?”

A moment's pause. “Yes,” she does not meet Celica's gaze, “I'm heading back to Ram. I... there's nothing for me here.”

And Celica opens her mouth, ready to deny it. But she knows she can't. Not truthfully.

And she knows giving Faye a comforting lie will just be doing her a disservice.

A silence, heavy and awkward, falls on the two of them.

“It'll be winter soon,” Celica finally ventures. “You won't... it won't be safe to travel by yourself once the first snows fall.”

“I'll be fine.” A deep breath. “I know how long it takes to travel south.”

And Celica has to admit that's probably true. Faye will probably be able to make it back home before winter. And maybe... just maybe, returning to the familiarity of her old village will be good for her. Maybe it will help her heal.

But still. Celica can't help the uneasiness that settles in, nor the tightness in her chest. Faye's – all their friends from the village are remaining here. Sending Faye back, alone... No. There's no way that would help her.

“Please, I...” She doesn't even know why, but suddenly it's vitally, vitally important to her that she gets Faye to stay here. That she doesn't pass through the gates, and doesn't slip back into memory. “Please, stay.”

This time Faye does look up, and something like emotion flashes across her face. “... Why?” she asks after a long moment.

And Celica doesn't have an answer. Or at least nothing specific, nothing more concrete than a simple statement of, “I'm... worried about you.”

Such trite, tired words. Yet they are also, undeniably true. As Celica looks at Faye, at the quiet desperation written across the girl's face, she realizes that she can't bear leaving Faye to suffer alone.

For her part, Faye doesn't respond immediately. Her gaze lowers again.

On an impulse, Celica reaches out and touches Faye's hand. She doesn't pull away, and after another moment of hesitation, Celica curls her fingers around it, latching on her. “Just for a little while. Please.”

Another long moment. Finally, almost imperceptibly, Faye nods.

And Celica releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A smile doesn't seem at all appropriate in this situation, but nevertheless her heart feels ever so slightly lighter.

“Thank you.” The whisper is so soft Celica almost misses it.

Slowly, Faye allows herself to be led back to her room. Celica takes the time to make sure she is comfortable before leaving, with a promise to return and check on her soon.

Later, she learns that the meeting she'd run out on had proceeded fine even without her presence.

(X)

Celica makes it a point to visit Faye's room regularly from then on. Usually she'll bring her meals (and she ignores the uneasy look from the castle staff when she insists on doing so) or snacks to share during teatime.

Usually when she opens the door she'll see Faye staring listlessly out the window. She has a wonderful view of the royal gardens from her vantage point, but Celica can only wonder if she actually sees it – or anything else, really.

It's still an improvement from the first few days, where she would enter to see Faye lying in bed, almost unresponsive as she stared up at the ceiling.

Sometimes, Celica will sit and talk to Faye, telling her about issues with the reconstruction, about how their friends have been making quick progress through the ranks of Zofia's knights (she knows that they've been visiting her too, but of late their work has called them away, all across the country, and if the reports are accurate they'll be spending the winter assigned to the coast).

Faye listens, and does her best to hold up her end of the conversation, but it's obvious that she's still driven to distraction and has trouble focusing. Sometimes she'll break off in the middle of a sentence, her eyes haunted and staring, before she shakes her head and mumbles a hasty apology.

And Celica can only hope that she is helping. She presses on, driven by the quiet conviction that she is right, that Faye would be faring even worse on her own, without anyone to be with her.

Meanwhile, the duties of royalty continue to press down on her, and she throws herself into tackling the demands of her position as they crop up. Meetings that end in deadlocks between intractable parties, reports of poor harvests, clashes along the border by hotheads who don't want to accept the war is over, bandits who continue to take advantage of the chaos – at times Celica feels she is facing down a hydra, two more problems sprouting up for every one she resolves.

Everyone helps, as much as they can. Sir Clive and Dame Mathilda lead the knights to defend the populace from bandit raids. Saber and Jesse put their plans for the Mercenary Kingdom on hold, lending their swords to the defence of Zofia instead ('Just until everything's settled down, lass.') Conrad, son of Rigel and Zofia both, serves as the country's best diplomat, working tirelessly to resolve disputes between the two wounded nations. Sonya enlists Luthier's help, and the two of them spend long hours of research and experiments on crafting new spells to coax greater harvests from Zofia's soil.

“You sure you'll be okay?” Mae asks her as she looks up from throwing her clothes into her pack.

“Yes,” Celica nods and keeps a firm expression on her face. “I'll be just fine, Mae. And I know you and Boey miss the island. I don't want you to remain here, just for my sake.”

“But it feels weird!” Mae huffs and complains as she folds her arms – but Celica still catches her quick glance eastward, towards the open seas. “I mean, I'm not gonna say I don't miss the ocean and Novis, but at the same time... You're going to be all alone here, you know?”

That word cuts Celica deeper than she'd anticipated, but she manages to keep any of it from showing on her face even as her thoughts flash back to him. Instead she walks over and places a hand on Mae's shoulder.

“The last thing I want is for my friends to tie themselves down here on my account. I'll be fine. I promise. And if anything does go awry, you'll be the first to know.”

“Okay, okay.” Mae sighs and manages a rueful smile as she hefts her bag on her shoulder. “Guess I always knew this day would come. Just... not quite so soon. Take care of yourself, Celica. And see you soon.”

A long, lingering embrace, and when Mae waves one final time before leaving, Celica keeps the smile on her face until she is sure Mae is well and truly gone.

Alone, she wipes away the tears that brim in her eyes, and prepares to face the next day.

(X)

The snow comes earlier than predicted that year, and soon the world outside the castle is blanketed in a thick layer of pure white.

Faye seems to be improving, at least as far as Celica can tell. She can now focus well enough to hold conversations, and though she still rarely leaves the room, at least Celica can see signs of activity within it – scattered sewing projects adorn the tables, and more than once, when she opens the door she sees her on the couch, head bowed over a thick book.

Now, too, when Celica opens the door and Faye catches sight of her, she smiles. And Celica smiles back, although she can never shake the feeling that something still lurks deep inside Faye. There's always the slightest moment of hesitation there, like she's unsure of something.

The work of ruling continues to bear down on Celica. It's exhausting. The monotonous grind of chronic issues that must be resolved almost daily. The sharp panic of crises that come out of nowhere. More draining than the effort needed to solve each problem is how endless it all seems.

More than once Celica finds herself sitting at her desk, head in her hands. For all her work, the land prospering under the hands of man seems further away than ever.

Gradually, Celica finds herself looking forward to her daily visits to Faye more and more.

It only makes sense, after all.

Faye does not need her to be the queen.

Faye just needs her to be Celica.

There, she can cast aside her worries, sit down with a cup of steaming tea, and while away the hours with a friend. Sometimes they speak of mundane, everyday matters, such as planting new flowers in the castle gardens when the thaw comes or perhaps her practice with the lyre. Sometimes they simply remain silent, reading books or working on hobbies, Celica painting while Faye sews.

It's comforting. Familiar.

She loves being with Faye, in their tiny refuge from the harshness of her duty and the world.

And if that's that case, Celica wonders, why the heaviness in her stomach of late? Why the dull, throbbing pain in her heart?

And then one day, she pushes open the door to Faye's room, and finds it unoccupied.

Celica frowns. Faye almost never left the room, so if she was doing so now, that was probably a good thing.

And yet, as she scans the place, she can't help but feel that something was – well, not wrong, exactly. But not right either.

As she glances about, she happens to look out the window, and her eyes widen. There, amongst the snow, in the royal gardens, she sees a small dark shape.

Faye!

She dashes out, down the stairs, into the gardens. Faye is huddled up in a thin cloak that provides little protection from the cold, sitting slumped against the tree she and Celica had spoken under months ago.

“Faye!” she blurts out as she nears. “What happened? Why are you-?” Her voice fades into silence as she gets a good look at her.

Faye is crying. Her face is a mask of sorrow and pain, and tears stream down her cheeks as she leans against the rough wood of the tree. She doesn't look up at Celica, but shakes her head once.

“It hurts...” her voice is a soft whimper. “It hurts so much.”

And Celica knows – instinctively? – what she's talking about.

Who she's talking about.

She dives down, heedless of the snow piling up around them, and she pulls Faye in, hugging her close, her embrace tight.

“I know.” She says. She does. She knows, all too well.

“It-” Faye takes a sputtering gasp of air and shakes her head again, her face rubbing against the fabric of Celica's cloak. “It's not fair.”

“I know...” Celica swallows, and she squeezes her eyes shut. “Alm... he shouldn't have had to die.”

A snort, and Celica feels an exhalation against her shoulder. “No... not what I meant.”

She blinks in surprise but doesn't say anything else. After a moment, Faye speaks again.

“You're hurting too, aren't you, Celica?” A pause as Faye sniffles. “You loved Alm too. I can tell. But you... you don't show it. You don't let anyone comfort you. You come to take care of me. Look after me.”

Faye swallows hard, and her hands scrabble weakly against Celica, clutching onto her cape. “You have a kingdom to run. But you still need to come watch over me. And I can't – I can't do anything. I can't move on. I just drag you down. I'm pathetic.” Her final line is a soft whisper that is almost lost to the white silence all around them.

For a long moment, neither moves. Faye doesn't raise her head to meet Celica's gaze, but she doesn't pull away either.

Finally Celica sighs. One hand reaches up, and silently she creates a spell, a tiny ball of warmth that centres around her thumb. Slowly, with deliberate movements, she wipes at the frozen tears that cover Faye's cheeks.

“I hurt too, Faye. All the time. But... you're right. I don't show it. I can't – not as a Queen. Everyone else is counting on me to lead the kingdom now.”

She remembers the first few days, just after the dream of a life with Alm had turned into a nightmare. How she had alternated between a dazed stupor, furious rage, and cold apathy. How many silent nights had she stained the pillow with her tears?

But she had forced herself to move on, because too many people were counting on her, because there was too much to do, and she did not have the time or the privacy to indulge her grief.

“But you know? Being with you... spending time with you...” Celica smiles. “It made me happy. I like being with you. I like being just Celica there, in the room. Not her royal majesty.”

Faye is silent, and Celica wonders what she is thinking right now.

“Don't ever say you're dragging me down. Don't even think that. You could never be a burden to me, Faye.” Her voice is soft, spoken with all the sincerity she can muster. “Never.”

“... I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Celica glances up at the withered tree and its bare branches. “Don't ever apologize for being hurt. It can take a long while to heal, but you are healing. And I promise I'll help you through it, as much as I can. As long as it takes.”

Faye silently allows herself to be pulled to her feet. A corner of her mind notes that her cloak is soaked through – she'll need to order extra firewood for Faye's room later.

The two of them walk slowly back towards the castle. They're about halfway back when Faye speaks up again.

“Celica?”

“Yes, what is it?”

“It's okay if you need to be hurt. You can show it to me.”

The murmured words aren't exactly coherent – Faye is exhausted and will probably collapse onto her bed once she changes into something warm, but the sentiment in those words are still carried through, and they make her smile.

“Thank you,” she says as she stares up at the castle. Her home, and yet not. The arm holding on to Faye tightens its grip. “I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Chapter End

Author Notes: So I have a bunch of Faye/Celica stuff I want to do and sifting through my ideas they all have a heavy sense of melancholy about them.

Also my stories seem to tend to involve getting someone killed. Why? Who knows.

Thanks for reading! Comments and criticisms are very welcome!

Chapter Text

Everything Under Heaven

Disclaimer: I own nothing

“You... weren't there for his funeral, were you? I remember looking for you, but I couldn't find you.”

“I couldn't... I wanted to go. But it was just... too painful.”

(X)

Faye feels like she is drowning.

Day in, day out. No matter what she does, no matter how much she tries to distract herself, she can't escape. She can't break free.

It's as if she's trapped and tumbling, disoriented down a flooded tunnel of infinite darkness. Above her, a tiny pinprick of light, that signals salvation.

So far away.

So she kicks and struggles, desperately fighting towards that promise of relief, as she feels her lungs and limbs burn.

The light looms, closer, closer still, until seizing upon a sudden burst of strength, Faye thrusts her head through and gasps-

But instead of fresh, sweet air, she swallows freezing cold water, and she chokes and sputters as her lungs seize.

She's not in a well. The light is not the sky – it's merely a series a tunnels that lead ever further – the promise of salvation is a lie.

Day in, day out. Unbearable pressure, a physical weight that crushes her chest and makes it nearly impossible to breathe, impossible to get out of bed. To function, to live.

Faye feels like she is drowning.

(X)

She still isn't sure why Celica had first sought her out on the day that she had tried to leave. Duty? Or pity, perhaps. Perhaps it was paying dues to the friendship they'd once shared, long ago, in the village that now seems frozen in the past, a memory of what can't ever be again.

Her heart had been brittle, and the warmth of Celica's hand on hers was comforting. For the first time in so long, Faye felt something like relief, like the crushing pressure that throbbed in her chest was subsiding, just a little.

Maybe that was why she had allowed herself to be swayed. Or maybe it was because that without Alm, she was adrift and meandering.

He had been her pole star, the constant around which she had set her life. Even after he had told her, with kind, gentle words, that her dream of a life with him would never come true, she had continued to live in his orbit, telling herself that she could be happy with her lot in life – as long as Alm was happy with his.

But now?

More than her offer of help, Celica's presence in the days that come, her simple willingness to be with Faye, gives her something to anchor her life to.

It's not a path to recovery – not even really the start of it.

But for the first time in a long while, Faye starts to feel like she has something to cling on to, again.

For the first time in a long while, she feels like she stands on solid ground.

The door to her room opens. It's Celica, coming to check in on her again.

And Faye finds herself able to smile.

(X)

“I've been a horrible person to you.”

“What? No, you haven't.”

“Not to your face. But back then... back when Alm was... I tried to make myself look better because – because I... But anyway there wasn't anything I could be proud of about myself. So... I tried to put you down instead.”

Silence. But her expression is understanding, and it coaxes out more of her words.

“I told him that you couldn't understand Alm... that maybe you weren't right for him after all.” A soft gasp. “I went behind your back and... I was selfish and small-minded and – and... I'm sorry.”

(X)

Faye supposes that, when it comes down to it, she is selfish.

Well, she could be selfless in some ways. She would gladly have sacrificed anything for Alm, had he asked her. She would have placed him first, always.

But once anything got in the way of that – of what she wanted to do, then she had no time for them. It was that simple.

And now she wonders – is she being selfish still?

She finds herself almost paralysed sometimes. She doesn't know why. The taste of an orange, the sound of someone's laughter, seeing the colour of the sky in all its vastness and suddenly she feels her heart twist and fray in pain once more.

She finds herself paralysed, walking slowly through life.

And Celica is the one who is with her.

Celica, who had loved Alm, like Faye does.

Celica, who loves Alm, and his memory, still. Like Faye does.

And so she wonders – is she selfish?

Yes she is. Because it had taken her far too long to notice the sorrow in Celica's eyes that mirrors her own.

Yes she is. Because even now that she knows, her body seems to betray her, offering her no way to respond and reciprocate Celica's tender, gentle care.

Yes she is. Because something deep inside her, some part of her that is dark and ugly, wants to lash out and blame Celica for all this. Celica, the person who had reached out a hand to her in her darkest hour. Celica, who cares for her and takes time out of every day to visit Faye and make sure she is well.

If you hadn't met Alm, this would never have happened!

Yes, Faye is selfish.

But not so selfish that she doesn't recognize her own ugliness.

Celica knocks and enters again, her expression open and comforting. Faye smiles back and pretends not to notice the signs that speak of how exhausted Celica is by the burdens of her crown.

Faye is selfish. Some part of her writhes and demands more, more, more.

That part wilts and becomes silent when Celica comes near, and her inner beauty, her compassion, her selflessness shines.

Faye, resent Celica? Celica, who suffers from the same pain that Faye does? Celica, who endures it all, and bears the weight of the country on her shoulders at the same time? Celica, the one who reaches out to her day after day?

There's a limit to selfishness. Even Faye's own.

“I brought chamomile tea today,” Celica says as she indicates the teapot. “It's the blend you told me you liked before.”

“Thanks.” Faye's voice is softer than she would like. “I really appreciate it.”

Smiles are exchanged, the tea is poured, and the next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence as Faye raises the cup to her lips.

(X)

“Hey, remember back in Ram, when I tried to teach you how to do farm work?”

“Of course I do. … I was terrible at it. At least at first.”

“Heh. Back then, I remember thinking that you'd always be one step behind me.” A sigh. “I really look silly now, don't I?”

A laugh. “If you do, it's only because you're thinking too hard about what's already past.”

(X)

It's funny, how perspectives can change all of a sudden.

How a single sentence can make you see in the past in a different light, and suddenly you're questioning all that happened before, and if it was you who saw everything all wrong.

Up until that day, Faye had assumed she was being a burden on Celica.

That her inability to move on, that the room she was in, all of it, was weighing her down.

It only makes sense. Celica continues to visit, and her eyes grow more tired. Gray and Tobin tell her that Zofia is still limping along – the country seems directionless, struggling to pull itself together in the wake of war, famine, and losing its patron deity.

So it makes sense that Celica is overwhelmed.

And yet she continues to come visit Faye. Precious time, taken out every day to come see her, and to check if she is doing well, coping with her grief.

Faye doesn't deserve it. She knows she doesn't. She's a farm girl with nothing to offer to anyone living in a castle.

Celica shouldn't be wasting her time on her.

But Faye is selfish. Too selfish to say it out loud, because now the object of her selfishness had changed. She doesn't want to lose Celica. Not now. Her presence, her smile, her care and concern – Faye doesn't want that to go away. She doesn't want that to change.

That pressure builds up in her again, like a dam on the verge of collapse.

And that day, she finds herself out in the blinding white of snow, her mind a daze and barely aware of what's going on.

What is she supposed to do? How long can it go on like this? She wants Celica to be by her side, but at the same time she doesn't want to continue to drag Celica down.

Maybe if she were stronger, or smarter, or – or... something. If only there were something she could do to help Celica, or to repay her for everything she's done-

But that's impossible. She has enough trouble standing on her own two feet now, of trying to move forward past the pain of Alm's loss.

She bows her head as she leans heavily against the old oak tree, and she cries.

“Faye!”

It's Celica who finds her again.

It always is.

She holds on to her, warms her up using her magic. Using her time, her energy, to take care of Faye, because she's a wreck that can't take care of herself.

But when she holds her close and tells Celica that, it's Celica that shoots that notion down.

“I like being with you.”

“You could never be a burden to me, Faye.”

It's only then (well, to be honest, it's later, when she's rested and recovered from the biting cold of winter) that she learns that Celica doesn't see Faye as a burden, a duty she must uphold.

Celica is happy to be there with Faye, because she places no demands or expectations on her, and they can simply be with each other – sharing strength and being friends, away from the world's demands.

It's funny, how perspectives can change all of a sudden.

Celica is happy to be by Faye's side.

That knowledge is a glowing ember of comfort that she clutches close to heart.

(X)

“Sometimes, I felt like I just couldn't go on.”

“I mean, that's natural, isn't it? You were thrust into taking control of the country when you weren't ready.”

“I know. I guess I didn't really help myself either. I was so focused on putting up a good front, of trying to be the queen the people needed. I didn't allow myself to open up to anyone and tried to bear my burdens alone. I guess old habits die hard.”

“But you opened up to me.”

A slow, thoughtful nod. “I did. But... well, I didn't mean to. Not at first.”

(X)

When Faye sees Celica crying, her heart skips a beat.

She's been venturing out of her room more often, of late. Never very far, and usually at Celica's behest. But it's something.

Step by step. One day at a time. Grief still surges, but it ebbs too, and Faye begins to feel as if she can indeed move on. With Celica by her side, offering strength and guidance.

At the same time Faye frets. Celica tells her she's happy with Faye just being herself, and she has no reason to doubt it.

But still. But still.

She is out of place, in Castle Zofia. The place is alien to her. The gears of government grind on all around Faye, with Celica at the centre of it all. And she sits, a farm girl, quiet and useless, unsure of how to help.

“You shouldn't need to worry about that,” Celica tells her when she mentions it. “At least, not yet. You're still grieving, Faye.”

And you're not? Faye thinks, but doesn't speak out loud. Instead she sits and watches.

Celica loves. She loves so much, she gives so much of herself, that it hurts. And yet, she refuses to allow anyone to give to her.

The most she will allow is the passive peace and comfort provided by her visits with Faye. And Faye is not a people person, nor does she have deep insight into the workings of people's minds, but she knows that if she tried to push the issue, tried to actively start helping, Celica would withdraw too.

So she knows, she knows it's bad when she enters Celica's chamber unbidden (and a small part of her still wonders at that; a little farm girl, being given the right to enter the queen's presence unannounced), and sees her crying. And when Celica doesn't immediately swallow her tears and try to put up a wall of normalcy, that's when Faye knows Celica is devastated .

She doesn't know the details – only that it was a meeting with Rigelian delegates, and that it had not gone well at all. She later picks up some of it along the grapevine – 'border clashes', 'negotiations', 'breakdown', and more, but she's less than a novice in the arena of politics and can't fit the terms into a narrative or cohesive series of events.

But really, she doesn't need to.

She sees Celica, sitting in front of her desk, head leaning to one side and resting on her palm. Her shoulders are shaking, and though her eyes are hidden, there are fresh tear stains down her cheeks.

She's at Celica's side in an instant. Her mind whirls with words that she knows won't help, and instead she finds herself embracing Celica in the tightest hug she can muster.

Celica doesn't pull away, instead she leans into Faye, and her shoulders shake.

They stay together, a timeless instant.

“Thank you,” Celica finally whispers. And Faye doesn't respond at first, instead continuing to hold her.

“Don't suffer alone,” she says after a long moment. “Please. Not anymore.”

She can still remember the promise she had made that snowy day, that Celica could share in her hurt. She can only wonder if Celica still does, too.

“I know... I can't help you that much.” Faye continues. “I don't know much about – anything, really. Not about ruling or government or anything. But please, Celica. Please. Let me... Let me be there for you too.”

She's tied herself so closely to her. To Celica, the person who's helped her so, so much.

When had she grown to care about her so much? When had she started to feel Celica's hurts as keenly as her own?

When had she fallen in love with the woman she'd once seen as a rival?

She doesn't know. All her focus, her thoughts, are pinned to this one moment, of Celica's body pressed close to hers.

And slowly, almost hesitantly, she feels Celica's arms reaching up around her to hold Faye close as well.

(X)

“Celica?”

“What is it?”

“Do you ever worry... that it was just circumstance that we ended up together?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean...” a deep breath, and an attempt to stop the trembling in her voice. “If anything had been slightly different... if Alm hadn't died... or maybe I had died instead... or, or even if you hadn't caught me before I left that day... we wouldn't have found each other.”

“And you're worried about that?”

“It just... It seems so fragile. What we have. Like if one of a thousand things had been slightly different, it would never have come to pass.”

“... I can't deny that. But, Faye, never look so far at what might have been that you miss what actually is. Right here, right now. We do have each other.” One hand reaches up, lightly brushes a thumb across Faye's cheek. “And that's enough.”

(X)

The ball is not a particular large or fancy one by royal standards. Really, it's mostly a public relations affair, meant for meet and greets, and to allow for deals and agreements to be reached in a more relaxed setting.

But it's still more extravagant and opulent an event than Faye has ever been to before. She steps into the dance room, clad in a dress the colour of sunset – and all eyes shift in her direction.

Mostly because she enters alongside Queen Celica, their hands intertwined.

If she wanted to, she could practically feel the emotions and questions rippling from everyone in the room – from 'are the two of them really...?' to 'I knew it!' but really, why would she want to?

Hang their opinions (Well, not all of them. She sees Gray standing beside Clair, and they both give approving smiles that makes her own grow bigger). The person she wants to please already walks at her side.

They dance together – and Faye is nervous that she will forget the steps, make a fool of herself and the queen, but no such faux pas happens. So she chooses instead to focus on Celica's face, how the blazing lights are caught in her hair and make it shine with a fiery glow.

Celica's smile comforts her, makes her feel more at ease.

It has for a long while.

It's later on that they step out onto the balcony, hand in hand. For a moment, they are silent, gazing up at the beauty of the night sky. Spring is here now, and the night breeze holds a pleasant chill.

“You danced really well out there today.” Celica smiles at her. “I told you you could do it.”

“Well, you were pretty good yourself,” Faye says with a laugh. “Especially since you took it on yourself to learn how to lead.”

“True. I never thought I'd ever have to learn those steps...” She closes her eyes, and lets out a soft sigh. “After all, I always thought that if I got the chance to dance, he would be the one leading.”

And Faye knows who she's referring to – how could she not?

And she swallows. Old hurts come back again – but alongside new worries, new fears.

“...Celica?” It's silly, she knows it's silly and foolish, but it bubbles up inside her anyway. Anxiety that gnaws away at her. And so she speaks, and she trusts Celica to answer and silence the doubts that she cannot.

“Am I... am I just a replacement for Alm?” The question is asked as lightly and as simply as she can manage. Thoughts of before, of years ago in Ram Village, of Alm not loving her, of Alm loving Celica, swirls in her mind. Anger, resentment... fear?

Yes, fear.

Fear that she wasn't good enough for Alm then... that she's not good enough for Celica now.

Fear that once Celica is strong enough to move ahead, she'll pull away, and draw back the warmth she now offers Faye.

Celica doesn't respond immediately, but her hand that still rests in Faye's doesn't pull away. Instead she tilts her head to the side, ever so slightly.

“Am I?” The question is returned, and the sheer unexpectedness of it makes Faye open her mouth in a silent 'o'.

A moment passes. High above them, the stars twinkle. Faye closes her eyes and sighs.

“No,” she says. The next words balance on her tongue for an agonizingly long moment before she speaks. “You could never replace Alm.”

A moment passes in the silence. Faye almost doesn't dare to open her eyes, but she does – and Celica's face remains open, inviting her to continue on.

“And... you don't have to.”

Alm had been a tower. Tall, proud, and strong. Unassailable. Unapproachable. For so often, so long, Faye had stood staring up at him, at something greater than herself, and tried to lift herself higher, higher, higher, to where he would be. Back before, in Ram, and the days of the Great War, Faye could always rely on him, could seek refuge in him, find shelter and comfort, but always the cold, stark walls remind her relentlessly that this is not her home and will never be.

Celica is a flame. She dances and flickers and flares, and will be caught by no one. Her warmth and her passion blazes within her, and where she goes she spreads her fire, her love and life, stirring blackened embers in Faye's own heart. Gentle too, encircling Faye, never so tight so as to scorch her, always there to warm her heart and coax strength into her limbs.

“I want to be with you, Celica.” Faye says. The words come out easily – they merely reflect the conviction that already beats in her chest. “Not anyone else. Not anymore. I want you.”

A smile, soft and slow, plays across Celica's lips, and Faye does not miss that her eyes seem to just a little brighter in the dim candlelight, light catching on tears.

“I see,” a nod, “then please, let me give you my answer too. Faye...”

And she leans in close, close enough for her breath to brush across the curve of Faye's ear. Faye stills, but for her heart that hammers away in her chest.

Three words, drops of liquid sunlight that seem to fall from heaven, spreading through her, and filling her body with warmth.

A moment later Celica's lips brush against her own, and Faye's heart now aches with overflowing joy.

(X)

“You saved me, you know that, right? Without you reaching out your hand to me... I'd have just fallen apart completely.”

“I know. But Faye... you always being there, always being someone I could trust in... I didn't mean for it to happen that way, but... you saved me, too.”

Chapter End

Author Notes: I wanted to have Faye come across as a lot more introspective and wistful this chapter because she's pretty much been left with only her thoughts as company for a good long while. Another consequence of the way I'm writing this is that the wider political impact of what happened is only mention in passing this chapter – because I don't think Faye is in a position to care much, at least not with her development and current state of mind.

Well, in any case I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Text

Everything Under Heaven

Disclaimer: I own nothing

A match is struck, a candle is lit, and it throws off a soft glow of warm orange light down on the rough wood of the desk.

Slowly, carefully, she dips the pen in the inkwell, before bringing her pen to the paper.

There is a pause, a moment of silence as she gazes out the window of her room. From beyond she can hear the chirping of crickets, and the creak of settling wood.

The sounds of home.

A deep breath, and she begins to write.

(X)

Being the Queen Consort, they tell Faye, is a position with responsibilities all of its own.

(Queen Consort. What a stiff, old sounding title. Whatever happened to words like 'girlfriend' or 'lover'?)

She is a symbol now, they tell her. A representative of the kingdom, standing alongside Queen Celica. She's not expected to help with the politics or the actual decision-making (and she doesn't miss the scornful glances that say 'as if you could'), but all her behaviours and actions will reflect upon Celica herself.

Celica sits, holding court, having meetings, doing her best to keep Zofia running. Meanwhile Faye is pulled away to lessons and tutorials on manners, and etiquette, and whatever it is they've decided is proper for a farmgirl-turned-queen's-lover to know.

“Sit up straighter. Slouching in a chair is bad form.”

“Your arms do not go behind your back! And stop twiddling your fingers! You need to project an image of calm and serenity at the Queen's side.”

“That will never do. Braiding your hair like that simply makes you look immature. We shall have to fix that.”

Faye bites her lip and perseveres, because the last thing she wants is to make any more trouble for Celica.

The quick smiles they can share with each other in the middle of tedious meetings and court sessions is enough to soothe her aches and bring strength to tired limbs. The moments they can snatch alone, just the two of them, away from the demands of the world, are precious treasures to be cherished.

If it's like this, it's enough. More than I could ask for.

Being with Celica gives her enough strength to face tomorrow.

She can't ask for anything more, than to remain like this.

(X)

Dearest Celica,

How have you been doing?

(X)

The picnic is held in the outskirts of the capital, on a grassy knoll that affords them a pleasant view of the castle itself.

“Just the two of us,” she had offered, and Celica had agreed to it with a quick nod and a soft smile.

She knows some of the staff had given odd looks when told that they wished to spend a day out in the fields, especially with the unspoken addition of 'and without other servants.'

Too, there had been concerns about security and leaving the Queen unprotected. Everything that the Queen wants to do can't just be 'on her own'. It needs to have others fussing, caring, intruding into it.

So in the end, it had been arranged that Gray and Tobin would be their bodyguards. They all knew each other, enough that they'd know to give Celica and Faye the privacy that they'd require\.

Faye is the one who carries the basket up the hill, as well as the mat. When Celica offers to help, she is quick to shake her head.

“Today is your day to relax,” she insists. “So no, I 'll handle this.”

“I'm not some fragile doll, you know.” Celica's tone is mild, but Faye still purses her lips at the remark.

“No, you're not. You've been working yourself to the bone trying to keep Zofia together.” And I can't help you with any of it. “You deserve a day to yourself. So just sit back and let me take care of things.”

When they arrive, Faye hurries with spreading out the mat, and bringing out the food to eat. Again, the choice of foods that Faye had packed would probably have raised some eyebrows, but Faye is more than willing to bet her knowledge of Celica's tastes against any of the royal chefs'.

Honeyed bread, still warm in the cloth Faye had wrapped them in. Grapes and peeled oranges, as fresh as they can be. Shieldfish pastries, a traditional recipe from Novis Island. A chicken pie that Faye had baked herself.

Others might have called such foods simple or rustic. To Faye, they simply remind her of home.

When Celica sees the food, she smiles too, as fond memories spark in her eyes. Her triumph is small, but it's enough to make her feel warm inside.

“It's been so long since I've had a meal like this,” Celica says as she bites into an orange slice. “The palace staff are all talented of course, but – well, the food they make can be so rich.”

They both know Celica can't just order simpler meals – at least, not often. With how many nobles and dignitaries and ambassadors Celica has to meet over dinners, she always has to keep the palates of such esteemed guests in mind. Faye knows this – she's attended a few of those meetings before, keeping quiet the whole time, desperately hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself and Celica in the process.

The food disappears quickly, and then Celica lies back on the cloth, her eyes fluttering shut and a warm, content smile on her face. Faye sits at her side and watches her, and finds a similar smile tugging at her own lips.

You've been pushing yourself so hard... not just lately. Ever since you took the crown.

“I just wanted to be able to give you the chance to rest,” she murmurs, soft enough that she won't disturb Celica's slumber.

She wants to be able to see this. Celica's face, open and relaxed. Not with brow furrowed as she reads tedious report after tedious report, not tensed and anxious as she listens to angry demands from the nobles.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, keeping a silent watch over Celica's nap. But she knows it's not long enough before a dark speck in the sky grows larger before taking the shape of a pegasus rider.

“Your majesty!” The rider blurts out once she is within earshot. “Queen Celica!”

“Hm? What?” Celica's flutter once and then she's sitting up, shaking her head and rubbing at bleary eyes. “What is it? What happened?”

“We said there were to be no interruptions!” Faye snaps, feeling irritation spike in her as she turns to regard the messenger.

“My apologies, but – it's an emergency!” The rider snaps off a hasty salute before she pulls out a scroll from her saddle bag. “We've received reports from the border! Yesterday, the western sluice gate came under attack from a force of Terrors, – and we also have reports of the Duma Faithful being sighted in the vicinity.”

Celica's expression sharpens, all trace of relaxation and languid softness gone in an instant. “All right. I'm on my way.”

She takes a half step towards the pegasus – hitching a ride is the fastest way to return – before she pauses and glances back at the scattered remains of the picnic, and a troubled expression ghosts across her face.

“It's all right,” Faye says and waves her on. “I'll clean up. I can get Gray and Tobin to help with that anyway; they'll be over in a flash once I whistle.”

Celica flashes a grateful smile – and then she is gone, flying off to deal with the problems that only she can.

After she departs, Faye heaves a sigh before she crouches and begins to pack up.

And then, she begins the long walk back to the capital.

Alone.

(X)

The flowers are blooming beautifully this year. I went to visit the fields so I could pick some flowers to decorate the house – and I was struck by how pretty everything looked. Isn't that funny? Even though I've seen it so many times before, I still found it such a breathtaking sight. All those reds and blues and pink and golds, all swaying together in the summer breeze.

In fact, I was so overcome by the sight that I decided to just nap for a while amongst the flowers. It wasn't like I had anything else to do for the day. Going to sleep with your arms and cheeks tickled by the stalks around you is really relaxing, somehow. I know you used to love doing that too.

(X)

The next few days are spent in a state of anxious haste.

Reinforcements are needed to ensure that the last of the Terrors are hunted down, as are the Faithful's arcanists responsible for this. Dame Mathilda and Saber ride off at daybreak, with the knowledge that they can do little more than damage control – the trail will certainly be cold by the time they arrive.

Irate nobles, particularly those with estates in the north, rant about making Rigel answer for this insult. Celica's insistence that the perpetrators are extremists who no longer have favour in Rigel's government fall on deaf ears.

“If they can't govern their own affairs properly, why should we suffer for it without recompense?” they demand.

Diplomatic overtures are another issue. Celica has to thread the needle of requesting Rigel to do more to help prevent such attacks, without making it look like she is blaming her neighbour for standing by and doing nothing. Conrad, freshly returned from another trip to the north, rubs his forehead and reports that while Sage Halcyon is sympathetic, many of the Rigelian nobles that now make up the country's government chafe at the thought of being in debt to Zofia – or being forced to acknowledge that their country had been the aggressor during the war.

All this, and winter looms as well, and everyone fights down unease at the thought of whether they had done enough now that the land is no longer blessed, whether there will be sufficient supplies for the long months of cold and darkness.

Faye understand more now, simply because she sits and waits at Celica's side, watching her as she struggles not to wilt under the pressure.

And because, because she understands more, she also understands how little she can do.

She has no voice, no standing in the court. She has no experience in handling such matters. She has no idea where to even start learning enough so that she can help at all.

“Be seen, not heard,” her tutors tell her. Smile, look pretty (by which they mean, as pretty as a farm girl with callused hands and tanned cheeks and a scar on your neck can possibly be), don't do anything that could possibly upset the dignitaries or nobles that the Queen is entertaining.

Be still. Be silent.

The most you can do to help is to not do anything.

Because that's all she's good for.

When meetings go poorly, when arguments end unresolved, and when troubles loom (as they always seem to, of late), Faye can only sit there, feeling useless.

Celica's is Zofia's light. A candle in the darkness, offering the faint promise that they will be able to make their way to a better future.

But then, can Faye be Celica's light in turn?

Only when they are alone, only when Celica allows her shoulders to slump and Faye to hold her in her arms to slowly try to massage strength and warmth into her back, does she feel like she's doing something, anything at all.

Only when they close the doors to the rest of the world, when Faye holds Celica tight (as if trying to keep her from falling apart), pressing their bodies into each other. That comfort is all she can provide.

It's not enough.

Celica needs someone stronger, someone who can stand by her side instead of in her shadow.

Alm could have done it, she thinks. Alm would have been able to stand at her side, and to properly support her.

But she is not Alm. Not the Alm of her memories, the boy she had lionized in the belief that he could accomplish anything, succeed at everything she put his mind to, the person so much greater, so much more than she was. Nor the Alm of reality, the fallible human who nonetheless would have risen and grown, and sought to match the challenges placed before him.

She is Faye – simple, unassuming, villager Faye. She can't take Alm's place, no matter how badly she would have wanted to.

Right now, in this moment of time, she may be the person Celica wants.

But she can't be the person Celica needs.

Every touch, every trembling kiss Celica lays on her burns like fire on her skin.

(X)

The harvest was strong this year as well. I hear our wine is even starting to be imported to Archanea! That's so far away, I can barely even think about what that means. I remember you used to have ambassadors from those lands come over once in a while, seeking trade agreements. I hope those talks are still going well.

Our sheep are doing well too. I hear they've started selling our wool all the way in the capital. I mean, I always loved the clothes my nan made for me with them, but I never really thought about them being high quality enough for nobles.

Well, come to think of it, some of the clothes I used to wear in the palace came from Ram too, didn't they?

(X)

“Ride with me?” Gray's invitation is somewhat unexpected - his duties have kept them from talking as much as they'd like – but the prospect of an afternoon spent with a friend is a pleasant one and Faye finds herself agreeing after a moment's thought.

The colours of fall are all around them as they navigate the forest trail, and the wind now has a chilling bite to it too. Faye finds herself grateful for the thick cloak wrapped around her shoulders.

For a while, they travel in comfortable silence, simply soaking in the beauty of nature as they venture deeper.

Eventually they reach their destination, a bluff that overlooks the castle. The sun is just dipping into the horizon, and after a moment Faye finds herself staring out at it.

The fiery redness reminds her of Celica's hair.

The moment passes, and she rouses herself, turning back to Gray with a smile. “This really is a lovely place. How'd you find out about it?”

“Eh,” he shrugs and offers a slight smile. “They expect you to know the lay of the land as a knight. But yeah, this really is a nice spot.”

Faye settles herself on the grass, throwing her legs out and leaning back on her palms. Gray takes his own places, settling against a tree, and for a moment, there is silence.

“How're things?” Faye is the first to break it. “With Clair, I mean?”

“Same old, same old.” A chuckle, and an easy grin steals across her face. “Still figuring out how and when to pop the question, though.”

“The question?” And her eyes widen in recognition. “You're going to propose!”

“Keep it down, you want all of Zofia to know?” The smile doesn't fade. “But yeah... once I find the right time... and probably the right place.”

“Well, once you do, make sure you let me and Tobin know about it too!”

“That's a promise.” Gray lets the statement hang in the air for a moment, before he shrugs. “And you? How're things with Celica?”

The mere mention of it sends a complicated rush of emotions through her, and though she fights to keep it from showing, she can tell by the look on Gray's face that she isn't as successful as she'd like.

She finds she can't put her reply into words, but somehow, it also feels like Gray understands.

Well, he did tend to be more perceptive than she usually remembers to give him credit for.

“You know, back when you ended up finding each other, I was real glad for that.” He glances down at the ground, and a flash of unguarded emotion crosses his face. “Alm, he... well, he was my friend too. But he held a special place in both of your hearts. Seeing the both of you, so close to each other, helping each other heal... it made me happy too. Made me think maybe recovering and moving on wasn't just a pipe dream, for all of us.”

She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath.

“I just feel... so useless like this, Gray. I want to help her, but it's like... I don't know. Trying to learn how to swim when you're already being dragged under by the current. I've no idea how to even begin.”

“Celica depends on you, you know. It's hard for her-”

“Of course I know! You think you've seen her exhausted? That's Celica when she's doing her best to stay strong. You don't – when she's behind closed doors, she-” Faye cuts herself off and shakes her head, the memory of Celica's arms wrapped around her still shockingly fresh and vivid. “Oh, gods. It hurts, Gray. It hurts. Being the closest person to her, seeing her so worn out, and I can't – I can't... do anything. I can't help her.”

Another silence.

“You really do love her, don't you?” Gray's voice is rueful.

She closes her eyes, pressed one hand to her forehead. “I wouldn't still be here if I didn't.”

For a moment, her thoughts flash towards Ram. After everything, after so long... she still can't help but consider it home.

She closes her eyes for a moment, and takes a deep breath before opening them. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember those fairy tales our parents used to tell us?”

“What? You mean like knights, and princesses and all that?”

“Yeah. Stories where they had to go slay a dragon... and a humble little village girl catches the eye of the prince or king and she ends up marrying into royalty and becoming a princess.”

Gray lets out a tiny snort and shakes her head. “Well, when you put it like that, seems like those fairy tales can hit a little too close to home.”

And Faye snorts too.

“Well, you know. In those stories, they kept talking about how true love conquers all.” She hugs her knees closer to her chest and lowers her gaze, away from the sunset. “Whatever happened to all that?”

Leaves rustle in the wind, the only sound to break the silence.

And then, a sigh.

“Well, our gods are dead. Maybe the fairy tales went away with them, too.”

The wind picks up just then, and a sudden flurry of leaves rush in around the two of them as they sit and gaze towards an uncertain future.

(X)

We've also started on planting new crops, and it's maize this time around. Honestly, I'm still not quite sure how this rotating crop business works, but I can't deny that it helps. We can't quite reach the amounts we harvested back when we still had the Earth Mother's Blessings, but it's still more than enough for all of us to get by.

Speaking of which, the grape harvest festival will be starting soon. I remember you only ever attended the one, way back when we were both children, didn't you? Do you still remember what it's like? I can still remember you, staring wide-eyed at the barrels we brought out to collect and harvest all the wine.

Sometimes, I wish I could invite you back here, to experience those sorts of things again.

(X)

“Celica, are you in there?” Faye knocks on the door once, twice.

“Come in, Faye.” As opens the door and enters the room, her gaze is briefly arrested by the sight of snow falling beyond the window.

But then her gaze returns to Celica at her desk, pen in hand as she looks over a stack of reports, and she swallows.

“Are you busy? I was... I wanted to talk to you.”

She glances at her current report, and lays her pen down. “No, it's fine. As a matter of fact, I had something I wanted to say to you, too.”

And suddenly Faye feels a rush of nervousness, and not for the first time she wonders if she really has any right to speak about it.

But the words burn in her chest, and she swallows.

“You're – you can't keep going on like this.”

Her words hang in the air for a quiet eternal moment, before Celica glances down.

“I see,” her tone is oddly muted. “What a coincidence.”

And for a moment, Faye isn't sure how to feel as Celica takes a deep breath.

“I was planning on saying the same to you.”

The world seems to still for a moment, and Faye blinks, shaking her head, trying to clear away her confusion. “What – what do you mean?”

A moment ago, the path had seemed sure. Talk to Celica, convince her to take a rest, that if she burned herself out she'd benefit no one, not Zofia, not Faye and certainly not herself.

But all of a sudden everything has been upended, and she isn't sure how to respond.

“You're hurting yourself like this.” Celica's doesn't raise her gaze to meet Faye's – suddenly Faye gets the impression that she can't bring herself to. “Staying here... just for my sake.”

“What?” There's more, so much more that needs to be said, but the words won't come, and suddenly she feels dizzy from the onslaught of emotions, of questions.

“I can see it, you know. No matter how long it's been, you don't want to be here.” Celica now shifts her gaze to look out the window. “You're still – you miss Ram, don't you?”

“Of course I do!” The words tumble out of her mouth, with perhaps more force than she had anticipated. “But I'm here now! I'm not going back! Celica, I chose you.”

“I know you did.” She's closing her eyes now, biting her lip, doing her best to remain level and calm. “And... I'm grateful. I was happy you decided to be with me, Faye. I truly was, and... I still am. But it wasn't the right choice.”

“You don't get to say that.” Anger now, mixed with worry and desperation that fuels her words and actions as she walks – fairly storms – across the room, closer to Celica. “You're not the one who gets to tell me that loving you was a mistake!”

“I can see it, Faye! It's in your eyes! Every day, you worry, every day, you fret. Every day you try to squeeze yourself into the shape of being some sort of noble lady so the court will accept you! It's not you! It's not who you are-”

“And I'm doing it so I can be with you! I'm worrying so I won't reflect badly on you, and so there won't be any reasons for others to mock you for being seen with me! I can do more, Celica. I should be doing more-”

For a moment, fear grips her heart. She hasn't done enough, she's not good enough for Celica, she isn't, she isn't-

But then Celica is there, and her face fills her vision.

“No, listen to me, Faye! Listen to me!” Celica's hand seizes her, holding it tightly enough that it almost starts to hurt. “I am not worth sacrificing your happiness for, Faye! I'm not! No one is.”

Faye bites her lip, almost as much in an attempt to stop the words that lie on the tip of her tongue. But they tumble out, almost before she is aware of speaking at all.

“But Zofia is worth you sacrificing yours?”

Celica gives no answer, save for lowering her head, and her shoulders shaking slightly.

And that is an answer, all on its own.

Faye steps forwards, clutches at Celica with trembling hands, and cries.

(X)

Sometimes I wonder if I'm being selfish like this, sending you this letter, reminding you of everything. Would it hurt you, to read this and be reminded? I can't say for sure, but somehow, I think so.

But if this is selfishness, this is a selfishness that comes out of my love for you.

Even though it's been so long, I still love you, Celica. I don't let go of my loves easily.

Even if I can't be with you, even if our paths diverge. For your sake, and for my own.

(X)

The night is clear and silent. The breeze is cool, carrying with it the smells of thaw and the first hints of spring.

Faye finds herself staring up at the night sky, at the lights twinkling in the distance.

“Are you sure you don't want an escort?”

She looks over her shoulder, at Celica. She manages a slight shake of her head.

“No, it's fine. Southward travel has been safe for the last season, and anyway I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. But...” Celica's voice trails off. She still worries. She still cares.

She still wants to give of herself. Even more than she can afford.

Faye takes a deep breath, before glancing at her horse, it's dun coat barely discernible in the grey light of the predawn.

“So... this is it, then?”

And for a moment, just a moment, Celica looks so forlorn. So vulnerable.

So alone.

Ask me to stay, she asks, a silent plea. Sa y the word, ask me to stay and I will. As long as you want me to, as long as I can support you, I'll stay.

But that's the problem, isn't it? Celica would never ask for that. Celica would never allow someone else to sacrifice anything for her sake.

“I suppose it is.” And despite the pain in her eyes, Celica keeps her voice steady.

It's wrong. It's all wrong. Leaving like this. Leaving Celica behind. Hurting.

But if she stays, she hurts Celica in an entirely different way.

“Celica?” Her voice is soft as she reaches out a hand, running a thumb against her cheek. One last touch, one last caress.

“What is it?” Celica's own voice is soft now too, barely a whisper as Faye leans in.

Their lips brush, and Faye can't help the ache in her heart that suddenly flares.

“Please, promise me this, at least.”

Even if it's not with me. Even if I can't be the one to do it-

(X)

Please, try to be happy.

With all my Love,

Faye.

Chapter End

Chapter Text

Everything Under Heaven

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Healing takes time.

It always does.

But healing happens, regardless.

Rigel and Zofia continue to work together. Knowledge from the north is passed down – of how to till the land, of growing crops in rotation so the land is not overfarmed, of fertilizing the soil to increase yields. In turn, Zofia, whose soil remains more fertile still, sends what crop they can spare to their neighbour, doing what they can to ease the transition to a land without gods.

The brigands who continue to roam the land and prey on the unwary are quelled. Time and effort is dedicated to not just driving them off but stamping out the hideouts they lurk in. Celica offers clemency and mercy to those who will come quietly, and many of them take the offer, happy for a chance at honest work.

The royal coffers are opened, that the country may properly rebuild. Roads are repaired, towns are expanded, walls are reinforced. The land still suffers the scars of war. The people need to feel safe, in their own homes.

One step forward, every day. One problem handled at a time.

Queen Celica remains at the centre of it all, calling meetings, making decisions and proclamations, a mediating voice amongst conflicting ones, trying to stamp out problems before they can grow, directing aid to where it is most needed.

Some say she appears driven, unwilling to ever let Zofia suffer as it had before, first under the rule of Lima and then later under Rigel's boot. She pours everything she has into the recovery of her beloved homeland.

Others, closer to her, quietly wonder if she buries herself in her work to distract herself from the ache in her heart, of loves lost.

But quiet wondering is all they do.

None of them will speak to her of it.

After all, it's not their place.

Letters come, often enough. They speak of Ram, and harvests, and other mundane things. Celica keeps them in a carved wooden box on her desk. Often, during the scant moments of free time that Celica has, she reads and rereads them, eyes flitting across the worn paper and drinking in every word.

And just as often, Celica sits at her desk, a pen in hand, a sheet of paper lying on the polished wood. The paper remains empty, and she remains staring down at it. She longs to reply, to pour out everything she feels into her return letter.

Yet she can't bring herself to do it.

Would it just hurt the both of them more? The refusal to let go of the past?

You're not letting go anyway , she chides herself. If you truly wanted to let go of your past, what do you mean by storing all of Faye's lettters and rereading them so often?

But still she doesn't stop. She can't bring herself to do that, either.

Celica works.

The land heals.

And the letters continue to come.

(X)

She stirs, and finds herself staring up at the canopy of her bed. Not for the first time, she reflects that it's far too large for a single person.

With a deep sigh, she sits up in her bed, feeling her muscles burn with fatigue as she blinks away lingering drowsiness.

A knock on the door. Celica straightens up slightly, unconsciously trying to shut away any signs of weakness, and calls for the person to enter.

She isn't entirely sure who she expected to see when the door swings open – but she knows it isn't Mae.

“Mae? What are you doin-” Her question is interrupted by a coughing fit. As if by magic, a maid slips smoothly into the room, a glass of warm water in her hands.

She drinks, partly to soothe her throat and partly because she is uncomfortably aware that Mae is standing there, not-quite-glaring at her.

“What am I doing here?” The question bursts out the instant Celica lowers the cup from her lips. The maid retreats just as quietly, shutting the door behind her with nary a whisper of sound. If nothing else, they know when they need to be discreet. “The whole country is exploding with news of you collapsing halfway through your speech, and you expect me to not show up?” She pauses, folds her arms and jerks her head. “Boey wanted to come too. But running the priory has him absolutely swamped with work. So I told him I'd nag you enough for the both of us.”

She can't quite find anything to say in reply, and so she chooses to look away instead.

Evidently Mae is not satisfied by this answer because she steps even closer and leans down. “You know what Saber told me when I asked about you? You're pushing yourself too hard. Everyone can see it.”

“It's not like I have any choice,” for a moment, her mind replays the vast numbers of tasks she still had to do. More documents to sign, more meetings to attend. More. “I'm the Queen. It's my job.”

I'm the Queen. She could still remember a time when she had felt utterly lost in the sea of her newfound duties. Each and every challenge had her wondering how anyone felt qualified to tackle such things. Apprehension and dismay had wormed in her gut.

Nowadays, what she feels is mostly a sense of weary resignation when she sees the piles of work cluttering her desk each day.

“The point of ruling the country is that you can get other people to do things for you!” Mae's anger burns bright, but it deflates almost as quickly. She sighs, settles herself down on the side of the bed. “You're always like that, you know that, Celica? Always taking on more. Always thinking that you have to shoulder the burden – that you gotta do it yourself.”

“I don't like it either, Mae. But it is my responsibility. I can't change that.” Even now, after so many years, she can still remember the voices. Mila's final statement that the land would now rest in the hands of man. Alm's plea that he look after everyone for her.

She can remember Faye. The anguish in her eyes when Celica had told her they would need to part ways.

“You ever heard of a happy medium?” Mae's snort brings her back to reality. “Yeah, work's work, and somebody's gotta do it. But you'll just burn yourself out like this.” A pause, and Mae tilts her head slightly. “Why are you overworking yourself so hard, anyway? Zofia's on the up, isn't it? I mean, Novis isn't exactly the centre of the world, but even we get news from the mainland every once in a while. Things are getting better. Why are you pushing yourself even more?”

There is an answer, but it's not one Celica really wants to share, and so she hangs her head.

And of course, Mae knows her well enough to guess anyway.

“Are you just trying to distract yourself?”

She still can't bring herself to reply, and so instead she swallows hard, past the sudden tightness in her throat.

“I mean, I know nuts about that Faye girl you ended up with, but your letters to me were always gushing about how sweet she is and how caring she could be... until they stopped coming, anyway.” She coughs once. “Look, I don't wanna say I gossip and all that, but I kept my ear to the ground. Enough to know that you were head over heels for her. And that you pushed her away in the end. That had to hurt.”

“Being in the palace just brought pain to her.” That much is true, at least. Faye had tried her best, but it was always plain to see that her heart still belonged in Ram Village.

And as she speaks she tries to force down the tiny whisper that asks where her own heart belongs.

“You're not gonna tell me that you're jumping for joy here, yourself?”

“What I want isn't important. Zofia-”

“The hell it isn't!” Mae leans over now, grasping her hand. “Celica, you've already given so much to everyone-”

“It's not enough-”

“And I knew you were gonna say it's not enough and you know what? I know about as much as running a country as I do about riding a pegasus, so maybe you're right! So here's my question! How much is enough? What's the point where you can sit back, heave a sigh, and say 'my work here is done'?”

There is no such point, and Celica knows that Mae knows that. Running a country is not a job one can say is 'completed', ever.

She knows that.

She's always known that.

Yet somehow, it is only at that moment Celica does reflect, soberly, on what lies ahead. Year upon year, without end.

Looking back at the past. Unwilling to contemplate a future.

A castle that only grows colder every year.

She closes her eyes and lets out a long, shuddering breath.

“I'm tired,” she finally says.

And she is. Tired in mind, body, soul.

“Yeah, I gues you would be.” Mae's body language is gentler now, almost tender as she reaches over, gently pressing Celica back onto the bed. “All right. Get some rest, okay? We can talk more later.”

As her head come to rest upon the pillow, Celica closes her eyes, and dreams.

(X)

It takes a good long while for her to come to a decision.

It takes longer still for her to tell anyone else about it.

“Well good for you,” Conrad replies. Something like a warm smile plays across his face.

“Good for me?” Celica repeats with a raised eyebrow and a wry smile as she lifts her teacup to her lips. Even the simple act of letting Conrad know had felt like a weight being lifted from her shoulders – although she had also been worried about his reaction. The smile reassures her that she's not making a mistake.

This is the right thing to do.

“Well,” he runs a hand through his hair, “It's not like I wasn't able to tell you weren't happy in your role – or that you were pushing yourself way too hard.” A sigh as he settles himself back in his chair. “Honestly I wish I could been in the capital more often to watch out for you – but the latest set of trade agreements between us and Rigel have had me running ragged.”

“Don't be silly. There was never any need for that.”

Conrad raises an eyebrow and pointedly avoids mentioning the faint that had been the trigger for the whole affair. Instead he says, “It was never about need, Celica. I just wanted to be there for you. As your brother.”

Another silence, and a sharing of awkward smiles before Conrad lets out his breath. “And what happens after this?”

Yes, that had always been the issue, hadn't it? Celica opens her mouth, closes it again.

The village calls to her.

Faye calls to her.

And yet... yet she's not sure she should go.

She's not sure if she'd be welcome there.

“Will you head south?” It's not like Conrad doesn't know. His question is blunt and Celica can only manage a rueful smile in response. “To Ram?”

“I drove her away.” Once more, Faye's crestfallen expression looms in her memory and Celica blinks her eyes, trying to push it away. “I have no right to seek her out after that.”

“I think you deserve to be happy,” Conrad's expression is sincere. “And if you think you've wronged her, then she's also the one who can decide to forgive you for it or not. It's probably best for both parties to be clear on where they stand.”

Celica manages a snort of her own. “Spoken like a true diplomat.”

“Rigelians tend to appreciate plain language, I've found,” Conrad blows out a weary sigh. “Now that I've spent more time in the court, I can see the appeal.”

“... I'm sorry.” Celica manages a shake of her head. “When I step down, I'm going to be leaving you holding the bag.”

“You've done all the hard work already, sis. If anything, I'll be the one enjoying the fruits of your labour. So, thanks.”

(X)

The rumours have ample time to swirl, flare up, and then get firmly entrenched in the minds of the populace, long before the actual announcement.

After all, abdicating the throne is not something one can do without preparation beforehand.

Some meet the news with surprise, verging on outrage. Why now, just when the land is healing, and people are truly starting to enjoy peace and plenty once more?

Others say that it speaks to the Queen's moral character, that it shows she has no real desire for power. She worked long enough to stabilize the nation, and is now content to step aside.

Still others, closer to Celica, see the bags under her eyes and are simply glad for her sake.

Even after the announcement, even after the ceremony, Celica lingers. Transitions of power can be messy. She wants to make sure that everyone can handle everything, even after she is gone.

And all the time she fights down the growing anxiety and restlessness as her thoughts turn ever southward.

It's funny. For so longer, the ache had been dull. She had been able to worry about other things, and to leave it as something in the distant past – or in moments of weakness, perhaps a future yet to come.

But now that she's here, on the cusp of taking that first step south-

She feels like she's ready to burst.

Finally, the day comes. Mae and Boey had come over just to see her off. And Conrad is there too, the thin circlet of his office now resting lightly on his temple.

“Stay safe,” Boey's smile is warm, and Celica finds herself returning it.

“Give Faye a hug for me! And a smooch too!” And Celica can't help the slight flush that comes to her cheeks at the thought of seeing her again.

“Please. Be happy.” Conrad's voice is soft as he wraps her in a warm embrace. She nods, and tries to ignore the prickling in her eyes.

“I will,” she assures him.

And then she mounts her horse – ready for the journey south.

(X)

The woods of Fleecer's Forest are familiar – hauntingly so.

Yet Celica can barely concentrate enough to follow the path ahead.

“We'll be reaching soon.”

She raises her head and gives a quick nod to that remark. “Thank you. For the notice... and for coming with me all this way.”

“Come on,” Gray rolls his eyes. “Like we're any stranger to escorting bigwigs around. A month or so without Sir Lukas breathing down our necks about drills – and we get to visit Ram again? You're practically doing Tobin and I a favour, your maaaj-” He trails off and bites his lip.

Celica reins in the laugh. “I'm not your majesty anymore. You know it.”

“Sorry, force of habit.” Gray blows a puff of air out, and his smile is sardonic “But you're still part of the royal family, aren't you? Doesn't feel right not addressing you with a title.”

A moment's silence, and she draws in a breath.

“I think I prefer just being Celica.”

Any response Gray would have made is cut off by Tobin's excited shout. She lifts her head, and she sees – through a gap in the trees, she can see the gate.

Ram Village.

Home?

Their appearance in the town square draws stares from every corner. Some recognize her, of course, but others are simply awed by the sight of people clad in rich robes and riding steeds through the main gate.

For her part, Celica spends a while simply starng at the place around her. So much of it seems familiar, yet not. She can see the well, recently repaired. The rows of orange trees that line the paths.

There's a small monument in the centre of the square, a sword and a shield carved from stone. It takes her a moment to realize that it's a memorial to Alm, and she has to bite her lip to keep any expression from showing on her face.

Still, she doesn't linger for long. Her destination is just ahead.

Soon, she is just on the outskirts of Faye's garden. Celica has a moment to muse that it looks just like how she remembers it – well, it doesn't appear quite as large as it was when she was a child.

She's on the verge of dismounting when the door to the cottage swings open, and Faye steps out, an empty bucket in hand.

A long moment passes, the two of them silently staring at each other.

She wonders how she appears – astride a white horse, a travelling cape of deep russet draped over her shoulders, the evening sun casting a halo of fire from her back.

Faye looks... ordinary. Her dress is dirt-stained, and she can see frayed threads along the hem. Her hair has now been tied up into a single braid that she hangs off her shoulder. Her face has a recently healed cut along one side of it, and her eyes are weary – but they still shine with the same stubborn determination she remembers so well.

All at once Celica finds her breath taken away.

“Hi.” It's all she can manage, at that exact moment.

“Celica?” Faye's voice is questioning.

She's vaguely aware of Gray nudging Tobin and the two of them moving away, possibly to meet their own folks and to give her the time and space she needs before they have their own reunion with their childhood friend.

But right now, all her attention is taken up by Faye. Standing in front of her, larger than life.

Slowly, mechanically, almost unaware of how she's moving, Celica climbs down from her horse, and takes a single step closer. It's all she dares to do for now.

Faye doesn't retreat. But she doesn't move closer, either.

A moment passes. Then another.

“I heard,” Faye finally says after a moment. “About you stepping down, I mean. It was kind of hard not to.”

“Yes, I... I wanted to come see you.”

Faye blinks, and her brow furrows, as if she's not entirely sure how the two statements are related. Before anything can be clarified, however, there's the sound of scrabbling nails against wood, and something dashes – fairly tumbles out – from the inside of the house.

“Rufus, no! Stay, boy! Stay!” Her calls halt the creature – a dog, Celica realizes – in its tracks and it glances back and forth between Celica and Faye, practically vibrating with pent up energy.

“You got a dog?” It may not be the most relevant question, but the sheer unexpected nature of it makes her blurt it out.

“Well, yeah.” She claps her hand once and the dog – Rufus – scampers over, letting Faye pick it up gently. “Mom thought we could do with a guard dog. Of course the closest he ever gets to being a guard for the place is demanding ear scratches from anyone who passes by.”

Celica lets out a short chuckle and suddenly – just like that, the tension dissipates. It's not entirely gone, but Faye's smile is easier as she shifts her weight and tries to ignore Rufus licking at her ear. “Come on inside. It'll be time for dinner soon.”

(X)

Dinner is a stew of some kind, made with potatoes and peas and corn. It's delicious, but Celica can't really concentrate on the food.

Faye's parents aren't present at the dinner table. They're visiting another friend's house, Faye tells her, and Celica suspects it's because they know their daughter will definitely want some private time with the new visitor.

So they eat, and make small talk about how life has been in Ram, and Celica smiles to herself when she sees Faye tossing scraps to Rufus on the floor.

“Dinner was fantastic,” Celica finally says as she pushes the bowl away and stands to help clear the table.

“I'm glad you liked it.” Faye smiles at her, but there's still something about that smile that seems off. A little too guarded, too wary.

A silence falls, heavy with anticipation. As she finishes putting the bowls away, Celica takes a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” she finally says.

“What for?” Faye raises an eyebrow and Celica fights the urge to gnaw at her lip.

For sending you away. That's her first thought but some part of her silences herself before she can speak it. Instead she shakes her head once. “For... not replying to your letters.”

Faye doesn't reply immediately. One hand drifts up and begins playing with a lock of her hair. “I did wonder if they ever reached you at all.”

“... I'm sorry,” she says again. “But I didn't – At that time, I thought... I still thought it was too sentimental of me. And... I felt that I needed – we both would be better off if we made a clean break.”

“But you stepped down. And then you came here.”

“Yes, I suppose I did.” She draws in another deep breath, trying to calm herself.

What is it you want, Celica?

“I missed you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted to see you again.”

“Me leaving was your idea.” Faye's tone is matter-of-fact. She can't sense any accusation, nor anger in those words.

They hurt, more than a thousand curses ever could.

“It wasn't the correct... I... we-” She fumbles her words, nervousness stilling her tongue.

It's funny.

As a queen, each statement had been measured and precise. Calculated to help convince an ambassador, encourage the populace, win hearts and minds.

How long had it been since she had been able to simply speak from the heart?

She has no grand speeches. No advisors with complex, thought out plans.

She just has a plea and a prayer.

A deep breath and she takes one step closer to Faye. Under the moonlight, her face is still. Inscrutable. But she does not step away.

Celica had been able to read it, once. Every slight twitch or furrowing of her brows or quirking of her lips.

Had it really been so long?

She takes a deep breath.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you away. I – I'd like to start over, try again, if - if it's...” She swallows, hard, and her next breath comes out as a gasp. “Can we try again?”

Another silence, and Celica worries. She's almost braced herself for the rejection when suddenly, she sees it.

A tear, rolling down Faye's cheek.

“... Faye? Is something...”

Faye reaches up to wipe at her face, and as she does so, Celica suddenly sees that her shoulders are trembling.

“Try again?” Faye's voice is soft, as if she's working hard to restrain it, keep it under control. “I've never stopped loving you, Celica. Not ever.”

And all at once, she realizes that she's been reading the situation wrong, still. That what she had taken as reserved, distant behaviour on Faye's part – had actually been attempts to rein in the emotion thundering just under the surface.

“Do you know?” Faye continues as she takes a deep breath. “I kept wondering what I did wrong. If – if I'd practised more, or – or trained harder. Would you still have pushed me away? If I'd been able to better change myself into the person you needed me to be-”

“No!” Celica's vehemence surprises herself as she steps forward “I didn't want anyone else! You didn't need to change. I wanted you, Faye! That's the person I fell in love with in the first place! You didn't need to try to change yourself for my sake.”

Passion and impulse spurs her on, and she finds herself reaching forward, drawing Faye into an embrace. Faye doesn't resist, and leans into her shoulder.

For a long moment, they remain like that, holding each other close.

“I just wanted Faye,” she draws in a deep breath. “I love everything about you. But I... I couldn't just be Celica for you. Not as long as I wore the crown.”

“And how about now?” Faye's voice is muffled as she speaks into Celica's shoulder.

“... I don't know,” Celica admits. “I'm not a queen anymore. I just know I wanted to see you again. To be with you again. And... will you have me? Will you let me... be with you, once more?”

Faye doesn't respond for a long moment. Finally, she pulls back – and she is smiling through her tears.

“Yes. Of course yes. Be with me now. Just be Celica.” One hand reaches, lightly, lovingly carressing her cheek. “Be my Celica.”

Something about those words, about the way Faye says them – a knot in Celica's chest unravels, with a snap, and she now has to blink through a vision blurred by tears.

“Faye...” She utters the name. “Faye!”

She is here now. All she ever wanted.

They kiss, deep and fierce, and Celica presses Faye close, burning a memory both old and new into her flesh.

Tomorrow, there will be so much to do, as she settles back into the village she remembers and loves.

But now, right now, there is just the two of them. Celica, and Faye.

Together again, after so long apart.

She doesn't want this moment to ever end.

Story End

Author's Note: This story kind of got away from me a little and I ended up feeling that it really needed to be longer than it ultimately turned out to be to properly flesh out the whole situation I created from the aftermath of the fight.

That said I hope you still enjoyed reading it!

I'm also planning to maybe do some oneshot sequels to this story, but that's very much in the preliminary planning stage, so we'll see.

In any case, thanks for reading! Comments and criticisms are always welcome!