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Birds sang in the Chocobo Forest, songbirds in full voice, the shrill calls of waterbirds, and every now and then the piercing cry of a hawk.
Tailfeather sat on the edge of the forest, a gathering place for the hunters who made their living trapping and taming wild chocobos, all who respected the forest were welcome here. For Merle it was usually a place of peace and reflection.
Not today.
She sat on a rock, her back against the massive root of a caelum tree, her sword leaning against her knee. Lovingly she ran an oily cloth against the Deathbringer’s blade, cleaning the remains of blood from the steel.
At least it was quiet behind the stables, away from people. Beside her slept her own chocobo, the white-feathered Libra, while her anima daughters, Aettir and Priwen fluttered about her.
Merle finally looked up, her gaze seeking Sidurgu, Rielle, and her husband Taishelo. She smiled at the sight of them talking quietly, though at the sight of the boy, Myste, that smile faded. He looked up and she quickly turned her eyes back to her blade.
The knight heard him approach, pain welled up in her.
“You grimace every time you look at me.”
“It is not your doing, child.” Wasn’t it? He had to have come from her, just like Fray. “You remind me of someone.” Merle smiled faintly, “A dear friend of mine.”
Myste looked at her, “Forgive me… Forgive me, I don’t mean to cause you any more pain.”
“No one can change how they are born,” She told him, “I cannot.” Sidurgu and Rielle had wandered over and were waiting a polite distance away, Merle wondered where Taishelo had gone.
“Your friend is dead, isn’t he.”
“Yes,” Rage flared in her, “and don’t you dare conjure his visage for me! Do so and, child or no, I will split you in two!” As quickly as it rose her anger subsided, “He is dead, nothing can change that.”
Myste looked at her, those eyes, so like his , searching hers, “But wouldn’t you want to say things to him?”
“What would I say?” Merle asked, “He knew that I loved him, that he was well nigh as dear to me as Taishelo. Even now his spirit walks beside me, I know this.”
Rielle moved closer, “Who was he?”
“A proud knight of Ishgard.” Merle sighed, “He was struck down by Ser Zephirin, Archimandrite of the Heaven’s Ward. He took a blow meant for me, and I have begged his forgiveness many times for the fact that it did not find its mark in my flesh.”
“You… you would have died for him?” Myste asked, almost in wonder.
“Yes,” Merle nodded, “I would have done. He was a fool, a stupid, romantic fool, but I loved him. As he lay dying,” she looked up at Myste again, “he asked me to forgive him, for he could not bear the thought of losing me. I did so, yet how could he forgive me for not seeing Zephirin? I who was trained as an archer, yet rushed blindly after my prey,” A soft, broken chuckle, “a vainglorious fool indeed.”
“This pain,” Myste whispered, “it consumes you, eats you away from within, if anything could be done to ease it…”
“Stop.” Merle commanded, “His family never blamed me for what happened, nor my husband. His father treats me as his own daughter, and his older brother calls me his sister. As a part of his House I will protect the people and the city he held so dear.”
“His House?” Sidurgu finally spoke, “What was his name?”
“Haurchefant Greystone,” Merle smiled softly, “of House Fortemps.”
“I thought you said that you were no longer a ward of theirs.”
“I am not,” She shrugged, the gesture came too easily, “I am a daughter of that House now, nothing will change that.”
As Sidurgu grumbled and turned away Myste stepped a little closer, “But if you could see him again…”
“What would it change?” Merle asked him, “Death is death, an illusion will not salve my pain nor change the fact that he was struck down in my stead. He knows , he must know, that I would have given my life for his. I honour his memory, that is all I can do.”
“But…”
“Leave me, Myste, please.” Merle looked at Rielle, “Could you show him the chocobos or something, Rielle.”
“Of course,” Rielle nodded, taking Myste’s hand and practically dragging him away.
As soon as he was out of sight Merle shuddered, closing her eyes, tears streaking down her face. “Gods… Why did you have to look so like him?”
She looked up as Sidurgu placed a firm hand between her shoulder blades, a deliberate, silent, gesture of comfort even though his face was grim. Merle smiled wanly at him, “Thank you my friend.”
“We will face this Merle, together.” He said, as stern as ever, “Thrice more and you will have reclaimed the aether he stole.”
Thrice more… a whisper in her thoughts told her that there was no more need for this charade. She shut it out, thrice more, then this would all be over.