Chapter Text
The funeral comes after the coronation, and Hector never ceases to find it odd how quickly Ostia can go from celebrating to mourning.
He had requested they be on the same day, of course; no point in celebrating the new marquess’ life without acknowledging the previous one’s death, and he had wanted Eliwood to be there for it. Now that they’re both stepping into their new positions, there’s no telling when the next time he’ll see his old friend will be; Lyn is there all the time, of course, because Caelin is part of Ostia now (that’s his first task as marquess, actually), but Eliwood—
—well, he’ll miss their sparring, to say the least. That won’t be happening for a while.
Alongside Eliwood, of course, is Ninian; as per Pheraen tradition, they both wear all black, whereas Lyn dons Lorcan funeral attire; Lyn cries, as she does, and even Eliwood can’t help but shed a few tears—reasonable, of course; Uther was as much a brother to Eliwood as he was to Hector—
—but Hector doesn’t cry. He didn’t when Uther died, and he certainly has no intention to now.
(And Lyn hates it, and he knows she does, but he must be strong. He must. Like Uther.
It’s what he would have wanted, he believes. After all, they were brothers—they are—were, he supposes—all they had, and Uther is gone, so he must believe.
It’s all he has.)
And it’s painful, for sure, to look into the face of his own brother and know that he’s not really there; it’s just the remnants of him that are left behind, and no matter how much makeup the noble ladies put on him to try to make him seem alive again, he’s gone. And Hector hates how the other aristocrats mourn Uther as if they didn’t scorn him in life, as if their eyes had not constantly been on the two of them, as if they had not questioned every decision he had made while he was alive, and it’s not Armads slung around his hip anymore—just the Wolf Beil—but his right arm still makes its way for it anyway, clenching the knob of it and shaking. He wouldn’t do anything, of course, but after so long fighting, just the feel of it in his hands is a reassurance when nothing else is left—
—and then there’s the feeling of Lyn slipping her hand into his other, and Eliwood gently prying his fingers off of the axe, and he scrunches his eyes and wills the tears away, knowing that what Uther would have really wanted is for him to find strength like this—two friends, there unconditionally. Something still left, and something that won’t go away.
Unlike Lyn and Eliwood, Hector wears armor; a part of Ostian tradition, of course. “Corrupt neither the body nor the mind”, as Uther had always taught him. One must never be weak, not even when facing death. The one difference is that the armor is almost entirely ceremonial, midnight black with a sweeping cloak to match; Uther’s armor has been removed, left to hang in the Great Hall alongside those of their ancestors.
(Hector hopes he can fill it one day, but in truth he doubts he can; the hole Uther has left in their lives is immeasurable.)
When they close the casket, also following Ostian tradition, those who aren’t close to Hector leave; burial is sacred, so the Ostians say, so only those truly close to the person in life may be there to see them off in death. Eliwood, Ninian, and Lyn stay by his side while the whole ordeal occurs; Lyn is out of tears, Ninian follows suit, but Eliwood...
Eliwood had grown up with Uther, too, Hector recalls. He, too, had been sent to Ostia for schooling, and of course had stayed with Hector while he was there; as much as he had grown up with Hector, he had grown up with Uther watching over him as well. Uther had always had a soft spot for the gentle Pheraen boy, and Eliwood had had one for Uther in turn as well.
It’s Eliwood who sniffles when they begin the burial, and before he knows it, a sniffle turns into a cry turns into a sob, and Hector’s arms are around Eliwood before he can even say anything.
(It was like this when Eliwood had lost his father; out of the three of them, he had always been the one to feel when the other two couldn’t.)
“I’m sorry, I—I shouldn’t be the one crying, it’s not like he was my brother—” Eliwood gasps out between sobs, and Hector shakes his head.
“No, in a way...in a way, he was. You grew up with him just as well as I did.”
“Hector...”
Hector’s gaze steels on the casket as the last bit of dirt is thrown over it, and then his brother is once again part of the earth, once again out of his reach.
“He would be proud of you,” Lyn says softly, watching as Eliwood composes himself and returns to Ninian’s side. She laces an arm through his, and Hector wraps his arm around Lyn’s waist and pulls her close, and for a moment, they are still children, still the seventeen year olds they were when their journey first started, and then the journey changes them all over again, and instead of three naive lordlings from Lycia and one traveling dancer, they are the Marquesses and Marchionesses of Ostia and Pherae, deprived of tribe and father and brother, and life will not go back to the way it once was.
-
After one last spar and bidding their farewells, Hector and Lyn see Eliwood and Ninian out of Ostia; with their new duties, Elimine knows how long it will be before Hector sees Eliwood again beyond a brief diplomatic handshake at a conference. They very well could have children by then, Hector thinks.
“I’m sad to see them go,” Lyn says simply. Hector looks at her, and she shrugs. “We spent so long journeying with the two of them, and now...it all ends with them going home?”
“We’ll see them again,” Hector says, and Lyn squeezes his hand.
He thinks of Durban’s warning, and it’s almost as if he can feel Armads back in his hands for a second, but there are things he must address before he even begins to think of his death; Caelin must be absorbed into Ostia, the Lycian League must confer, and most of all, Ostia must have an heir.
He and Lyn decide that if the heir is a son, they will name him Uther. Hector cannot imagine having a daughter; as much as he jokes about it, he thinks he’s too much of a brute, far too indelicate to raise one.
(He would like to have a child that could be with Eliwood’s child the way he and Eliwood once were, too, if he’s being honest with himself.)
-
And yet despite all the odds, five years later, Ostia has an heiress; a beautiful little girl named Lilina, and Hector is taken with her right from the start.