Work Text:
The last battle with Ishmelga--with...Father--is quiet. You are both exhausted, now, and victory is assured for neither. Except. There is a moment that he falters, for a single moment, and you do not. A moment where that sword full of hate meets that sword that is your friend.
There is the pulse of your family behind you. There is an end without regret behind you. There is a maiden’s resolve behind you. There is a strength of a thousand behind you. There is a weight of ages behind you. There is an endless love behind you. Your sword burns with it all, and in an instant, even as your blade runs him through, you understand: this is not death for him. This is rest.
You understand: there is a thin line between suicide and sacrifice. Crow taught you. Millium taught you. George taught you. Rutger taught you. Lianne taught you. Lechter taught you. Claire taught you. Your father has taught you.
You understand: your life does not belong to you. It belongs to them.
The curse is around you, then inside of you, endless and awful. The frame of the Ebon Knight turns transparent before you, fading away. There is a dark crawling up your skin, a parasite infesting you, there is a hate calling out to you. There is a moment where you wonder if you could all fight it off, together. If there is a way for you to live.
I’m sorry, everyone.
But sometimes there are things worth the dying. And if anything is, it has to be them.
It hurts. It hurts. Fire in your veins, in your bones, in your heart, in your every organ, your every molecule, every breath an anguish, every movement a torture, a million flaying blades on the inside of you, begging you: relinquish it to me, your body, your soul, your very being.
He fought this for two lifetimes without falter. He fought this for ten years to give you this chance. You can fight this for a few minutes. You can fight this for a million.
You can emerge from this final battlefield, cradling your first father in your arms, and you can ask Valimar if there is enough power in him, and you can try your absolute hardest not to ruin their jubilation over what they think is victory until the very last.
You can try not to look at them as the realisation slowly, awfully dawns on them.
You can fight off the power of the curse, the awful weight of malice and strife and putrid hate, and try not to think too hard about what’s left behind. Try not to think of the looks on their faces, the grief and the rage and the loss. Don’t think about her. Don’t think about who you’re leaving behind so much as what you’re leaving behind you, a new, brilliant future, cleansed of curses and a Great Power.
Here are the things that comfort you: you will not die alone. You will not leave her wholly alone. They have overcome grief once, and they will do it again. They will do it together.
This is atonement. This is farewell.
(Just don’t think about her desperate cry of your name, the howl of Elliot’s grief, don’t think about this fresh wound you’ve dealt to them. Don’t think about the Schwarzers, your second family. Don’t think about how this will destroy Elise. Don’t think about your students, all of them, who placed so much faith in you. Don’t think about your friends and your comrades and your allies and your teachers.
Don’t think about the sacrifice, just think about the victory. Don’t think about what they’re losing, just the future they’re gaining.)
Breach the atmosphere, feel the presence of the three of them beside you. The girl who has become your sword. The man who was your friend then your enemy then your partner. The ancient knight always in the back of your mind, comfort and wisdom and stalwart support.
no, you can’t do this! you can’t!
Yes, you can. You will.
And even as the air runs thin, and the malice burns through your body, and even as Crow and Millium and Valimar fade into the recesses of your mind, and even as you close your eyes and accept it, you understand that this is the only path. The only way to keep them all safe.
no! noooo!
And maybe their fairy tale has a happier end than this, in another life, in another time.
But even still, the curse is agonizing in its rage, furious in its death.
But even still, you don’t retreat from the pain and the inevitability.
But even still, you greet the end with a smile.
And here is one last thing to comfort you: you’ll see them again, someday, somewhere.