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Febail remembers very little about his father and mother, but when he tries his hardest to recall his youngest days from before Patty had been born, he notices how the scenery always seems to change each time. At times, the world is blanketed in white and lovers huddle close for warmth. A man he presumes to be his father sneaks a little dollop of snow onto his little cheek, telling him to see the world and brave it, li'l guy. His father has a way of making the most mundane things sound so fantastical, like this world was a wonderful thing to wake up to each day.

And one day, his father would never wake up to meet tomorrow ever again.

But before that, the change from castle to castle, battlefield to battlefield, and country to country seems to suit him and his lady love just fine. Two souls, roaming the world with their son in tow, daring to find treasures and loving people alike.

Their son will grow to be the type to fall too easily in love just like his father before him. Their son will grow to be fearless too, just as if the ghost of his father had taught him that no enemy could find a weakness in him.

Their son will grow to barely know either of them once the flames of Belhalla claim them both, and it will be up to a family friend to drop him and his newborn sister off at an orphanage in Conote, none the wiser.

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Febail had known the snows of Silesse and the fires of Belhalla long before he had known the man that was his father.

After the fallout of Sigurd's army, Brigid had taken her son east towards the Munster Region, traveling only at night. In hindsight, it was to escape any watchful eyes, but as young as he was, he was ignorant to the weight of their situation. When he had asked his mother where they were going, she would tell him it was to see his old man, and that was all he needed to know to be excited.

Leonster was a pretty place where flowers bloomed for as far as the eye could see and the weather was always temperate. There was never a day where there was not enough food to eat, and neither was there a day where his mother went by unloved. Soon enough, that love manifested into another child.

However, beauty is fleeting, and the day after Febail's younger sister was born, the dream-like state of that year in Leonster fades away in a blink of an eye. They hadn't even said goodbye to his father, coming into his life and receding just as quickly as the ocean's waves.

By the time Febail meets his father again, he can't remember him at all and his father can't recognize him in turn. They walk past one another like strangers, a son grown up to live on his own and a father grown to realize the things he loves will all leave him before he is ready to let go.

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When Febail tries to remember his parents, it's always his mother that comes to mind first. She was striking and bold from what he can recall. From where he sat as a little baby, it was always her that he was pointed to look at, like she was someone whose presence was something to bask in every time she walked into the room.

When Patty prompts him to say what he remembers of their mother, the first thing Febail can think to say was that she is beautiful. His memories of her visage are nothing more than a haze, least of all the kind of thing a boy can rely on to say one way or another on the topic, and yet he knows it.

She's beautiful, a voice had murmured from behind him often. He had heard it so often, it had become something like a mantra for the man who had said it to him. His father had held him, taking the role of his constant caregiver but he had lined himself in shadow always. Every day was a day lived in disbelief, one that framed his mother as something holy, something somehow untouchable, and the only thing worth looking at until Febail realized he hardly knew a thing about his father at all.

The only thing he did know in the end was that his father revered his mother in some sort of way, and it had stuck with him long after any memories of what the man looked or sounded like had long since turned murky.

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A youthful man takes his infant son to the market one day. The shopkeepers joke around, not believing the little scrap of a thief they had known would really grow up to get a child of his own even as the thief himself claims the bundle as his, and he brags to the world of his courageous and badass wife, to which the pawnbroker and blacksmith both roll their eyes and simply give a good-natured laugh.

The thief takes his son to the market many more times after that, teaching him the ins-and-outs of every shop in every town and later how to haggle and find a good deal just about anywhere he goes. The vendors rib him, asking if it isn't a bit too early to teach a young thing like that all this stuff, to which the thief replies, "It's the early bird that gets the worm!"

When Febail grows up, that little saying sticks in him, and he makes it a habit to go to the markets early, browsing the merchandise and expertly talking down even the coldest of merchants to let him get his wares for cheap. Every gold coin counts when you've got a whole house of mouths to feed, and the less he can spend on himself, the more he can send back to the little ones in Conote waiting for him, he thinks.

The blacksmith looks at Febail, at first unwilling, but when he sees the boy's green eyes that speak of an upbeat day in a bleak, cold world as theirs, the blacksmith remembers that thief from two decades ago and finds it in him to melt his heart, even if it is at the cost of his own pockets.

He wonders where that thief went, and where his little lad went with him.

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Today, Verdane has a new prince.

Lady Edain of Yngvi sits next to her sister who's in bed with her newborn son, exhausted for the effort of pushing him out it looks. Jamke knows not at first whether to disturb the sisters until the two invite him in, to which he pardons himself and comes in on unsure footsteps still.

The reality of everything hasn't come to sink in quite yet. Seeing this, Brigid rolls her eyes and beckons him even closer — closer — closer — and that's when she tells that husband of hers to hold their son in his arms and make everything feel real already. Her sister laughs watching the two of them before nodding and gently encouraging Jamke to take Febail from Brigid's arms, being the final push the man needs to nod and go along with it as awkward as he might be about the whole thing.

That's his son in his arms. That's another life in Verdane's royal family, a bloodline not destined to end with him after all. The weight of this baby feels all the more heavy with that knowledge, and even after a few minutes have passed with the young Febail in his hold, he still doesn't know what to say or how to react, gaping and gawking at his child like he's not even his.

Congratulations are given all around, carrying through the rest of the day as the various people in Sigurd's army come to visit the couple, and there's a few light-hearted jokes at how stoic Verdane's older prince is being, but Jamke takes that matter more to heart.

Why does he not know how to react? Brigid's going to get worried, but Jamke passes through that day further, still reacting to it like it's not his and her day to revel in.

It's not until later when they need to change Febail that he spots Ulir's brand faintly glowing on the baby's back, and Jamke's stony face breaks, erupting into a silent stream of tears.

For as long as Verdane has existed, it has been known as the land of savages by the other Jugdrali powers. Any peace his kingdom has ever been able to find has been recent but peace does not necessarily mean respect. After all, the moment their treaty had been broken, the Grannvalians and the rest of Jugdral had all been too quick to proclaim their disdain upon them again, voicing what they had merely kept quiet about all these years. Verdane would never be seen as their equal, devoid of the divine blessings they had all been given via their Crusader founders.

This would have been the truth forevermore, but when Jamke spots Febail's brand, he realizes that this truth has now shattered. With his son, he can see a happier future for his beloved fatherland and at last, Jamke finds he can express what exactly he feels about this new chapter in his life.

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It has been some time since the arena's most prized gladiator had left his days of coliseum hopping, trailing after a stronger fighter than him. He still remembers that day fresh in his mind as if it had happened just yesterday. Lord Sigurd's sword moved both gracefully and mightily, blade seemingly an extension of him and his ideals. Chulainn lived each day looking to die and his sword carried the weight of that baggage with it; meanwhile, Sigurd lived brighter than that, living to make a new life, and the way he fought was breathtaking. When Chulainn tasted defeat, he realized he really did want to live but not just any life.

He saw Sigurd's way and decided he wanted a piece of that too. His life hadn't been the same since.

The ride since has been a hell of one, and each bout and battle was another test for Chulainn's will to live. Did he want to see tomorrow? Did he see the future as having a place for him? Just what did he live for exactly?

Though he had joined Sir Sigurd's company to find out, he can't say he's answered any of these questions just yet. He's lived, he's loved, and one day, he's gained a son to call his own.

He asks Brigid what their son's name is, to which she answers Febail. Febail, he repeats, marveling at the sound of it before he says it again and again.

Brigid laughs, wondering what's got into him all of a sudden. It's just a name, after all.

But to Chulainn, it's more than a name. It's the thing to cement that their life together is real, and now he knows what to say when someone asks him what he lives for.

He's found his answer, he discovers, and his life finally feels complete. 

And now he has something to lose.