Chapter Text
That scowl. That damned scowl. One would think that a great sin had been committed to be on the receiving end of such a look. Why? Why would she look at him so? Those brown eyes seemed so intent on finding any little mistake. They look for any reason to solidify whatever discontent was already there. It was as though he were the blight consuming the land himself.
Echoes of the way the bystanders sneered and chuckled haunted Clive down to his core. Learning to battle from Chocobo-back was at the forefront of their training agenda. Since it would be the first time he’d been learning to use a weapon from Ambrosia’s back, it was decided it would be best to use the dirt arena that they normally used for sparring sessions. It was large enough to start with at the very least. All seemed to go well in the beginning but reckless ambition overtook steady caution. Clive had ushered for his trusted companion to move faster and he overextended. All it took was one moment of imbalance on a rounded turn and he found himself flung off to the side of the snow-colored Chocobo. The worst part was when the wooden fencing that sectioned the arena off was what greeted him as it broke the fall. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the only thing broken. Pride and confidence were right there with the fence. Oh, and how could he forget the way his arm had been just as smashed as those planks?
They all laughed at the little lordling who thought he was some warrior. All except one, who just scowled and walked away as though he had brought shame to the entire Rosfield bloodline. The Duchess Anabella had been there for one reason or another. Part of Clive hoped she was there in support of his dedication for once, but he knew how wishful that thinking was. The other part knew she was just there to find some weak spot in the armor he had built over the years. Why did it bother him so when she turned her back on him, again? How many summers have gone by when she had done the same thing over and over again?
Clive, desperate for air, panted as sweat dripped from the stray strands of hair from his bangs. Exhaustion didn’t creep in, it came at him full charge. These thoughts ran rampant as now he stand in the very same training ground from earlier, arm secured safely in a sling. The night air felt colder this time. It was a shame he couldn’t put on his normal doublet due to how much he struggled with taking it off let alone putting it back on. Instead, it was replaced by a royal red tunic, similar to the one Elwin and Joshua wear. Many of the shields joked that he finally look the part of firstborn to the Archduke. Often he avoided the color due to this association, instead wanting to be viewed for his hard work and skill. Oh how well that seemed to work. He was thankful the only thing keeping him company were the stars above as the moon seemed as though it wasn’t going to make an appearance tonight in due part to the clouds that smothered it. The wooden fencing was already in the process of being replaced.
The wooden sparring blade that his nondominant hand carried felt all the heavier when flashes of the failure from earlier popped up continuously. Azure eyes lasered in upon the wooden training dummy before him. Each swing felt sloppier than the last. Each impact felt off. Murdoch had taught him to fight with his offhand just fine. No, the sloppiness came from trying to strike without putting hurting himself in the process.
Frustrated, Clive trudged to an unbroken section of the fence and leaned back against it. The wooden blade thrust into the earth. ‘This is ridiculous, it’s just one mistake,’ His mind tried to knock some sense into itself. ‘All it takes is one mistake to lose everything though.’ There was a battle going on in his mind and he wasn’t entirely sure which side was winning. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure what there was to win in the first place.
“You make it look easy,” A light voice encouraged from behind. The sudden dialogue caused his heart to jump out of his chest as he turned to look for the source. Jill. Clive inhaled sharply as his increased heart rate began to slow down from being surprised. Part of Clive had been disappointed that his solitude had come to an abrupt end. The other parts were thankful it was her. Founder knows that today he could not bear a talk with his father tonight. Maybe a friend wouldn’t be so bad though.
Ever since they first looked at the moon together they were inseparable. If Clive was training, she had been spectating and cheering him on. If Jill was running an errand, Clive was there to escort and keep her company. They were often called each other’s shadows. It didn’t bother them though.
They would even read the same tomes at the same time either swapping out until the other caught up or reading to each other aloud. It was one of their favorite things to do. Their latest dive had been Forevermore; an intense tale of two lovers forced apart for years by the flames of war only to be reunited on the battlefield on opposing sides. That was as far as either had gotten within it. They were supposed to go into it more today but more important matters took precedence.
The young northerner sprang on the lower plank beside him on the outside of the training area and balanced herself., leaning forward. The subtle movement caused her to lose balance momentarily before Clive took one step to the side to offer his shoulder against hers. This seemed to work as she stood tall once more. She craned her head to get a better look at him. Her eyebrows lifted slightly as she offered him a reassuring smile.
“Apologies, My Lady,” Clive furrowed his brows in return to her words. “Make what look easy?”
Jill nodded toward the training dummy. Although it didn’t seem to clear much up as Clive looked as though he waited for her to elaborate. “Swinging a sword! You make it look easy!” The way she said it made it seem as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Clive could only shake his head in response.
“You were watching?”
“Mhm,” Jill nodded. “His Grace said you’d likely be here and requested I came to ensure you don’t strain yourself. I was going to say something at first, but you seemed so… vexed ? I thought it better if I just let you be and not hound you for not resting that arm of yours. I’m glad I did otherwise I might not have seen your impressive swordsmanship.”
Impressive? That shoddy display? No, she was just being kind. That’s what it had to be. Though, Jill was the type to always speak her mind. The type to always speak their truth. It didn’t matter. If she thought that was good she should see how the Lord Commander does in a sparring match. She has seen that, but not once did she call that impressive.
There was a moment of contemplative silence between them both before Jill’s sigh broke it. “A boy of fourteen summers has been holding his own against some of the best Shields of Rosaria the Duchy has to offer. Look at that claim from the outside and take yourself out of it. Is that not impressive?”
Clive tried to oblige the request and look at it from the outside, but it was different. It is him in this context. Maybe it would be enough for others, but not for him. All of this is for Joshua. When it comes time to defend against those who may threaten the Phoenix’s chosen, there can be no room for errors. One mistake means losing him and that simply wasn’t an option. Just the thought made him feel sick.
Each mistake also meant embarrassing the Rosfield name. The thought of the shame he could or would bring his house immediately brought how his mother would react. Would she strike him again or would she belittle him? Thank the Founder she hadn’t done so today. Though that was probably because if she had seen the broken arm was punishment enough.
“Clive, is this really about your fall?” Jill’s voice was soft and her tone patient. Divludging his inner turmoil to others was something rare. Why should he bother others with his own strife? Who would listen anyway?
Clive thought for a moment before answering. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it down. “Of course.” He lied and looked away.
A long drawn-out sigh left Jill, yet she had the small smile still on her face as she reached a hand out to his cheek. Momentarily, he felt his body tense. Her hand was cold to the touch but it was not a bad thing. He had been so hot and worn out from his training that he appreciated the contrast. It was also soft and so gentle. If she hadn’t been right in front of him, he may have assumed it belonged to a ghost. Slowly she guided his face to look back at her. Reluctantly he locked his azure eyes with her darker gray ones. They almost resembled the thick clouds during a thunderstorm. The kind of thunderstorm that made you want to curl up next to a fire and look out the window. “You’re a terrible liar.”
The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he brought his hand to his chin. “I’m not that bad, am I?”
“Truly awful,” Jill chortled. The sound of her laugh was enough to finally get his muscles to relax. Clive adored her laugh. It was alluring and soft. almost ethereal, like a blue butterfly drifting in the wind above a field of roses. “Regardless of whether you tell me or not, I won’t leave you to brood by your lonesome.”
“The tomes I’ve read have thoroughly expressed that the brooding hero was the favorable kind.” Clive joked, forcing his voice to sound deeper to play along with the part.
She could only roll her eyes in response, just as exaggeratedly as his voice was. “I do believe you’ve been reading too much of Forevermore , Lord Rosfield .” There had been a hint of teasing in the way she said his title.
“Oh, on the contrary, Lady Warrick, my ever-busy schedule has left me no time to unravel the threads of our intense leads and discover the fate before them.” He never was one to shy away from matching her jests.
“That is something we must remedy immediately!” She let out an audible gasp, raising one of her hands to her chest. “Now I am not foolish enough to presume this alone would convince you to lay your lordly head down on a pillow for a few days, so I have a proposal..”
“Alas, I believe a lovely dinner and courtship comes before a proposal.” He was completely aware of how bad that joke was and embraced it. What reinforced this behavior was the groan that left Jill as she had finished processing what he said. Momentarily she raised her hand as if to smack him but lowered it after some contemplation.
"You're lucky you're already injured. Anyways, what I was going to say is that if you promise me to rest up that arm of yours, we can probably clear through some of the books that lie unread on your shelf."
"I don’t think- I can’t just-" Clive stammered, his words stumbling as he tried to resist the idea.
"It's only a couple of days, Clive, and then I'm sure the physicker's magic will have you in tip-top shape to give Lord Murdoch enough grief," Jill persisted, her voice filled with gentle determination.
Clive looked at Jill, seeing the concern and sincerity in her eyes. A part of him wanted to argue, to insist that he had to keep pushing himself. But another part longed for the respite, for a chance to escape the weight of expectations and responsibilities.
The atmosphere between them shifted slightly. The weight of their unspoken thoughts hung in the air, and a more serious tone settled over their conversation.
Clive hesitated for a moment, his gaze falling to the ground. He knew deep down that Jill's suggestion was the right course of action, but a part of him still clung to the notion of pushing through the pain and continuing his training.
"Clive," Jill began softly, her voice laced with a mix of concern and determination, "I understand that you're driven and that you feel the weight of expectations upon you. But pushing yourself beyond your limits won't make you any stronger. It will only hinder your progress.”
Her words hit home, cutting through his stubbornness. Clive glanced up, meeting Jill's gaze, and saw the genuine worry etched in her eyes.
"I don't want to see you get hurt even more, Clive," Jill continued, her voice filled with sincerity. "You're important to me, and your well-being matters. Taking a few days to rest and heal is not a sign of weakness; it's a sign of wisdom and self-care."
Jill's words lingered in the air, urging Clive to prioritize his well-being and recovery. He couldn't ignore the genuine concern in her voice, and it prompted him to reflect on the deeper struggles he had been carrying within.
Clive hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting from Jill's encouraging expression to the ground beneath his feet. A mixture of emotions swirled within him—fear, vulnerability, and a longing for understanding. He knew that he couldn't keep everything bottled up much longer. There would only be one play he could make that would leave everything behind the walls he built up over the years.
“Alright, you win,” Clive sighed with a faint smile.”Let’s go back inside and find out what happened to these leads before it drives us mad.”
Clive's agreement to go back inside and focus on the task at hand instead of delving into his inner struggles didn't go unnoticed by Jill. Although she respected his decision to keep his troubles hidden for now, a pang of sadness tugged at her heart. She longed for Clive to trust her enough to share his burdens fully, but she also understood.
"Thank you, Clive," Jill replied softly, her smile tinged with a hint of wistfulness. With some careful contemplation, she put all her weight on the balls of her feet and leaned into him, pressing her soft lips against Clive's cheek in a small, tender peck. It was a fleeting touch, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, but it carried an immense warmth and affection. Clive felt a tingle of electricity where her lips met his skin. A torrent of warmth overtook his face as his muscles tensed up once more.
Clive could swear that he felt himself about to melt into a puddle right there. Though, he couldn’t contain the dumb grin that found its way onto his face.
“Let’s not dally any longer, the more time spent here means the less time spent on tomes.” Jill gingerly leaped off the fencing that supported her weight.
“After you, My Lady.” There weren’t many times when Clive sounded nervous or caught off guard, to Jill’s pleasure this was one of those times.
‘I guess I’ll just have to break down those walls, Rosfield.’
Jill hummed happily to herself.
Thus the first crack formed.