Work Text:
In the beginning, as Edward had hunched over his desk in the candle-light, blue smudges all over his fingers and shirt-sleeves, he certainly hadn't intended for it to turn out this way. He'd been in a blacker mood than normal, because it had been just over a year since his beloved Anna had died.
Edward had sat down, and perhaps seeking catharsis, he had set out to write a tragedy. The task had soon consumed him, and he scribbled down verses and lyrics with the fury of a man possessed. He had not stopped to think about what he was writing, not until his inspiration had run dry and he'd leaned back to consider his work in the growing light of dawn.
With a growing feeling of dismay, he realised that his tale of a dark hero seeking redemption, the faithful friend's loyalty broken by jealously and betrayal, and the childhood love that stood between protagonist and antagonist, bore a startling similarity to those events that had wracked Baron not a year passed. Of course, the events were different and the outcome even more so, but he could not deny that these characters were, at their core, Cecil, Kain and Rosa. It was in the small details – not obvious, no, but the similarities were still so striking that Edward could not remain comfortable with his work.
There was a certain charm to the tale, even if it wasn't quite the tragedy Edward had first envisioned. A part him wondered if he would ever have the internal fortitude to sing it without wondering if his audience would pick up on the real tale of love and treachery.
###
Edward finally gave into his impulse and his love of sharing stories perhaps a month after the reconstruction of Damcyan Castle was finished. The halls had been packed with his countrymen, and while he was a far-cry from patriotic, he did feel a certain amount of pride. Once, he'd wondered if he could truly lead those same people, but seeing them there, celebrating... Edward smiled, his fingers were already plucking out the unfamiliar tune.
He knew he should refrain, but he told himself that it would only be for this one crowd, for this one time. What could it hurt? Music was made to be shared, and there was nothing that Edward enjoyed more.
As it turned out, in a stroke of great fortune and the poorest of luck, the song was wildly popular and throughout the course of the night, Edward found himself urged into an encore time and time again. Quite frankly, Edward did not know how to stop this runaway machine, which worried him just a little.
Word always spread the fastest when it was the last thing you desired, and Edward found himself in the precarious and all-together awkward position of a man both overjoyed and dismayed by his success. Childhood dreams of grandeur revelled in it, while an older and wiser king with dear friends to lose hoped that the fervour would die down before it reached the shores of Baron.
###
Rydia was the first to send him word, a short and sweet missive that congratulated him on his work on Damcyan's restoration – and his recent success on the musical side of things. An interesting story indeed, she'd written, and Edward had then wondered if it were truly possible to see a wide smile in a person's penmanship. She'd further gone on to remark that she liked the ending to his piece. While Edward had felt a certain amount of pride at her scribbled words, he'd still flushed a bright red and wondered if he'd gone a little too far with his suggestions.
Once Rydia had guessed the true nature of his greatest hit, it had only been a matter of time before Edge sent in something a little more to the point.
Folded up and neatly slotted in between the various diplomatic missives sent from Eblan, Edge's message had been full of innuendo and Edward wondered how hard the man had giggled over a warm sake at his own wit before sending it. Still mildly mortified by the message even a day after having received it, Edward did not care who topped of the three heroes of his tale – after all, that was not his concern, and if it was, he rather thought it would be Rosa – and a part of him wondered if Edge was taking this all a bit too seriously.
Yang's scroll was one of both confusion and hearty joy at Cecil, Kain and Rosa's new-found happiness in spite of such horrific tragedy, and Edward had to conclude that yes, his friends were taking the ending of his song a little too seriously. He'd written a short and apologetic message back to Yang, explaining that any similarities to real people were entirely coincidental. What Edward got back was the written equivalent of a nudge and a knowing wink, and in the end Edward had simply thrown his hands up in defeat.
Fortunately, Edward did not receive any letters from Cid Pollendina. He was not sure he could have survived that.
###
The next time that Edward was 'cordially invited' to Baron Castle, this time for Baron's harvest festival, he sensed the threat lurking behind Rosa's words and hastily accepted her invitation. He had declined the last few invitations, citing his focus on rebuilding Damcyan to its former glory, but now he had no such excuses and he supposed that Rosa knew it. As the date had approached, he had grown more and more apprehensive, wondering if the festival was the only reason that Cecil and Rosa had sought his presence.
It had been months since any had asked after it in his halls, so surely he was safe?
Baron Castle was in the midst of celebration by the time that Edward arrived with his small contingent of advisors and guards. In spite of the cheery warmth of it all, Edward's stomach was in anxious knots and in a mood that soured the whole experience. Of course, he was not the only foreign dignitary to have been strong-armed into attending Baron's festival, and he noted with a sinking stomach that Rydia, Edge and Yang were all seated at one of the long tables in the hall.
Edward took his seat on the bench beside Yang, muttering a few words of greeting while awaiting the inevitable comments and questions about his song.
None came, and as the balmy afternoon wore on into night, Edward began to relax and even began to play a few short comedies on his harp. The songs were met by laughter and the clapping of hands, and Edward had flushed at the praise. He really should have known that opening himself up for requests would be a terrible idea, but when it came to music and songs, Edward really couldn't help himself, so he happily complied with whatever request put forward.
Well. He had been happy enough, until Cid Pollendina had yelled at him from a bench across the call and demanded a rendition of Edward's latest work. That song with the three lovers, Cid had said with a deep laugh, and his request was met with murmurs of agreement.
This told Edward two things. Yes, his song had crossed the deserts and had reached Baron, and Edward had stop for a moment to both admire and resent his own inadvertent success again. The second thing was that with everyone's attention on him now, and having happily played every other request he'd been asked of, he could not in good conscience turn Cid down. Edward had cast a furtive look around the halls, vaguely plucking out a few disjointed notes on his harp as he searched for Cecil and Rosa.
Satisfied that neither Cecil nor Rosa were currently in the hall, Edward cleared his throat nervously and began to sing. His voice wavered a little at first, but as the intensity and complexity of the song increased, he was absorbed into his task entirely. Music was what he loved, and sharing stories was his highest calling.
Only when the song ended did Edward regain his full senses and take note of his surroundings. He took a mouthful of wine to ease his parched throat, and beside him, Yang discretely cleared his throat and looked pointedly over Edward's shoulder.
Edward followed his gaze, and felt a little ill as he took in the King and Queen of Baron. They must have joined the crowd some time during his performance, Edward realised, but he could not think of when. Seated comfortably on one of the other benches, Rosa was looking at Cecil fondly, rubbing the hand of the arm draped around her shoulders, and Cecil's eyes looked distant even if he was smiling.
Edward released his baited breath. That had been a far better reaction than he'd expected, especially having spent the last half year fretting about it.
###
After his song, Edward quickly tired of the oppressive loudness of the hall and feast and he slipped away under the cover of Edge's knife-juggling tricks. The night air on Baron's parapet was cool, and he leaned out, looking up at the stars and the moon and thinking back on that grand adventure. There were times that he scarcely believed that he had been a part of it all, no matter the changes it had wrought in him.
Anna weighed on his mind, and he sighed and again tried to remain strong for her.
"So, this is where you have gone to hide," a voice said from behind him, and Edward looked back to find that Cecil too had slipped free from his duties down in the hall. Cecil seemed at ease as he joined Edward at the wall's edge, as if he'd not just heard an old friend suggest that his relationship with his best friend had been less than pure.
"You are... perceptive. You always were," Cecil said, finally. "He's been gone nearly a year, and I feel like I miss him more every day."
Edward murmured something vague, but he did not mention his own pain and loss. They stood in silence for a while, neither speaking, just understanding that some things were best shared in silence, and Edward was glad of that small mercy.
As the moments stretched into minutes, Cecil laughed, a low and sad sound.
"I believe I should take my leave. It has been a long day," Cecil told him, and he pushed himself away from the wall and swept into a courteous bow. "Rosa says that she quite likes the ending of your song. I cannot help but feel I, too, would have preferred it to the original. Good night, Edward."
Edward watched Cecil go, struck by the open sadness and wistfulness in Cecil's eyes, and he looked back up at the moon and stars. While Edward had set out to write a tragedy, his song had ended not with death or separation, but with happiness and linked hands.
In life the tragedy was stark and real. Cecil and Rosa had been left to pick up the pieces of whatever it had been that they'd shared with Kain, left somewhere in limbo and denial, waiting. Despite what some could say about the liberties he'd taken with characters, events and the ending, Edward no longer regretted penning that song, not when he remembered how Rosa and Cecil had smiled.
Edward had always loved sharing his gift of music, and he left the parapets with a mind full of half-completed lyrics, already beginning to plan a follow-up song in his head.