Chapter Text
After an eternity, Clive Rosfield had finally woken up.
He was in a long daze, unable to realize for a moment he was even awake. There was a pain stuck to his face, it stung in his awareness of his surroundings. The room was dark, apart from something pale resting at his vision’s center. Something silver and shimmering almost in his blurred gaze. As Clive took more focus, it gained more definition and the colors differentiated themselves. Within the silver color looked to be a lighter pale skin tone… meaning it must have been surrounded by silver hair.
There was a brief disconnect in Clive not recognizing the meaning behind that detail.
Clive blinked more, detail erupted, adding upon the image. Much like the silver hair hinted, it was a face with rather northern features. An amalgamation coming from the many tribes without denoting a clear lineage. He heard a cruel voice in his head describing this face as quite plain, not that he could yet make the full connection.
He thought he imagined that face taking on an ethereal glow… as if he imagined a version of the face he couldn’t explain.
But finally his vision settled, and one thing made itself exuberantly clear… she had silver star fallen eyes, befitting her hair. Clive’s heart leapt just a bit.
He hadn’t seen this face in months, his heart beat faster looking at her. He had gotten used to his pain over the course of the past days in this haze, but much of it felt resolved at this very sight.
She was so beautiful to him.
Jill hadn’t noticed him yet, she only took to leaning in to pet his head, putting her bandaged fingers through his messy hair as if he were Torgal. From her chair she balanced forward with her other hand at Clive’s bedside. His weak hand stumbled until it found hers, the princess diverted her attention away to this.
She saw his eyes opened, staring at someone he had missed for months.
Someone he likely thought he’d never see again.
Jill’s lips creased into a sweet smile.
“Welcome back.”
Clive had been back at Castle Rosilith for three days. After his fever broke he slept like a stone. In fact had he no other reason to stay awake, he could easily become that rock again. The physician said it was normal, Joshua said he was lethargic even before reaching home. And yet Clive fought it, trying to get up from the cot, only to feel that intense pain in his limbs (and somehow from his face). Jill had to push him down, accidentally stumbling closer to him.
The physician interrupted the moment to reprimand him. He wouldn’t leave the infirmary until she was satisfied, and Clive felt only a little betrayed as Jill parroted her words. So Clive remained at bedrest… his first guests were his brother and Torgal with his and Jill’s breakfast. Joshua had a smile that mirrored Jill’s.
Clive was happy to eat as his friends told him about the past days. His earliest questions pertained to the Archduke, who was still fighting at Drake’s Breath with Lord Commander Murdoch. It was unlikely that Clive would see the front line anytime soon. The duchess as Elwin’s proxy had also put forth an order to ensure that Joshua did not return.
“But surely the Archduke could order you back?” Clive reasoned.
“True, but we haven’t had any missives from father, I’m afraid.” Joshua said, oddly relieved (and disliking that). Clive could tell that his brother had spent much of this time sleeping, as did Jill despite her vigil. “I’ve sent a few messages, but perhaps the fighting has been too intense to warrant a response.” Joshua looked away. “The duchess appears to think so.” He added, spitefully.
There was a coldness to the way Joshua spoke of their mother now, as if whatever conversations he had with her were begrudging one sided affairs. It didn’t help that Joshua said “the duchess” and not “mother” like he usually tended to do so.
There was a break between them. But yet as Clive tried to ask about her, Jill and Joshua deflected the question, offering each other an uncertain look. Jill pushed past it, casually moving a stray hair out of her face with an oddly bandaged finger. She looked like an absolute mess tending to him, but there was a happiness there that Clive felt in every motion. As she bit into a pork sausage at her plate, Jill cringed and the fork clattered off her plate to the ground. The princess cursed herself while Joshua instead bent down to pick it up (irritating Jill in a coddling sort of way).
As she did that, Clive noticed her hands were covered in disheveled bandages. In her frustration, a piece bended away, revealing a discolored skin that made up her hands in secret.
“Are those recent?” Clive asked, constructing a simple connection in his mind to the previous topic. “Did… did she do that to you”- He grew weary, sitting up, straining as his back refused to capitulate with his protective instincts, Jill tensed up at the display.
“She had nothing to do with it.” She said quickly, while Joshua eyed her hands, recalling a prior conversation they had separately. The copper haired teen cautiously took their dishes, taking his leave. The dog followed.
“Me and Torgal’ll… come back with more of your things, Clive.” Joshua said simply. He closed the door behind him, to ensure the physician or other patients didn’t hear.
And Jill felt that frustrating pressure, as she had to finally tell Clive.
She was a bearer, with a vocation in ice magic it seemed. Jill had used it to fight his fever, but described it as if she were fighting a forest fire with a single bucket of river water.
Clive felt he imagined that forest fire she spoke of, he had dreamt of Drake’s Breath, and his father and their ships battling Ironblood on the beaches of that blasted crystal without him. He saw the island shake in terror.
As his fever grew worse he felt himself deep down in a dark place, drowning… falling further.
Among it he remembered her voice.
“I love you too.” She said. “Please don’t go.”
She begged him to keep fighting, so he did. He felt he had been swimming for days, but now he was with her, finally taking breath.
Jill was disturbed about her revelation, of her magic. To be a bearer in Rosaria might have been more positive than in the other kingdoms, but the shame of that brand was still apparent. It’d need to stay secret, the only other person they could trust would be the Archduke.
And absolutely not the duchess.
When Joshua learned of her secret, he grew immediately more worried.
In that moment Joshua swore to Jill that he’d see all bearers in Rosaria freed when he came of age in the coming year. While Jill felt off-put by such a brazen answer, he reasoned it wasn’t just for her benefit.
Clive was struck by an arrow concocted of a wyvern tail. The arrow was meant for their father, who was in favor of freeing bearers. So when he returned, Joshua would promise to speak with their father of it, of what steps were needed to see that dream fulfilled before those cowards could think to sling another arrow.
Clive didn’t seem surprised by this news in the slightest. He was too tired to lie to her, not that he’d ever dream of doing so (she’d see through it rather easily).
“You knew before,” Jill said, “Didn’t you?”
“I always knew you were special.” Clive said, forcing that smile out of Jill again.
Whatever apprehension Jill had about telling Clive was immediately unfounded… Like Joshua said.
There was nothing she could do or be that’d change his feelings for her.
Jill looked bashful in his words, color erupting in her pale cheeks.
“I’m sorry you had to do it, for my sake.” Clive added. Jill reflexively shook her head.
"I’m not, if this is how I bear your burdens, so be it.” She sounded so self-assured in that, like this whole ordeal revealed a part of herself she had never known. “But…” Jill heaved. “Don’t ever do that again.” She said, staring at him, fingers shakily entangled with his. Clive wanted to argue with her, say he couldn’t keep that promise. It was for his father, after all. But he saw that look in her eyes, the absolute weight of the past days fallen on her back.
She had just proven how far she’d go for him, it was in her best interest that he took better care of himself, to ensure she’d never have to.
“I’ll try.” Clive whispered.
Jill appreciated that, leaning in to kiss his forehead like a doting parent. There was a thin chill that went down Clive’s spine as she did that, reminiscent of the coldness from before. She seemed about to pull away, but Clive looked up to her, his hand slowly snaking up her arm as they studied each other in this moment of closeness.
Jill slowly reached for Clive’s cheek, gently touching his new scar.
“Is it bad?” Clive asked, he’d yet to see it after all. There was a soft insecurity in his voice as he felt her cold touch on it.
“It’s not,” Jill confessed. “It… it adds some interesting character. Something rugged about it.”
Her attraction to Clive went beyond that, though she didn’t complain how handsome he was. This however did contest a little with her original image of Clive as a princely type. It added a craggy-ness that she hadn’t expected.
Frankly, it reminded her of the stories told about Silvermane. Her father’s legend grew with every scar his enemies earned from him. She remembered holding his giant hand, seeing it covered in cuts and marks. She couldn’t remember his face, but Jill could remember the sensation of walking with him through the long halls in their castle.
“In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the sort of thing young ladies from the north tend to like.” Jill flirted, Clive’s mood was alleviated briefly. “I’m fairly certain it’s how Lord Geir courted my mother.”
“Oh really… Then you wouldn’t happen to know any northern ladies perchance, would you?” She rolled her eyes from Clive’s response.
“Very funny.”
“Thank the Founder I still have my sense of humor, if my dashing good looks are indeed gone.”
Jill saw through that humor easily. Just the fact that she was treating it differently seemed to arouse suspicion from Clive. His own fingers grasping the scar, uncertain from the shapes felt. Her fingers pressed on his softly, as Jill edged closer, drawing more attention from his blue-eyed gaze.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Clive.” She promised him, reducing his stress. “You are everything I need.” The two delved closer, finding a missing intimacy they had both longed for. Clive pressed forward, catching her lips and a succinct kiss. In the romance, Jill stumbled, practically falling further onto him. Clive was able to resist her weight, deepening the kiss.
There was a sudden hunger they both felt, missing each other’s company in the past months. An excitement rose up within them. Clive unintentionally made it evident, using his free hand to hold her backside to keep Jill from falling off. He wanted to pause and ask if this way okay, only for Jill to continue kissing him, breath ragged from the distance. His touch practically burned her, as he stroked her face, his hand lowering to the collar on her dress, nearly daring to go lower. The kiss ended abruptly as the two sat on that precipice.
They were unable to say anything, that clear uncertainty rising back up.
In that uncertainty, Clive felt that pain, that weakness he’s sustained and winced. Jill recognized that, knowing he’d refuse to impose his own boundaries. So she’d impose them for him, until he was well. Instead her hand reached for his at her collar, intertwining fingers and lowering them to her waist more neutrally. She kissed him again, more chaste this time, but Clive was satisfied.
Moments later the door opened, and Joshua returned, this time with more of Clive’s things. As he held them, the couple paused awkwardly. Torgal also walked in from behind the prince, completely indifferent to whatever scene his “parents” were engaged in.
“Well look at you two, getting right back into the groove of things.” Joshua quipped to hide his embarrassment. Jill gently pressed off of Clive’s waist, to simply sit at his bedside, fingers still interlocked. Joshua casually put a few Clive’s books down at a thin table, as well as his sword (Clive seemed to have a neurotic attachment to keeping it around). “Is there anything I should be made aware of?” Joshua asked, “Perhaps on the state of your betrothal?”
Clive and Jill looked to each other, unsure what to say, especially when Joshua saw much of what they didn’t speak of. Jill finally spoke up.
“We’re getting married.” Saying that, her smile infected Clive just the same.
“And uh…” Clive murmured, “Pretty soon, I think…” Jill nodded eagerly. There was a silliness to the way she smiled right now, like a “lovely fool” as Clive had described when he sought Joshua’s help with his letters. Joshua recognized much of that same look in Clive.
The two were of the same mind, it appeared.
Despite the tension of the past days, Joshua couldn’t betray the thin smile on his lips, watching how they held hands looking at him. This was an absolute gift.
“It’s about time.”
On the outside, the Duchess Anabella seemed the same. Thankfully nobody could see the formation of cracks in the façade.
She had heard the news of her firstborn’s survival, that he had came out on the other side scarred but alive. She maintained her distance from that infirmary, days had gone by and Clive had yet to leave it. Though Joshua and Jill Warrick left frequently, as did a collection of shields who had taken to Clive as their commanding officer in the Lord Commander’s stead. Many of those shields were still loyal to her as Elwin’s proxy, but Clive was a war hero attached to that beloved northern bitch, Anabella couldn’t compete.
Indeed the rumors of their engagement had become something of a spectacle. The vaguely approaching wedding became talk of the castle after the widespread critical reception to Clive’s survival.
The days in the castle had been quiet and speculative. She heard the hushed whispers spoken by the servants, knowing of her actions, of the rift between the duchess and her sons. “Soon there’ll be a new Lady Rosfield,” someone from her own inner circle had murmured… as if she was interchangeable, like that ashen whore could take her place. She had no doubt they’d marry when the archduke returned from Drake’s Breath… it was so transparent that they might as well be planes of glass.
But that putrid concept was the last thing on her mind.
Clive’s deficiency had been a long understood and the Warrick girl was a non-entity. But Joshua?
There was an agony to the prince turning his back on her, to the resentment he now harbored for his mother.
She had made an unintentional mistake with Joshua brought on by Clive’s unexpected survival. The lesson would had solidified had he died. With the engagement to Jill Warrick ruined, there’d be an easy excuse to remove her (and without Elwin present to get in the way). With Joshua isolated, perhaps he’d finally listen to what his mother had to say. And as saddened as the Archduke would be to lose Clive and Silvermane’s spawn, the duchy would finally move on.
Unfortunately, her scheme backfired. New problems were created as a result.
Her true son had been sending missives to his father, which she had built a collection of (her network was good for something, it seemed). They all spoke of the same thing, “Mother betrayed Clive, she is a liability who doesn’t care about the family.” She could read the writing on the wall, after all she had metaphorically constructed the very wall he etched his quill into. No doubt when Elwin returned, her power would be diminished if not snuffed out entirely. To willfully allow the first shield to die, even if it was inevitable, came with consequences.
Elwin always had too much of a fondness for their children. It blinded him from his duty to their line.
So she had been constructing new plans, speaking with her allies, managing what remnants of power she had remaining to build a future from. In fact, she had been harboring a letter from her noble husband, something had gone wrong on such a magnitude that she couldn’t even understand… meaning he would return from war rather soon. This meant her own timetable was moving up. And it seems the night had arrived.
Anabella decided on that pivotal night to make a detour, for the sake of closure.
“You seem happier.” Joshua had said to Jill out of nowhere. The two had been practicing in the courtyard, fencing with dulled rapiers. The shields had left on their protective assignments for the night. Without the Archduke’s main forces they had something of a skeleton crew. However, that meant the Phoenix and his father’s ward were left to their own devices. “It suits you, Jill.” The copper haired youth said as Jill easily deflected his blow, swishing and parrying in a coordinated sequence that Clive no doubt taught her.
“Are you suggesting I’m not usually happy?” Jill asked jumping back, her precise footwork seemingly mocked Joshua’s poor excuse for such. Torgal sat to the side, watching their feet dancing.
“Not at all.” Joshua remarked. It was a rare time when he wished to take a hand at sparring. He thought his time at war impressed upon him some of Clive’s instinct, only for Jill to easily flourish through his sloppy guard (despite her own shaky stance due to recent events). Yet she was happy to have an opponent for the first time in months. She imagined it would take some time for Clive to finally be up to it (among other things). “Happiness suits you.” Jill smiled hesitantly from the complement.
He had taken to sparring with her much in the recent days, needing some sort of distraction from his books and speculations. If he was being watched, he'd allow it on his own terms.
He tightened his gaze on Jill’s diminished pose (due to the compliment he bequeathed upon her), preparing for her strike. The teen was correct, Jill dug in and thrusted into him. Joshua evaded it, lightly tapping her side with the blade.
Despite how tired she seemed, Jill was impressed.
“He can be taught.” She clapped his shoulder lightly, Joshua grinned just a little.
“I had a good teacher.”
“As did I.” Jill wiped her brow, pulling her braid back behind her. As the two left the courtyard, they found their seats and a pair of apples Joshua had acquired earlier.
Unfortunately they weren’t as good as the ones from before, as Jill heard Joshua complain about.
“Though that was a cheap shot.” Jill remarked on their break, her brother gulped down a piece of fruit. “Flattering me so I’ll repeat a mistake.”
“Father would just call it good strategy.”
“I’m sure mine would call it a lack of honor.” Joshua laughed at such a thing, casually agreeing. “But yes… I am happier.” Jill admitted.
Clive’s survival had healed her spirit, and it grew as he continued to improve. Joshua meanwhile was ecstatic for his brother’s health, but he found himself rather distracted by a multitude of things. The question of his father’s assassin was one, as was his curiosity of Jill’s powers.
Especially as she was very hesitant to show them off.
He knew little of how bearers were treated up in the north. Their governments lacked stability, was not traditionally centralized. So documents researching their practices could only detail a few tribes and not encompass the greater whole. But also because of that, perhaps bearers could more easily slip through the systematic cracks.
Especially if one of them was the chieftain’s daughter who left at the age of six.
But that didn’t satisfy him, surely Jill would have developed it earlier. Bearers might have hidden their abilities to escape servitude, but his sister claimed she had developed them within the previous years. She had no reason to lie of such a thing given their closeness.
Jill had certainly demonstrated her powers, but with a more advanced technique that surprised the prince.
What else was she unknowingly hiding?
Jill found herself gently peeling at the apple, feeling pensive somewhat.
“I love him, you know?” Joshua glanced up from his thoughts. “And I’ve finally found a way to help him. After feeling worthless for so long, I made a difference… I have a purpose.” Joshua waited for a but, but Jill didn’t offer it, leaving him unsatisfied. “You disapprove?”
“Not at all, I’m happy for you, I just…” he didn’t know how to go about conveying his thoughts. “You’re satisfied now… but soon it’ll start to feel like a weight. The secret of it, of course… but also the pressure to do what’s expected, what you expect of yourself. To be perfect.”
“Clive wouldn’t expect that.”
“But you would. And others would.” Joshua added.
Joshua couldn’t help but project, yet Jill nodded somewhat.
“Isn’t that exhausting?” He asked, feeling exhausted simply thinking of that concept.
“I suppose.” Jill said, feeling as if she had the same thought, but never for herself. She eyed her apple briefly.
“I mean,” Joshua bit out of his apple, disliking the taste. “There’s more to life than purpose and duty, right? Purpose doesn’t beget meaning. Or at least doesn’t beget all of meaning.” He felt like a raving lunatic. Jill opted to play along.
“Then what is meaning if we don’t have purpose?” Joshua smirked at Jill’s question.
“That’s what Clive asked… and he’s never been satisfied with any answer I’ve tried to give him.” And yet he saw how Jill looked at him, not judging him, curious. “Doesn’t it feel like… their ‘ought be more?” Joshua queried. His sister pondered him.
This was a turn.
“What else ‘ought there be?”
She theoretically understood what he meant, but it was hard to hear someone advocate for independent meaning when they wore the sigil of the firebird… it was practically emblazoned on his chest. Joshua was a bird in a cage, metaphorically beating his wings in frustration. She knew that feeling all too well, but with none of his power or prestige.
Joshua couldn’t find a satisfactory answer to that. So he looked away, eying the moon and Metia above. The celestial bodies were covered in a thick pall of clouds but yet they peaked out, reminding him of a similar conversation he had at Phoenix Gate. Torgal was there too, much like he was with them now.
“Clive once said, every man has his duty, and ours was decided long ago.” Joshua murmured.
He had wanted to prove himself just like Clive did. But he wasn’t prepared for what that meant. Clive’s flowery language of “doing their duty” couldn’t compare to what they experienced.
So the idea of duty became a chain around his neck, much like it chained down Clive. Much like it was beginning to chain down Jill. It might have brought some happiness, but not for long.
“That sounds like him.” Jill offered. “My father said something like that once, before I came here. That I was doing my duty to ensure peace between our nations.” Joshua felt bitter about that concept. “Like Shiva’s duty, to weather the storm.”
“So the same way my duty is to shoulder the dominant, your duty was to become our prisoner. Sounds quite mad, honestly.”
There was a lunacy to how that sounded, it wasn’t lost on Jill.
“It’s funny how we keep allowing others to dictate our purposes.” Jill slowly said.
When Jill was healing Clive, she had wondered about when they could finally live for themselves. As much as she desperately wanted that life with Clive, she wasn’t certain that meant she should live for Clive. The same way Clive shouldn’t live for Joshua.
It reminded her much of that talk they had at the Festival of the Founder, the thought of Joshua as their warden. There was a small cold piece inside of Jill that felt so bitter about that idea, but she pushed it down easily.
“And not just that… those others mean well I’m sure, but they also grew up under the same confines of purpose that we did. So they inherit and then instill the same confines of that purpose, the framework of it. Like a thesis we have to depend on to make sense of the world.” Joshua couldn’t help but wax philosophically, once again surprising Jill. “That chain of duty becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy… a destiny we force on ourselves, because we don't know any better.”
It occurred to her that Joshua had been thinking about this for a long time.
He was just a never-ending bowl of ideas.
“So what’s the answer then? Subvert it by offing ourselves?” She wasn’t serious, of course.
“I’m not quite sure, but hopefully not that.” Joshua answered. “Subversion though… perhaps you add something the inventor never intended, a new parameter to exploit the design. You don’t escape a maze by breaking through rubble… you grow wings and make your own meaning.”
As Joshua said that, Jill couldn’t help but look at the moon and Metia.
“You spread your wings and fly.” Jill whispered. She glanced to Joshua again. “What’s it like, flying?” Her brother grew pensive.
“Not as freeing as I wished… sometimes it’s just another cage.” Only bigger, he supposes.
As Joshua said that, it began to rain.
Despite its dourness, Jill enjoyed what they spoke of. It was difficult to go through such a thought experiment with Clive, meanwhile Joshua begged for that sort of introspection. He liked to flaunt his knowledge, having a leg up on Jill in that realm.
Yet it was odd, thinking of purpose. If hers wasn’t simply to protect Clive, what ought it be then?
Before Jill could even ask such a thing, it began to rain in earnest. It started gently enough, but it built itself out, threatening to drench the duo and their dog.
So the two friends embraced this as a natural conclusion to their conversation.
Jill opted to return to the infirmary, while Joshua would take his leave with Torgal to his room, return to his books. Jill hurried in the opposite direction of him. As Jill made a turn towards the other tower, stepping past shields on their guard assignments. Looking past them waving to her, she nearly ran into a cloaked servant.
“Oh excuse me-“ Jill panicked, realizing she still carried the rapier, fearful of cutting someone.
The servant said nothing. She continued off into the rain, leaving Jill confused.
Was that one of the duchess’s ladies in waiting?
What was more confusing was when she finally reached the infirmary, discovering a guard standing outside the door, speaking to the physician.
“You can’t bar me from tending to my patient.”
“Sorry milady, but the duchess insisted this be private.”
“The duchess?” Jill asked, inserting her drenched self. The guard creased his eyes at the sight of her. “What in the Founder’s name does she want?”
A thin fury began to overtake Jill, and she was armed.
Clive was left alone in his room, his doctor has insisted upon boundaries to ensure his fiancée didn’t run herself ragged caring for him. She also insisted on boundaries to at least give him hours to sleep away from his shields. She did not enjoy her infirmary becoming a makeshift war camp, but had to surrender some give to keep the lord marquess sane.
He didn’t know how long he had nodded off, but he felt calm, hearing the pitter-patter of rain. It was a soothing force for Clive, as his gaze drifted towards the blade leaning on his table.
His sword, a weapon he had taken to using ever since misplacing the other one at that lake. But this one had faced a good amount of battle, seen wear and tear much like he had.
And looking upon that blade, he could see his own wear and tear like a mirror. He focused on a recreation of his face reflected in the faded steel. It was a hasty twist of skin which formed a scar, his hand gently reached up to grasp it, he felt that soft burn of pain as he did so.
“It is quite putrid, isn’t it?” a woman’s voice said, and Clive’s eyes darted towards the source, discovering a figure sitting at his bedside (at Jill’s seat). He looked upon a visitor he thought he’d never see in this dark dingy place (who he hadn’t seen in months, much like Jill). It was a woman, maybe twenty years his senior with a measured asymmetrical bun of blonde hair and brown eyes. She wore a deep vermillion cloak atop her intricate similarly colored gown.
His mother proceeded to say, “You’ve seen better days, Clive.” She nearly spat at enunciating his name. Clive tensed up, looking upon his mother’s face for the first time in months. Where was Jill, or the physician for that matter? As he stared at her, Clive heard a distant rumble of thunder, but his focus remained with the duchess.
“Where’s Ji-“
“Don’t worry about that whore.” She said simply, Clive wanted to snarl at such a thing, but Anabella’s chilling gaze nearly petrified him. “I wanted to speak with you alone… it’s been a long time since we’ve had this privacy. Despite the rumors, you are indeed my child.” Clive’s eyes narrowed.
He’s never really felt like her child.