Chapter Text
In this world that ends on the morrow,
For what shall we wish?
For what shall we pray?
+++
The Warrior of Light is no longer herself.
Alphinaud comes to this conclusion as he observes her silently, her fingers fidgeting as she perches at the edge of her seat. They are in the Fortemps Manor guest room, warm tea in hand and plush chairs beneath them, next to a bed in which a silver-haired Elezen lays, sound asleep. Lord Haurchefant had injured himself in the fiasco earlier at the Vault. It is nothing life-threatening, though Alphinald shudders to think what would have been had the Warrior of Light not intercepted the spear of light in time.
She had cried, though, right afterwards. The Warrior of Light, all stoic nods and placid smiles, never for a moment letting her feelings slip past her emotionless mask, had dropped to her knees right there and then, and wept .
It was from that moment onwards that Alphinald started to notice. Her face is more haggard than it was that very morning, dark circles he’d never seen before beneath her eyes. There are scratches and cuts marring her body that surely weren’t there moments ago. And when Haurchefant held her, first by the shoulders and then in a crushing embrace, asking over and over again if she was truly unharmed, she was trembling all over, her knuckles white as she grasped at his chainmail of his unbroken armour, as if he’d disappear the very next second.
The door to the room opens. Her eyes instantly widen, and her weapon is drawn. She stands herself between Haurchefant and the door, extending a hand as if to keep him out of sight, all but ready to kill.
The chirusurgeon recoils in shock and almost drops the tray of medicine he is holding. It took him a full minute, even after she had sheathed her weapon, to recompose himself.
“C-Count Edmont, um, noticed you were injured as well and ordered me to tend to your wounds…”
“I’m fine,” she waves dismissively, but her expression softens ever so slightly. “I mean… maybe later. Pass the count my thanks. I would like a private word with Alphi here for a moment.”
At least she is still willing to entrust me with her worries, Alphinald thinks, slightly more relieved. “My friend,” he tells her, “I may not know much - neither am I the wisest - but I am willing to give my counsel and assistance to the best of my abilities.”
“Would you believe me if I said I’ve gone through this hundreds - no, thousands of times?”
“I’m afraid I do not understand, in spite of which you have my fullest attention. Gone through what, exactly?”
“This - everything,” the Warrior of Light sweeps her hand across the room and lets it drop, as if the simple act has already drained her. “Everything, from the start to the finish. Arriving in Ishgard. The Vault, Thordan, Nidhogg. Doma. The First. The Final Days. Everything. Just... Without him.”
The sickly glow from the fireplace flickers across her face, accentuating the shadows beneath her eyes as Alphinald struggles to wrap his head around her words.
“My friend, I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate…”
She nods, but the hand buried in her hair betrays the hurricane of memories swirling in her mind. What follows after is the strangest tale Alphinald would not have dared believe had it been under any other circumstance, or come from anyone other than the Warrior of Light.
So much achieved in so short a time, so much gained and yet so much lost…
“We came back on the Ragnarok and I thought that was the end of it all, but then came that wandering minstrel with that offer and those what-ifs, and I just couldn’t refuse… I wasn’t sure he really was the real deal, but he said he’d rewind time if I could put on a good show. I had to go through the same damn thing over and over again until I finally figured out how to change it, and, well, here we are.”
She glossed over what she had really gone through, Alphinald realises. In the hundreds, no, thousands of times she failed, she would have had to witness Lord Haurchefant’s sacrifice over and over again, bathed in tears and helplessness and despair, battled in spite of mortal injuries, died , and then started all over again in hopes that something changed.
How does one retain their sanity after all of that? He wants to ask.
Or rather, does one still retain their sanity after all of that?
But for now she simply sits in silence, her eyes fixated on the figure lying in bed, and Alphinald decides to address the more important issue at hand.
“What do you think is going to happen now? I assume this current… timeline is going to turn out differently from the original.”
“I don’t know,” she says simply, but the fire burning low in her eyes says more. It no longer matters as long as he’s alive and well - that is what she has left unspoken.
“And what of Lord Haurchefant?”
“I don’t know.”
I want to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him safe. I want to have him with me on my adventures and be my sword and shield. I want to lock him up in a room only I hold the key to. I want to show him the whole world and beyond, and hold his hand every single moment.
“You love him,” states Alphinald. The fate of the entire world may have been put into chaos, but this one thing is clear.
“I do.”
“...And honestly, Alphi? The world may crash and burn because of what I did, but I can’t bring myself to care anymore.”
+++++
The Warrior of Light is no longer herself.
It didn't take long before other scions noticed too. No shocking revelation surprises her in the slightest. In battle, she looks like she expects every attack and every move, barely batting an eyelid as she dodges, dives and swerves with overly-practised familiarity.
It is only the occasional misstep, or the brief furrow of her brows, that gives it away: that the course they are now going down is a little different from what she remembers, their enemies a little stronger, and that they are hurtling down a path that deviates further and further from the world she had left behind, the world that, just barely, was spared a horrendous fate.
In spite of which, the Warrior of Light races forward, and blazes a burning path through her enemies with a might that turns even the most exaggerated tales of heroines of eld pale in comparison. And in her wake, her knight in shining armour stays by her side every step of the way. The presence of Lord Haurchefant - or rather, simply Haurchefant, now that he has joined them as a member of the Scions - has a singular, invigorating effect on her. In his company, the Warrior of Light smiles, makes small talk, and even allows herself moments of respite, eyes closed, nestled against his shoulder, her expression almost peaceful. They will go on to return triumphant from the Azim Steppe astride their personal Mol birds, play a duet on the double piano in the Firmament as its residents shower them with confetti and adoration, and sit atop the highest building in ghost Amaurot in silent memory of a haunched figure that was every bit a friend as he was an enemy. He is her light, for he is the one basis of her happiness, and he is her shadow, for he never leaves her side. And Alphinald knows - from the Warrior of Light’s doting smile as her lover takes his first bite of the Last Stand’s famous burger and proceeds to brim with excitement befitting a child rather than a seasoned knight, and from her steely gaze as they rush, steps in sync, into one battle after another - that she does not regret a single moment of this.
And she continues to regret nothing, even as the Final Days loom closer and a solution remains nowhere to be found. The threads of fate have unravelled and she has long noticed, yet she grasps her beloved’s hand tight, and turns away.
The minstrel’s words are the final nail in the coffin, quite literally. In this alternate timeline, he has stated quite simply, his gaze on the warrior of light keen as that of an eagle, there is no salvation for this world. Etheirys is to be destroyed. The fortunate, select few may escape with the aid of the Loporrits, and all else of this planet shall fade from existence, despite its residents’ relentless struggles.
Then there is nothing more to do other than fight till we can fight no more , Aphinald thinks, as he and Alisaie take off to Garlemald, where they have decided to spend the last of their time on Etheirys. They would have spent the last of their lives there too, without hesitation, had their father not made them swear that they will keep themselves alive and board the last flight the Ragnarok can make to the moon.
Alphinald catches one last glimpse of the Warrior of Light that day, and the sight burns into his mind like a searing brand that he knows will haunt him till his last breath.
She is smiling, her usual, placid smile. She has one hand raised, waving goodbye. The other is interlocked with Haurchefant’s, tight. Both her eyes and the skies against which she stands, contre jour, are alight with the glow of something fierce, something burning, something blazing with the full, clear realisation that it will soon die.
Alphinald realises, in that moment, that despite her promises to rejoin the rest on the moon, this will be the last time he sees her.
He is not mistaken.
+++++
The warrior of light is no longer herself.
She has relieved herself of her weapon and battle gear, and her shoulders of the weight of the world. In the dying light of a sun that is setting for the very last time, she and the one and only soul she cares about make their way through the snow, up the gentle slope that ends with a sheer drop, a place she has both visited thousands of times, and not at all. They stand, their silhouette framed against a burning red sky.
Here, they are simply themselves, in plain, comfortable garb that they will be wearing later too when they fall asleep for the last time, in each others’ arms.
“Did you know that they made you a monument here, back in the worlds where you died? And in every single one of them, Francel visited daily; I ran into him all the time.”
“He never blamed me, neither did Edmont, your brothers, anyone, really - and I know you wouldn’t either - but I have never stopped blaming myself.”
“Maybe that’s why I jumped at the opportunity to do it all over again. Heck, this could all have been part of a fever dream. Or I could have died out there in Ultima Thule and made this all up in my head… Or it could be real, I’ve made it to another timeline, just didn’t do it correctly enough to be able to save the world like I did before.”
“But really, I don’t care. I just want to see you again, and do all the things we couldn’t, even if under a crest of borrowed time. I have died a thousand times for this - I will have it.”
The sun dips low in the crimson horizon, dying the silver-blue hair of the figure beside her blood-red. But here and now, at least, he is alive, and right here .
And the Warrior of Light turns to him, extends a hand, and smiles the smile of a weary traveller whose never-ending journey has finally come to its conclusion.
“And now - Shall we share one last dance, my knight in shining armour?”
+++
In this world that ends on the morrow,
You heart shall be all I wish for,
And your life shall be all I pray for.