Work Text:
Some unrelenting instinct had overtaken her.
Martlet had politely told Starlo and Ceroba to go on without her, that she’d meet them up ahead. As to why, she was still unsure. Something just felt wrong . There was unfinished business to tend to.
So now here she stands, wings clasped in front of her, faced away from the balcony and the tree where her life took one final turn for the worse. The cold air of New Home caressing her face. And, of course, wondering desperately where humans go when they die.
Clover. Her poor sweet Clover who didn’t deserve a second of the misery they underwent. What will become of them? When they’re finally free from this prison, will they even get to be remembered? They’ve earned it, sure, but will they get it?
Is life so unfair that… this is where their story ends?
Martlet closes her eyes and clenches her wings into fists, moving them to her sides and tensing up to hold back tears. There is at least something to make of this, right? They went out with a cause, on their own volition. They’d earned that right.
And perhaps in some other universe, the two of them met on less joyous terms. Perhaps in some other timeline Martlet met a crueler human, more like the ones she’d been warned about, that incentivized her to visit that lab again as a last-ditch effort. Or something.
Martlet feels this strongly. An oddly specific scenario that follows her into her nightmares. So why isn’t she more grateful that this beautiful story—one with a moral, one with meaning—has played out instead?
…Behind her, Clover is silently clutching at their chest, feeling their legs give out beneath them. The world is spinning. An intense, unignorable air of malaise. It’s cold. And the pain, God, the pain .
They had told Ceroba they’d be alright alone. That she could go on ahead, and not to worry about them. They hadn’t anticipated much.
Surely they’re all long gone by now, off to deliver Clover’s SOUL to the king. That’s comforting. That’s how this is supposed to end. That’s-...
… An intense rising pain overtakes their chest, worse than before. With a sharp inhale, they weakly, selfishly they think, call for help. Not even completely sure they could manage the words. Maybe they just mouthed it.
Unexpectedly, someone… is by their side in an instant.
Martlet, having been on high alert, had heard this near-silent call. With a quick flap of her wings for momentum, she ran back to Clover without even thinking about it. Now, she kneels down and cups their face in her hands. “Oh, Clover. You’re- You’re still…”
“...’m sorry…”
They hadn’t wanted things to end on a bitter note like this. But Martlet just shushes them as she cradles them in her wings, gently rocking them back and forth in a way that soothes them in spite of their pain.
“No, nonono. Shh. I’m so glad I stayed behind. It’s okay, I’m here now…”
…Her grip, however, is notably, emotionally tight, her pain clear through her body language. Clover, wanting to comfort their friend, tries to lift their arms and return the hug, but they’re far too lethargic to even think about moving. Instead, they choke on a sob. …Just makes them a little nauseous.
Martlet continues to whisper. “It’s okay, it’s okay…”
“... hurts …”
“I know. I’m so sorry. I’ve got you, Clover, I’ve got you. Just relax.”
Clover finds themself melting into her embrace a little, calming down. This is nice. Hurts, but it’s nice. A good sendoff to living— almost feeling alive, in the presence of the one monster who never wanted to leave their side. “...thanks.”
“Don’t-” Martlet seems taken aback, but quickly gathers herself. She strokes their hair gently, tucking a bit of it behind their ear. “Don’t thank me. I should thank you. You did a good thing, Clover. And it’s scary, I know… you’ve earned the right to rest, okay? Earned it a long time ago.”
“...okay.” They calmly exhale…
“We all love you so much, Clover. You’ve been so brave. I’m so sorry I left you behind in the Dunes. And let you go to the Steamworks with Ceroba, and… I’m sorry for every time I put you in danger. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
…but they don’t inhale again. Almost like they needed explicit permission to die.
“...Clover?”
…
The realization hits Martlet pretty hard: she's been apologizing to a corpse. Hanging her head, she can’t hold back her tears anymore. She can only hold them close and cry. This grip only gets tighter for several seconds before she suddenly stops and lets go, afraid of hurting them.
… wait.
… Whatever. It’s still important to consider, right? Right.
… Martlet pulls her fallen friend closer and finds herself stroking their hair in a comforting gesture once again. …Then, wondering if it still means anything.
She turns to look up. There is no beautiful view above her, no stars to accompany her in her moment of need—nothing to pray to. There are only cave ceilings and a general sense of discomfort, of hopelessness.
These are just things that come with being a monster. Alternatively, just things that come with being Martlet of the Royal Guard. There are no happy endings and there are no good things.
Martlet pulls herself to her feet, Clover in her arms.
… She should go catch up with the others. Maybe find the kid a proper resting place on the way. There is work to do.