Chapter Text
Rain poured down from the heavens, so much so that it was almost difficult to see mere inches past her own nose. As a child, Ilenia had been convinced that when it rained as heavily as it was now, the Unicorn was crying for the world. It had been raining just like this on the day her father had been buried.
It was only fitting that the day of her death would include such weather as well.
“I beg you, my queen. Take leave of this place while you’re still able,” Josef pleaded as he followed Ilenia into the central courtyard where the statue of the Unicorn stood.
Ilenia stared at the garden surrounding the courtyard. She had so many memories of this place, a majority of them good. She still remembered the day when Lucas had proposed to her in this exact courtyard. She had been so happy and almost carefree back then…
But things were different now and she had no time to reminisce like this.
“To where, might I ask? Nigh every last of Cornia’s lords has forsaken us in favor of the traitor Valmore,” Ilenia spat, frustration and anger mixing in her stomach viciously. She still couldn’t understand just how it had come to this. She doubted that she ever would now. She turned to Josef and let her derision drip into her voice. “No refuge remains for a crowned fugitive. Yet the general seeks my death, and mine alone. I shall not flee from that fate.”
Josef looked to protest, his eyes desperate and tear filled. She couldn’t blame him, each betrayal by her lords and generals had felt like a knife gouging into her heart. She’d lost many friends to the traitor already, even as they all still yet lived and breathed.
And now, she was going to lose her family as well.
Before Josef could say a word, Ilenia stepped forward and placed a hand on his breast plate.
“Though you still can. A sole rider, with Alain at your side,” Ilenia whispered. This was her last little bit of hope. She had already sent off her sister and niece with the Knights of the Rose, now she simply needed to secure her son…and hoped he survived. “Take him, Josef. Raise that delicate seedling into a sturdy tree capable of weathering the harsh climes that await.” Ilenia then grabbed the ring she had worn on her right ring finger for most of her life and slid it off, resting it within the center of her palm, for Josef to take. “And pray, safeguard the Ring of the Unicorn as well.”
Josef didn’t say a word, instead looking from her to the ring and back. Then with a resigned look in his eyes, he took the ring from her and held it within his own hand. Already Ilenia could see the grief of her death falling over him like a shawl, even as she still stood before him now. Her death, after all, was an inevitability of this night.
“Hold it close to you until Alain is a man grown. He will have need of the power it bears,” Ilenia insisted. Her voice didn’t shake, which she was proud of. A queen could not be seen as weak, even as she walked to meet the executioner.
“My queen, I…” Josef trailed off, wanting to protest but unable to find the words. Instead, he closed his hand around the ring and held it against his heart, a silent oath she knew he’d never break.
“Mother?” Alain called, breaking the too quiet air of the courtyard. Ilenia hadn’t even seen him enter it, so distracted she had been. She wanted to gather him in her arms and hold him close, bring him inside so he didn’t get sick. She wanted him to smile and laugh, just as all children should. “Are they coming for us?”
He was seven.
He was seven and already he knew what it was like to fear for his life.
Ilenia wanted to break down into sobs, but she knew she couldn’t. So instead, she walked over to Alain and knelt down in front of him, meeting his gaze and simply placing a hand on his shoulder. If she clutched him to her breast like she wished, she’d never be able to let him go.
“Heed well these words, Alain. I say this not as your mother, but as your queen,” she stated, firm and uncompromising. “From here forth, you’re to treat Josef’s command as though it were spoken directly with my tongue. Do you understand?”
“Of course, but…is there something amiss?” Alain questioned. He was such a bright boy and Ilenia was proud of him now and of the man he would later become.
But if Ilenia said anything more, she would break down here and now. So instead, she stood up and walked back towards Josef, only stopping once she stepped past him. She couldn’t bear to look at him or Alain.
“My faith and more lies with you, Josef. I only pray it is enough,” Ilenia declared. No matter what happened, she knew she could never look back. “Farewell, and may the heavens guide you.”
With those final words, Queen Ilenia Licorne of Cornia left her son, knowing she’d never see him again.
Ser Josef Etoile was not a man known for showing his emotions. It had been reported as one of his strong suits many times over the years: he did not allow his emotions to control his actions nor did he give in to them until he and everyone was as safe as possible.
But now, when it mattered the most, he couldn’t bring himself to simply place his emotions aside like they didn’t matter. Not when he clutched a sacred ring in his hand and a young child stared at him, confused on why he wasn’t following Ilenia.
“Why are you just standing there, Josef? Aren’t you going to help her?” Alain questioned, still so innocent even as he was starkly aware of his own mortality at so young an age.
But now this child had only Josef to rely on. He could not break down in grief until this child was safe. That was the order he had been given and one he intended to see through.
“Would that I were able, my prince,” Josef said, straightening up. Water ran down his cheeks and he firmly told himself it was simply the rain. He knelt down to Alain’s height, meeting his eyes. “Come. We’ve not a minute to spare.”
Alain nodded, understanding just how grave the situation had to be now that it had arrived. He easily went into Josef’s arms, something that only days ago he would have protested as he was too old to be held.
But war and mortality left all people wishing to be held, no matter their age.
More rain fell down Josef’s cheeks as he steeled himself, standing with his prince in his arms and quickly made his way to his horse, Leonhardt.
They had a long ride ahead of them and Josef could only pray that he would be enough for this too young boy in his arms.
As Ilenia approached the castle gates, she took a moment to glance over all that remained of her loyal lords and generals.
Sir Hodrick Bouclier, her dedicated shield. Sir Renault Chevalier, her proudest knight. Lord Jean Gailey, her ever loyal spear. Alcina, her father’s most trusted sorceress.
They were a small force and likely would not live past this night, but there was no one else she would rather have by her side. And though Ilenia wished fervently to speak with them all beforehand, to tell them that Alain, Simone and Virginia were alive and hopefully safe, she knew they did not have any such grace.
“Bar all exits to the city. The queen is not to leave these walls alive,” Valmore ordered, his voice echoing despite the rain pouring down on them all. It was a strategy she had never known her general to take before, citing it as a cowardly tactic. But all the same, it made sense for him.
After all, only a coward would betray their ruler whom they had loyally served for most of their life without any conceivable reason.
“Our ‘great’ general, reduced to little more than a base traitor, hm? You’ll find my head not so easily parted from my shoulders, Valmore. I wonder if you can say the same,” Ilenia spat, her voice as cold as Bastorias to the north.
“Come, everyone. We march this day for Her Majesty Ilenia!” Hodrick declared, raising his lance in a battle cry.
The five of them were a small, but deadly combination, just as Ilenia had known they would be. For however many mooks Valmore threw their way, she knew she and her trusted guard would succeed. That didn’t, however, make seeing the four traitors and their own retinues guarding the exits to Gran Corrine any easier to bear.
“Is that you, Your Majesty? Surely you weren’t planning to run, hmm?” Lord Giethe taunted with all the arrogance he was known for.
“Giethe of the Feathered Crest…You have all the conviction of a weathervane, coward,” Gailey spat, glaring at his former comrade. Ilenia recalled that they had once been closer, not friends but trusted comrades, nonetheless. All of that was gone now, swept away in the tsunami which consumed her home.
“And no patience for field mice, either. If I were you, I’d watch my tongue…lest you find it cut from your skull,” Giethe retaliated. His eyes were hidden behind his helmet, but Ilenia could feel his glare all the same.
There was, however, no point to this fight and so she pulled away from Giethe to face the next traitor.
“Abandon this fleeting hope, Your Majesty. You won’t escape,” Ser Bradley warned, cordial even to the last, when he was standing against her as her willing enemy. It was a sad affair all around, since she knew just how much Bradley tried to be a good knight.
“Forsaking your sworn liege, are you? You bring shame to your knightly vows,” Renault cursed. The two of them had been quite close once, Renault helping Bradley to work off some of his unresolved feelings whenever he returned from their border with Drakenhold. Ilenia had no doubt that Renault felt the sword of betrayal as deeply in his own heart as she did hers.
“Heh. Perhaps you should worry about your own predicament rather than lecture me on mine,” Bradley scoffed. But despite his words, he made no move to leave the gate he blocked, no matter how much he wished to fight them.
It was a shameful hope, but Ilenia still led her guard towards the next of the traitors. Or perhaps it wasn’t shame, but her own masochism that led her to speak to them.
“Now, now, my queen. You know I can’t let you through,” Ser Hodel taunted all too gleefully.
“Villain! To what end have you betrayed the crown?” Hodrick demanded. He knew all too well how rowdy Hodel could be, having often been the very knight Ilenia trusted to keep Hodel from worsening their foreign relations. She had always wished to believe that Hodel was simply too much a fan of adrenaline rather than a true bully at heart. But betrayal has the habit of unveiling every aspect of a person.
“Hmph. The only master I bow to is one with the might to rule, and Valmore has proven himself more than worthy,” Hodel declared, his head held high and his lance glistening wickedly in the rain. “Though…perhaps I would reconsider, should Her Majesty claim his head.”
Ilenia highly doubted that and even if she did trust Hodel’s word, she had no time to deal with such traitorous scum. And yet, she had to face the last, to be certain that they were all truly lost to her and not simply bowing their heads in fear.
“A valiant effort, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid there’s no escape for you,” Lord Reimann stated firmly, staring down at Ilenia and her guard. His eyes, however, were focused solely on Alcina.
“Look who’s come crawling out of his cellar. Who knew all it would take was a little treason?” Alcina mocked, not backing down from his gaze. She may have been gone from the palace for several years, but her dislike of Reimann and his research was well known. Ilenia had even consulted her on how to curb said research just months ago.
“Mock me all you want, witch. You’ll never understand the value of my research,” Reimann snarled, his head raised with all the arrogance of a noble who thought he was owed the world.
Ilenia didn’t dare say another word, instead pulling her guard back as they finally turned to face Valmore.
“Seize her,” Valmore ordered the battalion of men at his back. Two of them charged forth with a wave of his arm, but they were no match for Ilenia’s blade, infused with the mighty wave of Alcina’s magic as it was. Her sword cut through their shields like butter and before long, the two soldiers laid lifeless on the courtyard ground.
Ilenia didn’t stop, however. Instead, she continued charging forward, intent on removing Valmore’s head from his shoulders just as quickly as she had stolen the lives of his men. But she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Valmore, after all, had been one of her trusted generals for a reason and his axe clashed with her sword, throwing her back to create space between them.
Her retinue of guards remained at her back, loyal as ever, waiting for her signal.
“Enlighten me, Valmore. To what end do you seek to usurp my throne?” Ilenia demanded, her grip on her sword as tight as it had ever been.
“Self-centered fool. It’s not merely your throne I aspire towards—it’s all of them,” Valmore declared. Ilenia could hear the smug smile in his voice and never before had it sent shivers down her spine like it did in that moment. “Zenoira are the rightful sovereigns of Fevrith, and I, the blade to restore our world to its natural order.”
“You seek to plunge the continent into war? Hmph. Fevrith need not suffer your delusions,” Ilenia scoffed, even as her heart ached in her chest. The general she had once counted as a friend, who she’d spent nights drinking tea with as they discussed their shared interests in botany and various forms of martial arts, was gone. But she could mourn for him later, once his body was as dead as his soul.
“A proper ruler demands unity, not pointless politicking with insufferable neighbors,” Valmore argued, disgust evident in his voice. “Now…I shall achieve that unity through conquest and reclaim that which is rightfully mine.”
“I would sooner see you slayed by my hand!” Ilenia declared, raising her hand. With that cry, she and her four most trusted allies charged forth, taking Valmore and his own guard head on.
The rain fell viscously from the sky, as if each drop were a sword piercing Josef’s skin even through the thick protection of his inconspicuous brown cloak. Or perhaps it was the force of Josef’s own grief as he held Alain in his arms and fled the only home the boy had ever known.
Alain was curled in his arms, clutching onto Josef’s cloak with his eyes squeezed shut as if he were much younger than his seven years. He felt so young to Josef, for all the pain the boy had already lived through. His father to illness, and now both his home and his mother to war.
No one at his age should have to experience so many traumatic changes and at so quick a pace too. If Josef could have his way, he would never allow such sorrow to touch the boy’s eyes like this again.
He would not fail his queen in this.
“I promise you, my queen, the royal lineage shall endure. ‘Tis but a great shame I couldn’t aid you further…” Josef whispered quietly, fervently. There was no way for Ilenia to hear his words, he knew that, but they were all he had.
That, and the boy clutched oh so carefully in his arms.
Josef tightened his grasp and urged Leonhardt faster.
Alain’s mind was so foggy…
It felt almost like he was separated from his body, suspended in darkness as he was clutched against a hard, cold chest. His mind told him that it was armor he was leaning on, but that was the only thing that was clear. Everything else was awash in mist, leaving him helpless to do anything except clutch on as tight as he could, lest he drift away entirely.
Alain shivered, feeling rain soak into his skin and hair despite the fabric covering him. Or maybe it was tears…he had been crying, hadn’t he?
But…why?
Something…something bad had happened. Something he couldn’t stop, no matter how much he wanted to. He felt almost as if a sword had been driven into his chest and was twisting his heart, the edges of the blade catching on muscles and nerves as it did so.
It hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt!
"What is hurting?"
Had he said it aloud? Alain didn't know, all he could focus on was the terror. He wanted it gone, he wanted it to go away.
In Alain’s mind, the memories shifted as the mist covered them. Within the mist, they began to change, blurring before his mind’s eye into something different.
The statue of the unicorn in the middle of Gran Corrine was suddenly so far away. The yells for the queen’s head became distant, as if they were calling for somebody else. The crown resting on top of his mother’s head became a headband, the unicorn insignia she wore now a sword wielding mercenary on a horse, his mind insisting it was the symbol of a mercenary group, no, his mother’s mercenary group.
General Valmore became nothing more than a distant figure, someone he looked up to and wanted to be like when he was young. Not now, though, not anymore.
And the man holding him now was his adopted father, fleeing the battle outside Gran Corrine at his mother’s orders, to keep their son away from the battlefield until she could return to them.
If she ever returned to them.
He sunk deeper and deeper into his own mind, burying away every trace of the truth until only a traumatized little boy remained.
One of the two remaining lights of hope for Cornia had just dimmed.
The throne room in the palace in Gran Corrine had never been so dark and dreary as it was that night, lit only by the briefest flashes of lightning and a few sparks of torches as those who were never meant to claim the throne stepped within it.
“All has gone according to plan, my lord,” the necromancer, Baltro, declared, bowing his head in reverence to Valmore.
“And yet our work only just begins,” Valmore laughed, his voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. This room, where he had once bowed his head before a fraudulent queen, a woman unworthy of the throne, which he now claimed for himself. “We stand now at a new dawn for Fevrith. One which will see Zenoira’s dominion restored at last. Curious, though, that we’ve no trace of the old knight’s captain.”
The air hung in the room for a moment, nobody willing to deliver the news to their new ruler. However, it must be said, less Valmore discovered the truth later and had their heads for deceiving him.
“About that, my lord. A lone calvary unit was spotted riding through the eastern gate before it was barred,” Baltro explained. The entire room held its breath, waiting for Valmore’s reaction.
“…Then the boy is lost to us, a truth obscured only by his mother’s futile attempt at a counteroffensive,” Valmore summarized, surprisingly calm considering the news. He continued speaking, frustration now coating his tone. “It would seem I underestimated her penchant for deception.”
Silence once more hung over the throne room until Valmore suddenly slammed his fist onto the arm of the throne, startling all who gathered within.
“The boy can come later,” he hissed, anger seeping through his tone. “We have work to do.”
“Of course, my lord,” Baltro agreed, bowing once more.
And indeed, they did have work to do.
A conquest does not happen, after all, without a conqueror.
And though it was General Valmore who had stepped into Gran Corrine with the intention of conquering it that same night, it was Emperor Galerius who left the palace, intent on bringing the entirety of Fevrith back to where it belonged: under the rule of Zenoira.