Work Text:
The village outside was a riot of celebration. To the people, these were the three paragons of hope, three great heroes departing to slay the witch. But inside the stone walls of the war room, the air was thick enough to choke on.
“So, Reid,” Farsale broke the tension, his eyes weary. “Can you actually fight her? Matching the Witch head-on?”
“Who the hell you talkin’ to, you piss-ant?” Reid spat. He leaned against the wall, picking his teeth with a splinter of wood. “I don’t need a lecture from a suit.”
Farsale turned his gaze upward. “And you, Volcanica?”
The Great Dragon’s voice did not just vibrate the air; it vibrated deep in their bones. “I shall stay the tide of ruin, ensuring the fires of this cleansing touch not the lands beyond. Thy concern is noted, yet unnecessary.”
“And Flugel…” Farsale whispered, looking toward the corner.
The hooded figure did not move. He sat in a vacuum of sound, his presence so thin it was as if he were already a ghost. The shadows seemed to lean toward him, elongating his silhouette against the cold floor. He didn't nod, he didn't breathe a word. He was a hollow silence.
“Flugel? You are the only one who can end this tragedy. Have you prepared your heart for what must be done?”
“Shut your trap, small fry,” Reid snapped. “He’ll do what needs doin'.”
"Then the matter is settled. I have already seen the evacuations. From the Witch’s direct path to the surrounding lands, I have cleared the way. Your departure is set for the morrow's first light."
The world had drowned. It was no longer a battlefield; it was a sea of ink, an abyss where the concept of "light" had been strangled to death.
On the perimeter, the chaos was absolute. Reid was a blur of steel and vulgarity, his blade screaming through the air as he cleaved through thousand-foot limbs of darkness. “Is that all?! Come on, you shadow-ridden witch! Give me a real fight!”
Above, the sky was a canvas of holy fire. Volcanica roared, his breath a pillar of white light that scorched the encroaching miasma. “Thou shalt not pass this threshold, O' daughter of mine!”
But in the center of the carnage, the world was eerily, terrifyingly still.
Flugel walked. He did not run, he did not hide. As he moved, the very shadows that were trying to tear Reid’s throat out began to ripple. They didn't attack him. They reached out with a sickening, tender grace, caressing his cloak and brushing against his hands like the fingers of a lover. They didn't obstruct his path, they paved it.
He reached the center, where the silver-haired girl stood amidst the vortex. Her eyes—violet, weeping—never left his. To her, Reid and Volcanica were nothing more than annoying insects to be swatted away. Only Flugel existed.
He didn't speak. He simply stepped into the darkness and pulled the girl into a crushing embrace.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,” she repeated the confession of her love, her voice a broken mantra.
“--------” Flugel finally spoke. The word was a spell, a key turning in a lock that should never have been made. The shadows let out a collective moan, retreating back into the girl's trembling frame. She swayed, her strength spent, but Flugel held her upright.
Reid and Volcanica approached, their faces grim masks.
“Aren't you going to ask me something?” Flugel’s voice was a dry rasp, breaking the silence.
“Ask what, you small fry,” Reid scoffed, though his eyes were uncharacteristically soft. “I never pegged you for a real fighter anyway. You’re too soft for the real work.”
Volcanica lowered his massive head, his golden eyes dimming with grief. “Forgive me Mine daughter... My heart is heavy with the weight of my failure. I couldst not save thee from this fate.”
“Give ‘em a minute, you overgrown lizard,” Reid grunted, grabbing the Dragon by his snout. “Let’s leave the kids to their misery.”
As the dragon and the stick-swinger retreated, Flugel collapsed, his knees hitting the earth with a dull thud. He didn't just weep, he fell apart. His fingers clawed into the fabric of Satella’s dress, as if he could physically hold her soul in place. He began to shake, tears hot and bitter splashing onto her dress.
“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry I couldn't kill you,” he choked out. “I’m a fraud. A pathetic, useless fraud. I was supposed to be the one who fixed this. But I can't kill you—I don't have the heart. And I can't save you—I don't have the power. I’m just... I’m burying you alive. I’m locking you in a cage, and I’m leaving you there to rot in the dark forever.”
Satella did not flinch. She didn't offer words of comfort nor did she rebuke him for his weakness. Instead, with a tenderness that felt like a sin in this dying world, she guided his head down until his forehead rested against her lap.
It was a lap pillow—a mundane, peaceful gesture, something that would normally comfort now twisted a jagged blade in his heart.
“Subaru, look at me,” she whispered, her voice a soft caress. He looked up, his vision a blurred smear of violet and silver. “You have saved the world from me. You have saved me from myself. That is enough.”
“No, it’s not! How is that saving?! I am just leaving you to suffer alone!”
“It will be fine.” Satella said, as she tenderly wiped away his tears. “I will be watching you from within. So make sure to... live a happy life.”
“How?! I can’t be happy without you!” He wept until his lungs burned, his face buried in her lap as the cold grip of the seal began to hum in the air. As his strength finally ebbed into a hollow exhaustion, he looked up at her visage, trying to memorize every curve of her face.
“You know... when I first got here, I had these stupid fantasies.” he said, a hysterical, self-deprecating edge to his voice. “I thought I’d be a hero. I thought a beautiful princess would greet me and give me some 'Cheat' power to make everything easy. I was so arrogant, so incredibly stupid.”
Satella let out a soft, melodic giggle. “Hehe... that does sound silly. But you aren't a fool, Subaru. You’ve done more than any hero could.”
“I had another dream, too,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “After I met you, I stopped caring about being a hero. I just… I just wanted to be by your side. I had this dream—it was so clear. You were going to be the princess and I was going to be your knight in shining armor.”
His trembling fingers reached up, hovering tentatively near her ears, tracing the air where a crown should be. “I was going to give you crowns,” he choked out. “Real ones. Jewels and gold that would put the sun to shame... instead of this cheap stupid hair clip you keep wearing.”
“Don’t,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. Her touch was cooling, the heat of her life already retreating. “Don’t talk bad about this clip. It is a gift more precious to me than any crowns or jewels.”
“I was serious this time,” he cried out, his voice cracking. “I really thought I’d fulfill it. I will take on the whole world for you. I will make you a Queen… the whole world will sing praises of you.”
“It’s okay, Subaru.” she said, her voice thin as the seal began to crystallize. She leaned down, her silver hair falling around them like a curtain, shielding him from the sight of his own work. “You will find her. That princess, you have dreamed of. Someone who will earn that knight’s heart of yours… the world will love both of you.”
“But I don't want anyone else! I want you!”
“It will be fine. You’ll also love her just as much. You’ll have to... ” She whispered, a single tear falling from her eye and splashing onto his cheek. It felt colder than ice. “You will have to just forget about me.”
Flugel didn’t understand. Those words were nonsense to him. Love who? Forget what? He opened his mouth to tell her how ridiculous her words were. As if he could ever love someone else, but the words died in his throat.
She wasn’t smiling anymore. Her expression simply... broke.
Flugel froze. It wasn't the confusion of her words that stopped his heart, but the look in her eyes. It was a look of total, quiet mourning—of someone already abandoned and forgotten.
An unbearable, instinctual dread clawed at his chest. He couldn't put a name to the terror, but every nerve in his body screamed a warning. It was a primal urge to deny her, to tear those words out of the air and bury them. He needed to shout his denial, to scream it until the world shook, to make her take back that look.
But before he could force the cry out from his throat, the light snapped. The warmth of her lap vanished. The scent of her hair was snuffed out. His hands, which had been clutching soft fabric, were suddenly grinding into cold, jagged stone.
Flugel didn't move. He stayed there, his forehead pressed against the rough surface of the seal. For a long moment, there was no sound but the ragged, wet hitch of his own breathing. Then, the first sob broke through—a jagged, ugly sound that tore out of his throat.
"I won’t forget you! Never!" he shrieked, his frame shaking with violent, rhythmic tremors as he slammed his fist against the cold rock. "I don’t give a damn about any princess! You hear me?! I don't want anyone else!" Tears streamed down again, hot and stinging, dripping onto the seal where her face had been moments before. "To hell with the world and its praise! If you're in the dark, then I'll be in the dark too. I’m staying right here!" He clawed at the rock. "I will never forget you! I won't! Never! I will..." He clawed until his fingertips bled, leaving dark, messy streaks on the monolith. "Forget You Not."
He collapsed against the base of the seal, his cheek pressed to the cold stone, weeping with the desperation of a child left behind. He was supposed to be a hero who had won the battle, a sage who had sealed the darkness, and yet he felt like the smallest, most pathetic thing in existence.
The dread he had felt before didn't go away, it settled deep in his marrow. Unbeknownst to him, uncaring of him, the gears of a cruel fate had already begun to turn.