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I should have seen it coming.
That was what Elwin thought when a man in Rosarian uniform looked down on him, the blood of a dead Stolas on his hands.
I should have seen it coming.
He had known his visions for the future made him dangerous. He had known that he would make enemies.
He had just not expected them to come from within his own ranks.
I should have seen it coming.
They were after the Phoenix, of course. His son, so small and fragile and frightened behind him, so fierce as he grabbed his tiny sword.
[Stay back, I'm warning you!]
He had time to feel the spark of fear, of rage - how dare they come for his son -
[Run, Joshua!]
- before the flash of steel cut every thought short.
I wish I could see them.
Could there be a thought, a wish, when the body was already dead? If there could, then this was what Elwin wished for.
I wish I could see them.
See Clive grow into the man he was already becoming. See Joshua grow and become strong. See him... happy. Had he ever been happy, since he had understood what it meant to be born with the power of the Phoenix living in his too-fragile body? Elwin wished he could see it. Just once.
In Rosaria, the dead were burned. Their ashes were cast over a cliff or into a river, to rejoin the living world in the cycle of rebirth. Their souls were carried away by the fire, to live within the firebird's eternal flame. The embers that sparked from the pyre were said to carry the dead's last wishes into the heavens, to Metia.
Elwin's pyre was made from Phoenix fire, flames roaring and raging and swallowing his body in an instant. Embers sparked, bright enough to drown out the light of the stars.
Perhaps it was that the heavens could not ignore a fire like this, and the wish that rode on its wings. Perhaps it was the power of the Phoenix himself, life and death and rebirth. Perhaps it was the firebird's apology to his kin who would never get a proper send off as his body was eaten by the Eikon's rage.
Perhaps.
But more than two decades after his death, Elwin opened his eyes.
********
There were flowers.
They were sitting in wild flowerbeds like clouds of colour, swaying gently in a mild breeze and spreading their sweet scent. They were pooling around the feet of slender apple trees and climbing wooden walls and railings on spiralling vines. It was a garden, but no kind of garden Elwin had ever seen; structures of wood and Fallen arches rose on all sides, a staircase winding upwards into the unknown. Water was gurgling nearby, but instead of a stream, the sound seemed to originate from metal pipes that were almost hidden under the dense foliage.
It was a strange kind of afterlife.
He stood next to a cluster of lanterns that burned brightly despite the sun high in the sky. The lanterns were painted red and gold, the small flames casting a warm glow on the leaves and soil around them. They were scattered all across the garden, nestled between the flowers, hanging from the branches of the apple trees, lining the staircase all the way to the top. They were the kind of lanterns that were lit in Rosaria to celebrate joyous occasions - the return of spring, the turn of the year, a child being born or coming of age.
Curiously enough, the lanterns were not the only signs of celebration. There, in one of the trees, Sanbrequois prayer beads caught the sun, their intricate etchings shining like molten silver. Wound around a wooden railing was a Dhalmekian luck charm made from interwoven bands of colourful fabric. These figures made from bone came from the Northern Territories, and this carving... Elwin had never seen anything like it before, but the runes looked like they had originated from Ash.
It made his heart ache with something. There were many beliefs in the Twins that told of a version of an afterlife. But could it be that in death at last, they would all be one, all war and strife forgotten? It was a wondrous thought.
As he was still sunken in reverent observation, a woman came down the stairs with a basket in hand. Elwin only noticed her when the last of the steps gave a pitiful groan under her weight, and it seemed strange that the stairs in the afterlife would be in disrepair. But he did not dwell on it, because she was the first person he had seen since he had opened his eyes in this place.
Was she dead as well?
She was young, too young to be dead, but the world did not care about the cruelty of such things. The woman did not seem to care either, as she spared him not a single glance.
'Greetings', Elwin said.
The woman turned towards him, stepped closer - and walked straight through him.
He felt warmth. The thrum of a heartbeat, the brightness of life, suddenly making him painfully aware that he lacked the same.
He stumbled, turned around numbly to watch her head towards one of the flowerbeds. She knelt down and begun to gather herbs into her basket.
It was as if his eyes had been opened a second time - he saw the life that seemed to surround her like a glow, and when he stretched out a hand and watched his fingers glide through a cluster of yellow blossoms, he felt the same life in the delicate petals. Everything around him was brimming with it, even the air that now carried the sound of distant voices - shouting, laughter - to his ears.
No, this was not the afterlife. How could it be, if he was the only dead thing here?
But then.... why was he here?
The voices somewhere above called out to him with their joy and their vibrancy. And so, when the woman rose from the ground, brushed the dirt off her dress and began heading back up the stairs, he followed her.
********
It was strange to walk without feeling his own weight. Without hearing the sound of his footsteps, or the rustle of his clothes. Without even disturbing the air around him - it passed through him just like the people.
The people were everywhere. People from all corners of the Twins, those with and without brands chatting and laughing alike without distinction. People in their best clothes, even if most of the fabrics were simple and worn. The men wore flowers on their breasts, the women colourful ribbons in their hair. There was the buzz of celebration in the air, even now when most were still hurrying hither and yon to decorate one more railing, set out one more plate on the long banquet tables, light one more lantern.
The lanterns were everywhere, almost as numerous as the flowers that grew on every available surface. The strange airy building Elwin had found himself in would have looked like an overgrown ruin with the amount of vines that climbed up its support beams and spread across the walls like tapestries, but the structure was obviously being maintained meticulously and the plants trimmed just enough to not hinder the residents' everyday life. Elwin found more tokens like the ones in the gardens nestled into the foliage - beads, charms, carvings - but the Rosarian lanterns seemed the most numerous. They shone a little brighter when he walked past them, and their flames flickered merrily when he brushed the colourful casings with ghostly fingers.
It was not so surprising. Everyone in Rosaria knew that the souls of the dead lived on in flame.
He kept following the woman as she easily made her way through the labyrinth of halls and walkways and platforms and stairs. The crowd forced her to walk slowly, but Elwin did not mind. It gave him more time to watch. Walking without direction and immediate worry in mind was a luxury he'd not often had the opportunity to enjoy in life, and where better to do it now than in a place like this. Did it truly exist, somewhere in the Twins? Had it existed even back when he had been alive, hidden away? A place built by people who shared his dream, only they had succeeded far past a few political reforms. It was truly marvelous to behold.
The building, he learned as they kept walking, rose in the middle of a lake. Built on top and inside of a Fallen ruin, it was its own little island of life amidst the calm waters. In the distance, Elwin could spy rocky shores flecked with green that seemed to spread outwards from the lake. Simple buildings lined the shore in places, young settlements from which boats travelled across the lake and towards its centre.
Then they vanished from sight, because Elwin's guide slipped through a doorway and into a busy kitchen. It was a cramped space, most of it already filled with a feast fit for the crowd outside. There were dishes from all different nations, but Elwin recognized a few traditionally Rosarian decorations sprinkled all throughout, even though the Sanbrequois touches were just as numerous.
Elwin strolled along the counters - and sometimes through them because this way, he could dodge most of the people working there. It allowed him to take a closer look at the decorations; Phoenix designs were an intricate language of their own, each reserved for their own special occasion. The firebird that was depicted in golden dough or the frosting of the cake that rose in the middle of table was looking down, lowering its wings to both sides in blessing. Uniting two souls under the same flame.
A wedding was certainly an explanation for all the excitement.
Even here the joyous anticipation was being felt as several people were still milling about in the cramped space, adding the finishing touches to the feast while also dodging the children that were slinking around their feet in hopes of finding a stash of unguarded sweets. The sight brought a smile to Elwin's lips. There had been a time when Clive and Joshua had done the same, before they had been forced to grow up far too quickly. Those had been precious days, when they had still been small enough to curl up in his lap when Anabella had not been looking, when they would ambush him in the halls, giggling and tugging at his sleeves. By the time they had been as old as the children sneaking past him now, the weight of duty had already smothered that spark.
A boy flitted past, blond hair flying. He was not much younger than Joshua had been when...
When...
Elwin's hand clawed at his throat as suddenly he remembered the feeling of sharp steel cutting through flesh and sinew. The quiet wonder he had been feeling until now disappeared, washed away by the memory of his own heartbeat, too loud in his ears.
They had been fighting, right. They had... they had been betrayed.
Clive had gone to hold them off, and Joshua...
Joshua had been right behind him, he had been there when...
By the Flames.
What had become of his sons? Had they survived? He would know... would he not? Would he?
Why was he here?
'Elwin, hands off the cake!'
Still halfway tangled in his own spiralling thoughts, he had clasped his hands behind his back like a scolded school boy before his mind could even stumble over the fact that he had not been touching any cake.
Or that no one until now had been able to see him.
He looked around in confusion, the taste of iron fading away. It was not hard to spot the source of the voice - the woman was the only one who was not moving around with purpose but standing in the doorway she had just come through, hands on her hips.
Blinking away the last of the haze, Elwin followed her gaze to find the perpetrator. The boy was maybe four summers old, with a mop of dark hair on his head. His hands, one of which was shoved deeply into his mouth, were covered in cake frosting.
He looked... eerily like Clive when he had been the same age. Just his skin was a shade paler, and the eyes that peeked out from under the messy fringe were the wrong colour. A stormy grey, like...
Like the eyes of the woman who had admonished him, and who now was patiently cleaning his hands of frosting while shaking her head. Her long silver braid was falling over her shoulder as she inspected the damage on the cake as soon as she was done.
'It's fine, we'll get it fixed', a man said to her as he pulled freshly baked pastries from the oven. With a wink directed at the thwarted thief, he added: 'Perhaps we should put up guards, eh? To protect it from hungry bandits?'
'I'm a knight!', the boy announced proudly. 'Not a bandit.'
The woman chuckled and reached out a hand for the boy to take.
'Well then, Ser Elwin Rosfield - shall we find you something more knightly to do than stealing food? The banquet only happens at the end of a noble quest, is that not so?'
The boy cast one more longing look in the direction of the cake but then he took the woman's hand. Elwin trailed after them as they left the kitchen. Because...
Because that boy had his name, and Clive's face, and because that woman's northern features looked so very familiar. If he just imagined her with shorter hair...
There was something both warm and aching in his chest, something he could not yet bear to acknowledge. That familiarity. He knew them, even if he had never seen them before in his life.
Had he?
The boy was happily chattering on as they weaved through the crowd, and Elwin was too transfixed to even care to dodge the people walking through him. His sight blurred every time it happened, and it felt like walking through a dream.
Perhaps he was.
They walked down a flight of stairs towards one of the bigger platforms, the view over the lake partly obscured by vines flowing down from the structures above. More people stood here, small groups engrossed in cheerful conversation.
A boisterous laugh tore through the murmur of voices. A laugh Elwin knew all too well.
His brother looked... old, was his first thought. His second one was that he wished he could tell Byron so, could watch as the man gasped and clutched his breast in mock offence. Could listen to him launch into one of his tirades, and trade affectionate barbs after.
His younger brother, of course, did not notice him. He was speaking with another man, a man with dark hair, and when Elwin took a closer look he thought his heart might stop if it had been beating in the first place.
Clive was taller than his uncle, taller than Elwin even, broad and strong where he had been wiry as a youth. Life had left its marks on him, obvious ones like the scar slashing across his cheek and subtle ones like the creases around his eyes when he laughed. His voice was a little deeper, a little rougher, but his smile was the same.
How old might he be now? More than thirty summers - forty?
Elwin wanted to step closer, to study all the little differences and commit them to memory. To try and make them fit with the image of a fifteen-year-old boy in his mind. But he stood rooted to the spot, shackled by something like awe and something like dread.
How much had he missed?
He was torn from his stupor by the boy running straight through him and towards the two men. Clive crouched down to meet him, scooping the boy up and throwing him over his shoulder much to the boy's screeching delight. Then he greeted the woman - Jill, it truly was her - with a kiss to the cheek while the boy made disgusted faces behind his back.
'I found your son elbow-deep in his uncle's wedding cake', Jill announced.
A Rosarian wedding. So she could only talk about...
Joshua. Joshua was getting married.
Elwin's mind still held on to the image of a terrified little boy asking his brother not to leave them. His heart still ached with the echo of the question whether his sons had survived past childhood at all. But there, right in front of him...
Clive and Jill had a son, and Joshua was getting married.
Clive raised his eyebrows and glanced back at the boy hanging pliantly over his shoulder.
'Really? No, that can't be. My son would never do such a thing. It must have been yours.'
The boy's giggle dissolved into a surprised squeal when his father set him back down on his own feet.
'But we can't have you steal food, now can we? A lot of people worked very hard to make it so we can all enjoy it together.'
The boy squirmed around, biting his lip.
'M sorry', he mumbled. His face brightened when Clive gently mussed up his hair with a smile.
Elwin watched them banter with Byron and each other, talking about the preparations that were still to be done and about the boat full of wedding gifts Byron had apparently brought with him and that someone named Gav was busy unloading this very moment. The boy was jumping around Byron's feet until the man produced a small trinket for him that looked like a figurine of a dragon.
Elwin watched; silent, unnoticed.
He had missed so much, all because he had not seen it coming. He should have.
He should have been there for them.
The lantern closest to him, gently swaying in the breeze as it hung from a wooden beam above his head, flickered and flared. It felt like a gentle admonishment.
Elwin felt a smile tug at his lips.
'You are right', he said, though he was not sure who he was addressing. It was his son's wedding day. The fact that he was here to see it was miracle enough.
'- accompany me on a quest, Ser Elwin?'
Clive was offering his hand to the boy. The boy grabbed it, jumping up and down with a broad grin as he chanted 'Quest! Quest! Quest!'
'I haven't seen Joshua all day', Clive answered Jill's questioning look. 'I want to check on him.'
Yes, Elwin very much wanted to check on Joshua. Little Joshua, who was getting married today. He desperately wanted to know what had become of him, here in this place that was so very different from Rosalith castle with all the obligations it had placed on its young heir's shoulders.
Elwin had always had faith that his sons would grow into their duty and become great men. He had always had faith that they would lead Rosaria true, because the Duchy had always been the first thing on his mind. It had to be. But now... he felt peace when he thought of such earthly concerns. The dead, it seemed, were not bothered by politics. Or perhaps it was that voice that whispered to him from the flame, told him that Rosaria's fate need no longer be his concern. And oh the gladness he felt imagining that Joshua might find the same happiness Clive so obviously had, with a person of his own choosing. And it was a person of his choosing, of this Elwin was certain. He had attended political marriages, including his own, and this was not one of them.
The boy did not share his namesake's enthusiasm for Clive's idea, judging by the way his face fell. Clearly checking in on his uncle was not an appropriately heroic task in his book.
Clive leaned down to him conspiratorially.
'I fear he might have stumbled upon an evil witch's tome that enchanted him to forget all about his wedding', he said in a stage whisper. 'We might have to save him.'
The boy considered, then gave a gracious nod in approval. They took their leave, and by the time he and his father had reached the stairs, he was bouncing again.
They walked too slowly for Elwin's taste. In life, he had always walked with measured steps, aware of the eyes following him. It was freeing to know himself unobserved, to pass through a crowd easily at whatever pace he wanted. Lonely, but freeing. And so he rushed ahead, making the flames of the lanterns flicker wildly as he did. He had to stop and wait for Clive and the boy to catch up and show him the way more than once, but he found that he did not mind observing them for a bit. His son and his... grandson. The word made his heart swell.
But Joshua was still missing, and he wanted to see.
Finally, they reached a deserted corridor with a row of wooden doors leading into private rooms. Clive was leading them towards the end of the corridor at an unhurried pace, and Elwin allowed his impatience to get the better of him as he rushed past the doors ahead and poked his head through the wood to find the right one. He almost felt like back when he had been a boy, the unremarkable son of the Phoenix himself, going largely unnoticed as he explored all the hidden nooks and crannies and secret passageways of his home.
He had never realized how much he had missed those days.
Most of the rooms were unoccupied as their residents were busy mingling or preparing for the celebration. Then, Elwin came across what was apparently a guest room; it was largely bare, the only personal objects being the travel packs in the corner and a few books strewn about. One of the books rested in the hands of a man who seemed engrossed in its contents as he paced up and down, humming quietly to himself. His steps were rhythmic, up and down and pivoting in place to the tune of his own voice.
It was clearly a private moment, but Elwin could not bring himself to turn away.
Joshua was as tall as Clive, but where his older brother was sturdy and strong, he had clearly inherited his mother's grace. His face was still the same even though the childhood softness had melted away, blue eyes twinkling behind a fringe of strawberry blond hair that curled stubbornly at the tips.
Elwin still believed to feel those small fingers wrapped around his, too short to encircle his whole hand. To feel the worry when looking at the shy, sickly boy and knowing that the fate of a nation rested on his narrow shoulders.
The man in front of him seemed devoid of such burdens - or perhaps he had learned to carry them easily. He stepped and turned with wiry strength, energetic instead of fragile, yet still glued to the pages of his book with that same eagerness he had possessed as a child when there was something new to learn.
He dropped the book in shock when suddenly the door burst open and a small figure leapt into the room.
'Uncle Joshua! Did you forget your wedding!?'
With wide eyes, Joshua looked from the boy to Clive who had followed close behind.
'Why? Am I late? What time is it?'
Clive's lips twitched in amusement.
'Sorry about that. No, you still have time, though not much.' He looked around the room, noticing the book on the floor with a raised eyebrow. 'What were you doing? I thought we would meet up at the docks to greet Uncle Byron before you got ready for the ceremony.'
'Oh. Right.' Joshua scratched his head sheepishly. 'I... got carried away.'
Clive crouched down to gather the book from the floor; it was smaller than most tomes in the room, with elegant gold embossing on the cover.
'Sanbrequois ballroom dances?'
A hint of colour appeared on Joshua's cheeks. It made him look younger, and Elwin ached to pat his head like he used to do. He would have to reach up to do so now.
'I did not exactly have much opportunity to dance when I was with the Undying. I merely wanted to... refresh my memory.'
'Joshua, it's the Hideaway. No one will expect any ballroom dances. Apart from Uncle Byron and us, I doubt most people would even know what those look like.'
'At least one person does, and you have to agree that this would be the worst day of my life to look foolish in front of him.'
The father of his bride perhaps, or a brother? A family of noble standing then, or at least commoners wealthy enough to have partaken in that life from time to time. It was strange that their union would be celebrated here, in a place that seemed so far from any kind of high society. It only brought more questions to Elwin's mind - had his sons fled here after the disaster at Phoenix Gate, growing up among these people? Had they built this place themselves, or found peace here later in life?
Clive clapped his brother on the shoulder with a chuckle, book now discarded on the table.
'Relax. I have never seen you so nervous before.'
'I also have never gotten married before!'
'It's not even like it's going to change anything. We will have a party, and then the two of you will go back to happily living your life and having many beautiful babies.'
Joshua blinked owlishly at Clive, his manic energy grinding to a halt.
'Babies', he deadpanned.
'Of course. Every time Jill and I need a break. You volunteered after all.'
Joshua's laugh was bright and bubbling, and Elwin felt his lips stretch into a smile even though it seemed there was a part of the joke he was not privy to. He wished he knew more - he wished he could join them, joke with them, like he had sometimes done with Clive whenever he had found a private moment. He had never had the opportunity to form the same bond with Joshua, the boy carefully locked away and kept under his mother's watch. Seeing him now, seeing the man he had grown into and the easy banter he shared with Clive - it was not enough to make up for those missed opportunities, but it was something.
Joshua elbowed his brother in the ribs with a smirk.
'Just how many more are the two of you planning to have?'
Clive just shrugged.
'Someone needs to repopulate the deadlands now that they're becoming inhabitable again.'
In the corner of the room, the boy had been entertaining himself by rifling through the scattered books - perhaps examining them for evil enchantments. But now he perked up with interest.
'What's repopulate mean?'
Joshua walked over to him and crouched down so they were at eye level.
'You see, the deadlands you have travelled through before? They are getting all better now. But there are not enough people in the world to live there and take care of them, so your mother and your father need to make new ones.'
The boy's eyes grew big as his head swivelled around to focus on Clive.
'You make people?'
Clive narrowed his eyes at Joshua, but Joshua just ruffled the boy's hair with a grin.
'Babies, Elwin. You know that people can make babies, right?'
'Yes?'
'Babies are people, too.'
'Oooh.' The boy sat with that revelation for a while, staring down at the book in his hands with a thoughtful frown. 'How do you make people?', he demanded to know.
Clive gave a pained groan and Joshua's grin broadened.
'I am not sure, you will have to ask your father - I am certain he will gladly tell you all about it. You can ask him after the wedding, hm?'
The boy seemed content with that arrangement, readily taking up his patrol of the room again when Joshua gently nudged him to do so.
'Speaking of the wedding', Clive said insistently, 'please tell me you at least picked up your clothes from Hortense already?'
'...Ah.'
With a sigh, Clive took his sheepish brother by the shoulders and walked him out of the room, calling for the boy to follow them.
Elwin trailed behind them in quiet wonder. The deadlands were coming alive again, and his sons were happy, living their own lives. It seemed too grand a future to imagine.
Perhaps he was walking in a dream after all.
What would Joshua's bride look like? He did not expect to stumble upon her, but he could not help his curiosity as they walked the crowded halls. There were many women in lavish dresses milling about, though the number dwindled dramatically if he focussed on those whose clothing betrayed a noble or at least affluent background. Of those, even fewer were around Joshua's age. Other likely characteristics were harder to spot at a glance - surely she would be intelligent and witty to match her husband's mind, bold enough to match his thirst for adventure that had bloomed in secret when he had been a child, always hidden from his mother's watchful eyes.
Perhaps it was presumptuous for Elwin to assume he knew his adult son well enough to make such judgement, but the image felt right to his mind. Almost right, at least - there still seemed to be a piece missing.
Clive pulled Joshua along swiftly, waving off newcomers who swarmed the groom to offer greetings and well-wishes. Eventually Clive whispered something to his son, and the boy gleefully shot ahead to shout for people to clear a path.
Their pace was much quicker after that, but they still had barely crossed the first platform when a blur of long hair and manic energy crashed into Clive and pulled him aside. A lifetime as a soldier made Elwin reach for a sword that was not there - and even if it had been, what could a ghostly blade have done against a being of living flesh? - but the young woman simply dragged her target a few steps and gestured hastily for him to bend down to her eye-level so she could whisper in his ear. When Joshua tried to sneak closer to eavesdrop, she shooed him away.
While his son stood pouting, Elwin had more success listening in on the hushed conversation.
'Keep him busy for a bit, yeah? We might have a... slight problem.'
'Mid, don't tell me you set something on fire again.'
'What? No, of course not! No, we might have... misplaced his husband-to-be.'
Husband.
Clive straightened up to stare at her with an incredulous expression, but she grabbed him by the collar to pull him down again.
'Misplaced?', Clive hissed.
'I'm sure it's fine. But he's not in his room and no one has seen him, and - well, we're just having a bit of a search party, you know, to soothe everyone's mind? Anyway, if you could keep your brother out of the way, that would be fantastic.'
Husband.
Elwin mentally berated himself for not considering the possibility. Of course, Joshua had been too young to show any preference one way or the other. And had his life gone the way Elwin had envisioned it, it would not have mattered either way - he would have been forced to take a wife and continue the Rosfield line.
How much would he have loathed the path his father would have set him on?
It did not matter. Not anymore.
'Right. Sure.' Clive glanced over his shoulder to where Joshua had demonstratively turned his back and listened to some rambling story his nephew was telling him. 'As long as everyone is accounted for when the ceremony starts.'
The young woman nodded furiously, making her long braid bounce behind her.
'Not a problem. Thanks, Clive.'
And then she was gone, swallowed by the crowd. As Clive turned around with a sigh to rejoin his brother, Elwin looked from him to the corridor the woman had rushed off towards. It was branching off in different directions, stairs leading up and down and doors hiding yet more rooms behind them. All of it filled with people, chattering and milling about.
It would take a long time to find a single person in this chaos.
Clive had hooked an arm around Joshua's neck and the two of them were laughing about something, and Elwin wanted nothing more than to keep watching them. To drink in the sight of his children healthy and hale, grown into two wonderful men.
Something plucked at his mind and pulled him in the opposite direction.
He watched his sons vanish behind a corner, and his heart ached from their absence. But he turned around and strode straight towards where the woman had disappeared, not caring about the people blocking his path.
********
As it turned out, searching a place he had no knowledge about for a person he did not know the face of was much harder than he had anticipated in his initial eagerness. Since the woman - Mid - was nowhere to be found, Elwin instead took to methodically scouting the many levels of the structure one by one, the same way he would have ordered his Shields to do to secure an unknown stronghold. The winding corridors and tiny rooms that branched off from them like pieces of a grown, living being would have cost him hours under normal circumstances. But now he could simply walk a straight line through the thin wooden walls, turn once he reached the outer shell of the ruin and head back on a parallel course.
He wandered the halls and listened to the voices that flowed around him like waves of an ocean. It was a novel experience - when he had been alive, people had always been wary of what to say in his presence. Others had collected the gossip and idle chatter from the streets of the realm and carried it to his ears, carefully sorted and selected to only bother him with the important pieces. Now, it was up to him to find what might be useful to him. He wandered and let the voices flow over his head.
' - saved the world, the least we can do is make sure this day is absolutely perfect. And that means. No. Carrots. In. The. Stew -'
...
'And the garments turned out absolutely stunning! Some of my best work, I might say. It was quite a challenge to create outfits in Rosarian and Sanbrequois colours that fit together, but it worked out beautifully. That Dhalmekian silk…’
...
Working on a new book?'
'I'm just taking some notes for inspiration. I have never seen a wedding like this!'
'Oh! Does that mean there will be a wedding in the next part?'
'Ah... please... the next part is not even planned, let alone -'
'Oh I must tell the others about this! We meet up every now and then to discuss your books, you see.'
'Really? That is... I am happy you like them so much, I don't know what to say.’
‘Will it be in a castle? A grand ball - I admit, I imagined something more… more grand for a noble wedding. But, ah, you’re not writing about them, of course. Still… you must tell me all the details!’
‘There is no book yet, I'm afraid there is nothing I can tell you...'
...
'Those lanterns there. You wager anyone will collect them all after the wedding? Because I'm sure people will pay a pretty penny for a fancy memento.'
'Nan...'
'What? It's not like they'll do anyone else any good!'
...
'...bloody heroes! It's an honour, I tell you, an honour to fight at their side. Once the prince put me on my ass in the training arena in two seconds flat. Was the most amazing battle I had in my life, I would be pissed if he couldn't hold his drink, too!'
'You like everyone who drinks with you.'
'Not some Imperial fancy pants! But he bled with us. He's one of us!'
'How many did you have already?'
'Question is, why haven't you even started yet? It's a bloody wedding, have some fun for once!'
...
'You never take time off! Don't get me wrong, you really should, but why the change of heart?'
'Because that week is when those two will return from their honeymoon. And knowing them, they will probably have found a way to get banged up. I'm not putting up with this again.'
'They can't be worse than Cid, surely.'
'He has a wife who will help me berate him when he walks around held together by bandages alone. They will climb in bed together and make every effort to rip open their stitches. In my infirmary.'
...
'I thought you'd be more concerned about this. You and your charges suffered under the Black Shields for years! We all did. And now Lord Rosfield is marrying a Sanbrequois noble of all people...'
'Nonsense. Anyone with eyes in their head can see that the only reason those two are marrying is because they are besotted. Nothing political about it. Besides, they both saved us from worse things than the Black Shields. You shouldn't throw around speculations like that, people here won't take kindly to it...'
...
'They didn't even post anyone in the kitchen to check for poison! It's like they want someone to get murdered. What is Cyril thinking...'
'Oooh, you have to try these! I think they're from the North - maybe I should ask Lady Warrick about them. I bet I could make them for the restaurant -'
'... as soon as I leave for a few years… It’s not like just because they aren’t Dominants anymore, no one would have reason to kill them!'
'Hey, you know if you're really that worried about poison -'
'Don't say it.'
' - we should just try everything. They have these things that look like little cakes but they're spicy...'
'... Fine.'
'Really? All of it?'
'Hrmph. Better start a fresh notebook while you're at it.'
'Even the apple brandy?'
'Don't remind me.'
...
'Who needs so many wedding gifts? I thought I'd be busy unloading all that crap until the party is over. Nobles... he brought them a bed. A bed! They don't even live here! Ah well, they burned one down already so maybe they'll need a spare...'
...
'It's simple physics. And his gracefulness Lord Rosfield - with all due respect - is a twig of a man.'
'What are you two talking about?'
'Tonight, after the celebration. Who do you think will carry the other across the threshold?'
'Uh... do they even do that in Sanbreque?'
'Exactly! It's a Rosarian tradition, so Lord Rosfield is the one who's gonna do it! That armour I could understand, not wanting to lift all that. But who wears armour on their wedding day?'
'Fine, a wager then. I say there's no chance he will pick up that hunk of muscle.'
'Fine!'
...
'...needed to replace another strap on his armour. Fucking hell, how is it he keeps that metal shining like a bloody mirror but every few days the straps get singed...'
'Well, if I had to guess...'
'I know how!'
...
'Hope you all got enough sleep ahead of time! I say they'll probably keep us up for at least two nights, if not more.'
'Huh?'
'Seriously. Once I woke up at the ass crack of dawn and there was this noise that I thought one of the supports had come loose and was banging against the railing. Well I get up to take a look and the supports were fine, but let me tell you, it definitely was a railing I walked in on -'
...
'Why can't we go in?'
Elwin turned abruptly to follow the child's voice somewhere at the edge of the crowd - mostly because he was glad to have found a conversation that would be unlikely to reveal any more details about his son's private life to him. Gossip like this was a favourite pastime of any wedding guest, noble or commoner, but the nobles usually were at least more covert about it.
He had come to terms with many revelations in a very short time, but some things, he simply was not ready for.
The small gaggle of children stood in front of a door at the far end of the hall, atop a short flight of stairs. The door was firmly shut, and an old man in blue robes blocked their way.
'This is no day to sit inside and study', he said gently. 'This is a day of joy and merrymaking! Go on.'
The children did not move.
'But we wanted to look something up -'
'Yes, Crow said the dragoon people never take off their armour ever, because it grows on them! Like crabs!'
'The prince is nice, he's no crab!'
'That's 'cause he's special. All the others are crabs. It's true, she says she read it in a book!'
The old man chuckled.
'I applaud an inquisitive mind, but your research will have to wait. Even I need to breathe some fresh air every now and then, and so the Shelves are closed for the day.'
The children retreated with matching pouts on their faces, but soon they were gleefully mingling with the crowd and most likely plotting some mischief that was at least as entertaining as rumours about crab people.
The old man was lingering next to the door, looking at the worn wood with a pensive fondness. He did not seem to have any inclination of walking away towards the fresh air he had spoken about, and instead kept watch like a bowed sentinel.
Something was drawing Elwin towards that door. It plucked at him, unsteady like a flickering flame. The voice in his head, the voice he could not truly hear. It called him forward.
He walked slowly; up the steps, past the old man. Then through the door.
The room beyond was big and dimly lit by the sunlight seeping in from outside. The air seemed as quiet as the tomes resting on their shelves and reading desks, where they dreamed peacefully of the next pair of hands that would wake them from their slumber. Tiny motes of dust swirled in the air, undisturbed by Elwin walking by.
In the corner of the room, hidden by a heavy wooden shelf, a flame was flickering in the twilight.
Pluck, pluck, pluck. It urged Elwin forward.
There, on the rough planks that formed the floor, sat a man. He wore Sanbrequois white and teal, a purple wyverntail pinned to his breast. Legs crossed, he sat like a child as he watched the candle flicker in front of him. The shadows danced on his face, the golden light reflecting in his warm brown eyes and the red stones of his earrings.
Ah.
Elwin remembered the young boy, shoulders stiff under the burden placed on them. Too formal even for a noble child as he anxiously watched his father's every look and gesture, and deftly moved to comply with the silent commands. A glance of his bright smile when he and Joshua had returned from whatever hidden corner they had disappeared to. Joshua had spoken of no one else for weeks and months to come.
Everything fit together.
Dion did not move when Elwin sat down in front of him, on the other side of the candle. Strange, how solid the floor felt under him when everything else yielded easily to his touch. They sat and watched the flame, but now, Elwin felt no urgency. He was where he was supposed to be.
After long minutes had passed, Dion breathed a sigh.
'I do not know what to say', he whispered. 'I have been sitting here for so long... and the words seem to elude me.'
He shook his head with a dry chuckle that made the flame twitch and tremble.
'I am not even sure I am doing this right. Joshua says that the fire will carry any words to the spirits they are intended for, but... if it does, I cannot tell.'
He took a deep breath.
'I know in Rosaria, there is not as much significance in asking a parent for their approval. But in Sanbreque, only the power of Greagor herself would stand above the power of a parent to bless a union. Without that blessing, only misfortune may follow. I cannot say whether I still believe in benevolent gods after all we have seen, but I cannot help but wonder...'
He laced his fingers together then wrung them in his lap, wet his lips with his tongue.
'I do not have a father to ask this, of this I made sure with my own hand. And even if he could give his blessing, I doubt he would. And so I cannot help but wonder if it would be the same for you.'
There was pain in his voice; a quiet kind, like from a wound that was old but still ached far too quickly when touched even in passing.
'I never had the privilege to truly know you. I like to think that you were a great man. It feels presumptuous to now ask you for the greatest gift you could possibly give - for that is what Joshua has been to me, every day. I thought all I could hope for was death, and then he showed me how to live again. How to feel worthy of happiness. And I am... happy. So how does it still feel as if I am asking too much?'
He was still now, staring into the flame. His hands lay openly in his lap, like for meditation, or a prayer.
'But I am asking', he said hoarsely. 'Am I allowed this happiness? Could I ever be worthy of it?'
He sat and he waited, shoulders slowly hunching with every passing moment. Finally he nodded quietly to himself, and moved to extinguish the candle.
The flame flickered and brightened. Elwin had barely extended his hand towards it, but suddenly the golden glow filled the room, much more intense than even the lanterns he had touched outside. Dion froze and snatched his hand back before it could be singed by the surging fire. His eyes were wide as he breathlessly stared at the brightly burning candle.
Slowly, he reached out once more. The movement was hesitant, every moment in anticipation of heat, of pain. But the fire was gentle despite its brightness, licking harmlessly over his skin. His hand stilled within the flame, a mere inch from Elwin's.
Elwin did not know Dion Lesage. He remembered the earnest, kind young boy; he remembered thinking that Sylvestre didn't even know what gift he was squandering in treating that boy like a mere tool. But he did not know the man that now sat before him and asked to have his character judged.
He did know the light in Joshua's eyes when he had spoken of his new friend. He knew how the people outside had spoken of him - nice, hero, one of our's. He knew how difficult it was for anyone in a position of power to earn such high praise from the common folk. He knew that these people had encased their joy and their wishes in little tokens, too many to count, that now hung from every branch and every wooden beam of their home. They had filled it with their love, plain for all to see.
And above all, he knew that Joshua had chosen this man. It was all he needed to know, really.
He reached out, and took Dion's hand in his. It felt immaterial, ghostly as his own, but the flame followed his fingers and flowed around Dion's.
Brown eyes widened.
'I entrust my son to you, Dion Lesage', Elwin said gently. 'May your days be plentiful, and may they be blessed.'
The words were lost somewhere between the worlds, but he hoped that at least an echo of it would reach the other side.
From the way tears were gathering in Dion's eyes, he thought it might have.
********
Dion walked through the door of the shelves little later. His steps were slow, but his shoulders had straightened as if a weight had been taken off them. Elwin was following close behind.
The old man was still waiting outside, and he greeted them with a warm smile.
'Dion', he said. 'Have you found what you were looking for?'
Dion cleared his throat and smoothed out the fine fabric of his garments.
'Yes', he said hoarsely. 'I believe I have. My thanks for giving me the opportunity.'
'Of course.' The old man's smile broadened. 'And now I believe you should find Miss Midadol. She was in quite a state, searching the entire Hideaway for you.'
Dion straightened abruptly.
'How late is it?', he asked frantically. 'How much time do I have?'
'Plenty of time to make it to the ceremony. But you should perhaps assuage her worry that you have fallen into the lake on your wedding day.'
'Yes. Of course. I shall go at once.'
He turned to leave, but before he set foot on the first step down towards the hall, he paused.
'Master Harpocrates', he said stiffly. The old man raised his eyebrows in question.
'I have... a favour to ask', Dion continued. The levity in his demeanour that his talk with Elwin had brought about had disappeared entirely, and he spoke haltingly. 'It is custom that a parent is part of the handfasting. Clive will stand in for his father...'
He turned around to look at the door behind him, as if seeking reassurance from the invisible presence he knew was somewhere around him. Elwin ran a finger over the casing of a lantern that hung from a nearby support beam, making the flame flicker merrily behind red tinted glass. He was more than fine with that arrangement.
The tension in Dion's shoulders melted away by a fraction.
'I would ask if you were willing to participate on my behalf', he finished.
Only quiet answered him for a long few heartbeats as the old man stood, at a loss for words. He blinked rapidly, eyes shining brightly amidst the laugh creases that furrowed his face.
'May I... ask what brought this sudden request about?', he asked thickly. His voice was still unfailingly kind, treating the question it responded to as the fragile, precious thing that it was.
'I have no father worthy of the name', Dion answered. 'It took me a long time to accept that. But only recently -' his gaze sought the lantern and Elwin let it flicker again for good measure '- only recently I have come to believe that perhaps I might be worthy of one. Please. There is none other I would rather entrust this duty to.'
The tears were gathering in the old man's eyes, one of them painting a shimmering streak on his skin as it fell. He grasped Dion's shoulder, his other hand carefully righting the wyverntail pinned to his clothes.
'It would be the greatest honour', he whispered.
Elwin turned away and walked through the crowd towards the platforms that hung high above the lake, leaving Dion and the old man behind. He felt... lighter than before, if that was even possible without a body. He felt at peace.
But not yet. Not quite.
First, he had a wedding to attend.
********
It was a beautiful ceremony. When Elwin entered the hall it was held in, he found that a seat had been spared for him. It bore nothing but his old helmet and a single lantern with elaborately painted glass, but it was more than he had expected. The lantern flared and flickered when he stood next to it, and he saw Clive and Joshua exchange quiet gazes up on the dais. Dion smiled to himself, and Elwin knew who had arranged this tribute at the last possible moment.
Clive and Harpocrates stepped up to fasten the newlywed's hands, and the hall erupted in cheers when they kissed.
At the banquet that followed, Elwin found yet another place at the table had been set for him. He could not sit on the chair but he stood close to the lantern that burned in front of it, making sure to let it flicker whenever Dion, Clive or Joshua looked its way. He watched the feasting and later the dancing, watched Clive's and Jill's son - Elwin - jump around with the other children and sneak food from the tables. He watched the laughter and the joy, the blinding smiles on Joshua's and Dion's faces as they twirled on the dance floor, foreheads touching as they were caught up in a world of their own.
When they finally left their guests to their own devices and retreated towards their chambers, Joshua did hoist a confused Dion into his arms and carried him across the hall's threshold. Only a few stumbling steps, then they both collapsed in a breathless heap of laughter on the floor. Dion was the first to recover, and he threw his husband over his shoulder before marching off with him under the cheering and whistling of the crowd. Clive watched with a grin on his face, Jill leaning against his shoulder and their son sprawled across both their laps in sleep.
Elwin leisurely strolled towards the hallway the newlyweds had disappeared in. Somehow he knew that he would find them there on the next platform, leaned against the railing with their arms slung around each other. Night had fallen, and the lights and lanterns all around them seemed to float in the darkness like a swarm of fireflies.
'Thank you', Joshua said. 'For thinking of my father. It is not what we usually do in Rosaria, but... it felt right.'
Dion hummed quietly.
'I am glad.'
'Did you notice...' Joshua interrupted himself before trying again. 'The flames were quite peculiar this evening, were they not?'
'Do you think so? They seemed like normal flames to me.'
Joshua looked across the lake with a pensive frown.
'I wonder...' He shook his head. 'Ah, no matter. It is beautiful. All of it - it was a beautiful day.'
'All we ever wished for', Dion agreed.
'And more.'
They stood for a while longer, whispering to each other until finally one or the other pulled them in the direction of their quarters. Elwin wandered closer to the railing with its curtains of vines and the swaying lanterns. The flames shone brighter when he approached them, welcoming him.
'Thank you', he said, even though he still was not sure who he was speaking to. 'I believe that is all I needed to see.'
The flames flickered and brightened until they swallowed his figure, then they dimmed until nothing was left but tiny sparks of light that rose into the endless night sky, awaiting a new dawn.