Fire Emblem Fan Fiction ❯ Fire Emblem-Path of Radiance: Love Sonata ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Various Laguz: *Wearing cloaks and cowls that cover the eyes and most of the face, chanting* Pie Iesu domine, dona eis requiem. *Bonk themselves on the head with a board reading `Falchion1984 does not own Fire Emblem, Monty Python and the Holy Grail nor Tomas Waller's Jazz music'* Pie Iesu domine,... *Bonk themselves on the head with a board reading `Falchion1984 does not own Fire Emblem, Monty Python and the Holy Grail nor Tomas Waller's Jazz music'* ...dona eis requiem. *Bonk themselves on the head with a board reading `Falchion1984 does not own Fire Emblem, Monty Python and the Holy Grail nor Tomas Waller's Jazz music'*

 

Falchion1984: *Clearly frustrated* Well, at least they're doing something useful now. Well, read and enjoy.

 

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(Elincia)

 

“That…,” Elincia gasped breathlessly. “That was…that was rather fun, actually.”

 

Elincia had to admit, the Demosthene was far more intense than any dance she'd attempted. The exertion of following some of Ike's moves had left her flushed, gasping and a touch dizzy. Her legs and feet did not appreciate the abuse she'd subjected them to and she had a feeling that her seamstress would find some damage to her gown the following day. Her attire had been woefully mismatched to the dance, whenever she tried to part her knees she found that her gown constrained her legs and the glorified torture device known as the corset was not made to accommodate the sinuous motions of the back and torso that the Demosthene called for.

 

Still, it felt good.

 

In fact, she was rather eager for the occasion to dance like this again.

 

Right now, however, she focused on catching her breath as she leaned against Ike.

 

“Yeah,” Ike agreed, shaking her back to attention. “It is tough to learn though.”

 

Elincia had to agree. During the dance, for a while, her efforts at following Ike's moves left her feeling intolerably foolish. She tried to picture what Ike's lessons had looked like, wondering if he'd had any awkward moments or embarrassments during his tutelage. The image of Ike losing his balance during one of those spins, as more than a few of the Beroc dancers had, or of him having a bad landing from one of those jumps, another common occurrence that evening, caused a snicker to escape her lips.

 

“What's so funny?” Ike asked.

 

Elincia was somewhat surprised when the flush of embarrassment she'd expected that question to draw forth didn't materialize. In fact, it felt good to be talking about something that wasn't related to the War or politics or the Reconstruction. Giggling slightly, she cocked her head in the direction of the other Beorc dancers. More than a few of whom were picking themselves up off the ground and most were too dizzy to walk unassisted.

 

“I was wondering,” she began, still sounding somewhat breathless, “if you had the same…difficulties we did when you learned that dance.”

 

The corners of Ike's mouth drew upward and he regarded her with a twinkle of gentle amusement in his eye.

 

“Well,” he began, the mischief in his tone matching hers, “I did take the precaution of dressing for the occasion.”

 

This time, the embarrassed flush did materialize. Elincia looked down at her gown which, while not outwardly damaged, was shockingly wrinkled and wrapped crookedly about her lithe form from her awkward twisting. The gown was still pulled tight about her torso so that, to her surprise and embarrassment, her bosom was more defined than Court Etiquette would've permitted. Her hair had also become disheveled and beads of perspiration trickled down her brow.

 

Ike, though lightly flushed and gasping slightly, looked quite at ease and even a touch smug.

 

“Touché,” Elincia conceded with another laugh.

 

She felt him release her hand and she became aware that his arm was now around her shoulder, holding her gently. Suppressing a contented murmur, she rested her head against his shoulder and allowed her eyelids to slowly descend.

 

`When did he get so tall?' she wondered idly.

 

Ike's stature, both in reputation and in body, had grown much since they'd first met. Back then, Elincia remembered that, by standing on her toes, she could make herself a respectable fraction of an inch taller than him. Now, he was tall enough that her head could be securely tucked under his chin which he demonstrated as he cradled her form against his own.

 

Reveling in his warmth, enjoying the feel of his strong form against hers, she discovered a feeling of repose for which she could find no parallel in her memory. She found herself wondering if this night was some sort of a dream.

 

If it was, it was one she'd enjoy. And, some well hidden vein of desire urged her to, be this dream or reality, make sure that it didn't end.

 

It almost made her change her mind about finding out why he had stayed in Melior, as warmth, dependence, admiration and affection mingled with an urge not to ruin what might be her last fond memory with him. But, she put the notion out of her mind.

 

Even if Ike was ultimately going to leave, and she wouldn't stop him if he did, she'd always have this moment to hold on to.

 

“Hey, Ike!” a familiar voice rang out, snapping her to wakefulness.

 

Her eyes shooting open, she turned in the direction of the noise and revealed was Ranulf bounding over to them. The Cat Laguz more-or-less skidded to a halt and made a grossly exaggerated bow, which likely served no purpose beyond irritating Ike. Once again, Elincia found herself surprised and yet appreciative of Ranulf's easy nature and good humor. As always, he looked chipper, mischievous and eager for a laugh.

 

Given how the first experiment with exporting Laguz dance had gone, laughs would not be in short supply this evening.

 

“Hey Ranulf,” Ike greeted. “How'd the game go?”

 

“The Doraven game?” Ranulf asked, his tone changing to one of comically exaggerated dread. “Soren won. Can you believe it? It scared the living daylights out of me; he must've had inside help. It could be a conspiracy to discredit me before my fellow Laguz. I've been thinking this over and I already have a list eighty three suspects.”

 

Ike greeted this melodrama with a chuckle while Elincia rolled her eyes. That was Ranulf for you, always cracking jokes and making jibes. Whether it was sneaking about Port Toha in disguise or racing across enemy territory to rendezvous with the Army at Riven Bridge or storming Fort Pinell and Nados Castle, Ranulf regarded each and all as if they were no more dangerous that a morning jaunt and far less hazardous than playing a strategy game with Soren.

 

“Oh, Soren's not so bad,” Ike began, still laughing slightly. “He…”

 

The rest of his reply was lost when Ranulf interrupted him.

 

“He just seems like it?” Ranulf cut in.

 

“I heard that!” Soren shouted from a distance.

 

As Ranulf whirled to retort, Elincia could hear Ike growl under his breath in irritation. Not that he could be blamed, Soren's sardonic nature and Ranulf's legendary sarcasm could try anyone's patience. Ranulf's easy demeanor and his penchant for jibes and barbs, which he handily demonstrated as he continued to trade verbal blows with Soren, often made him appear desirous or overconfident. At the opposite end of the spectrum was Soren, ever cynical and pragmatic to the point where one might think it cruelty. Still, Soren was a valuable ally and, despite their occasional clashes, Ike regarded him as his closest friend.

 

Elincia had been perplexed by that, since Ike's sense of justice and sentimentality seemed the utter opposite to everything Soren said and did. Perhaps, Elincia realized, this was because Soren had made himself into something of a mentor for Ike, coaching him in tactics and management of the Company's manpower and resources as well as acting as an occasional check on Ike's impetuousness.

 

It was often said that the best mentors see the faults of their student's more clearly than the student would like, and Soren had done that often and sharply. And, with everybody.

 

Still, both had their hearts in the right place, even if their increasingly rancorous argument could cause one to suspect otherwise. After shouting something to the effect of `I'll get you next time' to Soren, Ranulf turned back to face the pair.

 

“You two looked pretty good out there,” Ranulf commented, his mismatched eyes glinting with humor. “I trust you enjoyed your date?”

 

Elincia's blood, still pumping fast and hard from the dance, seemed to suddenly migrate to her face. She brought up one hand, pretending to be coughing, in order to conceal her blush. Ike, by contrast, replied to this barb with only a soft chuckle and a smile.

 

“Yeah,” Ike replied, seeming strangely unbothered by Ranulf's barb. “I guess those lessons paid off after all.”

 

“Ranulf was your teacher?” Elincia inquired, eager to change the subject.

 

She tried to paint a mental picture of what that looked like, of Ranulf coaching Ike through bounding side to side and contorting like a snake under the charmer's flute, and the image caused her cheeks to bulge with restrained laughter.

 

By the time she managed to swallow her giggles, the image of Ike's assured mishaps (quite possibly testing even Ranulf's easy demeanor) was permanently seared into her imagination.

 

“Yeah,” Ike replied, with a careless shrug. “I didn't have much choice really.”

 

“Oh!” Ranulf burst out in mock indignation, “the ingrate! I clear my schedule left and right for these lessons and that's all I get?! No good deed ever goes unpunished!”

 

This time, Elincia couldn't hold it. Laughter, loud and genuine, erupted from her lips with such force that it left her feeling light headed and caused the flush in her cheeks to reassert itself.

 

“Seriously though,” Ike continued, still chuckling. “I couldn't ask Leanne, she was off at Serenes with Reyson. And Naesala, interestingly enough. I tried to ask Lethe, but she…”

 

Again, Ranulf cut him off. The customary mischief in his gaze now elevating towards wickedness.

 

“Would that have anything to do with why Lethe had blood on her claws last week?” Ranulf asked, chuckles punctuating his words.

 

Ike, embarrassed red painting his countenance, rubbed at a number of scars on his cheek that Elincia hadn't noticed before. There were four parallel cuts traversing the distance from just above his lip to mere centimeters from his left eye. They looked recent. And deep. And rather painful.

 

“Yeah,” Ike admitted, sounding unnaturally sheepish. “She was…most emphatic in her refusal.”

 

Ranulf, his chuckling now elevating to raucous guffaws, patted Ike on the shoulder.

 

“Didn't she do the same thing when you mentioned that you saw her and Jill shaking hands?” Ranulf asked, this time his guffawing nearly sending him over backwards.

 

“I was,” Ike began, his tone betraying what sounded like the barest hint of irritation, “trying to say how impressed I was that she'd become friends with Jill. She…didn't appreciate it.”

 

Try as she might, Elincia couldn't suppress an illicit giggle at the blush that had been creeping across Ike's face as he explained this. Though she admired Ike's altruism, loyalty and his desire to understand both the Laguz and his fellow Beorc without reservation, it was astonishing how these well intended efforts backfired embarrassingly on him.

 

During some of their talks in the War, when a respite from both the terrible combat and the work of keeping an Army running smoothly materialized, Ike had told her several amusing stories about his talks with the Laguz of the Army.

 

Elincia remembered, in particular, Ike seeming quite perplexed at the realization that Hawk Laguz didn't hatch from eggs.

 

That musing brought another pang of regret, as she recalled that Ike would surely leave sooner or later and such simple pleasures would become a thing of the past. Shaking off those musings, and eager to change the subject, she interjected.

 

“One other thing Ranulf,” she cut in. “Please pass my compliments to King Caineghis for arranging for the Laguz musicians to play here tonight. And, my thanks for your having shared the Demosthene with us.”

 

For a long moment, Ranulf didn't speak. He simply raised an eyebrow, obviously intrigued by her words.

 

“You really enjoyed it, didn't you?” Ranulf asked, a wide grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Oh, yes,” Elincia replied, feelingly. “It is different than the dances I've done in the past, but it's…what's the word I'm searching for? Freer, I suppose. And, lively and exhilarating. And, it fits the occasion quite well. A Dance of Rebirth is perfect for celebrating the new life of this realm as well as its freedom.”

 

Ranulf seemed, almost, impressed. He feigned the act of wiping away an imaginary, sentimental tear which prompted Ike to roll his eyes. But, Elincia was perplexed when he shook his head and that familiar chuckle of his was heard once again.

 

“That's all very pretty,” Ranulf replied, his grin widening. “But, the Demosthene isn't about Rebirth. Not in that way, at least.”

 

She felt her elation sinking, becoming puzzlement tinged with apprehension. Ike too looked surprised by this, his head cocked inquisitively to one side and his eyes narrowed questioningly. Ranulf, still smirking, leaned towards them, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye.

 

“You see,” Ranulf continued, seemingly forcing himself to keep his words from turning into laughter yet again, “amongst the Laguz, the Demosthene is a mating dance.”

 

Years of training in Court Etiquette prevented Elincia's jaw from plummeting earthwards. Barely. Still, the blood migrating to her face from Ranulf's earlier barbs seemed to gain in speed until her whole face felt painfully hot. Ike's mouth was parted, his jaw edging downward in a look of shock that seemed alien on his normally stoic features. When he spoke, he sounded even more embarrassed than Elincia felt.

 

In fact, he sounded genuinely aggravated.

 

“Couldn't you have mentioned this before we did it back in Gallia?” Ike demanded, a strange edge in his voice.

 

Elincia wasn't sure what astonished her more, Ranulf's unexpected declaration or Ike's reaction. Granted, Elincia's whole being blazed with mortification at this realization, but Ike's reaction had startled her. His face had darkened, his eyes narrowed, his voice was deeper with a harsh edge and his jaw was clenched.

 

It looked familiar, too familiar, and not in a good way.

 

Ike had worn a similar expression when he learned that he had to become a Lord to command the Crimean Liberation Army.

 

The expression was not directed at her, and yet Elincia felt every bit as chilled now as she had then. Ike, more often than not, wore a stoic exterior, his face a mask of calm belied by grim contemplation. The rare occasions when he became truly angry, genuinely enraged, it seemed alien and yet, strangely, seemed to belong there as well.

 

Ike was a man of strong sentiments and emotions, another aspect of him that cut both ways at once, which gave him a great capacity for both compassion and for rage. Ike's reaction to being ordered to receive the title of Lord, the sole occasion that Elincia had clearly seen him angry, had scared her. If Ranulf was struck with any similar distress, however, it was invisible. In fact, his amusement seemed to grow.

 

“And miss the look on your face?” Ranulf replied. “Not a chance. Besides, I know I'm irresistible.”

 

As quickly as that grim anger had appeared on Ike's face, it dissolved at Ranulf's unexpected barb. He recoiled, bewilderment overtaking his features, and he spent several seconds uttering what sounded like long strings of consonants. At any other time, Elincia would've found the contrast between Ike's usual stoicism and his sudden incoherence to be amusing. But, she couldn't bring herself to laugh.

 

Seeing that familiar mask of anger overtake Ike's face, even briefly, had dredged up some bad memories.

 

Before he could recover his customary calm, Ranulf inexplicably brought up one hand to ruffle Ike's hair.

 

“Don't worry,” he quipped. “You're a handsome boy and a sweet fellow but you're not my type. Now, if you'll excuse me, I should check on our…casualties from the dance. See ya!”

 

Without giving Ike a chance at the last word, not that Ike had recovered his coherence enough to take it, Ranulf strode back towards the Festival, bounding forth and side to side in a facsimile of the Demonsthene until he was out of sight. When Ike finally found his voice, it came out a bit shaky and he sounded somewhat sheepish.

 

“There's, uh,” he stuttered, “no need to, ah, mention this to, um, Mist or, ah, anyone else. Is…there?”

 

Looking at Ike's face, his features colored with embarrassment, Elincia found a strange, accidental echo of memory. Ike had, for a moment, worn a similar expression when he'd agreed to be dubbed a Lord, just after he'd retracted his refusal. However, he was far from incoherent then, his voice coming out flat, firm and with grim resignation and the barest hint of smothered anger. Before Elincia could discern what this meant, another familiar voice rang out.

 

“Too late,” the voice snickered.

 

The pair turned to see Mist bounding up to them. The girl, young woman Elincia corrected herself, was flushed and a sheen of perspiration glistened on her exposed skin but she otherwise seemed as energetic as ever. Mist flashed a wicked grin and Elincia could clearly hear Ike's aggravated growl at the words that were certain to come.

 

“Shinon has been giving you a hard time about being a Laguz-lover,” Mist pointed out, unable to keep a straight face. “Wonder what he'd make of this.”

 

That familiar darkening of Ike's eyes became visible again and, fearful of what Mist might be provoking, Elincia desperately interjected.

 

“Depends,” she began, “what would Shinon say about you doing a mating dance with his pupil?”

 

Mist's wicked grin abruptly turned upside down and her stuttering reply sounded much like the incoherent strings of nonsensical syllables that Ike had uttered earlier.

 

Perhaps this ran in the family.

 

“That's a good point,” Ike seconded, his anger suddenly fading. “I mean, Rolf is a good man but I hadn't counted on him becoming a brother-in-law.”

 

Mist screeched and lunged at Ike, only to be cut off when Ike's hands shot out and took her by the waist. Ike, chuckling, cast Mist airwards and caught her again while Mist screamed out some exaggerated claim about getting airsick.

 

Elincia watched the two siblings' game and found herself remembering a childhood game she'd played back at the Royal Villa with Geoffrey and Lucia. A nine year old Geoffrey, who'd foreseen his becoming a Crimean Knight, had taken to wrestling with any boy he could find to strengthen his arms and his grip. The one time he'd tried to do the same with Lucia had garnered the three of them a healthy respect for Lucia's agility. Geoffrey had pursued her for at least twenty minutes and left with nothing to show for it, save a reprimand for knocking over and breaking several pieces of crockery during the chase.

 

That musing also brought her attention to Mist herself, who was being hurtled a seeming three meters into the air. Mist and Elincia had readily connected during the War, practically from the moment they'd met, and Elincia regarded her with the same affection she had for Lucia. Like her brother, Mist had seemed to have had a growth spurt since the Liberation of Melior, though it was difficult to be sure since Ike's torso was now blocking her view as a now landed Mist held him in a choke hold.

 

One thing that struck Elincia about Mist, besides the wonderment of how she'd turned the tables on her elder sibling, was her unquenchable spirit. Elincia still remembered, bitterly, the shock and the horror and the sadness that had engulfed Mist's face when she learned the truth of how her mother had died and the terrible secret her father had long borne in grim solitude and unceasing vigilance. For Mist, normally rich spirited and oft cheerful, sadness seemed alien on her features. In contrast, when Mist returned Lehran's Medallion to Reyson and Leanne she seemed at peace, as if a weight upon her heart had inexplicably vanished.

 

However, Mist didn't look particularly peaceful as she continued to strangle Ike and demand that he say `Uncle.'

 

“What a terrible adversary!” the voice of Ranulf rang out again.

 

The Cat Laguz in question had sauntered back to the little group while the siblings' rough housing had monopolized their attention, and he doubtless found great amusement at the image of the deadliest warrior in all of Tellius being at the mercy of his little sister. Ike regarded Ranulf with what might've been an attempt at comically exaggerated desperation.

 

“Hey, help me out here!” he implored.

 

Ranulf brought up one hand and cupped his chin in a farce of contemplation.

 

“Oh, I don't know,” he replied. “It might be dangerous.”

 

Ike was not convinced.

 

“What, Cat Laguz don't have nine lives?” Ike asked with a snicker.

 

Ranulf's reply carried a note of indignation that sounded almost real.

 

“I resent your racial stereotyping!” he snarled, before the inevitable smirk appeared. “Besides, you cost me at least three of my lives when you sat on me during your lessons.”

 

Ike flushed a deep red, partly from embarrassment and partly from Mist's grip on his neck.

 

“I didn't sit on you, I tripped!” Ike answered, sounding somewhere between amused and defensive.

 

The foursome shared a good laugh at that anecdote and Mist, tired from dancing and roughhousing with her brother and breathless from the prolonged hilarity, slid to the ground gasping for air. Ike ruffled her hair affectionately, prompting Mist to swipe at the offending hand.

 

Once again, Elincia felt the temptation to let the issue of Ike's lingering in Melior keep for another day. But, she forced the notion out of her mind. While seeing Ike and Mist, finally, unburdened either by the War or the tragedy of their parents had gladdened Elincia's heart, it also reminded her of just how much she needed to relinquish Ike.

 

For Mist's sake, as much as for Ike's or her own.

 

“Would you two mind if Ike and I spoke privately?” Elincia asked.

 

Ranulf and Mist turned to each other and exchanged sly grins that seemed to hint at some shared secret. Before Elincia could decipher it, though she doubted that she could've, the two turned back to face her and Ike.

 

“Sure,” Mist replied, smiling brightly and enveloping Ike in a tight hug.

 

It might've been Elincia's imagination but she could've sworn she heard Mist whisper `good luck' to her brother. Ranulf, a brief chuckle escaping his lips, had one more barb for the pair.

 

“Now, behave you two,” Ranulf quipped with a wink.

 

Ike colored again, but Ranulf turned away before further words were exchanged. He moved alongside Mist and gripped her shoulder with one hand.

 

“So,” Ranulf began casually, “do you want to tell Rolf that he's your husband now or should I?”

 

Mist's response was to drive her heel against Ranulf's foot with surprising strength. Ranulf, letting out a credible impression of a pained yelp, clutched at the `injured' extremity while bouncing on one foot. Ike watched as Ranulf continued to hop up and down and twist in the air while uttering monosyllabic explications of pain while Mist angrily stomped off into the distance. Ranulf eventually ceased his bouncing and, pretending to be hobbling, followed in her wake. Ike shook his head in bewilderment.

 

“I swear,” Ike muttered, “his mouth is going to get him into trouble one of these days.”

 

“So says the man who insulted the Apostle in her own Throne Room,” Elincia retorted unthinkingly.

 

The instant the words left her lips she, once again, clapped a hand over her mouth in shock at herself.

 

For an instant, she feared that Ike would take umbrage to being reminded of that moment, but he didn't appear to be angered. In fact, to Elincia's surprise and relief, he seemed amused.

 

“Touché,” Ike conceded with laugh. “It took me a while to live that down.”

 

Elincia couldn't help but wonder if her words following the altercation had contributed to that, it certainly would've explained why he'd avoided her for much of their stay in Begnion.

 

“Still,” Ike began, another laugh accompanying his words, “I say Ranulf would've said something just as bad in my place.”

 

Elincia tried to picture Ranulf in the Apostle's Throne Room, and his reaction at learning that the Begnion Empire was ruled by a thirteen year old girl. It made for an interesting picture.

 

“So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” Ike asked.

 

Elincia took a deep breath, seeking the courage she needed to say what had to be said. Her gaze shifted, almost ashamedly, away from his face and in the direction of the Festival. Whether it was because her courage was too little, too fragile or because she just couldn't bear to see how Ike would react to her words, she did not know.

 

And, to be honest, she didn't particularly want to think about it.

 

“Ike…,” she began, the words yet to come stabbing at her heart. “Why are you still here?”

 

For a stretching moment, neither of them spoke. Ike regarded her with a look of puzzlement before a mischievous grin dawned on his features.

 

“Well,” Ike began, “for one thing, I'm your escort. I'm not supposed to leave until after I get you back home.”

 

Elincia's gaze snapped towards Ike, her fists clenching until her fingernails threatened to draw blood.

 

“Don't joke with me Ike,” she retorted, the firmness in her voice surprising even her. “I just…I just want to know…”

 

In the midst of her words, that strange weariness she'd felt following the speech returned with a vengeance and she suddenly found herself swaying. Once again, Ike's hand found her shoulder and steadied her. Her gaze met his, the concern in those azure eyes now quite familiar to her. Their proximity, and the small distance between their lips, was also familiar.

 

Something like this had happened some two years ago, at Nados Castle. With difficulty, she forced away the memory. She considered extricating herself from his grip as well, but didn't trust her legs to bear her weight.

 

“Ike,” Elincia began again, “why haven't you left Melior?”

 

Talking this directly, talking like Ike she observed distantly, seemed strange to her. The words she'd spoken seemed to lodge themselves in her throat, burned her mouth and felt awkward on her tongue. These sensations, however, simply could not compare to that of the words stabbing at her heart as she awaited Ike's reply.

 

Ike, blinking, gazed at her as if uncertain that he'd heard right.

 

“What?” he replied, his puzzlement ill concealed.

 

It was a small word, a simple word, but his expression told volumes more. He looked as if he'd just been slapped. His eyes were wide and unblinking, his jaw was slack and his brow was furrowed in confusion. Statement, and a hint of injury, were evident in his expression.

 

“Ike,” Elincia repeated, more carefully this time. “You know how much I appreciate everything you've done, for Crimea and for me, and that so little of it was of your choosing. And, I know how much it cost you. You have my eternal gratitude, though I know it cannot bring back your father nor can it undo the hardships that you've suffered.”

 

Elincia unconsciously drew in a breath of air and held it, anticipation clashing with dread at Ike's reply. She felt certain, painfully so, that he'd choose this moment to finally ask to be released from her service and disappear from her life.

 

She expected that, but it did not happen. Ike's face swept itself clean of shock and his expression composed itself into one of simple curiosity tinged with concern.

 

“What brought this on?” he asked, his tone betraying some lingering puzzlement. “For starters, the only thing I gave you was a few headaches from how stupidly I acted.”

 

Elincia's disagreement was instant.

 

“Nothing you did was wrong,” she told him, that strange firmness again in her voice. “Protecting Ranulf at Toha, allying with the Laguz Emancipation Army, agreeing to help the Apostle expose Duke Tanas, rescuing Reyson and Leanne, sheltering the Talregans, sparing the Priests at Palmeni Temple, rescuing the soldiers at Delbray, helping Nasir to save Ena and forgiving them. Perhaps those weren't the logical courses of action but they were right. I believe Master Greil would've done the same in your place, you spoke many times about how he taught you to treat others in good faith.”

 

A look of nostalgia flashed across Ike's face at the mention of his father and Elincia suddenly found herself wondering if she'd struck a nerve. She knew, all too well, that the old wounds left by a parent's death reopened all too easily.

 

“That's kind of you to say,” Ike replied, prompting a discreet sigh of relief from Elincia. “But, I'll never be the man that my father was.”

 

Elincia disagreed. Strongly. Though she had known Greil for mere days, she learned much about him from Ike's stories during those rambling conversations they'd had aboard Nasir's ship. Ike, rather like herself, knew very little about his parents, since his mother had died when he was small and his father was secretive even with his own children, but she knew that Ike worshipped his father.

 

But, true to his nature, Ike placed himself in his father's shadow. While Elincia and most of the Greil Mercenaries (the exception being Shinon, naturally) regarded Ike's defeating the Black Knight as Ike having finally become his father's equal in skill and courage, Ike considered it merely a statement of his father's greatness rather than his own.

 

“Even if that's true,” Elincia spoke up, “I know he'd be very proud of you.”

 

Ike replied with a smile, a skeptical smile but a smile nonetheless. While Elincia would've gladly told Ike why she believed so, even if it was doubtful that Ike would be convinced, she knew that she had to say what needed to be said before her tenuous resolve deserted her.

 

As if in response to her thoughts, the frost of dread began to spread across her mind again and threatened to freeze away her brittle courage.

 

“Ike,” she began once again, “you've done so much for me, more than I could've dreamed, and for this country as well. And, more besides that, my father's vision is coming to life because of you.”

 

Before, Ike merely looked puzzled. Now, he looked genuinely astonished.

 

“What?” Ike blurted out, his jaw dropping. “Hold on a minute, you did more than me. You were the one that negotiated with Caineghis and the Apostle to bring them over to our side and you've been working so hard to get the Council to pass your reforms. Even I can tell that you've been working yourself too hard.”

 

“None of that would've happened without you,” Elincia countered. “These are difficult times for Crimea; the War and the Reconstruction have been hard on all of us, but the people have come to believe in my father's dream. And, not just in Crimea but in Gallia, Phoenicis and Begnion too. And, it's mostly because they believe in you.”

 

Again, bewilderment overtook Ike's features and he had to shake himself into some semblance of calm before he replied.

 

“You're wrong,” he told her flatly. “Don't you remember what Lucia told us when we crossed Riven Bridge? `The secret princess of Crimea is fighting to save us all.' It was the rumors about you that gave the people hope that the War was ending.”

 

Now, it was Elincia's turn to look bewildered. Granted, she had heard what Lucia had said, even though she'd been somewhat distracted by the astonishing realization that the people had acknowledged her existence after all her years of living in secrecy, but she knew that the credit was not hers. And, she was intent on making this clear.

 

“Even so,” Elincia replied, “you led the War effort. The troops couldn't fight without strong leadership, you gave them that. You held the Army together, you led them in battle and they admire your leadership and courage.”

 

“Troops can't fight without inspiration either,” Ike countered. “You gave them that. And, you were the one who was tending the wounded and, like I said, you're the one who won over our allies. I mean, can you picture me as a diplomat?”

 

Elincia, distantly realizing that the fatigue weighing down on her had somehow vanished and was replaced by a dull headache, shook her head empathically. She'd heard, from time to time, that Ike's indelible humility could sometimes be frustrating.

 

She didn't believe it. Until now.

 

“I didn't win anybody over,” Elincia shot back. “The Apostle wouldn't have sided with us if you hadn't exposed Duke Tanas. And, Tibarn likely would never have allied with us if you hadn't rescued Reyson and Leanne. That whole time I was trying to curry favor with the Apostle, and furthermore King Caineghis sided with me for my father and uncle's sake rather than my own. I was not the one who had to give orders that might cost a loved one's life nor was I the one who had to ponder logistics and troop movements and Goddess knows what else. I…I did so little compared to the rest of you.”

 

“So did I,” Ike replied, his tone grim and flat.

 

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. During the tense silence, Elincia found herself idly wondering at Ike's words. And, at her own. She had long since known that Ike was a humble man, but this had astonished her. It was true that she had tended the wounded, she still remembered constantly having to force away her fear of the sight of blood and shedding bitter tears when one of her patients died under her care, and she remembered the meetings she'd had with Caineghis and Sanaki. But, her contributions always seemed so small compared with everyone else's.

 

She found, in that train of thought, a tinge of realization. Was that where Ike's humility came from? Because his eyes were always on the whole of the War effort, and on the great myriad of Beorc and Laguz soldiers fighting in the conflict, rather than his own place in it? Because he was always comparing his own contributions to the War effort to that of the others combined and always found the former vastly outweighed by the latter? Apparently, as Lucia had observed that morning, humility had its drawbacks.

 

Ike broke her train of thought with a soft, nervous chuckle.

 

“We could probably go on like this all night,” he joked, his expression again becoming one of concern. “Elincia, please tell me what's really bothering you.”

 

Still trying to stave of the frost and the now re-gathering sense of fatigue in her mind, Elincia tried to give voice to two years of constant confusion and worry.

 

“Ike,” Elincia began again, this time her voice coming out firm and sure, “I truly cannot thank you enough for everything you've done. But, the War is over. You don't owe my anything, and I know that you have your own affairs to attend to. Your Mercenary Company needs their Commander and Mist needs her brother, and I know that you hated being made a Lord against your will. You gave me back my country; let me give you back your freedom.”

 

Ike's gaze was now stern

 

“Elincia,” he began, his tone almost scolding, “you can't give someone a country or freedom, it has to be earned just like anything else worth striving for. You should know that better than me. Your father and uncle earned Caineghis' trust by trying to unite the Beorc and the Laguz. Sanaki earned Reyson's forgiveness by taking responsibility for the Serenes Massacre which everybody else wanted to pretend never happened. Jill earned our trust by wanting to learn the truth about the Laguz and fighting alongside us. Nasir earned my trust by helping us during the War and to rescue Leanne. And, you earned my respect a long time ago by working so hard to help us and by not giving up even when things seemed hopeless. That is why I always believed you'd be a great Queen.”

 

Elincia couldn't help a tinge of embarrassment at being lectured like this, but she brought her attention back to what she needed to say.

 

“Even so,” she continued, forcing her voice back to the firm tone she'd used moments before and sweeping her face clean of emotion, “you've done enough and I must learn to stand on my own. Please, go home.”

 

Elincia discreetly drew in a nervous breath. This was it; she had finally said what she had dreaded saying practically since they'd met: she had asked him to leave and she knew that he would. She knew that this was what he wanted, to return to the people he loved and leave behind the big city and the selfish Nobility that he so despised. And, she knew that he wouldn't come back.

 

It was the right thing to do, the honorable course, and she knew it was the least that she could do for him after all the service and sacrifice he'd done for Crimea and for her. And, she knew there was no better way to show that she loved him than to set him free.

 

So why did it make her feel so miserable?

 

“I could do that,” Ike admitted.

 

The words were like a slap to the face, and Elincia's gaze once again wandered away from Ike and towards the ground. The frost in her mind spread and thickened until it became an icy tomb that froze away thought.

 

“I wanted to do that,” Ike continued.

 

The frost in Elincia's mind became even colder, seeming to take the memory of waltzing with Ike in Serenes Forest and all of her illicit fantasies about Ike staying in her life and turning them into sculptures of melancholy reminiscence that she knew would never truly melt. They would linger on in her mind as eternal reminders of both the terrible selfishness that nearly made her ask him to stay against his will, or to follow him when he left, and so many wonderful might-have-beens that could have occurred if she'd heeded that call.

 

The frost numbed her thoughts so much that she overlooked the oddity that Ike had said `wanted' rather than `want.'

 

“But I'm not going to,” Ike finished.

 

***************************************************************** *******

 

Ranulf: I'm getting sick of this co-host job! Why'd you have all those dogs chasing me? How did Soren beat me in Doraven?! Why did Ike sit on me while I was teaching him the Demosthene, and how'd he cost me three lives?! What's the big idea calling my Patsy?! I mean, couldn't I have been Sir Galahad in the Castle Anthrax with all those pretty women between sixteen and nineteen and a half?

 

Muarim: *Impersonating Sir Lancelot and dragging Ranulf away* No, it's too perilous.

 

Falchion1984: *Takes an Advil* Well, now that that's over, back to the story. Anyhow, we've come to the pivotal moment here. I hope that the dialogue remains satisfactorily in character and that Ike's dumb answer was as amusing as I hope. Another goal I have in this story is to, more-or-less mature the characters by making Ike seem set in his conviction to higher purposes and Elincia a little tougher, as well as making both more emotionally realistic. Another thing I was hoping was to show their humility as a shared trait and, given the length and seeming absurdity of their little mutual admiration lecture, I was hoping to get the audience thinking something like `Yeesh, these two deserve each other' as well as to build suspense for Ike coming clean. I hope you'll tell me how I did in your reviews and that the little cliffhanger there entices you to read more.