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rose_in_winterCharacters/Pairings: Calintz/Reith
Rating: PG
Contains: Spoilers through the end of the game.
Notes: Written forroseargent in the second round of newgameplus
Wordcount: 1535
Summary: Slight AU/canon what-if, diverging in Lake Astine just before Calintz goes to Nordon at the end of the game. Faced with a number of unpalatable truths and seeming betrayals, Calintz has some decisions to make about what his given word means to him, and how he is going to deal with these revelations.
Beta: None
Calintz pushed the food around on his plate like the pieces of Reith's—Amila's—mask. He wasn't hungry, but his body needed fuel, and he couldn't give up yet.
Reith needed to be protected.
No, that wasn't right. She had needed to be protected. Now everything had changed.
She was a Yason.
He'd loved her.
He did love her.
He dragged trails of gravy around the plate, bisecting the rice like a bloody river over sand. He'd promised to protect her.
A mercenary was only as good as his word, because his reputation was critical to being able to eat. He wouldn't be hired if word of his failures became known.
Calintz considered the jumbled wasteland of food on his plate, and then pushed it away from him in disgust. The real reason he was here wasn't because he was grieving, though he was, and it wasn't because he was ashamed of Reith—Amila—no, Reith, she would always be Reith, because Reith was kind and gentle and innocent, where Amila was the hated enemy. He wasn't ashamed of her protection. In some ways he marveled at her sacrifice. She had given up so much to protect him from the Light of Salvation.
No, it was none of those things. He wasn't even ashamed of losing to Agreian; he'd long been aware of the general's skills in hand-to-hand combat.
He'd given away his birthright, and spent his life living a lie, in unspoken fealty to Hugo.
That was what shamed him.
He wondered if Agreian had known who Reith really was. It would not have surprised him in the slightest if that had been true.
He supposed to revelation of her identity made her inexplicable impulses to give succor to Yason more comprehensible. It certainly was nothing like the tales of Amila he'd heard fighting along the border.
The Ice Queen of the Yason, ruling her people with a steel-taloned grip.
Calintz left the meal on the table, and enough Sid to pay the bill twice over. The innkeeper would ask no questions. He'd been here often enough when he'd been fighting in the area. He paid well and caused no trouble, and that made him welcome in an area where, he was honest enough to acknowledge, the mercenaries could at times be worse for the village than the Yason. He picked up the tray he'd requested and took it with him, ignoring the stares of the locals.
He went upstairs and let himself into the room as quietly as possible. It was hard to tell under the pile of quilts, but he didn't think she had moved since he'd gone downstairs to eat. He set the tray on the bedside table and leaned close to Reith.
She lay with her eyes closed, her normally shining brown hair limp and dirty around her face, matted here and there with blood. He didn't know if it was his, or her own. As far as he knew, she hadn't awakened. She looked different, now—so thin he could count the bones beneath skin stretched too tight, and her skin—normally silky-soft—was dried out and chapped, as though all the Water Chi that surrounded her had been drained. Her lips were cracked and he could see dried beads of blood on them.
As far as anyone knew—except Orha—Queen Amila of the Yason had died. It would take so little to make the story reality, and Calintz thought he could either lie convincingly to Orha or silence him with steel.
He didn't move his hand toward his sword.
Instead, he picked up the carafe of spring water from the tray and poured some into a glass. He tipped just a very small amount onto Reith's lips and watched her swallow reflexively. She made a slight sound and her eyelids fluttered.
"It's just water," he said, doing his best to sound reassuring. He almost wished Justina was here, or better yet, Eonis or Lehas. He was terrible at a sickbed. Lehas had told him so multiple times, at the top of her voice. And he was out of healing talismans; he'd used them all up just keeping Reith alive.
He tipped more water onto her lips. It ran back into her mouth, and she swallowed again. Patiently he gave her the entire glass. When he stepped back from the bed to refill it, her eyes opened.
He wasn't sure what words would come out if he spoke—whether they would be relieved, or angry—so he busied himself with the pitcher.
"Where are we?" It didn't sound like Reith's voice at all, cracked and parched and with the pitch lowered and roughened by the pain and wounds that had been inflicted upon her.
"Near the Maracatte border," he answered.
He saw a shift in her expression, and saw Reith slipping away beneath Amila's cool mask as memory made itself known. "And Agreian?"
He thought she must be an unholy terror as Queen, when even weakened and wounded she put that much weight of command behind a two-word question.
"I don't know." Yet. The unspoken word hovered. He put down the pitcher, and turned back toward the bed. "There's soup," he said, gesturing at the tray. "I can help you sit up."
She tried to push herself up, and scowled when her limbs didn't cooperate. Calintz stepped closer and slid an arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her up and bracing her while he used his free hand to tuck pillows behind her. She murmured her thanks, and began coughing. He offered her the glass of water.
When her coughing eased, he set the tray across her lap. The look she gave him warned that if he tried to feed her like a child, he was like to end up bitten, a sentiment so unlike Reith that it jarred him into stepping back.
She ate very slowly, her limbs slow to respond to her demands, and had to admit defeat halfway through the bowl of broth. Calintz held it for her so she could drink it slowly, and tried not to think about the inner voice that demanded he strike down the Yason, regardless of what she had done for him.
"What will you do?" she asked, and she was more Reith this time.
"Wait for you to get well," he said. It was an equivocation and they both knew it.
"He won't stop."
"Then I will stop him." Calintz glared at her.
"My Chi is depleted," she said after a moment. "I won't be much help to you in battle. But my sister could help you."
The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "And what if I kill your sister just for being Yason?" he asked bitterly.
She studied him. "You haven't killed me," she said.
He tipped his head to acknowledge the point, just as she said, "And Orha would destroy you."
"I don't know what to do about you," he said.
She said nothing, only let the silence stretch out. At length he spun away, the dangling side panels of his clothing making a sharp snapping sound as he did so. "I let Agreian do this," he said. "I told him how to destroy Fuget, I let him take my place as Mistress Ladrinne's son, and I gathered the pieces of the Light of Salvation for him. It's my fault."
"You did all those things," she agreed, though her tone was without censure. "And they are in the past. So. What are you going to do now?"
"What else can I do?" Calintz shouted at her. "Other than kill him?"
She tilted her head. "And why is that an unpalatable solution?" She must have seen his shock, because she shook her head. "That was…unkind," she said after a moment. "Yet the question stands. Clearly, he is not the friend you thought he was. He has betrayed you. He threatens the people and the land you have fought to protect. Or is it that you are so opposed to helping my people, that you will let your own be slaughtered to spite us?" The last sentence was said with such cool savagery that it took him several long moments to realize the barb under the words.
When he did, he turned away from her, his fingers worrying the ribbons that hung from his shirt. She said nothing, though he knew from the silence behind him that she had not moved.
"I need to get more healing talismans if you are going to be fit to travel," he said at last.
"Do you think you could get a bath, too?" she asked somewhat plaintively, and there was the voice, the inflection he recognized. He turned toward her, and saw her game attempt at a smile, though it made her lips crack and bleed more.
"I could probably arrange it," he said, and forced a smile. "My work pays well."
She tilted her head in acknowledgment, and he went to purchase the talismans. Yason or not, she was still Reith somewhere in there. He would get used to it, because being without her would be harder.
His new determination lightened his steps as he exited the inn.
Rating: PG
Contains: Spoilers through the end of the game.
Notes: Written for
roseargent in the second round of newgameplusWordcount: 1535
Summary: Slight AU/canon what-if, diverging in Lake Astine just before Calintz goes to Nordon at the end of the game. Faced with a number of unpalatable truths and seeming betrayals, Calintz has some decisions to make about what his given word means to him, and how he is going to deal with these revelations.
Beta: None
Calintz pushed the food around on his plate like the pieces of Reith's—Amila's—mask. He wasn't hungry, but his body needed fuel, and he couldn't give up yet.
Reith needed to be protected.
No, that wasn't right. She had needed to be protected. Now everything had changed.
She was a Yason.
He'd loved her.
He did love her.
He dragged trails of gravy around the plate, bisecting the rice like a bloody river over sand. He'd promised to protect her.
A mercenary was only as good as his word, because his reputation was critical to being able to eat. He wouldn't be hired if word of his failures became known.
Calintz considered the jumbled wasteland of food on his plate, and then pushed it away from him in disgust. The real reason he was here wasn't because he was grieving, though he was, and it wasn't because he was ashamed of Reith—Amila—no, Reith, she would always be Reith, because Reith was kind and gentle and innocent, where Amila was the hated enemy. He wasn't ashamed of her protection. In some ways he marveled at her sacrifice. She had given up so much to protect him from the Light of Salvation.
No, it was none of those things. He wasn't even ashamed of losing to Agreian; he'd long been aware of the general's skills in hand-to-hand combat.
He'd given away his birthright, and spent his life living a lie, in unspoken fealty to Hugo.
That was what shamed him.
He wondered if Agreian had known who Reith really was. It would not have surprised him in the slightest if that had been true.
He supposed to revelation of her identity made her inexplicable impulses to give succor to Yason more comprehensible. It certainly was nothing like the tales of Amila he'd heard fighting along the border.
The Ice Queen of the Yason, ruling her people with a steel-taloned grip.
Calintz left the meal on the table, and enough Sid to pay the bill twice over. The innkeeper would ask no questions. He'd been here often enough when he'd been fighting in the area. He paid well and caused no trouble, and that made him welcome in an area where, he was honest enough to acknowledge, the mercenaries could at times be worse for the village than the Yason. He picked up the tray he'd requested and took it with him, ignoring the stares of the locals.
He went upstairs and let himself into the room as quietly as possible. It was hard to tell under the pile of quilts, but he didn't think she had moved since he'd gone downstairs to eat. He set the tray on the bedside table and leaned close to Reith.
She lay with her eyes closed, her normally shining brown hair limp and dirty around her face, matted here and there with blood. He didn't know if it was his, or her own. As far as he knew, she hadn't awakened. She looked different, now—so thin he could count the bones beneath skin stretched too tight, and her skin—normally silky-soft—was dried out and chapped, as though all the Water Chi that surrounded her had been drained. Her lips were cracked and he could see dried beads of blood on them.
As far as anyone knew—except Orha—Queen Amila of the Yason had died. It would take so little to make the story reality, and Calintz thought he could either lie convincingly to Orha or silence him with steel.
He didn't move his hand toward his sword.
Instead, he picked up the carafe of spring water from the tray and poured some into a glass. He tipped just a very small amount onto Reith's lips and watched her swallow reflexively. She made a slight sound and her eyelids fluttered.
"It's just water," he said, doing his best to sound reassuring. He almost wished Justina was here, or better yet, Eonis or Lehas. He was terrible at a sickbed. Lehas had told him so multiple times, at the top of her voice. And he was out of healing talismans; he'd used them all up just keeping Reith alive.
He tipped more water onto her lips. It ran back into her mouth, and she swallowed again. Patiently he gave her the entire glass. When he stepped back from the bed to refill it, her eyes opened.
He wasn't sure what words would come out if he spoke—whether they would be relieved, or angry—so he busied himself with the pitcher.
"Where are we?" It didn't sound like Reith's voice at all, cracked and parched and with the pitch lowered and roughened by the pain and wounds that had been inflicted upon her.
"Near the Maracatte border," he answered.
He saw a shift in her expression, and saw Reith slipping away beneath Amila's cool mask as memory made itself known. "And Agreian?"
He thought she must be an unholy terror as Queen, when even weakened and wounded she put that much weight of command behind a two-word question.
"I don't know." Yet. The unspoken word hovered. He put down the pitcher, and turned back toward the bed. "There's soup," he said, gesturing at the tray. "I can help you sit up."
She tried to push herself up, and scowled when her limbs didn't cooperate. Calintz stepped closer and slid an arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her up and bracing her while he used his free hand to tuck pillows behind her. She murmured her thanks, and began coughing. He offered her the glass of water.
When her coughing eased, he set the tray across her lap. The look she gave him warned that if he tried to feed her like a child, he was like to end up bitten, a sentiment so unlike Reith that it jarred him into stepping back.
She ate very slowly, her limbs slow to respond to her demands, and had to admit defeat halfway through the bowl of broth. Calintz held it for her so she could drink it slowly, and tried not to think about the inner voice that demanded he strike down the Yason, regardless of what she had done for him.
"What will you do?" she asked, and she was more Reith this time.
"Wait for you to get well," he said. It was an equivocation and they both knew it.
"He won't stop."
"Then I will stop him." Calintz glared at her.
"My Chi is depleted," she said after a moment. "I won't be much help to you in battle. But my sister could help you."
The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "And what if I kill your sister just for being Yason?" he asked bitterly.
She studied him. "You haven't killed me," she said.
He tipped his head to acknowledge the point, just as she said, "And Orha would destroy you."
"I don't know what to do about you," he said.
She said nothing, only let the silence stretch out. At length he spun away, the dangling side panels of his clothing making a sharp snapping sound as he did so. "I let Agreian do this," he said. "I told him how to destroy Fuget, I let him take my place as Mistress Ladrinne's son, and I gathered the pieces of the Light of Salvation for him. It's my fault."
"You did all those things," she agreed, though her tone was without censure. "And they are in the past. So. What are you going to do now?"
"What else can I do?" Calintz shouted at her. "Other than kill him?"
She tilted her head. "And why is that an unpalatable solution?" She must have seen his shock, because she shook her head. "That was…unkind," she said after a moment. "Yet the question stands. Clearly, he is not the friend you thought he was. He has betrayed you. He threatens the people and the land you have fought to protect. Or is it that you are so opposed to helping my people, that you will let your own be slaughtered to spite us?" The last sentence was said with such cool savagery that it took him several long moments to realize the barb under the words.
When he did, he turned away from her, his fingers worrying the ribbons that hung from his shirt. She said nothing, though he knew from the silence behind him that she had not moved.
"I need to get more healing talismans if you are going to be fit to travel," he said at last.
"Do you think you could get a bath, too?" she asked somewhat plaintively, and there was the voice, the inflection he recognized. He turned toward her, and saw her game attempt at a smile, though it made her lips crack and bleed more.
"I could probably arrange it," he said, and forced a smile. "My work pays well."
She tilted her head in acknowledgment, and he went to purchase the talismans. Yason or not, she was still Reith somewhere in there. He would get used to it, because being without her would be harder.
His new determination lightened his steps as he exited the inn.