Chapter Text
Ever since ancient times, it was a well-established tradition for the comrades of fallen soldiers to look out for the family they had left behind. It was one of the few things one of his brothers-in-arms could do to grant the dying a peaceful passage to the afterlife, the knowledge that those whose he held dear would be taken care of.
Raiden Shuga didn’t really receive that much formal training as a soldier, but he knew a thing or two about camaraderie and honor.
But was it duty to a fallen comrade what had brought him to this moment? Was it really such a pure feeling, or was it something more warped? Who could say it wasn’t envy for what was once his ?
He’d probably never know.
But the hard truth was that Shinei Nouzen, his captain, his comrade of many battles, and his best friend, laid in the cold soil of the land of his ancestors since years ago, having finally crossed the path he had guided so many others before, his tomb adorned by fresh flowers he had asked years ago.
And Raiden was there, waiting at the altar for the woman that should have been his bride.
The day of his funeral had been… strange, to say the least. It was a bright winter morning, the sun shining on the sky but the air lacked any sort of warmth. It was almost as if the heavens were laughing at the sorrow of the mortals below.
She had been more composed than any of them expected. She didn’t cry. She didn’t break down. She remained stoic in the first row, surrounded by Anju and Grethe. It felt painfully adequate. Another woman added to the list of those who donned the black veil of mourning before the happy white of her wedding dress.
Her calm had been nothing but a farce. All of them knew about the press putting all their eyes on her. The famous tactical commander of the Eighty-Six Strike Package, that guest official from the cursed Republic of San Magnolia, the one who had managed to end the war, but failed in bringing her soldiers back.
(Shin’s casket hadn’t been the only one to be buried that same day. In the next row, right behind him, Kurena rested her endless sleep in a similar dark coffin, following her leader even on death, while Shiden, who had protected her queen until the very end, had been buried right in the front of her Brisingamen comrades fallen in the Mirage Spire.)
A young woman, barely older than a girl, guiding soldiers in war. Public opinion hadn’t waited much to criticize her, to question her abilities and the judgment of the people who had granted her that position in the first place.
And so, in order to preserve the fragile peace they have attained after shedding so much sweat, blood and tears, to preserve the last of her dignity, she had to put on a show and had forbidden herself to shed even a single tear, not even for the man she had loved and lost.
He had been close to her, on the other side of Anju, as the newly appointed operational commander of the Strike Package. An empty post in a unit soon to be dismantled that left a bad taste in his mouth: this was his rank; it was his place to be. He should be the one here besides Lena, seeing off their fallen comrades before retiring to a discreet corner where they could share their pain and seek comfort with each other.
Filling for him had never been so hard as it was at that moment.
He still remembered them, those two girls standing in front of his tomb after the ceremony was over. Neither of them was crying, and yet their silent watch was more painful to see. In the end, it had been Lena, living up to her duty as commander, who had put a hand on Frederica's back and told her to go home. Ernst had to force her to come to the service. All of them blamed themselves, thought they could do more, but of all the survivors, she had it the worst. So many people had been lost to protect her, the last hope to put an end to this irrational conflict. She had known every one of them, their faces, their names, their deaths… She relived them countless times over the next years, during the day, in her nightmares. She never got over the losses they took that day.
Maybe no one of them fully did.
In the first months, Lena devoted herself to her job, reorganizing, administrating, rebuilding. She had a whole country to restore, after all.
She didn't stop. She didn’t allow herself to stop.
She seemed to drift more and more apart, isolating herself from them, hiding behind her duties. It was something some of them had expected, but to see it happen hurt nonetheless.
Being the one to try to bring her out of that felt natural for him, who has always been the one to look out for the rest. He knew it would only hurt her more in the end, to lose even the friends she had left. That was why he had gone to see her instead, allowing her no chance to escape.
"Sorry. Facing you all is… hard. I still feel like I failed you.”
That's what she had said.
Somehow, he understood. It was something she had already done at some point, using her efficient, ruthless Bloody Regina persona to hide the true nature of Vladilena Milizé: a weak, overemotional girl trying hard to do all she could amidst all the devastation surrounding her. It was easier to drown in work, to barricade herself behind her competent, strong façade than to face her own grief. After all, that part of her needed by this wrecked, fragile world left behind after the war against the Legion. She had the perfect excuse.
But no matter how much she tried to look away, she couldn’t keep running from her own heart forever…
“I thought about it, you know? About fulfilling our promise, to go watch the sea. But… it isn’t the same. He may have opened the way for me to do it, but when I think about going on my own… It just feels lonely. He isn’t at my side to show me those places. It feels… meaningless.”
Time had passed. Some wounds healed. Some still stung like old scars on bad days.
Anju and Dustin had finally tied the knot, and not long after, they announced they were expecting their first child. Everyone had been ecstatic: finally a new life born after so much death. There were felicitations, and emotional reunions, and joyful parties with all the survivors of the Strike Package.
But, in an uncharacteristically way coming from her, Lena hadn’t said anything. Not a visit, not a call, not even a letter of congratulations, even if she had been in the first row at their wedding.
“It’s hard, you know?” She admitted when he went to check on her. At that point, it wasn’t a rare occurrence: Lena was stuck on her post in San Magnolia, so he made a point of visiting her once every few months. “To see them and to not think about what we could have if Shin had-”
She couldn’t end the phrase.
Her voice broke in the middle, and she raised her hands to cover her face. He looked otherwise, knowing she didn’t want to be seen in moments like this. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of them, even if they were no longer oppressed and oppressor, nor commander and subordinate. Even if they were friends and comrades who had gone through hell together. Lena still put it over her shoulders, the pressure on to keep herself together.
It hurt to see.
She took a big breath before letting her hands fall. There were no signs of tears on her face, but her red eyes betrayed her composed expression.
“I don’t want to ruin her happiness with these feelings. After all, she knows it… She knows it better than anyone.”
(The following silence brought back echoes of the silly, clear laugh of a good-tempered young man, with hair as gold as sun rays and eyes the hue of clean skies. Another soul lost to the flames of war.)
“She deserves this happiness. I don’t want to spoil it.” He frowned.
“… You deserve happiness too. That’s what he’d wanted.”
She forced herself to form a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’m happy.”
“That’s a lie if I have seen one.”
Now it was she who looked away, sighing and letting her shoulders drop, admitting defeat.
“I’m… content. I’m alive, I have things to do and a home to return, and I have you all. What else should I wish for?”
The silver bell tolled. There was a bitter resonance in its ringing.
“That’s not enough… That’s not enough for someone like you, Lena.”
He felt like he had to do something.
It took some mingling and some convincing ( “How long has it been since you took vacations anyway? ”), but in the end, he managed to make her take a break. To look outside.
"Look."
To finally face it .
The sea he had promised her long ago.
"This is what Shin wanted to show you. He might not be able to stay at your side to do it himself, but... He managed to create a world in which you could see this. So, in a way, he is here. In every sunset in the sea. In every starry night. In every scenery he wanted to show you. So. Could you at least let yourself remember that before giving up on this world?”
Tears had fallen through her cheeks. For a long while, only the sound of waves and the cries of seagulls had broken the silence between them, but… at some point, she had turned to face him.
And smiled.
It has been the first time since his death that she had actually smiled. It had been a breathtaking sight, like the first lights of dawn appearing on the horizon after the longest night.
His heart skipped a beat.
And then he realized.
He had fallen for her.
Thinking twice about it, it felt obvious. How could he not? She had always had a certain endearing charm, so natural, so inherent of her, that you didn’t even notice the moment in which you had fallen for it. Theo and Kurena hadn’t been able to keep their initial resentment towards her, warming up to her until she became another comrade-in-arms. The Brisingsamen members had followed her, always fiercely loyal to their Queen, and Shiden in particular had kissed the ground she walked on. Even Shin, distant and closed as he had been, had let down his walls and remembered how to wish and hope, just to be with her. And like all of them, there had been countless others, only deterred from coming closer to her by the imposing shadow cast in her direction by the Reaper of the Eastern Front.
Every Eight-Six loved their Queen, in one way or another.
He just hadn’t admitted this was his way to do so until now.
He had declared his intentions head-on. He had never been one to fully hide his emotions, nor one to flee, after all.
And somehow, she said yes.
Why had she accepted to try in the beginning? Had it been because of the loneliness which was eating her from the inside? Had it been to feel something different from the pain and emptiness that surrounded her since that fateful day? Had she tried to give herself a second chance?
He didn't know, but he was sure it hadn't been love. Not in the start at least.
They went slowly, step by step, like little birds learning to fly. There was no pressure, no longer that feeling of urgency given by the fact that they could die the next day. Also, by that point, they were no longer the wild teenagers they had been when they first met each other: time and pain had made them warier of happiness, more prone to appreciate the quiet joy of little, mundane things.
It had been strange for him, to focus all his attention on one person; and for her, used as she was to the explosive emotions of first love. Her second try on it had been hard, and timid, afraid from pain, but he was patient. He would never ask for anything more than she was ready to give.
After all, he still felt like he was stealing something from him.
But weeks became months, and months became years, and somehow, they pulled through, growing strong together. She began to smile more, to act like the kind, wilful, endearingly clumsy girl he had met all those years before. They came out in the open, and even if their friends were surprised by the fact they were together, there had been not a single word of recrimination.
(One sleepless night, after a pair of drinks, Anju had repeated to him the same words Shin had told her that snowy night back in Roa Gracia.
"After all, I don't think he would've wanted her to stay chained up like this. Not you, for that matter." )
"Hey. It’s been a while."
He greeted him, but the only answer he got was the cold wind of early winter on his face. He paid it no mind. He had avoided this place ever since he began dating her. Coming here, facing him- it still felt like treason. And yet…
His eyes focused on the fresh bouquet of red flowers which sat in front of that dark gravestone.
"I see Lena keeps bringing you fresh flowers every week. You must be happy."
He smirked, dropping the comment casually, almost as if he was teasing him again. Almost as if he was trying to break the ice. Almost as if he was facing an old estranged friend, which was ridiculous. You can’t drift apart from a dead person, right?
“...”
… Or maybe you can, and you do, as you keep living and moving on while he will remain unchanged in your memories. He will never grow up to be an adult, he will never know what it means to live in a world at peace.
It happens as years pass and memories grow old and distant, as you can no longer remember his voice. As you don’t want to remember him because it brings pain and guilt and it feels like stealing your own current happiness. It happens as you shove him into the same abyss of oblivion from which he tried so hard to keep everyone from falling into.
Damn it.
“... I’m sorry. For everything.”
In the end, he was a weak, cowardly person, only trying to avert his gaze from the truth.
He bit his lip. So much for not hiding or fleeing.
“But it’s hard. I bet you know it pretty well.”
There may have been a time when they both had learned to act like death was normalcy, an inevitable fate. But even back then, they couldn’t really avoid the hard truth that loss hurt. All they were doing was looking away and trying to ignore the fact, pushing down those feelings of pain and sorrow with all they could to keep themselves from falling into despair.
And he , who survived longer than anyone in that inferno, who acted as their Reaper and took the mission of collecting the dead and keeping their memories, who acted cold and aloof but in truth was kinder than everyone suspected at first glance, had to know that better than anyone.
So maybe he should allow himself to face it, not only the pain of his loss but also the uncertainty of never knowing if Shin would be alright with what he was doing. After all, he owed him. To remember him, to be able to face those memories even if they pained him, was the least he could do.
And so, he could start now…
"And I'm sorry for this too,” he said softly, as he squatted down in front of the gravestone and brought a hand to his right pocket. The little box inside seemed to grow ten tons heavier for every second he had spent in front of that grave. “I know it's her but…”
He stopped, at a loss for words. How could he begin to explain what happened? He could talk long about pain, and emptiness, and the search for new meanings, and attempts to start over, and new beginnings and quiet yet ardent feelings, but… It wasn’t necessary. Those who died were already gone, and so, those words would never reach him. And even if that wasn’t the case, in the hypothetical case he could see them… He would bet he was closely watching over her.
So, a short report would suffice. He had always preferred those after all.
“You asked me to look after her if something happened. I don't think you meant this, but I couldn't help it. I bet you understand. You loved her too."
His eyes went back to that crimson bouquet, exactly the same color those eyes had once been. He smirked again.
"And she still does, you know? Love you, I mean. Those flowers prove it. But…”
His thought went back to her, the determined, kind-hearted woman he had come to love. The girl who would give up a comfortable easy life to follow an ideal too bright to be real. The girl who would care even about the damned ones her country had sent to the gallows, no matter how many times they pushed her away. The girl who would force herself to be strong and to keep advancing even as her world crumbled before her eyes. The girl who would stick her neck out for them, for the sake of justice, for the hope of finally obtaining the peaceful world she dreamed of, even if she couldn’t really enjoy it herself in the beginning.
Once upon a time, he thought she wouldn’t last a minute out there before this cruel world crushed her. Nowadays, he compared her to a diamond: strong, resilient, pure… precious.
Her heart and willpower were just too big to be beaten.
“She has always had lots of love to give. To everyone.” He concluded. “So… Could you share a bit of it? Do you think I deserve it?"
The cold wind blew in his face again, bringing to him only the whisper of naked branches swaying in the nearby trees. No other noise could be heard in this solitary graveyard.
"Yeah, sure.” He closed his eyes and got up, patting his trousers. “I'm an idiot to ask it to a tomb. The living can't interact with the dead, you always said."
He looked at the gravestone again, dark, cold, almost impersonal. His friend wasn’t actually on it, not really, but this was as good as he could have now. So…
"I promise, I’ll keep trying to make her happy. For both of you. And for myself too. Call me an egoist if you want, you have every right."
He turned around. For some reason, the wind didn’t feel as cold as before.
“See you later, Shin.”
All the whispering died out when she made her appearance at the church’s door.
Music began to play, and she went down the aisle. Alone, for no paternal figure was alive to walk beside her, for the Bloody-stained Queen of the Eighty-Six was strong and proud, and wouldn’t accept anyone trying to fill that place. She wouldn’t allow anyone to take away from her the pain of letting go, nor the burden of facing the judgment of the world and the dead.
And yet, walking down the aisle, with the light of the setting sun shining upon her, she was breathtaking, painfully beautiful. A part of himself thought this was wrong. He shouldn't be the one waiting for her at the altar. He should be here, sure, but only as a companion of that idiot, making sure he wouldn’t combust from bottled-up anxiety...
But he wasn’t there anymore.
And so.
As she joined him at the altar, he offered his hand and she took it. And for the first time this evening, she smiled, allowing herself to share them with him, both the sorrow of tears and sacrifices, and joys of love and hope.
And so, it began. The start of radiant nights and noons.