#musesparks

“i’m just gonna preface this with real talk for a minute, ashe-- dimitri is already proud of you, i can guarantee it. you just keep doing what you’re doing, his princeliness is gonna support you ten million percent. buuuut if you want to get that up to a solid twenty million... what you want to do is study with friends! make sure they’re friends you can trust to keep you on track and not start goofing around. and that way, you can not only get help if you don’t get something, you can prove how much you’ve learned by tutoring someone else.”

“  you need to be more cautious, raphael.  what would we have done if you had died?  ” a curl of the mouth, and as much of a glare as the ghost-like features of marianne can muster. they sigh, and crane their neck to look up at him. ( they could taste the hypocrisy lingering on their lips, escaping their body with each syllable. ) “  these missions that we are being sent on, these people we are fighting, they take no quarter. and .... i for one, do not want you to be sent back home in a pine wood box. ”

Zephiel’s expression betrayed no glee nor savage triumph. As he watched the cowering boy run, he felt nothing. His stare was utterly devoid of any emotion. Even with the corpse of Roy as he feet, his gaze was unblinking, his manner completely unaffected by his murder of a child. 

“Will you pursue him, milord?” asked one of the soldiers.

“Yes,” answers Zephiel, his voice cold and unchanged. “If Lycia is unaware of their staggering defeat, then we gain the upper hand. Pursue the boy and imprison him; kill him if you wish. So long as you guarantee that his lips remain sealed, I care not for his fate.”

The soldiers obeyed. The War Dragons roared as they stepped forth from the staircases, serving as his reinforcements. Man and dragon worked as one to block the entrances, so that they’d entrap the fleeing boy and ensure his death or capture. As they moved on Wolt, Zephiel stepped from his throne and examined the Roy’s fresh corpse. As they dueled, something had caught his eye. It was not enough to distract him, but it had certainly gained his attention. 

There it was! Emblazoned upon Roy’s blade was a familiar gemstone. The Fire Emblem, stolen from Bern by his treacherous sister. Poor, foolish Guinevere. She had entrusted her hopes to an idealistic child that had likely reminded her of him. Roy was as naive and trusting as Zephiel once was, and that was likely why Guinevere had trusted him so much. Her emotions led her astray, for, even now, she had pined for the days of their happier childhood. 

Zephiel knelt down and pried the Binding Blade from Roy’s hands in a swift, fluid motion. 

Told Through The Eyes - Accepting! - @musesparks