The question hit like a slap in the face. Valtharen found himself almost flinching as he looked up from his coffee and to Greyson. The red-headed Elezen watched him for a time, shoveling cheese-laden eggs into his face as he enjoyed the breakfast his newly found company had made.
“You can’t sit on Rimegeist for too long,” he noted. “And I already know you’re not into Greystone.”
Valtharen gave a nod, pushing around the eggs on his plate. Despite a battle well fought the night before, he didn’t have much of an appetite. “My mother offered her family name in the past,” he said, rolling his shoulder in a shrug.
“...But?” Greyson pressed, a brow lifting to quirk his freckled expression.
Setting his fork down, Valtharen leaned from his plate with a sigh. “If I am going to go through this all… why not go all the way?” he asked, running a hand through his platinum locks. “Why not forge my own path?”
A grin quirked Greyson’s lips and he gave a nod. “Why not indeed?” He leaned in a little more. “So, what name do you have in mind?”
Valtharen gave a faint smirk and shook his head, “Would you not like to know?”
“Are you really going to make me wait to find out when everyone else does?” Greyson asked, lifting the mug of special coffee to his lips.
Valtharen chuckled and shook his head, “I want to be sure it is what I want before I make any sort of announcements.”
“Cautious as always,” Greyson said with a chuckle before returning to his breakfast. “Well, at least let me know when they have a job for me, will ya?”
Valtharen gave his old friend a grin and nodded. “Of course.”
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Snow drifted through the air, the light flakes almost suspended in the gentle breeze. Amidst a grove of sap covered pines stood a tall form, an Elezen man enveloped in fur-lined armor. Platinum blond locks played in the light stream of air, obscuring the man’s face more than the armored plate already had.
Alone in the woods, Valtharen lifted a hand to remove the armor covering his face. His glacial gaze swept around the surrounding woods before lifting a hand to his lips and loosing a loud high-pitched whistle which echoed off the treetops. All he could do now was wait and hope his call did not go unheard.
“You take a risk, boy,” a low growl cut through the quiet of the snow.
Valtharen turned on his heels, grabbing for his lance as he did. He was met by an older Elezen, hair once a lustrous crimson now dull and streaked with gray. Piercing green eyes settled on the younger man, cold as the frost clinging to the needles of the trees surrounding them. A scar rode his dour expression from eye to lip, hinting at a tale of combat. His blade was already drawn, shield at the ready. The only thing that prevented him from running the younger Elezen through was his honor.
“You take one yourself, father,” Valtharen replied. “Conversing with a heretic,” he said bitterly.
“You chose this path,” Thalosius replied, jaw setting as he leveled his gaze on his son.
“I did not choose to be labeled a heretic,” the younger man snapped. “I did not choose to be condemned by my brothers and sisters. I did not choose to be hunted like a damned dog!” His voice boomed against the settling snow.
“You chose this path when you felt sympathy towards the Dravanians,” Thalosius said evenly. “I did not raise you this way,” his voice grew pleading. “Please… come back. We can fix this.”
Valtharen laughed bitterly. “No. I do not believe we can. Not when Witchdrop is on the table. Not when you have sent people to attack my friends.” He shook his head slowly, feeling his gut twist. “Not when you try to burn down my life and those I care about.”
“You cannot keep this up,” Thalosius frowned. “You cannot keep running and endangering those around you.”
“They are only endangered because of you!” Valtharen replied, jutting a finger towards Thalosius. “You could have just let me go!”
“Let you go? To what end? You are a knight of the Tempest Riders. You do not belong amongst mercenaries and drunkards,” the older Elezen replied. “You are better than that.”
“Am I?” Valtharen replied, brows knitting. “These people have become family to me - family that you never provided.”
Thalosius flinched at that, taking a step forward to thrust his shield towards Valtharen. Not having expected his father to react in such a way, Valtharen stumbled back as the cold metal connected with his armor.Â
“You ungrateful wretch!” he snarled. “You spoiled little bastard! Everything I did was for you! That house, the Order… your damned title! What more could you want?”
“Freedom,” Valtharen responded softly, shaking his head. “That is all I ever wanted; the freedom to choose.”
Thalosius stared at Valtharen, shaking his head. “You always have a choice. And now, you can choose to come back with me.”
“I choose trial by combat,” Valtharen replied evenly, his gaze leveled on his father’s. The younger Elezen had made up his mind and there would be no talking. He had enough. The time to end this all had come. “If I win, I will have proved my innocence and you will leave me be. If I lose?” he gave a shrug. “I will find freedom in death.”
Thalosius’ jaw worked, his teeth grinding as he considered his son’s words. “You had best settle your affairs, then. Say your goodbyes and the like.” The older man’s gaze fell briefly towards the snow underfoot. “Say something to your mother.”
“You say something,” Valtharen retorted. “You tell her that she will be childless because of you.”
The feel of steel slammed into the side of Valtharen’s head, knocking him to his knee. A hand lifted to feel a stream of warmth flowing from his temple where the shield had connected. A whirlwind took over the younger Elezen. Part of him couldn’t believe the cold distance his father had kept - the other remembered the years of training and punishment growing up. Valtharen balled his hand into a fist as he slowly rose to his feet.
Just then, Cirrus appeared overhead. Valtharen turned his gaze to the shadow overhead then back to where Thalosius was standing only to find himself alone. Lifting a hand, he rubbed at his face before turning towards the lanner. He had a duty to the large falcon. He would not let it be interrupted by the exchange.
Her voice was a gentle symphony riding the breeze, a siren calling out over the rolling sea. The soft scent of vanilla wafted through the sweet spring air, warming the senses in a subdued tease. A bright smile lifted ruby lips as the flaxen haired Elezen maiden approached the confused knight.Â
“L-Lucinda?” Valtharen stammered as he turned to see the woman. “What are you doing here? Why …”
“You have to come back,” she pleaded, stepping towards him. “Please. I … I miss you.”
The dragoon’s heart slammed in his chest and fell to his gut as the woman he’d felt so strongly for closed the gap between them. He didn’t want to question her sudden appearance - her seeming change of heart. He wanted so badly to believe he’d finally been worthy of her.Â
“I cannot,” he said, shaking his head.The countless warnings not to do anything stupid or impulsive ran through his mind. He’d received enough of them that they were hard to forget.
“Why not?” she asked, brows drawing together in a frown. “If you come back and face justice, you can restore your honor and finally we can be together.” As she said this, she slipped her arms around him and drew close, brushing her lips to his. “I have been waiting for you…”
Valtharen found himself fighting to hold steady, to not give in and completely lose himself. He wanted with everything he had for it to be true - for her to want him the way he had wanted her for years. But for her to come out of nowhere as she had? To suddenly be so near? It was just so … unbelievable.
“Lucinda… I,” he began in a thick whisper before swallowing hard and leaning back. “I just cannot.”Â
Frowning, the woman shifted to pull away, warmth retreating. “Are you truly so certain this is how it must be?”
Valtharen gave a nod, clearing his throat. “It is,” he affirmed quietly. “There are -”
Suddenly, her beautiful face twisted into something so grim and hateful the knight barely recognized her. Before he could step away, a sharp pain ripped through his chest, rending a wet gasp from his lips. With wide eyes, he looked down to see the handle of a blade sticking out from between his ribs. Not knowing what to do, he staggered back and fell to his knees. When next he looked up, Lucinda was fading away.Â
“Let it be known that I have granted you mercy, disgusting traitor,” her voice dripped with vitriol, echoing in his skull.Â
Darkness began to play on the edges of his vision as the world spun around. When did he end up on the grass? Fingers played over the shell of his ear, the touch stabilizing him just long enough for dread to set in as he felt his linkpearl being removed.Â
His vision began to fade once more. A crown of crimson hovered above him, accompanied by a pair of floating emeralds. There was something familiar about this visage. Was this to be their reunion; in the Aetherial sea?
“D-Dani?” he wheezed before succumbing to nothingness.
