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Chapter Text

In their path towards Lostwing, Clive silently walks behind Cid rather automatically, his feet creating crushing sounds on the fertile ground, the lushy greenness around him marvelous and magnificent. But he´s not paying much attention to his surroundings, not even to the incredibly big hound following him as if it were an obedient puppy, the warrior´s mind completely lost in the mayhem of his many conflictive thoughts.

It´s more than obvious he´s a deserter now, and though he always knew it was only a matter of time, it still surprises him the way his decision came so bluntly, so much without effort nor regret. Therefore, what truly has his mind and heart in turmoil is the return of his dearest childhood friend.

Jill Warrick is alive! Not only that, but she is a Dominant! And by the Founders, she is none other than Shiva’s Dominant, for crying out loud! Shiva, one of the most ancient and revered Eikons known in Storm!

Though, if he can be honest with himself, she being Dominant is not the only thing that has him surprised, since he couldn´t help but notice Jill´s exquisite face and soft, feminine curves, even if hidden behind layers of dirt and blood, but that still are stunning in ways he had never in his wildest dreams imagine from the little girl he once knew. The little girl who had blossomed magnificently, radiating strength and confidence that, in a matter of minutes of fighting against her, left him utterly fascinated, finding himself both awed and deeply impressed by the woman she has become.

A strong and beautiful woman whom he was about to slain.

“Is it true, then?”

The deep voice of his new comrade startles him, thankfully taking him off from the ominous path his thoughts are going astray.

“About what?”

“You being acquaintance with Shiva´s Dominant?” Cid turns to look at him, but Clive looks away, refusing to elaborate, so Cid tries to guess. “What is she to you? Maybe someone working at your father´s castle, perhaps?” The young man´s stern glare doesn’t deter him from his rant. “Or… maybe a war prisoner of your father´s?”

Clive raises an eyebrow at the question. “What?”

Cid shrugs. “Well, she can´t be from your family, since the Rosfield´s bloodline had never extended that far away from their own lands, and it´s very well knowledgeable your family warred against the Northern Kingdom for decades, especially after the appearance of the Blight.”

“What makes you think Jill is from the Northern Kingdom?”

Cid smirks. “So, her name is Jill, eh?”

Clive´s brow furrows and decides to keep quiet. He doesn´t want to compromise Jill´s position any further. They walk in silence a couple of minutes until Cid´s sudden and noisy gasps startles Clive.

“By the Founders! Jill Warrick is Shiva´s Dominant! Former Princess of the Northern Kingdom and Rosaria´s ward! Am I right? Why didn´t I see that before?!” At Clive´s silence, Cid keeps talking as if he were talking to himself, all too excited to stop. “It all makes sense now… the girl´s gray hair and very pale skin, even when she comes from the Iron Kingdom… your determination to protect her even at the cost of your own life… oh boy! You should be thrilled at the reunion with your childhood friend!”

Damn it! Was it that obvious?

“I don´t know what you´re talking about…”

Cid chuckles at the terrified expression in the boy´s countenance, and palms him in the back, startling him even more.

“Don´t worry, believe it or not, I´m quite passionate by history, especially about famous battles, including, and maybe especially, your homeland´s battles. I admired your father, you know? Quite the strategist, and magnificent regent. I could tell you thousands of stories written on the books and scripts about him…”

“Not interested…”

Cid nods, sensing that this may not be the right time to bring up the painful memory of his murdered father—if there ever is a right time. Another silence falls between them, thick with unspoken words. Clive begins to sink back into the solitude of his somber thoughts, retreating inward, when Cid unexpectedly breaks the silence again.

“You should be careful with that girl, you know? Jill Warrick. Have you any idea of what she´s been through?”

“I don´t care.” But his answer, quite fast and without thinking, is an absolute lie. Because he cares. Oh, Founders! He cares about her so much! He would love to know all about her! About the little girl that was so close to his heart like the sister he never had, the only link he has now of Joshua, who loved her as much as he did. Cid waits, understanding his feelings, until Clive finally gives up and asks. “What… what was of her?”

Cid nods and sighs, his left hand resting upon the twin blades of his waist.

“So, you don’t know?”

“No…”

“Well, I guess it couldn´t be avoided, after your mother sold you to the army, it was natural you lost track of everyone.” Clive glares at the man, hard, but Cid just chuckles. “Why does it surprise you? You ought to know all of our lives are written in books somewhere, scholars in our lands enjoy doing exactly that, and even more so about your bloodline and all royal´s bloodline as well, which includes Jill´s, of course. Plus, I very much enjoy hearing or reading their recollections about our history. After all, they say history tends to repeat itself if we don´t know it, right?” He puts a hand upon his chin, musing. “With all that´s happened to me so far… might as well write one book myself.”

Clive harrumphs to return him from his musings. “Weren´t you going to tell me what happened to Jill after my mother…?” He hesitates from saying the words. After all those years, he has to accept the betrayal still hurts him. Cid nods and sighs again, understanding the young man´s feelings, as he recollects his thoughts.

“Let me recall… When House of Rosfield fell at Phoenix Gate, the very next day the Ironblood seized the strategic advantage and launched an assault on the Duchy with ruthless precision and bloodlust. It’s widely known that the Ironblood mercilessly slaughtered all the men and took the surviving women and children prisoner. But they only took the younger women. The records tell us that older women were executed alongside their men, while the younger ones, as well as boys and girls, were kept as war captives.”

Clive lowers his head. “Oh… Jill…”

But Cid doesn´t notice Clive´s mood, all too spent in his tale. “Thinking about it now, it all adds up. I’m almost certain your friend Jill was among those captured. It finally makes sense to me—I never could understand how an Ice Eikon of such beauty could have been forged in the fiery hellscape of a volcano. Being born in a snowy territory, she must have suffered terribly just from the unbearable heat of Drake’s Breath… where it’s said they hid their Dominant for years.”

And it was all because of him. Jill was taken by the Ironblood because of his mindless actions… The weight upon his shoulders only grows. Another slap in his back almost stumbles him up front.

"Come on, big guy. Now that she’s back, she’s your responsibility. From what I’ve read, your dear old dad kept her under his roof, which means she would’ve been safe and far from Ironholm if he hadn’t taken her in with you and your brother… And, rumor has it, he let her grow up alongside his sons. So, who knows? Maybe he was grooming her to one day become your bride.”

His words send flares of intense blush upon his cheeks.

“W-what??”

Cid laughs out loud. “Well, wasn´t it obvious? You were the first born, and she was Rosfield´s ward, brought to your house to ensure the Northern Kingdom kept the peace treaty, which better way to ensure it than to mix their royal bloods? For all historians, it was quite a natural thing to happen.”

“But… but it was Joshua the one to inherit my father´s throne...!” There´s a high-pitched tone in his voice he can´t recognize as his own.

“Well, I don´t know much about it since I´m not royalty, but for a strategical movement, I´d leave the hand of the heir to another, higher ranking princess. Jill, though a princess, had her kingdom already as Rosfield´s vessel. Her rank wasn´t as high as needed for the heir. No no, I´m sure your mother had her eyes set on someone higher ranking for her youngest, most precious son.”

Clive lowers his head in sadness. “But if Jill… was to be my bride to be… I´m not… I´m not good enough for her anymore… my hands… are stained with the blood of countless victims… And which is worse, of my own brother´s blood…”

Cid playfully punches him in the chest. "That, my friend, is exactly what your focus should be from here on out."

Clive shakes his head, all too eager to deviate their conversation towards safer paths. “But… but you haven´t told me yet, why did you save her? Why would you take her from the Ironblood?”

“Why would you, of all people, ask me that? Didn´t you do the same? If I recall correctly, when I came to you, you had her body already enveloped in your arms, protecting her from the horde of Ironblood coming to claim her.”

“I only saved her from the Imperials who sought her demise. But by the looks of it, you were already hot on her trail.”

“Just as you were.”

“As I said, I was tasked of taking her head, Shiva´s Dominant´s head, that is… never thought it would be Jill the one I was commissioned to kill.”

Cid runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. "Well… you’re right. My intel indicated that Shiva’s Dominant was among the Ironblood ranks that fought that day. I also heard rumors of someone... rather mean... who was after her. With information like that, I couldn’t just sit by. I had to make sure she was somewhere safe—preferably with us, instead."

The younger man rolls his eyes at the older one. “I think I´m a little too old for such nicknames.”

“Oh? Are you?” Clive glares and Cid chuckles. “Fine, fine. I guess you´re right, you´re quite the powerful assassin, or so I´ve heard.” He sighs. “I heard Benedikta was seeking to claim Shiva´s Dominant as hers.”

Clive opens his eyes wide. “Benedikta? As in, Benedikta Harman? Why would she be interested in Shiva´s Dominant, she being a Dominant herself?”

Cid shrugs. "Beats me. But if I had to guess, I’d say she either wanted Jill to join her ranks or intended to kill her. No one knows for sure. And while the latter didn’t exactly trouble me, the former was a dangerous possibility I couldn’t ignore." He pauses, his gaze turning distant, almost reflective. "It’s been years since I last tried to free a Dominant from their shackles. At first, I succeeded… but in the end, I failed miserably. I guess part of me needed a second chance."

“Some sort of atonement?”

“You could say that.”

“So, what? Now you´ll blackmail Jill to fight for you?”

Cid looks at him as if he were crazy. “Are you mad? Why would she fight for me?”

“Because you saved her from her imprisonment.”

“She can lay down her weapons for all I care. What I want from her, is to be able to choose. To have a choice in life. I mean, of course I´d love to have the powerful Shiva fighting by my side, but it´s Jill´s choice to make, not mine.”

They walk in silence a little more, until Clive can´t hold his curiosity any longer.

“About Jill… do you… know what happened to her… during her time with the Ironblood?”

“Haven´t you heard how their people are?”

“I´ve only heard they´re very savage in battle, and very… orthodox in their religion. And that they treat branded as less than garbage, less than slaves.”

Cid caresses his chin. “Mmmh… Only battle information and, obviously, information of interest for the branded, right?”

“It´s not like I could move out of the Empire so freely, being a branded…”

“You don´t need to travel in order to get information, and you well know that.”

“Well, true, but I… wasn´t interested to know about a world that brought me to my knees...”

“And what about your people? Ever cared to know what had happened to them?”

Clive blushes at the question. “I felt that… by knowing, it would only give me homesickness. And I couldn´t afford that...”

“And Jill? Did you ever think of her? Ever thought about finding out how was she faring?”

"I…" He shakes his head, his face shadowed with guilt for never making the effort to check on her well-being. "I always thought… she was alright. I prayed she was safe. I assumed that, being a princess, as sweet and beautiful as she always was, as she´s always been, Jill would be well taken care of. I imagined her royal blood would secure her a marriage to a noble lord who’d protect her."

This time Cid does glare at the young man. “Knowing the hearts of men, you still believed such garbage?”

Clive lowers his eyes in shame. And Cid remains silent a little longer.

“It´s not my place to tell you what happened to her, first off, because I can only imagine, knowing the type of savages the Ironblood are. But also, because it is her tale, not mine, to share. You´ll have to ask her if you want to know.” He sighs and looks straight ahead. “But the only thing I can tell you is this: take care of her, take good care of her, Clive, for she´s suffered enough to now be abandoned by you. A second time in a row.”

“But I didn´t abandon her!” He protests heatedly. “At least… not on purpose.”

Cid runs a hand over his head, letting out a weary sigh. "I know—that’s exactly my point. While you’re dedicating your life to vengeance, maybe you should think about helping her too. Consider it… a way to atone for all the terrible things you’ve done. After all, she was a ward of Rosaria. As a political hostage, it´s your duty to ensure her well-being, something the duchy of Rosaria failed to do."

Clive answers heatedly again. “She wasn´t a hostage! She was raised like a sister for Joshua and I!”

Cid´s gaze drifts up to the moon, a distant, reflective look in his eyes. "She was still a little girl separated from her homeland… twice in a row. I can only imagine what that last hostage situation must´ve been for her.”

Clive opens his eyes wide. He had never stopped thinking about Jill´s feelings. He always assumed she was happy to grow with them, that Joshua and himself were enough for her… but then, weren´t they?

Cid shrugs, scuffing a rock along the path with his boot. "But hey, what do I know, right? She was like a sister to you… or maybe even meant to be your bride one day. Either way, I’m sure she’d be thrilled to stand by your side on this path of vengeance. After all, as a Dominant, she’s probably carrying her own share of sins she feels she has to atone for."

Clive looks at his feet, confused at the emotions running wild. But promising himself that, this time, he wouldn´t let her suffer alone.

------------------------

“Clive!”

Back at the Infirmary, and once given permission to see Jill, Clive practically had run towards her bed, sitting beside her like he used to when they were mere kids. And just like those sweet times, he is startled by her all too sudden hug.

Thirteen years of only touching others to fight or harm has taken a toll on his mind. As her arms wrap around him in an unexpected embrace, his body freezes, unaccustomed to such tenderness. But the familiar feel of her smaller body against him—though she no longer fits quite as she once did—the scent of her skin, the soft fragrance of her hair, stirs a flood of memories from their childhood. In that instant, his own body responds instinctively, his arms closing around her with a quiet desperation, craving the solace and warmth of her touch.

“I can´t believe you´re alive, Jill…”

“Oh, Clive! I…” Her voice falters, the words catching in her throat as tears spill freely down her cheeks. Unable to respond, she clings to him, pressing herself deeper into the safety of his embrace. Her silent vulnerability draws a gentle smile from him as he holds her closer, offering the comfort they both so desperately need.

Though they hadn’t been particularly touchy during their teenage years, he recalls the innocent gestures they did share—mostly just holding hands, or occasionally, the mutual hugs amongst the happiness of special moments.

In those days, she was nothing more to him than a little girl—a sweet little sister he felt compelled to protect, like an older brother would. He was bound to Joshua as his sworn shield, yet he guarded her all the same, even without such a promise. But looking back, and he can recognize it now, whenever he caught a glimpse of her gentle eyes or saw that sweet, innocent smile, a quiet joy filled his chest. It was beyond simple happiness; his heart would race, and his stomach would flutter, stirred by her presence in a way he didn’t quite understand.

As a teenager, he hadn’t understood those feelings back then, but now, he welcomes the feeling of completeness that comes with her touch, with her embrace, as though by holding her, he’s reclaiming a part of himself—a part that felt so much like home— one that he had thought was lost forever.

Jill rests her head on his shoulder, not quite eager to let go yet. “I´m so happy it is you… I always knew you´d come for me, Clive…”

He pulls her closer, his embrace tightening as he hears her voice tremble, feeling his own on the verge of breaking. “I’ll always come for you, Jill… I’m sorry it took me thirteen years to keep my promise…”

She shakes her head against his shoulder. “No need to apologize. You came—that’s all that matters to me.” She tries to pull back, to look into his eyes, but he holds her tighter, unwilling to let her go. A soft giggle escapes her, realizing he feels the same need to stay close just like she does. After a moment, his arms loosen, allowing her to finally lift her gaze. Her beautiful steel-blue eyes glisten with joyful tears as they meet the midnight irises she had so longed to see again. “It’s… like a dream come true. Please, tell me I’m not dreaming…”

He chuckles softly at her seemingly silly request, a warm smile spreading across his face.

“What a nightmare that would be, then, given that I´m all sweaty and bathed in monster blood.”

“You´re so silly…” She giggles at his words, leaning further into him, but her movement makes him realize how close his lips are to hers, and a rush of self-consciousness floods him. Flustered, he releases her fully, straightening his posture while silently pleading for his heart to calm its frantic rhythm. Yet, despite his efforts to regain composure, his smile never fades, lingering as if pulled by a force beyond his control.

“I could say the same about you. Sitting here beside you, seeing you alive and well… it feels like a dream,” he murmurs, a hint of wonder in his voice. “And I have to say, it’s impressive just how much you’ve grown.” His gaze sweeps over her, lingering for a moment before he raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

Jill laughs heartedly at his words, though can´t help a faint blush grazing her cheeks at his scrutiny. “Oh, for Metia! You sound so much like an old man!”

Her crystalline laughter fills him with such warmth and joy that he can’t help but laugh along with her, the sound breaking free despite the despair that had weighed so heavily on him just hours before.

“Well, you can´t deny I´m much older than you.”

She slaps his arm, much too eager to keep touching him. “You´re not much older! You are just three years my senior!”

He points a finger at her. “And never forget that, young lady.”

She laughs openly, wholeheartedly, as if she’s once again an innocent child untouched by sorrow and evil. Jill can scarcely believe how her heart, once shattered and numbed by years of torment, can now be so full of warmth and joy. And yet, here it is—this traitorous heart racing wildly in her chest, like an untamed chocobo, perhaps even faster than when she was a young girl with a foolish crush, blushing fiercely whenever Clive would grab her hand and lead her off to another adventure, which usually ended with a stern lecture from his mother. The memory of those carefree days only makes her heart race faster now.

“Just because you were more than a head taller than me doesn´t mean you are that much older. Besides, I can almost reach you now! In a few years, I´ll be as tall as you.” She´s joking, of course, but at least the bad joke gives her an excuse to place a hand over his head, ruffling his wild hair.

“Hey!” He shakes his head to get rid of the intromission, but his smile is wide. “Remember I could lift you up very easily. I´m pretty sure I can still do it, even when you´ve grown horribly taller.”

“Oh, for Metia’s sake! Horribly taller?” She exclaims, bursting into laughter with a mock look of indignation. “I remember the time you tried to carry both Joshua and me in your arms—so full of yourself! We ended up falling flat on our backsides! I don’t think I’d ever been so sore in my life!” She laughs so hard she can barely get the words out, her eyes bright with amusement as she reaches for his hand, savoring the warmth that radiates from it.

“I remember that day! You both were so heavy! I swear my back still aches from it!” He laughs, turning his palm to grasp her hand in his. Jill giggles at their shared memories, feeling the innocence of their childhood spark between them. She places her free hand on his forearm, unable to stop herself. Why does she feel this need to keep touching him? It’s as if his touch is the only thing grounding her, reassuring her that he’s truly here, not just a feverish dream conjured by her imagination.

After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she’s thought he’d come to rescue her during the depths of a pneumonia attack. Back in the Ironblood dungeons, in one of those occasions her feverish haze made her imagine him by her side, a comforting presence amid the darkness, only to awaken alone and heartbroken.

She shakes her head to send away those horrible memories and, as her gaze meets his once more, those deep midnight eyes make her feel as if she’s coming alive again. It’s as though she’s twelve years old once more, swept up in the same breathless, quiet love for her childhood friend.

That´s why she immediately notices his eyes filling with a darker hue, his smile faltering, all at the mention of the beloved brother.

And she can see true pain and mourn forming behind those much adored irises.

She leans forward, seeking to give him comfort, but as her hand brushes his arm again, he suddenly stiffens and retrieves his hand from hers, the tension in his body echoing through hers, freezing her in place.

“Are your wounds healed?” His deep, masculine voice she´s starting to adore is filled with a tint of grief she can easily recognize as his.

Her brow furrows at his words. Oh, what a silly boy! He’s never been particularly good at reading the mood. His timing, as usual, is poor, and his words serve as a painful reminder of the harsh reality they live in. Yet, she understands his pain and his concern—especially knowing him, knowing how much he loves his brother, and how deeply he feels every instance when he thinks he’s the cause of someone else’s pain. It’s sad to see that this tender, self-sacrificing side of him hasn’t changed at all.

Sad, but sweet.

“Yes…” She answers, forcing a smile out of her disappointment, placing her hands over her lap to restrain her need to touch him. “Yes, they have…”

He smiles at her, though it never reaches his eyes. “I´m glad to know that. I´ve heard Tarja is quite the healer…”

“Clive…” Her eyes become sad as well as she notices he´s interchanging only pleasantries and chit chat… the foreplay of the difficult conversation they’re about to have—one she wishes she could avoid but knows is necessary.

She takes a deep, steadying breath, bracing herself. She understands that, painful as it may be, they both need this. They both need to confront the wounds, walk down that sorrowful path left by that fateful day if they are ever to begin healing their hearts and find peace.

Only, this time she won´t let him walk this path by himself.

Chapter Text

“You called, master?”

With hesitant steps, the just recently turned 19-year-old woman enters the grand bathroom. Despite her anxiety and distrust, she can't resist opening her eyes wide, admiring the beauty of the place—the kind of beauty she hadn't seen in years. The intricate tilework, the gleaming marble, and the soft glow of the chandeliers create an atmosphere of opulence and elegance. It's a stark contrast to the harsh reality she's been living in for the last seven years, and for a moment, she's returned to the world of her childhood.

The walls are adorned with smooth stone and glazed tiles, intricately decorated with patterns and symbols that depict lotus flowers, griffins, and other mythical creatures the girl has only encountered in the pages of books. Yet, the ones her now lost best friend, Clive, has always assured her truly exist.

“Yes, girl. Hurry up and bring that water. It´s freezing inside here.”

The deep, drunken voice of the castle master startles her awake from her reveries. Jill Warrick, once a princess of the Northern Kingdom and no longer Rosaria's ward, forces herself forward, ready to obey. As she walks, a wave of longing washes over her, as she recalls the two brothers she lost in the wake of destiny, a cry threatening to escape her throat.

But she cannot cry now. After all these years of surviving, she can't afford to give up. At least she’s no longer serving among the prisoners, she tries to convince herself. No longer treated like less than a human being, less than an animal, even less than any branded. Now that she’s brought to a castle, she at least has a little more comfort than in the dungeons. Plus, she has to be strong to survive until Clive comes for her, because she will never stop believing that he will come to get her.

She will never stop believing in him, such thought the only anchor of sanity through this hellhole. It´s this unwavering faith in him that has kept her tethered to reality, a lifeline in the tempest of despair.

The sound of splashing water takes her from her reverie once more and she forces herself to look up front. At the center of the room, her steel blue irises find a large, shallow stone pool for bathing, filled with water from which she can smell perfume with precious oils, probably rose and sandalwood.

And, in the middle of it, the object of her fears.

“Come on in, my child, you delayed too much for my taste.” The nobleman, owner of the palace she´s been working in for almost a month now, a 50-year-old man who is currently leaning against the border of the porcelain pool, holds his arms extended to the side, looking at her intently as he smirks at the trembling figure that approaches him. “Where have you been? I´ve been asking for your presence for quite a while now.”

Jill’s shoulders tremble with fear as she braces herself for what she knows is coming, her heart pounding in a mix of dread and repulsion. But, as the proud creature she´s always been, she won´t let him see she´s afraid. Rising her chin high, she obeys the command, even as her mind drifts to another, silent plea for her brothers, for Clive, to find her—to bring her home.

If possible, let him arrive in time before this has to happen.

“I was… it wasn´t my intention to be late, master. The people in the kitchen delayed to give me the perfume, for it wasn´t ready yet. My apologies…” She bows slightly in respect, and uses it as an excuse to prevent him from noticing her trembling lip, as she gathers her strength. Fear won´t consume her. Not today.

It´s obvious the man doesn´t notice her slip. “No more excuses, child. I paid quite a large amount of gil for you, so I don´t need apologies. I´m just about to be finished with my bath and the water is getting cold. I need it to be warmed.”

“Yes, master.” Jill nods swiftly and leans over to incline the basin she´s holding in her hands, feeling repulsion and dread growing in her chest as she advances. For a couple of days now, the nobleman had been approaching her too insistently, his enormous and sweaty hands resting on her shoulders, her back, her knees… every time he touches her, he leans over her, she feels goosebumps down her spine, while her brain, her whole body, scream at her to just run away. If she could only…

Jill is now but a couple of steps away from the pool as she kneels over the tiles, pouring the perfumed water inside… when her delicate wrist is suddenly trapped by the larger hand of the man, startling her. Scared blue eyes open wide at seeing his horrific face inches from her, the fear making her breath becoming laborious.

“M-master…?”

“You are so stunning, Jill… and I just found out today you used to be a princess… fortunately for me, we knew of it only after winning the pools for your… well, you know… otherwise the payment would be stratospheric, can you imagine?” He laughs heartedly at his own joke, but it only makes her even more frightened. “So, tell me, beautiful Jill, should I be happy a princess is seeing for my needs?” His breath his nauseous, and the girl´s eyes open wide, guessing his intentions as she tries to pull her hand off from his grip, to no avail.

“N-no, master! They informed you wrong. I´m not a princess…”

He leans forward even more while she tries to lean backwards, but he pulls at her hand as his other arm surrounds her small waist, forcing her body to press against his dampened one. He´s now almost completely out of the water and on top of her, his dark and dull eyes now looking feverish at hers.

“I thought I was lucky to have you with us… but now I can only think we were actually blessed…”

“M-master… please…” She´s forcing her words to sound even as she struggles against him, but she can notice her voice breaking, can easily feel the tears of fear running down her cheeks.

“Yes, my child… you´ll soon be pleading for more…”

The terror is so absolute that, when she feels his teeth biting her delicate skin, his hands pulling at her dress, invading her, the girl screams at the top of her lungs, screams so hard that her voice burns like the fire of the volcano… while the air around her, as well as every part of the room, including the horrible nobleman, becomes a blast of white, blue and cold, frozen completely in an eternal ice sarcophagus.

------------------------

The scream that resonates through Lady Hannah´s stables startles Clive awake, as he feels the temperature around him falling like a rapid blast and, as he turns around to worriedly seek for his companion, the only one he sees in front of him is the magnificent Shiva hovering over the ground, the stables completely destroyed, unable to contain the enormous and beautiful body of the Eikon. But the stunning demigoddess, in spite of all her overwhelming power, still managed to control it enough to spare him and the two trembling chocobos cornered beside him, all too scared of her to even try to flee. Clive´s attention returns to the exquisite figure, as silver eyes look at his midnight ones, but it´s as if she were looking through him…

“Jill…?”

Terrified silver eyes close tightly, and the glorious figure turns around in a flash, flying away from the stables, not caring she´s destroyed all the wooden walls in her wake, nor that she´s leaving a path of crystalized grass.

“Jill!!” Clive stands up in a flash and, taking his sword on his way out, the Braveheart, runs towards her, following the path she´s leaving while he sees a couple of people stepping out of their houses, startled at all the ruckus she´s created. He raises his hands towards them to appease them. “It´s alright! Don´t worry, everything is fine! Jill went scouting for a sound.” He wishes with all his might his lie would turn out to be true… but, judging by the haunting look the demigoddess sent him, he doubts that would be the case.

Clive runs as fast as he can, following the icy path, its sides creepily adorned by the frozen forms of many fiends and dangerous creatures in its wake, and Clive sighs. At least he knows she´s safe.

The path stretches far beyond the town’s entrance, winding deep into the heart of the swamp, where the air grows thick and heavy, ending for a moment into the depths of the murky water but almost immediately reappearing in the next shore.

And it´s there, in the murky shadows, where he spots Jill’s figure, collapsed on all fours.

Her slender body is barely covered by a damp, clinging white gown, stained by mud and water, most surely after an unwilling dive inside the waters of the pond right by her side. She shudders with each painful cough, her breaths ragged and strained, echoing through the stillness of the swamp. The sight tugs at him, a stark reminder of the vulnerability of the little girl he used to know, amid the oppressive darkness around them.

“Jill?”

"It’s… it’s okay… Clive…" Jill's voice is weak, barely a whisper as she extends a trembling hand toward him to stop him from approaching further, to appease him, her gaze still fixed downward. She doesn’t turn to face him, as if even the effort of looking up is too much to bear. Between ragged, painful, bloody coughs, she forces out the words, trying to reassure him. "I’m… I’m okay…"

He approximates with hesitant steps until he sees a pool of blood underneath her and falls on his knees in front of her. “Jill!! Are you injured?” But he soon realizes the blood is coming for the fits of coughing she´s still heaving, her coughs sounding so awful he flinches in sympathy. “Please, tell me what can I do for you...”

She shakes her head, inhaling deeply but coughing again, spurts of blood tainting her hands and the soil beneath her.

"It’s… it’s nothing…" she finally manages, her voice a strained whisper. Clive immediately picks up on the raw, raspy edge to her words, each syllable sounding like it scrapes painfully against her throat.

“Jill, this is not normal…”

She shakes her head, panting, trying to inhale deeper so that she won´t cough again, her lips bloodied.

"This is the price… I have to pay… for my sins…”

His brow furrows at that. “Stop joking around, Jill. What sins? Who is making you pay?”

She inhales deeply again, her lungs finally filling with air. “Shiva…”

He opens his eyes wide. “Shiva? You mean this happens to you for… for Shiva´s power?”

“Yes…” She inhales some more, getting her strength back slowly, as she uses the back of her hand to cleanse the blood on her lips. “Shiva, the Eikons, are sinful… or so the Crystalline Orthodox say… Our bodies… my body… can´t sustain Shiva´s full power for long…”

He opens his eyes wide, stunned. He had never heard of such a thing before… among so many other things he still ignores... His eyes become saddened at the idea of her suffering, and he recalls that, indeed, he had seen her walking pitifully and painfully under the sun in the middle of the Ironblood group after her battle against Titan, back in the depths of the Nysa Defile; though he had at first thought it was due to an injury sustained during her battle.

But now that he thinks of it… he saw Cid coughing up as well after using his powers. Why would Jill, many years younger than the man, sustain a greater damage? A chilling thought crosses his mind—would Joshua have suffered too, if he hadn’t died? Or rather… killed by his hand? He shakes his head and forces himself to focus on the here and now.

And now, Jill needs him.

“What happened back there? Why did you fully prime?”

She shakes her head as she still inhales deeper with shacky breaths. “N-nothing… really…”

“Jill, you can´t just fully prime out of nothing…”

She coughs a little bit more, blood staining her hand and lips again, but thankfully, the coughing attack seems to be dissipating.

“Clive… I-I don´t want to talk… about it…”

“Please, Jill, I think it´s important enough for you to go full-prime in the middle of the night…”

“Clive…” He notices she´s trying to straighten herself and he holds her trembling body with both hands grasping her delicate arms.

“Here, let me help you.” Aided by Clive, Jill gets up slowly, though after a moment she can feel she´s able to stand up on her own a little easier.

But the moment she´s standing completely straight, there´s something that Clive notices immediately.

The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow on the delicate cotton white gown Hannah so sweetly lent Jill. Now, dampened by Shiva's unwilling dive into the swamp, the once pristine garment clings to her body, a translucent veil that reveals as much as it conceals. The soft, now semitransparent fabric clings to her curves, accentuating her form in a way that makes Clive blush intensely and turn away in a flash. A delicate eyebrow arches in silent inquiry, puzzled by his sudden reaction.

“Clive? What…?”

He shakes his head. “Your… er… it´s wet… and…”

She lowers her head and notices the cloth figure-hugging her, and she blushes intensely as she turns around and holds herself tightly with both arms, trying to cover herself as much as possible.

“Oh! I´m… I´m sorry! I didn´t notice…”

Clive immediately takes his shirt off and offers it to her. “Here, I´m sure it´ll help some.”

She blushes even more as she turns around and sees his naked torso, the massive muscles that delineate his fantastic anatomy. “N-no! I… I can´t take it…”

Looking to the side, and trying to avoid his eyes going astray, Clive smirks at her. "And then what? Will you walk to the villa looking like that? In case you didn´t notice, many men have already looked you over while we talked to Hannah. I'm sure you don't want more attention of the kind..."

She hesitates, recognizing the truth in his words. She wouldn't welcome such unwanted attention, yet she refuses to shield herself with the shirt and cause him further discomfort.

“But… You are going to be sick…”

“And so are you, though honestly, you´re the one wet all over, not me.” He extends his hand with the offering once more. “Please, Jill. I can´t help your troubles with Shiva´s powers, but I can do this for you.”

Jill hesitates a moment, then sighs, nodding softly. She smiles gratefully at him, accepting the offered garment. As soon as she puts it on, however, self-consciousness creeps in, since she worries about looking ridiculous in the oversized shirt. But then, a wave of unfamiliar sensations washes over her. The powerful scent of his skin, trapped within the fabric, is intoxicating. She can still feel the residual warmth of his body, enveloping her like a comforting embrace. It's as if he's hugging her tightly, just like a few days ago.

Enveloped in a cocoon of happiness, she smiles sweetly as she brings the lapel of his shirt to her nose. “Thank you, Clive, I´m feeling better now.”

He turns around to meet her eyes but then shakes his head. “No, you´re not, you´re as pale as death. Please, let me help you a little bit more.”

She chuckles lightly at his words. "I am already naturally pale, in case you didn't notice before," she smirks, but allows him to place her hand under the crook of his arm. Her fingers, however, unwillingly brush against the warm skin of his chest, a sensation that he seems oblivious to. Or perhaps he simply doesn't mind.

“Yes, I did notice. And noticed as well you´re holding a sort of tan on that skin of yours. Which is why I think you´re paler.” He pulls at her softly, guiding her through the terrain and under the moonlight. “We should get back soon. If I recall correctly, there are many monstrosities lurking around, besides the ones Shiva took care of, and you forgot your sword.”

She looks swiftly at her waist and sighs, noticing he´s right.

“My mistake… I promise this would be the last time.”

“Don´t worry, I´m here for you. I am, after all, bounded by the promise to protect my master.”

She giggles at that, all too happy to feel her strength returning. “It´s funny how everyone just buys it, don´t you think? About me being your master.”

He smiles sweetly at her. “Well, my Lady, I can assure you many branded, and even a few humans, are quite jealous of me having such a beautiful master.”

She blushes prettily at his words, and he feels the greatest man in the world by that simple act.

“I see you haven´t changed at all and still enjoy making me nervous.”

“Oh? Do I make you nervous?”

“I rather not answer to that… But the years have made you even more wicked, for what I can see.”

“Wicked? Mmmh… and here I thought you considered me a gentleman.”

“We´ll see about that...”

They laugh out loud as they walk back to the village, and then fall silent for a moment until Jill sighs.

“What is it?”

"Nothing really, it's just... walking here with you, under the soft glow of the moonlight," she trails off, lost in thought. "It feels as if we're back being the children we once were, living under your father's castle." A wistful smile curves her lips. "Which is weird, because thirteen years have passed, and we're not the same people we once were... but with you..." She looks up at him, her gaze intense, her steel-blue eyes piercing through her lowered lashes. He shivers involuntarily, his heart pounding in his chest. "Walking with you makes me feel as if I were twelve again..." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, but it carries a weight that surprises even her.

“Thankfully, you´re not twelve anymore…” He smiles broadly at her, trying to refer to the blossomed beauty he hadn´t expected from her, but feels confused at seeing her smile disappearing and her eyes looking at the ground with sadness.

“No… I am not…”

“Jill…”

She shakes her head and disentangles her hand from his arm, as she walks determinedly faster.

“We should hurry, Clive, I´m sure Lady Hanna will be worried about us, especially at the state I must surely left her poor stables…” She picks up her pace, leaving him behind as he tries to understand the sudden change of mood. And starts to worry at the memory of the words she spoke with such pain under the moonlight before they went to sleep, of Cid´s words about her tribulations, which resurface his mind, and the idea clenches his chest. He runs to her and takes her by the wrist, startling her as he makes her turn around, her hair flying around her as she comes face to face with her favorite boy now transformed into a man.

“C-Clive…?”

He looks intently at her eyes and, for a moment, the beauty of them, but especially the intense emotions floating just underneath the steel of her gaze dazzles him, and he has to shake his head to fall out of the spell.

“I… I´m not good at words, Jill, I don´t know what I should say to you, to make you trust me, to make you know you´re not alone… I…” He lowers his eyes to the ground, to his hand grasping her wrist, hesitant now if he shouldn´t have touched her. Those are her secrets, what right does he has to meddle with them? He lets go of her immediately. “I´m sorry, Jill… It´s not my place. Forgive me. As you said, we should head back.”

But before he can step away from her, she takes his hand and intertwines her fingers in his, as easily as if they were still teens, as if years, decades even, hadn´t passed by in between the last night they shared under the moonlight and this night.

As if they still were the best of friends.

He smiles at the thought and looks up at her beautiful eyes. Only to find that her smile is probably even more beautiful.

“Thank you, Clive, for coming to get me. I´ll tell you about the nightmare… someday… just not today, please.”

He nods and flexes his fingers upon hers in a comforting and accepting gesture. “I´ll wait all the time you need, Jill. I promise.”

And with that, she lets go of his hand and they walk back to the village, talking animatedly about the days they used to walk those paths, as if it wasn´t midnight and they hadn´t awoken at a scream and a terrible nightmare.

As if they were still innocent teens.

Chapter Text

Flanked by two imposing Ironblood guards, their hulking forms dwarfing her own, Jill navigates the treacherous waters towards Drake's Breath. Every surge of the boat sends a wave of nausea crashing over her, a constant reminder of the perilous journey ahead. She fights to maintain her composure, her gaze fixed on the horizon, refusing to be drawn into the ominous shadow of the Mother Crystal. Yet, its looming presence casts a sense of dread over her, a dark omen of the trials that lie ahead.

The magical handcuffs, designed to imprison her and suppress her newfound magic, dig into her delicate wrists, leaving painful, reddish marks that soon turn bloody. Such instruments of evil drain her strength rapidly, her body protesting the strain. Despite the increasing discomfort, she refuses to yield, her chin held high, a defiant look burning in her eyes. After all these years, she will not let them break her spirit. Not anymore.

She doesn´t know what awaits her in the forsaken island, and the fear has her chest tight, her heart bumping against her ribs with desperation, but she knows she has to survive, some way or the other. She cannot let her flame disappear.

Or in her case, her snowflake to melt before her time.

Feeling the unexpected movement of the boat, Jill is taken out of her reverie and now her attention is drawn to the guard on her right as he leaves her side to approach the boatman in front of them, issuing the corresponding instructions.

“Are you okay?”

Out of nowhere, she's startled by the deep voice of the younger guard on her left. He leans in, discreetly removing his helmet, his voice hushed as he attempts to communicate with her. A surge of adrenaline courses through her as she realizes the risk he´s getting in. Jill has already seen a few Ironblood severly punished or even executed for getting a little too familiar with the branded, too… soft… with the prisoners.

She stares at him, disbelief etched on her face. He had actually spoken to her? Leaning in closer, he smirks at her astonishment, offering her a small piece of bread held between his fingers. Her stomach growls at the sight, a stark reminder of her hunger, but the nausea from the journey makes her hesitate. She shakes her head slowly, declining the offering, but his gaze remains fixed on her, unwavering and intense.

“You have to try to at least gulp it. I know it´s hard, but I noticed we didn´t give you time to eat.”

She raises a delicate eyebrow. “There wasn´t time indeed… but nobody offered anyways…”

“Well, I´m offering now…”

She swallows nervously, her gaze darting towards the other guard, whose back remains turned. Leaning in cautiously, she opens her mouth to receive the small piece of bread he offers. As he extends his arm, the morsel lands gently on her lips, and a flicker of gratitude sparks in her eyes.

A simple act of kindness that feels like a gift from heaven.

Despite her queasiness, she savors the taste of sustenance, a fleeting moment of relief in the midst of her ordeal.

“Thank you…” Her voice sounds fragile, but the man has already turned away from her and towards the sea, as his comrade returns to his seat beside her and she understands. If he´s caught helping her, his brothers in arms won´t be too kind to his actions. She looks up again towards the immense crystal approaching, seeking for the star of Metia hidden behind the humongous reddish silhouette.

But the man on her right is not that empathic, as he chuckles at her, noticing her steel blue eyes looking at the crystal rather pensive.

“I see you´re quite eager to get to your destination, right? Huhuhu… I´ve heard how they treat your kind in Drake´s Breath.” He leans over her, his shoulder pressed against her as his foul breath hits her cheek. “They´ll teach you some manners, and treat you the way you deserve to be treated… whore.” Jill closes her eyes, receiving stoically the brunt of his words. “I just hope they leave us enough of you to entertain ourselves as well.”

The guard on her left moves and touches the other one on the arm, trying to get his attention away from her. “We´re here, Sir, do you want me to pull the ropes?”

The older guard scoffs. “Don´t dream of it, last time you left the boat wrongly tied, we almost lost our ride back. Let me be the one to do it.” He springs to his feet, snatching the rope from the boatman's outstretched hand, and Jill's gaze lingers on the younger guard, though he stubbornly avoids her eyes. Yet, she can't miss the subtle brush of his knee against hers, a silent acknowledgment to her thankfulness. A faint smile plays on her lips, as she quickly lowers her head.

She won´t be the one giving him away, the only person to be nice to her during all those many years in the Ironholm.

---------------------------

The ascend of the mountain is like a torture for her.

The oppressive heat emanating from the volcano is the first thing that strikes her. The rocks beneath her feet are scorching hot, and the air feels like a furnace, sweat beading on her brow and the rest of her body under the heavy dress. Her strength, already sapped by the magical handcuffs, wanes further as she climbs the endless staircase. With each step, her legs grow heavier, her breath shorter. She stumbles, her knees scraping against the rough stone, the tattered remnants of her pants offering little protection. As she falls again, the older guard's rough hand yanks her to her feet, his grip firm and unrelenting.

“Get up, you filth! You´re not expecting me to carry you all the way up, right?” He pushes her hard back against the stairs, making her scratch her knees once more, and this time, they bleed. And, this time as well, since she can´t stand up as fast as she should, the man screams at the top of his lungs. “C´mon you witch! Hurry!” He stomps his metallic boot over her back, this time drawing a scream from her.

The younger soldier, still hesitant, tries to intervene. “Sir! I-I don´t want to say anything about it but… I think I just saw one of the priests looking down at us from the top of the mountain. I´m… I’m starting to worry Father Imreann is growing desperate we haven´t get there yet.”

“Yes! I know! But this garbage…” he stomps his boot against her back once more, “won’t move!”

The guard gives a step further. “She looks heavy but, do you want me to take her upstairs while you tell Father Imreann of her disobedience? I´m sure he´ll be more than pleased to know that my superior has taken his time to explain to him why are we delaying, and instead of scolding us, he might congratulate us.”

The man stops in midair one last stomp against Jill at hearing the younger´s proposal.

“Yes, that´s a very good idea, but don´t delay much!”

As the older guard hurries up towards the top of the mountain, the younger guard takes her by the elbow and with his other arm he envelops her slim waist, pulling her up.

“T-thanks…”

But he hushes her immediately.

“Don´t talk… there are too many people around us that could hear you…” She lowers her head in obedience, but her determination burns brighter than ever. With renewed resolve, she forces her weary legs to climb higher, determined to minimize the burden on her captor. It's the least she can do, a small act of thankfulness in the face of her captivity.

After what feels like an eternity, she hears him speak again. "My name is Edvard, by the way..." She prepares to introduce herself, a flicker of hope igniting within her. But then, he abruptly releases her, her body lurching forward as her strength wanes. Before she can regain her balance, the older guard catches up with her and pushes her hard, sending her crashing to her knees. The rough rocks scrape against her skin, pain shooting through her knees as she narrowly avoids a face-first fall.

“Is this the Dominant?”

The guard that had pushed her nods at the robbed man in front of her, of whom she can only see his feet. “Yes, Father Imreann, she is the one who destroyed the general´s palace during her priming.”

Jill is doubled over, her forehead almost touching the scorching ground. The magical handcuffs drain her strength, her magic withering under their oppressive power. She gasps for breath, sweat pouring from every pore as the oppressive heat of the volcanic platform they´ve stepped in threatens to consume her. A woman of ice and snow, she is ill-equipped for this infernal trial.

But against all odds, she fights against the overwhelming urge to submit, her pride fueling her defiance. With a surge of strength, she slowly lifts her head, her steel-blue eyes locking onto Imreann's sinister figure as he circles her like a predator. Suddenly, without warning, he seizes her hair, yanking her head back with brutal force. She moans and yelps out of pain, her neck straining under the agonizing pull.

“So... you are Shiva's Dominant..." Imreann's voice drips with a mix of disgust and predatory pleasure as he leans in from behind her, his lips mere inches from her ear. Jill remains silent, blatantly ignoring him, her eyes fixed at the starts she still can see, her defiance palpable. He huffs, entertained by her resilience. "The whole Twins were wondering when Shiva's Dominant would appear, girl, in spite of the fall of the Northern Territories... and finally, thanks to the Mother Crystal, here you are, so alive and so..."

His free hand traces a line down her cheek, his caress an invasion. Jill still refuses to move, to even flinch at his unwelcomed touch, her labored breath the only proof she´s still alive. At her unresponsiveness, with a swift, powerful movement, he rips the fabric of her turtleneck, exposing her neck down to her cleavage, finally drawing a yelp from her. A cruel smile twists his lips as he revels in the sight of her naked, ivory skin, while she shivers at the sudden kiss of the air upon her dampened chest. But after long seconds of contemplating her flesh, and as if repulsed by his own actions, he abruptly pushes her forward, her forehead slamming mercilessly against the hard floor.

The older guard, entertained by the demonstration, still feels weary at the heat of the place as he, too, is sweating all over, so he speaks up again, hoping to be released of his duty.

“What do you want us to do, Father?”

Imreann leers at her prostrate form, his gaze a blend of cruelty and fascination while Jill moans softly, feeling dizzy and her head throbbing from the violent impact, blood tainting the rock underneath her. The priest feigns disgust, a mask to hide the dark pleasure that courses through him as he watches her suffer.

“Leave her with me, I´ll put my best generals to train her to fight.”

“How soon will we have her ready for war?”

Imreann sends the guard an intense glare. “As soon as the crystals decide it, my son. But tell your general it won´t be soon. I´ll need her here half the week, after that, you can come to take her back to the Ironholm.”

“Why not the whole week?”

His glare intensifies. “You don´t expect me to keep my elite forces completely focused on her, right? She´s a monster, doesn´t deserve that much attention.”

“But, Father, the Ironblood need…”

He slaps the tall man hard, making him turn his head to the side. “Don´t you dare speak to me like that! I said she won´t be staying with us longer than five days a week, and that´s final!”

Surprisingly, the tall man bows at the priest. “Y-yes… Father…”

Imreann, seemingly unfazed by his audacious act of striking a man who could crush him with his bare hands, turns to regard Jill´s still struggling form with a predatory gleam in his eyes. With a casual wave of his hand, he issues orders to the surrounding priests, his voice laced with authority.

“Take her to the bathing grounds. She´s filthy, we need to take all that lewdness, which represents her sinful life, off of her body if she´s to put her unworthy feet upon our sacred soil.”

The three priests bow low, their voices reverent as they respond in unison, "Yes, Father, immediately." Without hesitation, two of them take a dazed Jill by the elbows and carry her limp body away, their rough grip causing her pain, especially on her shoulders. Weakened by the fresh wound on her head and her drained state, she offers no resistance as they drag her towards the castle. The third priest turns to seek the High Priest's approval, his gaze filled with unquestioning obedience.

“Father, will you be joining us?”

Imreann´s smile is devilish. “Yes, certainly, when have I missed the cleansing of a soul?”

“Will you need the ceremonial knives?”

He looks at Jill´s retreating form and then shakes his head. “Not this time. We´ll need her alive for the training, and maybe we´ll have to be careful and make sure she keeps enough function of her arms and legs, as well as enough strength to train. The rest of the ceremony won´t change.”

The man bows low again. “Yes, Father.”

Imreann turns at the guards. “You can leave her in my hands and return in five days to take her to the Kingdom.” He sighs contentedly as he nods at them. “Well, if you´ll excuse me, I have a ceremony to partake. After all, this is a very special one: the first time we start the rites with a Dominant. And a very beautiful one at that…” He walks nonchalantly towards the path the other tree, dragging Jill, had taken, while the two guards look at each other, Edvard feeling his chest fill with dread.

“Do you think she´ll survive?”

His comrade hits him on the chest. “Why would you care? She´s an abomination! She can die in that rite for all I care!”

Edvard nods eagerly. “Y-yes! Yes, that´s what I meant! Let´s hope she does die after that. I was just… thinking that I did want a taste of her, and they say their rites…” He shudders at the thought.

In spite of himself, the taller guard nods. “Yes, I´ve heard as much too. But well, what is there to say? They´re less than humans, I´m sure their cleansing will make the Mother Crystal happy, right?”

“Right! Right!”

And with that, they both return their path towards the isles.

----------------------------

Startled awake by the nightmare, Jill blinks open her eyes, being met only by the enveloping darkness. A wave of disappointment washes over her as reality sets in. After her fierce battle against Titan, she had so much yearned for oblivion, for the darkness to claim her, but it seems fate had other plans.

At least, what she had was nothing more but one of her constant nightmares, the repetition of the memory of the first time Imreann had claimed her body, proclaiming that she was tainted by the demons, and forcibly performed on her the Purification Rituals. Nothing more than mere pretext to torture and... to ease their needs by preying on the weak.

“Damn bastard…”

As consciousness slowly returns, Jill blinks open her eyes to find herself resting in a worn, yet surprisingly comfortable bed. A small candle flickers on the nightstand, casting a soft glow over the unfamiliar room. She realizes she's in some sort of medical ward, judging by the numerous beds lining the walls.

As she tries to get out of the bed, a sudden, sharp pain shoots through her belly, eliciting an involuntary cry. Before she can react, a woman with fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes rushes to her side.

“Oh, fantastic! You´re awake!”

Jill struggles to sit up, her instincts urging her to defend herself at the sight of the stranger, and she braces herself, ready to unleash her magic against the woman. However, the intense pain in her abdomen and back hinders her movements, leaving her vulnerable, as she doubles over herself with a moan in her lips.

Not noticing the Dominant´s aggressive intention, or really not caring about it, the woman firmly pushes Jill back onto the bed, her touch surprisingly gentle despite her firm resolve.

"No, no! Don't do that! The wounds in your abdomen and back will open up again!" Tarja's voice is sharp, tinged with exasperation as she pleads with Jill to remain still. "And those are only the nastiest ones. Don't get me started on the less serious ones."

With a gentle but firm hand, Tarja guides Jill back onto the bed without finding much resistance. The younger woman can do little more than allow herself to be tended to, her body weak and aching. Once Jill is settled, the red-haired woman pulls up a chair and sits beside her.

"Jill, right? My name is Tarja. I'm the healer of the Hideaway, and I'm responsible for your recovery. Now, please tell me, besides this sudden display of recklessness that has left you in pain, how are you feeling today?"

Jill swallows, her throat dry and parched as acceptance settles over her. She can't complain about much, at least she's been taken care of.

“Where… are we?”

Tarja sighs and nods, understanding her anxiety.

“You are at the Hideaway, our home. And please don’t ask me more because, as the name implies, I really can´t tell you anything else.”

The Ice Dominant closes her eyes, exhaustion claiming her, but her need to know is more powerful. “How did I… get here?”

“How much do you remember?”

“N-not much…” Jill puts a hand upon her silk-like bangs, realizing now all the little and large pains around her body that make her moan with each little movement. Tarja leans over a little bit more.

“It´s okay, don´t strain yourself. You´ll be alright soon, I promise.”

But Jill shakes her head. She needs to know to, at least, see how she can escape in case she needs to. “Are we… in the Ironholm?”

Tarja scoffs. “Please, no! Certainly we´re not. You are among friends, Jill. Don´t worry, you are safe now, I can assure you you´re far away from those beasts and none of us will do anything against you. Any other question?”

At her words, Jill swallows hard.

Safe... and away from the Ironblood. An intense wave of relief washes over her, a surge of emotion so sudden that it catches her breath. The impossible dream has finally become reality... Choking back a sob, she shakes her head and steels her resolve. There is no time for sentimentality now. She must focus on the task at hand: gathering information.

“But… how…?”

Tarja smiles at her. “You were unconscious when Cid brought you with us, so your disorientation is understandable. He´ll be here soon to explain it all to you. Now, how do you feel?”

Jill nods slightly, hoping she´s telling the truth and moans again, the pain in her body too much to bear. “I´m… aching all over, now that you mention it. But tell me, how… how do you know my name?”

“The guy who came with you, Clive, I believe is his name, told us that.”

“C-Clive!?” At hearing the name, Jill straightens up fast, forgetting completely all about her exhaustion, but the pain is unbearable and she ends up doubling over herself.

“Stop it, Jill! You´re going to hurt yourself further!”

Jill moans at the ache in her wounds, and clenches her hands into fists, grasping the sheets tight as she shakes her head, pulling herself together. It has to be a mistake, it must be no more than a namesake…! She inhales deeply, searching for her strength. She can´t let herself lose composure now.

“How… how did he look? That man… Clive…” After all these years, even saying the name is painful for her. “The one you said… the one who brought me to you…”

Tarja puts two fingers on her chin. “Well… let me see… he´s wearing an imperial uniform, and he´s tall, I have to admit very handsome, with very wild black hair and dark blue eyes. Why? Isn´t he the one you thought it was? Was he lying about knowing you?”

Jill clenches her teeth as well, her heart running wild, afraid of believing again only to have her heart crushed. “But… but you´re describing the man who attacked me…”

Tarja crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes, he did mention he attacked you before recognizing you as his childhood friend, the girl that lived with him and his younger brother. But he also said that, as soon as he saw your face, he realized it was you and then decided to protect you…”

Jill can't hear her anymore. In a surge of adrenaline, she propels herself forward, half her body out of the bed and towards Tarja, disregarding the pain in her wounds. Her hands grip the red haired´s shoulders, her grip firm as she demands answers.

“Oh, for Metia! It is him! It´s Clive! Please, tell me where is he?! When can I see him?! I have to see him!!”

Tarja chuckles at Jill's frantic movements, misinterpreting her desperation as a mere infatuation with the handsome guy. With her hands over the delicate waist, and the patience of a saint, she steadies Jill, gently guiding her back to the bed and helping her to remain seated.

“Hold your horses there. You have to recover first so that you can get to see him.” She speaks soothingly at her while arranging the pillows, so that Jill won´t strain herself by her insistence of remaining straight.

“But… but why can´t he come? How did he find me?”

Tarja shrugs. “I´m really not sure on the how, but Cid said he had attacked you because he is, or rather was, an imperial assassin, tasked to kill you.”

Jill's eyes widen in shock, as a wave of sadness washes over her and she lowers her head. "Yes... There were a few assassination attempts against me from the Dhalmekians, and there was once an attack from the Imperials and the Waloed... but I never imagined Clive would become an assassin, and even less being tasked of ending my life..." Surrounding her body with both arms, she clutches herself tightly, her voice filled with sorrow. "Poor Clive... if he's the Clive I know, he must have suffered immensely."

“So, is he your childhood friend, then?”

Jill´s steel blue eyes are filled with so much hope that Tarja feels her own heart clenching. “The Clive I knew was my childhood friend, indeed. If the one who saved me is my Clive… Please, I beg you… when can I see him?”

Tarja leans over the chair and crosses her arms with an air of amusement. “I´m almost certain you shouldn´t worry about that. He went to Lostwing with Cid, they´ll be at it a couple of days, but no more. I´m sure we´ll have him here rushing to meet you as soon as he puts a foot on the Hideaway. Before departing, the guy had been pestering me a couple of times, much too eager to see you, in case you want to know… but you were so weak, I assume out of blood loss and malnutrition, you stayed unconscious for almost two days.”

“Two days!” She opens her eyes wide in disbelief. “I´ve… I’ve never passed out more than a day…!”

The Physicker tries to hide the surprise and sadness at such confession. “Well, you had many wounds on you, plus rumor has it you battled Titan right before battling the imperial assassins. Everyone here is surprised by your resilience, you know? And…” Tarja sighs, her eyes becoming sad. “I´m sorry to deliver this, but the curse has taken a good part of your elbow and forearm. All of those are reason enough to have you all disconnected for such a long period of time. Your body needed to heal.”

Jill sighs, her shoulders slumping as she finally lets exhaustion catch up with her, both physical and emotional. The brutal battle with Titan had taken its toll indeed, leaving her weakened and vulnerable, unable to defend herself properly when Clive... turned his blade against her, attempting to end her life.

Tarja puts a hand upon her shoulder, catching up on her sadness. “Relax, beautiful.. As I said before, I´m almost certain that, as soon as he gets here, he´ll rush immediately to check on you. He´s been buggering me with info about your health ever since you two came.”

A small smile is drawn upon her features. “He was… he was worried about me?”

“Of course he was! I had never needed to kick someone out of here as many times I had to do him. So yeah, I´m pretty sure he´s excited to see you as well.”

She lowers her head, her hands grasping the sheets covering her lap. “Clive is alive… and… and he came for me…” Jill bends a little bit more over herself as, finally, she allows tears form in her eyes. And this time, she doesn´t stop them, letting them roll freely upon her cheeks. The moment Tarja sees delicate shoulders trembling, she sits beside the young woman and surrounds the shaking body with one arm, letting her head rest on her shoulder, not caring the flow of tears dampen her dress.

“It´s okay, Jill. He´ll return to you soon, and you´ll both have your fantastic reunion.”

But Jill's attention drifts away. Burying her face in Tarja's shoulder, she´s letting herself weep for the stolen years of her youth, the pain and suffering she endured, and the impossible miracle of seeing Clive again, of gazing into those midnight eyes she once loved so dearly. The thought that he had kept his promise fills her with an overwhelming sense of relief and joy.

“You were right about him, Marleigh…” She mumbles against Tarja, her hands grasping the fabric of the woman´s dress tighter. “You were always right…”

Chapter Text

“Uff!!”

Jill falls on the mud face first, the sword on her hand flying away from her grasp.

“C´mon, monster!” The man in front of her, General Sören, if she recalls correctly, screams louder, his voice dripping anger and disgust as he brandishes his own wooden sword. “They say you´re Shiva´s Dominant… Is that all the supposedly divine Eikon got? Don´t make me laugh… Get up and fight!”

Jill raises her face from the mud, spitting blood from her broken lip, tears of pain and anger drawing dark lines upon her rosy cheeks, her brows furrowed at the tainting of the man. Sustaining her weight with both elbows, she lowers her head in sorrow, but the sudden burn in her back, matched with the whipping sound that breaks the air, makes her arch backwards and scream with all her might, hurting her throat.

“Aaaaarrgghhh!!”

The whip dances once more and draws another wail from her.

“Get up, I said! We are not done yet and you need to learn how to fight by the end of the day!”

The streams of tears fall freely now, but in the midst of her trembling body, of the blood she can feel trickling warmly down her torn back, she glares at the towering figure before her. His dark eyes, looming above her delicate frame, hold a terrifying intensity.

But she's growing weary of his mistreatment, of his cruelty toward her and everyone else. She resents the way he treats her like a mere doll, a stupid plaything. Someone far less than a human being.

She has to stop him, some way or the other.

The man chuckles at her eyes full of hate. “What now? Didn´t you like it?” He takes the whip and, with two fingers, cleanses her blood from it, his smile growing wider and more devilish. “Then come here and do something.” He moves his hand again, and the whip dances towards her. Jill covers her head and hides it on the floor, but immediately recoils backwards, as the whip opens her flesh once more and she screams at the top of her lungs. Screams for Clive to come for her. Screams for Shiva to save her.

But no matter how much she pleads. Clive is probably dead and the magnificent Shiva won´t come out of Jill´s heart to save her weak, unworthy vessel…

Hearing her sob, Sören laughs at her so loudly, the men around the arena follow his lead, the echo of their laughter hitting her chest.

"How do you, Father Imreann, pretend me to teach this pathetic girl to fight, when not even Shiva would accept such a crying baby?" He opens his arms to the side as he walks towards her. "But, you know? Now I'm the one interested in you bringing Shiva to us, girl. What do I have to do to you to make her come out to play?" He sends another whip her way, and Jill yelps, tears falling from her eyes. But the man doesn't feel any empathy for her.

"Word has it she's a lot more beautiful than you, a lot more feminine." The general walks around Jill's trembling form, mocking now the Eikon residing within her. "If all those things are true, then I want to have my way with her, just as I did with you..." He laughs even more and kicks her in the ribs, the young woman grunting and growling, but doesn't move.

Frustrated, he spits at her. "You are such a pathetic vessel... I'm sure as pathetic as the Eikon you represent..." He kneels in front of her face, using the handle of the whip to force her chin up. "Bring Shiva to me, let me show her what a true man does." But Jill doesn't respond, merely glaring at him with those puffy red, teary eyes. He huffs and laughs, releasing her as he stands up. Jill pants, pain shooting through her body.

No. She can´t bring Shiva into this. She won´t give them her Eikon to torture. She won´t give them the only strength that would help her come out of this hellhole. She can´t let these horrible men do to the revered goddess of her lands the same thing they did to her.

She won´t let that happen.

Jill shakes her head, cleans her tears and the blood in her lips with the back of her hand as she pushes herself to move, trembling legs forcing her body to stand up and giving a step forward to grasp the wooden sword they use to practice, now laying in the dirty floor. The man smirks at her as he fastens on his belt the whip he had been using on her.

“Yes… c´mon, you freak, show me what you´ve got. This torture won´t be over until you learn at least to avoid a hit from me.”

She glares at him, her eyes burning with fury. But her glare only fuels his amusement. He chuckles mockingly, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure, making her fury mix with her fear and fueling both with churning intensity. With a bloodcurdling yell, she lunges at him, her sword raised high. He sidesteps her attack with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Then, with a swift motion, he strikes, his wooden sword connecting with her already injured back. She stumbles forward, pain shooting through her body, before crashing to the ground. The man stands over her, his weapon poised, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

“What a disappointment you are… Get up! We´re not done here!” He makes the whip strike the air and Jill recoils out of fear, forcing her body up again. With hesitant moves, she takes the sword with both hands and readies the same attack, propelling herself forward, slashing down at the man one more time, but again he moves and kicks her in the back, sending her crashing to the floor once more.

This time, though, the man moves swiftly, reaching her side before she can fully rise. Kneeling, he grasps with both hands her left wrist and elbow, his grip firm and cold. With a deliberate tug, he forces her arm towards him, causing her to cry out in pain as her joints protest the unnatural movement.

“One of the mistakes in your battle moves I´ve noticed is that you rely too much in taking the sword with both hands. Here´s my first lesson to you, monster. Learn to wield your sword single handedly.”

Jill forces her neck enough to turn and look at him, her eyes watery. “P-please… no more…” She doesn´t know she’s begging him to let her go... Or to kill her.

But the man only chuckles at her. “What? Are you thinking you can convince me with those deer eyes and false tears? You should know better, filth.” With a swift, rapid pull of her wrist, he moves her arm in an impossible angle, and the deafening sound of her bone breaking is met only by Jill´s intense scream that makes her throat on fire.

The general stands up, laughing at his handiwork. “Now! Stand up, beast! You´ll have to fight me and learn to do it single handed!”

Jill lies prone upon the ground, her tears dampening the dirt underneath her, and at his prompting she tries to get up. For Metia! She truly tries! But the pain is so exquisite, she can´t dare to even move, let alone stand up and fight.

“Oh, by the Mother Crystal!” The general yells at her immobile form, while throwing his arms upon the air, having lost his patience. “I´m sick of this!! I am a general and you are such a pathetic monster! Why do I have to do this?? How in the world am I supposed to obey Father Imreann to teach you?!” He spits at her and takes the whip again, using it three times now, discharging upon her the frustration and humiliation that is for him the order to train her, and Jill feels her body being torn in flames. “You have to stand up now! Either that, or I´ll kill you here and now!”

She lowers her head, wishing it would be the latter, as she receives the three impacts.

Sweating, the man growls at his subordinate. “Fine then, have it your way! Take her to the soldier´s barracks! I´m sure she´s more useful there than here.”

Jill's eyes widen in terror. "No!" she cries. "I can't go back there!” The terror is so intense, she forces her damaged body to rise, suppressing the pain that shoots through her. With a low growl, she slowly, agonizingly slowly, stands on trembling legs, her injured arm pressed against her side as a silly and naïve attempt to help with the hurt, while a single, shaking hand clutches the sword.

The man snickers at her pitiful display of courage. “Well, well… and here I thought you had learned to cherish my soldiers´ love. Huhuhu… okay then, if you don´t want to return to their beds, then defeat me, or it´d be me the one taking care of you tonight…”

Jill snarls and lunges, fueled by a desperate fury. She's determined to give it her all, driven by a deep-seated disgust at the idea of being touched by these repulsive men.

Or by any other man, for what is worth…

----------------------

“Clive?”

“Mmmh?” Clive barely answers her, much too distracted, and it takes him some time to focus his eyes on hers. “Oh! Did you ask me something?”

Jill sighs, her eyes filling with sadness. “Are you…?” But she stops the question, knowing that voicing her concern about him so frequently might just put him on edge. “Nothing really, I was just marveling of the smell of the grass. It brings me a lot of memories.”

Finally, there´s a small smile forming on his lips. “Yes, you´re right…” But that´s everything he says, and she loses him again to his memories.

Walking down the swampy paths of their childhood, Jill and Clive stride towards Martha´s Rest in their trek to Phoenix’s Gate, their travel filled within a heavy silence. As they approach the place where their nightmares began, their hearts race with a mix of anticipation and dread. Clive, who lived through the horrific Night of the Flames, carries a heavier burden, a weight that Jill understands and respects. She silently vows to stand by him, to share his burden, to be his strength.

Especially now that she´s grown strong enough now to protect him.

That's why, when a group of goblins suddenly appears in front of them to defend their territory, Jill is the first to react. With a swift flick of her wrist, crystalline blades materialize, striking the enemy´s first wave with deadly precision. The sheer beauty and power of her magic leaves Clive awestruck, a low whistle escaping his lips.

“I was sure every Dominant has to learn how to fight. But I must admit, you impress me with your reflexes.”

Jill smiles sweetly at him, yet her smile is tainted with a tinge of sadness and pain. "Well, yes, my personal trainer certainly took a lot of effort and dedication for the development of my battle skills, pushing me to my limits and beyond..." Glad that Clive didn´t get the sarcasm in her voice, she walks towards him and, much like Clive´s father, softly hits him in the chest with her hand closed in a fist, in the exact spot where his heart beats. “Instead, I´m sorry I have to say this but I´m quite disappointed by Rosaria´s best Shield, what with that delayed reaction of yours.”

Clive blushes intensely as he scratches the back of his head with nervousness. “Well… I… I guess a do deserve that.” He stammers, but when he sees her lips drawing a playful smirk, he chuckles at her taunting, accepting stoically the criticism, when an enormous Gigas appears right behind the next wave of goblins. "Then it's my turn to show my level of expertise, it seems," he drawls as he walks determinedly to face the fiend, a smug grin spreading across his face.

Jill shakes her head, one hand upon her hip, as a grin is drawn across her lips. “Yes, I believe it is.”

As he saunters towards the beast, he turns to face her completely, walking backward with an air of confidence. "I'll prove to you, my Lady, I´m still worthy of your admiration." He says, making Jill giggle at his antics, one hand covering her rosy lips, and he can´t help but feel a surge of satisfaction when his words elicit such feminine sound.

As he turns around to face his enemy, a surge of adrenaline courses through Clive, his body driven into a battle-ready stance. His eyes narrow, a defiant glint in his gaze while, with a swift motion, he unsheathes his massive sword and charges towards the beast. Dodging the creature's lumbering club, he strikes with deadly precision, a pained roar erupting from the beast.

For her part, Jill too dances and swivels around the second horde of goblins, a whirlwind of grace and deadly precision. But, amidst the chaos of battle, she steals a glance at Clive, and a warm smile spreads across her face as she watches her best friend fight. His long strides are filled with power, each strike imbued with the fiery essence of the Phoenix, flares dancing around him as a beacon of supremacy and hope, the waves of flames warming her body even when she´s rather far from him. She has to recognize each part of Clive´s body has become a deadly and magnificent weapon, as he wields his power as if he were a prince, or even a king.

A smile of pride is drawn upon rosy lips. Clive has grown so strong… has become such a formidable warrior indeed, no longer the awkward boy she once knew. But she also notices something else.

His physique has filled out as well, his shoulders broader, his arms and legs corded with muscle. Jill can only imagine the strength hidden beneath his clothes and armor, can easily remember how those strong arms had enveloped her lithe body…

A blush creeps across her face as she recalls his embrace during their touching reunion, and recalls, too, glimpses she's caught of his perfectly sculpted chest in this new outfit Lady Hannah provided...

She quickly shakes her head, determined to banish such thoughts from her mind.

But she doesn't have time to dwell on such things as the monstrous Gigas swings its enormous club at her, trying to take her by surprise and evidently aiming to crush her, yet she doesn´t worry much. With a nimble leap, she dodges the attack, her movements as graceful as a dancer, a stark contrast to the beast´s brute force.

Clive, growing angry at the traitorous attack directed at her, unleashes a torrent of flames, sending the beast crashing to the ground. Without waiting for the Gigas to fall on the ground, he strides towards her, his midnight eyes filled with anxiety and concern.

“Are you okay, Jill?”

A delicate eyebrow rises at the question, but the truth is, she can´t be offended by his concern, not really, for she knows he´s not asking with thoughts of a lack of capabilities. He´s sincerely concerned about her well-being.

With a delicate hand, she brushes her bangs aside, her eyes locking onto his. "Yes, Clive, don't worry. Maybe it's surprising for you, but I learned how to fight, too." A smile spreads across her face as she sees the familiar tenderness in his gaze. His eyes, always a mix of kindness and strength, make her know he's still the same sweet guy her teenage self had a crush on.

At her words of reassurance, his smile grows wide, though he falls suddenly distracted by the tantalizing movement of her hand.

“I´m… I´m glad… you´re okay…”

Jill is about to speak further but she senses a group of huge scorpions closing in, most surely attracted by the meal they´ve just served. She glances at Clive through her lashes, a defiant spark in her eyes.

“My turn, then?” She sends his way a playful smirk while taking the lead in the attack. However, her daring gaze has the opposite effect on the poor branded, who remains rooted to the spot, mesmerized by her graceful and precise movements.

He watches in awe as she effortlessly dodges and weaves through the enemy, her slender figure a blur of motion. Her every move is a dance, a fluid and elegant display of skill and power, the magic of her movements enhanced by the tiny crystals her magic produces, breaking the light around her and making him believe she´s dancing inside a rainbow. With each strike of her rapier or each blast of ice magic, her blue-gray hair, tied in a loose knot, flows behind her as she moves with the grace of a dancer, the loose strands whipping around her face, while her feet barely touch the ground, her body seemingly weightless as she glides across the battlefield. Her movements are ethereal, as if she's floating above the ground, reminiscent of the elegant dances they witnessed together in his father's castle.

With his heart pounding wildly against his ribs, he realizes he had never thought someone could look so beautiful while killing a group of beasts.

Clive can do nothing but just stare at her, completely spellbound… until it´s Jill the one to notice that, while distracted, Clive hasn´t noticed the Gigas is getting up right behind him, the last of its strength directed at his unprotected back.

“Clive! Watch out!”

“W-what…?”

She launches herself at him, shoving him off with her shoulder while she sends a powerful ice blast against the fiend. But her attack can´t stop the inertia of the Gigas´s club and, at the exact moment her power hits the beast, its weapon finds her left leg as she and Clive fall together onto the grass.

“Aaargh!!”

“Jill!”

Clive lets his back hit the ground first, while his arms surround Jill´s body in a protective gesture and, from his position underneath her, notices the Gigas is trying to release itself from its frozen prison. Softly, he disentangles himself from her body, leaving her grunting on the ground, both hands clutching her injured leg tightly, and steps in front of her, protecting her with his body.

“Fiend! I´ll make you pay for this!” Feeling absolute rage fueling his fists, he sends a powerful Hellfire attack with a single hand, which ends the monster definitely, and then turns around, falling on his knees beside her, his attention completely focused to the injured woman.

“What happened?”

Jill hisses at the pain as she holds her leg with both arms, growling at him. “M-my leg…”

With gentle hands, he pries her fingers loose from the injured limb, his touch careful yet firm, and his expression hardens at the sight of the gaping wound. As he peels further away the tattered cloth, Jill's breath hitches at the involuntary movement, a low moan escaping her lips.

“I-I rather you don´t…”

“Trust me, Jill. I know what I´m doing.”

Hissing still, she dares him with the raising of a thin eyebrow. “Do you?”

He sends her a smirk while working on her trouser. Taking a piece of cloth from his satchel, he damps it with the water from his canteen, and softly and with utmost care cleanses Jill´s leg from all the blood around, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

“I´ve been an assassin for thirteen years, remember? I know my stuff.”

At that moment, Torgal, - who had been evidently battling some floral enemies, if the pieces of plants on his snout are any indication - approaches Jill, whimpering as if in empathy for her pain and trying to lick her, but Jill pushes him away, the pushing of his enormous body making her leg move and ache even more, forcing a yelp from her lips.

“Agh! Torgal! Please don´t!”

“Torgal!” Without taking his hands off of Jill´s ripped cloth and still working on her, Clive yells at the enormous pet, making him whine even more. Jill, hissing, still feels for her adored and furry partner and pats him lovingly.

“It´s okay, boy. Just… just be careful…”

Torgal, sensing her pain, lets out a low bark and approaches Jill´s injured leg. A soft glow emanates from his ears as he focuses his healing magic on her wound. A sigh of relief escapes her lips as the pain subsides if only a tad, though still lingers an intense ache that won´t go away. Yet, leaning back, she presses her palms to the ground while stretching her neck backwards, sighing deeply and finding at least a moment of respite.

Clive, noticing her continued suffering causes the enormous pet to whimper, - and trying not to stare at the sight of the soft, tantalizing skin of her neck, - offers Torgal a reassuring pat.

“You´re such a good boy. Don´t worry, we´ll make sure she gets better.”

Torgal barks and returns to Jill´s side, licking her face and she giggles, but then hisses at the pushing of the enormous hound, making both friends yell at him in unison.

“Torgal!!”

Torgal whimpers again, his large form slumping behind Jill as if offering himself as a shield. She smiles warmly at him and leans against his side, finding comfort in his warmth. Clive, however, maintains a wary gaze, his eyes fixed on the suffering woman who, oblivious to his concern, enjoys the gentle warmth radiating from Torgal's massive frame, the wolf's heat soothing her aching muscles and easing the tension in her body. She reaches out to strike his fur, her touch gentle and comforting.

Clive shakes his head at Torgal´s protective attitude, but smiles too, seeing with glee those two haven´t lost their closeness, even after more than a decade of separation.

“I wonder why Torgal´s magic didn´t heal you completely…”

“Maybe because it´s broken?”

Clive leans in further, the sight of her skin limited by the remnants of blood and her pants. “No… I think it´s not broken.”

“It certainly feels like it.”

Clive raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Have you ever had a broken bone?”

She glares at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. He chuckles, charmed by the grace embed in such a scolding stare, thinking that only Jill could manage such a feat with quite an effortless elegance. But his smile fades as he discovers a deep wound, likely caused by a splinter from the Gigas's club. Her body trembles beneath his touch, and he realizes the pain she must be enduring. To distract her, he speaks to her while continues to clean the wound, his voice gentle and soothing.

“Well, I´m sorry of going against your thoughts, but besides the wound, I don´t see anything else that would suggest it.”

“Besides my suffering?”

He chuckles and looks at her adorable, childish smirk. “I would never dare to put in doubt your suffering, my Lady. Fortunately for you, I have exactly what you need.” He takes a bottle of potion from his satchel and pours a little upon the wound. At the contact of the cold liquid against her sensitive injury, Jill hisses and moans, her hand grasping tightly the grass beside her. Trembling, but once the pain has become tolerable, she manages to send him a smirk at his actions.

"I would think your… 'thing…' is killing people, not healing them."

“Well, while that is true, they had to teach us how to treat lesser wounds, and how to stabilize a severely wounded comrade. After all, anything could happen in the heat of the battle, and we needed to be prepared.”

She nods and sighs, sinking deeper into Torgal's warm fur. "I know exactly what you mean… I had to learn to survive on my own, to heal my own wounds. At Drake´s Breath, there was rarely anyone around me willing to help… not after a battle, and certainly not after a mere training spar."

Clive looks at her with sadness in his eyes. “I´m sorry to hear that. It must´ve been hard.”

Jill shakes her head, her steel blue eyes returning to him. “No more than what it must´ve been for you… branded and all…”

He shrugs, his eyes returning to her wound. “It wasn´t that bad…” Jill raises a delicate eyebrow, but since he doesn´t elaborate, which she can totally relate to, she decides to change the subject.

“You were distracted a moment ago. The Shield I used to know would never leave his back unattended. If I recall correctly Sir Rodney´s teachings always reminded you of that, up until you would roll your eyes when he wasn´t looking.” Jill giggles at his low growl but, when she shakes his head again, refusing to speak, she can notice a tinge of pink upon his cheeks, and grows even more curious. “Clive… please, tell me. What were you thinking that got you so fed up to make you forget about your safety?

He looks up at her again. “Why would that be important?”

She glares softly at the childish tone of his voice. “Because I need to know what am I going to do to prevent it. I really don´t want you to get hurt, nor me, trying to protect you, just like right now.”

His face falls in sadness, as his eyes become apologetic. “You are right, it should´ve been me the one protecting you.”

She leans forward, her hand connecting with his arm in a sharp slap. "Lord Clive Rosfield!" she demands, her voice cutting through the air, and, leaning in closer, she locks eyes with him, her steel-blue gaze intense and unwavering. "Stop being a pain and hear me out! In case you haven't noticed, I'm no longer the little girl you once knew. I am a Dominant, a warrior in my own right. So, stop treating me like a child. I'm capable of fighting by your side, and I'll protect you just as fiercely as you protect me."

Stunned by her words, Clive is momentarily speechless. His gaze, fixed on her, is filled with a mix of surprise and admiration. Torgal's soft whimpering breaks the silence, snapping Clive out of his reverie.

“Yes, I… I did notice you´re not twelve anymore…” His smile is enigmatic, but Jill doesn´t interrupt him, as she lets her back rest against Torgal´s soft fur. After a moment, Clive inhales deeply and raises his eyes to meet hers, midnight blue this time looking intently at her steel blue. “That was the problem, Jill. I grew distracted because… because I noticed you´re a full-grown woman. You…” But, as if suddenly losing his bravery, he lowers his eyes again, his blush intensifying. Before she can ask him further, he pats her leg. “Well, it seems it´s all done. I don´t see any injury anymore. How do you feel?”

Jill opens her eyes wide, realizing the worst of the pain indeed is gone, and then moves her leg, trying to have a feel of it. “Actually… rather good…”

“See? Not broken.”

She smiles at him. “Thank you very much Clive. I promise I´ll let Tarja know she has to be careful, for she´s got very serious competition in you.”

This time he laughs out loud. “Please don´t! I´ve seen how she treats poor Rodrigue!”

She giggles. “Fine, but my silence won´t be cheap.” She stands up, eager to return to their trek, but Clive takes her by the wrist, pulling her down and preventing her from moving further. She raises a delicate eyebrow once more. “Clive?”

His smile is wide. “Please, stay with me. Let´s take advantage that we´ve just cleaned the area of fiends. We still have to see what happens at Martha´s Rest, and Phoenix´s Gate is not too far from here. Besides, it seems to me Torgal seems very hungry.”

The humongous pet, hearing his name, barks as if in agreement and moves his tail, but refuses to move from his comfy position.

“You´re such a traitor, Torgal…” Jill smirks at the hound, who whines, golden apologetic eyes looking at her… but he still refuses to move.

Clive chuckles at him and implores her again. “See? Please, Jill, stay with us, I… I could get distracted once more if I´m hungry…”

She giggles at that, recognizing in this handsome man the sweetness and silliness of her childhood friend, and finally decides to comply, sitting right by his side.

“Fine, but only because I´m hungry too.”

Clive's gaze is drawn to her every elegant movement, his eyes tracing the graceful lines of her body as she settles upon the spot next to him. A slow smile spreads across his face as he leans in, his knee brushing against hers in what he claims is an accident.

“And now, will you tell me why were you distracted? I feel like you´re hiding something from me.”

He chuckles at her insistence. “I didn´t know you were such a curious cat… why do you want to know?”

But this time Jill is not giggling. "Because if there's anything I can do to ease your pain, to make you stronger, I'm here for you."

Clive feels touched by her sincerity, and smiles widely at her. “Thank you, Jill. Believe me, by merely being here you help me a lot. Without you, I wouldn´t have the strength to come all this way.” He sighs heavily and nods, her sincere words giving him a piece of her strength. “If you must know… as I said before, it was you who distracted me, my Lady.”

“Oh? How come?”

She raises a delicate eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. Yet, beneath her composed exterior, a flutter of nerves stirs within her. The idea of being his source of distraction, especially when paired with the low, masculine timbre of his voice as he speaks her title of nobility, sends a peculiar warmth through her.

He, too, has a hard time maintaining her gaze. Her eyes, pools of liquid steel, bore into his soul, and he can't bring himself to speak. With a nervous harrumph, he averts his gaze, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Because… because you´re very skillful, it´s impressive the way you handle the sword, not to mention Shiva´s power.”

Jill is startled by the sudden compliment and, unavoidably, blushes intensely.

“Emh… uh… well… thank you?”

"Your... your welcome," he stammers, forcing a smile. Trying to mask his discomfort, he searches in his satchel and takes out the frugal meal a worried Lady Hannah had provided for them, seen their ‘famished state’, as she put it. He offers her one of the sandwiches and takes a bite of his own, opening his eyes wide. “Oh! By the Founders! I can remember myself eating this as a child!”

Jill's smile mirrors his own, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "You're absolutely right!" she exclaims, her voice filled with nostalgia. "I remember how you'd sneak a few of Lady Hannah's delicious sandwiches to the castle, claiming you'd saved them for me, until I was finally taken to meet her."

“Yes, I remember you saying this was so delicious, it had to be done by fairies… and remember your eyes full of disappointment when you met Lady Hannah, who happened to be a mere human.”

Jill giggles at that, her fingers covering her lips. “Oh, for Metia! Don´t remind me! It was so embarrassing!”

They share a lighthearted laugh, the tension of the moment dissipating. As they settle into a comfortable silence, the delicious food becomes a welcome distraction. But as the quiet lingers, a wave of self-doubt washes over him. He can't believe he let his fear get the better of him. It would seem that facing a monstrous Eikon is easier than facing Jill's beautiful, understanding eyes.

Stealing a glance at her, Clive sighs deeply. “Say… Jill… did you… did you say your proper goodbyes to everyone at the Hideaway?”

A delicate eyebrow rises at the steering of the conversation, but decides not to push him, so she merely nods.

“Well… it´s not that I met too many people there, since I spent most of my time in the infirmary. But yes,” she leans against Torgal once more. “I promised Tarja I would visit her to bring some Rosaria plants that would help make more medicine for her patients. Also thanked Molly and Kenneth for all their delicious meals.” She giggles a bit, as she caresses Torgal´s delicious fur. “And even went to see Lady Caron, though she practically growled at me for that. She asked me we took good care of Torgal, and that, in spite of all the money she spent on his enormous belly, she confessed she had learned to care for him.” The wolf barks as if in agreement and returns to his position, his enormous head resting upon the pawns. “Why?”

Clive can´t help but blush softly as he looks down his boots, his fingers suddenly too preoccupied by a loose thread in his pants. But he forces himself to man up. The least he can do is give her a sincere attempt at bravery.

“Well, it was precisely Lady Caron who asked me to… to take care… of you… and I guessed that, by that she meant…” His blush deepens. By the Founders! Why is he behaving like a silly teenager all over again?!

The Dominant of ice opens her eyes wide. “Did… did they assume we were leaving because you and I…?”

He gulps. Just like her, he´s having a hard time accepting their rough guess. “I… I believe they did…”

Jill blushes prettily at the innuendo behind their good wishes, but then her eyes become sad and she sighs, shaking her head. “It´d be a beautiful dream, Clive, believe me it would be one that I would love to become true.” One she had desired so much to share with him, once… “But I believe we have a few issues to solve first and foremost, a mystery to discover. Once it´s done, and only then, can we think of what would be of our lives. I believe this moment would be much too soon to plan something in advance, and just thinking about it could… guide us astray from our path.”

Clive's eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face. He had never imagined their thoughts could be so perfectly aligned. He tries to mask his relief, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he studies her reaction.

“I´m sorry Jill… I… I had assumed you wanted us to…”

She coughs, her voice a mere whisper. "Well... no... I'm sorry, but I hadn't given it a thought... don't believe that I don't want to!" Her eyes, wide with fear, plead with him for understanding. "But... I-I really believe we should take one step at a time. If... that is okay with you..."

He smiles widely at her. Yes, he first has to find out about this other Dominant of fire. Her wise resolve, matching his own, eases the stress upon his shoulders. But after everything is over… Well…

“I agree with you, Jill. We still have a long road ahead of us, and neither of us know what will happen in the near future. Let´s take one step at a time.”

She smiles too, eased to know he didn´t take her refusal as a personal attack. As it´s happened to her before. “Yes, Clive. One step at a time.”

Clive nods at her and throws a piece of meat to Torgal, finishing their conversation and chuckling at the ease with which the enormous wolf catches the meat without much difficulty, in spite of Jill´s body resting upon him.

Jill giggles, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she too watches Torgal's playful antics. Leaning back against his warm fur, she takes a bite of her own sandwich, her gaze drifting to the endless blue sky. A sense of peace washes over her as she reflects on her journey, grateful that years of suffering seem to have finally come to an end, and for the chance to reunite with the boy who had once captured her heart.

And grateful for the dream he has just planted in her heart.

Chapter Text

“What? Why me? Why don´t you send someone else?” The woman protests loudly at the all too sudden decision.

The matron of the kitchen growls at her. “Because I said so, Inga. The Dominant just arrived from Mount Drustanus, and someone needs to go down and feed her. Otherwise, she could die of starvation, and that would not please Father Imreann. Nor the King.”

Inga growls. “I still don´t see why it has to be me.”

“Because you´re the one who knows the place better than anyone around here, Inga, and because…”

“Because I want you to take me to see this Dominant everyone is talking about.” A woman on her late thirties suddenly enters the kitchen, followed by a couple of women trailing behind her. The people inside the kitchen bow at her.

“Lady Marleigh… I really wouldn´t advise…” The matron bows, addressing her.

“It´s okay, Gunhild. Inga will take me to see this girl, wouldn´t you?”

Inga lowers her head in submission but growls. “But my Lady… the girl is dangerous, she´s a Dominant! And worse, she´s the Ironblood´s prisoner. She doesn´t deserve the visit of someone as high ranking as you. Not even your husband, the Hertug, has gone down to see her.”

Marleigh winks at the woman and takes her by the arm, giggling. “I know, but… they said she used to work in this castle, previous to her selling to Greve Meregh. I´m really, really curious as to see who she is! Can you imagine it? I was living beside a terrible Dominant all along!”

Inga rolls her eyes and liberates her arm, proceeding to take the tray with food, though still manages to smile, all too accustomed of her mistress wild adventures.

“You are impossible, my Lady. Aren´t you afraid of her? She killed Lord Meregh! Besides, I really don´t think you ever saw her while she lived in this castle.”

Marleigh sends a nod at her maids and they bow and leave her there. It´s obvious Marleigh´s intrusion to the kitchen isn´t weird at all for them. Nor for everyone.

“If she´s from Rosaria, I´m pretty sure I must´ve seen her, at least once, and you most surely would know her.”

Inga shrugs as she walks determinedly towards the stairs, Marleigh glued to her side, not caring about the eyes that follow their conversation.

“I don’t know anyone from my homeland who was a Dominant. Why this sudden interest?”

“Aren´t you curious?”

“No, I´m more afraid of her than curious. People say her eyes and her face changed after her first priming, that she looks horrifying…”

Marleigh huffs audibly. “Please! Really? If she´s Shiva´s Dominant, I´m sure she must be beautiful. According to the Cosmogony books, Shiva is the prettiest Eikon of the Eight.”

“Well, in any case, she must not be beautiful anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Inga deviates her eyes from her superior, and just sighs. “Can you imagine an ice Eikon living in mount Drustanus half the week? I´m sure her powers are obliterated with all the heat of the volcano, and I´ve heard she´s being tortured by the Crystalline Orthodox, as the demon she is…”

Marleigh´s eyes sadden. “Poor girl… The mere heat would be a torture for her, why go all these extremes?” She shakes her head. “If my mother was a bad person, these Crystalline Orthodox are even worse!”

Inga hushes her immediately. “Please, Lady Marleigh! We´ll be punished by such blasphemy!” She then sighs, understanding the woman´s feelings. “Fine then, we´ll go to see if she´s someone you saw in the palace, and maybe see if she needs help, but nothing more than that, okay? We´ll go, leave the tray in the floor, check on her and run back up. Is that okay?”

“What if I order you to linger with me inside her cell?”

“Then I´d run up the stairs and leave you all alone with her.”

Marleigh hits the woman in the ribs, though lightly. “Oh, c´mon! Don´t be so rude! I wanna see her! And maybe talk to her.”

Inga sighs heavily. “Forgive me for saying this, my Lady, but I just don´t know why are you still behaving like a child. Didn´t your husband, Lord Thorfinn, teach you how to be a proper lady?”

Marleigh rolls her eyes. “He´s my husband, Inga, not my father. Besides, it´s not like he disapproves of my wanting to help in the kitchen.”

Inga chuckles. “Yeah… I know. It´s just… I´m happy you got married to a good man like him.”

“Yes, fortunately for me, Thorfinn is not like other noblemen. Maybe that´s why I love him so much?” She smiles widely and Inga returns the gesture. Yes, Marleigh is a very lucky princess, not like the one she met once.

Inga sighs and accepts, following the path towards the dungeons. Careful with the tray, both women walk down towards the deepest part of the castle, the air around them becoming even colder and more humid with every step, sending shivers down their spines in spite of the thick clothing they´re wearing.

“Say, my Lady. Aren´t you worried Lord Thorfinn could get in trouble for letting you treat bearers and prisoners differently from the rest of the noble houses?”

Marleigh shrugs. “I don´t think so. Thorfinn is a very smart man. Besides, he always admired Lord Rosfield and his ideas of creating a better place for everyone to live in.”

Inga smiles sadly, feeling fondness for her homeland. “Yes, Lord Rosfield and his children were always good lords, he always took care of everyone in his land, and his children followed his example. It was so terrible what happened to them all.”

Marleigh opens his eyes wide. “Oh, Inga! I´m sorry! It wasn´t my intention to make you feel sad!”

She shakes her head and gives her a small smile. “Don´t worry, lady Marleigh. What´s done is done and there´s nothing we can do to change it. We only go through with life. I´m just sorry for those poor souls that didn´t make it.”

“Yes, I bet. Do you know what happened to his children?”

A somber expression clouds Inga's face. "No, the boys' bodies were never recovered," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "They, along with countless others, were presumed to be calcinated by the fire on the Night of the Flames. But Lady Jill..."

“What? He had a girl?”

“No, she wasn´t his daughter, she was a ward of Rosaria. Lord Rosfield brought her from the Northern Kingdom, to ensure a peace we enjoyed only a couple of years thanks to her. But, except for Lady Anabella, Lord Rosfield and his boys treated her as if she were part of their family. Then again, Lady Anabella didn´t even treat her first born as a human being…”

Marleigh nods. “Yes, I heard the tale. It was very good at least my mother recognized me. I don´t know what would I do if my own mother would reject me.”

As they descend the stairs, engrossed in conversation, they are halted by the sight of a soldier dressed in silver armor, reinforced with leather and gray fur: the guard of the dungeon entrance. The guard, startled by their sudden appearance, springs to his feet, his posture stiffening as he bows respectfully to the woman.

“Lady Marleigh. W-what… what brings you here?”

Marleigh puts both hands to her hips, trying to look more intimidating. “We´re here to bring food for the Dominant. Words spread she´s under my husband´s watch while staying in the Ironholm. Is that correct?”

The guard sighs, evidently used to the woman´s tantrums and still weary of them. “Yes, my Lady, but… I… I don´t think this would be appropriate…”

“Would you want to be punished by Lord Thorfinn?”

The guard sighs again. Something worse than being punished for disregards of his post, is to be punished for disobedience against the lady of the castle.

“No, my Lady. You know you´re welcome here.” Without much resistance, the man opens the heavy doors for the women to pass. Marleigh nods and smiles at the guard in thanks, though he just nods, already dreading his punishment. But what else could he do?

Marleigh, ignorant of his tribulations, keeps talking with her friend. “But… what happened with this princess?”

This time, Inga´s sigh is deep. “Well, I heard she was taken with the rests of us, but… hey!” As they reach the further and colder cells, they both notice the soldier guarding the place is stepping out of the last cell… while arranging his pants in a very suspicious way. Inga walks faster towards the man. “What were you doing, you thief!?”

Caught off guard by the women's sudden appearance, the man fumbles frantically to fix his trousers, his fingers desperately tugging at his pants to arrange his undone belt underneath. But his breastplate, heavy and unforgiving, makes the simple task of keeping his trousers in place a Herculean effort.

“M-my Lady! Inga! Emh… you´re… not allowed in here.”

Marleigh doesn´t catch the depth of Inga´s suspicion and just stands in front of the guard, much like with the last one.

“We´re here to bring food for the Dominant. In which cell did you place her?”

The guard looks close to a panic attack now. “Emh… err… here, my Lady. She´s inside this cell…”

Marleigh raises an eyebrow, sensing something is not right while Inga huffs at him and enters with a swift step, still careful not to spill the contents of her tray, though her eyes send him a deadly glare.

But as they traverse the bars, the tray falls soundly from Inga´s hands while Marleigh opens her eyes wide in disbelief.

The cell is the coldest, darkest, dampest place in the entire castle. And in its shadowed corner, they find her: a young woman, barely out of her teens, laying sideways on the cold, unforgiving stone floor. Her eyes are closed, her breath shallow and labored. Her thin, ragged clothing is stained with dried blood, torn open at the chest, revealing a delicate breast exposed to the biting chill. Her bare legs are exposed too, to the freezing night air, causing her body to shiver uncontrollably.

She appears unconscious, a fortunate break, Inga thinks. Yet, even in her decaying state, a certain ethereal beauty shines through. The moonlight, filtering through the cell's grimy window, casts a shiny glow upon her pale, dirt-streaked face and her long, blue-gray hair, which spills across the stone floor like a pool of liquid silver.

In spite of the precarious state she´s in, Marleigh can´t help but admire the ethereal, royal beauty of the woman, and is startled by Inga´s yell.

“By the Founders! Lady Warrick!” The woman launches herself towards the trembling body, completely forgetting all about Marleigh.

"L-Lady...?” Marleigh raises both hands to cover her mouth as understanding dawns upon her. “By the Crystals! Is she the princess you told me about?!”

But Inga doesn't respond, her senses consumed by the sight of the broken figure before her. Still shocked, Marleigh follows her friend and kneels beside the injured woman, her horror growing with every detail she notices. The young woman's skin is marred by countless cuts and bruises. A torn cloth at her back reveals a dried bloodstain, a grim testament to the whipping she endured. Her ripped sleeve exposes a precarious cast on her left arm, a stark reminder of the suffering she has faced, and Marleigh forces an exclamation down her throat, feeling almost close to crying.

Overcome with emotion, Inga does weep as she uses the tattered dress to cover the woman´s chest and shield her exposed limbs from the cold.

“My Lady… why…? How… how is this possible?” She touches the injured arm, and Jill moans at the pain, slowly opening her eyes. Inga immediately places herself at eye level. “Lady Warrick? My Lady?”

“P-please… no more…” Jill´s voice is barely a whisper, but the women can sense the pain behind it, and it clutches at their chests. Inga leans over and takes Jill´s face in between her hands, her tears running freely now.

“It´s… it´s okay, my Lady… I am Inga, do you remember me? I used to work in the bakery…” In between the tears she forces a smile for her. “You used to come to get some bread from my father´s place, along with master Joshua and master Clive…”

“Clive…” Jill´s voice is weak, very weak, but still a soft smile is drawn upon her parted lips, as if his name were her beacon of hope. “Where is… Clive?” she takes Inga´s hand, steel blue eyes fixed on the woman´s dark ones. “I beg you… take me back to him… I want to see him…” A fit of cough ends her pleas.

Marleigh´s heart aches at seeing this noble, beautiful young woman so broken. She looks at the girl´s countrywoman, who seems to be as broken as her, and places a reassuring hand upon her friend´s arm.

“Inga…”

But the woman stands up in a flash, walking furiously towards the guard who had peeked inside the cell after all the ruckus they had made and, as soon as she reaches him, she starts slapping his chest, his arms, using both hands, kicking his shins, as warm tears fall freely down her cheeks.

“Stupid bastard! Do you know who she is?? You were supposed to take care of her! Filthy little rat, how dare you touch her?!”

“Inga! Stop!” The man tries to cover himself with his arms, too conscious she can´t really hurt him with his armor, but quite surprised by the maiden´s violent reaction. “What´s gotten into you? She came looking like that already, I had nothing to do with it! Plus, she´s nothing but a Dominant! Worse than a demon! You are putting yourself in danger if you start protecting her…” His words make her growl even harder, but Marleigh arrives by their side at that moment, taking the weeping woman by the arms and, helped by the guard, makes her lean against the dampened wall, her sobs echoing loudly upon the rock around them.

“Stay with her, Inga, make sure she eats something. He and I will go for another tray.”

The guard growls at that. “I´m sorry, my Lady, but I can´t move…” he tries to change her mind, but an intense glare from the woman makes him gulp, and he bows. “Y-yes… I-I´ll go fetch another tray. Please, just don´t come out of this place, o-or I´ll be punished...” He moves swiftly, all too eager to leave the irate woman´s side. Once the man leaves, Marleigh forces her friend to look at her.

“Inga… is she the one…?”

More tears fall from the woman as her shoulders shake uncontrollably. “Yes, my Lady… she´s Lady Warrick, Rosaria´s ward. We all… we all loved her because she was always so sweet to us, just like Master Rosfield and Master Joshua…” She sniffles hard. “They were nothing but children… and yet… and yet they always managed to make us feel better, helping us in some chores when Lady Anabella wasn´t watching, treating us with kindness… even the branded benefited from their sweetness…”

Marleigh nods. “Don´t worry, Inga, I´ll make sure he stays far away from her. Go to your lady, see if you can raise her. I´ll bring the food and the needed supplies to heal her. Just…” She uses two fingers to raise her chin. “Just make sure she´s okay.”

“Y-yes, Lady Marleigh…” But before the woman leaves, Inga takes her by the wrist, new tears falling freely down her cheeks. “Thank you… thank you very much…”

Marleigh shakes her head, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "No, Inga, no need to thank me." She then turns her gaze to Jill's still form, sadness clouding her eyes. "I just hope that, one day, if I were to fall from grace, someone would come to cry for me as you just cried for her."

------------------------

Jill feels her body trembling from head to toe when she hears the abbot´s soft words, his voice breaking as he receives the bearer´s last breath. She can feel her heart breaking too as the man loses his life in front of them.

But her eyes never leave the abbot´s piteous hand, gently and warmly placed upon the dying man´s chest. All in all, he did have a sweet death, which is more than many, oh, so many bearers could ever even dream of.

She lowers her head as the bearer´s whole body is petrified, and places a hand upon her mouth to prevent any treacherous sound from escaping her throat, as she closes her eyes tightly, ordering them not to shed any tear. Not a single one.

A soft whimper breaks her reverie, drawing her attention to the source of the sound. Torgal, his golden eyes filled with sorrow for her, nudges her leg with his nose. The empathy and understanding in his gaze are too much to bear, shattering her carefully constructed facade. She can no longer hold back the tears that spill freely down her cheeks.

“C-Clive…” She raises her eyes to tell her partner, to at least let him know she needs to get out of there… but her voice is nothing but a whisper, her eyes brimming with tears that only allow her to see his broad back and, not wanting to break further in front of him, she turns around swiftly, hands clenched into fists as she fights against her own emotions. But her quick retreat doesn´t pass completely unnoticed by the man, as he turns around to see her lithe frame traversing the wooden doors.

“Jill?”

Once outside, she practically runs to the side of the church and presses her back against the wall, and though her hand is pressed against the mouth to avoid any louder sound, she still sobs, shoulders shaking, and finally she lets the tears stream freely down her face, while, always respectful, Torgal just sits by her side, his eyes looking at the horizon, without a sound escaping from his throat, as if the loyal wolf could guess she desperately needs company. But nothing else.

“Jill?” Clive finally finds her and stops a couple of steps from her. “Are you alright?”

His voice, laced with concern, jolts her from her despair. She cannot let him see her vulnerable, cannot let him think her weak. She refuses to be defined by her tears, to be seen as incapable because of her feminine reaction.

Angrily, she shakes her head to gain control of her emotions as she furiously cleanses her tears with her sleeve.

“Y-yes, Clive… don’t worry. It’s just…”

He gives a step forward. “Too much?”

She shakes her head again, inhaling deeply as she gets her control back. “Just… probably. Don´t worry, I´m okay now.”

He gives the last step forward and raises his hand, searching to take her arm in a comforting gesture. “Don´t worry, I understand, I…” but he is startled by the immediate retrieval of her arm, of her suddenly giving many steps away from him, as she turns around, giving him her back, both arms surrounding her own body, her rejection filling his eyes with sadness. How can a small movement create such a heartbreak?

“I said I´m okay, Clive. You shouldn´t worry about me. His death just took me by surprise, that´s all.”

Her voice is cold, colder than he had ever heard it. He hasn´t lowered his hand, the one that had sought to touch her, to comfort her. But his expression is that of sorrow.

“Jill…”

She gives one last shake of her head and turns around, meeting his midnight eyes, and the heartbreak drawn in them make her heart clench. Not now, please…

“It´s okay, Clive,” she tries to smile for him. “I´m okay. Thank you for… for coming to comfort me. I can assure you it was just a silly slip.”

He nods at her, closing the distance that separates them, but keeping himself at arm´s length. He doesn´t want to intrude her, not especially now that she looks so… vulnerable.

“You know you can count on us, Torgal and I,” the hound barks as if in agreement, which makes Jill chuckle. Clive will remember to give his furry comrade the best steak in Martha´s rest just for managing such a feat. Jill leans over him to pet his head.

“Thank you Torgal, Clive… You have no idea how much it means to me… But let´s… let´s not linger here and go help the abbot, shall we? I´m sure there is work to be done now that two branded…” She gulps the words, unable to speak them, and she walks swiftly past Clive, her eyes never meeting his again, and he nods, trying to truly understand her.

“Yes, certainly.” As he walks beside her, he raises his hand to place it over the small of her back to guide her, to let her know he´s there for her. But, just like when they were kids, he hesitates at the last moment, and clenches the hand into a fist, feeling sad, and now, frustrated as well.

They´re about to enter together the small chapel, but suddenly Jill stops, making him almost crash against her body if it weren´t for the fact that he´s much too attentive to her every move.

“Jill?”

“I´m sorry Clive, I just…” She holds herself with both arms, trying to put her thoughts in order.

She looks so fragile doing that! Looks so much like the little girl who used to pray to Metia for his safe return. Clive´s arms ache as a sudden need to hold her, to make her feel better, overcomes him. But once more he stands still, clenching his need and his heart as he sees her shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about me, really… it´s just… Just when I thought the world, humanity, has come to the lowest it can get… it´s a wonder there are still people, like Martha, the abbot and his wife… who truly care for other people, who are willing to give their everything to help, to care, to comfort those in need…”

She turns around to meet his eyes, ponds of deep baby blue searching for his, and he can see crystalline tears pooling in them, her chin trembling in the feeble attempt at speaking. The sight breaks his heart again, but this time for a different reason. Yes, she truly is the little girl he once cared for. He smiles sadly at her, and, seeking to not make her uncomfortable, allows himself the only type of contact she had sought from him, as he takes her hand just like she took his when they met at the infirmary, forcing himself to suppress a triumphant smile when he feels her fingertips entwining with his.

“Did his death make you remember past events in the Ironholm?”

She lowers her eyes as the emotion overwhelms her again, makes her choke in it. But once again, he can witness the strength behind her heart, as the once steel blue eyes looking at him with sadness and pain, now stare at him with determination and vigor.

“Yes. If it weren´t for people like him in the Ironholm, and after that, in mount Drustanus, I´m sure I…” She shakes her head, making it evident she´s forcing emotions down her throat. “Clive, please, there´s something I can do, something I must do for them… tell me, could we stay here one more day?” Her voice is steady, but he senses she´s almost begging him to understand. “Can we stay in the abbey, or at Martha´s rest, to help the abbot and his wife with whatever they need, to see for this group of dying branded?”

“But, Jill… we are so close to…” He looks at the horizon longingly. They are but mere hours from their destination!

She gives a step forward, her body barely one step away from him, the unusual closeness producing a flicker in his stomach that takes his breath away.

"I promise you we won't be long, just a day or so," she pleads, her voice filled with urgency. "But I must do this. I must help these incredible people who are aiding those most in need. People who are struggling and have no means of helping themselves. Do you understand the rarity of such kindness? The desperate need for such compassion?"

“Jill… I know, but…”

She takes another step, their bodies nearly brushing. The proximity is intoxicating, and as he realizes their faces are so close to one another, he can feel the heat rising within him. By the Founders! When did it get so hot around here?

“These people are doing their best to help those tortured to their deaths. And who is there to help them? Please, Clive. Just one night.”

Lost in the depths of her steel-blue irises, Clive can't help but smile widely at her request. At that moment, he’d agree to anything she asks of him.

But she’s always been like that, as he remembers the times he and Joshua would be drawn, actually blackmailed with a smile into accompany her to get some bread from the castle’s bakery, only to distribute it to the famished children they found in their trek, especially those who were bearers. She always knew where to find them, as if the kids could smell the freshly baked bread and knew in advance it was destined for them. And now that he thinks about it, he’s growing suspicious that she might have had some sort of prior arrangement with the kids, directing them to meet her wherever she told them to.

“Yes, Jill. We will do whatever you need.”

And just like when they were children, his reward is her radiant smile, a beacon of warmth that fills his heart in a way no one else ever has.

“Thank you, Clive. I´ll let the abbot know.”

The woman turns around and walks in swift steps towards the inside of the abbey, all too eager to comfort and aid the pious man, while Clive crosses his arms over his chest, feeling proud of himself at still being able to raise her spirits as easily as that. Torgal sits by his side, a dignified bark directed at him, and he smirks, understanding the intention.

“Thank you, Torgal. I´m glad you´re feeling proud of me too.”

He leans forward and caresses the thick fur of the wolf around his ear, and the furry companion barks again as if pleased he made himself perfectly understood.

Chapter Text

A/N: Let me clarify something for you, so that your lecture is easier: when you see this --- it’s separation from scene to scenes in the same timeline. When you see this: ooOOoo the timeline has changed, and usually it means we are seeing Jill in the present. I´m sorry for all the confusion, and hope you still enjoyed the chapter.

ooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo

The loud opening of the rusted door to her cell wakes her up from her light slumber. Slowly, Jill opens her eyes and sighs with sadness, as her sight is met by the dark and dampened rocky ceiling of her cell. She´s startled at first by the repeating of the sound, but when she sees Marleigh´s form walking toward her, she smiles, knowing she´s safe.

“I had dreamed I was back in Rosaria… with Clive and Joshua…”

“Oh? Lord Elwin´s sons?” Marleigh kneels beside her bed of hay, taking the tray of food with her.

“Yes.” The young woman smiles widely as the images replay in her mind. “We were… having a picnic… one where Joshua fell in the mud for trying to catch Torgal, who had run to catch a butterfly… as he usually did.” Jill giggles softly, though fails to notice a silent tear escaping from her eye.

Marleigh smiles widely at seeing her mood improving, as she helps her to straighten her posture, takes off her own warm cape and surrounds Jill´s shoulders with it.

“A memory, then. It is beautiful.”

“Yes… yes, it is…” Jill sniffles and cleans the tears from her eyes with a rather angry tone, while she pulls at the cape over her shoulder to better position it, the cast on her left arm making the task rather difficult.

Marleigh looks at her with sadness. “How is your arm?”

Jill looks at her left and cradles her cast with the other hand, and, noticing the concerned eyes of her protector, decides to lie for her benefit. “It´s… bearable now, my Lady. It´s been more than a month, I can barely feel it. Only when I step into this cell it´s when it starts aching.”

Marleigh sighs. “I´m sorry, Jill, I couldn´t convince my husband to take you out of the dungeons. Said he feared Imreann´s or the King´s anger if they found out we were treating you too kindly for a...” She realizes her mistake and puts a hand on her mouth, feeling guilty. “I´m sorry, my child! I didn´t mean to…”

Jill ignores the unsaid word and opens her eyes wide, her single healthy hand rushing to take Marleigh´s. “No, no! I´m sorry my Lady! It wasn´t my intention to make you feel that way! You´ve already done so much for me…”

“Nonsense, girl. My husband did so much for me too when I came to work in this castle... The least I can do is to keep doing his work.” She offers Jill the tray of food. “But stop thinking about that. I brought you a hot soup. I´m sure it´ll help you even more to resist this awful cold.”

Jill´s eyes illuminate at the sight of the warm meal, and nods. “Thank you so much, my Lady! I dare say you are a light in the dark for me. If it weren´t for you…” She suddenly feels her eyes prickling, so she shuts up, forcing her emotion down her throat with the soup. Unfortunately, the pleasurable feeling of the hot liquid warming her insides have the exact opposite effect, and Jill´s eyes are suddenly filled with silent, unwelcomed tears.

“Jill?”

The young Dominant sniffles. “I… I´m sorry, my Lady… Don´t think the soup is bad, it´s just… I still miss them so much… in spite of the years… they never leave my mind…” She furiously cleanses her eyes with the back of her hand, but it´s as if someone had turned on a faucet, because now the tears are streaming freely down her cheeks. “I-I don´t know what´s happening…”

Marleigh passes an arm around trembling shoulders, holding the young woman close, a silent comfort in the face of overwhelming grief. “It´s okay, Jill… I understand. Cry all you need, kid. I´m here for you.”

She shouldn´t have said that.

Jill's sobs echo through the cell, raw and unfiltered, a torrent of emotion unleashed after years of silent mourning. The weight of her loss, the burden of her unspoken pain, presses against her chest, overwhelming her senses. As if a dam had burst, Jill's tears flow freely, cascading down her face, a relentless river of grief that threatens to drown her. The bowl of soup, forgotten in her hand, is growing cold as she surrenders to the depths of her sorrow.

She sobs uncontrollably, her body wracked with grief. Her face is buried in Marleigh´s broad chest, seeking solace and comfort. The older woman, moved by Jill's raw emotion, can't hold back her own tears. With a gentle hand, she takes the trembling plate from the suffering Dominant, placing it carefully on the floor. Then, she wraps both arms around Jill, offering a comforting embrace.

“It´s okay, baby girl. It´s okay. You´ll be fine, I´m sure of it. We still don´t know how, but you´ll manage to survive, you´ll see. Shiva has seen your potential, Jill, knows you´re stronger than this, and in any case, I´m sure she´ll share her strength with you.”

“But I don´t know how to do it!” Jill cries with all her might. “He´ll kill me if I don´t show him Shiva!”

Marleigh raises an eyebrow. “He?”

Jill sniffles. “General Sören… he… he wants me to transform into Shiva for him. Has promised me that, if I don´t let him touch the goddess…. he…” Jill clenches her hands into fists, hurting her palms with her broken fingernails. “But… but Marleigh… I don´t even know how to do it! She won´t come out of me, because she´s so ashamed of me!”

Her words, her sobs, clench Marleigh´s heart so much, that she grows desperate as to how to help this broken girl in her arms, rivers of salt dampening her own cheeks just as much as are Jill´s face. And just when she´s about to surrender to the ambience, and cry just like Jill does, Marleigh has an idea.

“In case you learned how to fully prime… will you let general Sören do something to Shiva?”

Jill straightens up as if slapped. “No! I certainly won´t!!” Though her tears are running freely still, her eyes burn with intensity. “I won´t let that horrible man touch her, desecrate something so sacred from my homeland! I´d rather die!”

But, though Marleigh smiles at seeing such bravery behind those terrified eyes, she shushes her, making her return to her embrace.

“It´s okay, Jill, it was just a question. But I´m glad to know there´s still fire inside that heart, a fire that would protect something so sacred from your homeland. The goddess of your ancestors…”

Jill clenches her hands over the woman´s fabric. “I won´t let him have her, Marleigh…”

Marleigh nods. “I know…” She holds the young woman tighter against her chest, and they remain a moment longer embraced like that, until another idea comes to mind. “Listen, Jill, I don´t remember much of Rosaria, but… But after we met, a couple of years ago, Inga taught me how our land prays for the Phoenix to save them, prays for him to grant them his strength. We can ask her to teach you too.” Softly, she lets go of the smaller body and coups Jills cheeks with both hands, forcing terrified eyes brimming with tears to look at her. “You are the Dominant of Shiva, my child, you weren´t born to worship, nor to be tortured, you were born to be worshipped upon.”

Jill shakes her head, trembling lips forcing her voice to come out. “B-but Marleigh… I never asked for this, never asked to be a Dominant… I… I don´t want to hold Shiva… I´m… not worthy of her…” Jill repeats Sören´s words, not wanting to recognize how much they actually hurt.

Marleigh shakes her head too, holding her tighter against her breast. “No one wants those types of blessings. Blessings that seem more like curses. But at least it means that, inside you, there´s someone stronger than you, than me, than the Ironbloods, who will preserve your soul from defeat.”

Jill is crying again. “But Shiva won´t come out… won´t appear to help me…”

“Maybe because she´s waiting for you to be strong enough. Your body still can´t take that much magic. But maybe she´s waiting for you grow further, to grow stronger, resilient enough to wield her power.”

Jill´s eyes open wide in astonishment at this new idea she had never considered before, the torrent of tears suddenly coming to an end. “Shiva is… waiting for me to…?”

Yes, that thought had never crossed her mind. That there was a reason, other than self-deprecation, for Shiva to hold herself from her fingers.

Shiva, the worshipped goddess of her lands, of her mother and grandmother, waiting for her to grow...

“Stronger, Jill. To grow worthy of her.”

Jill´s head spins, as her eyes unfocus at those words. She… growing worthy of Shiva…?

Her mind goes astray for far too long, that she doesn´t notice when she finally falls asleep, enveloped in protective arms that guide her spent body to the ground, letting her sleep the rest of the day.

---------------------------------

A chill creeps down Jill's spine as she ascends the treacherous path. The oppressive heat of the volcano, coupled with the biting cold of fear, makes her shiver. Her wrists, raw and bleeding from the magical restraints, throb with every step while her injured arm pulses with pain, a muted ache that dulls the sharper fear gnawing at her. Her heart pounds in her chest, a desperate rhythm that mirrors the chaos within her mind. Yet, she refuses to yield to despair. Her gaze, steely and defiant, masks the terror that consumes her.

At least they won´t see it written in her visage.

Her distraction costs her, though, as she stumbles upon a rock, and almost falls face first against the hot ground, what with both arms tightly secured behind her back. Fortunately for her, the guard by her side reacts quickly and pulls at her arm to stabilize her, yet he unintentionally draws a painful yell from her lips as the pull hurts her still not healed arm, the sudden pain taking her by surprise.

“I´m sorry.” Edvard, the guard that every week accompanies her in her trek towards the Ironblood´s grip, immediately apologizes for hurting her, lessening his grip on her arm. “Does it still ache?”

“N-no…” She shivers, but tries to fake resilience. “I was just surprised. Nothing more than that.”

He looks intently at her for almost a minute, but she schools her features, doing a great effort to resemble the goddess that resides within her.

“You have changed..." Edvard's eyes narrow, a flicker of pity and admiration battling within his gaze. Ultimately, admiration triumphs, though a shadow of sadness remains.

She looks up, trying to find the other guard who, as usual, has climbed the stairs further. Finding him gone, she sighs out of relief. He won´t be bothering them for a while.

“What do you mean? Because I´m strong enough to walk without dragging my feet through the floor?” She winces at her own hostile tone, knowing she shouldn´t be so aggressive with him. But she can´t really help it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t take it personal. “Yes. Maybe that could be it. Do they feed you well in Lord Thorfinn´s castle?”

She lowers her head, trying not to give them away. “A little bit better than here at least.”

He lets go of her injured arm and gives a few fast steps ahead, planting his feet in front of her and effectively stopping her walk as he searches in his satchel.

“Here, I too brought something for you.” He offers her a piece of what she can recognize as his own breakfast, just like every week he has served as his escort, though this time, she notices he´s not offering bread or any other cooked vegetable, instead, he´s offering a delicious piece of meat, and she hesitates.

“I… I cannot accept it… I´m sorry but, it´s too much.”

“Nonsense.” He waves his hand in dismissal, his smile still wide. “You know very well meat will be a lot better for you than any other bread or veggie, especially since you always return to us with many scars and bruises. Eating meat will make you stronger and help you heal faster.”

Yes, she knows that, but she still feels unworthy. “But… Edvard… I worry about you. Won´t you get punished if you keep helping me?”

His smile is wide, unique. “This is the first time you say my name… it sounds so good when you say it with that nice, foreign accent of yours...”

Her cheeks stain prettily in a soft pink hue, but she tries to hide it with an indulgent glare. “Edvard… I´m serious…”

He chuckles at her. “I know. I´m touched, thought, to see you´re worrying about me, but don´t. I know what I´m doing, so please, let me help.” He offers the piece again and she lets herself smile in anticipation, opening her mouth to receive the trait. Though this time, she notices his fingertips linger on her lips a second more than needed, though she decides to shake the odd feeling and let it pass, distracted by the delicious sensation of well-cooked meat upon her tongue.

“Is it good?”

“Yes, delicious. Your wife truly is a good cook.”

“Oh! No! I don´t have a wife…” He blushes a bit, and she raises a delicate eyebrow at that. “I made it myself. See, I used to work in a bakery, but always preferred cooking the meat.”

“Then why did you become a soldier?”

He shrugs. “Necessity, of course. Especially with the Blight.”

She´s about to respond, to let him know she understands, but unfortunately the other guard peeks over the long stairs.

“C´mon, Edvard! You´re too late!”

Edvard sighs heavily and looks at her in an apologetic gesture. “I really hope this week general Sören doesn´t treat you that bad. You really scared me last week at how battered and hurt you looked.”

She smiles sadly at him. “I… I´m sorry I scared you…”

“Oh no! It´s not your fault! I just mean that…”

“Yes, I know what you mean, and thank you, truly, for being so kind to me. I just guess… it´s time for me to do something for myself.”

Edvard looks at her with a questioning glance, but only nods.

“O-okay… well… yeah. Let´s go, before they start noticing we´re not advancing much.” He walks to her level and takes her uninjured arm with delicacy, pulling at her but taking care of doing it not too harshly, since he´s much too conscious the other arm is still sensitive. Taking advantage of their proximity, he keeps talking to her. “So, how is the arm?”

Jill lowers her head so that no one can notice her answering.

“It´s… getting better… thank you.”

“Does still hurt?”

“Yes… but at least now is tolerable.”

“I´m glad…” He pauses a moment and then decides to speak his mind. “What did you mean about doing something for yourself? You´re… not going to hurt yourself, right? You know, in order to escape…”

She opens her eyes wide at his question.

“N-no! I mean… yes, the thought has crossed my mind but… but I could never hurt myself like that!”

He smiles softly at her. “I´m glad. But then, what…?”

“I´m going to get stronger, you´ll see.” When she speaks, her smile is brilliant, as if infused by fate. As if she had hidden within her the most precious present in the world, and he can only think it´s the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

As they traverse the last iron-rusted door, Edvard releases her trapped arm. But before he can say his goodbyes, his partner reaches them and takes Jill´s left arm rather harshly, pushing her forward with too much force, hurting her injured arm with the rough shoving.

“Go on, monster, they´re waiting for you.”

Already used to his harsh treatment, she merely moans at the pain but doesn´t say anything, and walks determinedly as she breathes deeper, forcing her mounting fear to lessen, praying in between her teeth just like Marleigh taught her.

“Oh… dear Shiva… please… help me pass this madness alive…”

Though it wasn't exactly the same, the night before her departure, Inga and Marleigh helped her remember the ancient Rosarian practice of praying to the Phoenix for strength in times of trial. She herself had witnessed Clive's fervent pleas to the divine bird. They assured her that, even if it wasn't an exact match, the magnificent Shiva had chosen her for a reason, and she would not be abandoned. By praying to her goddess, she could cultivate a resilience that would see her through her darkest hours.

So, pray she shall.

“Please, Shiva… you are… my mother´s and the mother of my mother´s adored goddess… please… help me see through this…” She repeats the mantra, a desperate plea for strength. With each step, she wills herself forward, her heart pounding in her chest. A strange sensation washes over her - a chilling calm that envelops her like a mantle made of frost, a stark contrast to the fiery inferno surrounding her. It's as if a cold wind has swept through her, offering a moment of respite from the oppressive heat of the mountain. She wonders if it's Shiva answering her prayers, or simply a trick of her mind. Yet, the hope that flickers within her is undeniable.

Even if it can´t give her any more strength.

As she walks alone, the rugged path leading to the arena seems to stretch endlessly. Despite her previous mental preparations, though, a wave of terror washes over Jill as she sees him:

General Sören, her tormentor, stands before her, idly awaiting her arrival in the middle of the arena, his devilish grin widening as his gaze rakes over her form, his malevolent grin a harbinger of the horrors to come.

At the sight of him, her legs tremble, a stark contrast to the steely resolve she had tried to cultivate.

“Oh… what do we have here? The little monster has come back for more? It seems my love is not enough to convince you of killing yourself.” He puts both fists against his hips, all too pleased for his mocking words. “And, well, what do we have here? I see you´re filling out quite nicely… huhuhu. It seems your nights at Creag Loisgte are really paying up.” He leers at her, making Jill tremble. “It´d be quite a pleasure to receive you once more in my bed, after today´s most surely pathetic training.”

Jill averts her eyes from him, refusing to see those dark pools looking at her figure with hunger. This time… this time she has to do better. To keep him away from her body.

Though she´s well aware such a feat might be beyond her wildest dreams.

The man unsheathes his practice sword and directs it at her. “Come here, abomination. Let´s see if that useless arm can be useful for something.”

“I can… become worthy of her…” Jill whispers to herself while the Ironblood guards take the handcuffs off of her and give her a practice sword, she trying to make those her words of strength to protect her from pain and fear. “I can… I can do better…” A sudden slap across the face sends her crashing to the ground.

“What are you mumbling about, monster? Are you planning something against me?” Sören looms over her, her sprawled body lying in front of him.

Rather pitifully, she crawls a little with her healthy hand, enough to get a few meters away from him and then stands up, keeping her injured arm pressed against her lower belly to protect it from further injury, just in time to avoid a hit from the wooden sword. But the second attack, fast and precise, does reach her stomach, taking the air completely out of her.

“Ough!!”

Third strike, this time with a closed fist, and she´s sent reeling backward with a bleeding lip.

“Ja! Pathetic as I said. And as I thought, the only place you´re mildly useful, is in my or my soldier´s bed.”

Panting, with a hand Jill cleans the blood off her face, anger building up, as she forces it to surpass her fear of the man.

“Please, my goddess… please… I need your strength… I need to survive this…” Jill doesn´t notice that, with her plea, her eyes flare with a blue-white light, the veins on her face becoming a blue neon light while the temperature around them drops fast.

Sören gives a step backward, being the first to notice the change in her features. Is she about to prime? But as a trained soldier, he gulps down the fear and recognizes his work is finally paying up. She´s definitively pulling at Shiva´s strings.

“What now? Are you going to kill me, or what?”

Jill rises slowly, her hand extended, reaching for the magic she can feel coursing through her veins. But her concentration is broken by a relentless coughing fit that grips her, a searing pain radiating from her chest. She crumbles to the ground, feeling like she´s coughing her lungs out. Sören, his patience exhausted, lets out a frustrated cry, his arms raised in defiance.

“By the crystals! How useless can you be!?” Impatience gnaws at the general, a frustration born of a wasted afternoon. He gestures to one of his men, a barely seasoned soldier, hardly a few years older than Jill. A smirk spreads across the young man's face as he takes his wooden sword and strides towards the center of the arena, flanked by four of his comrades. “It´s too early in the day and already I´m tired of this garbage. Fight with her until there´s no place in her body without a bruise. After that, if you want to, do with her whatever you please.”

“Yes sir!” Though the men salute their superior, their eyes are already leering at the feminine figure in front of them.

Jill slowly stands up, her frightened eyes meeting each set of dark ones in front of her as she grips the training sword tightly, her useless arm pressed against her chest.

Behind them, Sören screams at her at the top of his lungs. “If you want to prevent all of them from having a taste of you, you better prime, monster. Or teach them what I´ve been teaching you. Whatever you choose I really don´t care.” He turns around and walks away, though he can´t prevent a small glee forming in his eyes as he looks back at her from above his shoulder. “See you in my bed tonight… in case you survive.” His smirk widens as he catches her final, furious glance. The intense blue shine of her eyes, burning with anger, seems to sear into his mind. But his triumph is short-lived. Two figures step into his path, interrupting his moment of victory. He addresses only one, bowing deeply, while glaring at the other with undisguised hostility.

“Father Imreann. What an honor to have you down here in the arena.”

Imreann´s eyes, just like the man´s by his side, remain fixed on Jill´s struggling form. “I thought I had asked you to train the demon. Not to kill her.”

A smug grin plays on Sören's lips as he watches Jill lunge towards her opponent, blade raised. But before she can strike, two soldiers on each side of her move to intercept her. Their swords flash, connecting with her back with a resounding thud, the force of the blow sends her crashing to the ground, the wind knocked out of her lungs.

“She looks pretty alive to me.”

“What I see, is that she doesn´t know how to fight. She´s just throwing blows stupidly.” The man on Imreann´s right speaks. Though his pale skin, white hair and beard, and blue eyes speak of him as part of the Ironblood, he is wearing a loose-fitting tunic and ornate headwear, much like the Dhalmekian style that make Sören glare at him. His dark blue eyes, though, don´t pay attention to the general´s glare and instead, never leave the girl´s struggling form.

Sören growls at his words and then shrugs. “You sent me a weak and pathetic little princess to train… Father…” Imreann´s dark look makes the general hesitate. “I´m merely taking out her animal instinct. Skill will come later.”

Imreann looks at him. “I believe it´s time for skill to come forth.”

Sören´s eyes become cold, calculated, but then bows deep. “As you wish, Father. May I leave now?”

Imreann doesn´t say anything, nor mentions the intense glare the two men at his side share, as if satisfied of their rivalry.

Sören walks away with a last glance at Jill´s battle, seeing how his men are subduing her quite easily. Yet, he doesn´t fail to notice her movements, though mostly futile, are more furious, more determined. A lot more violent. He smirks, hoping his men don´t turn up much too injured by her attacks.

oooooooooOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

Cid arrived in Lostwing an hour ahead of schedule, seeking refuge at the Hanged Man. As always, he used the extra time to gather information and solidify new alliances, a well-worn strategy in his arsenal, and now sits idly inside, drinking beer.

Waiting for Jill to appear.

Though he'd initially suggested they travel separately to Northreach, now, as he journeys, worry gnaws at him about Jill. It's not that he doubts her capabilities—she's a Dominant, after all, skilled and deadly enough to strike fear into enemy armies, so much so that her prowess prompted assassins to be hired to end her life, and Clive himself has praised her exceptional swordsmanship. Still, a sense of unease lingers, a nagging doubt that something might befall her.

Thus, his consciousness forces him to linger at the Hanged Man for the young woman to appear.

Cid is well aware he´s nothing but haunted by the memory of Benedikta's tragic demise. He's plagued by the distressing thought that he could have done more, should have tried harder to save her. That's why he feels so fiercely protective of Jill, the last remaining female Dominant. He's determined to prevent history from repeating itself, all the while respecting her independence and strength. As much as he can.

His musings are interrupted by a stylish figure appearing in the entrance, her elegance making almost every male head turn. And a few female eyes as well.

Jill's silhouette, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun at her back, seem almost ethereal. Her natural beauty, combined with her regal elegance and the radiant power of her Eikon, creates an aura of almost divine grace. The admiring, and sometimes leering, gazes she receives only seem to solidify his perception.

Yet, like a princess, she glides through the room, oblivious to the admiring gazes directed her way. She seems lost in thought, indifferent to her surroundings, or maybe beyond them. And yet, Cid knows better. He can sense she's acutely aware of every man in the room, their every move, their every intention. How did she cultivate such keen awareness and such formidable combat skills? He's both curious and fearful of the answer.

As soon as steel blue eyes find him, he sees her shake her head in disbelief and smirk at the same time, immediately directing her steps to his table. Trying to win her over and appear as a gentleman (for at least once in his life) Cid stands up to greet her.

“Good evening, princess.”

Her smirk widens, her northern accent highlighting the amusement in her voice. “I don´t know why it doesn´t surprise me to find you here. Have you been following me?”

He chuckles, impressed by her keen senses. “I don’t see why you would think such a thing.” At his words, she raises a delicate eyebrow in disbelief, making him chuckle even more. “Touché, princess.” Gentlemanly he offers her the chair in front of him and she complies, though her calculating eyes remain fixed on him.

“If it´s because you´re worried about my safety, let me tell you that your concern actually offends me. If that´s not the reason of your presence here, then… I must admit, you´re creeping me out.”

“Now why would you think such a despicable thing from me? Have I been in any way creepy with you?”

She straightens her posture, her expression shifting from amusement to a cold, hard glare in the blink of an eye. The swiftness of her transformation catches him off guard.

“All men seek nothing but one thing from a young woman. And you can´t deny such a universal truth.”

Knowing of her tribulations, can he really blame her for believing as such? Cid tries to be serious as he leans forward. “Not all men.”

Jill leans forward too, her gesture not lessening. “If you had a daughter, would you look her in the eye and tell her such a lie?”

The man is surprised even more by her words, but then just shrugs. “Fine, fine, princess, you win this round. But it’s your turn to be honest: would you include Clive in your cynical definition of men? In case you haven´t noticed, he is a man too.”

Jill hesitates for a moment and deviates her eyes from him, blushing faintly. “Clive is… the exception that confirms the rule.”

Cid chuckles lowly, happy to see he had guessed her answer correctly. “You do know he´s most probably laid with women, right? Most surely not with well-behaved virgins of high-ranking families, but with prostitutes, given his condition as branded.”

This time her glare is deep and sincere. “He has not given me any reason to doubt him. I understand he might have his… needs… taken care of. Yet I´m absolutely certain he´s never forced himself onto anyone. Not him.”

He chuckles at the vehemence of her words, and takes out a cigar. “Yes, you might be right. Sweet little Clive has not that kind of nerve inside any of his veins. Yet, he´s still a man. A young man with… needs, as you put it. Would you not trust him?”

As she doesn´t answer, Cid raises his palms in surrender. “Fine, then, before you get truly angry at me, let me clarify something. You should never think of me like that. Not only I respect you and Clive profoundly, but, as you perfectly guessed, I happen to have a daughter, now on her teens, and you can imagine how… absolutely terrified I am of her living in this horrible world, especially since she came out to be like her mother. Heavenly beautiful.”

She opens her eyes wide. “Y-you… have a daughter? A teenage daughter? I-I didn´t mean to… I… I didn´t know…”

Cid chuckles at her stammering. “Yes, I´m well aware your words were nothing but a lucky guess, yet now I´m offended by the surprise in your face. Why couldn´t I have a daughter?”

Jill blinks, coming out of her stupor. “Well… it´s not that I would doubt you could. But it´s… quite a surprise for me you would recognize her, and even more worry about her.”

“Now I´m officially offended, Jill.”

She giggles, covering her mouth with the back of a hand, the elegance of her gesture allowing him to understand why Clive, and a few of the men in the Hanged Man, could be head over heels for this beautiful woman.

“My apologies. You´re right, you do seem like a good father figure. And I´m being truly honest.”

“Well, thank you.”

“But still, I won´t let you accompany me.”

Now he leans backward over his chair, crossing his arms upon the chest as he puffs up smoke. “And why´s that?”

“Because you didn´t let me accompany Clive to Northreach to protect him, giving us reasons that seemed very understandable, logical ones. And yet, against what we all had agreed, now you want to accompany me? Doesn´t seem to be a little too hypocritical from you?”

“One can change course of action if one deems it important, right? Why would you be angry?”

She leans even further, her gesture defiant. “It should´ve been me the one following Clive, not you me.”

Cid smirks and exhales the smoke. “I believe Clive is a big boy now, and strong enough to protect himself.”

“Yes, but he´s still struggling with Joshua´s memory. I still believe he is suffering, and he shouldn´t be left on his own.”

“And you think your company would help him with that?”

Taken aback by the question, she blushes prettily as she straightens her position. “Well… no… I-I don´t want to sound too egocentric but… I-I would think I at least can do something for him… besides, he´s a branded, people treat him foully when I´m not around… I… I was playing as his master when we were at Martha´s Rest.. and everyone bought it, they stopped being too mean to him, and…”

Cid touches her hand over the table, just enough so to stop her rant, but takes it out fast enough to not make her uncomfortable as he had anticipated her immediate withdrawal of the appendix.

“And you would have guessed correctly once again. You are his pilar, Jill. Never doubt that. But you´re right, I robbed you of your possibility to heal him further. And for that, let me be the one to accompany you in his stead, because something tells me that you, too, have a lot of things to heal.”

She glares softly at him, not liking her heart to be called.

“It´s not necessary, Cid.”

“No, but I´d love to.”

She stands up, trying to keep her composure. “Well, I appreciate the offering, but you were right. If we get to Northreach our separate ways, it´d be less suspicious. I hope you trust me enough to let me go on my own. And not following me.”

He shows his palms in surrender. “Fine, fine. I promise I won´t be an old creep and won´t follow you around. Just promise me you´ll be careful, then. For Clive, of course.”

“Of course. I´ll meet you both in Northreach.” Without giving him further opportunities to call her on it, she turns around and leaves the place, Cid crossing his arms over the chest as he shakes his head.

“This is going to get tougher than I thought.”

------------------

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense, verdant canopy of the Ancient Path to Northreach, Jill's frustration grows by the minute. She's just dispatched a group of monstrous scorpions, confronted the deadly ambush of enormous Black Widow spiders, and skillfully escaped the jaws of a ravenous wyvern. Her rapier, now stained crimson and goo with the blood of her adversaries, hangs heavy at her side.

"I should've stayed at the Hanged Man," she mutters, her calm facade slipping for a moment while she walks tiredly through the lonely road. Beneath the surface of her calm exterior, a tempest always rages, her temper a volatile force that sometimes clouds her judgment. Like, this time, it's led her to reject Cid's offer of company, a decision she now regrets. She's still a couple of hours from civilization, alone and exposed. Perhaps she should have heeded her instincts and sought shelter at the Hanged Man.

“I should… better turn around I guess…”

“Hello beautiful.” A deep, male voice coming from the bushes startles her, her hand immediately gripping the handle of her rapier. As she turns her sight to the side of the road, she finds a group of five men, dressed in peasant´s robes, their faces half covered with pieces of cloth. Though she cannot see their faces, their eyes, of course, give their intentions away.

“And what do we have here?” Another one speaks.

Jill loses her fighting stance, trying to feign nonchalance, though her hand never leaves the rapier´s handle.

"I don't know, you tell me." She scoffs. "All I see is a large group of idiots preying on a lone and exhausted woman."

The group chuckle at her, and she notices most of them are leering at her figure.

“Now what about that attitude? We are nothing but good Samaritans wanting to shelter a nice girl from the cold night. There are dangerous beasts around here, as you can see. We care for your safety.”

She shifts her weight a little over one foot, noticing how the men are trying to make a half circle around her.

“Yes, I noticed, and though I very much appreciate your concern over my safety, I should decline your offer. I´m a lady, thus, I shouldn´t be seen in the company of men. Especially at this late hour.”

The one closest to her smirks. “Oh! Is that so? Well, in my hometown, it´s said that women walking lonely in the night are looking for only one thing in particular. And, my men and I, are much too willing to give you that what you´re looking for.”

A delicate eyebrow raises. “Oh? So, we´re pulling off the mask now?”

The man´s smirk widens.

“For a sexy girl like you, we certainly are.”

She scoffs at that. “I´m warning you then, you should think twice. This is not my first time going against a bunch of abusive idiots, and I wouldn´t like to be the abusive one either.”

But as a response to her warning, the man just chuckles, crossing his arms over the chest. “Ha! Is that so? We´ll see, beautiful.”

Before she can respond, a chill runs down Jill's spine as she senses danger. She reacts instinctively, just barely sidestepping in time to avoid a man trying to grab her from behind in a surprise attack, countering his ill intention with a deadly and precise strike of her weapon. Her rapier, a blur of steel, sinks deep into her attacker's chest.

“Aaaagghh!!”

“Brother!” One of the men in the back runs towards them, his expression grim at the sight of that much blood, while the first bandit, seemingly the leader, screams at the rest.

“Get her! Don´t let her escape!”

As the bandit rushes to aid his fallen sibling, the remaining men close in on Jill. Their swords glint menacingly in the dim light, but Jill is unfazed. In a swift movement, she spins with the grace of a dancer, dodging their attacks, her rapier moving in a deadly frenzy of steel, slashing at her enemies and opening deadly wounds without resistance. A sharp twist of her wrist, and two more bandits fall, their blood staining the ground.

“Get her! Get her!!”

But no matter how much they try to fetch her, to strike her with their swords, Jill´s movements are swift, precise, her slender body moving like water to avoid the strikes and striking back with ease, no one being able to land a single blow on her, to even touch her clothes, while she draws blood over and over again. When the last man is standing in front of her, she raises her bloodied rapier, her steel blue eyes fixed on the growling man.

“Well? Won´t you come here and seize your prize?”

“You, bitch!” He runs at her, his sword raised up above his head, but as he reaches her, she spins again, avoiding his attack with practiced ease and uses her momentum to slash at his torso, opening a deep wound that leaves him bleeding profusely.

Hearing him fall on the ground, she half turns, looking at the fallen group with contempt in her visage. “Why would you go against me? Is it really that all men are like this? That there´s nothing good to find in you?” She sends a powerful ice attack at the bushes next to her, and an explosion is heard when her attack meets a powerful lightning bolt, and Jill shakes her head, even more so as the man clad in dark blue appears behind the bushes. “Well?”

"Not all men, dear Jill. Not all men, as we've previously discussed." Cid emerges from the bushes, a Cheshire cat grin plastered across his face. He holds his arms out wide, a gesture of peace and reassurance.

Jill growls, moving her free hand forward as if to attack him. “And as we talked before, that only means yes, all men, or are you really going to tell your daughter such a lie?”

“No. I´ll always tell my daughter she has to be careful and paranoid with every single man.”

“See now the hypocrisy of your words?” She sighs again, lowering her hand and walking towards him while sheathing her beloved weapon. “What are you doing here, Cid? I thought I had made it clear I don´t need you around to protect me.”

He shakes his head, hands over his waist as he walks to meet her.

"I wasn't following you, I swear I waited more than an hour to let you get to Northreach in advance," he insists, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "It's just that your snail's pace journey, and what I saw of many monster corpses along the path, made it impossible to avoid catching up with you."

“And you worrying about me doesn´t have anything to do with it, right?”

He shrugs. “Well, yes, I worry, though I must admit that looking at your prowess really makes me feel safer.”

“Are you really not accepting you´ve been following me?”

He sighs deeply. “Okay, fine. I was worried about you. Happy now? But before you get all angry on me, let me first apologize for doubting you, especially now that I can see the high level of your skill. But, can you really blame a father for thinking that his daughter would be in a better world, if he were to worry about another young, beautiful woman?”

Jill crosses her arms over her chest. “Something tells me this is not about your daughter anymore.”

He raises a finger at her, surprised again at her keen senses. “Ah! You got me there. It´s not only Mid I´m worried about, but another woman. Or was… no longer able to do anything about it…”

A delicate eyebrow raises. “Another woman?”

His eyes get tainted by a flicker of pain, one that she notices immediately. “Yes, a woman I couldn´t protect. Would it be so weird if I felt better with myself if I tried to do something for you now, when I can´t do anything for her anymore?”

His eyes, previously teasing, now seem to dive into darker paths, and Jill´s heart ache for him. “Cid… I´m sorry…”

But the man shakes his hand in a dismissive way. “Nah, no need to. It´s a story I might tell you about, someday. So, what now? Will you send me all on my own, with my tail between my legs?”

She looks up to the dark sky, angered at her treacherous heart that it´s making her feel sorry for him. But she still resists. “Men can´t be that empathic.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture that belies the empathy in his eyes. "Well, I'm sure everything that happened to you was absolutely terrible, and you must understandably hate mankind. Yet, I hold onto a glimmer of hope that there are still good men out there, men who could prove you wrong. A little, tiny, winy percent of men who have an honest good heart. After all, you have guys like Clive to prove you how wrong you could be about judging us all.”

Jill raises her chin high in defiance. “It´s a hell of a bet.”

He shrugs again. “Well, I know the horrible man that taught you how to fight with such determination wasn´t sunshine and rainbows. And yet, here you are, alive and powerful, thanks to his tortures.”

Jill´s glare is deep again. “You don´t really mean to suggest I should be grateful for those bastards, right? That´s not even funny at all.”

“Nor I´m trying to be. Look, Jill,” Cid scratches the back of his neck, growing frustrated, “I just want you to be okay, if only because I´m a selfish prick who can´t stand another woman suffering because I did nothing. Call it an absolutely selfish act, if you must. I just want to feel like I could do something for you, especially now that I´m taking you to meet your horrible death.”

Jill raises a delicate eyebrow at his declaration, surprised at the honesty behind it, and looks intently at the man, searching for the lie, for the hidden truth. But, after dozens of seconds, she just chuckles, shaking her head.

“Well, now that you mention it, I might be worried too about you getting into trouble, old man, and who would be there to save you? I really don’t want your blood in my hands for not walking the path with you. I, too, worry of what Clive would think of me.”

He chuckles, as he offers her his arm to hold. “You got me, princess. Shall we?”

She glares at the offering, but then sighs deeply and complies, hooking her hand in the inside of his arm, thinking that maybe, just maybe… not all men…

“Fine, then. Take me to a place where an old man like you can rest peacefully tonight. I´ll make sure you sleep without worrying of being attacked by bandits.”

Cid scoffs at her words. “My lady in shiny armor. What else can I ask for life?”

And with that, they both walk away from the bandit´s corpses, Cid´s thoughts going to that despicable man who taught Jill to be resilient.

And deadly.

Chapter Text

Awaiting her dire destiny in the luxurious room at the only brothel of Mount Drustanus, Jill sits at the edge of the opulent bed, her heart pounding like a drum against her ribs. Her arms, bound by the cruel magical handcuffs, ache with a dull throb, while her steel blue eyes look around the place, feeling this room like a gilded cage, cornering her in its lavishing embrace.

She´s trapped, once again, between the four walls of this prison of golden walls and sweet smells, a prisoner of satin and honeyed deceit, awaiting the arrival of a general, of an officer, of a powerful man, or whoever wants to meet – and touch - the Dominant monster. Each visitor, a predator drawn by her beauty, seeks to uncover her true nature—whether she is a monstrous creature, or a deceptive enchantress capable to bewitch any man.

Of all the things they could be saying about her.

She sighs as she sits on the bed, self-deprecation filling her heart once more. From being the beloved princess of the Northern Kingdom, to a mere ward, to a terrifying monster, to a… even less than a prostitute, actually, because at least prostitutes get paid…

She looks down at herself, at all of her porcelain skin the dress is letting show, and sighs heavily. “Well… at least I´m bathed and well fed…”

They bathed her in scented waters, a cruel mockery of her captivity. Then, they clothed her in a crimson and gold gown, a stark contrast to the rags she usually wears. Even though it´s not pompous and it´s very showing, at least feels better against her skin than the ragged clothes she´s forced to wear every day. They let her have a sense of normalcy that she hasn’t had in so much time.

But at a very high cost…

She sits on the comfy bed, working her mind to survive this day when a sudden creak interrupts her thoughts. She springs to her feet, her eyes narrowing as she meets the gaze of the intruder. A tall, blond man, exuding an aura of confidence and power, steps into the room. His eyes, a piercing blue, bore into hers, and she feels a shiver run down her spine. Looking in his fifties and dressed in a rather loose-fitting suit, he walks in with ease and confidence, carrying around him an air of elegance in his movements. His sky-blue eyes look intently at her for a moment, and then he shakes his head.

“I specifically told them not to leave you the handcuffs.”

She scoffs, trying to hide her apprehension. “I believe they fear I could freeze you to death.” She scolds herself inwardly for her unnecessarily witty retort. Oh, well, it´s already said.

He raises an eyebrow at her response. “Have you ever frozen anyone?” She hesitates at his question. Everybody knows of the nobleman she killed… “During combat, I mean.”

Oh.

Jill lowers her head at her inutility. “No…”

“See? No need.” He gives a few steps towards her but she recoils, her eyes doubtful. He raises his palms in a conciliating gesture. “I mean no harm, girl, I promise. I just want to take those handcuffs off of you.”

But her glare intensifies. “Many men, right under this roof, have promised me the same…”

He sighs deeply and puts both hands on his waist, looking sadly at her. “Yeah… I know. And I know that no matter what I tell you, no words will change your appreciation of me. Unfortunately, I can´t go out now, because of… reasons. Plus, you might need both hands to eat what I brought you.”

He steps to the side, letting her see how a man, a servant, enters with a tray with a copious meal in his hands. She opens her eyes wide, her stomach already doing gurgling sounds that make her blush intensely and the man to chuckle.

“I imagined as much.” He waits patiently for the servant to leave them alone again, neither Jill nor him doing any sound, and as soon as the door is closed, he returns his intense blue eyes at her. “So, would you let me liberate you so that you can eat?”

Her heart is pounding against her chest now, much too eager to eat but scared in the same intensity. “What type of ruse is this?”

He chuckles again. “For someone in your position, your belligerence impresses me. I had thought Sören and his men had already taken such hostility and vibrancy from you, what with their… er… submissive techniques. I´m glad to know they couldn´t break you. At least not completely.”

A delicate eyebrow rises at his words. “You… are not one of Sören´s men.”

He scoffs. “Certainly not, my child. I am indeed a general of the Ironblood army, general Ullr, at your service.” He bows his head and she opens her eyes wide at his action.

“A general…”

“At Sören´s level, actually. So no, I´m not submitted to him, so you don´t have anything to worry about.”

But she remains in silence yet, her eyes still evaluating him, waiting for a movement from him. He smiles at that and gives another step to the side, giving some more space in between him and the tray in the table.

“Well? Would you like some?”

She looks alternatively from him to the tray, not deciding what to do. But in the end, hunger is greater than fear and she complies, only nodding and walking slowly towards him, her eyes never leaving his face. He only nods without moving any further, trying not to scare her. Patiently, he awaits until she stands at his level and, much too slowly, she turns around, offering him her back but twisting her neck as much as possible, trying not to lose sight of him. The general wants to laugh at her guarded attitude, reminding him of a recently born deer or puppy… if it weren´t for the fact he´s well aware from which actions is that mistrust coming from.

“Don’t worry. I´m not gonna hurt you.”

“Many men have said…”

“…the same words, I know. But since I don´t have any other way to probe you otherwise, you´ll have to be submitted by my constant pledge. I´m sorry for not being as smart as the Dhalmekians or Sanbrequois regarding of their ability to speak with women. But, as you can see, I might not be as savage as the average Ironblood.”

She blushes at that but, before she can protest, he moves behind her and, working as fast as he can, liberates her wrists. She moans at the pain the opening of the handcuffs produces on her bruised skin, but she immediately jumps to the side, her eyes furious and her posture a defensive one. The man only raises an eyebrow.

“Is this the way you always receive your guests?”

She seethes at his words. “They´re not my guests, I´m not here by choice. And I will never be.”

He crosses his arms over his chest as he smirks. “You mean to tell me that each man who wants you, has to defeat you?”

She lowers into a fighting stance, one hand raised defensively in front of her, the other poised at her waist, ready to strike.

“Just try it and I´ll kill you. I´m a monster, right? And a Dominant at that.”

He laughs so heartedly that he makes her blush. “Oh, by the crystals!! And please do tell, how many of the officers, or your guests, have run away from you at the sight of this… quarrelsome attitude of yours?”

“T-that´s… none of your concern!”

He stops laughing and gives a step forward, looking intently at her body, and she growls, almost feral.

“Don´t you dare come any closer or I´ll beat you up!”

"I suppose such an attitude might deter the faint of heart," he muses, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "But perhaps, unintentionally, it attracts a different kind of man. A man who sees you not as a fragile creature to be protected, but as a challenge to be conquered. A dangerous game, indeed, and, I can imagine, one that ends up actually hurting you during this sick game.”

“It doesn´t matter… as long as I can discourage as many as I can, and hurt back as many others, I´ll keep on fighting.”

His smirk widens. “Is that so?”

Her chin lifts, a defiant gesture against the impending pain. Her heart, a captive drum, pounds relentlessly against her ribs. Fear gnaws at her, knowing exactly what´s coming next, but she refuses to yield.

“Yes, yes it is.”

He eyes her once more, his eyes roaming over her figure, over her posture, even tilting his head a little, until he moves like a blur, grasping the delicate wrist tightly with one hand while with the other arm hooks it in her elbow, painfully twisting it in at her back with a swift motion, the gentle but firm pull upwards makes her shoulder ache and brings her down to her knees, extracting a yell from her. Of pain or surprise, she doesn´t know.

“Now, how are you going to stop me from doing anything I want with you?”

“L-let me… let me go…!” Doubled over herself, she still tries to look at him over her shoulder, but each movement brings forth pain, though she notices it´s her struggling, not his pulling, the one hurting her.

“I assure you, it´s almost impossible for someone like you to liberate yourself from this key.”

She´s panting in pain now, but also in frustration, thinking of ways to hurt him the moment he gets closer to her body, when all of a sudden, the general pushes her hard and then just lets go of her arm, giving a few step backwards.

“Now, do you insist in resisting?”

She turns around to face him, standing up slowly as her eyes glare intensely at him. “I will always resist you, and any of your kind.”

He crosses his arms over the chest and nods, his eyes serious, as she takes the same position, even when her shoulder hurt. Then, he suddenly moves, nothing but a step closer to her but the fast motion puts her in alert. She gives one step backward and raises her hands, trying to not be taken by surprise this time, and he smirks.

“Good… I´m glad you didn´t give up. Now, open up your legs a little bit wider. They´re… well, too close. If I move again, it´d be easy for me to throw you off.”

Jill raises her eyebrow. “What?”

“Just do as I say.”

She looks down at herself and, thinking how stupid it is, she still moves her foot to separate from the other.

“Great, now double your knees over, just a little bit, so that you can move faster and stronger from any position.”

“What are you planning?”

“You´ll see it soon. Now, would you be so kind as to do it?”

“What if I refuse?”

He moves quickly again, kicking her shin with a precise movement that both draws a scream from her and makes her lose her balance, sending her crashing to the floor.

“That´s what happens.” He offers his hand to her. “Now, would you be so kind?”

Eying him wearily, she takes his hand to pull herself up and, hesitant at first, she widens her stance again and bends her knees slightly. He smiles, makes the same move and, though she stumbles, she notices his attack doesn´t have the same result.

“There. Now will you listen to me?”

But she´s still doubtful. “Why are you doing this?”

He looks straight to her eye. “Why? Well, do you prefer the alternative? Because I get bored easily, and taking you like my countrymen do won´t mean a real effort from my part.”

Jill opens her eyes wide in fear, and gives a step backward. “N… no…”

Watching the crystal fear in her steely eyes, Ullr sighs. It´s no use to be this secretive, at least not if he wants her to cooperate. With that thought in mind, he straightens his posture and tries to look the least aggressive he can.

“Look, girl. There´s a reason why a general came to you, besides the obvious, and why we are here. Of course I won´t give you the details, but you must already know what Father Imreann seeks in you.”

“To… to transform an abomination into his monster…”

Ullr nods slowly, his expression grim. Yes, those are precisely the kind of words the High Priests would use, and he can only imagine the insidious things they are doing to her mind, to her very soul. Could he say something, do something, to counter their insidious influence?

“While that might be true, and I´m ordered to teach you the skills to become a magnificent swordswoman, I hate the way they´re treating you, even if you wouldn´t believe me. Thus, if you´d allow me, I can teach you as well how to survive. How to use your Eikon to keep you alive enough to resist this imprisonment. Up until you can break free.”

Jill´s eyes open wide at his words, and she stretches as well. “Are you… telling me the truth? How can I trust you´re not lying to me?”

He folds his arms across his chest, a contemplative frown marring his features. "I suppose I can't prove my honesty to you, nor can I guarantee my intentions. But I can promise you one thing: regardless of the monster I may become, you will learn everything I know, every technique, every secret. You will emerge from this stronger, more capable, and more worthy."

“Worthy… of Shiva…”

Ullr smiles at the way her eyes shine. At least something he said finally made it through.

“Yes, certainly, worthy of Shiva. Well? Would you like that, even when I can´t assure you I´m a good man?”

She raises a delicate eyebrow. “But why here? Why not in the training grounds?”

“Would you like it better to train under that horrible heat?”

“N-no… but…”

“Would you like Sören to know more hands, other than his, are training you?”

Jill's eyes widen in terror, her mind racing. She envisions the punishment a man like general Sören, a man consumed by pride and rage, would do if he finds out he´s got competence. The thought sends a shiver down her spine, a cold dread settling in her stomach.

“N… no…”

“Then, say no more, and let´s get to it. I already told them you´re with Father Imreann, so no one will question us nor bother us, especially because he has, indeed, spent much time with you as of late, thus it won´t look suspicious. If that´s not enough to convince you, think about this: you´re risking your life and your sanity with this bet, indeed, but aren´t they already compromised?”

She hesitates at his words again. He is offering her a bet, one that could leave her heart and her body with more scars on the downside. But what she would win…

“Become worthy of her…”

She raises her chin high. She´s not much for bets, but this time, the stakes are a lot more on her favor. “I´m… not sure I should accept, but at least I can try. If you betray me though…”

He rolls his eyes as if to diminish her concerns and then shrugs. “Shiva can rip me off limb by limb. I wouldn´t mind to have her touching me at all, even if it is to kill me, so I´m okay with that.” Before she can respond to such words, he raises his hands, almost to mimic her previous posture. “Now then, I´ll put my hand in here, and won´t move it. Just grab my wrist as I did yours.”

She hesitates, but eventually does as ordered. The rest is another blur of motion. As soon as her palm touches the skin of his wrist, he covers her whole hand with his other, larger one and, in a movement she can´t read, he spins his trapped arm using hers like an axis and twists it at her back, the sudden pain making her fall on her knees again and forcing another yelp of surprise to escape from her lips.

“Did you see what I did?”

Grunting, she tries to look at him from above her shoulder. “N-no… not really…”

“Well, if you allow me, I can teach you how to.”

Jill bends further over herself, feeling the pain, but also fighting to hide the broad grin that is drawn upon her lips, fighting her own desire to jump up and yell, beg, plea, demand him, he would teach her such movements.

With an enormous effort, she barely whispers a “yes, please…” to the man.

He lets go of her arm and gives a couple of steps away from her, letting her stand up once more. “Good. Pay attention then. This time I´ll do it slower. When you feel ready, take my wrist again.”

She stands up slowly, now both shoulders feeling sore, but bearing a determined expression on her face.

Much later, after her stomach is blissfully full and the general has left her on her own, does she realize this is going to be the first night after more than a decade that she gets to sleep in a comfy, warm bed, without fear invading her mind, neither dire humiliation nor excruciating pain assaulting her whole being.

oooooooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooo

After an hour of arriving at Oriflame´s most famous Bordello, Jill huffs, pressing her back against the wall, almost as if she´s trying to become a wallflower, while she looks at her brothers in arms doing very… male things.

Clive is sitting over the only table they have in the room, trying to figure out the map of the city that Isobel lent him. And Cid… well… he´s snuggly accommodated in the comfy sofa he claimed as his, right after they had discussed his magnificent plan for destroying Drake´s Head´s Mothercrystal. One which Clive and herself have very much doubts of. But since his plan is actually the only plausible one, now the man is sitting nonchalantly, almost snoring in his comfortable position, as if he had not a care in the world.

The bastard.

The cacophony of sounds coming from every wall shatters her resilience, bringing Jill´s pacing into a final standstill. Anxiety, a relentless beast, gnaws at her. The room, created as a place of comfort, for her it feels oppressive, a claustrophobic tomb. Suppressed memories, dark and menacing, claw their way to the surface of her mind, as she remembers the times she had to erect an iron wall around her heart, a shield against the world's brutality.

“Chill out, Jill.” Cid scoffs, taking her out of her thoughts plummeting into despair. “As I said, this is the safest place to be.”

Her gaze, a dagger of ice, pierces him. She can't fault him, though, not truly; he's a warrior after all, a man of action, and for that, he can't possibly fathom the depths of her suffering, the horrors she endured as a prisoner of war.

A guttural moan pierces the silence, followed by a crescendo of passionate cries. Jill's irritation flares, a stark contrast to the sensual symphony playing out on the other side of the wall.

“Really, Cid? Why did you have to drag me inside this place? Why couldn´t we choose somewhere, anywhere else to be?”

“Because wherever we chose, we wouldn´t be as safe as in here, princess.”

Another lewd sound reaches her ears, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. Does he have any idea of the toll this place is taking on her? This place is a blight on her soul, a constant reminder of the horrors she's suffered, and she growls, feeling her control over her emotions escaping through her fingers like sand.

“Jill…” Always attentive to her every mood, Clive is the first to notice her plight and approaches her, extending a hand to touch her, to comfort her, but she recoils, much too sensitive with the ambience to allow any type of male contact.

Even if it comes from Clive.

“Please, don´t…” She hates herself for making those puppy eyes becoming so sad at her violent rejection… but she doesn´t have the strength, nor the patience to comfort him now. Not now. A loud scream, most likely from a faked orgasm, is heard across the hallway, and Jill growls, feeling her tolerance depleting completely. “Okay, I´m done, I´m out of here.”

“Jill, we need you here.” From his comfy perch on the sofa, Cid tries to speak to her, and the woman only turns around, seething and glaring intensely at the older man, her eyes flashing in blue as the veins in her face illuminate in a bluish hue.

“No, you don´t.” The more she speaks, the more her soft voice merges with that of Shiva, the sound coming out ethereal. “We´ve talked plenty about the mission and the plan. I believe there´s nothing left to discuss… and nothing else to say.”

“Jill…”

“What?!” She turns to Clive so fast that she startles him, her glare and her feral gesture reminding him of the enormous panther the Republican Army uses as their most powerful weapon, and the sight of her aggressive demeanor doesn´t let him decide whether he should feel scared, or proud.

“You´re… priming…”

Slowly, as she senses the power running through her veins, Jill realizes her mistake and closes her eyes, fighting to gain back her control. “I´m… sorry…”

“It´s okay, Jill, we understand, right Cid?” Clive turns to look intently at Cid but he only looks at them with resolution in his stare.

“Yes, Jill, we understand. Forgive me, though, we still aren´t moving.”

Clive glares at the man but Jill just turns around and walks out of the door, out of the room, while Cid sighs deeply and lowers his head in sadness. For he knows, he truly understands. But this time, there´s nothing he can do for her.

Jill walks the hallway with swift steps, her eyes seeing nothing but the invading images of her past, and without meaning to, she forcibly pushes a woman on her way out.

“Hey!”

“My apologies.” She says in a low voice, with the little control she has left.

Unfortunately, out on the hallway the sounds are even louder, and she has to use all her willpower not to put both hands over her ears, nor start a full sprint. She still has to feign nonchalance, has to pass unperceived, even though her stomach is revolving as a visceral reaction of her own desperation.

She has to pretend the deviant stares, the heavy smells and treacherous laughter don´t bring forth thousands of horrible images, memories, assaulting her mind and her heart.

"Hello, beautiful. Do you want any company?" A woman, not older than herself, smiles widely at her, a mask hiding the weariness in her eyes. Jill sees through the façade, though, noticing the subtle signs of distress: the rigid posture, the lack of movement, the dullness in her gaze. It's clear that the previous client had been less than gentle with her.
Unfortunately, Jill can understand such distress more than she would´ve liked to.
“No… thank you… I´m sorry…” Jill walks faster, but wherever she goes, she sees young women, old women, even teens, looking at her with curious glances. And what she sees in them is beyond their beautiful dresses, their sensual act. She can easily see the pain, the hurt, the loss, the despair. She´s well aware there are a few that have chosen such a life, but she can easily distinguish between those, and those suffering for not having any other choice.

Just like she didn´t have.

She bursts through the crowd, her desperation fueling her every step. Then, she sees her. A child, no older than eight, her innocent face framed by golden curls. The girl, dressed in the attire of an adult, is a grotesque parody of womanhood. Jill's heart stops, her breath held, as she stares in shock and horror.

After a moment, the girl finally notices her, senses her hesitation, her gaze landing on Jill. A spark of recognition flickers in her eyes as she takes in Jill's elegant attire, and a wide, innocent smile spreads across her face.

"Hello! Are you a princess?" She asks, her voice filled with childlike wonder.

Jill gives a step backward, absolutely stunned, especially at the provocative smile the girl sends her now, when a large hand takes her by the arm, turning her around and, with another hand pressed over her waist, forces her to lean against the wall, her state of shock not letting her react at all at the intrusive touch. Clive´s hands are firm against her body, but gentle, without hurting her, his body close to hers as if to shield her from everyone´s prying eyes, as well as not letting her escape.

“It´s okay, Jill. I´m here. We´re doing this together, right? You don´t have to run away anymore.”

But Jill can´t truly hear him, as her attention is fully on the little form at their side, her eyes refusing to leave the child who, at seeing her unresponsiveness, merely shrugs and looks the other way, evidently waiting for someone to take her to their room. Clive inclines, trying to put himself in the woman´s line of vision.

“Jill?”

“They are girls, Clive… nothing but little girls…”

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“The girl…” She moves her head and he turns around, seeing the little kid who smiles at him as well.

“By the Founders…”

Jill's gaze, heavy with sorrow, finally breaks away from her. "They are... using kids, Clive," she whispers, her voice barely a breath. "Exploiting them for their vile purposes. I was... I was her age when we three played in Rosalith's gardens. Clive... I was that age when your father first took me and Joshua to Eastpool to see you train!" Even when she struggles against it, in the end she can´t prevent tears from welling in her eyes, and her body trembles as the weight of the past crashes down upon her. The memory of her own innocence, shattered by the cruelties of war, by the Ironblood infinite torture, is now intertwined with the image of this child, forced to endure a similar fate at a much younger age than her.

Clive's gaze, fixed too on the innocent face in front of him, blurs the lines of time and space. He sees not the girl before him, but a younger Jill, his childhood friend, pure and full of life. He can only see the carefree, beautiful sister he used to protect, the one with laughter lines and sun-kissed skin, superimposed onto this girl's form.

And now he understands Jill´s tremors.

“Oh… Jill… I´m sorry…” He turns his attention back to the Dominant in front of him, sensing her body trembling so close to his, and he wants nothing but to hug her tightly against his chest, comfort her as when he used to when they were in Rosalith; but he hesitates, as usual, not wanting to invade her personal space further. With her head inclined forward, his eyes cannot see her face beyond her silver bangs, cannot find the proof of her suffering, so he chooses to offer the one thing he can do for her. His help. “What do you want me to do?”

She puts a hand over her face, her shoulders still shaking, but at least, the smell of his skin seems to be having a soothing effect on her, grounding her.

“I… I don´t know…”

He looks back at the girl, who now seems bored and, letting go of the woman´s waist, he walks towards the child, kneeling in front of her.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Bright green eyes look back at him with curiosity. “Not really, I had a client but the madam told me he won´t be coming. I wanted to play a little, but the madam told me no, that I have to find another one. So, I´m waiting to see if I can find a new client.”

“Clive…” Jill calls him over to stop him, but he raises a hand to ask her to wait.

“Can it be anyone?”

The kid shrugs. “I guess… the madam just said I had to find one.”

“Would you like to come with us?”

“Clive!”

The girl returns curious eyes to the woman´s form, like evaluating her, and then points her finger at Jill. “Will she come too?”

Clive turns to look at Jill over his shoulder. “Yes, of course. If you want to, she´ll come with us.”

"Is she a princess?" Jill's heart shatters as she gazes into the girl's hopeful eyes. She stifles a sob, her hand trembling as she covers her mouth. Clive, ever the observer, offers the girl a reassuring smile.

“Yes, she is a princess. A very beautiful and magical princess, coming from a faraway land. Would you like to meet her?”

The girl looks hesitant at the entrance. “But… the madam told me to wait here…”

“Don´t worry. I´ll tell the madam you found a better costumer.”

The girl turns to look at Jill again, and then flashes her a smile as she nods her approval. “Okay, but only if the princess comes with us too.”

“Agreed.” In a blur of motion, Clive scoops the child into his arms, and carries her to Jill´s, placing her gently in the Dominant´s waiting arms. “Take her to our room. I´ll make sure no one seeks her out.”

“But Clive…”

He shakes his head, a reassuring smile on his face. “Don’t worry, Jill, I already had to go fetch dinner. Might as well fetch one more too.”

Jill looks at the kid, gulping down the tears as she feels the fragile, slim body against her own, and can´t help but smile at her through tears in her eyes.

“Would you like my friend to fetch you some food? And maybe candy?”

The girl´s smile can´t be brighter. “Yes! I´ll very much like it so!” Jill chuckles at that, but is startled when Clive´s calloused thumb cleans the drying tears off her face, utter tenderness dripping from the warm gesture.

“Fine, then, I´ll fetch some delicious candies for these two beautiful princesses. But no more tears, alright? And no more escaping.”

It´s Jill´s turn to smile sweetly. “Don´t worry, I won´t.”

Clive's gaze is fixed onto the woman cradling the child, his eyes tracing the stark contrast in her expression. Her eyes, a minute ago clouded with a haunting sorrow, now radiate a serene warmth as they rest upon the kid. This stark transformation fills him with a bittersweet mix of comfort and despair. He recognizes the familiar pattern, the haunted look in Jill's eyes, a stark reminder of her troubled past with the Ironblood he´s starting to guess. A heavy sigh escapes his lips as he contemplates the weight of her experiences.

A sudden hand upon her waist startles the woman, but as she´s about to protest the unwelcomed touch, she´s met with midnight blue eyes filled with such intensity she cannot even think properly.

“Don´t worry, Jill. You won´t have to do anything you don´t want to, ever again. I´ll make sure of that.”

Jill is left speechless at his out of the blue declaration, but her last smile, before he turns around, seem like a fleeting flicker of light in the darkness, echoing the visage of the little girl he once swore to protect.

-----------------------------

Inside their shared room, both males have their backs against the wall, arms crossed over the chest, both watching the young woman sitting at the bed, singing a lullaby to the blonde girl after they all had an abundant meal. They both remain silent and observant, but while Clive´s eyes look at the stylish figure with something akin to adoration, Cid´s are more on the worried, exasperated side.

“This is not good, Clive.”

Clive hushes him. “The girl is falling asleep, Cid. You should let her.”

Grunting in disapproval, Cid still complies and is whispering now, but the urgency in his voice still lingers. “This is not good, Clive.” Unfortunately for him, his voice, though whispered, still is thunderous, and Jill turns to glare at him, making him growl. Clive slaps Cid in the chest and walks him out of the room and into the small living room.

“Look, Cid, I know it´s a minor step back…”

“Minor step back?? Are you both crazy?! Bringing a girl into this? You both are well aware of where we are going now, right?”

Clive agrees with the man, but he is determined not to turn back. Not after watching Jill´s smile. “I paid for the girl to linger here the rest of the night, it shouldn´t be a problem. Besides, we must surely would need to return to a place after the fight, and we don´t know in what conditions we´ll be returning. Having a room already rented for all of us with all the security you speak of, will actually help our cause, right?”

Cid shakes his head, because he can´t argue with that. “And where the hell did you get money from?”

“I have my ways.”

“Seriously? And what about the girl once we return from the mission?”

Clive sighs as he turns to see Jill through the half-closed door. “I don´t know. I just paid her services for the night, so it would mean she´s safe tonight. But knowing Jill, I´m sure she´ll want to take the girl with us back to the Hideaway.”

“Take her??”

Clive eyes the man intently. “You have to accept the kid is much too young for this type of things.”

Cid crosses his arms over his chest as he sighs heavily, knowing he very much agrees with the kids. But still... “We can´t save everyone, Clive, and you both know it.”

“Isn´t our mission precisely that? Trying to save everyone?”

Cid shakes his head. How stubborn can these two be? “You´re not gonna let this go, right?”

Clive looks back at the bed, his eyes tracing the curve of Jill´s silhouette, a silent appreciation of the woman who has become his light in the darkness. As he watches her coax the child to sleep, her smile, a radiant beacon, mirrors the warmth that has filled his own heart.

"When I saw that child, I couldn't help but think of Jill at that age, a time filled with innocence and joy. I remember Joshua and I playing with her in Rosalith, taking her on countless adventures, making her the center of our world. We were nothing but happy and carefree, cherishing every moment spent with her. And I'm certain Jill saw a reflection of her own past in that girl. After everything she endured at the hands of the Ironbloods, is it any wonder she'd want to protect this innocent child?"

Cid too looks at Jill´s gleaming expression and sighs heavily once more, but a smile is plastered in his face too.

“I´m still impressed at the girl guessing Jill is actually a princess.”

Clive shrugs, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Even as children, Jill always carried herself with an air of royalty. My mother, with her insistence on etiquette lessons, only seemed to amplify that innate grace. It would seem not even the Ironbloods could take that away.” He sighs deeply as he leans further in the wall. “You should see her fighting. Whatever she wears, even if it´s those Ironholm ragged clothes, she looks like an ice queen: regal, ethereal and beautiful…”

Cid looks at the forlorn eyes of the man and chuckles, but doesn´t disagree at all.

“I don´t know why I get the feeling I´m going to repent over this, but fine, we´ll pick her up as soon as we return from… our little mission.”

Clive punches Cid´s arm playfully. “I can assure you, you´ll make Jill very happy.”

“Yes, because that´s my biggest mission in life…” Clive chuckles at the sarcasm and Cid turns to leave the room, though his smile lingers.

Well, at least this pair got the idea… even if a little twisted than the original…