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Chapter Text

I still have a hard time recounting it all. The memories are still rocky, events are still blurred. It’s as though all of the contents of my past had been dumped into some never-ending whirlpool. I remember quite a bit before “The Blackness”, as I call it. That is, some point in time where something must have happened to me, a point in time to which all prior events have been completely erased from memory.

    What I do remember is dark. There was a lot of suffering, starving, loneliness. It all began in a very cold place. Whether or not I was born there, I cannot say. I just know that what I remember, it all started there. I wasn’t there for long though, and the memories, though not entirely gone, are extremely muddled. I can’t even give names, faces. I remember I was hiding; I don’t know why, I just knew that I needed to hide if I wanted to live. I didn’t know where my family was, where home was, where I was...who I was. I think I was about twelve...maybe younger…

   Lyra sighed. Frustration overcame her and she put down her quill.

   What’s the point? I don’t know why I try, she thought. I’ll never remember it all, much less sort it out.

  She thought that maybe, just maybe this would help take her mind off things. Father Iliud had bid her rest for the night, and Alphinaud certainly insisted upon it before they headed to Gridania in the morning. But she couldn’t sleep when her ever-buzzing mind refused silence. She thought of Cid. How lucky he was. He seemed to remember so suddenly. At least he remembered; at least it was finally coming back to him.

   It was all too much. She felt so alone. The events, seeing so many dead comrades, had awoken something inside of her. A flicker from her past, an all too awful familiarity. Oh, her friends, her dear friends. All of them were gone, perhaps even dead. If only she had hurried back to Minfilia a little sooner…she might have…have…

  Lyra lay her head down on the paper. She couldn’t give up hope; not now, when she had come this far. She was going to bring her friends back. They had become the closest thing to family for her. They had to still be alive. She wouldn’t lose her family, not again.

   A light tap at the door made her start. She took a split moment to clear her voice, carefully ensuring she portrayed a calm tone.

   “One moment please,” she said.

    The delivery was successful.  She made to open the door, which revealed a short, white-haired boy bearing a look of slight concern.

   “Alphinaud.” She smiled warmly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

    “Forgive me,” he said. “I would not have disturbed you otherwise, but I noticed your light was still on. Are you well?”

    “All things considered, I am quite well.” Lyra smiled. “I simply am unable to sleep. Far too many things dance across my mind’s stage, demanding ultimate attention. And now, the knowledge of yet another adventure has taken center stage as well. I fear I may be unable to abide by your request. Unfortunately, such things are sometimes just out of my control.”

    “I see. Forgive me for my bluntness, but mayhap if you were to turn out the light, lie down even, you might find the task a little easier….” he paused seeming discontent with the way he chose his words and immediately retreated.  “I suppose, however, that I should be pleased that you rest, however you decide to do so. As long as you are not out and about, mayhap it does count as resting.”

     “Indeed.” She smiled. “I give you my word, Alphinaud, I will turn out the light and attempt to sleep. I just need a little more time for some preparations. Mayhap, I will even sort out some things in my mind.”

     She caught his gaze, his expression looked unconvinced.

     “Really, Alphinaud. Do not worry yourself over me. I assure you I am well.”

     “It’s just…it only recently occurred to me that I had not considered what you might be going through. I simply stepped forth and assigned you your next mission without so much as a thought about how you may be feeling. If for any reason you…”

     “No rest for the righteous, my friend. As Father Iliud said, though rest may be ideal, the world needs saving. You have done no wrong. I promise you, I am well.”

     Acting only came naturally to Lyra, and she smiled most sincerely.

     “Of course…I…very well. Just please, do try to get some sleep before morning. Good night.” he nodded and walked towards his chambers.

     “Good night.”

       Lyra closed the door. Mayhap, he is right, she thought. I should just give it up and go to bed. She turned out her light and settled herself under the covers of her bed. After staring up into the blackness, thoughts and worries racing, she finally managed to fall asleep.

      She didn’t know how long she had slept, nor what time it was when she suddenly jolted up in bed. She had just awoken from a most curious dream. With it fresh in mind, she felt the sudden urge to write it all down, quickly before she forgot. She jumped up, lit her lamp, and sat back down at the small desk.

     It was a particularly cold night. The snow fell in a great white sheet. The wind blew without mercy. I had just barely escaped death, the men in armor. I knew it was no longer safe here. I had to go. I needed to get past the barrier. But I didn’t know how. I was hiding in a dark corner, back under the city. I curled up, lying in the snow, and buried my face in my knees, trying so hard to retain what little body heat I had left. I was hurt, but it was nothing serious. I had to get away…I had to…survive.

     I gasped and jumped at the footsteps I heard approaching me.

    “No, please…" I said weakly.

    My body betrayed me. I could not possibly move. It would not yield to my mind’s commands to flee. My body heat was the only thing that successfully got away, the bloody openings in my body providing the easiest points of escape.

   “I will not hurt you, my friend,” a familiar voice said, though it was much softer than the demand it had given earlier.

  It hurt so much to move, but very slowly, with every last bit of strength, I lifted my head from my knees, my eyes meeting his…. though I cannot see their color now.

“It’s you,” I said, though it was barely audible.

     He had just saved my life. Yes, I remember now. I had gone above, looking for something...I did…something…I…stole? Yes, I was so hungry...it smelled so good… Anyway, they had started screaming and yelling “It’s her! That’s the little shite! Seize her!”

     Of course, I ran. I ran, and I ran, and I ran. I ducked into a very small opening, and they charged right past me. I had successfully evaded them, again. But I knew I would not be so lucky next time. My time here had run out. I needed to seek a new place. I took a moment to catch my breath and let out a sigh of relief. I crawled out of my hiding place, back out into the open. I was just about to head back below when a pair of strong arms engulfed both of mine, which were quite small and feeble. I gasped as I felt my heart sink deep into my stomach.

     “Look who we have here!” said a gruff, deep voice.

     “It’s the blood scum, herself!” said another voice, equally as deep and rough.

     “Who in the seven hells do you think you are? You dare even breathe the same air as us? You are not even worth the consideration of a servant! That’s how low you are, you filthy rat!” spat the first voice.

     And alas…. I cannot see their faces…. I cannot remember who they were or why they were so important. I just remember being tossed to the ground. I remember being kicked around like a sports ball. I remember being beaten. The boy who had spoken first, the one whom I somehow know couldn’t have been much older than fifteen or sixteen, having locked my body between his knees, the weight of his body pressing mine into the snow, then brandished a small silver knife right in front of my face.

     “Now then,” he said. “Why don’t I cut up that pretty little face of yours?” His grin was full of malice.

     I didn’t scream. I just stared him down. My face would not display fear. I simply spat in his eye, which, to my joy, severely infuriated him.

     “Why?” I asked. “Are you so jealous of my pretty face that you have to cut it down so that it may be finally equal to yours? You’ll have to try very hard then, indeed.”

     “Cut that damn tongue of hers out while you’re at it!” cried my attacker’s comrade.

     “Oh, you little weasel. You’re going to wish you’d never been born.”

     Just as he readied to strike…that now familiar voice called out, “That’s enough!”

     Both I and my attacker looked in the direction the voice came from.

     “Release her now, and answer to me,” said a tall, white-haired boy, whose exact features are no more than a muddled mess to me now. I remember he brandished his own silver dagger, poised and ready to strike.

     My attacker simply toppled over, laughing.

     “You?!” he exclaimed in hysteria….

And now the cloud of oblivion again has taken over. I remember naught the exchange of words between the two, but they did fight. I think the attacker’s sidekick fled.

     I do clearly remember the white-haired boy yelling at me, “Run, my friend. Go! I will be alright!”

     Obeying, I had taken off, running as fast as I could. My adrenaline must have been so high; I could not have done what I did otherwise. It was not until I had tripped and rolled down a set of wooden stairs, that the added pain finally made me realize the anguish I was already in. I had crawled into a dark corner, where I had curled up, where this boy had begun to cautiously approach me.

     “Are you alright?” he asked. “It’s okay. No more harm shall come to you…”

    “You saved my life,” I said, my voice dwindling with every word. “Thank…you…”

     The next thing I remember is awaking, feeling much warmer. I was still in a lot of pain, though somehow not as much. The adrenaline and shock had completely dissipated and left me with an utterly distraught body. My head, in particular, was screaming violently. I did not dare open my eyes yet. I was warmer than I had been in a long time. I was tired, and I wanted to remain in this state of what was the closest thing to bliss for as long as I could…I did not want to see where I was...I did not want to know what happened. But, as I readjusted my head, I realized that my would-be pillow…had…a heartbeat. I could hear its breathing as well.

     I slowly opened my eyes. It was semi-dark, dawn was seemingly just on the rise, but I was certain that what my eyes met was an arm. An arm that was wrapped around me, tightly holding some cloth that seemed to be a blanket or a cloak. Slowly, I became aware of where I was. Another arm was wrapped around me, which completed the barrier of warmth, shielding me from the outside elements. I felt a chin, softly resting upon my head, which was resting upon a chest, my ear placed at its beating heart.

     My immediate instinct was to flee, but I had not been held in so long, the warmth of another body comforting my cold, aching one. I tried so hard to imagine my mother or father holding me, or even a dear older sibling. Is this what it would have felt like? The temptation to never move again was overwhelming…I felt…safe…

     However, my stirring must have awoken him too, and he moved away, breaking the blissful shield of warmth. Our eyes met. It was him, the white-haired boy. I feel like I can just barely see his face. He was older than me by about two or three years.

     “You are awake,” he smiled.” You were so cold. I almost feared you might not…” he trailed off.

      “I am in your debt,” I said. “But, remaining here with me was a risk.

     “Mayhap. But simply leaving you alone was not an option. Actually, my options were quite limited. I knew our chirurgeons wouldn’t take you, sadly. I did do my best to patch you up though. I had to run home and…er…borrow a few things…but it’s alright.”

     I examined my wounds. He had, indeed, bandaged up some of the deeper cuts.

     “Thank you,” I said, feeling unending gratitude towards this boy growing. “But please, how could leaving one such as me be so wrong? There is nothing special about me. I am no more than blood scum. I am just a mere rat on a street. You needn’t have concerned yourself with me so.”

     “I do not think so,” he said. “Despite what others may think, I believe we are all equal. No one deserves such treatment. When I saw what they were doing to you, a great rage befell me at the injustice.”

     The thought suddenly dawned on me. I gasped. “You…you’re not harmed, are you?” If this boy had taken serious damage for my sake, why that would only add to my already unpayable debt.

     “Nothing serious,” he smiled. “A couple of knights pulled us apart. Told us to get going. I was more concerned about your fate. You seemed to have taken quite a beating.”

     “Nothing fatal,” I said. “Clearly, my attacker’s intention was to harm but not to kill. I have endured worse before.”

     “Such a sad thing to hear from one so young. Why you cannot be more than ten years of age. And your attitude and composure, if I did not know better, I would think you some legendary warrior, wise and aged,” he smiled.

     “I am twelve, thank you very much,” I said, crossing my arms. I was quite flattered by his words, and, inspired to look superior, I stood up, straightening my shoulders, holding my head high.

     “Ah, forgive me, madam,” he said, standing up as well. “How foolish I am.” He bowed courteously, clearly amused and yet intent on entertaining my façade. As he straightened up however, I noticed him wincing slightly. My eyes followed his hand, which absentmindedly reached for a bloodstained area of his shirt on his lower abdomen.”

     “You are hurt!” I exclaimed, indignantly.

     “I never said I was not. I merely said it was nothing serious,” he grinned. “Do not worry, I am fine.”

     “Oh, but I did not want you to get harmed because of me. You are too kind, sir. I could never even dream to repay you. Oh gods, you should go now! If anyone sees you here, you will be in so much trouble…”

      “I do not care…”

     “How can you not care? Why me? I am no one. Why me, of all others?”

    “I’ve seen you before,” he said, leaning coolly against the wall, crossing his arms. “I observed your kindness toward others. Whenever you’ve received even a crumb, you’d always find someone who was in greater need to give it to…and,” he continued, beaming “you looked like you needed a friend. And I was wondering if you might like to be mine…”

     His kind words were overwhelming…. a friend…he wanted to be my friend? Oh, the thought was so wonderful. But reality now demanded my attention, and I shook my head.

     “I cannot. We could never be friends,” I sighed. “And besides,” I said, straightening up again, trying to look confident, clever, important. “I do not intend to stay here anymore. Yes, I am leaving this dreaded place.”

     “Oh?” he said, raising his eyebrows in interest, slightly amused. “And how do you intend to get past the guards at the gate?”

     “I…I…” I had not considered it that far. Defeated before I had even begun, I bowed my head in shame. “I do not know. But I have to find a way. I will find a way, somehow. It’s my only hope of survival… I am not safe..I..I..”

    “Then I will help you.”

     I gasped, raising my head swiftly to meet his eyes again.

     “But how?” I asked, hope burning in my eyes.

     “I will find a way.”

     His soothing voice, combined with the kindest words I had ever heard, overwhelmed me. I wrapped my arms around him, giving him the first embrace I can ever remember, one which he returned warmly.

     “Thank you so much,” I said, my voice quavering, it was all I could do to keep the tears inside. “Thank you ever so much….”

     “Of course, there is one condition,” he said as he let go of me. I looked at him in shock. What could he possibly expect from me?

     “You must agree to my proposal of friendship,” he smirked, as he crossed his arms again.

     I straightened up again, put my hands behind my back, and paced back and forth a few steps. I envisioned I were an official, carefully considering a very important decision, one regarding a crucial mission.

     I stopped short, confronting him, considering him very carefully.

   “Very well, I shall agree to your terms. They appear reasonable enough, and I believe it will be most beneficial to both parties concerned.”

     The boy chuckled, rolling his eyes. “A most curious young thing you are.” Then, in sudden realization, he said, “Ah but forgive me. I have failed the simplest of courtesies. I have not yet properly introduced myself.”

     He cleared his throat as he straightened up. Then, bowing nobly, he said, “I am….”

     As the quill slid from her hand, the curtain of slumber finally closed upon Lyra. For now, the name of her savior was lost.

Chapter Text

Lyra’s head buzzed endlessly the next day. She could not stop thinking about it, the sudden image that had shot into her head last night. Could it really have been something from her past? She had written so quickly, so scared that the image might be forever forgotten otherwise. And still, it was not enough. A name burned on her tongue. One word, she thought. I just needed to write one more word before I passed out. She was certain that, had she gotten his name, she would have uncovered something big, something that made her entire recounted event completely meaningless without.

Because that’s what it was: meaningless. So what if she had met some boy who helped her? So what if there was snow everywhere? It all meant nothing. It was just a random image without any context whatsoever, a mere piece of the puzzle that did not yet have a place to fit.

Of course, suspicious thoughts arose about what city or dwelling she had resided in. But there was no confirmation. It really could have been almost anywhere, just wintertime. She had never even seen the place. At least, not as far as she could remember. What if she had just imagined the events? Maybe it wasn’t even a memory after all. It didn’t really feel like one, did it? No. And everything seemed random. She did not feel familiar with a lot of what she wrote. Why was his hair white? Mayhap it was blue…or red? Lyra shook her head, nearly convincing herself of dismissing this dream entirely.

Even as they traveled to Fallgourd Float, questioning the Serpents about Cid’s airship, Lyra struggled to remain in the present. The questions would not stop haunting her. But she needed to pull herself together. She needed to be present. She could not forget her mission. She needed to stop this new primal. Afterward, she needed to find and rescue her friends. They had to be still alive. Now was not the time to lose focus. Finding the airship was top priority.

She had begun to finally come together until they spoke with Vaurtefaurt at Florentel’s Spire who directed them to Central Coerthas. A shock suddenly spread throughout her body. They were going to Coerthas. She had been there before, but it wasn’t like that. This was later, much later, only a few years ago. No, this memory, she still had.

Nothing to worry, she thought. It’s not like we’re going to that camp anyway. It will all be fine.

As soon as they reached the snowy border, a strange feeling came over her. Mayhap it was merely the excited feeling of a new adventure. When they reached the Observatorium, they were met with the typical Ishgardian resentment. Of course, she knew this would happen, and Vaurtefaurt had warned them. Ishgardians were not welcoming to foreigners. One would need to gain their favor by attempting to provide aid in any and every way. And of course, that duty fell upon her, “The Warrior of Light.” She would do all of the hard lifting and fighting and whatnot.

Lyra grew frustrated. She knew the all too daunting task of winning their favor would take a lot of effort and a lot of time. And even then, it may not be enough. Ishgardians just aren’t kind to outsiders. It’s not their way. She felt as though they were wasting time. She shuddered at the thought of what the imperials could be doing to her friends right now. A horrific image suddenly shot into her mind: There were the Scions, hanging by their toes somewhere in some post being tortured, all while she was running to and fro in Central Coerthas, shoveling chocobo dung and massaging some lord’s feet.

It wasn’t as though Lyra hated helping people; quite the opposite, in fact. It was what she lived for, what she always wanted to do. That and adventuring. She just didn’t like the idea of attending to meaningless tasks all while those close to her were more than likely on their last breaths. She also tended to favor helping those who were actually in need. It took all of her might not to lunge out on the ungrateful little astrologian that practically spat on her after she had just saved his useless little arse from the Ixal. She had only gone at his concerned associate’s request, after all. In fact, had she not been personally asked to bring him back safely, she probably would have left him there in the snow.

She sighed angrily as she left the Observatorium, yet again, to go retrieve some precious possessions that everyone else was apparently too lazy to go get themselves. She was so preoccupied with all of her thoughts as she made her way to the scene, that the surprise heretic attack that met her really caught her off-guard. Luckily, Lyra managed to grab her lance and defeat them pretty swiftly. She had to stop now. No more emotions. Conceal and survive. Slightly shaken, Lyra collected herself, retrieved the possessions and headed back to camp.

As she opened the chest to verify the contents that apparently belonged to a lord named Francel, something caught her eye immediately. She gasped slightly at the red glint. She pulled out the golden chain, by which hung a red jewel that was shaped rather like a fang. She suddenly had a strange feeling of familiarity. She couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

“Fury take me, a draconian rosary! In the possession of Lord Francel?” gasped Lord Portelaine.

“A…what?” Lyra looked at him in confusion.

“They are objects of worship among the heretics. To be found in possession of one is as good as admitting to being a heretic,” Lord Portelaine replied.

He put his hand to his chin, seeming to consider something momentarily.

“Yet…perhaps this is not so difficult to fathom. House Haillenarte is whispered to be infested with heretics…”

He shook his head with disappointment.

“Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, miss. I shall inform the inquisitors immediately. Under these circumstances, I must strongly advise against associating with House Haillenarte.”

Lyra did not like where this was going. She seemed to know what he was about to say next.

“Your other introductions will need to be postponed, as well. It is the duty of every Ishgardian to root out and destroy heretics – “

“But that’s not fair!” Lyra blurted out, putting both her hands on the table, staring him down. “My matter is just as urgent, if not more! People’s lives are at stake here! I was promised that if I did you another favor, I would receive my introductions!”

“– all else must wait until this matter is resolved,” Lord Portelaine finished, his tone becoming more severe. “Forgive me, but you are mistaken if you think a lord of Ishgard will put the matters of some foreigner over his own country!”

Lyra understood his position, but she did not want to care. Of course, he was right, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. She nodded curtly before making to leave as Lord Portelaine busied himself with some papers at his table. As she walked outside, a guard stationed at the entrance stopped her.

“Excuse me miss, but the astrologian whom you had saved earlier wished me to give this to you to express his thanks,” he said, holding out his hand.

Lyra stood, confused for a moment, and then walked over to him to see what he was holding. Suddenly, he clasped her hand and lowered his voice severely.

“Come close, lass, and listen well. This is for your ears only.”

Lyra pretended to take the nonexistent gift from his hand, remaining nonchalant as she proceeded to act as though she were examining the object.

“Lord Francel is no heretic. He is a goodly, righteous man, wholly dedicated to the cause.”

She met his eyes, considering him seriously.

“I know this because I served House Haillenarte for years prior to the Calamity,” he continued. “You must go to Skyfire Locks and warn him of the coming storm. The inquisitors are ruthless and will spare him no mercy. Speak to him of an edelweiss, and he will know you for a friend. Now go!”

Lyra understood what had to be done. She smiled at him warmly and spoke at a normal tone.

“How kind of him. You must tell him I give my thanks.”

As he nodded, she turned and made her way to her new destination. Lyra certainly had not anticipated getting involved this much in Ishgardian affairs. No sooner had she begun to execute mundane tasks than she became embroiled in a heretic conspiracy. Once again, she had to keep her guard up, she needed to stay alert.

Cautiously she made her way to Lord Francel, taking special care to ensure that she wasn’t followed. Despite what the knight said, Lyra remained wary and suspicious of this Lord Francel. However, as she spoke with him, she became convinced that he was innocent, and she found herself wanting to help him.

“You risk much by coming here. It is only proper that I recompense you for this deed. Tell me what you desire, and I shall do my best to provide,” Francel smiled warmly.

Lyra hesitated but knew she needed to take her chance. Her matter was still very urgent.

“I’m desperately trying to locate a missing airship, Cid Garlond’s Enterprise, which was spotted in the skies of Coerthas a few years ago, during the Calamity.”

“A missing airship? I see,” he said, pondering for a moment. “It may require a prolonged effort to locate your quarry. I shall direct you to one in a better position to assist you.”

Francel sat down at his desk and began composing a letter.

“You have my sincerest thanks,” she said, feeling a flush of gratitude.

“And you have mine,” he nodded as he handed her the sealed envelope. “Lord Haurchefant of House Fortemps commands the garrison at Camp Dragonhead. Present to him this letter of introduction, and he will surely be receptive to your needs.”

Lyra seized up at the name. A fit of anxiety began ripping at her insides, and she suddenly almost wanted to throw up.

“L-Lord Haurchefant?” She felt her entire body going numb.

“Why, yes. Do you know him?” he asked, looking up at her. He gasped suddenly at the sight. “Gods miss, you look as though you’ve just seen a ghost! Are you ill? Do you wish to sit down?”

“N-no…No thank you.” It took Lyra a moment to regain the feeling in her body. “Forgive me. I’m entirely fine. I just thought…the name sounded familiar…that’s all…”

“Ah, well in that case, you should know that I direct you to a very kind and generous man. If anyone can help you, I know he can.” Francel smiled, though he still looked a little concerned.

Haurchefant. Lyra's heart raced as she made her way to Camp Dragonhead. She remembered that day very well. She had seen so many faces over the years, heard so many names, but this one, this one she’d never forget.

No, why did it have to be him? she thought. Why did it have to be Camp Dragonhead? Oh gods, what if he recognizes me?! He’ll never help me, then. He’d hate me. As she walked to Camp Dragonhead, the memory replayed in her mind.

It was about four years ago, just after the horrid Calamity. She was running again, running in fear. Her lungs were burning, her entire body screaming. She had been in the North Shroud. She hardly noticed when she hit snow, not until her body finally gave away, and she fell face down into the icy cushion. Desperately trying to catch her breath, she rolled over onto her back, the pain from the hole in her body had finally won over. She was too weak to move anymore. She turned her head to the side, she could make out a bloody red trail along with her footprints. Luckily, thanks to the blizzard that was howling wildly, that trail would soon be covered.

Dusk was beginning to fall. Her body felt nearly frozen, growing colder each moment. She was shivering violently, her hand desperately holding a piece of cloth up to the gash in her abdomen. The adrenaline that had kept her going had worn off, and she began to feel the consequences of her abuse.

This is it, she thought. If I don’t die from blood loss, this blizzard shall take me. She closed her eyes accepting her defeat.

She was barely conscious by the time a group of knights came across her. One of them had nearly tripped over the almost lifeless heap that was her body.

“Gods, it’s a body!” one of them exclaimed. “Poor sod. A heretic, do you think?”

Lyra stirred slightly.

“Seven hells! Is she still alive?!” another said as a third one crouched down beside her. Lyra tried to say, “I am fine,” but nothing but a few unintelligible mumbles came out. She could not summon even a bit of strength.

“Just barely,” he said. “She’s in very poor shape. We’re taking her back to camp. It’s alright,” he said to her, taking her in his arms, “You’re safe now.”

Lyra supposed she must have passed out. Because the next thing she remembered was waking up in a warm bed, a fire crackling in the fireplace across the room she was in. Alarms went off inside of her immediately. Where was she? As she sat up quickly in bed, ready to charge away, that same voice stopped her.

“Ah, you’re awake. For a moment there, we had worried you might have been lost to us.”

It was that knight. He was sitting in a chair at the side of her bed.

“W-where am I?” she demanded.

“You are in the infirmary here in Camp Dragonhead.” He paused a moment. “It’s alright. You are among friends. No harm will come to you here.”

“C-camp Dragonhead…w-where…”

“‘Tis one of the Ishgardian outposts here in Central Coerthas. The camp is the charge of House Fortemps. Lie back down now. Rest. You are in no condition to be up and about. I promise you, you are safe here.”

Still feeling uncertain, Lyra merely continued looking at him. Suddenly, she became aware of a very intense pain. The pain finally forced her to lay her head back down on the soft pillow. Her entire body screamed from exhaustion and abuse. She looked down at her abdomen and lifted her nightshirt slightly, examining the area where she knew she had been stabbed. It was now heavily bandaged.

“Who are you?” she asked as she looked back up at him.

With a slight bow of his head, he replied, “I am Lord Haurchefant. I am in charge of Camp Dragonhead.”

“I suppose I owe you thanks, Lord Haurchefant. You and your men saved my life. I am in your debt.”

He shook his head. “Do not worry yourself of debts.” He looked at her expectantly. It seemed he was waiting for her to introduce herself. “And you are?” he asked gently.

“It would be better not to say.” She replied, quietly.

“Ah. No? Very well, then. I shall refer to you simply as ‘My friend.’ “

Lyra looked at him in shock. “You would refer to someone whom you hardly even know as your friend? Sir, for all you know, I could be some dangerous criminal….”

Haurchefant laughed heartily. “Forgive me, but I do not take you to be any wanted criminal, certainly not a dangerous one. Why, you hardly look like you know how to hold any sort of weapon.”

He had a point. She was no fighter. She knew only the most basic hand-to-hand combat, but she could not very well defend herself. So badly had she wanted to take up the lance, so excited on beginning a new chapter of her life…but it seemed it wasn’t meant to be.

“Now tell me, my friend, what in the hells were you doing out after dark on so cold a night? And in a blizzard? Without any sort of weapon or means of defense? Hells, you weren’t even properly clothed, and…and what happened to you?” he asked, his eyes fixing where Lyra was clutching the painful gash in her abdomen.

Lyra merely just shook her head, closing her eyes. She knew not what to say.

“You are not of Ishgard, that much is plain. You must be a long way from home. We do not get many visitors out here, and something tells me that you were not coming to visit.”

“Not exactly…I was…I was just trying to get away…”

“From who attacked you?” He looked at her. Lyra shot him a quick glance before looking back to the fireplace.

“You are quite fortunate, you know,” he continued. “Had my men and I not been delayed on our way back to camp, we might never have run into you.” He paused for a moment. “Who did this to you? Why? Perhaps there is some way I can… his voice trailed off, and Lyra finally looked up at him again.

It was the first time that she really looked at him and now took in the young lord’s appearance. He had silvery-white hair. His eyes shone through the strands that fell over his face, eyes that were a very interesting, icy blue. His features were quite defined, and he had a sharp chin. If she weren’t so upset, she might have even considered how very attractive he was. Laughter lines indicated that he smiled a lot. He wasn’t smiling now, however. His face was full of sympathy, pity. It took Lyra a moment to realize why, before she felt wet drops falling down her cheek. Her eyes had spilled over without warning, and she hadn't even noticed.

“Forgive me,” she said, quickly wiping her face with her sleeve. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. How silly.”

She forced a lighthearted chuckle. But she knew exactly what it was that had overwhelmed her. His words had forced her to think on the events that had earlier taken place, death ever fresh in her mind…no she would not allow herself to recall it all again.

“No apologies necessary. It is clear you’ve been through a lot. If you wish to speak no further on the matter, I will not insist.” He smiled reassuringly. “Though, it might make it easier to help you if you were to enlighten me on the situation.”

Lyra opened her mouth to reply just as a knight rushed in.

“My lord, the emissary has arrived bearing urgent news from Ishgard,” he said breathlessly.

“Ah, of course. Let him know I am on my way.” He rose from his chair and smiled warmly at Lyra. “Rest now my friend. Whatever troubles you have faced, you are now safe. Take it easy and regain your strength. I will notify the camp’s cook that you are awake, and she will gladly prepare for you a hearty meal.”

Just before he left the room, Lyra called out to him, “Lord Haurchefant…”

He stopped and turned around.

“Just Haurchefant, please.”

Taken aback, Lyra hesitated. “…Haurchefant”

“Yes?”

“…Thank you.”

“You are most welcome,” he smiled.

Then, with a small bow, he left.

Lyra settled under the covers. After a few moments on her own, she had succeeded in overwhelming herself with her thoughts. She almost wished he’d come back. She didn’t want to be alone right now. The events began screaming more boldly and she dove her head under the covers, sobbing quietly.

It’s all my fault.

Chapter Text

Eventually, Lyra had somehow fallen asleep, though nightmares had taunted her severely. She awoke in the morning, a ray of sunshine pouring in through the room’s small window. She got up to look outside. It was a beautiful day, clear and bright. The sheet of white that covered the ground sparkled as it bathed in the morning rays. A few knights stood at their usual posts throughout the camp as others walked to and fro, disturbing the clean, freshly fallen layer of snow.

     Lyra sighed as she dressed. She knew naught where she would go, but she couldn’t stay. She tried to make it a habit not to stay anywhere for too long. She wasn’t in the best condition, but she’d manage. She winced slightly as she finished pulling her clothes on, her body rebelling about its disturbance from a blissful rest. She wouldn’t give in to weakness though. But, as she walked through the doorway, she walked right into him.

     “Haurchefant….I”

     “Hello. You’re up?” he said looking surprised.

     “Yes…I’m feeling much better…” she said, looking up at him. “And I really must be going now.”

      You’re leaving?” he chuckled lightly, looking at her, clearly taken aback. “Forgive me, but I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going anywhere.”

     “Look, I do thank you for saving my life, but I can’t stay…I…I shouldn’t be here,” she said plainly.

     “Where should you be then?”

     “I don’t know.

     “Have you no home? No family?

     “No…” she bowed her head, curling her fists. She lowered her voice, “Not anymore…”

      “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he replied softly, lowering his head. “Is there something I can do to help you?”

     “No, all I know is that I can’t stay here. Wherever I go, death and destruction seem to fancy following.” She took a deep breath as she continued to stare at the floor.

     “Please stay. At least until you are recovered. Once you’re well enough, I will personally see you to the border of Coerthas. The North Shroud is much nicer anyway, much warmer.

“N-No!” she gasped “I…I can’t go back there! Not after what they’ve done…” she staggered, falling backwards.

     He moved to catch her before she hit the ground, his arms wrapping around her and supporting her at her back.

     “Easy now,” he said.

     Lyra was weaker than she wanted to admit and suddenly felt very light-headed as a sharp pain began roaring in her abdomen again. She winced in agony, clutching at her side. She felt her knees failing her. He seemed to catch on and picked her up, carrying her back over to the bed. He laid her down gently and then lifted her shirt slightly, revealing the now bloodied bandage.

     “Damn it,” he said. “Your wound has reopened. I’ll get the chirurgeon. Please, don’t move.”

     “I’ll be fine…please, just let me go.

     “Let me help you.”

     “Gods, why can’t you understand?! I don’t want your help!” she snapped, shooting her eyes up to his. “I don’t want anyone’s help. Not ever again. I just want to go! Leave me be!” It was difficult enough fighting her pain; battling with his insistence only frustrated her more.

     He stopped, considering her for a moment. His eyes then fell on something else, something lower down, at her neck. Lyra made to follow his eyes, which landed on the necklace she was wearing. It was just a simple leather necklace with a small, square, opaque-white stone woven into its center. She never thought it anything special, though she had always had it with her. Lyra grasped at it, and then looked back at him. As she once again met his eyes, however, she grew disconcerted at his sudden change in composure. He had lost the warmth on his face, which looked now pale and almost frozen, his eyes dazed, seeming lost.

     “Wh-what is it? she said, feeling slightly frightened.

      At that, he seemed to come back to his senses. Blinking, he said, “Ah, nothing. It’s a very pretty necklace. Forgive me, the stone simply reminded me of something.”

     Lyra could not help but feel that he was looking at her somehow differently now though. A very melancholy, tender look had momentarily spread across his face as his eyes briefly met hers before he sighed and walked over to the door, closing it shut. He then walked back over to her and took the seat he had last night in the chair beside her bed. Leaning forward, he put his hands together, resting his chin upon them lightly, considering her closely as he seemed to carefully formulate what to say next.

     “How can I gain your trust?” he finally asked, patiently.

     “You can’t. No one can. I learned that the hard way. This world is full of monsters.”

     “Of course it is,” said Haurchefant. “But there are also still plenty of good, kind souls out there. Do not lose faith so easily, my friend.”

      “Faith?!” Lyra spat. She shook her head as she let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s too late for that, too late for me.

     “It’s never too late,” he said softly. “There’s always a choice.”

     “What choice?” she scoffed.

     “Well,” he said sitting back in his chair. “Everyone falls down in life. It’s your choice whether or not you decide to get up again. But, by giving in during life’s harshest trials and cutting yourself off from others, you miss out on the better things that life could offer.”

     Lyra stared up at the ceiling. She said nothing.

     Haurchefant smiled at her gently. "My friend, you can choose to go through life never trusting anyone. Yes, you'd never risk getting hurt, you'd never feel betrayal. But know that, by not taking that risk, you'd also never know the feeling of true love, happiness, or friendship."

     Lyra shot up in anger, piercing his eyes with hers. “I don’t need love,” she snapped. “I don’t need friendship. I don’t need anyone, least of all you.  I am not your friend, and you will certainly never be mine!” At this point, she was almost yelling. “How dare you assume you know what I’m going through! Stop pretending to understand! Giving in during life’s harshest trials?! You’ve no idea what I’ve had to endure!”

     Lyra’s rage was swelling inside of her. Somehow, this man was getting through her defenses, he was getting under her skin, making her feel very uncomfortable. She had felt those words reach her, and she so much wanted to believe them, to accept the warm hand that he was reaching out to her. It frightened her. She felt weak, vulnerable, a wounded animal backed into a corner, teeth bared, ready to strike, to defend. But she withdrew the moment she saw his expression; which bore a look of deep hurt from her attack. She didn’t understand it, and what was worse, a cold shower of guilt struck her suddenly at the sight of him.  She may as well have pushed a dagger straight through his heart. A moment of silence followed, a very heavy, painful silence.

     “Very well,” he finally sighed, standing up. “I cannot force you to trust me. As for helping you, I suppose I cannot force that upon you either. Of course, I could detain you, but I would never.” He looked out the window, taking in a deep breath. “You are free to go, but at least hear me. You are injured. I do not take you to be a very ignorant individual. Therefore, I believe you know as well as I do that, should you decide to leave in your present condition out in this cold, you will most likely die.”

     She knew not what to say. She felt shocked at her sudden outburst, shocked at his reaction, shocked at her own reaction… She sat up suddenly, desperate to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, her body screamed at her in agony again, and she fell back wincing, clutching at her side. She started at the warm dampness that met her hand and looked at the red liquid that now covered it. The wound had now bled through both her bandage and her shirt.

     Haurchefant looked at her, concern beginning to overtake his pained look. “I am still going to get the chirurgeon. Whether or not you allow him to treat you is entirely up to you.” He gave her one last courteous bow and then exited the room.

     Shame. It was all she could feel. It filled the room, the very atmosphere, and she felt herself nearly choking as she took in the unnaturally heavy air. Her throat had tightened, her skin cold and clammy, her mouth hanging open. The shame only grew as the chirurgeons came rushing in and began treating her. She merely laid there, blank, emotionless, looking like some fool as she stared at nothingness. But it just didn’t make sense. Of course, she had been quite rude, but they hardly knew each other. It would have been normal for him to be hurt, offended, angered. But this was different. He was so obviously so deeply wounded by her words. His reaction was a little too much. Then there was her own feeling of shame. What did it matter to her? He was no one. And yet, she almost felt like she was forgetting something…something very important…it was so horrible that she had forgotten….

     Lyra did not see Haurchefant again, and, as the days went on, she continued to lie in bed, patiently waiting for the day to come that she was well enough to ease this place of her troublesome being. Everyone there was so kind to her, which only added to her guilt of refraining from returning the kindness. But she had decided that, for whatever reason, it would simply be more appropriate if she accepted the aid but remained silent, only giving a short, curt response where it was needed. She felt it would be better for all concerned if she did not let anything else exit her mouth for the remaining duration of her stay.

     The time soon came when Lyra had healed well enough, and the chirurgeons said that she was free to go whenever she pleased. Ignoring the heavy heart she felt for not making amends, she decided she would leave first thing in the morning. Yes, just like that, she would leave.

     She awoke very early the next morning, dressed, gathered her things, and made to leave. The sun had not yet risen, and most were still sleeping. It was how she wanted it. She would slip away, silently, in the darkness, without a word. None here would ever see her again. Carefully, she crept out of the infirmary.

     “Miss?”

     She stopped in her tracks and turned around. She had just reached the door and was about to open it. It was a younger chirurgeon that had looked after her. She was a plain-looking young Hyur woman, with greyish eyes, her brown hair pulled tightly back into a neat bun. She bore a soft expression and was holding a coat and a pair of boots in her hands.

     “Yes?” Lyra asked. “I’m sorry, I was trying not to wake anyone.”

     “Oh don’t worry about that. I haven’t slept all night, had a couple o’ unfortunate knights run into an entire gang of heretics late last night. Barely made it out with their lives. Anyway, Lord Haurchefant had heard that you were well enough to leave. He bid me give you these before you left. Didn’t want you freezing to death.” She held out the cozy-looking garments: a beautiful blue coat lined with white fur and matching boots. They looked so warm and cozy, and they were rather nice too. Lyra couldn’t recall ever possessing any clothes so nice. They were too nice.

     “He wants me to have them? Oh, I couldn’t possibly. They’re far too good for me…I”

     “Miss, please. He wanted to do this. And he did anticipate you saying as much. Told me to tell you he insists and wouldn’t have it any other way.”

     Lyra felt her cheeks flushing. That he would still be so kind and thoughtful…why? A pang of guilt made her heart sink into her stomach. She was torn between the worry of being too difficult and simply accepting something so luxurious. But she took in the exhausted look of the poor girl and resolved not to argue.  She stepped forward and took the coat and boots.

     “Thank you. That is most generous of him.” She paused, considering for a moment. “And thank you for all you have done for me. I would not be alive right now were it not for the care you and the other chirurgeons have provided me. I am eternally grateful.”

     A smile grew over the chirurgeon’s face. “You’re most welcome.”

     Lyra bid the woman farewell, bundled up in her new attire, and then began her long trek through the snow. Where she was going to go, she did not know. She supposed she would just walk purposelessly and see where she ended up. She stopped in her tracks, turning back around slowly to chance one more look at the place. A wild thought of running back and finding Haurchefant and apologizing to him crossed her mind. She wanted to plead for his forgiveness, to ease her mind of the heavy burden. She wanted to thank him for his kindness.

      No, don’t be silly, she thought. She took a deep breath and began her journey.

I wanted to trust you…why?

Chapter Text

     Lyra now gazed at the entrance to Camp Dragonhead, standing as she had once stood when she had turned to catch one last glimpse of the camp before leaving it, years ago. Or at least, it had been the person she used to be who once stood there. Lyra had come very far since then. So much had happened since the last time she had stepped foot into this camp, so much had changed. She had come to terms with herself.  Who she had been was not who she wanted to be. She had resolved to change, to start anew. She had given up on her past deciding it was all a heavy load that did not need to follow her on her new path. She was wiser now, stronger.

     Take a deep breath…calm down… she thought. Lyra’s heart had been racing nonstop since she left Lord Francel. She was sure she’d never see Haurchefant again. Why would she? Why did fate have to be so cruel? Why did her past always have to come back to taunt her? How could she face him? Wait…would he even remember her, recognize her? Mayhap he wouldn’t. It had been years.

     She sighed and made to enter the camp. She introduced herself and stated her purpose to the knights stationed at the entrance who pointed her in the direction of Haurchefant’s whereabouts. Her nerves were very high, heart rate increasing as she climbed the steps to the hall. She stopped at the door, took a deep breath, and stepped forth. As she entered the building, he immediately caught her gaze. It was him…oh gods, it was really him.

     Stay calm, she thought. See if he recognizes you.

     He was sitting at his desk on the opposite side of the room. A couple of other knights stood at either side of his desk. He looked up from his work, their eyes meeting…but…nothing…wait…Lyra thought she might have seen the slightest glimmer of recognition in his expression, but she couldn’t be sure. Suddenly, he gave her a warm smile.

     “Ah, the unmistakable swagger of a well-trained adventurer. If you are come to pay your respects, be at ease, friend. I am not one to stand on formality.”

     Lyra felt slightly taken aback. At the same time, a flush of grateful relief came over her, warming her frozen and distraught body. He did not seem to recognize her.

     “Truth be told," he continued, "I would gladly welcome many and more brave souls like yourself. But enough chatter – pray tell me why you have come.”

     She stood at the door and cleared her throat.

     “Lord Haurchefant, I presume?

     He nodded.  

     “Lyra Lynne.” she bowed.  “I have come bearing an urgent letter of importance on behalf of Lord Francel,” she said as she approached him and handed him the letter. She was still fearful of recognition.

     But no, he did not seem to recognize her even the slightest bit. Well, she did look quite different than she had four years ago, where she had previously had brown hair, it was now raven black with blue highlights. Bangs fell over one side of her face, the rest of her hair pulled back in a very neat braid. In addition, she had She also now bore a battle-worn and tired look.

     Slowly she became more at ease as she explained her situation to Lord Haurchefant. He was very kind and receptive.  Truth be told, she was secretly quite pleased to once again be around his welcoming presence. If anything, the years had only made him kinder, wiser. One couldn’t help but feel like they were speaking with naught more than a good, old friend. Lyra flushed slightly as a guilty pang hit her when he insisted that she and her comrades enjoy the hospitality of the camp. As she expressed her gratitude, Cid and Alphinaud suddenly walked in and said their greetings. Alphinaud was shivering immensely as he ran to warm himself by the fire.

      After, they walked over to another building where they were sat down at a dining table. They were offered blankets to wrap up in as they sat around the table, drinking hot, mulled wine. Lyra still had to put up with annoying Alphinaud, the ever pompous little Elezen, but she otherwise enjoyed the idle chit-chat between him and Cid as they sat together, awaiting any news.

     Still, Lyra continued to have mixed feelings about the entire situation. She still held the heavy guilt of her last visit there. It didn’t feel quite right acting as though nothing had happened. But she feared that, if Haurchefant found out who she was, he would retract all hospitality and they would lose any chance of ever receiving aid and finding Cid’s airship.

     She so badly wanted to apologize though, to reveal her true identity. The unnerving thought of facing him wasn’t nearly as bad as this choking guilt. But no, she had to refrain, for the sake of their mission.

     Suddenly one of the knights entered.

     “Lord Haurchefant has requested your presence, Mistress Lynne.”

     Lyra nearly spit out her wine all over Alphinaud. Although, to be honest, she secretly wouldn’t have minded it. He had started to really get on her nerves.

     “M-me?” Lyra couldn’t understand what he might want. Had he realized her true identity after all? Fear began to overtake her.

     “Yes, if you will come with me, please,” said the knight.

     “O-of course…” she gulped.

     She gave Cid and Alphinaud a quick and furtive glance and then got up and followed the knight back out into the snowy cold.

     Thankfully, her fears were for naught. The biggest relief flushed over Lyra as Haurchefant merely asked her to demonstrate and share her impressive skills with a few of his knights. She obliged gladly. A little friendly combat always helped her relax and let go of all of her struggles and stresses, something she especially needed after sitting, talking with Alphinaud for nearly half an hour. When she met the knight who was training three other young-looking, green knights, he asked her to fight all three at once.

     Pfft, this is too easy, she thought as she took out the first two fairly quickly. However, as the third knight prepared to strike, she suddenly noticed Haurchefant watching them fighting from a little ways away. A wave of nervousness suddenly hit her and she swore slightly under her breath as she felt her cheeks going hot.

     “Aw, she’s blushing! Got a thing for our Lord Haurchefant, eh?” her opponent laughed, noticing what had caught her attention. He then lunged forward to try and take advantage of the momentary distraction.

     “You’re going to regret that,” she said quietly as she whirled back around giving him a sickly-sweet smile. Regaining her focus, she took him down with a single blow, without even breaking a sweat. “You’re quite fortunate, however,” she said to him, twirling her lance like a baton, satisfied with her victory. “I did promise to go easy on you.”

     “That was easy?!” he gasped breathlessly, still clutching at his side where she had delivered a somewhat brutal, jumping kick.

     “So much for tough, Ishgardian knights,” she muttered under her breath, smiling, as she took in the sad scene of her three opponents down on their knees, breathing heavily. She then made her way back to Haurchefant.

     As if, she thought. I don’t have a “thing” for Haurchefant. She rolled her eyes.

     She felt herself stupidly blushing again as Haurchefant showered her with praise when she returned. She felt numbness as she struggled to hold eye contact. She could swear that his soft, icy blue eyes saw right through her, not judging but merely seeing every fiber of her being, her fears, her losses…her flaws. And yet he betrayed no hint of knowing or recognition. But…why was she so uneasy around him? …Of course, it had to be the guilt…nothing more…

     But she had felt this way even before she had lashed out on him years ago. It was what had made her feel so afraid and threatened in the first place. When she was with him, she felt as though, somehow, no matter what, everything was, and would be, okay. There was this inexplicable familiarity, an unshakeable feeling of nostalgia when she looked at him. She almost felt like he knew her, and she knew him, or mayhap he was reminding her of something, someone…but what? Who?

     There were other feelings as well…affection, warmth, understanding. Somehow, he just got to her, and she wanted to just lay everything bare to him, to hold nothing back, to be close to him, to trust him completely. In the past, such feelings horrified her. Now, she just felt confused. It seemed so inappropriate. Truly, they hardly knew each other. She wanted to think it was just his friendly and welcoming personality, but it just felt like there was something more, something deeper, something that was special to only the two of them. But how? Did he feel this too?

…Who are you?