#your boldness stands alone: 2x WoLs

[sunderedazem]

18. — endless

This prompt was also sent in an ask by @unbreakable-oaths~! Thank you both for the prompt - and I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. Have my teenage WoL being an angsty new Dark Knight mess in the aftermath of Rhalgr's Reach!

18 - Endless

Ala Mhigo is hell.

Not, of course, for the people that inhabit it. They’re a good people, if yet downtrodden and rightfully fearful of conflict. Not even for the Garleans that think they own it, as odious as the notion is. Nor for those Ala Mhigans with Garlean names and titles, the children born to the dregs of both societies - no, those like Fordola he can only offer grim compassion.

Ala Mhigo is hell for the fact that he is months shy of twenty and yet has seen and dealt more death than even Temple Knights who have served for decades. Ala Mhigo is hell because he isn’t yet an adult, by Ishgard’s standards, though he’s long since been considered such everywhere else and yet he feels older than nineteen on an exponential scale. Ala Mhigo is hell because for all he was once a healer- 

All he can do now is kill. 

And with every Echo that screams in his soul- he sees the faces of loved ones not his own. He sees the desperation of conscripts who cannot flee lest their families suffer. He sees the blind faith of Garleans who truly think they’re helping. He sees the determination of those who see a monster when they see him, sees his legacy through their eyes as one of only blood. He sees the tears and smiles of siblings and children and lovers and parents and knows he takes, and takes and takes. 

And it is endless.

He does not tell Lelesu. She would want to know, of course- but she is in Doma now, and though he means to follow her as soon as he can he has yet to heal enough to walk unaided.

The pain of the blow Zenos yae Galvus dealt to him in Rhalgr’s Reach - cutting through his flesh and bone like so much butter, because he dared to take the time to worry for Y’shtola. Because he dared to worry for Lelesu. Because of simple distraction, simple arrogance-

Those moments are still burnt into his memory. The sudden frigid breathlessness, the baffled clarity of watching blood splatter, the way the world spun. The way realization set in when that first heartbeat sputtered and died in his chest. The ice in his veins- the warmth of water pooling beneath him, red with life. 

Lelesu’s fear.

It will happen again. He knows it will. Better him than someone else, of course- he’s already stained the world enough, wet the ground with the blood of others, enemies and dear friend alike, and even now his own. But how can he carry on, when it will never end? Not for him, at least. Not until it takes his life. 

He used to be a healer, once. Until the moment came where healing failed.

And now he bleeds, just like everyone else that he couldn’t save.

Corrain looks down at his hands. He feels like he’s drifting to see the skin clear, and not stained red, weeping the sorrow he wishes he could feel in place of the anger. In place of the loss. But maybe it’s better this way. 

Maybe it’s better to be monstrous. To let Lelesu keep the mantle of the Warrior, while he become the Weapon in truth. That way- at least when the dust settles and the people cry for those they have lost, they may have someone to bleed for it. And better him than someone else.

If the violence must be endless, then at least he will be the target it can be drawn to. At least he can save others like that, still.

“...Corrain? Are you feeling alright?”

He blinks. The sun is low on the horizon, the sky bleeding red over Castrum Oriens, and he sits quietly in a small covered tent attached to the Alliance infirmary, watching the sunset. Krile has come to find him, then. He must be approaching another treatment, or dose of painkiller, or something.

“...I’m fine,” he says, and the words are ash on his tongue. But he turns to Krile and tries to smile. “...plotting my escape so I can follow Lele to Doma.”

It’s enough of a misdirection that Krile’s concerned expression fades immediately into exasperated scolding.

“You most certainly shall not be escaping, young man. You have only just been allowed out of bed these past two days, and you still cannot walk without being under observation, lest you collapse under the strain,” she huffs. “And I’ll not see any of my hard work wasted, thank you.”

The banter is familiar. It should be familiar, easy to engage with. But- he tries to laugh. He does. And the smile doesn’t catch, doesn’t reach his eyes, and Krile’s stern gaze softens. 

“...Oh. Oh dear. You will be well soon, I promise.”

He blinks, tightens his grip on the armrest of the chair he’s been allowed to sit in. Saltwater gathers on his eyelashes.

“...I know. I’m fine.”

There’s something crestfallen in her face. He can’t bring himself to look. His heart aches for it, and yet…he has no right to cry here. It’s nothing he hasn’t inflicted on others.

He swallows the pain and smiles again. 

“Just a little frustrated with my current situation,” he explains, and it’s even true. Krile doesn’t appear to buy in, of course. But what can she say? 

All he can do is kill. Primals, people, predators- it is all he can do. But he is what this life has forged him into. A Weapon of Light. And so- he must be as iron or steel. For the battle will continue, and when it ends another will arise, and another, and another.

And it will be endless.

Compliant with "your boldness stands alone among the wreck", the series @azems-familiar and I share where Corrain and Lelesu are co-WoLs!