Work Text:
Agnea wasn’t sure what she expected of Vidania, the legendary battlefield in which the Flamebringer himself had made his final stand against the wicked god Vide. The eight of them, the same number as the gods, disembarked from the Grand Terry and gazed upon the endless stairs. They couldn’t fall here, Agnea knew. They had to bring back the dawn and end this long night.
“Agnea,” Throné said beside her. “Remember what I’ve taught you.”
“Right!” Agnea nodded, clutching her dagger tightly to her chest. There was a renewed sense of vigor in Throné’s expression, one she had not seen since leaving Lostseed.
A shiver went down her spine at the thought of Lostseed. Never had she imagined such a bleak city and a monstrous man waiting at the end of Throné’s journey. But Throné was free now, and again Agnea’s gaze was drawn to Throné’s bare throat.
“What a sad place…” Ochette said softly, holding her bow steady, and Mahina hooted beside her. “I’ve never smelled such overwhelming despair before.”
“A black wind howls,” Hikari said, and Agnea caught the tremble of his hand over the hilt of his sword. “Is Kazan truly here…?”
Feelings of betrayal ran deep among the eight of them, Agnea knew. The memories they had seen reflected in that small mirror as they relit the Sacred Flames - Tanzy burning to death at the hands of Temenos’ friend Mindt, Ori stabbing herself, Kazan killing another with that cursed blade, a masked hunter being torn apart by that sorrowful, monstrous jackal - and every time Agnea shut her eyes, she couldn’t help but see those memories. Not so long ago she had shined on the stage at the Festival of Grace and saw the smiles of all those she loved. How naïve she had been.
The group pressed forward, and Agnea kept close to Throné. She remembered Throné’s smile most clearly of all, and tried to keep that memory close to her heart as darkness fell around the eight of them.
The stairs seemed endless and mazelike, and once Agnea glanced behind herself over her shoulder and no longer saw any signs of the Grand Terry past the shadows. She tried not to think about what would happen to the eight of them if their ship was destroyed or lost. Partitio had told the hired crew to stay with the ship, and Agnea could only hope that they would be safe too.
A cry from Mahina caught Agnea’s attention, and Ochette growled darkly. “Something’s coming!” she yelled.
A wave of shadow came barreling down the stairs, splitting Agnea, Throné, Ochette, and Hikari from the other four of their group. Hikari drew his sword, trying to cleave a path through the pulsing mass of shadows. It was a twisted, physical thing, nothing like the shadows cast by light.
“Tch, of course it wouldn’t be so simple,” Throné muttered, unsheathing her dagger. Agnea recognized that dagger, engraved with the name of Throné’s birth mother.
“It is not such a simple thing to make the sun rise,” Hikari said, jerking his sword free from that mass of shadows. “But the gods did so once before, and thus so shall we.”
But we’re only human, and the gods still died, came a dark thought unbidden to Agnea’s mind, and the shadows around the four of them erupted, surrounding them like vengeful wraiths. Inhuman shrieking filled Agnea’s ears, and she fell to her knees and fought back a sudden urge to vomit.
“Agnea!” Throné cried, kneeling beside her. Tendrils of shadow shot toward them, and Throné barely had time to throw her arms around Agnea before they were struck. The ground below them gave away, and Ochette’s screams filled the engulfing darkness.
“Aggie! Néné!”
Into the unforgiving darkness Agnea and Throné fell for a very long time.
The group spoke little as they left Lostseed, and not even the gondola guide said much as he ferried them across the valley. A forgotten kingdom, and within a ruined castle lay discarded a poisoned collar beside the corpse of a king of nothing. Throné’s journey was at an end, Agnea knew, but the scent of blood could not be easily forgotten.
Osvald candled Claude’s baby close to his chest, intending to pass the baby to the orphanage in New Delsta - not the most ideal outcome, but the only choice that remained to them. Castti was still bothered by fleeting memories of this place, and Ochette held her hand gently. The others of their group fared little better, a somber air lingering over all of them. They had done what they could, but it didn’t feel enough.
They soon came to that strange door, unlocked by keys Throné had paid for in blood, blood that ran in her own veins, that monstrous man had said. Agnea hated him, hated him more than anyone she had ever hated anyone before, and she could not say she was sad to see him dead, and that frightened her.
She tried to ignore the splatters of dried blood on the ground as the eight of them entered the sewers, and they walked through the tunnels in silence. Their steps echoed upon the hard stone ground, and Agnea wrapped her arms around herself to ward away the damp chill. She looked ahead at Throné before her, and again Throné touched her bare throat, the slightest hint of discoloration around the pale flesh.
When they emerged from the sewers, night had fallen, and the stars that greeted Agnea and the others had never seemed so bright. Throné stood frozen a moment, simply staring up at those stars, and carefully, hesitantly, Agnea reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and much to Agnea’s surprise, Throné squeezed back, her fingers warm.
“I want to see you shine at the Grand Gala,” Throné whispered, the first words she had spoken since leaving Lostseed behind.
“I will, I promise,” Agnea said, her voice equally quiet, and in Throné’s dark eyes she saw a faint warmth.
When Agnea forced her eyes open, she was greeted by the sight of that strange foggy shadow, shadow the same shade of poison violet as the collar Throné had once been forced or wear, or Trousseau’s poison rain. With a grunt she got back to her feet, and was relieved to see she still held her dagger and that she hadn’t accidentally impaled herself on it. She glanced around, but saw little beyond the shadows, and fear prickled at the back of her neck. “Throné?” she called out. “Where are you?”
They had fallen together, hadn’t they? But her body didn’t ache, so fortunately it didn’t seem she had fallen far. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger, and no reply came.
Her mouth went dry. She was alone, alone in this twisted place out of legend. “What do I do now…?” she asked out loud, though she knew no one would answer.
Inhaling a deep breath, she took one step forward, and then another. She had left Cropdale alone, but with each town she had visited, a new companion had joined her. Without Partitio, Castti, and Hikari, would she have felt brave enough to sail to the eastern continent? If she’d been alone, would she had the courage to save that puppy and meet Throné? Or to save a strange man from the snow, who wore a prisoner’s chain around his neck? Alone she would not have seen the kind heart that lay beneath Throné’s icy exterior, or Osvald’s, or that Temenos, a cleric and holy inquisitor, had a rather flippant and sometimes doubtful approach to his own faith.
Alone, she wouldn’t have had the courage to stand before Dolcinaea and proclaim her mother’s legacy. Throné had wanted her to shine, and so she did.
Agnea took another step forward, and the shadowy fog grew thicker. She held out her hand and chanted, “Whirlwind blow!”
(“Your magic is beautiful,” Throné had once told her.
Agnea giggled. “It’s a spell Mama taught me when I was younger. If you’d like, I could teach you too.”
Throné smiled faintly, and Agnea felt her heart soar. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”)
The winds shred through the foggy shadows, revealing a staircase leading upwards. Agnea dashed forward onto the stairs, and tried not to stare at the darkness below. Beside her other platforms and stairs drifted along in that strange night, but where they were connected, she could not see. It was almost labyrinthine, distant pathways leading to nowhere, and still she saw no signs of her companions. Shadows lingered about her like mist, sapping the warmth from her skin, but she kept her eyes forward, rushing up these seemingly endless stairs.
Maybe the gods had climbed these stairs once, and then one by one they had fallen until only Aelfric was left to face the consuming darkness.
Her legs began to ache, and the echoes of her footsteps were lost in the surrounding darkness. Not even the stars were visible. But there was still light, vague as it was, cast by the relit Sacred Flames. The eight of them had come so far, so she couldn’t falter now, Agnea told herself, over and over.
Whether it was an eternity or the blink of an eye, Agnea reached the top of the stairs, stepping onto a large, eight-sided platform. Crumbling pillars lined the edges, and another set of stairs led further upwards, its top obscured by shadow. At the center of the platform, and suspended in the air by chains of shadow and her arms spread, was Throné, and Agnea’s blood ran cold.
“Throné!” she cried. Holding her dagger protectively, she tried to dash forward, but a jolt of black lightning struck near her feet, and she froze.
“You can’t save her.”
An eerie voice echoed from the void, and although it was not loud, it nearly forced Agnea to her knees. She clutched her head, but kept her gaze locked on Throné suspended in the air. Throné was unconscious, but the slow rise and fall of her chest meant she still lived, much to Agnea’s relief. Clenching her teeth, she yelled, “Who’s there?”
“She is a creature of darkness. What can one as naïve as you do for one so twisted?”
That voice was like the buzzing of countless wasps in her ears, and again she fought back the urge to vomit. “She isn’t twisted!” she cried out. “She’s kind and strong and brave!”
Violet flames appeared around the edges of the platform, and they cast dark shadows upon the ground. The shadows bubbled like boiling water, and from them emerged twisted monsters, the same kind of shadowy creatures that Agnea had her companions had fought since the start of this long night. Their bodies pulsed and writhed as if unstable or incomplete, and slowly they advanced on Agnea.
“Vapid little dancer. You know what suffering she has endured, and what suffering she has caused.”
“Ngh—!” Agnea groaned as she dodged a blow from a wolf-like creature, its claw just barely grazing her arm. Blood gushed from the wound, a bright red against the smoky violet. With a brief chant she summoned her wind magic to blast the monster away, and slashed at another lunging for her with her dagger. Throné had taught her this stance, she remembered, and it wasn’t much different from dancing.
(“You have the fundamentals down,” Throné had said to Agnea as she held Agnea’s hand to guide her through the motions. “But are you sure?”
“What do you mean?” Agnea asked.
“You said your mother taught you how to dance. You would be taking what you learned from her and applying it to violence.”
Carefully Agnea pressed her free hand to Throné’s cheek. “You said it yourself - this journey will be dangerous.” She paused, remembering what happened inside the Snowhares’ den in Winterbloom. “I want to be stronger, so that I can better help you and everyone else.”
Throné could only let out a resigned sigh, but her smile was true. “If that is your wish.”)
“She killed her family for that ‘freedom.’ She will never escape the stench of blood, nor will her hands ever be clean.”
A monster rammed into Agnea, knocking her to the ground, and she was just barely able to roll of the way before it crushed her. With both hands she stabbed her dagger into the side of its neck, and its body writhed in pain before vanishing into violet smoke. More monsters emerged from the shadows cast by the dark flames, and her muscles began to ache and scream. “You don’t… understand anything about Throné…” she forced out between heavy breaths.
“And you do? What would you know of suffering?”
Monsters of shadow snarled and lunged for Agnea. Over and over she dodged their strikes and summoned her wind magic to defend herself. There seemed no end to these creatures of night, but she couldn’t give up. She had to defeat them all and find a way to save Throné, and then they could all bring back the dawn.
“Why do you keep fighting? Not even the eight gods could truly destroy me, so what hope does one as weak as you have?”
“I’m not weak…!” Agnea forced out through gritted teeth, and she blasted wind magic at a falcon-like creature that flew too close. Though the wound on her arm had stopped bleeding, now caked with dry blood, it still pained her.
“You are naught but a frivolous dreamer. Your ‘hope’ is a mere illusion. Remember those who have suffered and fallen on your journey, those without hope.”
Agnea slumped to her knees, and the monsters surrounded her, watching her with mocking gazes. Kaldena, brought to ruin by a misplaced desire for revenge. A nameless jackal tortured into insanity and twisted into a horrible monster. Trousseau, crushed beneath the burden of grief. Kazan, Hikari’s friend who had never truly believed in his ideals. Ori, sacrificing herself out of despair to bring about this endless night. Tanzy, callously murdered by the woman she loved after rejecting the dawn. The Moonshade Order, who wished to sentence all to death.
“What can do you for this miserable world? Your dream is meaningless.”
Wispy tendrils of shadows curled around Agnea, tendrils of little substance and yet their cold felt as heavy as lead. With a great effort she raised her head, and saw that Throné’s eyes had opened, a dazed expression on her face. A chain made of shadow curled around Throné’s bare throat, and it tightened, biting into the vulnerable flesh. Throné’s eyes grew wide and she tried to thrash against the chain choking her, and saliva trailed from her lips.
“There is no freedom from suffering. But I am a merciful god, and I can grant you all the salvation of oblivion.”
“No!” Agnea screamed, jerking herself free of the wispy shadows binding her. The cold pierced her skin like needles, but she ignored that pain as she shot to her feet. Even if she was just a mere dancer and Throné a thief, there was a reason the gods counted Sealticge and Aeber among their ranks. She remembered how sincerely Throné had smiled while watching her dance at the Grand Gala. Their journeys together hadn’t been for nothing. “I will save Throné, and we will make the sun rise! Winds of favor, blow!”
With the magic gifted to her from the hidden altar of the Lady of Grace, the winds cut through Throné’s bindings and carefully lowered her to the ground. Agnea caught Throné in her arms and pressed her ear to Throné’s chest, and the sound of Throné’s heartbeat had never sounded so sweet.
“Foolish girl… You would deny her salvation?”
“That’s not salvation,” Agnea spat. “You’re just obsessed with punishing others to feel better about yourself!”
The voice roared and the dark flames sparked and flared. The shadow monsters advanced closer, and Agnea realized she had little magic left to summon, not nearly enough to defeat them all. With one arm she held Throné tightly while her other hand brandished her dagger, and she could not stop herself from trembling.
“Darkness, descend.”
A warmer, gentler shadow fell upon the dark flames, smothering them. Agnea knew that darkness, the darkness of a star-filled night, the darkness that promised a new dawn. Clutching her bruised throat, Throné got to her feet and drew her own dagger with her free hand, and a familiar smirk graced her lips. “I never thought the cost of freedom would be so high,” she said, her voice rough, “and I know I’ll never be able to forget the scent of blood. But that’s precisely why I can’t let this freedom be wasted.” Her smirk widened. “Pirro would never forgive me.”
“Throné!” Agnea exclaimed. Throné’s dark magic held the monsters in place, but not for much longer.
“Thank you.” Throné offered her hand to Agnea. “For believing me worthy of hope.”
Agnea accepted Throné’s hand and Throné helped her to her feet. Her magic was nearly spent, but she still had her dagger and the skills Throné had taught her, and with Throné by her side, that had to be enough.
The monsters finally broke free of Throné’s dark magic, but with the violet flames gone no more emerged from the shadows. Though Agnea had little strength left, Throné had strength to spare, and she made short work of the shadowy creatures with both her dagger and dark magic. Unlike the poison violet of this unnatural night, Throné’s dark magic was beautiful with surprising tenderness, but also ruthlessly protective, and the monsters could not strike either her or Agnea. Seeing Throné like this, Agnea remembered why she felt so much braver at night when beside her.
Thus she couldn’t let Throné fight alone.
Soon only one monster remained, a hulking behemoth. It advanced slowly yet carefully, its hollow eyes focused on the two women. Agnea took Throné’s hand into hers, and Throné simply nodded. Their other hands pointed their daggers at the monster, and they summoned forth their magic; Agnea had at least this much left to spare. A dance of wind and dark, verdant green and royal violet, engulfed the large monster, tearing it apart until nothing remained but black mist.
For a moment, neither spoke, and Agnea fell to her knees, exhausted. “Agnea!” Throné cried, worry clear in her dark eyes as she knelt beside Agnea. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Agnea replied with a smile. “I’m glad you’re safe, Throné.”
Throné also smiled. “I’ve come too far to fall in a place like this.”
Lightly Agnea pressed her fingers to Throné’s throat, feeling the bruising that marred the flesh. “Does it still hurt…?”
“Only a little bit. I’ll be fine, so please don’t worry.” Throné laid her hand over Agnea’s. “What a tantrum unbecoming of a god. If even Claude rejected becoming his vessel, then what hope did he have of me accepting?”
Agnea couldn’t help but chuckle, weak as it was. “Even gods can’t help but hope, I suppose.”
“Aggie! Néné!”
The shadows had vanished from the top of the stairs, and Mahina flew toward them and perched on Throné’s shoulder. Throné stroked Mahina’s beak with her finger, and Ochette and Hikari rushed down the stairs toward her and Agnea. “Good, you both appear unharmed,” Hikari said with a slight smile.
Throné helped Agnea to her feet. “Are the others safe too?”
Hikari nodded. “They’re just up ahead. We can rest a bit after we regroup.”
“And then we finish this!” Ochette exclaimed with a smirk. “For Toto’haha and everyone else!”
Agnea and Throné followed Ochette and Hikari up the stairs with Mahina flying above them, and Throné’s fingers were tight around Agnea’s, and Agnea felt them trembling slightly. Agnea gave Throné’s hand a gentle squeeze; no matter what, the eight of them would bring back the dawn.
The stars seemed brighter after the Grand Gala, Agnea thought. After night fell, she and Throné snuck away from the celebrations to the Stage of the Moon and Sun in the Shrine of Ul’sterra. They sat together upon the edge of the stage, and Agnea held Throné’s arm and rested her head against Throné’s shoulder. During her performance, she couldn’t deny she’d been most drawn to Throné’s smile, or how that smile had lit a new kind of warmth within her chest.
To see Throné smiling so sincerely after all that they had seen on their journeys - words alone couldn’t express how thankful Agnea was to see such a beautiful sight. Her gaze lingered on Throné’s lips, and she realized with a jolt how much she wanted to kiss those lips. Her eyes trailed further downward, toward Throné’s large breasts, and she thought of all those private fantasies she’d entertained late at night.
“Your family and neighbors are certainly a kind bunch,” Throné said, finally breaking the silence and startling Agnea.
“Eheh, I wasn’t expecting to see all of them here!” she exclaimed with a giggle, and she hoped it was dark enough that Throné couldn’t see how red her cheeks had grown. “But I guess when I told Giselle I was from Cropdale, she really believed I’d make it to the Grand Gala and went to gather them with her troupe.”
“All the connections you’ve made on your journey helped you shine brightest.” Throné let out a low chuckle. “But it’s not so surprising. You’re a dreamer with the power to move hearts, after all.”
“Oh, Throné, you’re makin’ me blush…”
“‘Even the goddess has her eye on you.’ Giselle’s friend is correct - no one is more blessed by the Lady of Grace than you are.”
(Not long afterwards would Agnea realize the true meaning behind Tanzy’s words, but in this moment, she was still ignorant.)
Agnea’s gaze fell upon Throné’s bare throat, no longer bound by that cruel collar. “I promised you, didn’t I?” she whispered. “That I would shine brightest for you.”
“A friend told me once that we need to find some joy in our lives, no matter how dismal they might be. I can’t say I agreed with his fondness for smoking, but I think I understand what he meant now.” Throné laid her hand on Agnea’s hair, and her smile was faint in the moonlight. “Thank you, Agnea.”
Agnea’s cheeks grew warmer, and she found herself thinking she would do anything to protect Throné’s smile. They sat together a little while longer under the stars, and when the dawn came, the end of their journeys was soon approaching.
Between confronting an evil god of legend and taking back the dawn, perhaps it was little surprise that Agnea felt too restless to sleep. Thus shortly before dawn she left her cabin and headed above deck, and she passed Hikari on the way, who gave her a gentle smile. It was a relief to see - although he now knew the truth about Kazan and grieved for his fallen friend, he still wished to press forward with his ideals. Thus was the power of hope, her mother would say.
The Grand Terry would be docking at Canalbrine within a day, and the crew had been relieved and moved to tears upon seeing the eight travelers return from Vidania. That dark castle had sunk back into the sea so completely that it was like it had never risen at all. Perhaps in time people would begin to think of that long night as no more than a mere nightmare, but Agnea and her companions would never forget.
As the clear night sky greeted her, she immediately spotted Throné standing at the side of the deck. “Throné,” she greeted with a small smile, “you couldn’t sleep either, huh?”
Throné let out a quiet chuckle, a sound that Agnea had grown to love. “To be honest, I’m surprised any of us can sleep.”
Agnea was fairly certain that Partitio and Ochette at least could sleep through and after most anything. “It almost doesn’t feel real,” she said, laying her hands on the railing and staring at the reflection of the stars upon the water. “We stood against the wicked god and lived.”
“Not bad for mere mortals,” Throné smirked, and lightly she pressed her fingers against the bandages around Agnea’s arm; thanks to Castti, that wound no longer pained her. “But I wasn’t fighting for any noble reason. I sacrificed much for this freedom, so I couldn’t let it all be wasted.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you.” Agnea laid her hand over Throné’s. “We all have our reasons for the dawn.”
With her free hand Throné touched her throat, and slight bruising from the chains of shadow that had tried to strangle her were still visible. “Yes, for the dawn…”
“We really did it, huh…?” Agnea suddenly couldn’t stop herself from shaking, and her eyes ached. “We made the sun rise, but it’s not the end, is it? We lost so many, who we didn’t even know were hurting…” Her shoulders quaked, and no longer could she stop her tears. Both exhaustion and relief washed over her, and it took all of her willpower to simply remain standing. “And there’s still so much suffering and evil in this world too…”
“You’re right, bringing back the dawn is just a start.” Throné put her arms around Agnea, and Agnea sobbed into the crook of her neck. “And I know better than most what evil still lurks in the shadows.” She paused a moment, and Agnea felt how her hands trembled as she threaded her fingers around Agnea’s hair. “I might’ve let myself be consumed by the darkness too. I’ve done some terrible things, you know, and that can’t be forgotten. But still I desire the dawn.”
Agnea slipped her arms around Throné’s back and inhaled deeply to take in her scent, a mix of night and blood. “You are a kind woman,” Agnea muttered against her skin.
“Alone, I might not have gotten this far.” Throné slid her fingers beneath Agnea’s chin to lift her gaze, and a faint, longing smile came upon Throné’s lips. “But that’s true of all of us, isn’t it?” Thus with those words she bent to press her lips to Agnea’s.
Throné’s lips were as warm and soft as Agnea had imagined. Over and over she and Throné kissed, and a new kind of hope blossomed between them. “I’m just a dancer,” Agnea said softly as their lips parted. “Am I really so grand…?”
“Of course,” Throné said without hesitation, and again she touched the bandages around Agnea’s arm. “You’re strong too, and brave enough to stand up to an evil god to save me and the world. Thank you, truly.”
Carefully Agnea touched Throné’s slender throat, letting her fingers curl around the pale flesh. With a gentle smile Throné laid her hand over Agnea’s, and against her palm Agnea could feel Throné’s pulse. Her breath caught in her throat, and more than ever she was glad to have set out on this journey. “I love you, Throné,” she whispered as she brushed her lips against the side of Throné’s neck.
When the sun rose again, they were sure to greet it together.