Chapter Text
“These are our terms.”
Clive wouldn’t stop now. Despite grief and fear and tears, he wouldn’t stop. To stop would dishonor the memory of those who died. Cid, the man who saved him. Dion, the man with a story he knew too well. Joshua, the reason his heart wanted to burst. To stop would dishonor the wishes of those waiting for them. Even if he never saw them again. If he never saw Jill again. This was what it meant to live and die on their own terms. They all knew. They all were prepared. They had all put their hopes and dreams and wishes for the future on Clive. He would never forsake that.
Your own terms.
And so with renewed determination he poured more and more aether through his body. Every bit of aether he could summon went to the future. The flames around him burned for the first time he could remember and he screamed. He screamed with pain. He screamed with determination. If this is what it took he would endure any torment.
Endure it.
This was the end of it all and the start of it all. This world would survive. Humans were capable of so much. Clive had seen both the best and worst they had to offer and he chose to hold them to their best now. They would live. He knew this for fact. They didn’t need Eikons or magic. All they needed was each other and those they loved. Hold those dear to you close and you can do anything.
Hold them close.
Live.
Clive would be the first to admit he didn’t fully understand what he was doing with all this aether. Instinct drove him. The flames he chose to consign the old world to drove him onward. They pushed him forward like the hundreds of invisible hands he could feel at his back doing exactly the same. It was so much. He never could have hoped to withstand it alone. If only this amount of aether could bring back those he’d lost to it. Magic might have been good for something at least.
Life.
The sheer agony was fading as the aether continued to flow in an endless flood. It was hard to concentrate on anything. At this point there wasn’t much of him left; he was more conduit than caster. Little by little his being was swallowed in the flames like everything else.
Who…?
These flames could take him if they wished. The flames of Ifrit. Of the Phoenix. Of Rosaria. He would burn himself up along with the rest to remake the world.
Remake? The world?
This was the duty he had chosen instead of the one fate tried to force upon him. To forge a better life for them all.
Better?
From here on their choices would be on their own terms. Clive couldn’t ask for more.
“These are our terms.” It was the last thought he had before the flames burned him away.
Your own terms.
Duty.
Remake the world.
Life.
Love.
Flames.
Endure.
“Your terms. Are. Unacceptable.”
Flames exploded through the room, through the whole of Origin, wiping away everything in their path. Straight to the sky they rose and spread across all of Valisthea. People looked up at the sky everywhere, from Stonhyrr to the Velkroy, the Northern territories to Kanver, the Iron Kingdom to Oriflamme. Any living creature who looked to the sky could see those flames dancing like the aurora fabled in the northern lands. It should have been a sign of the end. What else could it possibly be? Yet not a single soul who gazed upon the impossible was alarmed.
It was beautiful and calm, floating elegantly and effortlessly. Streaks of purple mixed with the orange. Blues mixed with the yellow. Green speckled it all in a mosaic. It pulsed as if alive. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Those who looked to the sky that night saw a masterful painting they committed to memory to share with their children. But a few who watched heard an unearthly cry pierce the heavens and rattle their bones before it vanished entirely.
Clive was somewhat vaguely aware of himself. He could hear and see nothing nor could he move anything. What he was aware of was confusing and jumbled. He felt heavy, heavier than Titan’s stones, and yet light at the same time, carried by Garuda’s winds. The heat of Ifrit suffused him until he thought he might burn while Shiva’s ice cooled him. Odin’s own darkness surrounded him only broken by Bahamut’s own light racing past leaving afterimages like Ramuh’s lightning flashing in the night sky.
It was chaos both within and without and yet he felt completely calm. Racing forward while lying perfectly still. Recalling his entire life in perfect detail but barely clinging to his own name. He had no idea what was happening to him and no desire to think on it. Whatever awaited on the other side of this existence he would deal with later. He was just so incredibly tired…
“Your terms. Are. Unacceptable.” The whisper flitted through his consciousness at lightning speed and vanished into the chaos without him really grasping the words.
Time didn’t seem to have any meaning here. Until it did. With a heavy jolt every conflicting feeling ceased. The innumerable contradictions, the rush of images, even his exhaustion. His memories began returning to their rightful place slowly. Somehow he felt like he was settling into a bed tailored only for him. It was comfortable. Familiar. Yet somehow also a little off.
“Clive!” He heard a man shout.
“Get up, Clive!” a boy called. At least he thought it was two people. The voices sounded far away. He wasn’t completely sure he’d heard them.
Founder, his head hurt. Where even was he? The hideaway seemed too much to hope for if people were calling his name. Something had probably gone wrong. What was the last thing he remembered, anyway? What had he been doing before this?
“I do not think all is well, my lord.” That voice sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t place it. It was familiar but also wrong. Something about it was off, much like everything at the moment. “My lord, please step out of the ring a moment. I may need some space to work.”
“I mean no disrespect, Your Highness, but a bucket of water is enough. He’ll be fine. I promise.”
“I pray you are correct, Lord Murdoch.” Clive’s shallow breathing halted. Those voices. He did know them. They’d haunted his dreams for years. It was completely impossible to be hearing them now. Lord Murdoch died eighteen years ago. And that other voice was…
This was impossible. Except it wasn’t the first time those he loved had been used against him. That was the only explanation. Ultima was trying again. Clive had nearly succumbed the last time. Now to be faced with such illusions again he would not be swayed. He was furious at the audacity. He forced his eyes open, staring dazedly at a clear blue sky. The white walls of Rosalith’s bailey surrounded him. He couldn’t let his gaze linger on them. He wouldn’t let Ultima have the satisfaction of seeing his distress when his home burned again. Ignoring the aches and pains he rolled over and pushed himself onto one knee.
What he saw justified his anger. Lord Murdoch stood on the opposite side of the training ring with a bucket in hand. Looking very much alive. Clive felt a pang of guilt as he always would thinking about the Lord Commander but right now he just glared, disgusted by this latest attempt to control him. Beside Lord Murdoch stood Joshua, ten years old again and looking at Clive with strangely knowing eyes. Clive mentally shook that thought away from himself. He was seeing what he wanted to see. Joshua was dead. The copy of his brother stepped in front of the Lord Commander and raised an arm protectively.
“It is as I feared. Lord Murdoch, I discovered a mishap in which my brother was accidentally given an improper herb as a curative. This herb has been known to cause hallucinations when ingested. I ask you again to exit the ring and allow me to aid my brother. Please move the other Shields back and assure them all will be well.” Founder that didn’t sound right. An adult’s speech from a child’s mouth. Ultima was getting sloppy.
Murdoch looked between the brothers as if to protest yet strangely didn’t. Perhaps it was Clive’s glares or Joshua’s fixed scrutiny of his brother. Either way, while he didn’t leave, he did back away to say something to another Shield. Clive nearly growled when he recognized the other Shield as one who died at Phoenix Gate. Joshua moved into his line of sight to distract him from the others. He moved slowly, arms held unthreateningly out at his sides. A threat it may not have been, but Clive was more than ready to rip this whole illusion apart with Ifrit’s claws.
“Clive. It’s alright.” Joshua dared a small step forward but halted when Clive scowled at him, recoiling slightly.
“You’ll have to do better than this. You should know by now what using my brother against me will gain you in the end. Accept your defeat and begone.” Sword absent, Clive looked to magic. He felt the Eikonic fragments he carried stir within his chest at his prodding.
“Peace, Brother. This is no illusion. You already ended Ultima, did you not?” Hands still at his sides he stepped forward again.
“Not completely, it would seem,” Clive growled.
“Please, Clive. Look around you. See where you stand.”
“I have seen Rosalith burn too many times to believe it stands now.” Joshua’s eyes tightened. “How many times will you try these same tricks? How many times must I put you down before this ends, Ultima? I will not be what you want. Accept it!” The kindness on this specter’s face only made Clive more angry that he’d chosen it. The wound of Joshua’s passing was too deep and far, far too recent. Clive reached for Ramuh, lightning crackling to life in his palm.
“Do not force my hand, Brother,” the specter warned. He remained silent and still a long moment, a temporary standoff as he studied Clive. “Please, put it away.” Clive scoffed. As if he would listen to the advice of an illusion.
As soon as the sound was out of his mouth the specter cloaked himself in ephemeral flames, moving faster than anyone could see to stand right in front of Clive. With no hesitation Joshua grabbed his shoulders and shoved as hard as he could to topple Clive over onto his back. Hands on Clive’s wrists, straddling his chest, and short legs doing their best to keep Clive’s pinned, Joshua held him there.
“Brother you must listen to me! I know you are confused. I share that sentiment. We will address our circumstances at a more appropriate time after you realize that this is no illusion. I am real as is everything you see here. Everything about this bothers me, but I swear to you, Clive, this is not what you think!”
Clive’s hand trembled uncertainly under Joshua’s. There was sincerity in his eyes that Ultima never used. He didn’t understand the concept. Those words finally reached him but it wasn’t what made him tremble. Joshua’s eyes begged him to listen. To trust him. Clive blinked. Suddenly he didn’t see his small little brother. Rather it was his full adult size which pinned Clive to the ground. Clive’s breath caught in his throat. Another blink and the image was gone. He slammed his eyes shut for a moment and shook his head, some small doubt dowsing his fury.
“Joshua?” he whispered. The lightning in his palm evaporated. His brother climbed off of him and helped him sit upright.
“I know not how, but yes.” He glanced over his shoulder to see how far away Murdoch was. Deciding it was space enough, he spoke softly. “I remember giving you the Phoenix and then nothing else until waking here this morning. I thought I had woken in some bizarre afterlife. Yet it was all too familiar. I have been here some few hours now. Time enough to believe this is both real and in our past.” Clive stared in disbelief, mind still trying to wrap itself around this information. “Ah. Come here. The lie I told will need be resolved.” Joshua summoned his flames easily and pressed them to Clive’s chest. They did little, of course, in absence of a real ailment, though it did relieve some remaining pain in his head. “We need play the part a while longer I fear. Do you know what day this is?”
For the first time he looked around. If this was real and not an illusion, then he should know. Jill stood outside the ring looking at him worriedly. Lord Murdoch stood watching the proceedings with a training sword in one hand and forgotten bucket in the other, looking wary. There were fewer Shields around than usual. Some of them must have been out. What he could see from this spot was so minor and insignificant but they were all things he’d thought of often once upon a time.
“Don’t tell me…”
“I believe so, yes. The day before Phoenix Gate. Have you looked down, by the way?” Joshua smirked while Clive looked down. No wonder he felt lighter. He, too, once again looked younger.
“That explains a few things,” he quipped with a small laugh and a smile. Joshua laughed softly then extinguished his flames. He stood, Clive following. He’d never thought to see this sight again. Part of him didn’t want to. What came next was too painful even now. When he looked down at Joshua a more serious expression had gripped his brother as he looked out over the tents.
“If this is real, Clive… Do you think we could do something?” Joshua looked up to lock eyes with him. If they were truly, somehow, in their own past, just maybe…
“Real or not we have to try. We’d never forgive ourselves if we didn’t.” Activity pulled their attention away from each other. Approaching the ring was their mother. They both unconsciously tensed.
“We need play the part a little longer,” Joshua repeated. “We know too little to act rashly.”
“I fear you speak true. I’ll take care of the Lord Commander if you handle her.” Joshua nodded and left the ring, walking as if he still carried his full height and presence. Clive, meanwhile, strode to Lord Murdoch, who had finally put down the bucket and was placing the training sword in the rack.
“Are you well now, my lord?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“I am, thanks to my brother’s quick action. I apologize for alarming you.” Murdoch eyed him carefully.
“Clive,” he half whispered as he clamped a hand on his shoulder. “I would never call either of you boys a liar. But I do know you’ve had no reason for a curative in weeks. You would not be here training now if you’d needed one today. I don’t know what I just saw exactly. I’ve known you both since you were born and so I’m going to trust you long enough to explain to me exactly why you were ready to murder us all until your brother got close.”
“Lord Murdoch?” Annabella interrupted.
“Yes, Your Grace.” With one last meaningful look at Clive, the Lord Commander left to accompany the duchess to the gates.
Clive took a deep breath. What did he know? If Joshua were to be believed, they seemed to have returned to their own bodies of eighteen years prior. Although, not exactly. He still carried all the Eikonic fragments he’d accumulated and Joshua clearly still carried his skill with the Phoenix. Still, there was little denying he felt younger. That was a bizarre sensation. Did that mean everything physical reset while the mental remained the same?
Curious, he pulled his shirt sleeve away from the glove on his right hand to examine his forearm. A particularly nasty wound had left its permanent mark on him during his time with the Bastards. He would have bled out from that wound if not for Biast. While his feelings on his fellow members were somewhat complicated, he was grateful to Biast for his swift action in that regard. The scar, however, was gone. Feelings of utter bewilderment collided with a lack of surprise leaving him strangely numb about the revelation. He didn’t even want to think the conclusion he was drawing, not in so many words. It was too insane! And apparently real? Too insane to think, apparently real, and Lord Murdoch already knew something was wrong. How was he supposed to talk himself out of this corner?
“Clive? Are you alright?” Clive whirled to see Jill standing close, chewing her lip nervously. Founder, how he wanted to scoop her into his arms. He was half a step forward before stopping himself. This wasn’t quite his Jill, was it? She was still young and did not harbor those feelings for him. He’d promised he’d come back to her but this wasn’t what he had in mind.
“I’m alright now. Joshua patched me up.” She nodded, eyes downcast. Probably didn’t believe him. Or could tell something was off about him.
“Come on,” Jill said instead of pressing. “The Archduke is returning. He’ll want to see you.”
Jill easily led the way, not noticing Clive’s shallow breathing. It truly was that day. The last day before the fall. The last day before they were all set adrift for over a decade. Was he ready to see his father again? Could he do this without arousing his suspicion as well? There were just too many unknowns to sort through in too short a time to save everyone. But they would. They had to. Somehow. Clive and Joshua had an opportunity beyond the realm of possibility. There was a chance here. To save every face he passed. To save themselves. To save Rosaria. They could do this.
Your terms are unacceptable. I want…