Chapter Text
The burst of Magefire hit Sleipnir squarely in the chest. The mighty horse stumbled mid-gallop, throwing his rider over his head as he crumbled to dust. Odin hit one of the stone barricades with a disheartening crack. Wheezing and coughing, he made no attempt to sit up. The numb chill beneath his waist told him it would be a futile endeavor.
This wouldn’t be the first time he’d been dealt a defeat that ended in his death, nor even the first time he’d died with regrets, but that didn’t make it any easier to face. He’d grown especially attached to this particular castle, first as its Guardian and king, and then as its Esper general.
A silver-gloved hand hauled him further behind the barricade and eased his horned helmet off. His savior collapsed backward with a strained grunt and Odin found himself staring at Baron’s king, spattered with blood and streaked with dirt and sweat. His ward in a previous life, he’d started Cecil down a dark path, much to his eternal shame, but the young man had the strength of character to pursue something better all on his own. Now he was the best king Baron had seen in generations.
Odin took a rattling breath to tell him so, but Cecil beat him to speaking.
“It’s a grave injury. We have to get you to the healers.” He winced and clenched his teeth. “Just give me a moment to—”
“I am wounded past healing.” Odin cut him off with surprising gentleness. “My kind have a way of surviving death, but I am beyond even that.”
“What would you have me do, my liege?”
“You are the liege now, Cecil. I have not been your king for many years.”
From where he slumped beside the dying Esper, Cecil groaned and pressed against the wound in his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping relentlessly to the packed earth below. “Apologies. Old habits… General.”
Odin nodded. “Better.” He coughed again, blood splashing over his chin. “I think you will soon follow me.” Cecil acknowledged his grim prognosis with closed eyes and a sigh. “I will offer you the same deal the guardian of Baron Castle offered me when Cagnazzo slaughtered us so many years ago.” Racking shudders overtook him for a moment. Clenching his fists, he willed himself to extend his gauntleted hand. “Take on my mantel of power and we may both live on. Your physical strength and warrior’s spirit will house my magic, and in turn, my magic will sustain your life.”
Cecil’s already fair complexion had grown steadily paler, now almost grey. Sweat dotted his forehead. “What… of Rosa?”
There was no way to explain the melding of minds and souls that would occur, so Odin gave the reassurance Cecil was asking for. “We will exist as one being – as the Guardian, Odin – and so protect her and everyone else in the castle.”
“She will live.” Cecil blinked away a single tear as he looked skyward. “And she will have Kain to comfort her…” Taking a deep, shaky breath, he locked his silver eyes onto Odin and held out his bloodstained hand. “Do it.”
As soon as their hands touched, a brilliant light flooded the battlefield, blinding enemy and ally alike. Gold and silver glows intertwined and merged, becoming a platinum aurora.
The barricade shattered outward in a hail of wooden shards and stone. Mounted once again on Sleipnir, the new Odin towered over his opponents. Face fully obscured by his horned helmet, he brandished his nocked blade high and let out a battle roar.
“For Baron!” Odin’s bellow shook the castle ramparts. Scattered across the battlefield, Baron’s ragged soldiers echoed the cry and rallied to their Guardian-king.
For Rosa. The whisper stayed locked inside his mind, his alone – hidden remnants of his human heart.
Surging forward, he cleaved enemies in two as if they were made of paper. Mage and monster alike fell to his thirsty blade, clearing a path for his men. When he reached the ridge that separated the castle from the outer plains, he drew up short.
Green grass would sprout with a vengeance when this was all over, but now the field was a barren slush of gore and mud, studded with corpses. Broken weapons jutted out of the ground like jagged headstones and pockets of magic colored the battlefield in unnatural hues.
In the distance, a dark-robed figure snarled and lifted his hands high, malevolent magic pulsing towards the sky.
Odin charged.