This Road is Ours

The room was quiet, save for the soft crackling of a candle set on the bedside table. The faint scent of healing herbs lingered in the air. River lay still against the bed, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath the bandages wrapped around his ribs.

Fiora stood just outside the open doorway, arms folded, watching his unmoving form.

Alvise, standing beside her, let out a quiet sigh. “He’ll be alright. It’s not the first time he’s suffered an injury like this, I suspect.”

Fiora exhaled softly, relief settling in her chest like a gentle weight. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Alvise stepped back, his hands clasped behind him as he regarded her carefully.

The fact he didn’t question her when she came in while pleading didn't mean he wouldn’t offer her a piece of his mind afterwards. And that time was now.

“Lady Fiora… I beg of you to stop this makeshift adventure. That is quiet enough.”

“Alvise—”

“No.” His voice was firmer this time, filled with undeniable concern. “It is far too late for you to be involved in such dangerous affairs. Your father’s name, your family’s legacy—they cannot protect you anymore. There is still time for you to live the last months of this world in peace.”

Fiora smiled faintly, but there was no amusement in it. “…There is no peace to be had if I’m not doing what I can to make the end feel worthwhile.”

“You call danger… amusement?”

“I call travelling amusing.”

“And you still refuse to listen.” Alvise exhaled sharply, “And now, you travel with a man like that.”

At that, Fiora’s brows knitted together. “River isn’t like all the mercenaries you’ve ever known.”

Alvise’s face hardened. “He is like everyone else! You just don’t see it, Lady Fiora! You can’t—”

“I can’t what?!” Fiora’s voice rose sharply, and she turned to fully face him now, her hands clenched at her sides. “The world is ending, Alvise! Do you think I like that? You think I don’t shiver at the thought of dying?”

Alvise inhaled, opening his mouth—

“River is different because he grounds me!” Fiora pressed a hand against her chest, eyes burning. “When I’m with him… I don’t feel like the world is ending. I don’t feel this pressure crushing my chest, this headache of despair clawing at me day after day. When I’m with him, I can just—be. He doesn’t expect me to be anyone I don’t wish to be.”

Alvise stared at her. His lips parted, but no words came.

Fiora’s breath trembled. “I am not ‘Lady Fiora’ anymore. I’m just Fiora. None of those titles mean anything now. And River… this heartless, selfish brute… he lets me be myself.” Her voice softened, almost hesitant. “Because despite the harsh exterior he’s also kind… and protective. And unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.” She swallowed hard. “Most would have abandoned me long ago in his place.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Alvise finally spoke. “You did say he was only with you for revenge, did you not?”

“Even if that’s true… I don’t mind one bit. If he really only wanted that he could very well imprison me and use me in a different manner.”

The older man’s expression wavered. He turned his gaze slightly, as if seeing her for the first time in years. His voice, when he spoke next, was quiet.

“…Perhaps you have grown la—” He stopped himself, eyes softening. “No… Fiora.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you, Alvise.”

Her former attendant hesitated. Then, after a long pause, he sighed, rubbing his temple.

“You do remember when my wife passed, do you not?”

Fiora blinked. The sudden shift in conversation caught her off guard.

“I do… But what of it?”

Alvise’s expression was unreadable. “Back then, I thought my world had collapsed. There was nothing left for me to fight for. No spouse, no children of my own. That’s why I devoted myself wholly to your household. It drowned out the noise. The regrets. The pain.”

Fiora’s throat tightened. “Alvise… I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” He smiled, but it was weary. “I never showed it. And when your father dismissed me… I thought all was lost once more.”

He exhaled slowly. “When the prophecy came, I welcomed the end.”

Fiora stilled.

Alvise looked down at his hands, eyes darkening with something unreadable. “I never cared for this world enough to want to stay in it.”

Silence.

“But now that you’ve arrived…” He finally met her gaze again, something softer in his expression. “I feel strangely content. It seems seeing you grown and strong has given me a sense of closure I never knew I needed. Almost as if the universe is telling me I did something right.”

Fiora didn’t say anything. She simply stepped forward and embraced him. Alvise stiffened for just a moment—before he exhaled, and returned the embrace.

When they pulled away, he studied her face once more, then smiled lightly. “Where are your travels taking you next?”

“Grimhelm. It’s not far from here, but the—”

“The cold,” Alvise finished with a quiet chuckle. “The cold is terrible there.”

She laughed softly.

Before Fiora could speak again, Alvise clapped his hands. “Before your beloved brute awakes, let me fetch some warm clothes for you.”

“Really?” Fiora’s eyes shone. Then, she hesitated—glancing toward the far room, where River still rested.

“…Would it be too much to ask if maybe—”

“Of course, I’ll fetch some for River as well.”

Fiora smiled.

Then, to her surprise, she noticed something subtle in Alvise’s expression.

“You called him by his name.”

“That I did,” Alvise mused, rubbing his chin. “If he is to watch over you until this world meets its end, then I suppose I must acknowledge him as a human being.”

A low grumble interrupted them.

“You know I heard that, right?”

Fiora whipped around just as River leaned against the doorway, his usual smirk in place.

“River!” She raced forward, her expression a mixture of relief and exasperation.

The mercenary tilted his head at her. “You crying?”

Fiora immediately wiped at her eyes, huffing. “I—no! Don’t flatter yourself.”

River snorted, but before he could make another remark, Fiora shook her head and smiled up at him.

“I suppose we’ll never be invited to another ball again, will we?” she mused.

River, still leaning lazily against the doorframe, scoffed. “Thank the gods for that.”

Fiora laughed, and for once—everything felt lighter.

Alvise exhaled, watching the two of them with something almost resembling amusement.

Then, finally, River turned to him.

“…I owe you one,” the mercenary muttered.

Alvise blinked. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Your debt will be repaid as long as you keep this lady safe.”

“Tall order.”

“Hey!”

Yet despite the commotion River’s remark caused, the night was drawing to a close.

“I owe you one too.” River’s gaze travelled to Fiora then, her cheeks tinting slightly at his sincerity.

“Y-You don’t…” she muttered, averting her gaze, “You’re always the one saving me…”

Even still River’s gratitude was genuine. Not only because of what she did, but because of what she said  when she thought he wasn’t listening.

✾

The sun had barely begun to rise when Fiora and River stood outside the tailor’s shop, their packs slung over their shoulders, the chill of morning nipping at their skin. They both had their hoods on, shielding themselves away from faces that might recognise them from last night.

Alvise stood before them, arms folded, eyes brimming with quiet fondness.

“Try not to get into too much trouble,” he said, voice wry.

Fiora grinned. “No promises.”

River adjusted his coat. “We’ll see how it goes.”

As the two turned toward the city gates, Fiora felt a warmth settle in her chest.

The path ahead was uncertain. But for the first time in a long while—she didn’t feel alone. In fact she felt lighter than ever. Accepted. Whole. If the world was going to end, she would make sure she had no regrets before it did.

The road to Grimhelm awaited.