Carrying Her Home

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Kent always helped those in need, man or woman alike. He was more than glad to be her legs when she couldn't walk. Kent/Florina. The knight rescues the young woman in her time of need, but she saves him from himself in kind…

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Please read this story at your leisure, and review if you wish. Above all, enjoy!

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Part I (of II)

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Florina sat under the healthy blooming canopy of the cherry tree, her back resting against the rigid bark. She looked up into the near distance, staring up into the sky and sighing gently as she did so. It was an off-day, one of the rare, precious few days of respite in this turbulent little conflict; it was a beautiful, clear, near-cloudless day, perfect for a flight just for the sake of flying.

Lately, she hadn't had much time to fly on her own terms; now, she eagerly awaited the moment when she and Huey would take to the sky, wings soaring and cutting through the blue sky, his feet kicking in a frenetic form of propulsion, her legs wrapping tight around his body and her hands caressing the pegasus' finely preened feathers. It had been a busy war, with little time for leisure or tending to one's own whims. Therein lied the rub.

So presently, she rose from her grounded perch and made her way on to the grove where the pegasi and wyverns were tied. She strode forth with a liberated, optimistic walk, and across the clearing where Merlinus and his convoy had set about resting for the day. All around, the members of Eliwood, Hector and Lyn's fighting troupe did this and that, walking here and there, doing such things now and then. The demure little pegasus girl passed by her companions, male and female, to whom she replied with varying degrees of timidity.

"Florina!"

"Aah!"

Florina nearly leapt into the air in surprise, and clutched her hands to her face as she whirled around, seeking the voice's owner.

"Florina!"

"Ah…Lyn!"

The beautiful young Sacaen woman strode up to Florina at some pace, a pleasant demeanor settled about her. She was…invigorated, a fresh floral scent wafting about her hair and person like summer air. She threw her brilliant hair back and it swooshed through the air like a gust of green wind. Lyn clasped her young friend's hands into hers, as gentle as a cool breeze, and smiled to her with the gentleness she reserved mainly for the purpose of the meek.

"How are you, Florina? I haven't had much time to speak to you lately. I trust you've been well?"

"Ah…Lyn! I've been fine!" Florina piped, greeting Lyn's smile with one of her own to match, a comfortable smile she was seldom seen comfortable enough to utilize. "I'm just going to go out for a flight with Huey today. The skies are beautiful, and I'm sure I can get a fine view of the land from above here!"

Lyn countered by widening her own smile. "Oh, how nice, Florina! But…be careful, alright? You never know if there's an archer or two hiding in the underbrush or behind a rock."

"Don't worry, Lyn! I've gotten better at spotting archers from afar! Oh, Lyn…I'll make sure not to worry you again! I promise."

Lyn nodded contently and stepped away in the other direction, craning her neck here and there as if she were looking for someone. Caught up in a moment of contemplation, Florina noted the pleasant smell of flowers wafting around Lyn's hair and briefly wished her own smelled as fresh, as beautiful, as modest.

There! Just…there. Had she caught it? Had the timid girl caught sight of envy in the air, floating about her own eyes, as very green as the cascade of hair Lyn left in her wake? There, again, a feeling she was all too familiar experiencing and far too detached to speak of aloud.

Lyn…do you fear for me? Do you fear for me the way I irrationally fear for you. You can take care of yourself, Lyn, but if I…if I were not to return, would you be…

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The small grove, pleasantly situated on a slight downhill, was a nice change of pace from the plains of the wooded highland. The ground here was fresh, mildly damp from the moisture clinging to the mighty firs above, and covered in sweet dirt, fallen leaves, and various wooded standbys that wove a pleasantly soft and mild carpet. Somewhere in the center of the grove (beyond where our heroes' pegasi were tethered) was a demure, crystalline lake that fed in from a larger lake in the mountains on the distance.

Earlier, our own Florina and Lyn walked there together and filled several canteens full of the crystal water, bringing them back as prized rations for the brave soldiers among them. Those freed from the unfavorable chains of standard ration water had the inclination to view the two returning women as goddesses; good-tasting water was a surprisingly pleasant boon. Sain in particular latched on to the phrase "Wondrous Water Goddesses" and made use of it until he was nearly as blue in the face as the water he drank.

Florina, making her way to the tether point, found the distinct markings on the trees indicating the way, and in short time found the place, with little difficulty or strain.

The place was a small clearing in the middle of the grove, and though there were trees here and there, it would not be difficult for Florina and her pegasus to launch into the air, and once they were airborne, they would soar high above the trees without concern. She found Huey gentle nuzzling the tree to which he was tethered, nibbling tenderly on the remainder of the food that had been allowed to him. Accompanying him were Florina's sisters Fiora and Farina's pegasi, as well as Heath's wyvern Hyperion, all self-maintaining and entertaining themselves well, all calm and well behaved in their masters' absences. Murphy in particular seemed at ease, happily fluttering its wings and neighing contently. Florina did not take note of this, but it was assured almost everyone else in the party would have both known and realized why Farina's pegasus would be so happy in her absence.

"Ah, Huey!" Florina said, smiling and saddling up her pegasus. She reached into her bag and pulled out a treat for him, which he accepted graciously, and responded to her kindness by nuzzling her face. She giggled softly and embraced the beast's head lovingly.

"How are you today, Huey? Oh, you're such a good pegasus!" she cooed. Unburdened by her shyness, she was completely at ease in the presence of the pegasus, even going so far as to initiate conversation. She loved her pegasus.

Florina mounted the beast, strapped herself in, and leaned forward, pressing her hands against his sides. Being learned in his rider's ways, Huey kicked himself into the air, and together they launched into the brilliant azure skies, like a bird free from its cage, eager to rise ever upwards, onwards.

At the very edge of the clearing, Huey propelled himself upward, above the line of trees, and now Florina and her mount flew through the air at a steady pace, his legs kicking and wings flapping gently; her legs wrapped around him, her hands on his head, looking over the landscape in bliss. They were nearly reaching the ceiling, the pinnacle of height their flight could reach, and from here, it almost seemed as though the whole world had shed its cover and opened its arms to them.

"Ah! Just look at the scenery here, Huey!" Florina remarked as they flew, looking down at the forest as it zoomed ever along, and further on, into the mountains thick with mist and the plains that formed with rivers and painted a natural portrait on a natural canvas.

But as she flew, watching the land zoom by as she flew further north, away from the camp, she began to feel an acute sense of loneliness. It was unconditionally lonely here, in the skies where no one flew, where she and her pegasus were alone amongst the sound of beating feet, of wings, and of rushing wind, and the occasional bird flying by. Florina kept good company here, but still, it was no substitute. No substitute…

Florina loved the scenery. She loved its natural beauty, how everything seemed to meld together in nature's special way, how it stretched infinitely underneath Huey's wings, how they rose high above it, and yet kneeled low before its majesty.

But…there was an emptiness here, an emptiness on her canvas, separate from the rich, lush fullness of the canvas below, upon which she set her roving, lonely eyes upon. She sought companionship, not merely someone with whom to share a view such as this with, but someone with whom she felt comfortable. Because, as hard as she tried, as much as she wished to meld in with the inevitabilities of life, she could not acclimate herself to war.

Oh, she desired so much to be able to fly beside her proud sisters- Fiora, the honorable soldier; Farina, the prideful mercenary. She had never wanted to surpass them, but she did not want to stand in their shadows either. Serving as a knight in Caelin's army only opened her eyes further to the rigors and realities of battle. She didn't want to fight, but she could hardly afford to lay down her weapons. There were so many people she wanted to protect, so many people she wished to look up to, and so many people whom she owed, that to roll over and give up on inevitability was…simply unforgivable.

"Oh, Huey…" she said, pressing her face closer to his warm neck and feathers, "I just want…to help them. I just want to be strong, so I can protect them. Lyn, Kent, Sain, Wil, and all the others. But why am I…why I am so…"

In her lamenting, her trouble she kept merely to please others, her pain she bore simply so that she could ease the pain of others, she was unaware of the men standing on a crag in the clearing below, watching. She flew on for several minutes, then turned in mid-air and flew south, back toward her camp. And the men, who served only to please themselves, who delivered pain and weight unto the shoulders of others for their own benefit, stood watching- and waiting.

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Kent, dutiful knight of the guard, walked forth through the camp. It was a grassy clearing, Merlinus's tents strewn about on the grounds here and there as relaxation spots. As the knight walked, his red armor held tight to his body, his red hair brushed back and out of his hair, he could still hear the words of an elder of his. He was not his general, per se, but one who commanded attention and respect; one who kept his best interests in mind. His wise words echoed in his mind freely. Kent bore those words there, even if he had not allowed his heart to become involved in the interpretation of their meaning.

"Sir Marcus!"

The knight of Pherae turned from his workbench where he had set about to sharpen his implements. His steel lance lay there, its point becoming keener and more defined with every touch of the coarse grindstone and the small sharpening blade. He noticed young Sir Kent and greeted him with a firm smile and an outstretched hand.

"Ah, Kent! Well met!" the purple-haired knight said, who had served two lords yet and could easily serve a third should his lord bear a child…

"The same, Sir Marcus," Kent replied, returning the handshake- a firm, respectable one- and bowing deeply. "I have come to ask you something."

"Of course, Kent. Expect an honest answer," the elder knight added with a smile.

"Yes, sir. You see, the issue is…in your honest opinion, have I…have I upheld my duty and honor as a knight?"

"Hmm…in what way, Kent?" asked Marcus, a contemplative look brushing his visage. "You seem quite dutiful. You hone your skills dutifully, you fight with caution and poise, as is your duty, and you speak with the honor of those befitting a man of duty. You seem to be coming along quite beautifully in your sense of duty! And your honor is unflinching, unquestionable. Your good deeds and keen skills have not gone unnoticed, son."

"Yes, sir. I see, well…" Kent paused for a moment, and hung his head. Then, he raised it, and spoke again. "Sir Marcus, I have made it a distinct point not to become attached or romantically involved with anyone during the course of this war. Even before this greater conflict began with the disappearance of Lord Pherae, I…made a point not to put myself in a situation where I would be, for lack of a better word, tempted. But, I feel that I…that I perhaps have been too unsociable, that I have perhaps been too taciturn or oblivious with the ladies. Even if my tone may be pleasant, I fear that I might seem…cold, distant. I beseech you, good Sir Marcus, that you may give me your advice?"

Now Marcus paused, and thought. Kent stood and waited, nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Finally, Marcus seemed to come to a satisfactory answer, and spoke.

"Kent, what you must understand about a knight's oath is this: the oath of a knight is one of fealty to his lord. You owe a tremendous loyalty to that lord, a willingness to put yourself in harm's way for that lord's sake. You must do what you can to uphold your duty, to protect your lord, and to serve under any and every circumstance. Yet, do not forget that you are a man, as well as a knight. You are not like many of our enemies, an emotional construct without feeling or heart. Keep that humanity close in your mind, keep your emotions true in your heart. Treat everyone equally. And, should you find yourself falling in love, make sure never, ever to let your personal feelings interfere with your sense of duty. But…don't forget that love, and don't ignore it. Because loyalty to yourself is only second to the loyalty of your lord."

"Sir Marcus, I…I understand," Kent replied, after a contemplative pause. "I…thank you. I feel enlightened having sought your guidance."

Kent bowed deeply with the utmost of respect.

"Any time," Marcus said, with a smile. "If you ever need my guidance, feel free to speak with me, child. You are a fine young man."

"Thank you, Sir Marcus. I will."

Kent turned his head up. He had heard what Sir Marcus had said, and had taken it to heart, but…old habits died hard. His heart was a dangerous thing, it was clear. As much as Sir Marcus urged him to open himself up a bit and acknowledge his feelings, Kent still felt reluctant. He was afraid.

Still, he swallowed a lump in his throat, and loosened his collar. He didn't know what to do next, but perhaps he would try to strike up a conversation with someone…

"Kent!"

The knight, who had been called, stopped in his tracks and turned about. One of his lords, the lady under whom he had served for a year, rushed forward to greet him.

"Kent!" Lyn repeated, brushing back a bit of her long, green hair, "I've been looking for you!"

"What is it you wish to speak to me of, milady?" the knight replied.

"What have you been doing today?" she asked, smiling warmly and waiting for a response. She noticed the distinct amount of discomfort Kent seemed to bear, how he stood ramrod straight but trembled, how he seemed to be sweating unusually much, and how he kept clearing his throat nervously. "Are you…quite alright?"

"Y-yes, milady. I've- erhem- been speaking to Sir Marcus, and prior to that, I've been practicing my…swordplay."

If Lyn didn't know him any better, she might have thought he was smitten with her for all the incompetent babbling and stuttering he was exhibiting. Those were, after all, quite obvious signs. Still, he had shown no interest in her beforehand, so she had no rational reason to believe as such. Besides, it was, after all, Kent. Simply by looking at him, Lyn came to the (quite accurate) conclusion that he was a bit overworked, and nothing more.

"Kent, you've been running yourself ragged lately!" she said, in a way that sounded much like a mother doting playfully on her child. "Today is a day of rest. You've time to practice your swordsmanship some other time. Please, take some time to yourself to relax. Take a walk, clear your head! Ease yourself, ease your mind."

Ah, milady…you don't know how dearly I need to ease the mind of mine, but-

"With all due respect milady, I"- Kent paused for a moment. He had nearly regressed to his old ways; he had nearly forgotten about what Sir Marcus had spoken to him of. So, reluctantly, he nodded his head, closed his eyes, and sighed very lightly. "I thank you, milady. I appreciate that gesture. So, if…I may take your leave?"

"Of course, Kent!" Lyn replied. "In fact, I command you to!"

Now it was Kent's turn to break into a smile.

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"Here she comes, from the south."

The archer stood on the high rock in what might be described as an almost trance-like state. His eyes peered observantly into the distance like, and nothing else functioned. This man's eyes were like looking-glasses, like lenses that peered so far into the distance that even the king of Bern in his faraway castle would have felt he was being gazed at, should he have been aware (and been in this man's line of sight). This looking man was tall enough to see the sky from a good vantage point, thin enough to bound his way nimbly up the crag, and dressed in dark green garb that hid him well amongst the foliage of this great forest. His hair was short and black.

He was one of the men- one of the men who fought for the sake of fighting, who fought for money, who fought for greed, who fought for their own stupid, selfish reasons. But this man, he was a man who stood always looking off into the horizon, even if the sky was far away from his roving eyes. And not a day went by that he did not look off into that great horizon and called it a sin he would never reach that height. He was faceless, nameless, unimportant- a bit player on the stage of life. He was known by his bow, and nothing more.

This particular great height, the great rock on which this man stood, extended as a crag, and stretched up many, many feet into the sky. He stood at the apex of the peninsula, and stared up at the sky above the canopy to the south. He was ever vigilant, waiting patiently for her arrival.

The pegasus rider approached at a constant pace.

That man, the archer, saw the pegasus and could make out, even from this distance, the figure of the rider. It was a small young woman with flowing lavender hair, and she rode what appeared to be a male pegasus, a strong but somewhat smallish one with an ample amount of feathers and a strong neck. The rider seemed to be pressing her face against the pegasus's, perhaps out of fatigue. The rider showed good form- she seemed to have been well trained; perhaps she was a veteran of combat. And she rode quickly and fluidly at a good clip, though it seemed their speed was being stifled by something…

"A pegasus? So, they were right," the burly man who stood behind the archer in the black hair vocalized. "They said one pegasus from the south. Good eyes, huh? Does it look like a member of Ilia's Pegasus Brigade?"

The archer shook his head. "It doesn't look it. Ilian pegasus knights usually wear distinct outfits, and their pegasi are usually marked in some way. Also, Ilian pegasi trained for battle are generally larger than more domestic types of pegasi. This one has none of those indications. But the rider has good form in riding, and is setting a good pace, so it looks like she's seen battle. Maybe a mercenary? Still, it's a very small beast. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's perhaps a civilian rider, or…"

"Or what?" the burly man barked, scratching his nose and looking at the forest around him. His time was obviously better spent somewhere else. "What else could it be?"

"Or perhaps it's merely the pegasus of a girl who just doesn't like such…big things. Hmm, imagine that ever happening! That's unheard of!" Our archer smiled wryly and watched as the rider came closer and closer.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, huh?" asked the other man, when all of a sudden, his fellow motioned him to duck. Both did so, and the pegasus flew straight overhead, not noticing them at all.

"Close one," The archer noted, still grinning. He watched with an eagle's eye as the pegasus continued its flight north, and now stared northward to follow its path.

"Close one? What the hell? She was up there above the tree line! She wasn't looking down at us, and there was no way she'd have hit us!" vociferated the burly man, now stroking his stubble very vigorously out of emotion. He was both impatient and angry at the moment, and perhaps he hadn't…carved anybody up lately, so his…frustration might've just overwhelmed him as he spat out his words. "And what's more, you could have shot that damned wench down right there, if you wanted! Nailed her! Why'd you hold back?"

"Because," the archer said, still watching the pegasus as it flew away. He spoke with in a calm manner, ignoring his fellow's frustration. "It's not an Ilian rider. We couldn't have made any money off of their royal accoutrements. And there's no reason to believe that she was carrying such a great amount of money. And besides," he grinned, his amusement hidden from the angry man,

"We're mercenaries, aren't we? Shouldn't we be holding ourselves to a 'higher standard'?"

The burly man, scowled and grunted. He jumped at the opportunity to let loose his chiding spiel, to release upon his lesser the word of law.

"'Higher standard' my ass! We sell ourselves out to the highest bidder. Our work is killing people. Our gold is given to us by rich bastards who want people dead from their own selfish reasons. Our 'bonuses' are the possessions found on the dead man's stinking corpse. Our home bases are the barracks of war. And our 'element' is the bloody, raw battlefield, amongst the corpses of our targets. Now tell me, smart-ass. How the hell is that supposed to be a 'higher standard'?"

The boss man spit on the ground and smirked behind the archer's (who was his subordinate in this bastard order) back. "You knew what you were getting into when you joined up with us, too. So don't bring this 'higher standard' nonsense up. You'll just make yourself think about what you're doing, which'll never work. So, next time that pegasus comes by, shoot it down."

"If I recall, she's not a target,' the archer replied, tweaking the string of his bow. His expression had settled into the emotionless, pursed-lip expression he was known for. "We don't get anything from killing her, do we?"

"The spoils of war. Whatever she's got," boss man shot back. "And if she's still breathing when she hits the ground, that could be…a lot." Smirk.

The faceless, unimportant archer said nothing, but merely thought, and this is the way of the world? Perverted temptation and bloodshed? Mercenaries? These guys are more like ruffians, common thugs.

"Besides," the big boss added, "that's an order from a superior. You know what happens to derelicts of duty?"

"Right," our archer said dryly. "Indeed."

The pegasus came along from the north, flying south. He could feel his boss's eyes boring into him from behind. He sighed helplessly, notched an arrow into his bowstring, and waited for the beast to fly above.

"Here goes…nothing."

Thwang!