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Written on July 30, 2019 (♌)

Author's Notes: I am a sucker for any lady knight/princess pairing and I'm super into the fleeting notion that Ovelia might have escaped her tragic fate. I am also committed to writing angsty sad things 24/7, so she does not escape her fate here. :(


Please, Agrias, you will stay, yes?

Ovelia kept thinking of better things she might have said. She was a queen, so she’d been told. How might it have gone to issue a command rather than ask a question? Would Agrias have disobeyed a direct order? Would she have offered some gentle rebuke? Would she have stayed? Every instant of the conversation repeated itself in the fluttering of seconds between its end and the present moment, when Ovelia could just see the distant shape of three knights ascending the sunlit hill that would take them out of sight of the chapel’s ruins.

If she could have left her body and flown to where they walked, what look might she might catch on Agrias’ face? Would she still have that graceful, stoic serenity she’d departed with or might she seem grieved? If she ran now, if she shouted, could she still catch them? She imagined what it would be to leave this place and ride somewhere very far flung from Zeltannia—from Ivalice itself even. Orinus had been carried off to Romanda. Why should somebody not carry her? If she had never been a princess, if she was not now a queen, what did it matter if she disappeared into those far off hills and plains where there were no walls—rushing through the world on birdback, arms around Agrias’ waist, face buried in her hair.

She took a step forward, trying to get a better view of the three women as they reached the summit of the hill. At this distance, it might well be imagination on her part that she saw one of them turn before she finally vanished.

“Come,” Delita said gently, taking her hand unbidden. “We shouldn’t tarry too long here.”


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