Chapter Text
Clive tried, in the morning, to refuse the clothes Hanna offered, but when she had wryly told him that nobody in the village could fit in them, and thus, they would remain in her wardrobe unused and unworn until she moved on to the afterlife, he relented.
"Plus, they belong to you. They were your father's and there is no one else they could go to," she said, accepting his Imperial armor in exchange. "One of the men from the village could likely use your armor when they are patrolling around the village."
His father's clothes, including armor, was of much higher quality than the Imperial armor he'd had. The leather was stiff from disuse, but he knew it would loosen with time.
When he stepped out of the room he'd been changing into, his eyes went first to Jill, whose eyebrows shot up and a smile burst across her face. He wanted to hunch his shoulders and duck his head at her approval, but Hanna came over and fussed at his fastenings, straightening his cloak.
"There," she said, stepping back, nodding at him. "I do wish you could stay a bit longer."
"Thank you, Lady Hanna," Jill said. "But we would like to get to Phoenix Gate before nightfall."
"I understand. You will have to cross the Dim, where the Blight has taken hold, though, so please be careful," Hanna said, handing Jill a small package with some food. They tried again to refuse, but she wouldn't hear of it.
They left her house, and as they walked down the steps, Clive said, "Thank you, Lady Hanna. Perhaps now people will not flee at the sight of me."
Hanna smiled softly. "You look just like Elwin did when he was your age."
"How did you come to have some of my father's old clothes?" Clive asked, looking down at the red and black outfit. Behind him, Jill gestured for Torgal to follow her as she walked a bit away to look at the road they'd need to follow.
"Oh, before Elwin became Archduke, our families would often summer together. He and Rodney were like brothers. These clothes have been in a wardrobe for years, collecting cobwebs along with everything else." Hanna replied.
They began walking together, towards where Jill waited with Torgal.
"Well, I'm very grateful for them, and sorry, for depriving you of your memories." But the outfit had brought up his own memories, of his father wearing similar outfits when he was heading off to fight in the North. He had known that his father and Murdoch were close, but he hadn't known that they'd grown up together.
"Not at all. It's what your father would have wanted."
"They suit you well." Jill commented, causing Clive to scoff self-consciously. But the appreciation in her eyes made him feel warm inside, and he felt like a puppy wagging his tail after receiving a pat from his mistress.
"Thank you, Lady Hanna," Jill said, stepping closer.
"Yes, thank you. You've been most kind," Clive agreed.
"No, I should thank you. It may have only been for a short while, but seeing you again took me back to happier times."
Happier times. Before the Duchess had destroyed everything they knew and loved, which Clive had unknowingly helped with and Jill had paid a price for. Times that neither of them had allowed themselves to think of, because it always lead to memories of Rosaria's destruction.
But their time with Hanna had given them permission to think of those good times, to remember Rosaria as it had been in all of her glory. Not just her end, but when she was alive and strong. When the two of them had been part of that, and they had been happy.
"Fare you well, my lord and lady," Hanna said, dropping a curtsey.
"And you, Lady Hanna," Clive replied, gratitude in his voice. Although he felt sick realizing what he'd done to Murdoch, Hanna had reminded him of something he'd thought was lost: that he was Rosarian and always would be.
And while Rosaria may not be proud of him, her wayward son, he was proud of her.
One day, he vowed, one day I will come home to you and stay.