19vi. ...et pereat mundus
(...though the world perish)
Raphael stares into the sun-drenched blue sky.
His first thought is: I should be dead.
He cannot quite get his head around the fact. He remembers the sword lodged in his gut and the sound of something shattering and the cold that crushed the last beating of his heart. He remembers the world bleached white and his mind and heart and soul emptied out, and then -
he'd opened his eyes and found the sky above him.
At first all Raphael can do is stare, blinking blandly in the bright sunshine. Then he realizes - the sun does not burn his flesh, or sap his strength.
Hesitating, he looks at his gloved hands, caked with dark, dried blood, and pulls them off. His heart jumps at the faint flush of red under the pale flesh, and he raises them, shaking, to his neck, checking his long-dying pulse. It is steady and even, not the sullen sluggish stumble it had once been. He is still for long, long moments, hands against his throat, eyes closed, basking in the simple, delicious feel of his body working once again.
Eventually he opens his eyes again and takes stock of his surroundings. He is still atop the Tower of Remembrance, that much is certain; but the tower is far different from what it had been when he'd first entered. Before, the Tower was merely an extension of the blight afflicting all of Ostrheinsburg, its stones shot through with the poison-pumping veins that had sunk deep into the blood-soaked soil. But now the Tower is covered with a sheen of icy crystals that sparkle brilliantly in the sun, obscuring the blackened stone beneath. It is silent, too, almost deathly so; the only sound comes from his steady breathing.
Raphael stands up slowly, and walks to the edge of the tower. The surrounding land is changed too, the barren soil giving way to a frozen ocean of shining crystal.
Light footsteps break the tower's eerie silence, and Raphael turns to the stairwell leading to the tower interior. The footsteps sound far too light to belong to an adult, and there is something oddly familiar about their gait. A flash of bright red hair peeks through the entrance, and Raphael's heart stops from the shock of sudden joy that fills him at the sight.
"Amy?" he whispers, not quite able to believe his eyes, questions tumbling through his head - how did she get here? why did she come? what has happened to her, had she been in danger - and then she smiles at him, her hand fluttering to her mouth as if she is afraid of making her pleasure so obvious. Raphael falls to his knees, holds out his arms for her, and with a wordless cry Amy runs to him and throws herself into his embrace. Her arms wind around his neck, and she presses her face into the ruffles spilling from his coat. Raphael wraps his arms around her tentatively, still half-believing she will dissolve at his touch, an illusion in this strange dream he cannot wake from.
But he can feel her warmth, hear her heart beating strong in her chest; he looks into her eyes and finds the rusty red that had stained them is gone, revealing the warm mahogany beneath. Amy pulls back slightly, raising a trembling hand to Raphael's face, brown eyes studying him intently.
"You - Amy, I -" He does not know what to tell her; he has no need to voice his joy at seeing her, not when it is written so plainly on his face, and he has no idea of what has happened to cleanse their malfection and buried the world in crystal. "How did you get here, ma puce?" he asks finally.
"Oh, I..." A flush of red stains Amy's cheeks. "...I was worried - I was afraid of being alone. You were gone for so long, and - I came to find you, so...here I am..." She shrugs, shyly, a glimmer of fear in her eyes. "Are you angry?"
"No, of course not - am I ever, my sweet? But -" Raphael pulls back, eyeing her with concern. "You came all this way, by yourself? You have not been hurt, have you?" He looks her up and down, scanning for any signs of injury she may be hiding.
Amy shakes her head. "No, no, I'm fine." Her hand falls to her waist and closes over the hilt of her rapier. "I had Albion with me, and what you taught me - it was more than enough."
"Such a resourceful girl you are," Raphael murmurs fondly, ruffling her soft red curls. He knows he ought to be more firm with her - no matter how skilled she was, she'd put herself in danger and disobeyed his one command - that she stay safe. He could have lost her. But lecturing about loss and danger seem out of place now, on top of the crystalline tower that glitters in the warm sun, with Ostrheinsburg turned silver-white around them. Any rebuke he might have had melts away.
Pleased now that she sure her father is not upset, Amy looks around the crystal tower. "Did you do this?"
Is this the world you told me about? The unspoken words hang in the air, louder than bells in the unnatural hush surrounding them.
Raphael frowns, unsure of how to answer. He does not know what has happened, not exactly, but he has a vague idea of what - and who - could have changed the world so drastically. Unconsciously he presses his hand to his stomach, remembering the cold sword buried inside him, the ice-like hands clamped over his wrists. What had happened to Siegfried? He thought of shaking hands, of eyes shadowed by loneliness and loss; perhaps Siegfried had welcomed the chilly embrace of the crystal that now covered the earth.
Amy tugs on Raphael's sleeve. "Who is that?" she asks, pointing to what looks like a heap of broken prisms on the other side of the tower. But on closer inspection Raphael makes out the darker streak of blond hair and blue cloth amid the glittering shards.
"Someone who should know what has happened," Raphael says. He and Amy approach the fallen knight.
At first Raphael thinks Siegfried is dead, so still is his form; but when he and Amy reach his side they can make out the rise and fall of his chest, the faint movement of eyes under closed lids. The crystal armor that had enveloped him is broken, lying around his body in shattered pieces. The spirit sword lies next to him, whole but dull, the light from within extinguished. Raphael kneels next to the fallen man, and after a moment's hesitation, props the body in his arms. "Siegfried...?"
The knight's eyes flutter open weakly. His eyes are green, not blue, the strange light that had once shone there gone. He is quiet for a long time, his gaze flickering between Raphael and Amy, and a shudder runs through his frame. "I didn't know you were a father."
It isn't at all the kind of statement Raphael expects. "Well...I am." Amy slips her hand through his at his words.
"She's the one you were fighting for."
"Yes," Raphael says, simply. What else is there to say?
Siegfried closes his eyes. The strong line of his mouth trembles, and his hands clench and unclench as if agitated. Raphael wonders, briefly, why such a simple revelation could cause such a reaction in the younger man. But his concern is finding out what had happened after their battle, not whatever personal demons Siegfried may suffer from.
"Siegfried, what happened here?" Raphael eyes the remains of crystal armor scattered over the ground, the dull sword lying by Siegfried's side. "You must have used Soul Calibur's power..."
Siegfried opens his eyes and looks around, as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. "I did, but - actually, I'm not sure how it would work."
Raphael cannot decide if he ought to be amused or horrified by Siegfried's admission. "You unleashed a power beyond measure...and you didn't know what you were doing?"
"It isn't like that!" Siegfried says defensively, his expression darkening. "I knew what I needed to do, but Soul Calibur...it isn't just a mindless tool. I couldn't be sure how that would affect whatever I did."
Raphael frowns slightly, unsatisfied. Siegfried makes a small sound of irritation in the back of his throat. "I should start at the beginning. I came here to destroy Soul Edge, and stop the spread of its blight. But then you came, and that changed things. You destroyed Soul Edge's consciousness, but the blight - the malice - none of it was affected. I wasn't sure what that meant. At first I thought you had simply become Soul Edge's host, but that didn't seem right, either."
Siegfried pauses, worrying at his lower lip. "Then I thought about what you said, about conflict, about humanity...I don't know how true that is. But - Soul Edge was made by human hands, and I thought, maybe it was our own souls, our own darkness, that was sustaining the hatred. So..." Siegfried turns his head to look at Ostrheinsburg's frozen fields.
"I decided to purify everything," he finished. "Not just Ostrheinsburg, or the malfected, but anyone who might have darkness in their heart - anyone who could begin the tragedy again." Siegfried turns back to Raphael. "I didn't know if Soul Calibur was capable of something like that, or who would be left when it was all finished." And then, in a voice so soft Raphael has to lean close to hear it: "I didn't think I'd be here to see it."
Raphael presses a hand to his stomach, feeling the tear marking where Soul Calibur had impaled him, the cloth stiff with dried blood. "You wanted to purify the malfected," he says, frowning. "But Amy and I are still here..."
Siegfried bows his head, long honey-blond hair tumbling around his shoulders and hiding his face from view. "I felt like I owed you something. For freeing me from Soul Edge."
"That wasn't my intention," Raphael says, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. "I meant to kill you."
"I know that," Siegfried says wryly. "But that doesn't change the fact that you did help me. And - if I had been stronger then - if I had resisted Soul Edge sooner - perhaps you would have been spared the malfection. I wanted to make amends for that, at least."
"Did you think I would forgive you?" Raphael traces the scar where Soul Edge had split him open. The memories of being denied and defeated and humiliated, again and again, are burned into his mind as surely as Soul Edge's mark is burned into his flesh. Not even the sight of his former enemy - weak and cradled in his arms, pleading for absolution - can ease that bitterness. "There is too much between us to ask me for that."
Siegfried meets Raphael's gaze unflinchingly. "I know. I did not do this expecting to be forgiven. It's just - there were times when I felt like I was watching another version of myself. You were on the same path I was, once, but - you never lost sight of yourself, the way I did. Soul Edge had you in its grasp, and you weren't..." Siegfried pauses, as if he is not sure of what to say next. "You didn't give into it. I mean - you were not sinless, but at the same time...what you sought wasn't so different from what I wanted, once. I thought - if I could keep you from making the same mistakes I did, it would make up for things that had come before. Not just with you, but for sins past."
The younger man falls silent, then, lost in thought. Raphael continues to support him, those words - sins past - rolling over and over in his mind. He does not know what had led Siegfried to Soul Edge (and he thinks of Siegfried shuddering in his arms, watching he and Amy with guilt-stricken eyes) but he could guess what the man had lost.
He could not forget that Siegfried had stood against him, but he could understand, a little, what drove him to do so. Perhaps that was enough.
Raphael rises to his feet and looks to the crystalized earth beyond the tower. The sight is eerily beautiful, the smooth frozen ground dotted with bursts of sharp-edged, crystal flowers, all shimmering white in the warm sun. "Is the whole world like this?"
Siegfried bites his lip, agitated. "I - it might be. I didn't think so many people would be...found wanting."
Raphael tilts his head, looking at Siegfried in wonder. "Does it really surprise you, that so many are cruel and selfish at heart?" He looks at Amy's hand clasped around his own, remembering the first and only time someone had reached out to him in true kindness. "How childish."
"I don't know," Siegfried murmurs. "I only did what I thought was right." Tentatively, he meets Raphael's gaze. "Was this...just?" His voice is as shaky and unsure as a boy's, heavy with the need for reassurance, approval.
Siegfried had wished for a world without darkness.
Not so different, Raphael thinks, from a world where those who would challenge him lie dead at his feet.
"Yes."
Siegfried lets out a quiet sigh. "I was worried that I had not done enough. I did not want to face my father's soul without knowing that I had done all I could to make things right." He closes his eyes. "Maybe that's why I'm still here. I did not think I would be."
Amy slips her hand out of Raphael's grasp and approaches Siegfried, her expression unreadable. "You're not happy here," she says flatly, more statement than question. "You miss him, don't you? Your father."
Siegfried looks up at the girl in surprise. "Yes, I do." A faint splash of red colors his pale cheeks. "Even after all this time, it's all I can think of - if I've done his memory justice. If I've fulfilled his last wishes." He shakes his head. "A foolish thing, I know."
"I don't think it's foolish," Amy says, her eyes meeting Raphael's.
"You wouldn't, would you?" The ghost of a smile touches Siegfried's lips. "But...I suppose it doesn't matter now. I destroyed our bond a long time ago. I doubt his soul would receive me now."
Raphael reaches out, lays one hand, hesitantly, on Siegfried's shoulder. "I do not think that is true," he says, and the knight shudders at his words.
Raphael cannot forgive Siegfried for the past. But he can thank him for this gift, he suddenly realizes.
He can give Siegfried the peace he seeks.
His hands slip over Siegfried's neck and close firmly around his throat. Siegfried is relaxed and unresisting under his touch, trusting. Raphael twists his hands quickly, firmly, and the man's neck snaps with a sharp crack.
Siegfried's body sags in Raphael's grip, all dead weight. His green eyes are still open, glazed and bright in the sunny blue sky; the grief that had shadowed them is gone. Carefully, Raphael lowers the body to the shimmering crystal floor.
"Why?" Amy asks, curious but unafraid; she is too familiar with death to be alarmed by it anymore. Raphael smiles at her reassuringly.
"I sent him home."
Amy nods and reaches out to shut the empty eyes. Raphael takes her hand, and together, they descend into the new world.
(a/n: ma puce is a term of endearment that translates to 'my flea.' it is sort of an inside joke between me and...myself. this is because in the made-up canon that only exists in my head, Amy is either flea-or-lice-infested when Raphael meets her in the slums so ma puce is extra-fitting. i bet you are all thrilled to know this!
thanks to everyone who stuck with this. i did not intend to write a six-chapter fic that would take two months to complete when i first started the meme of five, but because i do not know how to be concise that is what it became. i hope you are not TOO disappointed that it ends with two unsatisfactory (well, i found them unsatisfactory) endings from SCIV smushed together to make one weird ending that has no sense of pacing, and where all the dialog is really just exposition with too many awkward punctual breaks.
but seriously: thanks. i hope you enjoyed it.)