[Granblue Fantasy] The Glory 1/??

[duckiesandlemons]

Title:  The Glory
Rating:  G (M overall)
Fandom:  Granblue Fantasy
Characters:  Gran, Vyrn, Katalina Alize, Percival
Summary:  The Erste Empire invades the kingdom of Zinkenstill, and Gran flees in hopes of seeking aid from the Enforcers.  Instead, he ends up crash landing in Wales and meeting the younger brother of Wales' lord, Percival.  AKA that one AU loosely based off of Fire Emblem:  The Sacred Stones.
Warning(s):  None

Gran can’t remember much of the escape from the castle to the port, where Katalina tries to quickly shuffle them into a small sky skimmer so that they can make their way towards Wales.  The only things he can remember is the way Vyrn clings to him, afraid, and how the weight of his sword is suddenly too heavy. His mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, his heart is pounding, and the names of his father and Djeeta flip flop around.

His father is dead.

Djeeta is alive.

His father is dead

Djeeta is next.

“Don’t worry, Djeeta is with a good group of people,” Katalina tells him as she fastens him into the sky skimmer, ignoring her own wounds.  “Rackam and Eugen won’t let her fall so easily.”

But what if they do, Gran wants to ask, what if they face someone like Gandharva who so easily weakened Katalina despite her being one of the best swordsman in the Zinkenstill air space?  The worry clogs at Gran’s throat, and he only snaps out of it when Vyrn desperately presses his face against Gran’s neck to try and muffle his sobs.

“O-old man...everyone...they’re--”

“They gave us a chance to live,” Katalina says as she slips into the pilot seat.  “We won’t waste it.”

Gran trembles, nods, “T-then to Port Breeze, and then Amalthea like father said to try and get aid from the Enforcers or an escort to Nalhegrande.”

Empress Pholia is their friend, Empress Pholia could--

“There!  In that Sky Skimmer!  Prince Gran and the traitor knight Katalina!”

“Geeze, don’t they know I left the Erste Empire ages ago,” Katalina mumbles as she starts the sky skimmer up.

“You came stumbling upon the Old Man’s doorstep bloodied and stayed ever since, right?” Vyrn asks.  It’s a horrible attempt to lighten up the situation, but Katalina laughs regardless.

“Something like that--Hang on!”

The Sky Skimmer judders, immediately shooting off.  The yells become muffled, distant, the rumbling of the skimmer’s engines filling Gran’s ears.  He tries to breathe, tries to calm down, but it’s one thing after another. They’re airborne for a while, desperation seeming to fuel Katalina, but then there’s a judder, she and Vyrn yell about something, and then Gran feels weightlessness.

Falling, he’s falling--

Sorry, Djeeta, I wanted to go and find you, I wanted to apologize for father, I--

“Lord Percival!  We’ve found the remains of a sky skimmer!”

“Check it, see if there are any survivors!”

“Sir, we’ve found a woman and young man, as well as their pet--they’re still alive!”

“Tend to them immediately--back to the castle!”

Gran dreams of Djeeta and of Orchid, of Apollo and of the warm deserts of Mephorash.  Agastia is so cramped, Orchid had complained, right, Apollo?

But isn’t that what makes Agastia fun, he remembers Djeeta asking.  Zinkenstill is nothing like that, it’s so quiet and being there is so much fun.  Gran had laughed, for Apollo had chided them both (gently, in her own Apollo way) that both had their strong and weak points.  Apollo preferred Mephorash herself, far, far away from things that she never told them about. All that matters to Apollo is them, is Orchid, and to Gran all that mattered was Djeeta and Orchid and the days spread out before them until they all blossomed into the fine royals they were meant to be.

Yet Erste attacked, its imperial soldiers flooding the castle and Apollo leading the charge.  Gran couldn’t believe it, staring at her black, black armor as she raised her sword against them.

He couldn’t understand.

Apollo, why?  What about Orchid?

“Prince Gran!  Prince Gran, wake up!”

“H-hey, Gran!”

Gran groans, trying to open his eyes only to shut them when harsh light assaulted him.  A gentle hand shakes him, forcing him to open them once more. Katalina’s worried face stares back, bandages on her head and her arm in a sling.  Vyrn himself has a simple strip of gauze wound around one wing, and he’s hanging off of Katalina’s shoulder.

“W-where?” Gran asks, but his voice comes out raspy and his tongue feels as dry as Mephorash itself.

“...we don’t know,” Katalina admits.  “From what I’ve gathered we ended up in a place known as Wales, and the Lord’s younger brother is the one who had found us.”

Wales...Wales...Gran remembers entertaining guests from Feendrache, his sister at one point having a lively dance with the captain of their esteemed guard, but not Wales.

“Forgive me, Prince Gran, but for them to believe me I had to show them your bracelet--Lord Aglovale had requested an audience when you awoke and were able to move.”

The tone of Katalina’s voice shows that this Lord Aglovale did not want to wait too long, despite giving the option for Gran to rest.  It would be best to get everything out of the way now, Gran thinks. With his dreams being of days long past, ruined by the war his sister still continues to fight despite the fall of Zinkenstill, then Gran will have to do his best here, as well.

“I will see him,” he says, forcing himself up.  It hurts, but Gran is determined. He has faced tougher, has been beaten down by his sister and fought the fiercest of monsters that dared face their home.  Something like this is nothing.

He cannot continue grieving.

He will go and help his sister.  If he can’t get help from the Enforcers, then he will start here.

“Gran…” Vyrn wiggles off of Katalina’s shoulder, trying to pitifully flap his wings so that he can follow.  Gran dutifully scoops the small dragon up in his arms, letting him rest on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay,” Gran says.  “I’ll talk with Lord Aglovale, and then we’ll set out--”

“You will not--not with those wounds,” the voice startles all of them.  A tall man, red hair slicked back and in brilliant white, steps into the room.  He has a tray in one hand, the other resting lazily at his side.

“But I must--”

“A ruler is no good to his people if he works himself to death due to negligence of his own health,” the tray is placed on the bedside table, a hand pushing Gran back down to rest.  Vyrn scrambles to rest on Gran’s chest, staring curiously up at this man.

“Where you the one who found us?” the dragon asks.

“I was,” the reply is stiff, formal.  “The Lady Katalina says that you are Prince Gran, from Zinkenstill...my apologies about your father.”

Gran sucks in a sharp breath.  So it’s true...Zinkenstill has fallen to Erste.  Then he had to hurry to Djeeta’s side, wherever she may be fighting.  Whether the forests of Lumacie or the coasts of Auguste or beyond, he needed to--

“What’s your name?” Vyrn asks.

“Yes, we are most gracious for your help,” Katalina adds.  

“...Percival,” the answer is succinct.  “Lord Aglovale’s younger brother.”

“Thank you, Sir Percival,” and Gran is grateful.  So, so very grateful. “When I can, I’ll make it up to you--your kindness is--”

“Don’t waste your breath on such words--focus on getting better,” Percival’s stare pierces straight through Gran.  “Your people need you.”

With those words, Percival leaves.  Their meeting had been as short as his introductions, and his words blunt but precise.  The people of Zinkenstill are holding out hope for the royal twins to return and reclaim the throne from Erste, and Gran can’t do that if he is dead.

“Djeeta is strong,” Katalina reminds him.  “She will be fine--you really should rest, your Highness.”

“Yup!  And then we can go meet Sir Burns-a-lot’s brother!”

The nickname Vyrn gives Percival causes a smile to crack on Gran’s face, “Yes, and then maybe we can get help to go and help Djeeta.”

The words feel like an empty promise, but the light that appears in Vyrn’s eyes is enough to convince Gran that they can do it.  He talks with Katalina a bit more, their voices soft as Vyrn--exhausted, just as scared as them--falls into an uneasy sleep curled up in Gran’s lap.

They will talk with Lord Aglovale, they will try and get aid from Wales to go and find Djeeta, and from there they’ll start their bloody campaign against the Erste Empire.