A/N: Well, here ya go. Another COMPLETELY random idea of mine…I’m actually kinda proud of this one. Probably because I just finished it (haha!). Anyways…well, hope you like it.

Zarathustra

Solace.

Eliwood breathed a small sigh of relief as he stepped into the chapel. He had never been a particularly pious man, but a childhood of his mother and father dragging him to services every week had helped him come to view the vast chapel as home. It was, after all, part of Castle Pherae. Which all was his, now that his father was dead.

Eliwood bit his lip against the grief that rose inside him like bile. He pushed the feeling away, knowing that now was not the time to mourn. He could cry for his father after he had been avenged, after Nergal had been destroyed…but not now.

He wasn’t sure why he had come to the chapel. Though he kept his faith and prayed when he remembered and hoped to Saint Elimine that that was enough to bring him to Paradise, he wouldn’t call himself devout. Perhaps it was because the chapel was always so quiet. Even during a service everyone had been gripped by the quiet, the bishop’s soft words being the only ones echoing throughout the cavernous room. And when there was no service…when there was no one in the chapel at all…the quiet was replaced by a silence, severe and warm and formidable. Unbreakable.

Eliwood needed such a silence. It had only been a couple of months since he had left home, since he had set out to find his father…but it felt more like years. Years of Hector and Lyndis constantly arguing over his head, years of Lowen making him food that he was too preoccupied to eat, years of worrying about the fate of his tiny army—Eliwood’s Elite, he recalled fondly, was the name they had given themselves—and…oh, what will become of us all?

He had so much to worry about…so much stress and pressure…and he was only seventeen! He kept his constant anxiety hidden behind an optimistic smile and a charismatic speech given every so often…but it was always there, lurking within the darker corners of his mind. It had been chasing him, pairing with his sorrow for his father, his concern for his friends…he needed to rest. He needed to escape. He needed solace…just for one night.

He shouldn’t even have stayed the night, he realized with a tinge of regret. Every hour spent idle was an hour Nergal could use to further his horrid schemes. And yet…his mother had positively begged him to stay, just for one night…and Eliwood couldn’t refuse her. She had just lost her husband. She needed him.

And though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit it or not, he had just lost his father. He needed her.

So one night it was, back within his home and castle. But however he tried to escape his grim fate of hunting down Nergal, even for a little while, there were still so many reminders…Erk and Lyn and Rebecca traipsing through the halls, Kent dragging Sain off to joust in the practice arena (since obviously one night spent in a safe place did not give them leave to stop practicing), and Nils finding himself a room to stay in and proceeding to play a soft, sad melody upon his flute. It filled Eliwood with such bitterness, to hear it…Nils had undergone so much pain, for such a young child. How was that right? How did he deserve it?

Perhaps that was another reason Eliwood wanted to escape to the chapel, of all places. Not only was it peaceful and still…but he wanted to ask the saints why. Why was his father taken from him? Why did Nergal harm so many people? Why did fate turn this way—why had it dragged him and his friends along, when they were so powerless to stop it? He didn’t know. It was driving him mad.

He sighed once more and moved farther into the large, vaulted room. His footsteps echoed softly as he walked down the stone aisle. It led to a raised dais, upon which was a large marble altar draped in royal blue cloth. Above him, the ceiling he knew to be gilded was hidden with shadows, thick and dusty like cobwebs. On either side of him were rows upon rows of wooden pews, and beyond them were windows made of stained glass, so big that they took up more space than the actual walls.

Eliwood had always loved the windows, and remembered staring at them as a child rather than listening to the bishop talk. Each one told a story, a grand legend mapped out in sheets of glistening glass. Here was the birth of Saint Elimine, and here were the gods creating the world, and here was an angel appearing to a man in a dream. With its last rays, the dying sun flung the colors of the windows inside, making it appear as if they were exploding, and cast bright pools of light upon the floor. White and green and blue, like a fiery rainbow of melted gems staining the normal grey floors into something extraordinary.

Eliwood turned his head to the other side of the chapel, to see his favorite window—the one depicting the First Battle between the angels of the good gods and the minions of the bad ones, the Battle that sparked a war between good and evil that would last until the end of time. Usually as the sun rose or set, it sent a waterfall of red into the room, to splash against the pews like blood, to shimmer on the floor like a pile of rubies. Eliwood smiled to see it—he liked red.

But that was when he noticed something distinctly pale and blue amidst all the reflections of his favorite window. As he strained to see, he realized that it was a woman, standing in the mural’s glow. She wore a blue dress that puddled on the floor like the light from the stained glass, and had long hair that cascaded down her back. Her nose almost touched the window as she stared at a part of it, fingertips pressed against the structure, biting her lip in agitation.

Eliwood cut between two pews and edged his way towards her. “Ninian?” he asked softly.

The girl turned quickly, stiffening when she caught sight of him. “Ah, L-lord Eliwood! F-forgive me…I was just passing by when I saw this window, a-and thought to enter to take a better look…”

“Oh, don’t apologize,” Eliwood reassured her. “Everyone is allowed in this chapel, it’s a place of…why, Ninian! Are you alright?”

He had suddenly realized that her crimson eyes were shining with tears. She cast her gaze down to the floor, as if struggling to keep them at bay, but Eliwood was quick to notice the first that escaped—glinting like a drop of molten crystal as it plummeted to the floor.

“I am fine, Lord Eliwood,” Ninian whispered gently. “You need not worry about me.”

“Well of course I need to,” he argued back, his voice soft with concern. “What is the matter, Ninian?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and gnawed her lower lip as she turned back to the window. Eliwood wished she would not bite her lip so--watching her made him want to smooth her mouth back out…to touch it with a finger, with his own mouth…

He abruptly shook his head to clear such thoughts—which he didn’t understand in the slightest—and followed Ninian’s gaze, momentarily overcome by the blaze of red before his eyes adjusted to see the scene set into the glass window. They were right in the middle of the wide, vast epic—the first angel and the first demon were just about to strike each other, the first blow of the first battle of a never-ending war.

The angel held aloft a flaming sword, wings as feathered and snowy-white as those of a Pegasus unfurled and streaming behind it, pale blue eyes aglow with a righteous rage. It was hovering above the demon, which crouched below it, ready to strike. The demon’s skin was bright red, as flushed and angry as a burn. Its bony hands ended in long, formidable talons; its crimson lips pulled back in a snarl that revealed deadly, gleaming fangs; and bursting from its back was a pair of leathery, reptilian wings. Worst of all were its eyes—as red as its skin, glittering like rubies, cold and enraged and so completely inhuman that it sent a chill up Eliwood’s spine. The demon was truly a disgusting sight, compared to the fiery white glory of the attacking angel.

“Is it true…” Ninian whispered after a moment, “that demons really look like that?” Her voice, the softest sound imaginable, still managed to echo throughout the chapel.

Eliwood brushed a strand of his bright hair behind his ear as he considered her words. He knew he had to choose his reply carefully, but didn’t understand why the picture of the demon had made her so upset. “Well…that is the depiction I have always known. However, I have never seen a demon in person.” He smiled kindly at her as she glanced up at him. “In fact, if the Holy Book is to be believed, no one has seen a demon for thousands of years. I doubt that even the maker of this window knew what demons really look like.”

“Is this only one man’s depiction?” Ninian asked quietly, tracing her finger along the cheek of the livid demon. “Is this only his idea of what evil looks like?”

Eliwood frowned and glanced at the girl uneasily. “N-no, actually…that is how I’ve seen every demon portrayed. They all look like that, no matter where you go. Fangs and claws and wings, just like…” The lord trailed off to find that Ninian was trembling.

“Just like dragons,” she finished for him, her voice as quivery as her limbs. “Just like dragons.”

“Well, yes,” Eliwood answered, though he was now completely baffled as to how upset she looked. “Oh, Ninian…are you sure you’re alright?”

“Your demons are dragons,” she whispered. She clasped her hands tightly before her—Eliwood noted that her knuckles were white.

“A-actually,” he ventured, hoping to find some way to ease her mind (women are so confusing!), “If you look at artwork from a couple of decades before The Scouring, demons look very different than this one here.”

Ninian looked up at him, her jewel-like eyes still teary. However, a faint gleam of hope shone within those oddly-colored depths, and Eliwood seized it with joy.

“Yes, really!” he continued. “Demons didn’t actually take on such reptilian depictions until the war began.”

“That is…very interesting,” Ninian breathed, something—relief?—sparkling in the exhalation.

“Yes, I think so too,” Eliwood agreed pleasantly. “It is fascinating how mankind’s ideas about things change based on events in history.”

Something seemed to come over Ninian suddenly, and she slipped back into her usual melancholy state. Eliwood felt his heart twist painfully within his chest: for a moment she had been at peace…and when her eyes looked so mournful, he would have given anything to give her that peace again.

“It’s always true,” she muttered, almost to herself. “No matter what you are or where you are from…your enemies shall always take the form of what you hate the most. They shall always be…ugly…”

Eliwood watched as Ninian stared at the demon, matching its gaze—crimson eye against crimson eye. He felt horror surge through his veins as she closed those strange orbs of hers. Oh, Ninian…your eyes are the same color…the very representation of an evil gaze. Is that what you think? You might look different, but… you know that you aren’t…you aren’t bad at all! In any way! Do you honestly feel that way? That something that makes you unique also likens you to the enemy we are all fighting?

“Ninian,” Eliwood murmured soothingly, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to open those strange, crystalline eyes once more. “Surely you know…that there is nothing ugly about you. Nothing.”

“Oh, Lord Eliwood…” Ninian blinked once, causing tears to spill themselves upon her cheeks and glisten like dew upon her lashes. “Th-thank you, but…y-you don’t understand…”

“All I understand is that you worry needlessly,” Eliwood retorted firmly, Ninian’s face still in his gentle hold. “I know that you and Nils come from a land far away, that much is obvious. I am sure that your peoples have different customs, different depictions of otherworldly things than my people do. But you shouldn’t ever assume that you are…undesirable here, in this land, because…you aren’t.” His gaze bored into hers, perhaps more intensely than he meant it to, because she lowered her eyes and blushed. Eliwood kept going, still desperate to ease her mind.

“Listen, Ninian…you look different, yes. But that doesn’t mean that you aren’t beautiful. And it certainly doesn’t mean that you are evil!” Eliwood chuckled slightly, brushing her tears away from her face with his thumb. “Honestly, wherever would you get such an idea?”

Ninian sighed in reply and just looked over at the window again. “…N-Nergal…h-he said that Nils and I…were b-beasts…and so, when I saw the p-picture, I th-thought…”

“What?” Eliwood demanded, shaken with disgust. “He would treat you so…just because of how you look?”

Ninian seemed to have a hard time catching her breath. She tore herself from his hold and looked away, chest heaving as she fought back sobs. “B-but m-my lord, Nils and I are so very different…more so than you could ever imagine…and I hate to lie to you, but…”

“Lie?” Eliwood asked softly. He was itching to touch her again, to hold her hand, but restrained himself lest he make her uncomfortable. “Ninian, just because you do not want to talk about your past does not make you deceitful.”

“That’s not what those eyes are telling me,” Ninian moaned, fully crying now, as she reached out a trembling finger to touch the blazing gaze of the demon in the window.

“Ninian,” whispered Eliwood, as soothingly as he could. He took her hands—cold as ice—within his own. He hadn’t wanted to be forward, but it hurt so badly to see her cry…he was desperate to make the tears cease. “Ninian, please…you’re not being reasonable, don’t you see? I think you’re just being oversensitive…perhaps because you’re overtired. I certainly know the same has happened to me. We are all exhausted.”

“M-my lord, I need to tell you—“

Eliwood shushed her with a finger over her lips. “Do not worry, Ninian. Just relax. Why don’t you go up to your room and rest? I’m sure that you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“But I—“

“I’ll still be here tomorrow if you still want to tell me,” Eliwood said, his diplomatic voice as kind as it was firm. “Right now I think it is important that you get some sleep. I promise…that we shall win this war. And from then on, you shall have peace always.”

I promise you. For you, for me, for this entire army…we shall win…we shall have peace.

“Thank you, milord,” Ninian whispered weakly. Eliwood whispered back a goodnight and—before he could talk himself out of it—gently kissed her brow. She looked up at him suddenly, ruby eyes still shining--but not with sorrow. A tiny smile slowly bloomed upon her lips…and then she was gone, scurrying out of the chapel and out of sight.

Eliwood sighed once she was gone, suddenly quite warm inside. He smiled a bit himself as he gazed up at the giant stained-glass mural before him and wondered if the angel had ever felt so afraid, so full of doubt, or had ever questioned fate.

Perhaps it is not my place to wonder about this destiny, he thought after a moment. I do not know why this task has fallen upon my shoulders, and those of my friends…and I am sure that I never will. But that is not important. What is important is how I react to these challenges. I can handle this. I am tired, yes. I am worried, yes. But as long as I have a just cause to fight for…his eyes strayed to the doorway Ninian had exited through before he turned back to the angel, his smile widening…I am sure that I can win. Exactly as you shall.

Good always triumphs over evil. Eliwood reached up slowly, timidly brushed his fingers over the furious eye of the angel—as blue as his own—and walked out of the chapel to follow his own advice and get some sleep.

He did not spare the demon a second glance.

ANYWAY…I’m not sure how I got the idea for this fic. Probably some history channel show about art history and religion and whatnot. And of course I got all irony-happy, what with the dragon-y characteristics of (even modern-day) demons and the eye colors of everyone in this story and what not. Hahaha, I love Eliwood…he means well, but he’s so very naïve. This story is happy and optimistic enough, but underneath it all is the fact that he never did notice…ah, well. I’m sure you can draw your own conclusions from it :-P.

So! Reviews would be EXTREMELY appreciated, especially since I now consider this one of my more thought-provoking works (at least, I hope so!)…thank you so much for reading!