Sitting in the brig of the Aegis was a harrowing moment of introspection.  Ren could hardly believe it, but what was worse was the knowing.  Only the night before, she’d been living her best life as Wing Commander One, but now, she was a prisoner aboard her own ship, with the heavy weight of insubordination and mutiny looming over her head.  There was nothing for it, though; she knew what had happened.  Her Captain tried to force her to kill children, and when she refused, he commandeered her armor with an override that she barely remembered existing.


    She’d heard them – the Captain and her Eidolon – speaking about the charges, and their frustrated manner while trying to understand why she’d done it.  ‘You made me kill kids,’ kept coming out of her mouth, but neither of them seemed to understand her, and so into the cell she went.


    Three days she spent in that little room, with nothing but the walls to keep her interest.  The Aegis had been turned around entirely – apparently just for her – so it made landing back in Agartha outside of schedule really unusual.  What was worse was being escorted off the ship by the First Wing himself, and handed over into the custody of the Fourth.


    She wasn’t even bound, nor made to wear prisoner fatigues.  She’d just been handed some clothing from her own room and tossed a bag of her effects, like she was being forced on leave.


    “…I don’t understand what’s happening.” She commented carefully, “Sir…?  I thought I was going to be taken through a military tribunal.”


    Rylen cast his eyes towards her briefly, but then looked to Xanarken, “I’ll let you explain.  She doesn’t react well when I speak.  Maybe you’ll have better luck.”


    The Fourth nodded, and gestured to the exit at the far end of the landing spire.


    .


    That same spire was now in ruins; the only part of Agartha that had been hit by the Eye of Kitez.


    .


    Ren followed after the Eidolon with her heart in her throat.  Xanarken didn’t speak a word for a while though, seemingly reviewing all the documents that Rylen had transferred to him.  When they finally exited the elevator and stepped out into the lower ship dock, the Fourth led her out and into an open landing-area.


    That’s when he finally said something, “Dame Ren, what you’ve done is a serious offense.”


    She stayed as quiet as death – it wasn’t what he actually said, but she couldn’t have known otherwise at the time.  The afflictive illusion was too fresh, and she heard only what she worried to hear when anyone spoke of the incident directly.


    “But, my brother has a lot of respect for your capabilities, and while they do an internal review within the Sixth, he’s entrusted your care to me and the Fourth.” He continued, looking at those nervous green eyes, “It may take some time for them to make a decision about what will happen with you, but for now, you’re grounded.  No combat, no drills, no armor to fly in…you’ll be demoted to the lowest rank the Fourth has outside the Academy.”


    “…Yessir…” She answered with a cold sense of dread.


    “I have a few Mediators who are available to take on new mentees, so I’m going to assign you to someone.” Xanarken added, “But I must make one thing absolutely and unequivocally clear to you before that Mediator arrives.”


    “Sir?”


    “For the next 30 days, you are hereby ordered – forbidden – from speaking about your origins or previous line of work.” He explained simply, “Knowing you came from the Sixth alone will probably set certain expectations about your willingness to learn how to negotiate, so don’t poison the well before you drink from it.  Worse still, the guy who’s coming has a particular problem with the Fafnir Knights, so knowing you were one of them – led them, even – will probably cause problems between you.  So…until he’s had some time to get to know you, don’t tell him anything.  Maybe, by the time these 30 days are up, he’ll have learned enough about you that finding out the truth won’t sour him to the possibility that Fafnir aren’t as bad as he thinks.”


    “…I understand, sir.”


    “Questions?”


    “…I’m not sure I’m entitled to any right now, sir.” She said timidly, “I don’t really understand why I’m being transferred to another Wing when I should be moving to a military prison.  I don’t…want to punch a gift-horse in the mouth.  …Sir.”


    Xanarken puffed a laugh, “You’ve been moved because Rylen can’t stand the idea of losing you to a mistake.  You earned your wings by putting the Captain on his ass the first time you met, and you were fresh from boot.  No one has ever gotten to try out for the Fafnir that early in their career with the Council before…no one except the Rydells themselves, anyway.  Normally there’s a few years of putzing around as a lower rank first, then you apply internally.  Someone saw something in you though…  Maybe they were sincere, or maybe they thought this would be a funny way of putting you down, but you proved yourself with such reckless abandon that Captain Rydell immediately wanted you.  You’d think he would’ve been embarrassed, but…apparently it really impressed him.”


    Ren scoffed quietly, “He only looked down on me as this lightweight waif of a woman and let his guard down.  …Sir.”


    “Either way,” Xanarken laughed, “You’ve continued to rise even when put to the real tests.  You became Wing Commander in record time.  I think your spar-session was legitimate.  Everyone speaks extremely highly of you.  I can think of no better representative of the Fafnir Knights to prove to my doubting son that you’re better than he thinks.”


    That made Ren’s cheek twitch, “…Sir?” She managed, and felt all the blood drain from her face, “…I have so many questions suddenly, I don’t even know where to start…”


    “Go ahead.  Pick any.”


    “…You’re assigning The Negotiator…THE Gabriel Lugios as my mentor?  And I’m somehow supposed to prove that the Fafnir aren’t so bad when I got kicked out for rebelling against them…?” She asked in disbelief, feeling her knees tremble for the nerves.


    “You weren’t kicked out.  You were put on an extended leave of absence.  And in a month, when he’s allowed to read your file, he’ll be able to see the circumstances of it himself.  By then, hopefully you’ve endeared yourself to him enough that he’s willing to look past it.  Do that, and your return to the Fafnir is half-secured.”


    “…Half-secured, sir?”


    “Well, my brother has to conclude the review and agree to take you back, too.”


    “Yessir…”


    “Honestly, this is the perfect storm.” Xanarken noted, and turned to cross his arms, eyes looking around the vaulted garage for the image of the little red skiff that was supposed to be arriving, “I need Gabriel to let go of his grudge against the Fafnir, and I’ve heard wonderful things about your ability to connect with your team-mates.  There isn’t a soul aboard the Aegis that had a negative thing to say about you…except maybe Sir Jense, who was apparently still upset that you one-shot him during a demonstration last year.”


    Ren stammered, “He put that into an actual peer-review?”


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    The Fourth snorted, “Yes.  Anyway, if anyone can help with this situation, it’s you.  And if not, I know we gave it our best shot, and Gabe will just be a hopeless cause with a chip on his shoulder.  …And, there he is.  Remember; one month.  Not a peep.”


    She nodded emphatically, and turned to spot Maeve come into view.  The hissing-hum of the ship’s hovering thrusters echoed through the concrete corridors, and when it finally landed, Ren could feel a thousand ravenous butterflies dart through her stomach.  She leaned and took a step back, “Sir…can I admit something really quick before he gets out?”


    “What’s wrong?”


    “…I’ve had a tiny bit of a celebrity-crush on that guy since I was a pre-teen.  He’s the whole reason I wanted to be a Fafnir.  I wanted to be one of the good ones, who didn’t kill kids and their families.  I…don’t know if I can do this.”


    “Wouldn’t this be the perfect time to make your case, then?”


    “But I did kill kids!” She countered, and eeped as the skiff’s side-door broke its flight-seal, “Oh my god.”


    Xanarken just chuckled and pet her shoulder, “Your crimes are not what you think they are, Dame Ren.  You’ll see.”


    Ren clenched her hands around the strap of her ruck-sack, and watched as that familiar blonde head popped out of the vessel.  She could feel her face turning as red as the tells in his hair, and couldn’t force herself to blink as he approached.


    “…What’s going on?” Gabriel asked tepidly, eyes on the petite woman standing next to the Fourth, looking as mortified as a teenager having their birthday celebrated rather publicly at a restaurant.  Those infamous bicolored eyes looked to Xanarken, “You’ve never brought a client to me before.”


    “Not a client.  She’s your new partner.” The Fourth beamed.


    “What.” Gabriel stammered flatly.


    Ren just waved meekly.


    “You know; a mentee.  Those things you hate.”


    Ren could’ve dropped from the embarrassment, but somehow held her ground.


    Gabriel looked between them a few times, but then reached his hands out and spun the Eidolon around to shove him forward.  Once out of ear-shot, it looked like he was making his case against the situation, but Ren couldn’t hear it.  Xanarken got the final word though, and Gabriel slouched, then walked past, and gestured for the woman to follow without even looking at her, “Fine.  Looks like we’re stuck.”


    Xanarken approached as well, but before Ren could even take a step, the Eidolon bent into her line of sight, “Don’t let him bully you.  He’s great with politicians and schmoozers, but he doesn’t have friends.  Gets exhausted by the bullshit after a while and might be slightly jaded.  Be genuine and he’ll eventually realize you’re not trying to pull one over on him.”


    “…Y-yessir…” She answered worriedly, and took-off to catch up with the ornery Negotiator.  She paused outside the ship though and turned back, “…What if he recognizes my name?  Not that he even asked what it was…”


    “He won’t know it; that I can guarantee.”


    Ren nodded and swallowed a hard lump in her throat, but finally hopped up into the ship…only to scold herself for it, since a normal person would’ve needed to pull themselves in with the hand-holds.  She made a mental note not to flaunt her augments after that, and looked around the interior.  There was an oval-shaped track in the floor where the ship’s three seats sat, and only the pilot’s chair was set to the front.  It was possible for two seats to be up at the controls, but Gabriel had set it so the rear seats were behind him, so he couldn’t even see Ren when she went to find a spot.


    Maeve’s side-door closed, and Gabriel made a few curt comments, “Not many people make it through the program when they’re stuck with me, so I’ll make some things clear upfront so you don’t have to bother with small-talk that I don’t want to engage in anyway.  First, don’t call me Sir; my name is Gabriel, use it.  Second, no, I can’t do anything about the red coloration in my hair or eye; it’s not nanotech and I can’t explain it.  Third, don’t hassle me about the way I talk to the Eidolon.  Lastly, no, I don’t care if you’re nervous about the fact that I’m afflicted.  You’ll never see it active anyway so you can pretend it doesn’t exist.”


    Ren could hardly believe how abrasive he was, and clutched her bag to her chest as she sat down, “…Oh.  Okay.  So, the game is you’re going to try to make want to leave, is it?”


    “Try?  No.  It’s just inevitable.”


    .


    The eeriness with which Ren spoke those words set Gabriel’s teeth on edge, but something told him he had to go back anyway.  Maeve kicked-up a wave of water as he veered the whole thing around and started heading back towards the shoreline under the ruined palace.


    It took four months and a mission gone horribly wrong for Gabriel to finally accept a proper introduction to and by the woman he’d largely been leaving to her own devices, and only a few weeks after for him to realize what he’d been ignoring.  Finding out she was a Fafnir – and not just any Fafnir, but a unit-commander – caused a bit of a foundational upheaval, but he found himself completely smitten by her anyway.


    Having his chance with her, too…it was like the tectonics of his mind tilted back the other way.  The warmth, the affection, the – he didn’t want to call it passion but he couldn’t think of anything better, so… - passion, and everything in between.  That night began with a depth of attachment he had never known he could form with another person…and was about to end with a pain he didn’t know was possible to experience.


    It wasn’t hard to spot the dread sight of the Sovereign Shadow once Gabriel had gotten back near the beach, but the fact that it was just hovering there was concerning.  Gabriel kept quite a distance while he scouted it out, certain to keep the faint light of the ship’s rear thrusters towards the open water so Maeve wouldn’t be so easily seen.  However, when he spotted the downed Fafnir – and, worse still, the amount of blood that had been smeared all over the rock-wall she’d once been pinned against – time stood still.


    “…Ren…?”


    There was no answer that time; he opened every channel in an effort to find her somewhere.


    “Ren?  Ren, say something!” He pleaded, feeling the weight in his gut starting to grow.


    Each of the Fafnir – including Furion back on the Buckler – heard that particular tone in the Fourth’s voice, and it set them all on edge.  Rylen was still busy with the Tuonela, and hadn’t heard it.


    “I don’t like the sound of that.” Ravan commented, “Captain, permission to investigate?  We can’t get through this shield anyway.”


    “Yes, go.  Corbin, you too.”


    “Yessir.”


    The longer those quiet seconds went on, the more Gabriel could feel the futility sinking in.  He didn’t really notice how he leaned into the controls, nor the way his eyes started to spark with a particular golden light.  Maeve was back up to its top speed within a few seconds, and Regulus finally caught sight of the approach.


    “…Back again?  Saves me the trouble of chasing after you.” He commented quietly.  The big arms of the mech, even without a few of its fingers, turned and readied their green beams…but Maeve abruptly vanished, “…Where did…?”


    He had enough time to blink when the entire ship reappeared – flying at him at nearly 600mph – only a dozen feet away.  It hit him with such incredible force that it exploded around him as it pushed the Shadow back, smashing it into a section of collapsed exterior rooms, and launched it – and all the debris that it and Maeve had blown into – another hundred feet back.  The ravaged blue mech landed with a hollow metallic crunch – all but the front small right arm had been viciously ripped off – and watching it from the beach…was Gabriel, eyes flashing with furious golden light.


    There was no purple aura now, it was just pure effect, and Gabriel reached out with one open hand, clasping around the warmachine angrily.  He wrenched his arm back, and the mech was dragged forward with surreal force, rubble and debris breaking in its path until it was flung halfway into the oncoming surf.  Both hands came up then, and tense fingers gripped hard together…slowly crushing the Sovereign Shadow like a small, hollow can.  There was no room for screaming or pleading…blood spurted out of the gaps as the mech’s frame imploded, then gushed out like a broken hospital bag.  The softly rolling tide brought red to the pebbled shore, but Gabriel turned away from the sight, and let the mech drop into the shallow water like a rock.


    Walking over to Ren’s battered body was a nightmare.  The sounds of the deeply-burning fires within the ruin were the only thing Gabriel could hear, and everything was a sickly shade of monochrome, splashed with crimson.  Ren’s armor was dented in ways that made his stomach churn – the abdominal wall was pushed in too far, the chest-plate was broken, both arms were twisted like bread, with bone and flesh sticking out, and the helmet was smashed.  Blood pooled under her, still dripping down where the wing-arms kept her up at a slight angle.  Gabriel’s steps slowed as he neared, and he released the miasma from his eyes as he collapsed to his knees.


    “…R-Ren…?” He begged quietly.  Shaky hands reached forward, hesitating for a moment before finally unlatching the shattered helmet from around her head.  Black hair, sticky with blood, fell out to hang slightly before finally dropping to the wet stone beneath her.  Her head drooped down, and he saw the horrifying image of what Regulus had left of her face.  Skin was clawed by the shattered glass, eyelids sagged where the orbits had been ruptured, and red trickled down her cheeks, past her ears.  The neck of her flight-suit was saturated.  She was barely recognizable now, and though Gabriel pressed his fingers against the side of her throat, there wasn’t a single spot where could feel even the most febrile of pulses.


    She was gone.


    The cry that came out of him then cut through the whole team like a jagged, rusty knife, and he collapsed forward against her.  He hugged his arms around her head regardless of the blood, and pulled her close, cheek pressed to her skin as he begged her to speak.


    There was no answer though, and on that beach, none would ever come.