What do I do?
“Watch ‘im in me place,†Daegsatz’s had asked her.
Roen curled her knees tightly to herself, laying her head against them. She was perched upon a large white boulder that sat on the sandy beach of the Mist, the waves washing up quietly against the base of the pale rock. Despite the cool breeze of the early dawn, melancholy made each intake of breath more difficult; even the misty air itself seemed to press down upon her with a crushing weight. She wanted to curl up into a ball and forget the rest of the world.
But she could not. She made a promise--a promise to herself, a promise to Daegsatz…and even a promise to Nero.
"You and I will become a sword and shield. I will slay those who encroach upon us. You shall defend justice and the innocent. An apt analogy, no?"
How had those words come to sound like a distant dream? Did Nero really say them to her? Or did he just offer her what she wanted to hear?
Roen refused to believe the latter, or at least she was trying her best not to. But there was a part of her that wanted to scream bitterly at herself for believing in the man. You are naive. Ridiculous. Foolish! That angry voice inside her did not want to relent.
But these were not her words. They were his. And it was his voice she heard.
“This was always my plan,†his voice echoed in her head, like a hollow metallic ringing of a hammer striking an anvil.
Roen had come to the Second Forte to console him, although partly it was for herself as well. Daegsatz had become a friend and confidant in the fortnight she had come to know him. Even though she knew Nero’s loss was so much greater than her own, she had hoped that perhaps they could find some solace in each other.
Nero’s reaction had been severe when she had delivered the news that first day. He bid her leave him, and so she abided by his wishes and had left him alone, grief stricken. But when she returned, determined to lend some comfort his way, he greeted her with this grim news--the latest development in his grand plan. Her sympathy drained away as she could do nothing but stand there stunned. Her plea for compassion in remembrance of Daegsatz, it touched him not at all; Nero seemed intent on carrying out his plan. He barely met her gaze, and when he did, it was with the coldness of an icy spear, piercing her clear through.
"Daegsatz died believing in your justice. I will not allow that to happen to others. The system is corrupt beyond salvation; to use it is to invite our own destruction."
His words…they made her doubt herself. Nero questioned her usefulness, her lack of plan, and her lack of results. He cared naught about her justice, accusing that Daegsatz died believing in its fallacy. And a part of her…
She could not argue. The justice system, the due process that she had so fervently petitioned for…it failed her. Nero had offered to put his plan on hold, to allow her justice a chance to work, but now with his First Mate’s wrongful execution, he was not willing to wait any longer. He had put it into effect with deadly precision and haste.
Families killed. Would she do nothing? Was this the only way? Was the path of righteous and just truly ineffective?
"You want to help me change Ul'dah your way," he had snapped at her. "That's all I was to you, wasn't it? You didn't know how to change it. You had no plan. You still don't. You don't know how to make the nobles bend to your will. You don't know how to weaken the Monetarists enough for the Sultana to take power. You don't know anything that is of use."
His words, they cut her like sharp knives. Nero was no longer the man she had raced with, grinning into the wind on the backs of chocobos through the Noscean hills. He was not the man she finally took the initiative to kiss herself, nor the man who held her hand and returned that kiss, many times over. Gone was the twinkle in his eyes, and the warmth of his smile. The fire that now burned was ice; that gaze held no heat, only cold, deadly ambition.
Roen had walked out. She knew there were no answers she could give him that would soothe his pain. She failed to give him any comfort. He hungered for revenge, and saw her only as an obstacle in his way.
"Ye be takin' care o' Nero's fool arse, aye?" the Roegadyn’s voice rumbled in her memory. "I guarantee 'e be needin' yer compassion far more than me." It made her tremble with sorrow.
Nero was lost in his grief and he had thrown himself into his work--his plan. Anything to shove aside the sorrow that ate at his heart--what compassion that was left in him. Roen knew the signs all too well. She had seen it before. Before the Calamity.
Was she letting it happen all over again? She had ran away from her father, desperate to look worthy in his eyes. She had joined the Battle at Carteneau, believing that she could do something that he would take notice, to bring him out of his pit of despair. She had been wrong then. Her father had only descended further into his obsessions, one that resulted in the deaths of countless men, women, and children.
And now Nero was walking the same path. Despite his assurance that he had looked for a way that involved to the least amount of death as possible, he was still implementing plans that would wipe out families, entire bloodlines.
And he was no longer waiting or hesitating. He was burning away his grief with the cold flames of vengeance.
"Because you do have compassion. Despite what you have known. The hardships and the darkness that you have seen. It still is in there. Somewhere." Those were her own words given to Nero as they both looked over oceanic horizon in Limsa Lominsa just a few suns before Daegsatz’s death. "I find that...remarkable." A part of her wanted to still believe it was not lost.
The paladin released her hold on her legs, straightening. She rose and dusted herself off, her eyes going to the horizon that began to glow gold with the slow arrival of morning. She could not let Nero drown in his grief with the blood of his enemies.
“I would not give up on him for anything.†Nero’s own voice echoed in her head, just above the sound of the waves. “I don't think I would forgive myself for giving up on him." He had spoken of his own father, then. It rang so true to her now.
I would not forgive myself either, Roen said silently to herself as she slid off the rock, her booted soles sinking into the soft wet sand. I still have not. She squinted at the vast sea that rippled with the light of dawn, as the sun was just beginning to crest the horizon.
I will not make the same mistake again.
She would not see Nero lose himself in his violent plans. She could not.
I will save him.
“Watch ‘im in me place,†Daegsatz’s had asked her.
Roen curled her knees tightly to herself, laying her head against them. She was perched upon a large white boulder that sat on the sandy beach of the Mist, the waves washing up quietly against the base of the pale rock. Despite the cool breeze of the early dawn, melancholy made each intake of breath more difficult; even the misty air itself seemed to press down upon her with a crushing weight. She wanted to curl up into a ball and forget the rest of the world.
But she could not. She made a promise--a promise to herself, a promise to Daegsatz…and even a promise to Nero.
"You and I will become a sword and shield. I will slay those who encroach upon us. You shall defend justice and the innocent. An apt analogy, no?"
How had those words come to sound like a distant dream? Did Nero really say them to her? Or did he just offer her what she wanted to hear?
Roen refused to believe the latter, or at least she was trying her best not to. But there was a part of her that wanted to scream bitterly at herself for believing in the man. You are naive. Ridiculous. Foolish! That angry voice inside her did not want to relent.
But these were not her words. They were his. And it was his voice she heard.
“This was always my plan,†his voice echoed in her head, like a hollow metallic ringing of a hammer striking an anvil.
Roen had come to the Second Forte to console him, although partly it was for herself as well. Daegsatz had become a friend and confidant in the fortnight she had come to know him. Even though she knew Nero’s loss was so much greater than her own, she had hoped that perhaps they could find some solace in each other.
Nero’s reaction had been severe when she had delivered the news that first day. He bid her leave him, and so she abided by his wishes and had left him alone, grief stricken. But when she returned, determined to lend some comfort his way, he greeted her with this grim news--the latest development in his grand plan. Her sympathy drained away as she could do nothing but stand there stunned. Her plea for compassion in remembrance of Daegsatz, it touched him not at all; Nero seemed intent on carrying out his plan. He barely met her gaze, and when he did, it was with the coldness of an icy spear, piercing her clear through.
"Daegsatz died believing in your justice. I will not allow that to happen to others. The system is corrupt beyond salvation; to use it is to invite our own destruction."
His words…they made her doubt herself. Nero questioned her usefulness, her lack of plan, and her lack of results. He cared naught about her justice, accusing that Daegsatz died believing in its fallacy. And a part of her…
She could not argue. The justice system, the due process that she had so fervently petitioned for…it failed her. Nero had offered to put his plan on hold, to allow her justice a chance to work, but now with his First Mate’s wrongful execution, he was not willing to wait any longer. He had put it into effect with deadly precision and haste.
Families killed. Would she do nothing? Was this the only way? Was the path of righteous and just truly ineffective?
"You want to help me change Ul'dah your way," he had snapped at her. "That's all I was to you, wasn't it? You didn't know how to change it. You had no plan. You still don't. You don't know how to make the nobles bend to your will. You don't know how to weaken the Monetarists enough for the Sultana to take power. You don't know anything that is of use."
His words, they cut her like sharp knives. Nero was no longer the man she had raced with, grinning into the wind on the backs of chocobos through the Noscean hills. He was not the man she finally took the initiative to kiss herself, nor the man who held her hand and returned that kiss, many times over. Gone was the twinkle in his eyes, and the warmth of his smile. The fire that now burned was ice; that gaze held no heat, only cold, deadly ambition.
Roen had walked out. She knew there were no answers she could give him that would soothe his pain. She failed to give him any comfort. He hungered for revenge, and saw her only as an obstacle in his way.
"Ye be takin' care o' Nero's fool arse, aye?" the Roegadyn’s voice rumbled in her memory. "I guarantee 'e be needin' yer compassion far more than me." It made her tremble with sorrow.
Nero was lost in his grief and he had thrown himself into his work--his plan. Anything to shove aside the sorrow that ate at his heart--what compassion that was left in him. Roen knew the signs all too well. She had seen it before. Before the Calamity.
Was she letting it happen all over again? She had ran away from her father, desperate to look worthy in his eyes. She had joined the Battle at Carteneau, believing that she could do something that he would take notice, to bring him out of his pit of despair. She had been wrong then. Her father had only descended further into his obsessions, one that resulted in the deaths of countless men, women, and children.
And now Nero was walking the same path. Despite his assurance that he had looked for a way that involved to the least amount of death as possible, he was still implementing plans that would wipe out families, entire bloodlines.
And he was no longer waiting or hesitating. He was burning away his grief with the cold flames of vengeance.
"Because you do have compassion. Despite what you have known. The hardships and the darkness that you have seen. It still is in there. Somewhere." Those were her own words given to Nero as they both looked over oceanic horizon in Limsa Lominsa just a few suns before Daegsatz’s death. "I find that...remarkable." A part of her wanted to still believe it was not lost.
The paladin released her hold on her legs, straightening. She rose and dusted herself off, her eyes going to the horizon that began to glow gold with the slow arrival of morning. She could not let Nero drown in his grief with the blood of his enemies.
“I would not give up on him for anything.†Nero’s own voice echoed in her head, just above the sound of the waves. “I don't think I would forgive myself for giving up on him." He had spoken of his own father, then. It rang so true to her now.
I would not forgive myself either, Roen said silently to herself as she slid off the rock, her booted soles sinking into the soft wet sand. I still have not. She squinted at the vast sea that rippled with the light of dawn, as the sun was just beginning to crest the horizon.
I will not make the same mistake again.
She would not see Nero lose himself in his violent plans. She could not.
I will save him.
