Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there was a knight. He walked alone.

Aimless, bitter, wandered he, and hoped for grief's decrease.

Memories escaped his grasp. He searched, searched for a home.

So, Libestal - Kingdom stained - therein he found his peace.

King and Queen, he found. A guild, Cerulean, as well.

And in his Pearl, the Lady Watson, love that would not cease.

Before his sword and empathy, the Stains recoiled and fell.

Content and humble, sallied forth the knight in cape of white.

And with his guild, he found within, his loneliness dispelled.

His spirit is alight where it once was bitter. His sword feels familiar, not alien. His oath to Queen and Kingdom stands firm. It is unwavering.

Ser Gonathon G. is a mere humble knight.

The days have passed hectically in Libestal after the heroes' first encounter with the Stain King, and still they do.

The Stains wander outside the walls freely. Libestal is in desperate need of supplies, and moreover, salvation.

And so.

Gonathan does what a humble knight does. He toils tirelessly, knowing that he must support his Queen and Kingdom. Alms, he gives to the poor. Swords, he provides to the armoury. Dreams, he encourages in the young. And honour, he stokes in all hearts.

But the enigma remains.

It was the power of Revelation that drove back the Stain King. Yet its strength is as none know.

He and his fellow heroes search for memories made foreign to them. They search for a power that is beyond them. And Gonathon knows in his heart that the enigma must not remain so forever.

The day that they come upon the gate to the Underworld is the day the enigma begins to crack.

In a timeless realm, Gonathan and his companions fight the dead.

And at its end, a memory awaits him and his companions all.

It is the memory of the Reaper.

His power of Revelation grows.

And so too does a seed of worry.

The days become weeks. The weeks months. And the work continues. The Stain King has not returned, yet Gonathon fears the kingdom will never quite be ready.

Like his many companions, he ventures out, slaying wandering Stains and preparing the kingdom for what is to come.

The dungeons beckon, and within, they find Revelation. Within, they find memories. Those of an Atlantean shark. Those of an eldritch maiden.

And as darkness seeps into the Kingdom, and the Queen departs on expedition, the joy within Gonathon births a small bitterness.

It festers in him as his power of Revelation grows, and with it, realisation.

One day, this will all be memory. And he will be no longer.

And his Pearl will be no longer.

Why does he fear that so?

Once upon a time, there was a knight.

His Queen afar, the land corrupt. At war.

Still humble, noble, strong. His heart was right.

His friends returned with memories restored.

But gone were those he'd known. His peace had flown.

He wished... that ne'er 'gain be revealed... this lore.

He knows.

He knows his Pearl has memories of her own.

And when they return, she may remember old wishes and old loves. They may push aside new ones. He cannot burden her with those of a stranger.

Gonathon accepts in his heart that she may desire to move on. That she may be lost to him soon.

But if he could say he shone just as brightly in her memory, if only for a moment, is that not enough?

The day he emerges from the sewers is the most conflicted he has been. The memories there are those of his Pearl. More does he understand her. And in a way, it is the closest he has ever felt to her.

And yet. He knows what she does not. And when they have returned to even footing, who will she be to him?

That, he does not know. But he need not cry over nothing. His Pearl will be complete, entirely herself. When she is ready. It is a happy thing.

The days pass. And Gonathon's selfish thoughts turn to loneliness. He pours himself into the statue of the Queen. He showers his Pearl with his love. A statue for her too, yes. One day soon.

And then, it is one day, soon.

That day, his Pearl returns from expedition, from the place her memories lay. Where they could become truly hers once more. 

Gonathon is at work when she emerges from Queen Mario's keep.

His Pearl approaches, and he runs up to her.

Her smile is radiant, and her eyes bright. Somewhere in there is the warmth of recollection. Is some of that warmth still for him?

He longs to hear her voice. "My dear sweet Pearl! Hello!"

"I am your Pearl?"

Despite himself, his voice stumbles. Does she no longer love him?

"I heard that... you had gotten your memories back."

"Yes... And you are?"

His voice catches. He can suddenly no longer meet her eyes.

Now he realises.

The brightness and warmth in her eyes is not for him. There is nothing there for him. Desire, hope, love, comfort, the promise of life together. Nothing.

Not even the sparkle of memory.

He bows. He is just a mere humble knight, and he says so.

From her own mouth, he learns her name. Amelia. It is a memory. A joyous memory. It is a happy thing.

For Amelia, it is a memory of their meeting. For him, a memory of farewell.

It is not long after they part.

He finds a book upon which to write. He finds a corner in town where he will not be disturbed. It is not far from where he and his Pearl first became co-conspirators. Perhaps it was here also where their love first took root.

The prayer in him will not reach the gods. And so he will hide that prayer here instead, deep within the kingdom that is now his home.

He finds the words come to him as slowly and unsteadily as the movement of his pen on paper.

He need not cry. His Pearl is her own now. It is a happy thing.

And so.

In lieu of tears, he spills ink. In lieu of tissues, parchment accepts his sorrow.

And when he has no more words - when his mouth is dry and his eyes emptied - he signs his story. A silly little fiction, really. Knights too can have silly little dreams.

He is merely surprised at how heavy the pages feel.

The book takes him to where a book ought. The library.

There, he hands it to Cecilia the Green to be put on the shelves. There, he entombs his thoughts. The library can be the final resting place of his Pearl. Of his selfish wishes. Of his greed.

He takes his leave.

There is still darkness in the kingdom. There are swords to be made and Stains to be slain, if his queen is to return to a kingdom ready for rightful rule.

He takes up his own sword, and with it, the power of Revelation.

Even a lone diamond can still shine; it can reflect the stars in the night.

And it can take the weight of the world before it breaks.

Once upon a time, there was a knight. He walked alone.

On dark nights, when there was nothing to hope for and no one to hear his prayers, he walked alone.

The kingdom teetering on the brink was loud. But he could not hear it over the sound of his heart. He stood alone.

Chapter Text

He knelt alone.

The statue of Tam Gandr stood unfinished. Her terracotta form was cut in rough angles. Only her face was properly and beauteously shaped. The Queen's likeness gazed grandly over the city and the guilds' lands.

Gonathon G stared out past his queen. He stared at the sky over the city walls. The boldness of the evening sun as it sank towards the west quieted him. He realised his hands were trembling slightly. The entire day had passed in careful claywork.

The scratching of his pen on paper already felt like a distant memory. The Knight's Tale had felt like it might burn a hole in his pack, so he'd dropped it in his supply chest. When the library was open again, he'd be able to gift it then.

Even then, with those thoughts behind him and the task of the queen's statue set before him, that selfish wish of his still lingered in his mind.

Are there any gods out there...

He bowed his head so that his queen might not see his shameful tears.

So it was, that in vivid lights of evening, the blue queen revealed herself.

Many times before, the gods had heard and granted Gonathon's requests. His recent victory at the arena, too, he had dedicated to them. Had they now returned his queen to him?

"My queen," he said, rising. He stopped.

Her hair was as dark as the queen's, but the woman before him was a few inches too short to be Tam Gandr; she did not have the queen's curvaceous figure. She did not wear the Libestal robe like the heroes, those summoned to this world. In fact, her attire was slim and simple. A suit, but unlike any he remembered seeing. And a blue ribbon in her hair.

She had spectacles on her eyes, like he had not seen anywhere save for the monocle worn by Amber Coin's guildmaster. And she had a kindly smile.

Perhaps, then, she was one of the gods?

Were there gods for each of the guilds, and if so, was she a Cerulean God? Gonathon knelt once more and considered the proper way of addressing her.

"Fair... lady, welcome. How might I be of service?"

There were a few moments of silence. Was the Lady appraising him?

"Wow, Kronii. Even here, you have your admirers."

He lifted his gaze. The Cerulean Lady was looking up at his statue. After another moment, she turned to him.

"Did you build this?" Her accent was not one he could place, although it was familiar.

"It is the queen, Tam Gandr! Is it not in her beautiful likeness?"

She turned back to the statue, and this time, he could see her face. Her gaze was melancholic, but almost afire with joy - a deeply treasured memory played within her eyes. A curious jolt of jealousy gripped Gonathon's heart.

It was like seeing an emotion like his. Yet it was that same emotion refined into a fire and passion that knew exactly where to go.

It was a purpose he aspired to. Yes, this Lady must be one of the gods.

"You look troubled." It took him a second to realise that the Lady was speaking to him. "Is something the matter?"

"It is nothing. I... I am merely tired after a hard day's work. Yes, that is all."

Now, the Lady was definitely appraising him. "You know. It is very good to work hard, but it's also good to rest. When my friend wasn't sure how to achieve their dreams, sometimes, all I could do was make sure they slept, and sometimes cry with them when they were down."

"You must cry?" asked Gonathon.

That melancholic joy shone again in her face. "Sometimes, you must wait and let yourself cry. Eventually, a little Time can bridge the gaps. Sometimes, you are not waiting for things to be the same. Sometimes, you are waiting for new things. You can't climb a tree when it is a sprout."

Gonathon thought on her words. He felt certain he'd read something similar at the library recently. Both then and now, the words were still a puzzle. But he said, "My, what wise words." For they were, he knew.

"I must go now," the Lady announced.

"So soon?"

The Lady looked a little embarrassed. "Well, there's always something for me to do. But I felt called here, so I came."

"But of course. I understand," Gonathon replied. Then, he frowned. "Forgive me, fair maiden. I did not even ask your name."

"Ah, it's not important. I'm just... A friend."

She took his hand - he had not even realised he had offered it - and shook it. Her hands were warm.

In the last flash of sunlight beneath the wall's crenellations, the statue of Tam seemed aglow.

He blinked. The Cerulean Lady was gone.

And Gonathon was alone again.

The steps to the sewers were slick. It did not often rain in Libestal, but when it did, the land seemed to be refreshed.

Idly, Gonathon recalled his guild's cabin. He remembered returning once from the land around the city, and seeing the queen hard at work building it. And although the second floor had not yet been built, he had lain there on the stairs and fallen asleep. He had been tired, true, but more than that, he had been eager to embrace the results of the queen's work. It was perhaps this above all else that had drawn her up in his mind. A queen willing to devote herself to the well-being of her people - was not such a queen worthy of devotion in return?

Now, here, he remembered those peaceful days.

The crystal he held now was a bitter artifact of those days.

The warp crystal that glittered in his hands was a memory of time and an imagination of space. It was cold where his Pearl had been warm. But it promised wonders as deep as her mind had been, and was as lovely a gift as her mere presence.

It reflected the disappointment that he had once held within him. He could almost see a ghost cradling the crystal. The ghost of his Pearl whom he missed terribly.

For this thing that made the land so connected to be a reminder of a connection severed...

Gonathon stood. It would not do to always hold so tightly to what was gone. Was sadness not as fleeting as any wound?

He pocketed the crystal and crested the steps until the path to the city was once again in view.

In the early twilight, he saw them in the grasses. A small army of Stains marched on their way to the city gates. Some small dozens, far too many for one alone to handle. But the city must be protected.

"This, I cannot allow!" The strangely familiar gauntlets of his were in his hands again. He dove at the foul beasts, the weight of the gauntlets carrying him forward. "Revelation!"

A series of explosions rocked the earth around him, and the Stains recoiled. Thunder filled his ears. His hands trembled.

"I am Gonathon G, Knight of Tam Gandr and Libestal, And yet, I need no title, see? My honour is my Queen. My glory is the lands of Libestal." His diamond sword flashed in his hands, shadowed only in each moment it passed through a Stain's soon-to-be corpse. The dawn shone within him. He remembered when only a couple of the Stains might have laid him low. Now, they were an afterthought.

"To guard the city is my life and loyalty." He felled another and another. Their blows fell upon him; they were many. Wounds accumulated on his own cloak. Blood began to spill as he saw his duty fulfilled, and the Stains dwindled.

"I am just a mere... humble knight."

He was breathing hard. The sword moved onerously, but he did not give ground to the Stains as they circled and leered at him. They were but one trouble. And he was a knight. He had still more to give to a kingdom that needed him.

Chapter Text

The moon dwindled in the shadow of eclipse that night. Its course through the sky was always smooth and swift in Libestal.

Two figures were looking out over the land from the castle terrace. The stone facades of the keep behind them seemed to twinkle in what little moonlight and starlight fell to the earth.

For what seemed like the first time in a long while, Libestal lay quiet. There was only a whisper of wind that brushed gently past the trees. That, and the voices of the two who were there under the stars. One sat in one of the battlements' crenelles, her doll-like legs dangling over the edge and her lance propped up beside her. The other stood not far behind her, his comically oversized gauntlets still donned, resting against either side of his comparatively diminutive frame.

"Immergreen," Gonathon G formed the name around his lips like a new flavour, though he'd said it before. "Cecilia Immergreen. Yes, the name has always suited you. I'm glad it is yours!"

"Was there any doubt? I feel like I knew all along." The green automaton said from her seat, legs dangling and mouth quirked in a smile, though there was a smidge of embarrassment there.

"Well... you did go by names that weren't that name."

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" Cecilia leaned back. Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

"No! No, of course not. I would never doubt the word of a fellow knight! Especially not one who is a fellow wolf!" Gonathon howled at the moon. Cecilia laughed and howled with him.

The sound echoed out into the open sky. It was perhaps a small miracle that castle guards didn't come up and shoo them away, but perhaps again, they'd grown quite used to all manner of strange shenanigans. Heroes from another land who fancied themselves wolves was the least of the oddities they'd seen in recent days.

Gonathon continued, "I am glad then that you were able to regain your rightful memories! And your name which is very important as well."

"I know!"

Cecilia kicked her feet back and forth. The soft night air was a smooth sensation. So many memories were in their right places, and she found comfort in that peace and in Gonathon's presence. No sooner had those thoughts passed than she heard Gonathon take a couple footsteps toward her before pausing. She felt his tone grow somber even before he'd spoken. Even though his energy bubbled behind each of his words.

"How did it feel to regain your memories? Memories that are yours! Not someone else's..."

"It was quite similar to all the other times we've gained new memories, but stronger. It was like when I realised my love for Princess Iphania, and how that made me feel."

"You felt love?"

"I felt restored. At home."

She knew he had begun to pace even before she turned around.

"Gonathon..."

"I have been wondering, after so long, what will it be like for me. What if I am not who I think I am at all? What if I'm someone else entirely? Someone who is not noble. Someone who is wicked." Panic started to sprout in his words. "What if I am someone who wouldn't be loyal to their queen? What if I am someone who cannot love? Who should not love. Who cannot be-"

"Gonathon! Stop moving!"

Gonathon stopped.

"Sorry." But he met her eyes briefly. His eyes were tender - an open invitation - as always, but today, there was a firmness to them that actually reflected his determination.

"Sit here, Gonathon," she shifted over so there was space for him to press next to her between the merlons.

He came to where she was and tried to sit down, almost punching her with his gauntlets - "put those away", "okay, sorry" - His legs dangled over the edge next to hers.

"Dear knight. Gonathon. Dear Gigi."

"Gigi?" Gonathon whispered to himself. His breath caught; a distant memory wouldn't come to him.

There was just a hint of confusion in her face as her expression resolved into a kind smile. There was so much familiarity in there, so much more than either of them could yet know.

"Why are you so worried about who else you might be? Don't you trust who you will be? Could anyone terrible be a noble knight like you?"

"Maybe. I don't know." He was no longer pacing, but he couldn't seem to sit still.

"Remember when I had decided to stay in the past Libestal?" Cecilia prodded. "I... definitely wasn't being greedy" - she smiled - "but you believed that I could do it. We would meet again. You made sure I had shelter. Remember?"

"I remember."

"Good! And you told me my feelings for the princess must be true because they were mine."

"Did I say that?"

"Yes!" Cecilia said the word like it was the most indignant demand. "Yes, you did! And now, I think, you should think the same about yourself. Your should trust who you are."

"I do! I do think that. Only, I do not think I am kind like you. I do not know if I can trust all my feelings."

He couldn't say more. He couldn't push a burden that was his onto her. He felt he had an idea of who he was. He learned it inch by inch, mile by mile, memory by memory. But the goalpost was still so far away.

Then, Cecilia held his hand. It had again the warmth of familiarity.

"Trust us then. Trust that we'll be there for you. We'll be waiting. We've all faced the trials in Libestal together. Why wouldn't we face what is to come after? Together. For Justice!"

Doubts still rose to Gonathon's mind. Dozens like little bubbles of uncertainty. In the past, the doubts would have come spilling out of his mouth. But he took a deep breath and let himself meet Cecilia's eyes.

"For Justice, then. I will trust you, Miss Immergreen. I will trust all of you."

On the horizon, the sun was rising.

The crystal was a haunting presence in that plain white room.

It was no different from any memory crystal thus far. Imposing, glowing, waiting there to reveal all.

That night on the terrace played in his mind over and over, like a broken record.

He would've accepted that Cecilia's name was Immerkind as well. For she had been kind to him. She had let him see past doubt. As the sun rose, she had kissed his forehead, and if he had cried like he once might have, she would have wiped away those tears. He knew this.

The crystal bobbed up and down in the still air.

His hand trembled.

Corruption, Stains, Outsiders, Libestans. Friends made and foes slain. A thousand faces passed him by. And now he had only to remember his own.

There was a heat like revelation. As though his hands found new strength within themselves. As though some forgotten connection between hand and mind was being made anew. He stilled his hands.

Sorrow, pain, exhaustion. Lost love. It all slipped away, an old cloak whose clasp has finally come undone, whose threads fall away.

And now before him stood this crystal. The final crystal, and a final memory. His.

The kingdom no longer needed a knight. It was at peace.

There was no one left to lose. There was no one's happiness to sacrifice. There was nothing to abandon save the loss of himself.

Gonathon stood tall.

Cecilia Immergreen was waiting for him. Everyone was waiting.

In the distance, he must also be.

He was ready to face another memory.