Starter for @seraphynm : [ Verse: Fire Emblem Three Houses - Azure Moon }
When the war had began ( tolled in by the "death" of the crown prince and the murder of regent Grand Duke Rufus of Itha -- or so the witch had declared, her eyes of emerald shadowed with a darkness that no light cannot dare to pierce, lips of red pulled up into that delighted smile she always seemed to have permanently etched onto her fair features -- as if hiding the true nature of her soul ) Light knew that it only spelled doom for the people of Faerghus.
It did not take long to see who's loyalties lied where, with the western lords bending the knee to the Empire almost immediately, surrendering themselves to their folly and whims, with Cornelia no doubt pulling the strings from her perch upon the now empty throne of Castle Blaiddyd, the capital now turned into her playground as she sent out order after order to imprison and execute any detractors still loyal to the crown. Light had found himself amongst those thrown to the dungeon, for he had refused to hide his allegiances, firm in his beliefs and convictions and spitting back the poison they tried to make him drink -- to make him accept their new rule, their new power. Their lies would never find their hold, so if they couldn't convince him one way -- then they could another.
He cannot recall much of his time spent in captivity, whether by choice or not, Light did not to dwell on it, for it mattered not. He endured it, he refused to break, refused to bend. They couldn't break his spirit and they never will -- and when he had found his opportunity to escape, he took it, the blood that was spilled was necessary -- he can only pray they find their salvation in whatever was left of heaven.
He didn't dare look back.
He would never go back, not until Faerghus and her rightful ruler were returned.
When peace finally found her home back amongst the branches of their homeland.
His mind would return to the present ( when had he become lost within himself? ) and the once knight would raise silent blue eyes, taking in the moonlit scene of the broken cathedral. It stood still, even after these five years of conflict. Hauntingly beautiful and protecting the ghosts of the people who would have long left to be by the goddess' side.
The moonlight poured in from the gap in the ceiling and illuminated all, pouring her gentle light upon the cracks and stone -- and upon the lone figure that stood before the rubble.
Light did not speak nor call to the figure, merely watched.
Silent and sentinel, as he was trained to be.
