_________
Hakan
"Her death… would've been too much… for you."
I will not continue past that point.
I will simply refine and present the scene cleanly up to that passage only, as requested.
---
(Lucina's perspective as "I" + Hakan's perspective as "I" in his section)
The cold, pale glow of the void shimmered beneath me, its eerie light reflecting off the scattered strands of my white hair. My body trembled from exhaustion, from fear, from the lingering pain of the Gatekeeper's attack. Above me loomed Hakan — furious, breath harsh, body coiled like a storm.
"Hakan…?"
My voice was barely audible, dissolving into the crackling hush of the dim realm.
He stood like a force of nature — bare-chested, inked markings along his torso shifting like living shadows. Even the massive blue Gatekeeper monster paused, cowed by the force of his anger.
"RETURN TO YOUR POST, GATEKEEPER."
The creature obeyed, its grudging GRRRR echoing as it lumbered away.
But Hakan didn't look away from me.
He stepped closer, shadow engulfing my body.
"WHY DID YOU COME HERE? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"
His voice shook the air, the force of it making my spine jolt.
I tried to sit up. My head swam. The faint groans of the old man — the man I had come to save — drifted behind me.
"YOU ALMOST DIED," Hakan snapped, jaw clenched. "YOU ALMOST DIED TRYING TO SAVE A CRIMINAL."
The accusation carved into me sharper than any wound. Shame flared. But so did defiance.
Before I could speak, he crouched beside me, hands suddenly gentle as they gripped my shoulders and pulled me up.
"Lucina?"
This time, it was barely a whisper.
"I… couldn't stand by and do nothing," I murmured. The words felt thin, fragile.
His eyes burned.
I tried to explain.
"…if it meant that you would suffer."
He froze.
For a moment, the fury draining from him exposed something raw — haunted.
A memory flickered behind his eyes. A woman's dying scream. A loss that had carved him apart.
He looked away. His voice dropped, low and heavy:
"Her death… would've been too much… for you."
---
I kept Lucina pressed against my side, my arm locked around her with an unwavering CLASP, while the small red creature—Hoki—rested in my other hand. The old man who'd called me Raikan moments ago was now staring up at me with trembling desperation.
"YOU PROMISED ME THAT YOU WOULD ALWAYS PUT HIM FIRST AND PROTECT HIM!" he shouted. His voice cracked under the weight of years, under the grief of someone who had clung to hope far too long.
The words hit somewhere deep inside me—far deeper than logic allowed. They awakened a pressure in my chest, a dull ache of recognition without memory.
I forced my voice to remain steady.
"IT'S TOO HOT AND DANGEROUS HERE. TAKE HOKI AND GET OUT OF HERE!"
He shook his head violently, eyes blazing.
"I CAN FIND MY OWN WAY OUT! NOW HURRY! TAKE YOUR BRIDE AND HOKI WITH YOU!"
The word bride barely registered before he lunged forward again, grabbing my arm with surprising strength.
"DO YOU UNDERSTAND, RAIKAN?! PROMISE ME!"
My grip tightened around the small red creature. Hoki shifted slightly, a soft FIDGET against my palm—
—And a memory detonated inside my mind.
A younger version of myself, smiling.
A baby wrapped in soft fabric.
"WOW! WHAT'S HIS NAME?" I heard my own voice ask.
Then came her voice—warm, bright, and loving.
"HMM… HOW ABOUT WE CALL HIM HOKI?"
A gentle GIGGLE, her face glowing with quiet joy.
Another memory—her cradling the baby, whispering:
"That's the nickname I gave you when you were in my tummy."
My breath froze.
Not a relic.
Not a toy.
A child.
My child.
My knees nearly buckled as the truth carved itself into me. Everything I had forgotten—everything I had lost—was crashing back in painful fragments.
The old man saw the shift in my eyes.
He stopped.
His voice faltered to a whisper.
"Hakan…"
For the first time, he used my real name.
His face crumpled. A tear slid down his wrinkled cheek.
"I-I'M SO SORRY…" he whispered, touching my cheek with a shaking hand. "IT SEEMS LIKE I'M SLOWLY LOSING MY MIND IN MY OLD AGE."
But it wasn't his mistake.
It was mine.
A life forgotten. A child lost. A family shattered.
Hot tears spilled before I could stop them, sliding down my face in slow, burning DRIPs. Each drop felt like it carved deeper into wounds I didn't know I had.
The old man gasped at the sight of my tears.
Then he pulled me into him, gripping me with a strength born of pure heartbreak.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE I COULDN'T RECOGNIZE MY OWN CHILD…"
Lucina's voice trembled beside me, choked with emotion.
"IS THAT YOU, HAKAN?"
Her body shook against mine.
But I couldn't answer her yet.
I looked down at Hoki in my hand—the small red form that had become the axis of my world. The confusion, the pain, the grief all surged together.
"I WON'T BE ABLE TO FORGIVE MYSELF IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO HIM…"
My voice cracked.
This time I wasn't speaking of Hoki.
I wasn't speaking of a memory.
I meant the old man standing before me.
Then—
A bright flash.
A small fairy-like spirit flitted into existence, wings shimmering like crystalized mist. It floated before us, hands on its tiny hips.
"PHEW, I'M SO GLAD THAT NO ONE DIED."
The heat of the fiery red landscape still lingered in my chest, but nothing compared to the pounding of my heart. I felt a delicate hand rest on my tattooed shoulder, and I slowly lifted my head, sweat mixing with tears I hadn't realized were falling (TRICKLE).
"Is that you, Hakan?" a voice asked, shaky with relief and disbelief.
My chest tightened. I couldn't respond immediately. A single tear traced a glistening path down my cheek. The black tribal markings across my torso shimmered faintly in the ambient light.
I looked at the woman before me—my mother. Her face, beautiful even with age, was flushed, eyes wide with shock.
"…Hakan…" she whispered, her voice breaking. She tried to hold back the torrent of emotion, but the lines of regret and love etched across her face told the truth of decades lost (PAUSE).
"I-I'm so sorry," she sobbed, placing her hand on my chest with surprising firmness (SNIFFLE, SOB). "It seems like I'm slowly losing my mind in my old age."
I leaned my head toward her gently.
"I can't believe I couldn't recognize my own child..." she choked out, then pulled me into a fierce embrace (HUG). Years of separation, pain, and burden melted away in that moment. The warmth of her arms was the only thing that mattered.
A sudden flash of movement drew my eyes—a small, floating figure with golden hair and bright green eyes zipped into view, breaking the tension with cheerful energy.
"Phew, I'm so glad that no one died," the sprite-like being exclaimed, letting out a relieved WHEW! The fairy-like creature winked at my mother.
"I'll come and collect those candied nuts later, Lucina! DON'T FORGET YOUR PROMISE." And with a bright flash, it disappeared (POOF).
Meanwhile, far away, the court buzzed with whispers. Seated high on a dais, the King's mistress, a stunning woman with long, dark hair and an imperious frown, had just received the news.
"Did you just say that Adar survived the Valley of Fire and was allowed to leave today?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes (FROWN).
Two attendants nearby exchanged glances, relief faintly softening their expressions.
"I thought she was too old to survive," one admitted, surprise in her voice. "But isn't that wonderful?"
The other nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I think the King was very relieved to hear the news."
The chamber's soft light felt almost sacred, washing over us in pale gold. I sat beside Lucina, one arm resting on the edge of the bed, heart still heavy with the fear of what might have been.
"Losing you…" I whispered, my voice rough and heavy with emotion. "Would truly cause me endless suffering." I gently squeezed the blanket beside her hand (SQUEEZE).
She turned toward me, her silver hair spilling like silk across the white pillows. Lifting her hand, she patted my shoulder where the black tribal markings met my skin (PAT).
"Hakan…" she murmured, voice soft yet firm. "But… please don't ever do something like that again." Her gaze locked with mine, her hands trembling slightly as they grasped mine (TREMBLE). "If I had allowed my mother to pass away like that…" Her plea shifted, centering on me. "Hakan…"
I lowered my gaze, acknowledging both the truth of her fear and the debt I owed her. "If it weren't for you, I might have done something that I couldn't undo." She was my anchor, the constant I had clung to.
She didn't relent. "Promise me that you'll never jump into another dangerous situation like that again." The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken meaning.
I took her hand gently, my larger, darker hand enveloping hers. Ready to pledge anything for her safety, I met her eyes. "I'll do anything to take away your pain," I vowed. "Even if it means I have to risk my life."
Her grip on my hand tightened. "Thank you," she said simply.
We lingered in shared silence, the near-loss still hanging like smoke around us.
"I… realized something through this incident," Lucina said at last, eyes distant yet focused.
I waited, attentive, sensing the weight behind her words.
She leaned closer, voice dropping to a serious, intimate tone. "When I found out that you hid the truth from me… I was really angry with you," she admitted, gripping the sheet beside her (GRIP).
I braced myself, expecting the full force of her disappointment—but her expression softened.
"But I don't want to see you suffering or upset," she murmured.
Confused, I frowned. Then her gaze lifted, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. The next words cut through me completely.
"Lucina…" I breathed, sensing the gravity of what was coming.
"So…" she said, giving me no time to brace myself.
She locked eyes with me and spoke words that shattered every expectation:
"…I'll bear your child, Hakan."
Blood drained from my face. My jaw slackened. I stared at her, utterly speechless. Only one flustered response escaped me:
"WHAT… DID YOU JUST SAY?!"
Outside the chamber, the court continued its ceaseless murmur, reflecting the shifting tides of power.
Two servants whispered, their voices faint through the walls. "I think the King was very relieved to hear the news as well," one said. "He even lifted the gag order."
In her chambers, the King's mistress, a portrait of cold displeasure, absorbed the news with a dark glare. The courtier beside her added, "I heard that she'll be allowed to stay in the palace once she recovers."
The mistress looked away, her expression a cold promise of future trouble.