Once: a Songs of War Oneshot Collection

Part 1: We meet Again

A/N: 

this takes place just after Ingressus' death.

Shoutout to sp3ctreZ (I hope I spelt that right lol) for being my first (and only) follower!!! I love their Songs of War fanfics and fanart! If you like this fandom make sure to check out their stories!

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Achillean Nestoris sat on a wooden pier, fishing rod dangling into the glistening cerulean of the water. The sky above was blue, a line of fluffy clouds floating just above the horizon, and the grass and sugar cane waved gently in the soft breeze. Achillean had come to this place some time ago, but then again, he wasn't very sure of time, as it passed differently here.

Here, in peace. Here, after life. Yas, Achillean was now at rest, his soul spending it's days back in his childhood home, in Nestoria, where he had grown up. It was completely deserted - the others had moved on, after all, whereas Achillean had moved back. Back, to a time when life was simpler. Before the war, before... everything. The only sound was the vegetation rustling faintly, the ocean gently lapping at the shore, and...

"A- Achillean?"

The voice. It couldn't be real. The voice of the one he had grown up with, in this very place. It couldn't be.

"Achillean?"

There it was again. The Nestoris turned his head, expecting to see nothing but further stretches of ocean, of blue sky, of his childhood home. But instead his eyes found the figure of the one who matched the voice - saw his vermillion markings, fading to orange near the ends like an eternal sunset.

The markings of the one who had come into his life, given it the spark that it lacked, comforting him, and also being comforted by him.

The markings of the one who had uprooted his life, blazes burning bright, as one by one, the masters of the Ardoni Clans fell, and the Prime songs stolen. Of the one who had journeyed to Nestoria, and attempted one last theft - or many. One of a song... but many of innocent lives.

The markings of the one who had steadied his trembling hands as they held a training weapon for the first time, had adjusted his grip, and who, even though he always won, was there to look after Achillean when he was hurt. And when he didn't, simply was happy for the Nestoris.

The markings of the one who had dueled him upon Mount Velgrin, every teaching coming into play as Achillean fought against the power of the Prime Songs and the corrupted rage that laid behind them. The red hue in those very lights that represented everything Achillean had been taught to fear, taught to hate, everything that had torn his father away from him.

The markings of a monster.

The markings of his brother.

Did the Deathsinger still remain, or was the Ardoni that stood before him simply Ingressus, the one he had known from childhood?

"Achillean, I- I'm sorry,"

Memories swamped Achillean's mind, filling him with joy and sorrow, comfort and pain, anger and fear, regret, contentment, and love.

He remembered the joy of the times when they were young, teaching each other skills, being there for each other, watching the sunset and seeing the awe on Ingressus' face as he took in the red and orange hues that slowly changed to yellow, then further to purple, and blue...

He remembered the searing pain of the songs that tore through his body, his life leaving him as he drew his final breaths at the hand of the Deathsinger...

"Is it possible for you to forgive me?" Ingressus reached out a shaking hand, and for reasons unbeknownst to him, Achillean took it, his emotions still raging, his mind screaming you remember what he did to you, what he took from you, what he deserves!

But soon different memories came rushing in. Memories of waking up in an unfamiliar house, in an unfamiliar land, surrounded by those he had been taught to fear. The yellow of one of the Ardoni clans that had hunted the Voltaris relentlessly.

The memories went even further back, and Achillean felt the terror of a young boy as he hid, shivering, in a makeshift camp, twisted tunes of Songs firing outside. He watched as blue, purple, green, and yellow markings moved through the snow, and saw red markings flicker out into black, the colour of darkness, of death.

But he also felt the tentative hope as the memories sped forward again, and a strange happiness as the young Voltaris watched a small Nestoris with golden lights fish by the shore.

He saw images flash past, accompanied by powerful emotions; joy and sorrow, comfort and pain, anger and fear, regret, contentment... and love.

These images slowed, forming a final image of another sunset, the red and orange hues slowly darkening as the sun slipped below the horizon.

"Many times have I watched the sun set... watched as the sky turned bright with colors... the colors of my clan. I am glad to see the sun set once more," A familiar Ardoni, adorned in bright Voltaris red but still recognizable as one of the young ones who fought as a Knight of Ardonia with pure white lights still shining from his markings, stood to the side, holding Voltar, the Voltaris Master Staff.

Achillean felt the pain of the wounds in his body, and yet the perfect clarity that came as the corruption of the Prime songs slowly left it, along with the last remnants of his life. He felt the relief that replaced the corruption, as his vision grew blurred and he dropped to his knees.

But that wasn't Achillean. And it wasn't the Deathsinger.

It was Ingressus, and only him, at last. No more Prime Songs, no more of the anger or twisted hate that they brought with them, only that clarity, beautiful, painful clarity as the Voltaris remembered what he'd done... and what- who- he'd lost.

"I forgive you, Ingressus. I forgive you,"