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Chapter Text

Silence had fallen over the city of Garlemald as the first snowflakes fluttered from the cloud-burdened heavens.  The quiet outside was still; as if the dark metropolis had been captured in a single moment in time.  It was the breath before another snowstorm, a frequent occurrence in the north during the winter.  By now, the Garleans had figured out how to ride out such blizzards.  With the help of magitek, it was all down to a precise, mechanical science.  It was a rhythm all were accustomed to at this point.  At the cusp of the snowstorm’s arrival, all would finish their business in public and then seek shelter in their homes.  When the magitek was able to clear the streets, it would.  Until then, it was a matter of waiting as the clouds brought their deluge of snow and the sturdy Garlean architecture endured it.

Gaius had opted to wait the storm out in the Garlond’s manor; a frequent haunt of his.  Casual observations would have come to the conclusion that this was due to his friendship with the illustrious Father of Magitek.  Keener eyes would have noted their fleeting but yearning glances in public. 

A wine glass comfortably rested in his hand, half-filled with a dark pomegranate-hued liquid.  Droplets of it clung to his upper lip as he lifted it, taking a sip.  His amber eyes brooded at the storm outside and his free hand hung limp until it was taken by the warmth of another palm.  Gaius’s eyes flitted to his left and he saw Midas there.  Their fingers intertwined for a moment before a quick kiss was shared.  Stolen moments were how they lived; at least at the present.  There was not a soul in all of Garlemald that knew of their relationship – young Cid included.  Cid, who sat just a room over, playing with some toys his father had made for him.  Gaius could hear the young lad’s excitement as one of the hand-crafted plane models lit up at the touch of a button.

Another stolen kiss and Gaius stiffened, his free hand moving to Midas’s chest as if to stop him.  It was tempting to find a nook and a heavy blanket to crawl under as the storm began to strengthen.  But Gaius had not come here for that.  His own household was a touch too quiet during days such as these.

“What is it?” Midas asked him, the silver of his hair matching the bleakness of the world outside as snow fell in heaps. 

“I do not want Cid to—” Gaius began.

“He seems a bit distracted at the moment,” Midas remarked and leaned in again.  Gaius’s hand stopped him, a frown creasing his lips.

“I would not tempt fate,” Gaius grumbled, his attention turning back to the snowfall for a split-second before feeling Midas’s hand on his jaw.  His head turned at his lover’s touch, directed back into Midas’s blue-gray eyes.

“Then would you indulge me in something else?” Midas asked, the cock of his brow enough to fluster Gaius ever so slightly.  He smiled and Gaius’s hand found itself trapped in the pleasant heat of Midas’s palm once more.

Letting himself be guided away from the window, Gaius followed Midas down the hall.  They passed by Cid playing with his magitek airships, his back thankfully to the doorway.  A small sigh of relief was breathed before they carried on into Midas’s study.  It was an ornate room, lined with bookshelves that reached to the very heights of the ceiling.  A massive desk rested at the back, made of dark metal and equipped with an overhead, adjustable light.  Behind it sat Midas’s comfortable armchair, where innovation was often birthed for the glory of Garlemald.  Computers rested against one of the walls and the other held a massive window that overlooked the snow-ridden street.

Midas let Gaius’s hand drop as he circled around the back of the desk, pulling one of its drawers open after unlocking it with a key.  Gaius stared at him for a moment, eyes slightly narrowed as documents were pulled out.  Midas sat them purposefully atop the desk, his expression shifting.

“And what is this?” Gaius asked.

“Formal papers that I would like for you to sign,” Midas said.  “Should you be willing to.”

Gaius’s left brow rose slightly and Midas came back around the desk, grabbing his hand.

“It’s a favor.  Naught more than that,” Midas began, dodging his gaze.  “I have been thinking much of Cid’s future as of late.  With the Emperor looking to expand the Empire’s reach even further with the use of magitek, it is not unfathomable to think I may be called afield.  And unlike you, I am no soldier.”

“Mid…” Gaius started, his eyes racing back to the papers and reading them over as best as he could from his peripherals.  It was a will. 

“It is only a precaution.  Should something befall me before Cid is a man grown…” Midas said, a weak smile on his lips.  “… I would entrust his future to you.”

It was hard suddenly to form words, as if a dam of saliva had caught in his throat.  He struggled to swallow it down, his chest radiating with an ache at the thought of a future that could very well never come to pass-- a future in which they were separated by the veil of death.

“Such a thing will not happen, Midas,” Gaius said softly.  “This is paranoia talking.”

“And yet we cannot know what the morrow will bring,” Midas replied.  “I would have you sign on to foster him should the worst happen.  Will you do this for me?”

Gaius’s shoulders sagged slightly with a sigh, looking from Mid to the documents.  A hand rested on his jaw, a gentle thumb coursing over his cheek.  The gesture drew the amber of his gaze back to Midas and his somber smile.  Gaius’s hand moved to enclose around that of his lover’s.

“… Very well,” Gaius said after a moment.  “Though I could scarcely see myself a father.  To any children.”

“I think you may surprise yourself.  You do quite well with Cid,” Midas remarked. 

“Cid is… an easygoing child,” Gaius said.

“You think so?” Midas asked with a chuckle, grabbing a pen and handing it to Gaius.  “I find him troublesome enough.  The lad’s too smart for his own good.”

“A trait that appears to be genetic,” Gaius retorted with a wry smirk, taking the pen and glancing over the papers.  He skimmed the fine print before signing off at the bottom, telling himself this was just a precautionary measure.  There would be no need for it, hopefully. 

“Done,” Gaius said the moment he was finished.  The black ink glistened in the dim lightning, glaring back at him as if to remind him this was a promise he could never take back.  No matter what happened.

When he faced Midas, their hands joined together for a moment.  There was a weight on his chest as he looked into those familiar silver-blue eyes.  Gaius tried to parse why he felt this way and found himself getting lost in sad fantasies.  What if such a dark future came to pass?  What if something happened and Cid was left bereft of both of his parents?  Gaius’s worry wrote itself across his features.  Midas’s hands gave his a squeeze before the both of them abruptly turned their attention to the sound of small footsteps in the hall.

Cid came running in with his toy airship in hand, making engine noises gleefully as he ran to tackle Midas’s legs.  Midas laughed, the sound of it merry in the midst of the quiet of the storm.  Gaius cherished the noise wordlessly, looking down at Cid as he giggled.  The young boy was lifted into the air and his laughter crested into a hitch-pitched shriek of delight.  Midas tossed him upwards and caught him deftly, looking to Gaius with a warm smile on his face.

“I wanna go higher!” Cid exclaimed and Midas gave a sigh.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to do that,” Midas said.  “However…”

Gaius felt eyes on him and he knew what was about to come next.  Cid ran for him, grabbing eagerly onto his pant leg.

“Lord Gaius!  Lord Gaius!  Pleeeeeeease?”

A swirl of his wrist was made before Gaius finished the contents of his drink, a flushed feeling creeping up his nape.  He set the glass down upon Midas’s desk, reaching down to pick young Cid up by his sides.  The boy squealed and Gaius lifted him onto his shoulders.  He jogged as Cid held up his plane, beaming happily and laughing.  Gaius did a few circles around the study, catching a glimpse of Midas’s amused smirk as he made his third lap.  That flushed feeling only seemed to burn harder, brighter.  The flight of Cid’s toy airship came to a gradual halt before long and Gaius removed the lad from his shoulders, lowering him onto the ground.  The kid bounded away excitedly and Gaius felt Midas’s gaze pierce into him.

“And you think you are terrible with children,” Midas tutted.

“I am… not the best,” Gaius grunted.

“You did perfectly,” Midas said, sidling next to him.  A hand rested atop of Gaius’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze.  “Now come.  The day is dreary and I have given you a heavy burden to carry should things go awry.  But I would not have the day be lost to such morose topics.  A game of chess?”

“Perhaps.  Though I recall last time, you attempted to cheat whilst I was using the privy,” Gaius smirked.

“I was only evening out the score,” Midas said with huff.  “Playing against a medaled military tactician means I need all the help I can get.”

“Right.”

A quick kiss was shared before the sound of something tumbling down and shattering rang out in the distance.  Midas sighed and looked in the direction Cid had run off towards.

“I suppose I better go clean up that first.”

Chapter Text

She was not like the others and that was a bad thing.  At least, that was what her grandmother had told her.  And Grandmother Chiyo knew everything; she had been the High Priestess once, well before Kaida had been born.  That meant Grandmother Chiyo was kami-touched and had bathed in the presence of the divine.  That meant Grandmother Chiyo always knew what she was talking about.  Though the elderly Raen’s face had grown wrinkled with how much she miserably scowled, there was a whip-like sharpness about her verdant green eyes—green matching the young, weeping Kaida’s.  Chiyo’s gnarled hand, which had overseen countless rituals to the kami, was fastened around her granddaughter’s right horn, pulling her down the hall as she screamed.  Tears flowed openly down young Kaida’s cheeks, splashing onto the dark marble tiles.

Her hands reached for the walls, fingers trying to find purchase as her grandmother dragged her.  They carried on past the front door of their mansion to a side room.  Chiyo’s rough grip intensified in the moment before Kaida was thrown to the ground, laying in a sobbing mess at the base of one of their clan’s ornate credenzas.  Atop it sat painted pictures of their former patriarchs and matriarchs along with value heirlooms.  Chiyo’s sour grumblings flowed in a ghost of a whisper, fringed with a serpentine hiss.  She ignited the tips of the incense nearby, small trails of smoke wafting into the air.  And then she rounded upon young Kaida, a sneer on her face.

“I do not know what kami I must pray to in order to make you behave, girl,” Chiyo snapped.

Where her grandmother had pulled upon her pearlescent white horn ached and one of Kaida’s small hands grabbed at it, shivering as she looked between Chiyo and the small altar. 

“Kaida.  Kaida Asagiri,” Chiyo said with the click of her tongue, signaling disappointment.  “A dishonor to name such a rowdy child after something so prestigious.  Why you cannot fall in line like the other children is beyond me.”

Kaida might have protested but that was it.  She had not even known where she had gone wrong.  All she had said was that she wanted to see the world beyond the surface.  The world where the sun could freely hit her skin and she could know the touch of grass underfoot.  Why was that so wrong?  Why was that so bad?

“You spit upon the kami’s gift,” Chiyo said.  “And to do so endangers all who make their home under the waves.  Do you not see?  That we are granted succor in the bountiful ocean is a blessing from the divine that can easily be taken back.  Would you insult the kami so by telling them you would rather ignore their gift?  Selfish girl!”

Kaida had no reply for that.  It all made sense, when her grandmother talked like that.  But her heart felt like it was being made into a pincushion.  All she had said was that she had wanted to go outside…

“If the kami take offense, the domes will vanish.  Each and every one.  And all within will be crushed to death.  Do you understand this, Kaida Asagiri?” Chiyo asked.  “The burden that all within the Blue Village must carry?  We were divinely picked to keep order in the Ruby Sea.  We are the mediums.  The sole source of hope.  We can suffer no aberrations.”

At the mention of her name, the young child had begun to weep once more, holding herself in her small arms.  Would the kami really do that?  Kill them all?  Her young heart and mind were broken at that idea.  Chiyo glared down at her mercilessly… and then her gaze softened slightly.

“You carry the name of two of the most prestigious clans in all of our village.  The Kaida clan, though their name has been extinguished for years now, was one of the first clans to appeal to the kami.  They were great warriors who guarded this sanctuary.  And the Asagiri clan has always produced children of high affinity for divination,” Chiyo said firmly.  “There is much ahead of you, child.  So discard your foolish notions and embrace your bloodline.  For any time one tries to run from their destiny, they often find themselves bound to it regardless.”

The elder’s eyes turned to the paintings and Kaida’s bleary gaze followed to the depictions of her ancestors.  They had cold gleams in their eyes—cold and lifeless, as if the paintings had been made of dolls.  Kaida did not like that.  She did not like this room.  The incense burned her nose, its earthy musk unpleasant. 

“Fate is a chain, Kaida Asagiri.  It will drag you to the place you are meant to be,” Chiyo continued.  It was a sentence that was not untrue.  But even Chiyo Asagiri could not predict where fate’s chain would drag her young granddaughter.  Her venomous green eyes snapped back to Kaida.  “Sit and meditate on your place in this society.  And offer up apologies to the spirits of your forbearers.  Kami know they stir in their graves when you speak such vile filth.”

Footsteps sounded out in the quiet halls as Chiyo retreated from the room, leaving Kaida to sit and stare up at the paintings and the heirlooms.  She tucked her legs under her, sitting on her knees.  Tears still gathered in her lashes, framing her peripherals with starry shimmers.  Her head lowered and she did what she was told.  Unspoken apologies were thought out to the doll-faced paintings and to the kami.  She clutched her hands together at her chest, fingers tugging at the rim of her red and white yukata.   

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

Chapter Text

Golden fields burned under the dying light of the sun, wavering in a wind that brought forth the scent of ash and death.  Ghosts of a draconic roar echoed across the battlefield, carried by the breeze and fading unto an eternity.  The Lunar Bahamut was defeated, body dispersing into violet stardust before dissipating entirely—the stolen and misused aether returning to the planet.  As the remnants of the Telophoroi fled Pagl’than, a calm began to fall over the sunbaked plains.  Kaida lifted her head to look across the field, listening to the retreat of war’s frantic symphony until it, too, was gone.  Blood ran down her cheek, stemming from a cut she had endured from the primal’s claws.  It was a sizeable gash, cut from the base of her horn nearly to the bridge of her nose.  She touched it and winced.

“Here!” a voice called and G’raha was there suddenly, holding out a hand to soothe and mend her wound.

The magic that radiated from his palm was a tender glow that strengthened, yellow-white with tendrils of a soft azure.  The shade reminded her of him but soon enough, its brightness was almost too much for her eyes to bear.  She let her gaze wander to the others—to where Y’shtola was chatting fervently via linkpearl and Alisaie was impatiently pacing, hand slung over her rapier’s hilt.

“It’s quite deep,” G’raha said in concern.  “It may take a bit.”

“Are the others all right?” Kaida asked.

“They seem to fare well enough,” G’raha replied.  “Even if Alisaie did take a few unneeded extra hits…”

“Don’t say that too loudly.  She won’t let you hear the end of it,” Kaida remarked and the corner of the miqo’te lips drew upward into a knowing smile.

“Duly noted,” he said with the playful twitch of his tail.  “I can hear Y’shtola’s conversation from here.  It would appear as though Thancred and the other party made it through the battle relatively unscathed.  Would that I could say the same for you…”

“It’s just a scratch, G’raha,” Kaida said dismissively and his brows furrowed at that.

“And if I do not treat it now, it’ll be a scar,” he tutted at her, expression softening.  “Pagl’than is saved.  Another triumph in the tale of the Warrior of Light…”

There was a reverence in his tone, crimson eyes locking into her clashing green irises then falling down, to her shorter body clad head-to-toe in silver armor.  She wondered if it had sunken in yet—that he was here with her.  The First and everything that had transpired there was quite literally a world away.  The Exarch had done his duty, fulfilling it to the last moment.  And now, G’raha was free to do as his heart had wished for so many long years. 

“Ah…” G’raha paused, lowering his hand for a moment.  “Pardon me…”

“What is it?” Kaida asked.

“This might seem like a strange question but… c-can I touch your face?” he managed out, ears back.

“If… you want,” Kaida said uncertainly and the Seeker’s hands gradually moved to where her wound was partially-mended.

His forefinger and thumb paused just below the cut.  His red ears pressed back and he gave a small nibble onto his lower lip, a sucked in breath softly pulled into his nostrils.  Kaida was concerned about what he was doing for a brief moment—her concern only born from his laser-point focus.  Touching her scales beneath the cut made the area sting but it was an echo of the pain before, largely faded by his magicks.  G’raha’s fingers did not linger there long; he soon drew his hand back and Kaida felt a tiny tug.  It hurt for a brief moment but vanished quickly.  The miqo’te glanced down, flecks of blood at his fingertips and something small trapped under the pressure of his thumb.

“What was that?” Kaida asked, hand moving to the cut.

“You had a scale about to come off,” G’raha said sheepishly, flushed in the face.  “Is this a common occurrence when Au Ra are injured?”

“Oh…” Kaida blinked and G’raha held up the small scale on his thumb.  It gleamed in the sunset like a small diamond when the light struck it just right.  She glanced up to him.  “Yes, actually.  One of the downsides to having them.  Maintaining one’s scales is a job in itself and when you get injured, they can decide to come off.”

“I see,” G’raha said.  “I suppose I’ve never thought much of how your kind must care for themselves.  We miqo’te must seem like we have it so easy…” His voice faded for a moment, a bittersweet smile on his face.  “When Lyna was young, she would have me comb her ears.  I thought it odd at first, not particularly liking mine groomed such a fashion.  But her small feet would thump against the ground as I did it.  She was quite the tiny thing back then…”

He missed her and Kaida knew that.  The world had opened to him but with that new beginning had come a sorrowful end in some ways.  Not all victories were saccharine or melancholy.  Sometimes, they existed in places between.

“She’s doing all right, you know,” Kaida replied gently.  “I saw her the last time I visited Ryne and Gaia.  They’re doing all right.”

“I… I’m glad,” G’raha said, a stiffness in his tone.  And then he smiled in that way he always did.  “But they will all be quite cross with me if they’ve learned I have not healed you fully.  Pray forgive my scattered thoughts.”

His hand lifted to her face once more, healing magicks flowing to the cut.  The soreness was soon alleviated and Kaida looked up at him to thank him.  Yet his expression gave her pause; there was a sadness about him.  His smile did not reach his eyes but dwelled on his lips as a mask to hide how he was really feeling.  Kaida did not need to ask if something was on his mind—she could tell he was enraptured by something, a thought from his past most likely.  She reminded herself that despite his youthful appearance, he had seen over twice the amount of her years.  And most of that time had been spent waiting.

“You’re doing great, you know,” Kaida said to him and that was enough to jerk him from his own brooding thoughts.  “I’m glad you’re with us.”

“T-thank you…” G’raha said in surprise, the fur of his tail slightly floofed out and a sparkle in his gaze.   His hand lowered shortly after, finishing mending her flesh as best as he could.  He gave pause then looked down to his other hand, where her scale still sat on his thumb.  “What would you have me do with this?”

“Keep it, throw it away—I don’t care.  It’s not really a part of me anymore,” Kaida said with the roll of her shoulders.  “My thanks for the healing.”

G’raha looked as though he were going to say something further but their conversation was shortly interrupted by Y’shtola’s approach.  The sorceress’s blind gaze swiveled from G’raha to Kaida, a devious smirk about her lips as she crossed her arms over her breast.  The Warrior of Light could already tell she was about to get not entirely welcomed news.

“All seems to be well across the battlefield; the Telophoroi make their retreat,” Y’shtola said.  “It would seem the Amalj’aa may have a gift for you for saving them.  Another treasure to the trove, I would imagine.”

“From your smirk, I can already tell I’m not going to like what you’re about to say,” Kaida began.

“I hear it’s an outfit.  Crafted in the like of their greatest warriors,” Y’shtola said.

“What?  Don’t they wear only loincloths?  A hilarious jest, Shtola,” Kaida replied and when the sorceress’s smirk only widened, the Raen felt the sun’s warmth a tad bit more than normal.  G’raha audibly cleared his throat, seeming distracted suddenly by the passing clouds.  Kaida swallowed.  “… It’s not a jest, is it?”

“I suppose we shall have to find out,” Y’shtola replied smugly.  “Fear not, I am certain they will not press you to model it for us.  Though I could think of a few who might not mind the sight.”

“Kami preserve,” Kaida breathed, face reddening.

“Come.  Alisaie has gone on ahead to rendezvous with Alphinaud and the others,” Y’shtola said.  “The chieftain and your new prize awaits.”

“Please let this be a jest,” Kaida whined as the four began away, weaving through the strands of waist-high golden grass under a sun that shone on a slightly more hopeful day.

Chapter Text

Footsteps broke otherwise perfectly undisturbed snow, trudging against a freezing wind whose bite seemed to pierce the thick plating of her armor.  Kaida shivered, eyes bleary with tears as the heavens dumped their load of snowflakes and the gale beat against their hunched over bodies.  Ishgard was a distant silhouette, nearly consumed by the fog that had rolled in.  In front of her, Sidurgu marched with his head low and one hand at his forehead to keep his rebellious silver bangs at bay.

Kaida had asked him several times where they were going.  Not once had he replied with an answer that had satisfied her.  Rielle was behind her, donned in a heavy coat but still shivering.  The wind was picking up; a storm would come soon and they could not afford to be caught in it.  But Sidurgu carried on… on and on until Ishgard was long gone behind them, the snow-covered road ahead.  She watched him lead them onward, deviating from the path at a bend that seemed just like all the others on the Coerthan road.  Kaida thought to chide him for it; now was not the time for detours.  But she endured it with clenched teeth—loathing every bit of the eternal winter and longing for the warmth of the Ruby Sea once more.

The walk he led them on was thankfully quite brief, ending just out of sight of the path they had been walking.  A large mound sat before them, not indicated by any marker.  Sidurgu stopped before it for a moment.  His gaze hardened, eyes narrowing at the mound.  And he stood pensively that way for a few long moments before Kaida interrupted.

“We need to get Rielle to town,” she said.  “It’s freezing out here.”

“Just a moment longer,” Sidurgu replied gruffly.

“What is this place?” Kaida asked.

His glance to her was brief and from the corner of his eye.  And then he said, “The Orl tribe.”

“What?” Kaida asked, turning her gaze back to the mound. 

“My tribe,” Sidurgu clarified.  His eyes were baleful, burning in the haze of the storm, and his lip gave a slight curve.  “It’s where they were… left.”

And then she understood, the wind howling through the trees all around them.  The snowfall strengthened until the horizon was devoured by the haze of the storm.  A melancholy took to her heart; this was a mass gravesite, where bodies had been crudely buried together.  Their bones would intermingle over time, left to be forgotten.  Unmarked and remembered only by those who had even known they had existed.  They had been Au Ra, just like her.  Killed because of their horns and scales, labeled Dravanians by the Holy See.  Kaida thought of the first time she had walked through Ishgard’s gates and how Haurchefant had told her to hide her horns and tail out of fear the inquisitors would do something to her.  The Orl tribe had not been unlike her; seeking shelter in Ishgard.  But they had sought sanctuary in a pit full of vipers.  They fled one slaughter just to run into another.  It wasn’t fair, she thought.  Life was too cruel sometimes.  And for no reason, at that.

“I’m sorry,” Kaida said to Sidurgu and he nodded.

“Don’t be.”

And with that, Sidurgu walked away and Kaida watched him go with a swelling sense of sorrow in her heart.   

Chapter Text

A new moon hung over Garlemald, conspiring with bleak slate-hued clouds to create perhaps the darkest night the Black Wolf had ever seen.  Outside one of the palace windows, the sky was a pitch black, interrupted by the artificial lights of Garlemald’s cityscape.  Security detail was a job better fit for the Emperor’s personal guard on an ordinary evening but Gaius van Baelsar knew better.  The night was cursed with whispers of an assassination attempt and his Radiance could not even trust the guards that so dutifully patrolled the corridors.  He had called for his right-hand to return and though Gaius was known as the Wolf across Hydaelyn, he knew his place as the Emperor’s dog.  He was a wolf chained, domesticated.  But that did not temper his bite.

Solus slept in his quarters and a foolish guard would have thought to idly post up at the door leading to it.  Yet Gaius was no fool; the windows were just as easily a point of entry as the door was.  Magitek devices had been set to each window to chime at an intrusion.  Gaius had hand-picked members of his legion to post up at various points in the palace halls, with the threat of immediate discharge if they were to move an ilm from their stations.  The legatus himself was positioned within Solus’s suite, near the door but standing in a way where he could see most of the quarters.  Acting as a sentinel in the Emperor’s chambers was typically a task unheard of.  But Gaius had slit enough throats for the Emperor that Solus trusted him with such an intimate responsibility.  The Wolf did not accept Solus’s favor lightly.  There was a thrill about the task, as menial as it might have seemed to outside eyes.  That the Emperor placed such faith in him moved him in a way that defied words.  And Gaius loved every bit of it.

His Radiance slept in a way that most mortals did, showing a certain vulnerability that reminded Gaius of how even the mightiest men were only men at the end of the day.  A soft rise and fall of his breath made it clear that he had succumbed to a blissful slumber.  And Gaius waited for the appointed hour in which the assassin would come.  A swift bullet to the skull was his preferred method of dispatching would-be traitors.  The Black Wolf made no spectacle of his duty.  He was only remiss it would likely awaken his liege. 

Gaius could not have said what the hour was when he became aware of a strange noise, emitted softly from the Emperor’s bed.  But when he heard it, it was instinct to investigate and so the Black Wolf did.  His armor gave an unsubtle clink, clink, clink with each step, a gauntlet-clad hand reaching for the sleeping Emperor, who was snug under his covers.  Alone but shivering, his brow knitted as though he were pained.  A quiet gasp-yelp fell from his partially agape lips.  At first, Gaius feared a poison of some sort but at the touch of the legatus’s shoulder upon Solus zos Galvus’s bare shoulder, the Emperor awoke.  His yellow eyes snapped wide, gasping once more.  Gaius thought to whip the blankets off of him, to search for a wound.  But then Solus’s hand snagged his wrist and he began to calm down.

“Gaius,” the Emperor said, a drowsy crack in his voice.  His hand released Gaius’s, his chest still giving small heaves. 

“Your Radiance—” Gaius began.

“A nightmare and naught more,” said Solus zos Galvus dismissively.  And Gaius stared at him for a moment beyond his helm, wondering what the most powerful man in all of Hydaelyn could fear.  And then the legatus nodded, drawing back to the Emperor’s bedside.

“Forgive me my intrusion,” Gaius said humbly and the right edge of Solus’s mouth twisted upward in one of his knowing smirks.

“All is forgiven.  Mayhaps I should be the one apologizing to you for giving you such a scare.  It is a poor night to be plagued with ill dreams,” came the Emperor’s typical nonchalant tone.  “Do you have the hour?”

A gander was given to a nearby clock.  “Three in the morning, Your Radiance.”

“How slowly time ticks when waiting,” mused Solus with a languid stretch, rolling onto his side.  The sheet slipped off his shoulders, revealing more of his bared torso, scarred from years of war.  Years from even before the Empire and before Gaius’s own birth.  “Though I should think my appetite for sleep spoiled.  Know you the feeling?”
           
“Yes, my liege.  All too well.”

“Then you will not protest if I opt for conversation instead of rest?  I imagine it is far more interesting to you than watching me sleep,” Solus asked with the quirk of his brow, as if Gaius were in any position to lecture him on anything.  “I thought not.  Good.  Bear your thoughts to me, legatus.  What do you think of Varis?”

“He is yet young but he will grow into someone worthy of the Galvus name.  Perhaps even the throne, if that is your wish,” Gaius said simply and Solus’s smirk widened.

“Your true thoughts, legatus.  I would hear them.”

Gaius did not like feeling so transparent but he acquiesced, head lowering.  “He is a man that burns, Your Radiance.  A man full of anger.”

“He hates me,” Solus said bluntly but lightly.  “But he loves Garlemald.  Tell me; do you think love for one’s country is all that one needs to be a ruler worthy of the throne?”

“No,” Gaius answered at once.  “One must bear many qualities-- qualities not often found in the hearts of man.”

Solus looked thoughtful at that, resting his chin onto his palm. 

“Your Radiance,” Gaius began uncertainly.  “Do you mean to name Lord Varis as your heir?”

A laugh was given at that.  “No.  No, I was just curious for your thoughts.  Varis is scarcely more than my son’s ghost staring back at me.”

It was harsh, the way the Emperor spoke of his grandson.  But Gaius would not chide him; he bore the weight of the world upon his shoulders, their own mortal Atlas endeavoring to stave off the world’s demise from the blight of the eikons.  Naming an heir was an uneasy task.  Whoever donned the mantle of the Emperor would be forced to take up their predecessor’s noble quest.

“I will pass before you,” Solus said to him.  “Such is the way of things.  Life is but a mortal instant.  You will be there, I trust, to see the Empire flourish while I am buried into the cold ground?  You will protect whomever should take the throne after I am gone?”

“Of course,” Gaius replied with the dip of his head.  “Until my final breath, Your Radiance.”

“A saccharine notion, legatus.  Saccharine indeed,” Solus yawned.

The Emperor stretched and Gaius cast a gander about the room, reminding himself of his duty.  There were no signs of the assassin—not yet at least.  But many hours remained on that dark night and Gaius could not afford to slack in the slightest. 

“Gaius,” Solus said, a somberness about his tone.  The legatus looked to him, a contemplative albeit bitter expression on the Emperor’s face.  “Should I fall asleep and have another fit… you will not hesitate to wake me.  That is an order.”

Gaius’s mind swam with thoughts on the subject.  There was a haggardness about Solus’s face; his mouth curled as though he had bit into a lemon and the amber of his eyes brooded with anger.  What nightmares had he seen in his dreams?  Was it a reflection of the past?  Or his fears mounting against him?  The legatus once more did not ask; it was not his place.  Instead, he gave a bow.

“Understood, Your Radiance.”

Chapter Text

The sound of Nijimizu-dera being invaded was jarring, disturbing the serene silence that so often plagued the temple halls.  There was a terrible banging noise, sharp and sudden, echoing throughout the building.  She stayed on her knees before the shrine, heart lurching as her green eyes fell on the gilded blade that rested before her, sheathed into a stone tablet.  It was her charge, this blade of old.  The High Priestess had told her to guard the temple but to rest back until the Imperials had made it to the deepest sectors of their sanctuary.  And though Kaida Asagiri was not good at following orders, she knew better than to disobey this one.  It was hard to stay still, listening to the screams of the guard as they met the intruders in combat.  Kaida inhaled deeply through her nose, lowering her head.  She had been praying for hours but no answer had come.  If the kami were watching, they had abandoned them.

Roars of fire and more banging noises sent a fear creeping across her skin.  It was growing closer.  She rose from the ground, fringes of her silken kimono gently scraping against the wood floor as she began to climb the stairs towards the golden blade.  Kaida hesitated for a moment, looking back towards the ornate doors leading into the shrine room.  Their snarling faces of tigers would not hold the Black Wolf back.  There was nothing that could hold him back.

She stood in front of the blade, looking down at it as though it were a coiled snake poised to bite her.  A single touch is what the High Priestess said.  A single touch and she could give herself to the kami.  She could let their power into her.  She could become their avatar.  Would it be enough to save her village?  No.  There was no force that could stop the burning now.  But would it be enough to hold off the enemy while the High Priestess fled?  Perhaps.  All Kaida knew was that she was a lamb to be sacrificed and the pyre was before her.  

When the tiger-covered doors were blown away, Kaida knew the time had come.  But curiosity had her look back over her shoulder, where the dreaded Wolf made his appearance.  Each step sounded out with dread, metal clanking against metal.  The armor he wore demonized him; the horns at either sides of his head reminded her of an oni.  His lengthy sword was in hand, dripping blood all over their sacred floors.  He panted loudly, his mask muffling part of the sound, yet his stride oozed with confidence.  A flick of his wrist and droplets flung onto the walls.  She could sense his eyes on her.  His feet made a rhythmic tap, tap, tap… and then he stopped.  Watching.  Waiting.  Kaida stared down at him, wondering what monster rested behind the mask.  She prayed she never found out. 

For a long moment in time, they stared each other down.  The shouts of war behind them seemed drowned out by the tension.  Kaida waited for him to say something.  He did not.  And as she saw him begin to step forward again, she whipped around, hand gripping the kami-blessed blade’s hilt with a plea on her breath.

Save us… save us…

Chapter Text

It was another sunny day in Terncliff and Cid Garlond would have been remiss to spend all of it indoors.  He had not given himself many breaks in the last few days; one of his biggest flaws was pushing himself too hard.  It came with the territory of his surname—Garlond invoked certain notions and he had a reputation to uphold.  Last-minute adjustments to the G-Savior had been his latest mission.  It was all coming along buttery smooth—for the moment, until something else inevitably came up, be it an intern tripping over some important wires or someone spilling coffee in the cockpit again.

Cid permitted himself an hour or two of rest and sought out sanctuary just outside of the hanger.  It was a balcony that overlooked Terncliff’s craggy beach.  The tide was at its lowest, the wet sand glistening under the late afternoon sun.  A white stone wall stood up to his waist in height and he leaned his elbows against it, looking out across the scenic view.  Had there not been an ever-growing pile of work for him to do, he would have contemplated settling down at such a vista.  Perhaps even moving the entire company, too.  But the Ironworks was not unlimited in funds and Terncliff was not an easy trek from Mor Dhona.  As nice as it would have been to relocate, he knew it was not in the cards.  It could not be, especially with brewing trouble all over the world.  If Cid knew one thing, it was that as soon as peril made its presence known, the Scions bee-lined for it.  It was inevitable that the Garlond Ironworks would be called in to assist.

Movement caught his eye below him, on one of the tiered paths also overlooking the beach.  Cid glanced down to see Gaius walking along it.  Purposefully, at that, roaming the length of a sidewalk before coming to a halt.  He seemed oblivious of Cid’s presence just several yalms above him, looking out across the beach.  Cid’s eyes followed Gaius’s trajectory to where Kaida could be spotted.  She was donned in her silver armor, boots dipping into the sand.  The vivid blaze of her cyan blade flashed through the air as she practiced swinging it about.  Her movements were concise and that was impressive to him, particularly considering that her sword seemed almost as big as she was. 

“He’s watching her again, isn’t he?” said Nero, announcing his arrival.  His back went to the railing, slouching against it with his ankles crossed.  A bottle of water was palmed in one of his hands and he sipped it knowingly.

“Yes,” Cid answered.

“Some things scarcely change,” Nero remarked and Cid shot him a side-eye.  “You should have seen him every time I read aloud a report about her exploits.  He could scarcely contain himself.  It was adorable, really.  The Wolf made into an excitable pup.”

“What are you going on about?” Cid said tiredly and received a crooked, smug grin in return.

“He fancies her,” Nero clarified and Cid’s head swung in his direction in alarm.

“A poor jest,” Cid retorted at once.

“If it is a jest then I make for a poor jester,” Nero said, the icy violet-blue of his irises peering over his sunglasses at his steadily riling boss.  Or, rather, “boss”.  Cid was not sure there was a force on Hydaelyn that could have tamed Nero—not truly, at the least.

“Tch,” Cid scowled at him, feeling as though his reprieve from his duties had been soiled.  Yet for all of his struggling to reason through Gaius’s behavior, he found that he had no answer.  It bothered him, not being able to wipe away the ever-widening grin winding its way across Nero’s face.

“You cannot refute it, then?” Nero inquired lightly.

“It could be a coincidence and I hardly think you to be the master of such a subject,” Cid grunted and Nero put a hand to his chest in mock offense.

“You wound me, Garlond.”

“Aye, if only it were enough to get you out of my hair finally.”

“And now I’ve caught you in a lie; if you had been so averse to my presence, you would not have called me here.”

“A man is allowed to make poor choices.”

Nero’s head tilted back with a laugh and Cid grabbed his forearm, pulling him away from the railing.  Gaius would no doubt have heard that and Cid had found himself intrigued by Nero’s hypothesis.  Was Gaius really that infatuated by Kaida?  Was that even possible, with their convoluted history?  Cid was not sure but Nero had planted the seed in his mind. 

“And now we’re stalking the Wolf?” Nero whispered as he staggered back.  His grin was unmoving and Cid hated how it taunted him.

“I’ll admit my curiosity,” Cid huffed.  “But I don’t particularly believe it.”

“And why is that?” Nero asked.  “Surely you are aware the Wolf has his proclivities--”

“I would rather not be aware, if that is not too much to ask,” Cid cut him off.

“If I am correct-- which I am certain that I am-- what will you do?” Nero asked.  “The Black Wolf and a Warrior of Light.  Oh, I can already hear the masses screaming in horror.”

Cid thought about it for a moment, chewing the thought.  Gaius and Kaida.  Gaius and Kaida… it was a strange match.  She was so flighty, so fretful over even the smallest detail.  And she seemed so innocent, like a doe in the forest.  Gaius was… none of those things.  A straightforward man that spared not a moment to dance around his feelings.  A man that saw what he wanted and went for it.  And yet, when Cid peered back over the railing to look down at the man who had half-raised him, he could sense… a certain manner of restraint.  Cid had never known him to hold back once in his life.  It made him wonder if perhaps Gaius thought better of approaching her.  Perhaps old dogs could learn new tricks… 

Years ago, Cid might have warned her to stay away from him.  But things had changed.  And Cid knew it was not his place to interfere.

“Nothing.  I would do nothing,” Cid said after some thought and Nero nodded.  “They deserve an onze of privacy.”

“Which we are presently not giving to them,” Nero pointed out.

“If it’s true,” Cid pointed an accusing finger at Nero.  “Neither of us should say anything.”

“Oh, and who would I tell?” Nero asked with the roll of his shoulders and Cid’s eyes narrowed.  “Again, you wound me, Garlond.”

“Tch.  Either way, if this winds up on Lilja’s radar, all of Eorzea will know,” Cid replied.  “And that could complicate things between the Scions and the Alliance.”

“Right, right.”

“Back to the hanger,” Cid said as he turned to go.  “We’ve spent enough time out here gossiping like schoolgirls.”

Two steps were taken then Cid looked back out across the sands.  The wind ruffled through his hair, the lull of the waves creating a contemplative ambience.  Kaida and Gaius… that was certainly something he had never anticipated.  He made his retreat back to his duties, giving a thoughtful tug to his beard.

Chapter Text

The Baelsar manor was deathly silent when Cassius came through the front door, a telltale sign that something was amiss.  He paused as he hung up his winter coat on the nearby rack, listening to how even the servants had seemingly vanished from the grounds.  A frown momentarily creased his thin lips then he made for the stairs.  It was odd that the manor was so quiet but not unheard of.  Lord Baelsar had a tendency to grant days off to the waitstaff if the weather was to turn sour.  But Cassius was not sure he had noticed a gathering of storms while he was out visiting his mother.

He found his way to the master bedroom, anticipating fully to find it empty.  He was mistaken.

Gaius lay on the bed, stripped of all his clothing and legs splayed out.  His cock was a rigid rod in his hand, head engorged with fiery want.  The foreskin was partially pulled down, exposing the upper half of his shaft.  His other hand was gripping handfuls of his own hair, clawing it back to expose his forehead.  Cassius had seen his lord in the throes of wanton lust before but this was different.  It was not a sight he minded; not at the least.  And beholding Gaius like that made him feel a warm flush take to his neck.  

Cassius nudged the door shut with his heel, certain that his lord would not have appreciated any prying eyes falling upon him in such a state.  A few cautious steps were taken towards the bed, his pale blue eyes skirting from the Black Wolf to a liquid-filled bottle resting at the bedside.  He identified the concoction as an aphrodisiac almost immediately—a stronger sort, usually bought by those trying to conceive… or fuck ruthlessly until their bodies gave out from exhaustion.  Cassius was familiar with the idea; he had been brought to enough orgies in his lifetime, especially when he had worked as an escort.  Aphrodisiacs could be dangerous but rutting in the blissful buzz of them was a delightful sensation.  One that Lord Baelsar appeared to be in the midst of.  

“Cassius…” swallowed Gaius, beads of sweat collected on his brow. 

“How much did you take?” Cassius inquired in a nonchalant tone, wandering to the bedside table and looking over the bottle curiously. 

“E-enough,” came the reply with a quivering, needy voice. 

“Twice the recommended amount, it would seem,” Cassius remarked.  “I’m half surprised you didn’t come as soon as I walked through the door.”

“An unfunny jest—” Gaius began, voice strained.

“Did you send the waitstaff away out of shame?” Cassius teased with a wicked grin.

“M-mayhaps,” grunted his lord.  “I did not want them to hear anything.”

“Is that so?  I heard naught coming in…” Cassius mused, eyes skirting to where he was gently stroking himself.

The cock gave a twitch, already close to its peak.  He thought to send the Wolf over with a forceful tug, dragging his fingers down the underside of the shaft all the way to the balls.  But Cassius liked him like this—vulnerable and defenseless.  It was hard not to look at him without getting hard and he felt his cock start to rise in need.  A sly gander was given to the alchemical bottle.  There was enough for another person and he was not so cruel as to leave Gaius wanting. 

“Well, I suppose we had better fuck it out of you.  It’s the best way to rid a Wolf of their heat, I hear,” Cassius continued lightly, uncorking the bottle and lifting it to his lips.  A swirl of his wrist made the contents stir, the chemical smell wafting to his nose. 

His stray hand coursed over the inside of Gaius’s thigh, daring to caress his balls.  Yet his fingers pulled away at the final second—a torture that made Gaius’s hips thrust upward with a small whimper.  Cassius’s mouth drew into a smirk, knowing how badly his lover wanted to be touched.  How badly his lover wanted to spill his seed with reckless abandon. 

A small sip was given of the alchemical concoction—enough that Cassius hoped he would be able to survive whatever fucking was about to ensue.  He began to strip off his sweater, tossing it carelessly to the ground.  Gaius’s eyes widened, awestruck as his paramore’s pants came off next—undergarments as well.  His cock sprang out, half-hardened but stiffening faster by the second.  A few gentle tugs and he could feel himself grow rigid.  Gaius continued to stroke himself as Cassius joined him on the bed, straddling him.  His hand took Gaius’s place, bringing their tips together.  He positioned his head to rub the underside of the other, a pleasurable feeling that made Gaius sink into his pillow.  Teeth scraped against the pillowcase, his lord’s hips continuing their needy rolls as Cassius nuzzled their cocks together, trapped in the warmth of his palm.

Years of practice had made his hands deft enough to manage pleasuring the two of them.  It was an art form, Cassius thought to himself as his hands expertly worked both needy shafts.  A small squeeze was given, precum dripping from the tip in spades.  It twitched involtunarily and a hitch in his lover’s breath told him he was close.  Cassius forced him over with a few powerful strokes, fixating his head upon the sweet spot just beneath Gaius’s tip.  His lord succumbed with a bestial cry, digging his hands into the pillow under his head, gripping handfuls of the cushion.  His seed shot upward before cascading down onto his cock, dribbling down into the dark hairs of his balls as his body clenched with ecstasy-driven spasms. 

When he had finished spilling onto himself, Gaius took a few moments to pant.  Cassius removed himself from his lord’s lap and began to rummage about the bedside table.  There were a variety of toys kept nearby but that was not his quarry; the heat would continue after a few minutes of cooldown and Cassius had to be ready.  The bottle of oil was found and he pulled it out as Gaius recovered with deep gasps and a steadily softening shaft. 

“Now, my lord,” Cassius said, leaning over Gaius.  “What is your desire?”

Gaius’s hand worked his length, milking out the last droplets.  A tired sigh and he laid his head back, looking content for the moment.  His command came from weary lips.

“Your cock.”

“I… am afraid you may have to specify—”

“Fuck me with it.”

The bluntness was enough to make even Cassius’s eyes widen.  It had grown warm in the room, so warm that he was tempted to open a window to let in the winter chill.  But Cassius refrained, giving Gaius a small nod of confirmation.  This was a rarity—being told to mate the Wolf.  He did not let himself get mounted often.  Cassius was distinctly aware it was something emotional—something to do with a past lover, perhaps.  He had never pried.  But each time the subject was broached, Gaius had a look on his face that spoke of past melancholies. 

“As you wish,” Cassius said, taking the oil bottle into hand.

His fingers were the first thing he attended to, dousing them in oil and coating them to the final knuckle.  His knee gently nudged open Gaius’s legs as he basked in the afterglow of his own climax.  Cassius’s fingers slid between the curves his cheeks, prepping his hole with a gentle intrusion.  Gaius’s expression shifted, displaying telltale signs of discomfort before relaxing.  The Black Wolf was always tense, complaining of muscle aches often when he returned from military campaigns.  His hole was no different, gradually yielding to Cassius’s fingers.  He eased in more, past the first knuckle and to the next.  Gaius’s breath stopped for a moment, a whine fringing his exhale.  He laid his head back, spine giving an arch as his lover dutifully prepared him.  It was not long before his cock had begun to stiffen again, propelled by the alchemical drug.  Cassius began to stroke himself with his free hand, the first vestiges of the drug seeping through him, centering at his balls.  They felt tighter, begging to be emptied.  The thought of relieving that need in his lord’s priming hole made his cock twitch and he gave it small rub, letting the softness of his hands tickle its underside.  One hand pleasured himself, the other continued prepping his lord, nudging around the wall near the prostate.  A few teases and he heard Gaius’s inhales intensify. 

When he was readied, Cassius oiled then lined himself up.  Simple missionary felt ill-fitting for the moment but he was eager and Gaius’s heat was starting to make its return.  A cautious press and Cassius felt his head slip inside.  Gaius grunted at the pressure, toying with his hard cock as his lover penetrated him.  Feeling himself sink into the wetness, Cassius felt an insuppressible moan waft from his lips.  Gentle thrusts and the Black Wolf seemed to lean into the feeling, working himself as Cassius’s hips rolled lovingly.  The sensation of pleasuring himself met with the sensation of the aphrodisiac, enrapturing Cassius’s mind in a lustful haze.  It was hard not to drive into his liege too quickly.  His body began to shift from yearning for release to demanding it.  Nibbling his lower lip, he sheathed himself in Gaius, head tilting back from the ecstasy.

The next thrust hit Gaius’s prostate and the only way Cassius knew that in his fit of desire was that the Wolf made a noise akin to a yelp.  A free hand gripped the pillow under his head, clawing it with the next hit—enough to make him whimper like a begging cur.  A third hit and Cassius saw a bloom of clear precum form at his tip, cascading down.  Gaius’s breathing dissolved into an unsteady rhythm and his paramour continued the unyielding fucking until he felt himself near his climax, a build of pressure and lust that was too strong for him to hold back.  The final thrust hit the prostate again and Gaius cried out pleasurably—the noise driving Cassius mad enough to lose himself.  His cock spurted with seed in violent spasms.  One hand went to Gaius’s hip, the other labored to hold himself upright as Gaius found his second climax with a gasp.  A few seconds passed, driven by the euphoria of coming, and then Cassius all but collapsed.  His head rested against Gaius’s chest, listening to the thrumming of his heartbeat.

They like that for some time until Cassius stirred, withdrawing himself and glancing over at where Gaius lounged on the pillows—freshly fucked and yet glowering holes through his lover.  That hunger in his eyes threatened to send a thrilled shiver down Cassius’s spine.  The heat was not over yet and judging from how the sky was starting to darken, Cassius realized it was quite likely they would be doing this for the better part of the night.  It scared him a little, thinking of the Wolf’s appetite and how it seemed utterly insatiable.  But he cherished the feeling, sitting back with his legs partially splayed.  His spent cock flopped to the side.

“Sated yet?” Cassius taunted Gaius, though he full well knew the answer.

The corner of Gaius’s mouth flickered with a smile.  His response came in a hand around Cassius’s throat, lips colliding into his hungrily.  They kissed as they fell back into the sheets, the Wolf evidently finding his bite back.  Teeth grazed against Cassius’s skin, eliciting a soft moan.

“Are you?” Gaius growled into his ear.

Cassius swallowed, feeling Gaius’s dirtied fingers trace lightly over his nape and to the back of his head.  They gripped handfuls of the blond’s hair, tugging in need. 

“Never, my lord,” came a breathless whisper before their lips met again and both men sank into the sheets, taken by the depths of their lust.

Chapter Text

He sat under the gentle ripple of the sea, a cityscape at his feet.  His legs dangled over the edge, swinging with a lackadaisical hum brewing in the depths of his throat.  Placid, glassy yellow eyes cast out over his domain—a king over a kingdom and a mourner in front of a grave.  His diorama had been nearly perfected over the long eternity since the Sundering.  It was, however, yet missing a vital element, one that birthed the breath of life into the simulation.  Yet Hades labored back and forth on if that final piece was possible to craft.  Even sorcerers of eld had their limits, though few and far in between.  Yet he had thought to try his hand at it nearly every day since he had begun weaving together the fake Amaurot.  Inevitably, his mind came to the conclusion that the attempt was too painful.  But on that sentimental day, Hades was drunk off his sorrow and he lifted a hand to begin his work. 

Crafting the shade’s basics took little effort; it was the details that troubled him.  How long had it been since the last time he had seen her face?  He prayed he had not forgotten how she looked and he feared that he had.  Her face was slender, graced with high cheekbones.  There was a sparkle in her eyes—like the sun in intensity but the stars in cunning.  Her hair was always kept long and half-down, permitted to toss about in the wind.  Its natural hue had been white but she had never kept it that way, glamouring it with an array of colors.  She had never liked bending to the norm.  When the hair was crafted, he turned it into a turquoise ombré —it had been her favorite color, after all. 

When it was all said and done, he looked up at what he had made, a mixture of emotions rising through him.  Donned in her Convocation robes and semi-transparent, she looked as lifeless as all the others.  Her face stared ahead into the nothingness.  He tried to make edits—tweaking the mouth slightly into a smile but there was a hollowness about it.  No, no, it was not right.  It would never be right.  Nothing could restore what was lost, nothing could grant the spark of life into these dolls.  Frustrated, Hades rose from his perch, looking away.  A merciless hand batted the image away then went to his forehead, giving it a miserable rub as he thought of her.  A part of him felt guilty for dispersing her image into the wind.  Another part of him knew it did not matter.  At the end of it all, simulacrums were only simulacrums.  The real Azem had been gone for eons now. 

Hades found his willpower start to drain, giving way to grief as he glared down upon the city he had so nostalgically made.  His resolve turned to ash and he pondered the meaning of it all.  So tirelessly, they had worked for so long on a task that felt endless.  It exhausted him to his core, these feelings trapped within since the dawn of the new broken era.  Yet through the depths of his weariness sparked a light.  A beacon that beckoned his heart to still beat, that inspired his feet to still move.  He knew its nature; he did not deny it.  But neither did he acknowledge it.  It was enough to keep him moving forward through the dragging years where his anguish felt timeless, a permeated part of his unsundered soul.  And he was grateful for it, even if at the end of it all, Hades was exhausted, he was so utterly exhausted…

He gave his crafted Amaurot another look before snapping his fingers.  A gate to the Rift opened behind him and he walked to it, hesitating before the wavering maw.  Once, they had stood on these skyscrapers together—he and Azem.  He had chided her for her antics; so often had she amused herself with pranks and tomfoolery and he had been forced to shield her from accusations.  Hades had once thought playing damage control for her the most troublesome of tasks.  Yet now, such trivial moments were something he longed for.  Banter in the streets, sighs, and laughs.  How he had taken those noises for granted once.  How he would never do so again, when this nightmare had ended.

But until then, there was work to be done.  And so Hades left his plaything to its programmed devices, pondering over how the world had taught him that even the mightiest kingdom was an ephemeral thing.  

Chapter Text

The Forgotten Knight was a bustling joint every night and that particular night was no different.   Estinien did not consider himself a frequenter of such establishments but his tongue longed for the burn of alcohol.  He had found a table at the back of the bar, his back to the wall and his eyes surveying the scene around him.  A bottle had been ordered—enough to send him into a relaxed fog of tipsiness if he portioned it out just right.  It was a luscious red-violet hue and he drank from the bottle’s glassy lips.  Uncouth but he had never cared for manners.  Better to sip from the bottle than bother dirtying a glass, he figured.

Yet for Estinien’s efforts at staving off drunkenness, he found himself quickly fighting a losing battle.  Perhaps the taste of alcohol held a burn in it that he enjoyed too much, a bit like dragonfire, stoking up pieces of memories from a time he would have rather forgotten.  But a part of him yearned for the heat to churn in the back of his throat and so he indulged, the heady liquor poisoning him faster than he realized.  When he stood to leave, it nearly swept him off his feet.  But Estinien fought through it with gritted teeth, flushed in the cheeks from the alcohol and embarrassment both.  His wobbly step barely managed to carry him up the stairs from the Forgotten Knight and onto the cold Ishgardian street.  The chill sobered him up by a mere ilm.  He hoped a walk would help.

It did not.  That became clear as he picked his way through an alley.  The alcohol gave him vertigo and the dragoon swayed, catching himself with a forearm on a wall.  He panted, trying to see through the delirium, watching the way the cold shades of Ishgard blurred together like a painting.  His concentration was directed solely to staying upright and Estinien was unaware he was being approached until a hand went to his upper arm.  Had he been sober, he might have spun around, catching the wrist of the intruder.  But drunk Estinien was far less dexterous and he managed to snag only air before almost tumbling over.  He was caught by the collar, then stabilized with an arm hugging around his shoulder.

“By the Fury…” came a surprised voice and the dragoon’s eyes turned to see Aymeric’s fair features.  His nose gave a slight crinkle as he braced Estinien, doing his best to keep him from the ground.  “I dare say the alcohol on your breath is enough to make even a grown man lightheaded.”

Estinien’s accusing gaze was full of spite but he permitted himself to be half-carried by the Lord Commander.  It was not as though his intoxicated limbs could manage on their own clearly.  He had flown too close to the sun and had gotten burned.

“Whaddya doin’ here?” came Estinien inquiry to Aymeric as they made their way down the cramped alley, words slurring together and marred with a slowness.

“I was on a walk and saw a familiar figure stumble into an alley,” Aymeric said calmly.  “And thought to pursue.  At first I thought you had eaten something that disagreed with you.  Tis not like you to indulge.  Might I ask what—”

“No,” Estinien cut him off vehemently.

Aymeric paused, baby blue eyes looking him up and down.  And then he gave a considerate nod.  “Very well.  Would you allow me to take you to my quarters, then?  Until you’ve recovered, of course.”

“Ifya must,” Estinien said, tongue thick with saliva and throat still burning in that slightly familiar way.  His drunkenness made it difficult to tap into those feelings—vestiges from his possession.  He supposed most would have wanted to shy away from all of that.  But Estinien wanted nothing more but to lean into the feelings.  To embrace the familiarity.  It tugged at his heart in ways he could not put into words.

Aymeric’s quarters were fortunately not far from the Forgotten Knight.  Or if they were, the miserable walk was lost in his fog of inebriation.  Before long, the dragoon found himself on a bed.  He felt hot, sweat at the roots of his silver hair and threatening to form droplets.  Aymeric left and returned with a cold rag, pulling up a chair next to where the dragoon lay.  He brushed Estinien’s hair back with his fingers then set the rag atop his forehead.  A few tender caresses of it mopped away his growing sweat.

“’m notta child, ‘meric,” Estinien grumbled, batting at him clumsily.  The Lord Commander was unimpressed by the attempt but continued to give him a patient smile.

“I am well aware of that.  Yet you are unwell, Estinien, and I would be a poor friend to let you suffer alone,” Aymeric replied.

“’m fine,” Estinien protested.

“You’re sweating like a sinner before the Fury’s gaze,” Aymeric pointed out.

“’s blasted hot ‘n here,” Estinien complained.

“Would you prefer that I open a window?”

“No.”

“Must you be so difficult?”

“Yes.”

Aymeric sighed, sitting back with the slight shake of his head.  “Pray tell me what has you in such a foul mood.”

Estinien stared at the ceiling, the dampness of the rag doing wonders to stave off the warmth in his head.  Water droplets rolled down his temples, staining the pillow.  The dragoon’s eyes flitted to Aymeric for a moment, noticing how the Lord Commander did not seem to waver in his vision.  The intoxication was wearing off and soon would come the more unpleasant effects.  His gaze returned back to the ceiling, looking at the stones and the grooves between them.

He felt like a madman when he thought of confessing to Aymeric of the strange wants his body craved since his possession.  When he heard the roar of dragons, he almost understood their meanings.  When he tasted the fire of liquor, it reminded him of a body that he almost felt like he owned once.  When he took a chocobo into the sky, he felt a longing in his soul for wings of his own, feeling at where they would have sprouted from his back.  It felt like the heresy he had grown up hearing about. 

“’m a fool,” grumbled Estinien, rolling over onto his side and letting the rag drop onto his nose.  His back was to the Lord Commander but he heard a small sigh from him. 

“At the end of the day, I fear we are all fools, Estinien,” Aymeric said softly.  “Yet you must not chide yourself so.  You are not the first to drink more than he ought to.  And I dare say you will not be the last either.”

He heard Aymeric rise and snuck a peek at him from over his shoulder, watching him walk towards the hall.

“Where’re you goin’?” Estinien asked.

“Fetching a bucket,” came the light reply over his shoulder.  Estinien frowned.  A bucket?  And then he realized what it would be for.  The hangover—the inevitable hangover.

Aymeric returned and slid it next to the bed.  Estinien glanced at it apprehensively before looking back to the Lord Commander. 

“Rest,” Aymeric encouraged.  “I shall be here if you need me.”

Estinien wanted to be mad at that.  He wanted to be mad at a lot of things.  The time lost in Nidhogg.  The fact that their world seemed turned upside-down since the Dragonsong War had ended.  The years of bloodshed that seemed all for nothing at the end.  Ysayle meeting such an unfair fate.  The fact that his damn feelings had led him to such a pitiful state.  He rolled back over, looking at the wall ahead of him moodily.  Perhaps it was the comfort of the bed that banished his sourness, but soon enough he felt the world-weariness in his chest fade.  His cheek nuzzled into the pillow a bit more, letting his body sink into the mattress.  Gradually, his eyes began to flutter closed.

“Aymeric.”

“Yes?”

“… My thanks.”

Chapter Text

“Another boring meeting, Warrior of Light?” came Gaius Baelsar’s inquiry as she walked into the inn room, tossing him a tired look before kicking the door shut behind her.  Still donned in a dressy overcoat and stark white breeches, she flopped onto the bed.  Face-first, head landing at the midway point on the mattress.  Her feet managed to work her knee-high boots onto the ground.

“How could you guess?” asked Kaida, words muffled by the sheets.  His humored chuckle did not escape her from where he sat at a small table near the window.  A soft pat signaled he had put the novel he had been reading down, the metallic sound of his glasses on the table soon following.

“You have come through that door three days in a row with the same expression.  I am almost too scared to ask what they are discussing,” Gaius remarked softly, moving to her side.  She felt him sit next to her, a tender hand on her back.  Its stroke was long, from between her shoulder blades to her waist. 

Kaida scowled into the sheets.  “Just more inane things.  Politics keeping people from helping each other.  Sometimes, I feel as though people are too caught up in themselves that they fail to see a bigger world around them.  To them, everything is about taking while giving little in return.  A unity forged of falsehoods with little regard to—”

When it came out of her mouth, she froze, as if time itself had paused her in that single moment.  She felt her face redden, head moving slightly to glare up at him.  There was a brief hope he had missed the reference but the way he was trying not to smile told her that the slip had not gone unnoticed.    

“Do not—” Kaida began sharply.

“I shan’t,” Gaius’s smirk was directed at the wall.

“I’ve been around you too long, Wolf,” Kaida continued, his hand petting over her back.  “Some might say that is a bad thing.”

“Many would,” Gaius considered aloud.  “Though I think you’ve well established that you don’t care for their opinions.”

“Correct and incorrect,” Kaida replied.  “I don’t want to deal with them being disappointed in me.”

“Have you ever considered that they have no right to feel disappointed in you?” Gaius began and Kaida cut him off.

“You sound like Fray.”

“… Fray?”

She paused.  Oh kami, she realized that she hadn’t thought about telling him about Fray.  And she was not sure she wanted to, especially when she was already so mentally worn.  The last thing she needed was her boyfriend to think she had gotten a few screws knocked loose.  Boyfriend.  By the fucking kami, Gaius Baelsar was her boyfriend.  She turned her head and buried her face back again, vexed, blushing, and exhausted all at the same time. 

“… Just an old friend of mine.  Can we… ah…” Kaida fumbled.  “… Can you hold me?”

His chuckle was like rolling thunder over a mountain.  She savored the sound of it as he sprawled out next to her, head propped up with a hand and amber eyes glittering.  A protective arm found her midsection, pulling her into his body heat.  Once, she might have taken an hour to ask for such affection, stumbling through her words in an attempt to plea for comfort.  But things had changed.  She had changed.  Some days, she feared she had changed for the worse—though Kaida supposed that was merely a matter of opinion.  All she knew for certain was that his warmth told her that she was exactly where she needed to be.

Chapter Text

Click… click… click…

Mechanical cogs whirred and the rush of exhaust filled one of the fortress’s many halls.  White steam wafted across the floors, ankle-height.  It did not disturb the machinery as it worked, noises pulsing into the silence like an artificial heartbeat.  It was cold in the Hinterlands and that chill found its way into Alexander’s colossal, metal body.  The denizens of the steel-made fortress did not mind it, clad heavily in their jackets and bulky masks.  They ran about its corridors like blood through veins; yet Alexander did not care.  They had their machinations, as malicious as they were, and Alexander had its own devices.

“Twenty-two sectors tested,” chimed one system to another through the wiring that circuited its gargantuan form.  “All sectors cleared of anomalous presences.”

If a machine could feel relief, it would have then.  Time was, hilariously, of the essence when it came to such things—something that ought to have seemed like a triviality to a veritable god of time.  Yet with Shanoa deployed, the robot knew that the cogs had been set in motion.  The doomsday clock felt less intimidating at the moment—as much as a robot could feel anything.  Its thoughts, a cluster of calculation and processes, rummaged about its systems, sifting through the diagnostics as they all came up clear.  A secondary search and Alexander realized there was a message left behind, unsent to whomever it belonged to.  More clicks and thought.  Origin: Core.  Source: ???  It opted to scan the message and send.

“Incomplete transmissions detected… auto-sending… Seven, two, three, two, three… sending… sending…”

“I am waiting for you.”

A voice from the depths of the core, defying the machine and the primal’s pull.  An anomaly.  But Alexander did not correct it.  This was a necessity; that voice from the deep.  A pull to the ones who could save them all. 

Chapter Text

There were muffled voices around him, lost to the haze of distance… even if they were not that far away.  The sight of the Ala Mhigan dining hall became an orange-tan blur.  He did not feel the landing of slipping from his chair nor the goblet that clattered to the ground next to him, its mulberry contents spilling and making a mess of the ornate tile underfoot.  The voices talked in an unorganized chorus.  Some rose like distance shrieks.  Others barked out sternly.  Gaius van Baelsar fought to decipher them, his mind slowly sinking into the foggy throes of something that felt most unnatural.

The lights overhead bled into the orange-tan of the walls, into the fabrics of reality, carrying a shimmer about the air like deep mist.  In the lights, he saw things—the visages of skulls and torn banners streaming in a stale wind.  His fingertips pressed into the grooves of the tiles desperately, trying to find it in him to rise.  He could not, his strength sapped. 

Something grabbed a hold of him, fingers like hooks in his doublet, trying to pull him from the floor.  Gaius let them, feeling akin to a child’s doll.  Cat’s eyes at first, fluctuating with his warped vision.  His hand struggled to lift and grip onto the assailant before a better part of him realized who she was. 

Livia’s silver mane was braided, draped over the side of her shoulder.  Her face, fair in its features, looked porcelain.  She was screaming, grabbing onto him.  Angered and desperate, yelling at him then yelling at something over her shoulder.  When she looked back at him, her face had changed.  When her mouth opened, he could see rows of teeth lining their insides, uncanny as a beast.  Her lips warped, peeling back into her gums.  The wild strands of her hair turned to spiny bristles, falling from the braid and framing her angled cheekbones.  Her pupils and irises were devoured by the whites of her eyes, turning them a milky hue.  Her fingers in his clothing became barbs and Gaius felt a fear in him that he had not felt since he was a child. 

Monster.  She was a monster.

He tried to pull away from her.   Her jaws clacked at him in questioning, nonverbal and chastising.  His hand sought Heirsbane but it was in another room.  The one time he had let it part from his side—just to enjoy some… some… He couldn’t remember anymore.  The beast’s snout grew close to his face, breath like rancid corpses under a Gyr Abanian sun.  It reminded him of the aftermath of war, when the vultures came to take their pickings of what was left behind.

Her mouth opened and he expected more bone-like rattling.  This time, she sounded like a banshee.  Like death cries on a battlefield.  His body remembered its strength, despite its present state.  He shoved her away and tried to pull himself upright with the chair.  As he gasped for air, his bleary gaze turned to the mayhem.

A fire-clad demon and a beast made of darkness rampaged across the dining hall.  A mane like fire sprouted between the demon’s ruby horns, body like twisted human bones fused together in an exoskeleton.  A slash of a blade and blood rained down.  Down, down, like a deluge after a battle.  It splashed the walls then spread into pools, defying the laws of gravity. 

Gaius van Baelsar’s addled mind tried to parse the gory sight.  It seemed unreal but this was the land of savages, where myths reared their ugly heads in the worst of ways.  Gaius once more went to grab Heirsbane before reminding himself that it was gone.  At the end of it all, the Black Wolf was just a man.  Just a scared man in the presence of devils.

He went to flee for the stairs, wobbling and trying to correct himself.  A hand went to his arm and he looked back to see that silver-haired monster pulling him back towards him.  Barbed fingers raking into his clothes, it opened its mouth, unfurling the flesh about it in a scream that threatened to shatter the stained glass windows.  He yanked himself free, falling forward so hard that his vision turned black for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, all three of them bore over him like reapers over the dying.  Their gnarled faces struck terror in him but his body was unmoving.  He wondered if this was how it ended—in the land of the savages, supped upon by their beasts.  The dark one’s mouth opened to an abyss that held the darkest shade of black that Gaius had ever seen.  He stared into it, feeling the tug of slumber call to him.  He wanted nothing more than to succumb to it, his willpower drained.

“The poison!” The words broke through the fog but Gaius’s consciousness was waning.  He knew what those words meant.  But there was naught that could be done.  He faded out into a land of shadow, breathing rising then slowing.

It was a few days later that he awoke in the finest medical facility in the closest castrum.  His mind still was plagued with a haze but it began to clear as soon as he saw Livia’s face—her normal face, fraught with worry and her lower lip quivering.  Rhitahtyn’s brows rose, sitting upright as his lord came to with a sputtering cough.

“My lord!” cried Livia, at his bedside at once.  Hands reaching for him.  On his sweat-drenched face, they rested, cold to the touch.  He looked at her warily.  “Thank goodness.  I thought… I thought we were too late and…”

A shiver in her voice.  Traces of trauma left behind from already losing two parents.  Gaius tried to calm her, gripping her forearm and lowering her hand off of him with a steady look.  His chest heaved and tears blossomed in the corners of Livia’s eyes.

“I demand an explanation,” Gaius croaked, throat feeling as though iron were raking down it.

“It was an assassination attempt, my lord,” Rhitahtyn said to him.  “Fear not—the perpetrators have been dealt with according to Imperial law.”

Executed.

“The masses have heard whispers of the Black Wolf’s demise,” Rhitahtyn continued.  “Nero remains in the city to keep it under control.  We were… unsure if you would survive…”

“And the Emperor?” Gaius asked.

“Demanded that we inform him at once of your condition,” Rhitahtyn said.

“I feel as though I will live,” Gaius said, trying to clear his raspy voice once more.

“And we are full glad to hear that, Lord Gaius,” Livia whispered, settling back in her chair.  “I was so worried…”

“Fear not, Livia,” he replied, tone softening.  “A death by poison ill-fits the Black Wolf.  I would have been remiss to perish in such a way that I would have likely returned out of shame.”

“You jest but you did not see your face when it began to settle in…” Livia said.  “When we realized what had happened…”

“It has been rectified.  I will have my reports, as normal,” Gaius cut her off.

“Reports?  My lord, you are still yet bedridden,” Rhitahtyn stammered.

“Reports, praefectus,” Gaius repeated and the roegadyn gave a bow.  “In paper form, if you please.  As well as a plan to have me back at the capital by nightfall.”

“The chirurgeons claim you may need to—” Rhitahtyn started.

“I care not.  If the masses believe there is weakness to be exploited, they will become emboldened and I cannot allow that.  The Wolf will make his return,” Gaius said flatly and his two subordinates nodded in understanding.

They soon departed to make arrangements and the Black Wolf was left to ponder the hellish nightmare he had experienced.  A scowl was directed at the far wall.  So they had thought to fell the Wolf with poison?  Poison.  A coward’s weapon, ill-fit for those looking to rule.  He would see that none felt so bold as to try their hand at it again. 

Chapter Text

Spells flew from the stone at her cane’s crest, desperation cloying her thoughts.  Escape.  She had to escape.  Her leather boots scraped the ground as she turned to flee.  Blaring sirens resounded across the castrum’s yard.  Kaida barreled down the steel pathway, bullets chasing her as she wove her course.  It was not the gunfire that scared her but the steady clunking of boots behind her.  A wolf had found its prey and Kaida ran faster than she had ever before, hearing the sound of her pursuer grow louder and louder.  When she realized that running was not an option, she whirled back around with a spell glistening at her fingertips.  Her mother’s training and years at the Conjurer’s Guild flashed through her mind in an instant, compressed into the adrenaline that so boldly coursed within her.  The power of water drew to her then released, hoping it would knock him back and grant her more of a chance to flee.

But Gaius van Baelsar would not be deterred; the adventurer realizing the futility of it all as she clutched the wooden weapon to her chest.  Magic rolled over his armor and he continued his charge.  Impervious, the ebony eyes sculpted into his mask unwavering.  Gunblade in hand, its tip already stained with spatter from his last foes.  She threw herself to the side, the midsection of her cane taking the brunt of the blow, enough to bite into the wood.  Kaida backpedaled as he came in for a second strike, her shorter stature played to her advantage as she ducked beneath the swinging blade.  Another spell was launched, hitting true into his gut and sending him back.  He maintained his footing, pausing as his head lifted to take in the sight of her.

“Impressive,” he commended in a voice muffled by the burden of his horned helm.  “I expected nothing less of an eikonslayer.”

“Tell me where Minfilia and the others are!” Kaida snapped at him. 

“So that is the reason behind this trespass,” the legatus said, rising to his full, impressive height.  “An ill-thought-out liberation mission.  A pity it ends here, eikonslayer.”

Chapter Text

There was a storm on the horizon, causing the wind to stir with the warning of danger.  Kaida looked out at where it brooded, the gray skies flickering with traces of lightning.  A sigh heaved from her and then she looked at where Alphinaud stood just a fulm or two away.  His pale features had turned even paler than normal.  He gave an uncertain groan, leaning against the Misery’s wooden railing with a fist propping up his cheek.  It had been three days since they had departed Limsa Lominsa for the distant shores of Kugane.  Three long days… and Kaida was already stir-crazy.  The last time she had boarded a boat for the long journey, she had been younger and freshly traumatized from being dismissed from her village.  Now, she was a woman grown and one with the world’s worries on her mind.

She sighed, side-eyeing Alphinaud and praying he could offer up some manner of conversation to steal her thoughts away from her worsening mood.  He remained silent, however, transfixed by the storm.  The Raen’s fingers drummed impatiently on the railing. 

“I almost regret not going by airship,” she finally said to the young elezen.  “You don’t get seasick often do you?  It looks like we may be facing a storm.”

“I will endeavor not to be bothered by it,” Alphinaud said weakly in reply.  “I only hope the worst of it misses us.  It looks to be quite the tempest.”

A thunderous clap resounded across the ocean, as if confirming his suspicion.

“I suppose we’ll have to take shelter below deck,” continued Alphinaud.  “Though I’ll admit being cramped down there is not exactly how I wished to spend my evening.”

“With some of the company on this ship?  I think I’d rather stay above deck and risk getting tossed into the sea,” Kaida remarked in a low voice, tossing a wary glance over her shoulder at some of the Misery’s crewmembers.

“How uncharacteristically scathing of you,” Alphinaud commented.  “Have they given you reason for offense?”

“I don’t particularly enjoy pirates,” Kaida said bluntly.

“What?  I think that’s the first I’ve heard of that,” Alphinaud blinked in surprise.

“Oh sure, I know these have sworn off their ways.  Or so they claim.  But when I lived out in the Ruby Sea… There are pirates there, too, you see.  They had a habit of leaving shipwrecks and bodies in their wake.  We’d find victims occasionally.  Or, what was left of them,” Kaida continued airily, looking out at where a bolt struck the water in the distance.  “Some of our village even suffered personal losses.  Children that strayed too close to the surface were occasionally kidnapped, never to be seen again."

“A somber reality we live in.  Well, I cannot say I know many who particularly enjoy pirates.  They are, after all, pirates,” Alphinaud remarked with the thoughtful tap to his chin.  “With few redeeming qualities…”

“And they stink,” Kaida added.

“Kaida!” he chided her gently and she crossed her arms.

“I suppose I sound quite judgmental,” Kaida said after a moment of thought.  “I don’t mean to be.  I’m just in a foul mood.”

“We’ve been through much in the last few days,” Alphinaud reminded her.  “After what transpired at Rhalgr’s Reach…”

She did not want to think about that.  But still, Kaida nodded, staring out at how the waves began to grow choppier.  The water was greying in tandem with the sky.  Another rumble signaled that the storm would soon be upon them.

“I have not been to Othard since I was a child,” Kaida added.  “To see the Ruby Sea once more and have naught to show for my progress at redeeming myself…”

“You want to see how your family fares?” Alphinaud asked.

“A part of me does,” Kaida answered.  “But I’ll admit, even sailing in their general direction has me more annoyed than I ought to be.  How would they react to seeing me?  With disappointment?  With joy?  I don’t know…”

“To be severed from one’s family is difficult.  I pray I never know such a feeling… Why don’t we distract ourselves for a spell?  The days have been heavy as of late and I’m certain we could both use the reprieve,” Alphinaud offered to her.  “While in Limsa Lominsa, I took the liberty of purchasing some methods of entertainment for the trip.  Would you be interested?”

“What kind of entertainment?”

“A strategy card game.”

“Oh, so you can wipe the floor with me then?”

“Oh come now.  I would go easy on you the first few rounds.  And then perhaps I could show you the way I defeat Alisaie each time.”

Kaida smirked.  “All right.  Better than sitting out here, I suppose.”

The two made their retreat below decks as the first drops of rain began to fall.  Thunder trembled the wooden boards of the Misery as those without tasks to perform sought shelter from the storm.  As Alphinaud explained to her the rules of the game, the world outside became a shroud of heavy rain and vicious booming as lightning surged ahead.  But the Misery ploughed onward on its course, undeterred and spurred by fate.

Chapter Text

Folding cranes was not Kaida’s idea of a good time.  But Aika had insisted she come with her to keep her company at the least.  Her twin had decided to try her hand at folding a thousand cranes so she could be granted a wish by the kami.  Kaida was not entirely sure anything would happen upon the thousandth crane being folded into existence, but she decided to humor her sister and accompany her nonetheless.  Origami had been something Kaida had never particularly excelled at.  Her cranes came out fine enough but compared to Aika’s, they looked silly and even a big saggy.  The young Raen sighed as she tossed the latest one into the growing stack next to her chair.

“Why are we doing this again?” Kaida complained to Aika, who was diligently creasing the paper with her deft fingers.

“You’ve heard the tale, Kaida,” Aika said in her typical matter-of-fact tone.  “A thousand cranes means you get to make a wish and the kami have to make it come true.  Isn’t that amazing?”

“What do you want to wish for so badly?” Kaida asked with a huff, blowing her bangs out of her face.

“A good husband,” Aika said firmly and her twin almost fell from her chair.

“A husband!?” Kaida sputtered.  “Why would you want one of those?”

“Well,” Aika began, lifting her crane up to the light of the nearby lantern.  “In a few months, we will have seen fifteen summers.  Some girls begin getting engaged at sixteen, you know.  So Mother will likely start looking for suitors for us before long.”

“Boys are gross, though,” Kaida complained. 

“They are,” Aika smiled at the crane nestled in her hands before placing it gingerly atop the stack she had accumulated.  “But it is to be our future, you know.  Getting married.  Continuing the Asagiri tradition.”

Nothing sounded more condemning than that.  Being anchored to someone, being forced to perpetuate something her young heart did not even like.  Kaida recoiled, wrinkling her nose and looking out the window to where the dome shimmered outside.  A school of fish swam by, as if to taunt her with the idea of freedom.  She gave a huff and moodily grabbed the next piece of paper to begin her next crane.

“I don’t want to,” Kaida said after a moment of silence.

“I knew you would say that,” Aika replied.  “You never want to do what Mother wants us to do.”

“It’s just boring,” Kaida complained again and Aika laughed.

“It’s life, Kaida.”

“I’d rather join the guard like Kousuke.”

“They don’t let women join the guard, you know.”

“What if I’m the first they let in?”

“I doubt that.”

“I think I would be good at it.”

“Standing watch over the village?  You can scarcely stand watch over the temple without falling asleep.” Aika had a point there but young Kaida did not want to let her sister win the debate.  Kaida stuck her tongue out at her twin then started on the next crane.  She could feel Aika’s lavender eyes upon her, twinkling in amusement.  “Is marriage that bad to you?”

“When it’s Mother deciding, yes,” Kaida said firmly.

“Oh, so you could see yourself marrying, then?” Aika asked with the sly quirk of her brow.

“Maybe,” Kaida answered.  “But someone not from the village.”  Aika gasped at this and Kaida continued with the roll of her eyes.  “Someone who’s been to the surface.  Who knows things about the world and… Well, someone who is smart and capable.  That’s not terribly scandalous, you know.  Father’s from the surface.”

“And you’ve heard the stories about that place.  Full of fighting and death,” Aika shook her head.  “It sounds dreadful.”

“It sounds exciting!” Kaida exclaimed and Aika frowned at her.

“What is so bad about staying here?” Aika inquired softly.  “It’s peaceful.  We’ve all that we could need here.”

“You sound like Mother.”

“Mother is a smart woman, you know.”

“I’m not disagreeing but I just… I don’t wanna just get married off and expected to live my life bearing children for some man I don’t even care for,” Kaida sighed, lowering her hands to her lap and studying the crane that sat half-completed in front of her.  She was not sure she wanted to continue.  Not unless… “If I fold a thousand cranes, the kami have to grant my wish, right?”

“Kaida…” Aika warned.

“What?” Kaida asked.  “Is it too much to wish to be single forever?”

“You do not mean that.”

“Maybe I do!  If it means dodging Mother’s matchmaking.”

“It’s not as though Mother can force you into a marriage, you know.  She turned down all the suitors Grandmother selected for her,” Aika pointed out.  “She picked Father instead.”

“Yes but Mother seems to think she can break all of her own rules,” Kaida huffed.

“Then why don’t you wish for a husband you would like, then?” Aika asked.  “If it seems so inevitable.”

“What if I wish for the kami to turn me into a jellyfish?  I’m sure they do not have to get married,” Kaida sighed as she picked her half-finished crane back up and started folding it again.

“They don’t have brains so that might be apt for you,” Aika teased and Kaida threw her creation at her.  “Hey!”

“It’s settled, then.  I’ll wish for them to turn me into a jellyfish,” Kaida huffed again.  “And when you go swimming in the sea, I’ll come find you and sting your tail so bad it swells up!”

“You wouldn’t!” Aika exclaimed.

“I would!  Have fun meeting a fancy, good husband then!”

“You’re horrid!”

Kaida stuck her tongue out at her sister once more and they both laughed.

She had never made it to folding a thousand cranes but her hands still remembered how to make the creases years later.  It took a bit to knock off the rust but soon enough the paper-made avian sat in Kaida Asagiri’s palm.  She looked at it warily, thinking back to that day in her youth.  And then she looked to where Gaius sat nearby, reading a book with the light of the sun filtering in through a nearby window.  Funny, when she had been so young, she could have never imagined herself like this—head over heels for anyone (much less a former enemy but Kaida did not want to think about that at the moment).  The idea of being married was so intimately tied into the idea of being stuck in Ao-no-Sato that she had hated it by default.  Even dreaming of someone outside of the village had seemed like a fantasy not worth pursuing.  Her parents had simply been too strict and she knew that had she not been exiled, she would have been married off eventually.  Likely to a man she barely even knew. 

“What is that you’ve made?” Gaius asked and she realized he had noticed the small paper bird in her hands. 

“A crane,” she said simply, holding it up for him to see.  “I’m a bit out of practice, sadly.”

“Impressive,” he remarked and she sat it in front of him.

“Keep it, if you want.  I’ve folded a number of them in my life,” Kaida shrugged.  The softness of his smile as he plucked it from the table gave her pause.  And for a moment, she was grateful she had never folded those thousand cranes.  She doubted that being a jellyfish would be better than this.  Even if that meant she couldn’t sting Aika’s tail as promised.

Adhering to the folds she had made, Gaius creased the bird into a flatter position then tucked it into his shirt pocket.  Its head and the tips of its wing stood out and Kaida giggled.

“That’s an odd place to put it,” she remarked.

“Over my heart?  I should think that the perfect place,” he said lightly.

She paused again, a shy smile directed to the ground. 

“Have I disarmed you, Dragon?” Gaius asked.

“Maybe,” she admitted, walking around the table and planting a quick kiss on his cheek.  “But maybe I don’t mind that.”

“They say there is a first for everything,” mused the Black Wolf.

Another kiss, though this one fell between their lips.  And then Kaida asked, “Tea?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

And with a slight bounce in her step and a hum, the Raen set to prepping the kettle.

Chapter Text

Blood on the throne, blood between the tiles, tracing the squares and staining the already crimson carpet.  Zenos watched it run like small rivers, separating and connecting amid the grooves on the floor.  Katana still dripping, he stood over the corpse, observing it with the same casualness as though it were a flower.  His heart and mind searched in himself as he stared at his sire’s dead face, digging into the droves of numbness to find the semblance of anything.  Varis’s face had stilled in death, peaceful among the violence left behind in his son’s wake.  Zenos gazed into his half-lidded eyes, musing over the morbid glaze that had taken to them.  He thought he could find something there.  Something that banished the void ruminating in his chest cavity.  Instead, he found nothing.  And the sirens overhead blared on as the two intruders made their escape, pursued by his vanguard. 

A flick of his wrist rid his blade of a few more loosened droplets.  Zenos stepped around the corpse and made his way to the throne in slow, measured paces.  He cared not if the vermin were caught.  They had left a flutter in him before they had made their retreat.  It had been a momentary reprieve from the nothing.  But just as a candle in the wind, that feeling had faded out.  He listened in to the sound of chaos around him and then he took the throne as if the corpse did not lay before him.  His katana tip dug into the stone and metal nearby, implanted into the ground with his hand languidly resting atop the hilt.  And there, Zenos sat, thoughts not brewing over what he had done but over the simplicity of it all. 

Chapter Text

The night freshly returned to Rak’tika saw a flourish of stars in the heavens, celebrating their liberation after a century of imprisonment.  Kaida sat atop one of the girthy roots winding from a tree that had likely lived to see a number of kingdoms rise and fall.  Her green eyes fixed upon the sky, she listened to the calm of the night.  Celebrations in nearby Slitherbough rang into the open air.  Drums beat a steady cadence with the trill of flutes singing out.  It reminded her that even this otherworldly land was not so different than the one she called home.

She was at ease and perhaps that was a mistake.  She did not hear him come up behind her.

“A resplendent night for contemplation, is it not, hero?”

Kaida’s hand moved to Deathbringer’s ebony hilt next to her, a spiteful glare shot over her shoulder.  Emet-Selch’s footsteps were silent.  Her fingers wrapped around her sword’s handle, wondering if now was the time he had decided to strike.  For all his posturing, she reminded herself that he was a viper in their midst.  Even if he had saved Y’shtola, he was no friend.

“Such vitriol,” he drawled with a yawn, the shadows of his eyes pronounced more than normal.  “Have I given you reason for offense?”

“Are you really asking that question?” Kaida remarked and his mouth drew into a crooked smirk.  She did not release her weapon.  “Do you not have something better to do?  Diabolical plans that need overseeing?”

“Curious.  Do you think that’s all I do in my spare time?” he asked.  “Nefariously move my pawns in a never-ending chess match against would-be heroes such as yourself?”

“It would not surprise me,” Kaida said honestly.

“Such a narrow-minded view of things,” Emet-Selch commented with a dismissive roll of his shoulders, wandering next to her before taking a seat nearby.  She stared at him as he did, hand unmoving from Deathbringer.  He gave a sigh at her.  “Far be it for me to tell you that you’ve little to fear.  But must you be so hostile?”

“Yes,” said the Raen and for some reason, it made him laugh.  It was a genuine and mirthful sound, his head tilted back.

“Your honesty is appreciated,” he said as the laughter subsided.  “Though I must insist your hostility is ill-placed.  I only came here to observe the night sky.  It has been so terribly long since it graced this forest, after all.”

Everything he said oozed with a sickening honey that made her mistrust him more and more.  But she sighed and put her hand back in her lap. 

“That thing you said at Qitana Ravel,” Kaida said to him with a wary glance, taking note of the way the starlight shone in his sunny irises.  “It does not change anything.”

He laughed again.  “Did it seem as though I anticipated it to?”

She was not sure how to respond to that.  Kaida settled with, “What you do is still wrong.”

And Emet-Selch wryly smirked.  “A matter of opinion, hero.”

“Stop.”

“… You will have to specify what you wish for me to stop.”

“Smiling.  I don’t understand how you can do what you do and still smile like that.”

It wavered, that smile of his.  And when Kaida looked at him, she could have sworn she saw hints of fear flash over his typically nonchalant features.  It was as though something had struck a chord with him.  Or perhaps as though he had seen a ghost.  The moment was fleeting and soon enough she saw that usual levity drain from his eyes, replaced by something scathing.

“Do you truly think knowledge of your Mothercrystal’s—” It was said as a venomous spit, the most malice she had ever heard from him. “—true nature changes naught?  Already I can sense the wavering in your resolve.  How many times since we have left that dusty old ruin have you wondered if you do this out of your own will?  … Or perhaps out of another’s?”

“Enough!” Kaida snapped at him with a bristle.

“How many times has that blade of yours cut through the air at a man enthralled by a primal?” Emet-Selch asked.  “Do you wonder if you are no different, hero?  Thrown down a path but sweet-talked into thinking it was what you wanted all this time?”

“I am no thrall,” Kaida spat at him.  “I would have done all of this regardless of Hydaelyn.  It was the right thing to do.  The Mothercrystal has little to do with my actions.”

“Oh, but do you know that?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“… You play the devil’s advocate poorly.”

“And who said I was advocating for anything?”

“You certainly take offense at the idea of being tempered.”

“W-wouldn’t you?!”

He fell silent.  She wondered if there was any meaning behind the scrutinizing look on his face.  But Kaida was too stubborn to ask.  She looked back out at the sky and Emet-Selch rose from his seat, giving his robes a quick dust-off with his hand.  A casual wave was made over his shoulder as he made his exit.

“Such debate ill-suits a lovely evening,” was all he said before he vanished into a portal of darkness.

Chapter Text

Kaida did not make it a habit of taking days off but Tataru had insisted she begun looking after her own mental health.  Despite the Raen’s protests, Tataru had slapped a pamphlet in her hands and Kaida’s gaze had wandered down to its title—The Epic of Alexander, a ballad sung of a metal colossus and the Warrior of Light who saw it defeated.  She had given pause, lips pursed as she looked over the impressive artwork that had been printed on the front.  And then Kaida had agreed to go check the performance out.

She was not going to go alone, however.  In most instances, she would have asked for another of the Scions to accompany her—Y’shtola or Lyse, but… given recent events, she knew exactly who she wanted to ask but balked at the idea of making the call.  It seemed too risky… yet she knew what she wanted.  So after much back and forth, she forced herself to make the call and asked Gaius to come with her to Ul’dah.

Their relationship was quite fresh still; Kaida had not gotten past the stage of jumping at shadows, believing everyone around them was staring at two of them.  She knew she was likely far more paranoid than she ought to have been.  Gaius had done well to keep his face concealed during his time as a legatus, after all.  Most Ul’dahns could not have picked him out in a lineup of other Garleans.  The Sultana was different, however, having seen his face during Alliance meetings.  Kaida was certain Nanamo would not say anything publicly but she was certain if they were spotted together, it would have gotten back to the other leaders.  Politics were a nasty game and even if everyone got along together at the table, one misstep politically could spell strife between the Alliance leaders and the Scions.  Kaida resolved to simply ensure that they were not seen together by anyone who would know who they were.  It was the only solution she could think of.

She paid his airship fare and waited for him at the landing strip on the day of the performance.  Having chosen to mask her identity, she had gone with violet hair dye.  She let her hair run down her to her shoulders and had gotten Tataru to help with make-up choices.  Her armor had been replaced with an airy white blouse and a black skirt.  The changes were enough that she hoped her partner would not mind and the crowd would not notice her at all.

When Gaius stepped off the airship and saw her, his expression was indiscernible.  Kaida felt herself sweat under his prying gaze, silently begging him to say something.  And then he took her hand into his, a gentle kiss planted upon it.  She flushed under her make-up as she looked up at him.  He had swapped his Shadowhunter’s garb for a clean, fitted white overcoat and dark pants tucked into knee-high boots. 

“My lady,” his voice was a purr and that made the Ul’dahn weather feel that much more intense.

“It’s good to see you,” she smiled at him, as though it had been moons since they had seen each other instead of just a few long days.  Their fingers interlocked and they began towards the venue.

“How fares Terncliff in my absence?” Kaida asked as they stepped out into the bustling streets.

“Well enough,” said Gaius in return.  “Blissfully quiet.”

“I’m glad,” Kaida said.  “We could use some quiet.  Tataru’s told me I’m overworking myself again.”

“And did I not say the same thing last week?” came the Black Wolf’s playful tease.  She side-eyed him and he pulled her close for a moment, moving so that she was in front of him.  A kiss was given to her forehead scales.  She feigned irritation but could not help but smile at him.  He really was putting on suave airs, wasn’t he?   He studied her face then remarked.  “Your work ethic is certainly never questioned.  That is all that I mean.”

“It’s not as though the world saves itself,” Kaida pointed out.

“Correct as you may be, does a warrior not know when to strike and when to stay their hand?” Gaius asked her then shook his head.  “Enough of this.  I would rather not begin our day with a debate.  We’ve an hour yet until the performance.”

“Lunch, then?” Kaida asked.

“I should think that wise.”

Food was found at a small café not far from the venue.  Their chatter was idle, smalltalk that blended with the charming setting around them.  The meal was enjoyed with some cold tea, refreshing in the heat.  Gaius removed his coat at one point to let himself cool off.  She had forgotten he was so acclimated to colder settings; this was likely torture for him, particularly in such nice attire.  He reassured her that he was fine and the two soon set off for the performance.  Making their way to the venue, they walked the street with arms locked.  Kaida strove to not make eye contact with anyone, looking instead to him when her heart began to feel the first flutters of nervousness.

The venue was packed but they soon found seats towards the back.  Kaida preferred it this way, not wanting to be in the line of sight of so many people.  The minstrel sat below on a chair, tuning his harp.  An announcer declared the show would soon be starting and Kaida leaned against Gaius slightly, the feeling of him nearby comforting her.

“This tale he will tell,” Gaius started.  “This is a true story?”

“Yes,” Kaida replied.

“Of your exploits?” he quirked a brow.

“Not so loud!” she whispered.  “But yes.”

“I am glad I could make it, then.  I have longed to hear of your adventurers in the days after…” Gaius trailed off.  ‘Praetorium’ was how she suspected he would have ended the sentence.

Before she could reply, the minstrel began his song.

“Untold dreams of men long passed

Breathe life into a god of steel.

Untold futures it did forecast,

In each, the world’s fate sealed.

Yet in darkness, a glimmer of hope,

A hero to answer the call.

Yond time and space the steel god waits,

For the one who shall bring its downfall.”

She supposed that was an apt way to describe the tale.

“With blazing blade in hand,

A hero doth descend,

To make against the god a final stand,

And old Dravania defend.

Yet within the god’s steel hull,

Sprung creations made by merciless minds.

With intentions to any intruders cull

Leaving naught but corpses behind.”

She blinked.  Well, that was true, she supposed… But where were the mentions of the goblins?

“First came a man whose body was as water

An anomalous beast with fell intent,

Yet found wanting and driven back to its ewer,

Where it remained in eternal lament.”

Then cameth explosions from another cruel foe

Its body crafted of fine gold

And from its helm came an awful red glow

Pain it promised fivefold.”

And with it descended yet another enemy,

A brute with wings of—”

Kaida frowned.  Wait… wait, this did not sound right.  Cruise Chaser and Brute Justice?  At the same time?  That absolutely had not happened, what was this minstrel doing--

“Most impressive, Warrior of Light,” Gaius whispered as he leaned over and she shot him a side-eyed glare.

“I don’t think this is quite how…” Kaida began.

“—and judgement nisi decree.”

“… that all played out…” Kaida finished quietly, a slight twitch in her eyelid and her hand meeting her face.

“Are you implying the good man is embellishing the tale?” Gaius whispered back mockingly.

“Quiet, you.  I suppose I should be glad that he has yet to do a tale of the Dragon and the Wolf.”

“I wonder if he takes commissions…”

She sighed at him.  “I hate you.”

Chapter Text

A gentle rain had blanketed the Black Shroud the night before, leaving behind puddles in the forest trail. Her boots splashed as she walked, hair tied loosely into a honeyed ponytail that ran down her back, resting between her shoulder blades. The humidity wetted her brow but it was a sensation Lillian Willows was accustomed to. She walked the Shroud trail with her satchel at her hip and hatchet slung in her belt. The tunic she wore had been woven light enough to permit the breeze through it and for that she was grateful. The summer heat was unpleasant in the woods when it reached its heights. Yet her work could not wait.

Birdsong came out in shy melodies in the wake of the rain. Lillian listened to them as her feet carried down the road she knew so well. It was a peaceful day and she was thankful for it. Her path diverged at a fork in the road, the wet blades of grass caressing over her breeches, leaving wisp-like stains. A few yalms away from the road lay a small grove. There was a delightful berry bush there—her mother had showed it to her years ago. A berry pie sounded good so Lillian had packed thick gloves to guard her skin from the thorns. She arrived and gave the bush a look over. A quiet prayer to Nophica was given before she started to harvest the fruit.

When the wind stirred, she took note of it; Lillian had been out on her own enough times to know that the forest would give out warning bells if danger approached. The botanist froze, listening keenly. A sudden halting of the birdsong made her skin crawl. When she lifted her head, she realized that a fog had rolled in, bathed in the scent of petrichor and something more. And then she looked up over the rim of the berry bush, towards the far side of the grove, where the mist seemed to congregate. In it moved a shadow, big as a horse and dark as night. Lillian’s hand moved to the hatchet at her side slowly.

The mist parted just enough for the specter to reveal itself; a man clad in ancient black armor and mounted upon a midnight-coated stallion. Its mane was a rusty red, its eyes like pools of blood. The horse gave a snort, its breath haggard. The phantom atop its back turned to look in her direction, making nary a sound. She felt as though she had turned to stone at the mere sight of both rider and steed.

There were many horrors in the woods but Lillian had always known where to tread and where to avoid. She stared at them both as they walked parallel to her, crossing the grove and then suddenly swallowed by the eerie fog. Still she remained that way for some time, one hand around the plump body of a berry and the other glued to her hatchet. After a long silence, Lillian talked herself into fleeing, taking the berries and scrambling for the road as fast as her feet could muster.

Chapter Text

It was the end of the line.  Nero watched Cid sink to the ground, back pressed against the contraption they had been toiling on.  The back of his head made a distinct thunk against the metal casing, the despondence in his silver-blue eyes giving them a glossy sheen.  They had been working for days without rest on the project, all the while the Empire continued mercilessly bombarding the world with Black Rose.  How many had perished at this point, Nero could not say.  He was not sure it was possible to calculate the fatalities.  The Empire had struck with extreme prejudice; it was a calamity to end all calamities… and try as they might to create a way to shield against it, it seemed as though all they had managed to do was waste their time away while the apocalypse happened outside.  The device did not work.  It did not even so much as turn on.  All of that time for naught and should the Empire choose to strike again, they would be defenseless.

“On your feet, Garlond, unless you think the answer will find you on the ground,” Nero grunted, reaching for his despairing comrade only to have a hand bat him away.  Usually, this was the part where Nero had a quip.  But on that day, he was too tired—and in more ways than one.  Instead, he opened the panel to the device’s generator and began looking it over, musing where they had gone wrong in their calculations.

“There’s no point.”  Cid’s voice was a notch above a whisper and Nero spared him a gander from his peripherals as he carried on, trying to ignore the tremor that had taken to his hands. 

“Tell that to the living,” Nero said after a moment, tone uncharacteristically stiff.  “I dare say they might disagree with you.”

“Who’s even left?” Cid asked with a tiny scoff.  “The Scions are dead.  The Warriors of Light…”

That was when his voice broke.  His composure stayed, though.  Nero watched him fight through the threat of a sob.  It was too much even for him to bear and he focused his attention on the generator, opening it up and looking at the tangle of wires within.  Surely the problem lay there, he told himself.  His twitching fingers began plucking through them, jaw clenched.

“‘Freedom through technology’… What a load of shite it all turned out to be.  These feckless attempts at righting what’s happened…” Cid continued. 

“Pass me the pliers,” Nero said distractedly, feeling the stare he received in turn.  A scowl on his face, he glanced down at where Cid stared up at him. 

“Nero.  Enough.”

“The pliers, Garlond.”

“There’s no reason for this anymore.  It’s done.  It’s over.”

“The pliers, Garlond.”

Cid shoved them into his hand with a hissing sigh.  Nero took them and continued the work, emotions frayed and body aching from head to toe.  He tried to ignore the building haze in his vision, exhaustion having sunken its fangs into him.  Fervently, he blinked through the tears, seizing a suspicious looking wire and replugging it elsewhere.  The pliers were used to make an adjustment on a rather tricky knob but his hands shook too badly.  The tool was dropped and Nero was left to curse and attempt to fish it back out of the device.

“Nero—”

“What!?” snarled Nero, still reaching for where he had dropped the pliers.

“We have been at this for days and—” Cid continued.

“And I hope you do not intend to stop now!” Nero snapped, each exhale a pant that whistled from his mouth as his bloodshot eyes bore holes into Cid’s.

Nero had seen Cid mourn before but this time was different.  He could see where Cid was splitting at the seams, undone by the calamity and everyone it had taken.  It was enough to give Nero pause, to almost want to let the pliers stay where they had fallen.  His next breath came out with a shudder, pale eyes skirting to the floor of the workshop.

“They’re dead, Nero,” Cid whispered.

It should have sobered him further.  Instead, it enraged him.

“I know that!” He did not need to be reminded.  Not again.  Not ever again…  “And if they were here, they would telling you…” Nero felt his voice break for a moment and he composed himself quickly.  “… the very same thing that I am.  On your feet, Garlond.  There’s still work to be done.”

“Had we known this would happen… maybe we could’ve… but… we’re out of time,” Cid breathed.  But there was a change in his eyes.  Nero saw his posture stiffen.  He blinked a few times, staring across the workshop with his lips moving ever so slightly.  And then he repeated. “Time…”

“What are you on about now?” Nero asked tiredly, fingers finally catching the handle of the pliers.

“Nero,” Cid stood up abruptly, so quickly that he had to steady himself with a hand upon the device.  “Have I ever told you about Alexander?”

“Who the hells is Alexander—”

“A sentient time machine.”

“What—”

“Nero…” Cid sucked in a breath.  “I’ve… I’ve an idea.”

“Go on…” came Nero’s apprehensive reply.

“You’re going to think I’m mad—”

“I already think that, Garlond, pray continue.”

“Do you recall Omega?”

“How could I bloody forget Omega?”

“The Interdimensional Rift.  A robot that can traverse time…!  There’s a chance…” Cid breathed, hands clenching Nero’s arms.  “There’s a chance we could right this.  Truly right this…”

Nero stared at him for a moment before giving a small nod of understanding.  Cid’s hands slipped from where they had gripped his arms.  And with a newfound spark, he rushed over to his worktable, with Nero’s eyes following him in bewilderment.  Traversing through time… across multiple dimensions… well, if that was not a longshot, Nero did not know what was.  Yet still, there was a certain logic to the madness.  He considered it for a moment, tapping his chin before following Cid to the table.

“Now what do you have in mind exactly?” Nero asked, glancing over Cid’s shoulder in interest.

Chapter Text

She hoped he had not noticed her, back pressed against the thick trunk of the oak tree.  Her heart fluttered fearfully, hands clasped at the gemstone at her nape.  The stolen duds still fit her poorly; the fiery red fabric hanging upon her lithe form in places that reminded her of a potato sack.  She told herself she could hem it, though, when she got the supplies for it.  Until then, she was a sloppy crimson-clad bandit in the woods, evading capture from the authorities.  And poorly, at that.  Somehow, she had been tracked all the way here, to the edge of the Shroud.  Lillian took out the engraved red stone from her pocket, her thumb vigorously running over it as though it were a genie’s lamp that could have spirited her away from the bad situation she was in.  Instead, as she mentally pleaded for aid from it, it only served to occupy her thoughts as her pursuer came closer.

“Hello there.”

His voice was so friendly and honey-sweet that she wanted to gag.  So smug.  Her violet eyes darted up to meet his, acutely aware that he was about to recognize her.  And when he did, she felt her cheeks redden with a blush, though its hue was not quite the intensity of her garb.

“Missus… Willows?” Thancred blinked in surprise and Lillian crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly.

“Yes?” She asked as though this were normal—them stumbling upon each other in the woods.

“You’re…” Thancred considered aloud.  “… Dressed differently.”

He meant the stolen clothes.  The ones that had called to her, like an echo from a distant past that did not belong to her but also did belong to her.  Lillian swallowed, chin lifted despite feeling so utterly flustered.  How was she going to get out of this one?

“I went shopping in Ala Mhigo,” Lillian said stiffly.

“Is that why the pant legs are so scuffed?” he pointed out, the edges of his mouth upturning into a small smirk.

“We are in a forest,” Lillian pointed out.

“Right.  And I was asked by the Ala Mhigan guard to keep an eye out for a clothes-snatching thief.  Know you of anyone matching that description?  They seem to have made off with an old relic from King Theodoric’s reign.  Clothes belonging to a… certain type of mage organization that existed years ago?” Thancred asked knowingly.

He knows who these clothes belong to?  Then he must know about the stone as well.  If only he weren’t an adversary, then I could pick his brain for answers.  But sadly, it doesn’t seem as though he’s here to chat.  Just to turn me over to the authorities…

“I’m afraid I am but a simple girl from Quarrymill that was enamored by an outfit I saw at the store,” Lillian said disdainfully, trying to mask her growing anxiety.  “And I bid you a good day, Master Waters.”

When she tried to pass him, he caught her wrist.

“Now, now, Missus Willows,” Thancred began, leaning in.  “At least permit me to escort you to the nearest settlement.  It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, after all.”

To the nearest settlement?  Or to the nearest gaol?

“And should I refuse your company?” Lillian asked sweetly.

His grip tightened, expression unchanging.  “I insist, my lady.”

Well, I… I suppose I’ll have to accompany him for the moment.  But still, we are a ways yet from the nearest town.  I don’t suppose he will have his guard up entirely on the way there.

“Lead on, then,” she mustered up a smile and the two began back towards the wooded road.

Chapter Text

Nothing felt right after Norvrandt.  That was a truth that she had come to realize in the days since returning to the Source.  The dormant bodies of the Scions lay in the next room over, sleeping and yet not dreaming.  She could not bear looking at them nor contemplating the grim reality that they were stuck in the other world.  Some things were too much, especially lately.  The final words of Emet-Selch echoed with slim resonance in her heart, as if she could almost feel something for him that was not a bitter loathing.  A ghost of a feeling.  That scared her, it made her feel like there were things about her that were not really her.  And it caused Kaida to become restless, stealing away from her duties to find solace in the crystal-ridden highlands of Mor Dhona.  She stared out at the Crystal Tower, the weather a violet gloom.  A wind blew through her hair, refreshing but not enough to banish her frustrations.

Times like these made her wish that she could speak with Ardbert again.  Ardbert had always known what to say, even in that awkward, bashful way of his.  At first, his intrusions had been unwelcome.  But now, upon that rocky hill, she longed to look up and see his specter one more time.  Her fingers grabbed at a nearby rock and hurled it angrily down the ridge.  She listened to it hit the ground, skidding until the sound of it faded.  Kaida gave a sigh, resting her forehead onto her knees.

I suppose he’s… somewhere in there.  Maybe if I try talking to him…?

“Hey,” she whispered, feeling a bit silly as she did.  “Are you… are you there?”

Silence was the answer.

“… I mean, I suppose you are.  It… would be silly if you weren’t, at this point.  Maybe you just can’t… reply…”

The wind continued to blow across Mor Dhona, whistling over the crystalline structures all around her. 

“… Who were we?  Who were we, Ardbert?”

Pause.

“It doesn’t feel real.  I’m still not sure it is.  But then I think of you and I think of that city and a part of me just knows…”

She swallowed.

“I don’t want to have been another person.  I don’t think I like the sound of that.  Is it selfish?  Probably.  I would have loved to hear your thoughts on it too…”

But it was too late now.  She searched inwardly, she tried to find the piece that was him.  But there was nothing.  And she hissed out a sigh, feeling her eyes sting with tears.

“I don’t think I want to know what they were like.  I don’t think I even want to think on it too much… is that bad?”

No response.

“What if I had known all of them in the past?  What if we had been—” No.  No, she did not want to think about that.  She dug her heels in; she refused.  “… It’s pointless to go down that road, I suppose.  At the end of it all, we made our choices…”

Even if we didn’t know…

She sighed, the breath coming out with a shudder.  Kaida wanted to say more yet the ringing silence made her feel more and more like a fool.  The crystals glimmered around her, glowing with pale cyan aether.  In the distance, the Crystal Tower looked out over the land as a silent sentinel.  It was a beautiful day, really.  She tried to image the world in any other way and she found herself laboring to.  It was for the best, Kaida thought to herself solemnly.  What was ash need not be remembered.  Not when it was too painful.

Chapter Text

It was a bit too often that X’rhun Tia got himself into trouble with the law.  He wanted to say it was worth it every time.  But as the bullets of gunblades sang past his ears, he questioned his life choices.  His sanguine garb made him stand out among the dry pale red-brown of the Gyr Abanian homes.  He chastised himself for not keeping his disguise up.  With dull brown robes, he might have blended in with the local Ala Gannhans better.  Ah well.  Too late for that now.

The miqo’te bobbed and wove as his pursuers tailed him.  Fortunately, his opponents wore heavy armor—the very sort that caused men to all but melt away in such arid conditions.  Their bulky gear meant X’rhun was faster than they were and that would make all the difference.  But their bullets bit into the buildings next to him, sinking into the walls.  He winced, praying no one was caught in the crossfire as he dashed through the tight alleyways.

“My apologies!” he called out as his rapier nimbly slashed a rope holding some barrels upright, causing them to spill behind him.  He heard the guards as they shouted in outrage.  They fell further and further behind him and the miqo’te made a sprint for the outskirts of town.  If they were to give chase, he wanted to see how fast they would faint in the wilds.  Their fancy Garlean armor would do little good out there as he laughed his way to liberation. 

But perhaps he spoke too soon.  X’rhun quickly saw the other officers gathered at the edge of town, waiting to intercept.  His rapier flashed, reflecting the sunlight, and he readied himself.  A few gunshots fell at his feet and X’rhun gave pause, panting from exertion.  His sky blue eyes locked onto the closest guard, who appeared to be a captain of sorts.  A lull in his escape attempt preluded their clash, metal against metal as his rapier met the captain’s gunblade.  X’rhun moved with the swiftness of a hawk—flinging lightning and fire and then gap-closing with another dash.  Sparks flew as his rapier collided with one sword then the next.  A few quick hits to vital places saw the captain’s guardsmen fall.  And then it was just the two of them, pacing circled around each other warily.

“One of the illustrious Crimson Duelists, is it?” taunted the captain.  “Your spellslinging is impressive but all rebels must be brought to heel.  The lord viceroy has outlawed your organization.  Bend the knee and mayhaps he’ll spare you.”

“I should think the viceroy would put my head on a stake regardless of the position of my knees.  I know how wolves tend to treat their quarry,” X’rhun said in return.  “And besides, it’s quite difficult to get Gyr Abanian dust off these breeches.”

“Then die, cur!” snarled the guard and the two met with blades once more. 

Chapter Text

It was hard to find a silver lining in the days after the Bloody Banquet.  Kaida stared out at the snow as it fell in heaps outside, her frail body tucked into a dark, cushioned robe that she had thankfully bought prior to her flight to Ishgard.  This wintery land put a depression on her; that was what she blamed, at the least—the jagged and unfriendly ridges of Coerthas and the snow that insisted upon falling.  The light that had once ignited her emerald irises had dulled.  She stared out the window of Fortemps Manor with a bitter expression.  Behind her, Tataru sat with a thread and needle—just a way to keep her hands busy as they fretted.  Alphinaud was next to her on one of the Fortemps’s elegant couches, dismally looking into the nearby burning hearth.

They had been in Ishgard for a few days now.  Since arriving, they had confined themselves to the manor mostly, as to not cause much of a ruckus in the streets.  That had been partially upon Haurchefant’s request, which they had agreed to.  Kaida’s Auri heritage marked her as incredibly suspicious, particularly to the inquisitors.  Her hair had been cropped short and dyed a pleasant rich turquoise in the wake of the incident in Ul’dah, but the short length made it impossible to hide her fin-like horns.  She resorted to wearing a hood when she went outdoors.  Another of Haurchefant’s requests—he was worried the guard would give her trouble if she did not.  He mentioned something vaguely about an Au Ra tribe seeking shelter in Ishgard once.  It had not ended well apparently, not with the ongoing war against the Horde.  People did not like what was unknown to them.

Staying indoors made it difficult to try to hunt down the missing Scions.  Every day, Kaida tried her linkpearl again but to no avail.  It seemed as though Minfilia had vanished inexplicably, taking the others with her somehow.  Though it defied logic, it seemed they were forced to accept the reality that no one was out here.  They were alone… just the three of them…

“What a mournful expression you wear today, my friend,” said Haurchefant as he stepped up towards Kaida.  It was so abrupt that it made her jolt in surprise.  He frowned slightly.  “At ease!  It is only I… and with a few mugs of hot chocolate.  An Ishgardian specialty during cold, stormy days such as these.”

The mug was passed into her hand and Kaida smiled at him, the steam drifting up to warm her cheeks.

“Thank you, Haurchefant,” Kaida said.

“My pleasure as always, dear friend,” he replied, passing a mug to Tataru and Alphinaud each. 

“Such a bitter storm outside,” Alphinaud remarked.  “At this rate, Tataru, I dare say it would be for the best if you began working on thick socks for the lot of us.  What… is it that you are working on?”

“A gift for Lord Edmont,” Tataru said, holding up the red and black scarf then frowning.  “But I am afraid I do not have his measurements.  I’m having to do it all by sight and I’m not sure his height…”

“Permit me to be your steadfast mannequin, then,” Haurchefant offered and Tataru gave a giggle.

“If you don’t mind.  I’ll just need you a moment.  Unless you want to stand there as I knit…?”

“Whatever is most convenient!”

He stooped low to the ground so Tataru could wrap what she had around his nape, looking it over with a scrunched up face.  Haurchefant remained as still as he could in the squatting position.  Nearby, Alphinaud gave a small chuckle.  Outside, the bells from the cathedral rang out.  Another hour into the day… not that Kaida could tell the difference.  The sun was shrouded entirely in the haze of the snowstorm.

“Truly, Lord Haurchefant, you are a knight to inspire all knights,” Alphinaud mused as he took a sip of his hot chocolate, hissing as the hot beverage hit his tongue.

“Ahhh I don’t suppose you’re quite as accustomed to such hot drinks as we Ishgardians,” Haurchefant remarked, teetering for a moment before Tataru stilled him with a hand to his shoulder.  “Give it a few minutes and it should cool to suit your fancy.”

“Is it standard Ishgardian practice to drink your drinks straight from the kettle?” Kaida asked with a raised brow. 

“Ah but that would be telling, would it not?” Haurchefant asked with a cheeky wink.  “Suffice it to say that my tongue has been scalded many a time in my years.  My family has a particularly strong penchant for sweets.  Hot chocolate being no different.  I used to be chided by my step-mother for adding in extra spoonfuls of chocolate just to make the taste richer.”

“You don’t seem like the delinquent sort,” Kaida commented.

“All children are delinquents in their youths.  I did a fair number of things I shouldn’t have,” Haurchefant admitted, rubbing the back of his nape.  “Ahhh but that’s neither here nor there.  Tell me, Miss Kaida, were you a model student?  I would imagine quite so!  You always have an air about you that indicates as much.”

“Absolutely not,” Kaida laughed as she sipped her drink, giving a small wince.  It was still quite hot.

“Really?” Alphinaud blinked in surprise.  “I would have assumed otherwise.”

“My parents were angry with me more often than not.  There’s… a reason I don’t really talk about them,” Kaida answered with a small shrug, turning her gaze out the window once more.  Her parents… ugh, they were the last people she wanted to think about now.  The Raen’s eyes searched the pale gloom for something—any sign of hope in the storm.  But there was nothing.  She hoped if the others had made it up north, they would at least be in some form of shelter to keep warm.

“A tender spot, surely.  I can… sympathize with having elders that expect much from you,” Alphinaud said, slightly wistful.  He blew upon the surface of his drink then gave it a small sip.  No flinching this time. 

“It’s all right.  It’s just a thing of the past now,” Kaida said stiffly, the cold of the window outmatched by the warmth of the beverage she drank. 

“I think I’ve got it!” Tataru exclaimed and pulled the scarf from Haurchefant’s nape so fast it made him wince.  “Thank you, Lord Haurchefant!”

“My pleasure,” said the silver-haired elezen dutifully then joined Kaida near the window.  A hand went to her shoulder.  She looked up at him, smiling once more.  It was… only half-forced today.  He had that contagious sunshine about him, she thought. 

Haurchefant gave pause as he looked down at her, bright blue eyes twinkling.  “I have had my men scour the Coerthan highlands since your arrival at Camp Dragonhead.  Fear not.  They will be found.  Of this, I can assure you.”

“You’ve shown us much generosity,” Kaida said.  “I don’t know how we could repay you.”

“My dear, you forget all too well how much you aided me in clearing Lord Francel’s name.  Would that I could wave my hand and conjure your companions here,” Haurchefant replied remorsefully.  “But I suppose for the moment, we shall have to settle for silver linings.”

“And what silver linings are you referring to?” Kaida asked.

“That we are safe by a warm hearth, protected from the bite of the storm, and have each other’s company to enjoy,” Haurchefant answered. 

“All good things… I just wish the others were here with us,” Kaida lamented.

“In due time, my dear,” Haurchefant said.

She prayed he was right.

Chapter Text

The spears they used to pierce his scales were as needles to his thick hide.  They stabbed out of an angry desire, in tandem with war cries like those he had heard for the past few centuries.  The wyrm’s jaws found its next target, jagged and cruel teeth rending the knight’s life from him in a single crunch.  All humans sounded the same when they died.  Some were squishier than others.  With sanguine blood seeping between his teeth, Nidhogg released his quarry, metal meeting the ground in a slump.  A lance found its mark at his flank and the wyrm’s tail found its mark upon the man’s skull, crushing him instantly into a red mess on the ground.  A roar shook the heavens and the earth.  His wings beat like gales across the plains, buffeting his attackers back.  They were undeterred, however.  They were always undeterred.  The knights came in groups, brandishing their manmade weapons of war.  Their swords like dragon fangs.  Their spears like claws.  They raked against him, praying for success—an end to the never-ending war.

It was all for naught because of course it was.  They were mortals and who was he but a dark-winged god, thriving off of a hate that burned hotter than dragonfire?  When they ran at him, they ran to their certain dooms.  His jaws were waiting, his crimson flames hungering for flesh as kindling.  They cried out in terror.  It was like music, the way their bones crunched.  It was like a feast, the way their bodies tasted.  He lavished in the moment, cherishing each kill until—

Estinien awoke, a cold-sweat over his mostly naked form.  His chest heaved, eyes struggling to focus on the world around him.  Eventually, the ceiling of the inn room came into view and he took in everything about it.  He traced the ridges with his eyes, heart so loud that it nearly robbed him of his hearing.  Another nightmare, he reassured himself as he tried to control his breathing.  But the distinct taste of blood lingered in his mouth.  At first, he thought it was just a figment of his imagination.  Then, Estinien realized that he had bitten his lip in his sleep.  Blood dribbled onto his chin and he smeared it away with the back of his hand.  A few more breaths and he began to feel himself calm.  Hands trembling, he adjusted the way his silver hair had fanned out around his head, giving his neck some air.  A gander at the window saw that the night persisted.  It would be difficult to get more rest.  In silence, Estinien went back to staring at the ceiling, licking away the blood on his lip and trying to forget the feeling of the wyrm’s frenzy.        

Chapter Text

Under the tumbling waves of the Ruby Sea lay a world undeterred by the tribulations of land and the people who made their nations upon it.  Crimson coral reached towards the distant sunlight in forked fingers, interwoven upon the massive rocky reefs.  Colorful fish darted around them, flashing in a rainbow of hues.  Scarlet, azure, golden, chartreuse—young Kaida watched the school pass by, wonderment in her eyes.

Swimming outside of her village’s borders was something she had only done a handful of times.  The sights were so fascinating to her!  The anemones that swayed nearby captured her attention, tendrils wavering through the water like thick noodles in a boiling pot.  She wanted to touch one but Kousuke had warned her not to—some of them could sting fiercely, only letting certain kinds of fish swim among them.  She admired them from a distance, taking in the sights of their lilac bodies before realizing her older brother was leaving her behind.  Kaida swam fervently after him, watching as he looked about the reef they were exploring.

He was just a few years older than she was, a teenager that his parents had begrudgingly given up on.  Kousuke had made it clear to them he meant to join the town guard and he practiced with his spear by picking fights with the ocean fauna when he could.  Small sharks were his favorite to menace.  He already had a few scars from their merciless teeth. 

Her brother looked back at her as she struggled to catch up to him, his blond hair flowing about behind him.  He gestured for her to hurry then continued forward, passing between two large underwater cliffs.  Kaida followed him and realized he had found the start of an underwater canyon.  They swam towards the bottom of it, which was visible but the shadows around it darkened the area ahead, the bottom dropping down and out of side.  It was enough to give Kaida a shudder, fearing what could be found down there.

Kousuke did not seem interested in looking either; instead, he stopped at the sandy bottom of the shallower part and stooped down to grab something.  When he rose back to his full height, he had a small crab nestled in his palms.  Kaida marveled at it silently, reaching out to touch it.  One of its claws snipped at her angrily and she jerked her hand back in alarm.  Kousuke gave her an amused look and set the crab free.  Then he looked to the deep part of the trench.  Kaida wondered if he thought to take her there.  She wondered if he had ever gone there himself. 

Kaida swam over to one of the rocky walls of the cliffs, looking over some starfish and spiny urchins that had made their homes there.  She did not notice the shadow under Kousuke grabbed her and pointed up with a finger.  Not a word.  Kaida’s eyes turned to where the sun had been blotted out by a strange shape.  She had never seen anything its size, not except a whale once when she was very small.  This, however… this was different.  It was a gargantuan octopus, the largest she had ever seen.  Its body was a fell gray-black, tentacles propelling it through the waters with a terrifying grace.  Kaida’s eyes snapped wide as it passed them overhead, Kousuke’s grip on her tightening.  Her hand went to his arm in fear.  She held onto him as best as she could and they floated like that for some time, until the massive creature descended into the shadowy depths of the trench on their other side.  They exchanged a look then thought better of their adventure in the Ruby Sea.   

Chapter Text

It had been three long weeks since the Scions had returned to the Source.  The adventures on Norvrandt felt as though they existed in a liminal space between the distant and close past.  Kaida still found her head spinning from all the revelations in their time on the First.  Amaurot haunted her dreams more often than she wanted to admit, the echo of Emet-Selch’s parting words forever in the back of her mind.  It made it hard to live in the present when she thought so often of the past.

G’raha must have sensed her unease because he invited her out for a chat.  It was not often that they had moments like these—just the two of them.  Scion work had slowed, which meant everyone was around the Rising Stones.  That meant almost all of their agents were on standby, and that left for a very cramped, very full headquarters.  It left little opportunity for one-on-one chats. 

Kaida sat on a nearby crate, legs swinging back and forth as she watched G’raha practice his archery.  He claimed he was out of practice and wanted someone to monitor his stance as he trained.  Kaida knew little to nothing about archery, which she confessed to him immediately, but she indulged him nonetheless.  It was a good chance to get to talk to him without interruption.

“Tataru tells me you have been busy as of late,” G’raha said, nocking an arrow and lining up a shot.  It sank just above the bullseye marker.  His tail lashed in annoyance.  “The Empire has decided to take a leaf from the book of the Allagans and started devising their own Weapons.”

“That’s the gist of it, yes,” Kaida replied.

“They know not what they toy with,” G’raha mused darkly.  “Yet so often do people play with powers beyond their ken.  History will not remember Garlemald fondly and for many reasons at that.”

The miqo’te’s next arrow thudded way off-center and he gave a frown, one of his ears flitting to the side.  “It would seem I am quite out of practice,” he announced to Kaida.

“I think a few hundred years will do that to you,” she remarked and he gave her a bitter smile, pulling the next from his quiver.  It struck slightly closer to the middle and he looked a bit relieved.

“You have changed tremendously over the past few years,” G’raha observed.  “I was… surprised to hear the meek conjurer from the Ruby Sea had replaced her cane with a greatsword of all things.”

“It was a huge change but I don’t regret it,” Kaida answered simply.

“Would you ever go back?” G’raha asked.  “To being a healer, I mean.”

“Go back?  To conjury?  I’m out of practice—” Kaida began.

“And so am I, yet here I am,” G’raha pointed out with a grin.

“The big sword certainly gets people to listen more than the wooden stick does,” Kaida huffed and the miqo’te gave a hearty laugh at that.  He squared up to the dummy and prepared for the next shot. 

“In the years I spent on Norvrandt, I trained in a variety of arts,” G’raha said, loosing the next arrow.  “I thought it for the best in order to the protect those who were under my care.”

“But you did not practice archery?” Kaida quirked a brow.

“I thought delving into the arcane would prove more beneficial,” G’raha admitted with a shrug then began to fetch his arrows, pulling each from the dummy with some difficulty.  “Regardless of if that is true, I regret letting my archery skills go to waste.  All knowledge is valuable to some extent, even if some knowledge is more valuable than others.”

“This is a lecture, isn’t it?” Kaida realized.  “About not getting rusty.”

“Hardly.  I should think a Warrior of Light and Darkness need no such lecture, particularly from the newest Scion of the Seventh Dawn,” said the miqo’te with a chuckle.  “But it is something I thought to put in your mind.  You were an incredibly talented conjurer… although I understand your roots are in another art.  Geomancy, I believe?”

“Drawing from water and wind, yes,” Kaida replied.  “It’s certainly related to astrology and conjury… but different, in its own way.”

“I should love to learn it someday,” G’raha said.  “Perhaps you could teach me and… in return, I could show you the basics of archery.”

“I will have to pass on archery,” Kaida said.  “I… tried a bow once.  Almost shot myself in the foot.  Literally.  I think I’ll stick to big swords, though… no, never mind.  Forget I said anything.”

“Oh come now.  I know that look,” G’raha put his arrows into his quiver then folded his arms.  “You’ve an idea.”

“No… no, it’s a stupid idea.  Forget it, G’raha.”

“Out with it, Kaida.  You seldom ever have stupid ideas.”

“Fine.  I did quite like how Lyna fought,” Kaida admitted.  “With the chakrams, I mean.”

“I am certain if you went to the First, she would be more than delighted to train you,” G’raha said.  “But my offer with archery still stands.  Indefinitely, might I add, should you change your mind.”

“Thank you, G’raha… Bah!  Getting lessons from Lyna.  That would be…” Kaida shifted her sitting position, dodging the miqo’te’s eye.  “… Well, I’m sure she’s too busy.  And I likely will be soon.  Something’s bound to come up sooner or later.”

“I believe she would make the time for you,” G’raha said.

“I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“Ah yes, a Warrior of Darkness’s worst fear… the fear of imposing upon another.”

“Such fierce talk from our newbie today!”

“A jest—my apologies.  But truly, Kaida, I… I wish to see you happy.  And if learning from Lyna would do that…”

“I’m happy as-is, G’raha.  It was… just a flight of fancy, really,” Kaida said quickly.  “Don’t dwell on it.  And if you really want to learn geomancy, I can teach you all that I remember.  The version my mother taught was special to our village so it is not quite the kind you may find in places like Doma or Hingashi.  But it served our local mages well enough.”

He smiled at her again, shouldering his bow.  “I would be honored to learn such a sacred art.  Consider me your pupil then.  At your convenience, of course!”

“You may come to regret having me as your teacher, you know.  I don’t go light on the homework,” Kaida smirked at him.

“Oh, I am sure I’ll manage,” G’raha replied with the flick of his tail and the two began back towards the Rising Stones.

Chapter Text

A ball at the end of the Dragonsong War would serve to herald in the new age that had dawned upon Ishgard.  The men and women took the dance floor in brilliantly-hued pairs, swaying to the rhythm from the nearby orchestra.  The beat was lively, the dancers sweeping across the tile floor in clockwork movements.  Despite the celebrations, it felt as though the party was marred by a solemn sense that could not be swayed nor denied.  It was rooted in the very fibers of the gathering; though the war was now over, there would be hardships ahead.  The weight of the dead still burdened them.  Flashy smiles, debonair suits, and ritzy dresses could not change what had to happen in order to get this far.

She thought of Haurchefant for the thousandth time that night, wondering what kind of suit he would have worn.  Wondering how many times he would have asked her to dance with him.  Would he have tried to coordinate an outfit with hers?  She would have liked to think so.

The cocktails burned the back of her throat when she drank them by the fistfuls—unladylike but she was a fucking Warrior of Light.  Who would dare scold her?  Her blade had cut the dark wyrm’s heart from its chest.  No one had the right to judge her for shite.  And when she ruminated on such bitter thoughts, she felt Fray stir from within, giving a nod of approval.  Kaida sighed and placed two empty glasses on a nearby tray, the rush of alcohol heating her face and loosening her shoulders.  She brooded at the sight of the dance floor, praying no one asked her to join in.  She was here as a formality and a formality only. 

“My lady,” came a voice from behind.  Immediately, Kaida wanted to scream.  She did not.  Instead, she turned and saw Aymeric there, donned in a rich azure suit with a sheen about the material that made it seem to glint under the light of the chandelier.  She counted her blessing that it was a familiar face at least.

“Ser Aymeric.”

“I see you have taken a liking to the drinks of the evening.”

“They’re lovely.  Unlike any I have had previously.”

“I am glad that you find them palatable.  Tis a shame you yet sit by the wayside.  The dance floor would welcome you wholeheartedly.  Unless perchance you seek a partner…?”

If it had been Haurchefant, she would have said yes in a heartbeat.  Aymeric’s hopeful blue eyes shone down upon her in a way that made her feel twisted by guilt.  She wanted to say no.  Some things were still too fresh and she was worried she was too tipsy to dance.  But then she chided herself for being so stubborn.  At the end of it all, the dead were dead.  No amount of wishing could change the truth… and though this was not her idea of a good time, she knew better than to spoil the night.  And Aymeric had done no harm in asking.  She had just been made bitter by recent events.

Eyes were crawling upon her and Aymeric.  Eyes that were certainly trying to pry into what was going on.  The Raen cleared her throat. 

“I seek no one,” Kaida began lightly, a small smile on her lips.  “But I can oblige the Lord Commander if he wishes.”

“I would be honored,” came his reply as he took her hand and the both of them stepped out onto the floor.

Chapter Text

Meeting with Cid and going over the battle strategy for engaging the next Weapon was something that Kaida had thought would be easy.  She had long settled into the mantle of a Warrior of Light, knowing full well the weight of her actions.  They had constructed plans to go from Terncliff to the distant Castrum Marinum.  She would be riding with Gaius there, infiltrating the castrum and taking out the Weapon with ease.  It sounded simple on paper but things were never that simple.  And as Cid went over the castrum’s blueprints with her, the Raen found her gaze wandering about the hanger they had converted into their base of operations.  They rested upon where Gaius was ordering the engineers around, words muffled by the distance.  

She thought it was amusing, the way he waltzed about with such an air of authority that no one questioned the orders he dealt out.  It was as though he could never shake being a legatus, no matter how hard he tried to sit passively in the background.  His gruff tones rang against the metal walls, the concerned slant of his brows somehow invoking a pleasant hum in her chest.  At first, she thought it a lingering remnant of their rivalry—that feeling of joy at seeing him disgruntled.  But the more she mused over it, the more she began to realize something else was at play… though what it was, she could not quite say.

“… Kaida?  Kaida, are you listening?” Cid asked and the Raen looked over at him.

“Oh,” she commented, blinking in surprise. “Yes.”

“Gaius will know how to get you into the castrum,” Cid said.  “It’s imperative you go straight to this sector, where the Weapon is likely stored.  We will have our linkpearls if you should need backup.”

“It is appreciated, Cid.”

“You seem distracted.  Is all well?”

“Y-yes…”

“Good.  Well, you’ll be leaving in a bell.  Make sure you come back in one piece, all right?”

“I’ll do my best.”

The meeting was adjourned soon after and when the Raen went back to look at where Gaius had once been standing, she found that he had walked off.  A small frown crossed her lips and she gave a small sigh.  He was a fascinating thing, that Gaius Baelsar.  Alluring, she admitted to herself, not quite willing to call it what it was.  The mission ahead of them would be grim.  Infiltrating a castrum was no easy feat and yet… a part of her felt a thrill at the idea of working alongside him so closely.  A thrill she kept silent.

Chapter Text

Radiance.  Absolute radiance.  His head was a throne to halos, his back a host to a flurry of white-feathered wings, arching around his body as it shed its clothes.  Skin white as snow against the orange-red sands of Amh Araeng, gilded with patterns that ran his body like veins.  Toes bending, breaking as the talons were born from each nail, sharpened to grotesque scythes.  His nose and mouth grew, extending into a pearlescent snout topped with a golden, canine nose.  A pained scream choked out as his face reformed itself.  Teeth bore from under his upper lip, curved, saliva dripping in thick waterfalls with the hint of foam at the corners.  Rabid and feral, the amber of his irises snuffing out the dark of his once-keen pupils.  As his bones snapped and cracked into their new form, he rose, a mane of gold and pristine white billowing down his back like clouds.  The wings beat in an unsteady rhythm that found itself with each stroke.

When he looked at her, she saw not a semblance of the man she had once known—not even in his eyes, which seemed dead and alien.  She scrambled back, hand brushing against his discarded gunblade, her fingers wrapping about its hilt instinctively… sorrowfully.  Tears streamed down either sides of her face in disbelief, splashing onto the sands, wetting them for the first time in years.   

"No… no…” whispered Kaida in a quivering tone. 

Gaius Baelsar was a Black Wolf no more.  He opened his paw-like hands, fingers jutting in every direction then snapping back into place.  A growl purred from him and he flexed his new digits, nail tips clicking together.  His jaws parted, revealing rows of teeth that hungered for her.  He tried to speak but gagged on the words, his vocal cords mutilated by his transformation.  She wondered if there remained any part left of him, begging her to flee.  To slay him.  He was a beast now.  In heart and body.  And she was a knight… it was her duty to… to…

Don’t make me… don’t make me do this…” she pleaded with him.  Her grip on Heirsbane was weak at best, an ilm from breaking in her grief.  She told herself to lift the blade and fire.  He had shown her how to use it once… it had been a sunny day in the Shroud.  Just the two of them.  The forest smelled fresh from the rain.  Droplets of dew dripped among the trees… He had looked at her and she remembered the huskiness in his tone when he had said he loved her.

Kaida bit her lip as the tears grew in her eyes like crystalline flowers, blossoming in her despair.  She could not do it.  She could not bear it.  If she had ever had strength, it fled her.  If she had ever had resolve, it died when he had.  All she could do was stare at him as he made his approached on a hunched back.  Foam and spittle sloshed the ground with the movement of his needy jaws.  She told herself to point at his heart and to fire.  It was what he would have wanted.  It was what he would have told her to do.

The sword fell from her hand.  Too much.  It was all too much.  How could anyone expect her to go on after this?  The world had already taken so much.  It had already demanded so much.  She did not want to be selfless this one time—this final time. 

“Kaida!” she heard Alisaie scream.  Trying to warn her away from her imminent doom.

There were footsteps in the distance, roaring over the sand.  Kaida looked back at the Scions as they ran for her.  Y’shtola.  Thancred.  Alisaie.  Alphinaud.  Urianger.  Ryne.  They wanted so desperately to save her.  Their Warrior of Light.  Their Weapon of…

She smiled.  Tears dripped down onto her armor.  Fray was right in the end.  So much burden.  And now it all seemed for nothing.  It was time to stop.  Time to rest. 

“Kaida, run!” Alisaie cried out.

“No,” Kaida said to her, voice astonishingly clear despite the terror in her. 

The sineater was almost to her and she knew that.  She prayed he was gentle in those last few moments.  He had always been gentle with her, treating her like a fragile rose made of glass.  Kaida looked up at him as he loomed over her.  For a moment, she thought there was a softness in his expression.  Maybe he recognized her.  Maybe he recognized her yielding to him and understood.  Some journeys were too exhausting.  And all things came to an end eventually. 

Nevertheless, the wolfish sineater granted to her the very thing she wished for.  His maw opened and she closed her eyes as it came over her head and body.  A lethal embrace.

Kaida had not realized she was sobbing when she woke up.  Her hands had found firm grips upon Gaius somewhere in the fit of her dream, clutching onto him as though she were lost at sea.  The act had woken him as well and he wrestled with her, the darkness obscuring much of their surroundings.  Kaida’s cries weakened her, blurring her already dim vision further.  The next thing she knew, she was on her back with him above her, panting.  The feel of him there was enough to calm her from her terror and she looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Woman,” Gaius spat after a moment.  “… have I truly offended you so?”

She could not reply.  She could only cry harder as he held her down, his bewilderment softening.  It was rare that Kaida cried so openly.  Her hands, pinned to the mattress, still yearned for him and he let her up to hug him.  She shuddered, pressing her face into his bare chest.  His hand cupped the back of her head and Kaida tried to calm herself by listening to the cadence of his heartbeat.  It helped somewhat and she realized it had all been but a horrible, horrible dream.  The Light had long been banished now.  The sineaters had fallen.  She was back on the Source.  She was safe.

“… What was it?” he whispered after a long quiet.

“You died,” she said to him, not sure she could go into the details.

He sighed and held her for a bit longer.  And then Kaida broke away, rubbing her eyes, which had grown sore from her crying.  She swayed slightly, her balance disturbed by her frail emotional state.  The Raen rubbed her forehead, trying to massage away the ill feelings. 

“And here I was thinking you were still upset over me stealing the sheets,” Gaius remarked.        

“If only that were the case…” Kaida sniffled but managed a chuckle.  “I’m… I’m sorry for waking you…”

“Clearly, I needed to be awake,” Gaius shook his head, hand under her chin.  “Tea?”

“What’s the hour?”

“Five bells into the new day.”

“We should go back to sleep…”

“Truly, are you able to sleep now?”

“Yes.”

“Look me in the eye when you answer.”

“… Fine… You win.”

They both rose from bed.  Gaius fetched his shirt off the ground and pulled it on sleepily before departing for the kitchen to make tea.  Kaida wrapped herself in a blanket over her own sleeping wear and followed him.  She sat humbly at the table, still fighting off the last bits of misery as he selected the tea leaves from their pantry for the morning’s brew.  Kaida sniffled, looking at the dark window and feeling silly for waking the both of them over something that had never happened.

As the water boiled, Gaius approached her from behind, resting both hands upon her shoulders.  His fingers dug into her pleasurably, massaging some of the tension that had taken up residence in her back.  She sighed out some of it, the rims of her vision still teary.  But the gesture was welcome and she savored his touch as he rubbed her back and shoulders, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

“Have you any duties today?” he asked her softly.

“A... a meeting with the Scions.”

“I will tell them you are ill.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You will be tired in a few hours, after the sun has risen.  And you need to rest.”

Slipping further into her blanket shell, she looked up at him miserably. “But it’s an important meeting.”

“You tell me this each day and yet I think your Scions merely fond of the sound of their own voices.  I mean that amiably, of course,” Gaius snorted.

“A bold claim coming from Garlemald’s finest monologuer,” Kaida retorted and the Black Wolf quirked a brow at her.

“Such cheek,” he mused.  “And what, pray tell, is covered in these all-important meetings that demands your attention so?”

He had her at that and he damn well knew it.  Gaius nodded when Kaida realized she was robbed of an excuse and the Black Wolf went back into the kitchen to ready them both cups of tea.  When he returned, he set a cup in front of her, the steam washing over her face pleasantly.  He sat his own at the seat opposite of hers and sat.

“You will take the day off,” Gaius grunted.

“Is that an order?” Kaida asked.

“Yes.”

“You mean to order a Warrior of Light around?”

“Yes.”

“… You say it so casually.”

“Sometimes, you need to be ordered around.”

Kaida blinked, taken aback by his bluntness.  But she smiled and lowered her gaze to the cup of tea sitting before her.  “I feel like I should protest.”

“And I feel as though you are working yourself towards your own demise,” Gaius chided.

“You sound like Tataru.”

“The… lalafellin lass?”

“Yes.  Are you familiar with her?” Kaida asked before remembering that once Tataru had been taken captive by his legion all those years ago.  She winced slightly.  “… Never mind.”

“Estinien tells me that she and the Baldesion girl are vicious trackers, talented enough to put the most skilled fugitive to the test.  I find the notion at odds with my past encounter with her,” Gaius admitted.  “But I place my trust in Estinien’s judgment.  Mostly..”

Kaida laughed, testing her tea with a sip.  After some thought, the Raen conceded.  “… Fine.  If you insist that I spend the day resting, I suppose I’ll listen to you.  Just this once, however.”

“I am honored that you find merit in my counsel,” Gaius said with a hint of a tease in his voice.

“Just remember this day when I accuse you of overworking yourself,” Kaida said to him.

“I shall,” he vowed with a smile playing about his lips.