Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Y'kahel never planned for a life without the Scions. 

Whenever she imagined some foe or cowardly plot managing to disband their merry band of elite fighters, she always assumed it would claim her life in the process. Failing that, she figured she would be hunting, fighting or getting revenge one way or another for her lost family. Whoever or whatever was responsible would be her sole focus and after that, well... she never really planned that far. 

She never planned for the Scions to disband willingly. 

Sure, everyone was still alive and well. Sure, this was but a pretense, and they didn't plan to truly stay apart forever. Sure, the reasons made sense enough. Tataru even kept a room in the Rising Stones for her to crash in, should the need arise. But... is home still home when the family no longer resides in it? 

Their strange goodbyes weighed heavy on her heart. She didn't quite understand how they all managed to look happy, when it was clear that none of them was. They all invoked some kind of task, research or grand mission. As if it helped make sense of their separation. As if that would justify not seeking each other's company. 

When her turn to speak of future plans came, a weight in her throat prevented her from opening her mouth. A smile and a look to the distance was all she could manage. 

They didn't pry further. Maybe they were too used to her stoicism to imagine her going on a tirade. Or maybe, just maybe, the way she struggled to keep her ears upright, and the soft trashing of her tail gave her away. Maybe they simply decided not to press her. It wouldn't do to make the Warrior of Light cry in public now, would it? 

Then the time came when they could no longer delay. One by one, they simply... left. 

At the beginning, she tried to keep herself occupied. She investigated a strange crystal that appeared in Labyrinthos, hunted some rare beasts for the gleaners of Sharlayan, took on any and all small requests for petty gils. She used the distraction to train some martial or magical arts she neglected during the Final Days. Her masters would be ashamed of her sloppy form, but it proved more than enough to triumph over a few wild beasts and the occasional bandit foolish enough to face her.

The distractions worked well enough for a time. Busy work during the day, a pouch full of gil for her sweat, a nice meal and a couple of pints to spend it all away and she would be ready to crash in an inn bed to begin anew in the morrow. 

It was Count Edmont de Fortemps, of all people, that roused her from her sad routine.

The day had started long ago for those who didn't have the privilege of being the Warrior of Light. At that particular moment in time, Y'kahel was in a bed at the Forgotten Knight, barely waking up and already fighting a killer headache caused entirely by her last night excessed. She was weighing her options, trying to remember if she had the herbs to craft a potion to ease her pain, or at the very least help her pass out again. Her herbal musings abruptly stopped when she felt something shift next to her.

She startled, eyes shooting wide open. Fully alert and ready to fight when her eyes landed on the still sleeping figure clinging to her arm.

It was an elezen lady. Her long pitch-black hair draped messily over the pillow, as if just released from a bun. If Y'kahel had to guess –and she had to– she would give her bedmate about the same age as her, going toward her thirtieth summer. Her lips, cornered by small dimples, parted slightly to let escape a soft snore.

Cute, Y'kahel brain helpfully supplied, along with blurry flashes from the night they shared. Those memories, added to the fact that they were both still naked, destroyed any hope that the circumstances were innocent.

"Shit", the miqo'te cursed softly, dread seeping into her back. She immediately began her escape, ignoring the thumping in her head. 

After all, the Warrior of Light was nothing if not able to work with a splitting headache. 

She managed to escape the bed and find her underwear, lost in between what looked like a house servant uniform. She was starting to believe she would make it outside without waking up her bunkmate when she stumbled upon a piece of her own armor. She winced. The sheets ruffled while she kept her eyes pinned to the ground.

"You're leaving?" Y'kahel didn't need to make eye contact to hear the hurt in the sleepy voice. She nodded and started to pick up the pieces of her armor in a hurry.

"I, uh… got called out for help." Gods help her, she didn't even sound credible to her own ears.

"I see…"

Y'kahel couldn't resist and looked up, only to be met by vibrant green eyes filled by a betrayal softened by resignation.

She dropped the pretense and her ears pinned themselves on her head. She tried to appear as apologetic as she felt ashamed. "I am sorry…"

"Ilmane.", interrupted the elezen. Y'kahel just blinked at her in confusion.

"My name is Ilmane. I figure you don't remember?"

That made Y'kahel pause.

"... No I didn't." She admitted softly. "It's a beautiful name."

Ilmane scoffed. "You told me as much yesterday. It's nice to see that not all of your words were drunken lies destined to bring me to bed."

Shame flooded Y'kahel, ever stronger. "I truly am sorry. It is not in my habits to share a bed with someone I just met. I did not mean to mislead you." 

The elezen face softened a little, and she started to look just a touch mocking. "Worry not. I did not expect you to bring me to a priest after one single night, however pleasant you might have found it."

Y'kahel felt her eyes shift and her face heat up. From the few memories she had, the night had been pleasant indeed.

"With that said, I didn’t expect you to try and scamper away like a thief."

Y’kahel went right back to wincing. "I am sorry… I guess I … I panicked.”

The elezen let out a dry laugh. "Ah, the Warrior of Light, Savior of Ishgard … And the entire star, if the rumors have to be believed! Panicking because of an unforeseen bedmate! Now I have heard everything.”

Frustration started to find a way right next to shame in said Warrior's heart. “I did not mean to make you feel used. I am–"

“Will I see you again?"

Taken aback by the interruption, Y’kahel ponders a few seconds before shaking her head. "I do not know. Once again, I am sorry, but I cannot promise that we will see each other again." 

Ilmane's face closed a bit at that answer. “So I shall commit this memory of a night with the Warrior of Light and continue on with my life.”

It was petty and unneeded. Y'kahel knew that she was making up excuses to herself, but still she let irritation drip from her words and retorted curtly. “Y’kahel.” 

“... What ?”

“My name is Y’kahel, I figure you don’t remember.”

Stunned, the elezen didn't respond. Y'kahel grabbed her axe and the last piece of her armor, and made for the door. Before leaving, she turned back. “I’ve said ‘sorry’ a lot, because I am. But I forgot to say ‘thank you’. Thank you, Ilmane, for your company tonight. I think…" She dropped the facade of irritation. "I think I needed it.”

The door closed behind her before the other woman could answer.

Y’kahel escaped in the cold air of Ishgard. She had paid for both the room and for having a breakfast brought to Ilmane. She even tried to buy the discretion of an amused Bamponcet before the innkeeper shook his head and explained in a few words that not a few patrons witnessed her escape from the main room with a flushed Ilmane in tow. Keeping his own mouth shut would not help the matter much.

A particularly aggressive gust of wind made her shiver, and she was contemplating teleporting directly to the warmth of Radz-at-Han when a familiar voice hailed her.

"My dear Y'kahel, it is good to see you!"

She groaned internally. She felt ashamed and dirty, and positive she looked the part. She was definitely not ready to face the former Count de Fortemps, the closest thing she had to an adoptive father, and a dear friend. For a small blessing the wind blew in her direction, so at least she could reasonably hope that he wouldn't be able to add smell to the already complete picture of a shameful drunk she painted.

"Sir, it is good indeed. What are you doing here this morning?"

If he noticed her state, or the mention of morning when noon was so close, he tactfully decided not to broach the subject.

"My experience is required in a small matter pertaining to Camp Dragonhead. The current Count being otherwise occupied, I was heading to the Congregation when I chanced upon you. What brings you to our good Ishgard?"

"I completed a hunt for a dangerous beast yesterday" And for once, that was the truth. "Some kind of giant plant given life? I don't really want to know, if I must be honest. I was about to leave for Radz-at-Han."

Edmont looked just a bit hurt by her tale. "You do know you always have a room in the Fortemps manor? We would have been glad to spare you a night at the Inn."

"Yes, I…" Y'kahel stammered. She desperately wanted to flee. She was hurting him, she had to leave. "It was late and I thought…"

"Alphinaud and Alisae would have been glad to see you."

Confusion must have shown on her face. "They have been here for a couple of days. They haven't said so in so many words, but from the way they talk, I can guarantee that they miss you."

She paused. The Scions disbanded, why would they...? Hurt, confusion and stubbornness fought in her heart, wanting for him both to go away and continue.

And continue he did. "If your business at Radz-at-Han lets you free before the end of the day, would you join us for dinner? I can assure you that your presence would be most welcome."

"I…yes." Y'kahel said, before thinking. Edmont's face lit up in a polite yet sincere smile.

"Good! I'll tell our culinarian to prepare that stew you loved so much the first time you ate with us. But now, do not let me keep you. I assume you still have much to do."

"Right, no rest for the righteous indeed!" she said with a forced smile.

He chuckled softly and waved at her while going back toward the Congregation, leaving her confused and shivering still in the street.

A sneeze roused her from her stupor, and with no better idea of what to do, she started to cast her teleport spell to Radz-at-Han.

Just before the spell was completed, the door of the Forgotten Knight opened. She just had the time to turn her head and meet Ilmane's eyes before the world compressed and faded from her eyes.

Chapter Text

Y'kahel wasn't quite sure whether she liked Radz-at-Han or not.

On one hand the sight, smells and sounds were incredible. Everywhere the eyes landed, there was another facet to this city that transpired joy and love. The adults worked and traded and laughed with an energy with no equal. The children played freely, under the amused gaze of the Radiant Guard posted around the city. It was, by all measures, a burstly city full of life. 

On the other hand, the sights were dizzying, the smells intoxicating, the sheer volume of human interactions both sincere and forced, exhausting. It was far from the restful place Y'kahel longed to be at this exact moment in time.

She didn't even know why she teleported here, aside from making true of her words to the former Count de Fortemps!

Well, at least she was no longer cold. 

Now that this urgency was taken care of, her body made sure to loudly remind her that she had nothing solid to eat since the night before. Ears pinned to the skull after a few gazes turned her way at the sound, she made her way to the restaurant.

Traversing the shop-filled streets, she was reminded of their first coming in the city Thancred, Urianger, Estinien and her. Though it was in much more dire circumstances, she couldn't help but feel a pang of misplaced nostalgia. She always loved working with the Scions. The sense of belonging and meaning never felt stronger than when they were using their complementary skills to figure out a way out of every problem before them. But now they were split away, each into their own corner of the world, until duty inevitably called again.

Come to think of it, didn't Estinien mention a mission for Vrthra's benefit? She wondered what matter of request the Great Wyrm had for her Dragoon friend. No doubt it had something to do with big smart lizards and the future of their cohabitation with the mortal races. There was a time when she would have been anxious to let Estinien handle diplomacy with the dragons, lest the talks end in some sort of bloodshed. Their latest adventures together proved to her –to everyone– that the elezen was truly a changed man. 

Although, not in all aspects. She had not heard of him the last few weeks, ever since their goodbyes in front of the Rising Stones. He was notably difficult to keep track of. not that she had tried to, she had to admit. It wouldn't surprise her to learn that Vrthra's mission brought him to the other side of the star.

"Well, hello."

… or he could simply be sitting in front of what looked like a royal feast, in the same restaurant she found herself wandering into.

Surprise had her sputtering. "W-What are you doing here?!" 

He shrugged, unconcerned. "Vrthra has not deigned to grace me with an audience still. It seems like the Sahtrap's life is a busy one.

"Not that I'm complaining!" he continued, raising his glass to gesture at the food before him. "Being treated as a prince in the meantime sure has benefits."

Y'kahel belly grumbled softly at the sight and smells of the different dishes. Estinien smirked. "I'm pretty positive I won't be able to finish this meal by my lonesome. You're welcome to join me, if you wish."

Y'kahel sat in a daze, unsure of why the presence of her companion troubled her so. Nothing had been quite normal since this morning. She attempted to find some sense of normalcy in the food and idle chatter.

"So you've been here all this time?"

"That depends." He answered, delighting in her continuing confusion. 

"If you mean at this very table, then no. If you mean Radz-at-Han, yes." He pointedly ignored her glare. "Why would I not stay? I am needed nowhere and they seem to have decided to buy my patience with a treatment benefiting a king!"

She chuckled at the idea. "You're acting more and more like a lizard, resting lazily in the sun and only moving to fill your belly. Be careful, wings might spawn from your back again." It was his turn to glare at her, now. Rarely did she use her wits against him, the other Scions made for much easier targets usually. He wouldn't let her keep the proverbial upper hand any longer.

"Along with luxurious meals, I have been provided with luxurious quarters. Quarters that contain, amongst other things, a luxurious bath. You may want to use it once you've finished eating my meal." 

Mirth forgotten, shame flooded her once again. She had almost forgotten her state and the reasons that brought her here. "I'm not… I…"

She simply decided to stop talking, opting instead to fill her mouth with an obscene amount of meat. She would have liked to be able to remember her last night misstep with simple embarrassment, but the memory of the pain in Ilmane's eyes burned her heart. 

Alcohol aiding, it had been easy to justify her actions to herself. She was willing. Yes she was. Both parties were consenting, that wasn't the issue. I told no lie. Only omitted some parts of the story. I promised nothing. But didn't clarify misunderstandings either. 

She saw the way the tipsy elezen looked at her, with admiration and not a little desire. She saw the opportunity for pleasure and pursued it, used her reputation to seduce her target while conscientiously omitting that she had no desire to pursue anything beyond the night. She paid no mind to the consequences of her desires and hurt someone in the process. 

She didn't think that shame could hurt and yet… here she was.

Perceiving her internal turmoil, mirth abated in Estinien's eyes, leaving room for quiet concern. He didn't want to hurt her, but doubted that apologies would help her much. True to himself, he decided to simply say nothing and continued to eat as if nothing happened. 

Silence reigned as the two warriors ate, one lost in her thoughts, the other observing quietly. An idea crossed the dragoon's mind when his eyes landed on the disproportionate yet deeply familiar axe resting against the wall.

"Before you bathe, would you care for a bout of sparring? It has been a while since we last had the occasion."

Indeed, their last bout had been a long time ago. At the time, they were en route to query the aid of Hraesvelgr in the war against Nidhogg. The Dragoon came to her when they were preparing for the night. They were not yet friends at the time, and she couldn't place his intentions, guarded as he was. Was it a test of her skill? A way to signify his disdain toward her growing friendship with Ysayle? A simple way to keep their skills honed during the journey, as he had claimed?

It mattered not. Y'kahel had been happy to accept the challenge and prove to him, three times over, that she was as capable a warrior as him, if not more. 

Now, he offered the challenge with the obvious intent of distracting her from whatever was plaguing her. She smiled softly at his clumsy attempt at subtlety, but graciously accepted it.

"Sure! If it's a rematch you want, I'll give you one. Want me to bind an arm behind the back to give you a chance?"

His smile turned predatory when they started the ages-old dance of catcalls and intimidation that preceded every two friends' sparring matches. 

"Ah! As if you have any chance of hitting me with this heap of metal you call a weapon."

"Oh, you mean the weapon that served to end Zodiark himself?" She didn't talk about the Endsinger. Or Venat. Or Zenos. She didn't want to brag about those victories on her belt. She wasn't ready to.

He laughed. "If I must trust your recounting of the events, Zodiark size and lack of appendages made for a hard target to miss. You may be in trouble against a livelier opponent. One such as me, for example." 

"Oh, you're right, I should get the weapon I used against the Dravanians out of storage. Do you remember? It's the one I used to defeat Nidhogg. Twice? "

That last barb hit Estinien a bit harder than she meant to, but it barely displayed in his eyes before he opted to deviate from the subject.

"Why do you even lug that thing around?" He asked, fake vindication failing to mask genuine curiosity. "I've seen you train in much subtler and deadlier martial or magical arts. I even recall a time when you studied Sharlayan astrology, with unmitigated success. And yet, every time the stakes rise, you insist on forgoing any matter of delicacy and decide to use the heaviest axe you can get your hands on. Why?"

Y'kahel turned to look with at her weapon, forged in the fires of the Bozjan front. The choice always felt natural to her, unquestionable, but she rarely paused to formulate why that was.

"I think it's because… it's simpler."

He huffed in disbelief and amusement, prompting her to elaborate.

"No, really! I mean it!"

Now that she had started, the words flowed freely, forming in her mouth as if the truth had always been there, simply waiting to get out.

"I love studying new arts, learning their technicalities and subtleties. I always gain something that I can incorporate into my battle style. However, when the stakes rise, as you just said… I cannot trust myself to display sufficient mastery, reliably enough, in the heat of action.

"If I strike with a doman blade just a few ilm shy of my target, I'd fail to hurt my opponent, risk breaking my weapon and I might even hurt myself in the process. If I take a hit when I'm trying to cast a spell, my focus is lost and I must start again from the beginning. With my axe, if I miss my target by a few ilm, my opponent still has a few dozen ponze of metal coming their way. If I take a hit, the inertia lets me finish my strike. 

"To fight using other martial arts, I would need to fall to the back line, let others take the brunt of our enemies' aggression while I focus on the proper form. It's not a trade off I am willing to make."

He pondered her answer for a few seconds.

"What about the Gunblade arts of Thancred? I once heard him say that he adopted the weapon to protect his child. Or simply a shield, along with a simple sword, as G'raha used a few times? If your concern is the safety of your comrades, those seem much better at achieving your goal."

She drank from her goblet, wondering how to properly convey her thought process.

"Have you ever met a prestidigitator?"

The question took Estinien by surprise. "The acrobats and street-performers claiming to do magic without any aetherial help? Yes, I've seen a few in the streets of Ishgard. They don't tend to attract a big crowd given the lack of grandiosity of their performances, but they are surprisingly persistent in their art. What does that have to do with this?"

"I've traveled along a few of them, way back then. Before I even met the Scions. One of the key elements of their trick is the art of distraction. When they show you something with a great deal of flair, when they make a point of displaying a part of their process, they do it with the express intention of luring your gaze away from the actual manipulation that is taking place in front of you. I am somewhat emulating that principle in my fighting style.

“Shields and gunblades might be better at directly protecting oneself and one's charge. But they also tend to be much more obvious in that regard. I found that brandishing a huge axe, shouting on top of my lungs and delivering a few well-placed strikes using said axe tend to place me pretty high in my opponents' list of "things to take care of", without being too obvious that I am mainly the distraction. That way, my allies tend to stop being bothered and have free reign to display their martial prowess. Once that's done, all that's left is to survive the incoming assault, and continue pommeling my opponent's face." 

Estinien didn’t really expect such an analysis when he asked his question. He imagined an old story at best, a simple shrug at worst, not… this. He was reminded of the ferocity the Warrior displayed in battle. A seemingly reckless abandon that only a great deal of self-restraint could channel toward their enemies. Was this simply an act, a trick to distract their opponents?

He had… difficulties to reconcile with the notion. When he saw her fighting, the Dragoon was always reminded of the way the soul of the former Great Wyrm agitated inside of him in battle. Her rightful fury always looked genuine to his eyes. Maybe she was a better actress than she let on. Or maybe she didn't have to act much.

Y'kahel finally shut her mouth, a bit embarrassed to have shared as much. She didn’t expect to have that much of an answer to his seemingly simple question, but there was some part of the truth she still didn’t want to share. Her answer was true, but incomplete.

She never talked much with the Scions about the thing Curious George called her Inner Beast. It felt too personal, to… undefinable to share with her friends, and overall not worth the worry it would have inevitably caused them. She never had much trouble to direct it away from her allies, after all.

And yet, she couldn’t deny there was something there. It didn’t feel very much alive and she would be hard pressed to describe it, but she couldn’t deny it. Her latest adventure made her wonder ifit had something to do with Dynamis, or Akasa as the locals called it. Maybe, when she focused her aether on the battle, her intense emotions were free to use the dynamis inside of her, to help herself?

She couldn’t be certain unless she subjected herself to the scrutinizing gaze of Y’shtola or some random Sharlayan scholar, and she was adamant she didn’t want that. In the meantime, she was happy to let it stay a mystery. As long as it helped her protect her friends and her star…

She shook herself out of her introspection.

“Well, if you’ve finished eating your weight in spicy food, let’s get to it? I hope you don’t mind if I let myself inside of your quarter to take a bath while you occupy the infirmary?”

Estinien smirked with a bit of disbelief at the effrontery of his friend, but silently grabbed his lance standing against the stony wall.

When all was said and done, he didn’t really need to go to the infirmary.

He still felt a bit tender in both his flesh and his pride, however.

Chapter Text

Y'kahel returned to Ishgard feeling much better than when she left.

The competitive part of her deeply enjoyed her admittedly hard-won victory over Estinien. She enjoyed the win for itself, of course, but it tasted all the better when her opponent pushed her to her limits. Zenos may have been a homicidal maniac, but he wasn't wrong on that particular subject.

Sparring with a friend also helped. She had missed him, and seeing him hold his own against her had filled her with a strange kind of pride.

After her duel, she had spent another couple hours helping in Thavnair with what she liked to call "pest control" before it was finally time to leave for the Fortemps Manor. Not before accepting Estinien's offer of a well-earned bath, of course.

Now that she felt a bit more like herself, she was actually looking forward to the dinner. Fortemps' culinarians never disappointed and she was impatient to know of the Twins' adventures in Garlemald. Even the prospect of Emmanellain's company seemed enjoyable in her mind's eye.

The icy winds of Ishgard, in stark contrast with the climate of Radz-at-Han, helped her temper her enthusiasm. By the time she arrived at the door of the Fortemps manor, she was shivering too hard to care about the way the guard straightened up, as new, impressionable recruits are wont to do.

The Warrior of Light had gotten used to the way her reputation preceded her a long time ago.

Upon entering the main room, the heat of the fireplace was almost as welcome as the sight of the people already enjoying it.

"Y'kahel!" As soon as they heard her armor rattle, Alisae and Alphinaud both turned to welcome her, genuine happiness painted on their faces. They called her name almost simultaneously.

Y'kahel always found funny the way both of the twins were equally as insecure in showing their emotion, yet hid it in two starkly different ways.

Alphinaud's smile was soft and elegant, distinctive of the way the young diplomat always tried to appear reserved and composed. He was betrayed by his eyes, shining with genuine affection.

On the contrary, a bright toothy grin split Alisae's face. In a strange way, the show of exuberance was designed to hide how deeply she truly cared. Hiding a sincere smile under a brighter smile was so characteristic of Alisae, Y'kahel couldn't help but let out a laugh.

She was truly glad to see them again. During their adventure together, she learned to love them both. Their kindness was only surpassed by their drive to do good and their loyalty to the idea of a better world. Still, despite the trust she learned to place in their capabilities, she couldn't help but feel a little more protective of them than of the others. They felt to her like the younger sibling she probably had, once. Before the Calamity stripped her of the luxury of remembering them.

"It's good to see you both! How have you been?" She grinned easily, dispersing her dark thoughts with practiced ease.

"We've been keeping busy." Alphinaud answered first, as usual. "Reconstruction still hasn't started and yet there is already so much to do. Communities need to be built again, and immediate needs must be addressed as they arise. Progress is slow, slower than we expected. Yet we have to be patient, lest we steal from Garleans the right to rebuild their home."

Y'kahel nodded. Garleans did have much to grieve for, and being handed salvation on a plate didn't seem like the best of ideas. She opted to deviate the subject slightly, lest it fell on subjects too heavy. She didn't feel up for a sincere debate right now. "Since you're so busy, what brings you two to Ishgard? Looking to escape the cold? I dare say you could have chosen a better destination."

"Nay." Denied the young elezen, smiling gracefully at Y'kahel poor attempt at humor. "Our visit is of logistical nature. We simply came to negotiate a trade of supplies with the Skysteel Manufactory. There is much and more to repair, and most of the machinery has been destroyed or tampered with during the civil war."

"Quite ironic, wouldn't you say?" Intervened Alisae gleefully. "That Magitek scavenged from the battlefield and disassembled by Coerthan's engineers should one day return to Garlemald as traded goods."

"Ironic indeed." Alphinaud answered, clearly not sharing his sister's amusement at the situation. "Let us hope this bloodied past does not present an obstacle to our negotiations."

Alisae managed to make a sigh sound energetic. "You worry too much. Have you forgotten about Cid's letter of recommendation? I'd bet they will scramble to meet our needs, provided our terms are reasonable."

Once again happily taking the role of silent spectator, Y'kahel observed the siblings banter and argue. The scene was deeply familiar, but something felt off to her, though she couldn't place it. It was nothing nefarious, but something in their dynamic felt different than usual, in a way she couldn't place. It aroused her curiosity.

She was interrupted in her musing by the entrance of a house servant. "Dinner will be served shortly. If you would follow me?"

Upon realising her presence, the servant visibly startled. Odd. I'm sure we crossed paths in this very manor before. What's wrong with everyone today? She pondered idly, before casting aside her worries and following him to the alluring scents of dinner.

When they arrived at the dining hall, the former and present Count de Fortemps were discussing in hushed tones. They stopped and turned to greet their guests as the door opened, but their reaction was just a moment too slow to escape the notice of the three former Scions.

Anxiety rose in Y'kahel's belly as Alphinaud led the charge. "Greetings, Count Artoirel, Sir Edmond. Is aught the matter?"

I'll have to ask him how he manages to sound concerned, official and inquisitive all at the same time. Y'kahel mused. He's truly turning into a dangerously competent diplomat.

Alas, it was not Edmond's first foray into politics. He merely smiled warmly, and reassured them. "Greetings, all of you, it is a pleasure to have you share this meal with us. Please, do not be concerned. We were discussing matters of the House de Fortemps. You do not need to trouble yourself with our struggles."

Alphinaud conceded with a nod. The request for privacy was clear enough not to be challenged. "The pleasure is shared once again. Will Emmanellain join us tonight?"

"He should already be here." Artoirel signed, visibly annoyed. "But let us not waste a warm meal on his account. He should not tarry much longer."

The dinner was a very pleasant affair. The culinarians outdid themselves and conversation flowed easily among the Leuveilleurs and their host. Y'kahel, as usual, was perfectly content to fall back into the background and listen to the lively banter.

It gave her ample room to think and observe, and she finally managed to place what rubbed her the wrong way into the Leveilleur twins dynamic. Alisae seemed in jovial spirits, which wasn't new in itself, but it seemed a bit too much, and rather unrelated with the current situation or their subject of conversation. She seemed a bit distracted.

Alphinaud, on the other hand, surprised Y'kahel. She didn't remember him ever displaying negative feelings against his sister. When he disagreed openly with her, he still kept an understanding of her reasons and never held it against her when their ideals clashed.
But now, although faint, Y'kahel could sense that something annoyed him. The more the dinner progressed, the more she was persuaded that it was his sister's unconditional joviality that rubbed him the wrong way.
It was all very subtle. If the Warrior of Light and Darkness wasn't so used to observing her companions' interactions in silence, it would probably have escaped her. She doubted that Alisae was even aware of her brother's annoyance, hidden as it was.

She had just arrived at this conclusion when Emmanellain finally entered the room, ghosted as usual by young Honoroit.

"Pray forgive my lateness! I was kept back by an insufferable boar from House Dzemael. He would not stop gloating about the "pitiful state" of our High House, and "how much we must have fallen that our protegee would simply-OUCH!?!"

Y'kahel blinked twice. Surely Honoroit would not dare strike his master, would he? The young pageboy looked like the very picture of innocence. Yet, she was positive that she just saw him drive two fierceful fingers right under Emmanellain's ribs. What is happening here?

Emmanellain didn't seem to understand either. "Owww" he whined "What was that for?"
Count Edmond cleared his throat disapprovingly. "Emmanellain, please! Do not embarrass us further in front of our esteemed guests!"
"Guests? Who…?" Started the young lord, before meeting Y'kahel's eyes. "Ah! Yes, it's uh… It is always a pleasure to see you again." Cutting his stammering short, he sat in his chair and began wolfing down his probably-cold soup, making a point of keeping his eyes on his plate.

The silence was deafening, cut only by the clicking of spoon and slurping of Emmanellain.

An unfamiliar dread started to creep up Y'kahel's back. She was used to larger-than-life threats to her friends and to the world. This was not it. This was personal, she was directly involved and she didn't know why yet. Her mind was racing and running in circles at the same time, trying to make sense of everything. Her hands started to tremble ever-so-slightly. What are trying to hide the Fortemps? Suddenly, she noticed that her vision had started to blur on the edges. It wasn't like the Echo, where pain and drowsiness gave place to a vision in a manner of seconds. No, something was making her lose focus. Her mind filled with flashbacks of the fateful banquet that led her and two of her companions into Ishgard for the first time, and she could find only one explanation. Poison.

How much of the wine did she consume tonight? It didn't seem much, but she wasn't there when the bottle was uncorked. Who opened it? Was it a new servant? Who was the target, this time? Were the Fortremps potential victims, or were they part of the plot?

The Twins! I need to bring them to safety! She turned to see them both watch her with worry, articulating as if they were speaking to her. But she couldn't hear them. What was making so loud a noise?

No time to think. She stood up, grabbed them both by the arm and made for the door, ignoring their visible protestations. The Rising Stone is an obvious choice, we can't go there. But where, then?

Alphinaud was still talking, calling her name, she didn't hear his words exactly, but he seemed distraught and confused.

Alisae was trying to force herself out of Y'kahel grip. She was a skilled combat mage, but had nothing on the axe-wielding Warrior of Light in term of pure strength. When it became clear that she couldn't hope to free herself from the iron clutch, she changed strategy. She decided to simply plant herself in the way, a mix of indignation and worry painted on her face.

Y'kahel almost tripped on her. "Please Alisae, we need to go, you're not safe, that wine was…" Why did her own voice felt so distant?

It was the look in Alisae's eyes that gave Y'kahel pause. The softness. Or was it pity? When did Alisae ever look at her this way? She stilled, focusing on listening, trying to hear despite the rush of blood filling her ears.

When the young elezen voice pierced the fog, the softness was hidden behind a veil of firmness. "-ahel. Y'kahel please, listen to me! Calm down, please. Are you with me?"

Dazed, the miqo'te could only nod. Alisae's face settled in a calm relief, and she dared not look away, anchoring herself to the face of her friend.

"That's better. Please listen to me: you are safe. Nobody is plotting to harm us. Nobody spiced our drinks. There is no immediate threat. Do you understand?"

How can she be sure? Y'kahel shook her head, determined, but Alisae wasn't done. "Please! Please listen to me! We all drank from the bottle. Were it poisoned, we would have felt it too. Okay?"

Then why? What is happening? Nevertheless, the logic made sense despite her panic "Good. Now, would you mind releasing us?" Alisae gave a pained smirk. "I have to say, you have quite a vicious grip."

Startled, Y'kahel forced her hands open abruptly, with an almost imperceptible "sorry". Alisae frowned. "None of that, would you? Now please follow me, we'll go someplace quieter." She took her still-shaking hand and held it tightly.

Alphinaud announced, fire barely hidden in his voice, that they were bringing her in her chambers, and that they were not to be disturbed. Count Edmond acquiesced in a pained voice that tore at Y'kahel's heart.

She dared not look back, and simply followed Alisae, tears slowly filling her eyes.

Chapter Text

"Hot chocolate, if you're feeling like it."

Alphinaud announced himself softly, before pushing the door to Y'kahel's room bearing a platter of three steaming mugs. The smell brought bittersweet memories to her mind. She accepted the offering with a nod and as close as a smile as she could manage.

The drink was made to perfection, with chocolate just dark enough to cut through the sweetness. It was made to warm the body and the soul alike. 

Not much had been spoken since the twins brought Y'kahel to her designated room in the Fortemps manor. She was already silently sobbing when they sat her down on her bed and hadn't left her side while tears still flowed from her eyes. It was only when sobs gave way to sniffles that Alphinaud rose up saying "I'll be right back." 

Alisae kept to her side, embracing her shoulder, keeping her grounded. Y'kahel idly stroke her arm, trying to show through this simple gesture that her friend's closeness was very much welcome. How did she deserve such dedication she did not know, but were she not emotionally exhausted, she would surely burst from love and gratefulness. Just as she would die of shame.

She still didn't understand where the panic came from. Why it flooded her so, when there was no reason to. She hoped that her undeserved suspicion over the Fortemps' hospitality remained hidden during her fit. She could not bear the thought of hurting them when they had always been so reliable and sincere in their help and affection.

She was wrestled from her musings by Alisae's voice. "A gil for your thoughts?" 

Did her voice sound almost… timid?

Y'kahel smiled softly but shook her head, choosing to deflect. "I am afraid my rates are much higher, Miss." The roughness in her voice didn't surprise her, but gods did she sounded on the verge of breaking down again! 

She couldn't have that. She took a deep inspiration. Straightened her back. Steeled herself and her voice, and hoped against all odds that it would suffice.

"Okay, I'm good. Sorry if I worried you. I lacked sleep and I think the wine took root faster than I anticipated. I should not have reacted so harshly I…" She stopped, confused.

Why are they looking at me like that, like I'm… hurting them? What did I…?

When Alisae spoke, all barriers had been laid down, and pretense forfeited. "Please. Please, do not keep us away. We are here for you…" The sincerity, sharp as a nail, pierced through her barriers, deflating her.

Her defenses broken, she could no longer help it. Her admission, much harsher than she meant, came as a whisper. "But you weren't..." 

"What?" Disbelief, hurt. Gods, she was hurting them. It was petty, and selfish, and… liberating…

"You weren't there. None of you were. You all left." 

Only silence answered. Both the twins were looking at her slacked-mouth, confusion writ plain in their eyes. So she pressed on, unrelenting, to avoid stopping and never speaking up again.

"I thought that after… Meteion we could all… settle a bit. Continue working of course but… together. Go home to the Rising Stones at the end of the day and for once. For once! Not have to think about the fate of the world! Just… just enjoy our time together. Before the next hurdle comes. Because it'll come! It'll come and… and we'll gather again. And now I hate it, because I find myself… longing… for it. For a threat and a task larger than any of us. So that we have no choice but to regroup and finally be together again. And. And I hate it! I hate thinking like that! But… but I don't know what to do!"

Ah. So there were still some tears in me. I wonder if I ever cried so hard, before the Calamity.

Alisae went right back to hug her, digging at the crook of her neck with her face. Alphinaud had opted to grab her hand in both of his, making no effort to hide his own pain and tears.

"I had… We… had no idea you felt that way."

"When all is good, I don't know what to do. I'm useless without you… Just a good fighter and a known figure, always welcome at the table of people I never met, so they can ask for petty services or thank me for deeds they have heard only from third-hand accounts at best. And at the same time the people I want around the table are scattered in all directions… Why? Why couldn't we just… stay? "

The twins didn't answer. Couldn't answer? 

So they simply stayed like this for a while. Hugging, recomforting each others. Waiting for everyone to calm down, to settle. 

The half-empty cups of hot chocolate waited, slowly cooling, on the bedrest. In the night, a bird of prey cried as it begun hunting.

And with the light of the candle slowly swizzling, they all fell asleep.

"Come back with us."

For the second day in a row, Y'kahel had woken up next to an Elezen. Two Elezens, in fact. The circumstances had been very different, however. 

They were in the process of freshening up and preparing for the day when Alisae made the proposition. 

"Come back with us, when we return to Garlemald. Don't stay alone."

Alphinaud kept silent, for once. Approving by his mutism his sister's approach.

"Would it not be… cruel? To Garleans? You saw how they felt about me, last time."

"For some yes. But we needn't advertise your presence more than needed. You can help with the escort of the Ilsabard contingent, or something like that." 

Y'kahel thought it over. The proposition did sound appealing. At the very least it would break out from the monotony she fell into. 

"You don't have to, either. You can go help Y'shtola peruse her books, though I would understand why you'd prefer not to. You can see if the students of Baldesion have need of your strong arm, be it to fend off dangers or simply move some heavy relics. Gods know G'raha wouldn't mind."

That last line was said with a smirk that Y'kahel pointedly ignored. She didn't feel like opening this specific can of questions right about now.

"Or catch up with Thancred and Urianger's tribulations. Or Estinien's long awaited days of idleness. My point being: don't stay alone. Although I don't see either one dropping their current occupation, all would welcome your presence with open arms." 

Cleaning her face, Y'kahel had an excuse not to answer immediately. Surely it couldn't be this easy? If her presence was needed, they would have called her. Yet her linkshell had remained desperately silent since their parting.

"I think…" Began Alphinaud, hesitant. "I think we all decided not to call upon you unless absolutely needed. So that you may enjoy a well deserved rest. Nobody realized that in doing so, we would actually isolate you."

Y'kahel trusted her friend's words. Yet a hesitation remained in her heart. Ah, blast it! I'm done being mopey.  

She splashed cold water onto her face one last time and rose up, resolute. "Alright. I'll follow you both, for now." 

The twins' faces lit up with grins, blinding and sincere. Y'kahel continued before they could think of hugging her once more. She had shed enough tears for a week, at the very least. 

"But first let's see with our hosts what all the fuss was about."

Chapter Text

The domestic that led the three former Scions to the Count's office was tense. So tense, in fact, that Y'kahel thought he would jump if she so much as sneezed. Where she found it worrying and irritating the day before, it brought her some measure of amusement now. She was almost tempted to shout. Just to see how he would react, and bring a bit of levity in the silent walk. 

But when they reached the door and he could finally announce them in, he sounded so relieved that it became too much. She could no longer resist her inner prankster. She patted him on the shoulder, saying "Thanks!" with the most impish smile and gusto she could gather.

His paled so hard and turned tail so fast, she couldn't help but let a laugh escape. It was a bit cruel, admittedly, but she didn't feel too bad. It was his own fault for building such a strange image of her in his own head after all. Her merriment appeared somewhat shared by her companions if she had to believe the shadows of smiles on their lips.

The Counts of Fortemps, actual and former, didn't react to the joke. Though they made an effort to look amenable and welcoming, it was clear there was some tension here, too. 

Y'kahel was tired of this dance. She didn't want to keep walking on eggshells with people she considered like an extended family. So she led the charge, stomping on the figurative eggs: "Sir Edmond, Count Artoirel, good morning! I believe I owe you an apology about the way I left your table yesterday."

Both of the Fortemps eased slightly, visibly relieved about something in her attitude. It was Edmond who answered first, as warm as ever. "Full glad am I to see you in better spirits today. And please, forget about it. We are painfully aware that such… episodes can scarcely be controlled."

"Episodes? What do you mean?" Oh… bless Alphinaud and his pure soul… Despite all the people he met and the hardship he endured, had he never really heard about those panic fits that plagued so many soldiers everywhere?

Artoirel gracefully explained, before Alisae's eye roll could become a snarky remark. "They're named differently in different cultures and depending on the symptoms: shell shocks, fear flashbacks, panic attacks… They haunt a great many soldiers, as well as some who faced traumatic events outside of battle. It is always hard to know what can trigger it."

He designated the crackling wood in the fireplace. "When our Knights come back from fighting, they sometimes suffer from this very same affliction. Their minds react to the slightest stimulus to make them relive their worst experience. Sometimes, something as banal as the light of a candle, the sparks crackling from a chimney or a bird flying overhead can be what push them over the edge."

He turned to Y'kahel. "But you traveled far and wide, fought many foes and faced many trials. So when you displayed such sudden signs of agitation, we couldn't know what triggered it. If it was something with us or this place, please do let us know, that we might avoid repeating the experience for you."

Y'kahel knew of this phenomenon. She met a lot of people struggling with these "attacks'' and often wondered why it was called such. Having lived one of her own now, she understood the feeling.

What terrified her was that this was the first time it ever happened to her. Who knew when she would be subject to one again? Would she be able to defend people if an enemy was to attack during such a phase?

She may have to learn what exactly put her through that, and quickly. She couldn't have such a weakness if she wanted to stay as dependable as ever.

"I am not sure what exactly, but I think… I think it had to do with The Banquet."

The emphasis was clear enough for all to understand exactly what she was referring to. Alisae and Artoirel frowned, but Alphinaud's face was the picture of sudden enlightenment. "I see! So that is why you feared that the wine had been poisoned! When it became clear that something was happening in the shadows, and that people around the table were hiding something from you, your mind went back to those times your drink was spiked?"

The Warrior of Light felt very uncomfortable. Rarely were her personal thoughts and feelings analyzed in public, nor her weakness so readily exposed. On top of that, she still felt some degree of trepidation when mentioning these events. Although it didn't reach the level of the previous day, delving deeper into the subject might prove dangerous.

"Yes." She said, curtly, before diverting the subject. "Now, about this topic that so obviously concerns us but you would keep from us nonetheless?"

And just like that, the Fortemps looked uncomfortable once again. What now?

Y'kahel pressed on. "Does it have to do with the fact that all of your employees act like I'm about to burst at any second?"

Finally, Artoirel relented. "I don't think it's you they fear. However, Ishgard politics have a way of making everyone caught in it miserable. Maybe they think that by avoiding associating with you, they'll avoid some of the fallback."

This gave Y'kahel whiplash. "What? What have I done to deserve such reputation?"

Artoirel cringed, while Edmond did his best not to avoid her eyes. He still let his son answer, however. "We will tell you about it, you deserve that much. However, before I answer your question, I must ask: the topic concerns you specifically, not Lord Alphinaud nor Lady Alisae. You may wish to hear about it without them."

As the twins started moving out, Y'kahel frowned and placed a hand on their shoulders, effectively stopping them in their tracks. "Whatever it may be, they can hear it."

Awkwardness clearly painted on his face, Edmond chimed in to insist. "Are you sure? I believe it may have to do with the… circumstances of our meeting this morning." 

The circumstances of…? We simply crossed paths when I was exiting the inn after… 

Understanding dawned on the Warrior of Light like a cold shower. She felt her face heat up, and hid her eyes with one hand. Oh gods help me. How many people know about this? Artoirel is right, I'll ask the twins to wait outside.

Suddenly a thought popped in her head. She ignored the twins' confused look and asked. "We're set to stay in Ishgard a couple days still. What are the chances they never hear about it? Ever?"

Artoirel caught up quickly, and grimaced. "I fear they are slim." 

Light takes me, I'll never live that down.

To be true, some unexpected amusement bubbled in her heart. Ishgardians and their prudishness, I thought it would be much more terrible. It was more embarrassing than truly grave. Acting overly defeated, Y'kahel sighed, eyes closed and her ears pinned to the back of her head. "Then I prefer that they hear about it here, with me to set the record straight, if need be. Please proceed."

Still looking unsure, Artoirel nodded and cleared his throat. "In the middle of the day yesterday, House Dzemael sent a public missive to us, read aloud in the street before our doorstep for all to hear. I will refrain to detail the policed yet insulting wording, but in substance, it accused House Fortemps of mocking them, by your intermediary. It claimed that your actions insulted and sullied them. They also asked for reparation for their… lost employee."

Confusion and worry were still painted on the twins' faces. Alisae couldn't help but ask. "Did you… did you hurt one of them?" 

The absurdity was too much, Y'kahel burst in laughter, absolutely not helping her own case. "What? No! Far from it! Although I may be hurting a Lord in the near future…"

Ignoring her murderous comment, Alphinaud intervened. "What did you do, then?"

"I simply… spent the night, let's say, yesterday with one of their house servants. This is what it's all about, isn't it?"

Artoirel nodded. The silence was deafening. 

Alphinaud looked shocked. Artoirel looked tired. Edmond looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here, and Alisae looked like it was her birthday. "I am sorry, you what?"

"You heard me, young lady."

Alisae burst in laughter. "Bwahaha! The Warrior of Light, Defender of Ishgard, in trouble because she couldn't keep her pants on. Now I have heard everything!"

Y'kahel threw her friend a glare but in truth, she was glad for the lightheartedness. Even Artoirel had a slight smirk on his face. "I must admit, it is truly ridiculous. All in all, it is no more than a gross way of trying to gain some political influence over us. No matter how dirty the means are." 

"In that case, it's Y'kahel who got dirt-OUCH! Okay, I deserved that one." Alisae mumbled, massaging the back of her head where Y'kahel slapped her.

His sister's antics seemingly served to jostle Alphinaud from the stupor he had been locked in for the past while. He asked the Fortemps. "I still do not understand. How would that deprive them of an employee?"

Edmond sighed. "While we of house Fortemps do not enforce this policy in any way, it is commonly accepted that only unwed and… "pure" ladies are to work for the High Houses of Ishgard. I hear that Y'kahel's… companion has been forced to resign from her duties."

Another silence. Then, glee painted on her face, Alisae turned slowly to face Y'kahel and asked. " Lady?!" Alphinaud, face almost as red as his sister's coat, performed the best imitation of a fish out of water that Y'kahel had ever seen.

Trying her best to ignore them both, she addressed the former Count. "This tradition is stupid. I am glad you abandoned it."

Artoirel nuanced. "While we do not enforce it, it is commonplace for young ladies at our service to resign when they marry. Traditions are hard to leave behind."

"So, what now? I kinda want to grab my axe and go put the fear of gods into the slimeball who thought of using me to hurt you. That being said, I gather you would not appreciate the idea?"

Edmond nodded. "Although I do not doubt for a moment you could do it, it would play right into their hands. They are painting you as a savage that House Fortemps cannot control, so that would only corroborate their claims. Please, let us handle that with the diplomacy we are familiar with." 

"We shall put out a statement." Detailed Artoirel. "Saying that we stand by you and that your personal life is no one's business. Turning back the blame on them for their backwardness in handling that matter and reiterating that House Fortemps no longer abide by these standards. And most importantly, firmly refuting the accusations of you taking advantage of that poor maid."

Blood turned to ice in Y'kahel's veins. "What? They claimed that I forced my way into her bed?"

The accusation would not have cut so deeply if it didn't echo with her own self-doubts. Nevertheless, indignation remained at the forefront. 

"Yes. However I suspect it is a way for the maid to protect herself. Some of the more traditionalists in this city do not take too kindly to such a couple. I don't know what would bother them the most: the fact that she is an Elezen and you are not, the fact that you are of a noble status, by association, and she is not, or the fact that both of you are women. One thing is for sure, the combinaison of the three is not likely to help your case." 

Gods, I hate these people. Why can't they just let us live in peace?

"With that in mind, and once it became clear the story could not be kept secret, she may have decided to throw all the blame on you. That would help her avoid some of the repercussions."

The explanation made sense, and she could hardly blame Ilmane. Devoid of protection from a High House, she was at the mercy of mockeries, or worse, from nosy neighbors and self-righteous zealots. On a purely logical standpoint, it was obvious that Y'kahel would be way less impacted by the consequences, and thus to throw them all at her. 

That didn't mean she had to like it, but she relented nonetheless. "Fine, I'll let you handle this your way. But the next time something like that happens, the responsibles will have to answer directly to me. If they don't want me to throw them into the abyss, they'd better learn to stop using such underhanded tactics to try and hurt my friends." 

Edmond looked visibly relieved. "Do not worry, along with the public statement, we shall send a private letter to Count Dzemael with a much sterner wording. If he wishes to keep his status, he will have no recourse but to drop hostilities and let the matter be forgotten. I thank you for your understanding... and restraint."

After that, Y'kahel let Alphinaud and the Fortemps to discuss the precise wording of their statement. Alisae had to leave to meet a representative of the Skysteel Manufactory, the primary reason for their presence in the city. That let Y'kahel free reign to hunt down Honoroit and ask for his service.

When she finally found him, he was alone at a small table in the kitchen, enjoying a probably well-deserved break from shadowing His Lordling around. Y'kahel felt bad about asking for his help, but knew she could trust him.

"Honoroit?"

He glanced up and, much to Y'kahel's relief, did not startle when he recognised her.

"Mylady, what can I do for you?"

"I am sorry to disturb you during your break, but I would ask for your help… and your discretion."

A nod, attentive.

"First of all, know that I speak not as ward of House Fortemps but as… an acquaintance. As someone who is seeking help. As such, you are free to refuse."

A nod and a frown of confusion.

She slipped a small package in his hand. "Could you pass this package to a certain Ilmane, former housemaid of House Dzemael? I trust you know who I am referring to?"

Understanding, and a nod. 

"If she asks why I did not come myself, tell her that I do not want to make more waves than necessary. For the same reason, I would ask that you observe as much discretion as you can manage. Could you do that for me?"

A nod, resolute. "Certainly, mylady, but it could be a while before I have the opportunity." 

"I trust you, if you didn't manage to pass it on by the end of the week, simply return the package to me and I'll find another way."

The young pageboy bowed. 

"None of that please, it is I who should be bowing for the help you're providing. Thank you, Honoroit"

A smile and a wink.

Y'kahel huffed, impressed as always by his maturity. This boy will go far in life.

A few hours later, Y'kahel and the twins were regrouped around the table in Y'kahel's room. Drinking tea, appraising each other of their progress. Alisae's negotiations for equipment to bring back to Garlemald appeared to have progressed swimmingly. 

All in all, it felt very reminiscent of the rare slow days at the Rising Stones. Y'kahel hadn't felt this serene since for a long while. She couldn't help feeling a bit ridiculous about it, but spending some time with the Leveilleurs did do wonders to her mood.

There was a lull in the conversation. All three of them were lost in thoughts, sipping their tea, when an idea struck Y'kahel. She hid her rising smirk behind her cup and asked. 

"Do you know why all of this tradition of purity is even more stupid than it looks?"

Alisae raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I do. Why?"

Y'kahel waited until Alphinaud brought his cup to his lips before answering. 

"I can assure you, Ilmane was already not a virgin, long before we met!"

The resulting spray of tea and the hysterical laughters that ensued were well worth what little remained of her dignity. 

Chapter Text

Dear Ilmane,

I hope this missive finds you well. I have to admit, the simple fact that it found you at all already serves to assuage some small part of my worries. 

Well… it seems I wasn't quite done saying "sorry", was I? By our meeting, your life has been thrown into disarray and for that, I sincerely apologize. 

I understand if you never want to hear about me again, and so this shall be the last time I try to reach you myself.

Attached to this letter, you will find a linkpearl. You can use it to contact me at any time, or throw it into the abyss. Should you prefer a more indirect way, you can give a letter to any post moogle you see around. They should know where to find me.

I worry for your safety and your comfort and I would very much like hearing from you to make sure you are safe. But I do not write simply to help myself sleep at night. I come to you offering aid. 

The least I can do after putting you in such a situation is help you get out of it. Should you require any kind of help, be it to ensure your safety and the safety of your close ones, to find a new employment or simply a pouch of gils to help you start anew, do reach for me. I will help as much as I can.

That is all. Please take care of yourself.

Respectfully,

Y'kahel

Ilmane crumpled the paper in her hand, looking absentmindedly at the small linkpearl. The distorted image of her mother, ruffling around in the small kitchen, reflected on the cloudy surface. 

She straightened the letter, then read it again. When she was done, she stood up, pocketed the linkpearl and burned the paper in the fireplace. 

"So, what did she want?" Despite turning her back, the voice of the older woman was clear and steady. Ilmane could still hear a bit of worry in it. 

Lost in thought, she didn't answer.

Her mother turned to face her. "Oy, Il', I'm talking to you!"

"Hmm?"

"What did she want? She got the gall to… to… and then send a brat to ask for reparation? We can't afford to prepare a gift to appease her!" Indignation shared in equal parts with worry in her voice. When Ilmane failed to answer, the rambling continued,  gaining in intensity by the second.

"Oh Fury! Why did she have to go and do that to you! I always said that it wasn't good, giving so much credit to a stranger. "Savior of Ishgard", as if! She showed up when the Azure Dragoon got the wyrm all weak and dying I say! Then she acts around like she's nobility or something. I heard the older Count Fortemps had a bastard with a domestic. Maybe they all got this kinda taste in their House? Then again, 'tis not like you have a chance of carrying her bastard. Why can't she forget you and leave us to live our life? Unless… you sure you don't remember a thing? You sure she's not hiding a little soldier in her pants?"

This startled Ilmane out of her thoughts. "What? No! … I mean, I don't think… I would have known."

"Yeah I guess. So what then? Not like she expects money from us either?" Then, over her shoulder. "Set up the table, your dad should come home soon, he'll want to eat."

Ilmane started moving, the gesture mechanical. Placing the plates on the small wooden table, she considered her words. "She… didn't ask for reparation. She apologized for… everything."

The older woman scoffed, unconvinced. "That's the lords, alright. Do whatever they want, apologize later. They're always after something, you just know it.

That's not it , thought Ilmane. But she couldn't say it. Instead, she deflected. "Hm hm. Excuse me, I think I'll go take a nap."

"What? But, the dinner?"

"Not hungry right now, I'll warm up a portion later."

The younger Elezen escaped before her mother could intervene again. Questions and feelings were bubbling inside, each one contradicting the others. She needed some time to think.

The night had started typically enough. A… friend…? Colleague…? One of the other housemaids she enjoyed talking to…? Inviting her out at the inn to celebrate her recent promotion. 

The mood in the tavern was one of merriment, of bustle and friendship born in the work and honed around an ale. Ilmane liked this kind of night, for their ability to make everyone seemingly equal and sharing. The old soldier cheering at the younger artisan attempting a handstand with three pints down the stomach. The bold stableman failing to flirt with the waitress, unaware of the smell he still bore. The house maids, always in packs, letting it loose for the night by competing on the stage of rowdyness with the men around. 

It could feel overwhelming, but Ilmane knew how to counter it. Phase out of the discussions and observe the people around for a while. Then, strike a discussion with one that seemed open to it. The chaos then became a blanket, a veil behind which to hide heartfelt debate and meaningful exchanges. 

That night, her friend has already disappeared, along with almost half of the party she came in at the beginning. There was more strangers than known faces at her table, but the energy still peaked high. Something was bolstering everyone to enjoy the night harder and longer than usual.

The reason became clear enough when the waitress brought another platter full of ale, paid in full by someone. A tall and obviously drunk Hyur called in a boisterous voice: "AND A CHEER FOR THE SAVIOR OF ISHGARD, AND HER GENEROSITY! HURRAH!"

Ilmane spotted her when the cheer erupted. A small Miqo'te with short reddish hair and a small scar on the nose. Well, small by elezen standard. Ilmane wasn't used to seeing Miqo'te around so she couldn't really tell. What she could tell, however, was that the woman at the center of attention wasn't really present, in the moment.

She answered the cheer with one of her own, smiled when people thanked her, none-too-gently rebuffed any man tipsy enough to try and sneak a kiss, all to the delight of everyone around. The whole time, keeping a grin that never reached her eyes. Was it tipsiness? Worry? Vigilance? Something deeper? 

Ilmane couldn't tell, and that intrigued her. What was the Warrior of Light doing in a place like this? She asked for two pints of water and made a beeline to the free chair by the side of the Miqo'te.

"Here, clear water for you. You'll thank me in the morrow."

Surprise painted on her face, the girl turned to face her. When she processed the sentence, a sincerely grateful grin grew on her face. Definitely started to get drunk, I'm glad I didn't arrive too late.

"Thank you, you're… that's lovely. What's your name?"

Did she just…? "I'm Ilmane. And you are?" 

Once again surprise, then gratitude. It was funny to see how easily Ilmane could read her. "Oh I'm… you can call me Y'kahel! Ilmane, Ilmane… that's a beautiful name."

The sentence was so completely sincere it caught Ilmane off-guard. It was like the other woman appraised the name and declared its value matter-of-factly. What a strange woman.

"Thank you. I know who you are, by the way." Clarified Ilmane. "I just never caught your name... Y'kahel, it's beautiful too. And, that's not the kind of name you hear often around here, too."

"Thanks! I chose it myself! It's a Miqo'te name, make sense you're not used to it."

What ? "You… named yourself?"

Y'kahel looked worried then embarrassed, as if she didn't mean to reveal it. "Yeah… I don't remember anything from before the Calamity, so I had to find myself a name." 

Didn't she have anyone to remember her name for her? Maybe she forgot about them too. Or maybe they perished in the Calamity. All in all, that amnesia may be for the better. Blind to Ilmane's musings, the energetic Miqo'te continued. "I struggled at first, my first few names raised quite a few eyebrows, but I finally got it right!"

She seemed so strangely proud, in an almost childish way, Ilmane couldn't help but giggle. Misinterpreting, Y'kahel started to pout half-sincerely and half-playfully, ears folding backward. 

Okay, that's adorable, discovered the elezen She reached for the closest arm, trying to coax her drinking partner out of her bad mood. "Come on, I was not mocking you! Tell me about Miqo'te names!" 

The Warrior tensed slightly upon contact, but didn't pull away. Instead, guided by the liquor, she pressed closer. "Okaaaay, but after that you tell me something of yourself. It's not fair if I am the only one talking!"

Ilmane noded, words lost in her newest discovery. Fury, this girl has muscles! 

"So, there's two kinds of Miqo'te, you know that? I'm Seeker of the Sun, that means I like to sleep at night, and that my name has a particle!" She overplayed the last part, baiting a reaction. Ilmane obliged with the worst overreaction of wonder she could manage, which in turn elicited a giggle from her companion. 

"Particles are usually what denotes the big clan you belong to. Since I don't have a clan, I just chose what sounded nice. Most people don't care anyway. It was kinda awkward when I first met Y'shtola, though."

"Oh, who's that?" 

"She's a … friend, from the Scions. She was… missing, the first time I stayed in Ishgard."  

There was clearly more to the tale than that, but Ilmane didn't want to ruin the mood. "So, what's so great about a particle?" 

Y'kahel perked up again. "Oh, that's great because close friends and family can drop it, it shows when you're close to someone!"

That's it? "So, your name would be… Kahel?"

"Uhhhh... Yes." 

"Do the, what was it again, Scions…? Call you that?"

"N-no! It's for family, very close friends." She took a sip, then continued innocently. "And sometimes lovers."

With the words, the Miqo'te had placed her free hand on top of Ilmane's own. Softly trapping the housemaid's hand between the muscle of her forearm and the calluses of her palm. All-in-all, not very subtle. She is flirting with me, isn't she?  

Before Ilmane could make sure, Y'kahel changed the topic. "Now tell me about yourself! What are you drinking for, tonight?"

And so Ilmane answered. She talked about her job, her colleagues, the petty requests of the Lords. She talked a bit about her parents, getting older but still working all day to get food on the table, her fond memories of childhood with the other children of the district, the panic every time the dragons would attack the city. 

Y'kahel told her about the Scions, how some were close together: Thancred and Minfilia, Urianger and the Twins, Krile and G'raha. "She's the only one to call him "Raha''! I think they consider each other as siblings." 

She explained how they met and became friends with Estinien, and how much Alphinaud looked up to him. All the while, fondness transpired from her voice.

They continued through the evening, focused only on one another. Around them, like a cocoon of privacy, the chaos of discussions and drinks kept going

...

A bell later, Ilmane had started to lose count of the number of drinks she had, or the number of times they had to push back enterprising drunk boys convinced they could woo the Warrior of Light with an overdone pick-up line clumsily delivered.

Y'kahel had just sent back home a boy not even twenty summers past. Emboldened by alcohol, Ilmane baited. "How come you don't think twice before refusing these men's advances?"

Y'kahel turned back, dumbfounded. "This one couldn't be older than Alphie. Could you imagine? That'd be so… awkward!"

Ilmane pressed on. "I was not talking about this one specifically. Surely there were some in the lot who were not bad to look at?"

Y'kahel looked at her pensively, the shadow of a smirk dancing on her lips. "Maybe I'm not interested in any men's advances?" She looked at the bottom of her empty mug of ale before seemingly deciding to throw subtleties out of the window. "Moreover, why would I look at any of the men when I can be looking at you ?"

Electricity pulsed through Ilmane's body, and she grabbed Y'kahel's hand before leaning overly close and whispering. "I think we are of the same mind, you're not half-bad looking yourself… Kahel ."

They locked eyes a moment, desire obvious in both, before Y'kahel leaned back in to answer, whispering still. "Just a touch too early for that, love. However I have a room in this establishment where we could go find a little privacy, if you want. Then, you could call me whatever you want ."

And so they slipped away, hand in hand. Both too drunk to avoid or care about the eyes of those sober enough to start gossiping.

Despite what she told everyone, Ilmane remembered the rest of the night perfectly. The miqo'te had been cuddly, in more ways than one, pampering her and losing herself in her embrace. It had been obvious that she sincerely enjoyed the company.

It only served to increase the pain when she discovered her trying to slip away without a word, the morning after. Had it all been an act? Did she just imagine all that complicity?

Lost in doubts and unanswered questions, she contemplated the linkpearl she had received along with the letter. 

With no real plan in mind, she brought it to her ear, and triggered the spell, starting the communication.

Chapter Text

Curse this blasted city and this blasted weather! I'm not made to function at these temperatures!

Y'kahel didn't dare voice her miscontentement aloud, lest she hurt her hosts. During her initial stay in the city, she learned to love the people and the city. Some of it, at least. However, she could never get used to the climate. She hated feeling cold or damp, and snow, when it was not gently sitting on the ground being beautiful and ethereal, had the vexing tendency of being both. 

Moving hefty crates of material onto an airship with the icy wind blowing had a similar effect. Sweat born from the effort collected onto the layers of fabrics supposed to be isolating her from the cold, negating their effects. The wind then used all of its might to keep said sweat as cold as possible, leaving Y'kahel to suffer in itchy, damp, and half-frozen garments.

But the crates needed moving, so she suffered in silence, heeding Alphinaud's instructions on where to place each box. 

Two full days had passed since she sent Honoroit to carry the package to Ilmane, and she hadn't heard from either in the meantime. The anticipation killed her. She opted to occupy her mind with menial tasks, as she so often defaulted to. The twins' stay in Ishgard was full of said tasks, fortunately. 

As Alisae had predicted, the negotiations with the Skysteel Manufactory went swimmingly, and their workers started preparing the shipment before the end of the first day. Many, many occasions to make oneself useful arose immediately, and Y'kahel jumped on them, feigning blindness to the side eyes pointed her way.

At the end of the day, they all relaxed around the fire in the Fortemps' sitting room. In Y'kahel's mind, it made it all worth it. The warmth was comforting, the tea delicious and she never tired of speaking with the twins and the Fortemps, when they could spare the time.

As always, she was more often than not listening rather than talking but the twins made a conscious effort of trying to get her to talk about herself. Something that, Y'kahel discovered, did not come naturally at all. 

On the second day, she had just answered a couple questions from the twins about her early adventuring days and was back to listening to their banter when suddenly Alisae stopped, turned to face her, and accused. "Hey, you're doing it again!"

Y'kahel blinked, inviting Alisae to elaborate by keeping her silence.

"You're deflecting!" 

"...?"

"Yes you are! I didn't pick up on it before now, but you're always doing that, aren't you?"

Y'kahel was trully lost. "What are you talking about?"

Alisae pressed on, proud as if she unhearted a great mystery. "When you answer, you always ask a question back immediately after! Or you prepare an anecdote you know we'll jump on! That's how you manage to say so little!" 

Alphinaud's look of confusion turned to realization, then worry. "Do you… do you not want to share too much? Are we infringing on your privacy?"

"N-no! I just… that's how I do conversation. Isn't that normal?"

Alphinaud soothe. "It is, I suppose. What Alisae means, I presume, is that we wish to know more about you. You are allowed to talk about yourself more, you know? It won't bother us."

"It's not that I think it will bother you." Liar. "It's just that… I don't have much to say."

"Bullcrap!" Claimed Alisae, energetic yet gentle. "We know close to nothing about you, apart from what we lived together!" 

"I don't know if I have more than that in store, truth be told. You know I don't remember a thing from before the Calamity." 

Always the voice of reason, Alphinaud explained. "Though we will gladly listen to your tales of adventure, before the Scions days, we mean to learn more about you as a person. I have come to realize that while we understood one another, I could not claim to truly know you."

Alisae delivered the coup de grâce . "How come we only learn now that you like girls too? It's not like we would have minded either way."

Y'kahel relented. "Okay, alright, you made your point! Ask away and I shall answer to the best of my capabilities." Then. "Wait, you said…that I liked girls too ?"

Alisae nodded with some measure of giddiness. "Well yeah, I thought it was obvious as I never did much to hide it but… it never really came up either."

Y'kahel laughed. "And you say I am secretive! Come now, tell me all! Did you go out with anyone I know?"

Alisaeeyes shifted. "Not that I can think of. I've never been in a couple long enough to truly matter."

Alphinaud couldn't tolerate this. He chimed in an odd tone. Almost severe, yet cautious. "None you can think of? Never enough to matter? Really? Not even when we were in the First?"

Alisae turned so fast to look daggers at him that Y'kahel thought she might get a whiplash. The twins stared silently at each other, communicating through looks only for a solid minute. Apparently, this was not Alphinaud's place to talk about such things.

Meanwhile, Y'kahel mind was churning. What are they talking about? Maybe he is referring to a crush Alisae had at one point, but who? Once I arrived we were constantly on the move, so it must have been before. But Alisae was staying at the Inn at Journey's Head for a while before I…

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt while dread creeped up her back. "No…?"

Alisae sighed then turned back to her, pain mixed with resignation in her yes. She nodded, but Y'kahel still needed to ask. "Was it… was it Tesleen?"

Alisae nodded again. "It was not much, we were not truly dating or anything but… yeah. We found some comfort together when the days were too hard." 

How can she talk about it so calmly? Y'kahel could barely see through her tears, yet she still managed to grab her friend and hug her fiercely. Alisae reciprocated, her small arms digging viciously in Y'kahel's back, betraying the still vivid pain.

When she spoke, her voice was raspy but much more composed than Y'kahel felt. "I'm okay, now. I've had time to make my peace with it. At the time, though, I only spoke about it with Alphinaud because we had more pressing things to do. And surprisingly, when he is not being a snotty tattletale, he is quite capable of emotional support. It was… I was a wreck."

"Hey! I would have you know that-UMPH!"

Y'kahel had released one hand to grab Alphinaud and pull him into the hug before he could flee. This had the merit of making Alisae giggle. Alphinaud kept defending himself, voice half-muted by Y'kahel's shoulder. "I only spoke about it because it's important to you, Alisae. You need to stop diminishing it to a simple fling without consequences." 

Alisae didn't answer and simply hit her brother softly on the shoulder. She wasn't quite ready to talk about it that openly, it seemed.

They stayed embraced together for a couple instants before gently detangling. Alisae spoke, mirth in her voice. "You know, I never took you for a hugger before."

Y'kahel was about to turn back the subject to Tesleen, but remembered their previous discussion. She still had to force herself to drop the subject, and only managed to when she realized Alisae was trying to change the subject. Alright, I'll give you an out.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like I would hug anyone anywhere anytime? It's a bit embarrassing at first, but I kinda… already crossed that bridge with you two, yesterday, so now you have to suffer through it."

Alphinaud smirked. "Come on, I'm sure you can think of one other who would have been glad for it." 

Who? Ah... Y'kahel cringed. "You're thinking about G'raha, aren't you?"

A nod. "Now I understand that maybe I'm imagining things between the two of you, because of your preferences. Yet I know you are quite close."

Alisae intervened. "Wait. That she likes women doesn't mean she could not like the men as well."

Uneasy, Y'kahel acquiesced. "That would be possible, but… no. I think I know my preferences well by now, but I did wonder for a while. That's not to say I can't appreciate emotional or even physical intimacy with any man, as long as it stays platonic."

She stopped to ponder. Should I talk about that…? Will he be mad that I revealed it? Oh, screw it, I'm sure he won't mind much. Plus, it's funny when he blushes. 

"Funny thing is" she started, slowly, "we did hug for a bit, with G'raha." 

The twins' simultaneous gasp was precious. Y'kahel knew she made the right choice. "Back when we first discovered the Cristal Tower. I liked his spirit and it was obvious he enjoyed my company. I had started to realize I leaned toward girls at that point, but still thought about it as a close friendship of sorts?"

She remembered those days fondly. "We met often in the evening, talking about the day, then our theories for the mysteries of the Tower. He was so excited about it, I loved hearing him speak like I was able to absorb all of what he said.

That's when he proposed we continue our discussions in private. We did… fool around, for a bit, but it quickly became clear that I wasn't enjoying that part. He took it quite gracefully, truth be told. After that, we still met to talk and cuddle, but kept it at that."

Judging by their bulging eyes, the twins could barely believe her tale. Alphinaud was the one to regain his capabilities for speech first. "I never knew. It must have been hard when he decided to seal himself in the Tower."

Y'kahel nodded. There was nothing more to add to that. Fortunately, Alisae chimed in. "What about after the First, when he came back?"

Y'kahel cringed slightly. "I wish it would have been as simple as just going back to the way things were before, but a distance was born. A gap can arise between friends after a couple years, so imagine what it would be like after a hundred…"

Alisae frowned. "On the contrary, he seemed all the more excited to continue adventuring with his hero, to my eye."

"That's the thing, though.《His hero.》 I think the way he idolized me put me off a bit. I think… he realized it, too, and decided to keep a bit more distance from me because of it. To give me space, maybe? I always tried to act naturally with him but I don't… really know how to bridge this distance."

They all stayed silent, pondering the situation. After a short while Alphinaud finally concluded. "So that is why he was so quick to go back to the Baldesion Annex, when we split up."

"Yeah… I need to talk with him, at some point." 

"I think all of us need to talk." Alisae said. "At this point you could call us the Acquaintances of the Seven's Dawn and it would feel more correct."

Alphinaud frowned, defensive. "You're exaggerating, it's not like we don't care for one another." 

"We do, and yet!" Alisae gestured broadly at everything. 

Y'kahel laughed. "Alright kids, enough about my misspent youth, let's talk about you two, found anyone you like lately?" 

Alisae turned to her and spluttered, scrambling to say no, far too fast for it to be natural. Alphinaud just stayed silent, a discreet frown on his brow. Oh?

Feeling a shit-eating grin growing on her face, Y'kahel pressed on. "Come on, out with it Alisae! What's she called?"

"...I don't see what you're talking about." She was as red as her usual jacket.

"It's Flavia, isn't it?" Alphinaud spoke calmly. Too calmly, as if he was hiding something. The way his sister looked at him didn't seem to phase him one bit. 

She finally relented. "Fine! Yes! I admit it, I may have a crush on her. But it's not like anything happened, I don't even know if she'd be open to go out with an elezen. Or even if she's gay!"

"Oh, she is." Alphinaud said, some sadness in his voice. "She told me, when I first started to try and court her."

"You what?!"

Oooooh, so that was it! Everything fell into place in Y'kahel's mind. Alisae unusual giddiness, the way she was looking forward to going back to Garlemald, Aphinaud hidden resentment against his sister. Ouch… Sorry buddy.

Still, she wanted to know more. "So, tell me about her."

Alisae stopped gaping at her brother long enough to form words. "She's a Garlean refugee. She was a student in politics and economics. She was aiming to become an official before… everything went down."

Alphinaud took the relay. "She was of the ones who refused to be handed everything on a platter, she insisted in helping us organize the relief and rescue effort. We spent a lot of time together, thanks to that."

"And then you asked her out, and learned that she liked girls, too? I can't believe you hid that from me!" Indignation was plain in Alisae's voice. 

Alphinaud grimaced, guilt painted clear on his face. "I… I admit I may have rushed in asking her out because I saw the way you looked at her. I wanted to have a chance, at least. Not that I had any illusion."

Torn between being mad at her brother and sympathizing with him, Alisae turned to Y'kahel. "You'll meet her when we go back to Garlemald. She's… she's nice, I promise."

Now it made sense why Alisae was the one to hurry the process along. And why Y'kahel was carrying heavy crates onto an airship of the Ilsabard Contingent. 

Trust these two to develop a crush on the same person. Poor Alphi, I hope you find yourself somebody good too. Pondering the discussion, she continued her toil, ignoring the sweat and the cold. It helped that she had much to think about. 

She was thinking of ways she could start a conversation with G'raha when her linkpearl chimed. She almost dropped the box she was carrying, placing it in the middle of the brig instead. She then waved a sign at a dumbfounded Alphinaud before running away from the bustling docks, searching for somewhere private.

The anticipation caught up with her, and her heart rate had spiked. She answered the communication with an unsteady hand. 

"Hello?"

"Hello hello! It's your favorite receptionist talking!"

Chapter Text

"Hello?"

"Hello hello! It's your favorite receptionist talking!"

The tension in Y'kahel dropped. A mix of relief and… disappointment? washing over her. She tried her best to push it back, hiding it with a smile and a gusto she didn't entirely feel.

"Tataru! How are you? To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you right now?"

"Oh oh oh, someone is chipper today! Did something good happen?"

Tataru seemed to have fallen for it. A tad too much, even, but Y'kahel took it in stride and quipped back.

"Well you see, I just had this call from a dear friend of mine from whom I haven't heard in a while…"

"Hush you! Flattery will get you far, but I know you don't think a word of what you just said!"

By know, Y'kahel smile was genuine. It truly had been too long since she had the occasion to joust verbally with the sharp lalafell that played the role of the Scions' receptionist. 

"Oh woe me and my ungrateful friends! I speak only the truth yet they don't believe my heart belongs to them!" 

"Hmmm? Are you sure your heart is not otherwise occupied?"

Of course… Of course she knows. Why else would she call?  

Y'kahel still decided to play the fool, just in case her deduction was wrong. 

"Alas no, since I have taken the road once more, the night sky and its myriad of stars are my only companions…"

"Hmm hmm. I see. So I guess the rumors I am hearing from Ishgard concern the other Warrior of Light?"

Y'kahel sighed and dropped the pretense. "Alright, you got me. You're well informed, as always. Tell me, what have you heard?"

Dejection must have slipped through her voice. She heard Tataru inhale through her teeth before answering apologetically.

" Ah, I'm sorry, I didn’t think it would be a sore subject. As you have guessed, I have heard some strange rumors coming from Ishgard. 

Apparently, a certain House Dzemael claimed that you have sullied their names by assaulting one of their house maids. That is the part all my sources agree on. 

What they can't seem to decide is what truly happened. Some claim it's all fabrication and that you did absolutely nothing, others claim that you used brute force to kidnap a poor maiden in plain sight . "

Y'kahel sighed, exasparation growing once more. If she hadn't promise the Fortemps not to intervene directly, the lordling who had this brilliant idea to involve her in their nasty manipulations would have been throw into the abyss already. Or at least, dangled above it by the foot until he promised to forgo this kind of tactic.

"Well… I hope I don't need to say it, but while I did share a bed with one of their house servants, it was in mutual consent… If you consider that by virtue of us both being equally drunk, consent was equally given." 

"Oh, pray do not worry! Of that I had no doubt. What I am worried about, however, is that I haven't heard from you since then. Are you alright? What is the situation? How can I help you?"

The questions took Y'kahel by surprise. A pang of regret mixed with a wave of affection in her heart. "Y-yeah, I'm alright, thank you for asking. I gather you are aware of the Leveilleurs' presence? They've been of great support, once they've finished laughing at my misery, in Alisae's case." 

She continued on, telling about the Fortemps' reaction, and the mission she sent Honoroit on. Once she finished her explanation, Tataru was left humming, lost in thoughts.

"So, now, you still haven't heard from Honoroit?"

"No, and knowing the boy, had he any news to share, he would have already. I admit I am quite worried for her safety."

"I could try to reach through my contacts, if you wish? I cannot guarantee anything but more eyes on the case couldn't hurt."

"Hmmm… yes, please. I know it's much to ask but I fear that going and asking around myself would be far from the greatest idea."

"Oh, don't worry about it! What are friends for, if not helping one another in times of need?"

Heart full, Y'kahel smiled before answering. "Thank you so much, Tataru! Now if you would excuse me, I fear that Alphinaud will break his back if I don't go back and carry the heavy crates for him."

"Oh yes, don't let me keep you! You plan to accompany the twins to Garlemald, yes?"

"Precisely. I don't know how long I will stay there but then again, I don't have any other idea."

She couldn't help but let a bit of melancholy slip through her voice and Tataru hummed thoughtfully, but didn't comment. Y'kahel pressed on, hoping to skip the subject.

"Anyway, once the ship is loaded, we will be ready to depart. The take-off is planned for the early hours tomorrow, after a good night of sleep."

"Alright, then! Take care, and come visit me soon! I always keep some black tea for you. The one with almond that you like so much."

Y'kahel smiled softly. "Thank you, Tataru. I promise I will."

The communication stopped and the Warrior of Light went back to load the few remaining crates on board, feeling much warmer than before. 

I need to ask where she procures her tea, the next time we meet.

On the evening of the same day, Alisae, Alphinaud and Y'kahel were eating dinner with the Fortemps Counts.

It was a more casual affair than their first meal of the week together, but still felt a bit ceremonious. It was, after all, their last evening together before the three Scions -former Scions- would fly back to Garlemald and their humanitarian work. The culinarians worked wonders once again, and Y'kahel enjoyed a well-earned meal at the end of the back-breaking day. 

Emmanellain was notably absent, which meant that Y'kahel still hadn't had the occasion to ask Honoroit about the package. She was pondering about the reasons the young boy could fail to deliver the message, trying not to focus on the more dramatic ones, when her linkshell chimed for the second time this day.

The chime surprised her mid-bite and she had to make a conscious effort not to spit it in surprise. Urgency guiding her, she took her leave. "Pray forgive me, I have to accept this communication."

She didn't wait for their confused look to turn into an agreement and left the room, accepting the communication once she was alone in the corridor leading to her door. 

"Hello?" 

A silence answered her.

"...Um, hello?"

"I wasn't sure you would really answer… Hello, Y'kahel."

"Is that… Ilmane?"

"Yes. I got your letter."

"...You called."

"... That I did?"

"I didn't think you would."

Y'kahel was the one who prompted the conversation. She wrote the letter, sent the linkpearl, and spent the last two days distracted by the prospect of Ilmane calling, jumping at any sound reminiscent of the chime of an incoming linkpearl discussion. Still, she could hardly believe it.

"You mentioned it in the letter. Something about casting the pearl into the abyss."

"Ah. Yes…"

She did write that. She hadn't wanted to put any kind of pressure over Ilmane. She would have waited for a long time, had the Elezen decided to ignore her letter.

But now she was talking to her, and Y'kahel didn't know what to say. Her interlocutor was not really helping, either, keeping her silence, seemingly waiting for Y'kahel to start the conversation proper. After a short while, Y'kahel just said the first thing that passed through her head.

"I am so-"

"Don't."

Ilmane's tone was severe, as if holding back anger.

"W-what?"

"Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."

Relief, unbridled and pure. Gratitude. Anger. All melted and jumbled together in Y'kahel's heart. A weight in the throat, Y'kahel managed to answer.

"Are you sure? I- Because of me you… you lost…"

"Aren't you mad at me?"

"...What for?"

"For lying. For pretending I didn't remember the night? For letting people think that you assaulted me."

Y'kahel hesitated. "I… I am. Mad, I mean. But… it's not really directed to you. I am mad because I… you didn't have a choice. Because I know you had to lie to protect yourself. Because I hate that people might think this is the truth, but I can't come out and say it because it would put you in danger.

And… at the same time I cannot help but wonder if there isn't a speck of truth in that narrative."

Y'kahel hadn't meant to pour her heart out like that. Ilmane let a bitter laugh out.  

"Well, see?"

"See what?"

"I'm like you. I am upset, but… we both know it's not our fault." She hummed. "You didn't force me, for the record. You offered, and I accepted. Or I offered, depending on how you want to look at it."

"Oh…" 

"Yes."

"My recollection of the events is… sparse."

"So I gathered."

They spent a moment in silence. 

"I didn't ask, because I fear the answer but… how are you? Are you safe?"

"I am… kind of. I haven't gone outside since the announcement, but I hear my home has been vandalized."

The blood grew icy in Y'kahel veins. 

"What?!" She practically shouted. "Where are you? Who did this?"

"Calm down! I expected it and had already gone to stay with my parents for a while. It was a group of drunkards, if I'm not mistaken. The Hounds caught them red-handed, and I think they even posted someone around since nobody distrubed us here."

The Hounds, the militia of which Hilda the Mongrel was the leader. Now, thanks to Aymeric's intervention, the new face of civil protection for the common folks of Ishgard. One of the most encouraging signs of progress in this city, in Y'kahel's eyes. 

She owed the half-elezen, half-hyur young woman a drink.

"I am glad that you are unharmed. I know I said as much already, in my letter but please. Please, do call for me if you ever find yourself in danger."

"I… will think about it." 

Ilmane seemed hesitant. Y'kahel tried to not let it hurt too much, and changed the subject.

"What do you intend to do, from now on?"

Ilmane let out a bitter laugh.

"I'm not sure. I am fortunate enough that my parents can provide for me for a little while, but that cannot last forever. I may try to find another job in a noble's house but I fail to see who would accept me now. I'll figure something out, right?"

Ilmane was lying. If not to Y'kahel, at least to herself. She did not truly believe she could find employment. But if she decided to deflect the question, Y'kahel would begrudgingly respect it and avoid pressing further. 

"Alright well, if you need something else, know that my door stays open."

"Thanks." 

Another silence. Then:

"You know, I don't regret meeting you. You're kinder than the stories let on."

Some sort of melancholy gripped at Y'kahel throat. A deep sadness, stemming from a longing that couldn't be fulfilled. Shouldn't be fulfilled? She tried to push it back, failing to articulate around the weight in her throat.

"I… Thanks. You are… nice too."

She couldn't keep it on. She needed to leave.

"I am sorry, I need to go now. We're leaving tomorrow for Garlemald. I need to prepare. Goodbye and take care." 

"...Goodbye."

She cut the conversation short, trying to regain her composure before heading back to the others.

She seemed disappointed, again. Sorry, Ilmane…

Ilmane looked at the linkpearl, thoroughly confused.

What was that? Why did she run again? Did I say something wrong?

Through the whole conversation, the Warrior of Light had seemed tormented by regrets. That is why Ilmane had tried to reassure her, and the tentative backfired horribly, for reasons she didn't understand.

She went on to eat dinner, curiosity mixed with concern her heart. 

Chapter Text

Y'kahel's arrival was met with pleasant surprise from the Ilsabard Contingent and, when the word got around that the Warrior of Light was here to help, mixed surprise from the Garleans.

Like the Twins had said, reconstruction of the country hasn't really started yet. The capital city was still as much in ruins as Y'kahel remembered and efforts were still focused on finding and helping survivors. Camp Broken Glass had even kept its role as base of operations, gaining a few new buildings to host the ever growing population. 

A population that, Y'kahel noted, comprised many more Garleans than she remembered. That made sense, of course, but it was still surprising. Although, a bit less unnerving than she expected. The only time she felt some uncomfort was when she came across garlean soldier wearing a uniform. She had spent so long equating this sight with danger that it was hard to relax around them.

This feeling appeared to be reciprocated by the Garleans. From what Y'kahel could observe, only a few of them regularly interacted with the Ilsabard contingent, while the others tended to stay and work together. The Ilsabard contingent seemed content to respect the status-quo. 

"We try not to be too heavy handed in our approach to foster collaboration." Had explained Lucia. "It seems that having some people act as ambassadors is working better to warm people up to our presence than when we tried making contact ourselves." 

Julius was among those ambassadors. While the Garlean army was still in shambles, he worked to organize the remaining soldiers into temporary squads, mixed with Alliance soldiers, to go on relief missions. When Y'kahel crossed his path, he simply nodded awkwardly to acknowledge her presence and carried on with his task, visibly distracted.

Baby steps, I guess.

Despite the gap between them that might never be broken, Y'kahel was relieved to see him moving forward. He had truly been very close to the breaking point, and him finding a new meaning in his life was… weirdly reassuring. 

Maybe I can find some meaning here, too? She thought, before: Gah! Stop that! Stop pitying yourself! You haven't lost your entire country and family, have you? Chin up and stop being embarrassing, for once!

Her inner turmoil was suppressed by the cold weather and the torrent of information she was given to integrate the relief effort. There were a lot of places to know, people to meet and procedures to understand if she was to be of any real use. She was beginning to think she would overload when Alisae stopped before an unassuming warehouse and designated the Garlean woman inside:

"And here you have Flavia, the one responsible for organizing and dispatching day-to-day resources to the refugees." 

Alisae had spoken with an even tone, but Y'kahel recognised the name and discerned the underlying tension in her voice. 

"Should you have an excess of clothes, candles, soap, or anything that could be of use to someone else, please bring it here, she'll figure out how to use it best. Come, let me introduce you. Hey, Flavia!"

The young woman turned toward them with an amenable smile, which only grew when she landed eyes on Alisae. Y'kahel was not used to estimate the age of Garleans but she wouldn't give her above twenty if she had to guess. Her face presented the sharpness of features Y'kahel had come to associate with Garleans but with fuller cheeks than most.  Long wavy brown hairs fell a bit before her face, hiding her third eye behind a fringe. The others were chestnut brown, sparkling with intelligence and clearly analytic. Yet, they looked at Alisae with kindness and -was she imagining it?- a certain fondness. 

"Alisae!" She greeted warmly, depositing the bundle of clothes she had in her hands and making her way toward them. "I didn't know you came back! How did the negotiations go?"

"Without a hitch! I told you it was in the bag." The young elezen bragged. "And don't worry, I just came back, I was just showing Y'kahel around." 

Flavia's eyes landed on the miqo'te. For less than an instant, Y'kahel saw the shadow of something in it. It was quickly hidden behind a warm smile, yet Y'kahel could still feel the weight upon her. 

"So this is the famed Warrior of Light… Alisae told me a lot about you, nice to meet you!" 

Y'kahel accepted the handshake with the distinct impression of passing an inspection.

"That I am. I hope I can be of some use around here."

Flavia simply nodded before turning back to Alisae.

"Textiles are starting to get sparse around here. Clothes, bed linen, blankets… we just have too many people and not enough of it all."

Alisae mind immediately switched to problem-solving. 

"Hmm… we'll need to ask around if anyone used to work in a clothes factory or shop. If we can make it work again that'd be for the best, but we may need to raid the storage in the meantime."

The girls started trading ideas on how to solve the newfound textile crisis, forgetting the purpose of their presence here in the first place. After a short while, Y'kahel simply put her hand on Alisae's shoulder and told her she was leaving to get settled in her quarters.

Alisae answered with a distracted nod and Y'kahel turned back, a strange discomfort settling in her stomach.

One night, almost three weeks after Y'kahel's arrival in Garlemald, she was sorting the findings of the day into the warehouse. They had yet another foray into the capital that failed to produce any meaningful discovery while unearthing distressing memories for everyone involved. She had volunteered herself for the chore, to the relief of the other soldiers, and was looking forward to the menial nature of the task. 

It was a habit she had for as long as she could remember. Organizing whatever she could get her hands on, cleaning every surface. Keeping her hands busy and letting her mind wander sometimes provided her the space to get lost in her own thoughts. She could sort through the noise and find an answer to her current turmoil or predicament. She would finish the chore with a newfound focus and a clearer head, as well as the feeling of a job well done. It would be a true meditative experience.

Other times, like this one, her thoughts would circle endlessly, refusing to get organized. She would shift through all of them, with no way to stop ruminating the same dark ideas over and over again:

She didn't feel right here. Nothing felt right.

She had thought that she would get used to the life of a volunteer quickly enough. That the discomfort she felt would fade with time. But it only accentuated. 

The weather was uncomfortable. Cold, damp, windy. Y'kahel hated it. But she was used to physical unease, she could ignore it.

The relations with the Garleans were uncomfortable. Very few of them dared approach her and she did her best to respect their space, but that didn't help with the awkwardness when they did have to interact. She had very few of them insult her directly, but each and every one of them stung, reminded her of her deeds, reminding her that she was a stranger here. Unwelcome to most, despite the help she brought in securing the camp and mounting rescue missions. Among the few acting seemingly unperturbed by her presence was Flavia. They were far from being friends, but exchanging meaningless banter was still a far cry better than avoiding one another.

The relations with the Ilsabard Contigent were uncomfortable. Nobody quite knew where she stood and how to address her. Whenever they had to order her around, they would not dare to and instead voiced it as requests or suggestions, making her doubt that she understood the assignment. She didn't manage to integrate with the foot soldiers. Every time she spoke they fell silent, intimidated even though they tried to make it look like they weren't.

But worst of all was the growing distance between her and the twins. Their time together in Ishgard felt more and more distant with each passing day. They had shared so much in such a short time! Now, the twins were always busy, running around to help here and there and she could barely speak with them. The few times they managed to sit together, it was obvious they were distracted, mind full of the myriad of ways they could do to help even more. So, Y'kahel fell back, proposing to share dinner less often, trying not to impose.

And to add to it all, every place and every sight reminded her of the tragedies that took place here.

When she looked at the frozen lake, she thought about the sisters they failed to save. No. That they pushed to their deaths.

When she looked at the city, she thought about the Final Days. When Garlemald's sky turned red and cut short the hopes and dreams of safety of so many Thavnairians.

When she looked at the road… or the City… or the ominous Spires of the castle… she was reminded of the day Zenos stole her body. When she almost had to see her body kill one of her friends. She did her best to avoid thinking about it but with limited success. 

She learned to detect the signs of an oncoming panic attack. She learned to breathe deeply, to try and avoid it. She learned when it was better to find an excuse to hide and let it roll over her. She learned to wear a closed helmet, to pretend it was to fend off the cold, and to be silent during her episodes. She didn't know if she was successful or if the other soldiers didn't dare ask why she lagged behind them sometimes. Every attack left her ashamed, guilt ridden and exhausted. Oh so exhausted.

Every day she went to bed in an uncomfortable and cold lodging, amidst strangers, with only one thought in mind:

I want to leave.

But she couldn't. Those people needed help. It didn't matter that she felt like she was barely making a difference. It didn't matter that she'd rather be going against every single primal once again. She promised she would help, she had to. Those people had lost everything, in no small part because of her. How dare she feel that bad when she had it all? How could she give up? What would she say to the twins?

And so she woke the next day, still cold, still tired, but awake to try and make the most of another long and uncomfortable day.

That night, she was once again wrestling with herself. Part of her was trying to find an excuse to leave while the other half was dripping in guilt, telling her that she should want to stay. She was so lost in her own mind that she didn't hear Flavia approach. She hadn't expected anyone to come here at this time of the night. When the young Garlean spoke, Y'kahel jumped, almost dropping the crate she was holding.

"Care for some coff– ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you…"

Y'kahel settled her load on the ground and turned toward the girl presenting an insulated flask. She internally recoiled but forced herself to relax – Stop being paranoid! – and accepted the drink with a polite smile.

"Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be coming here at this hour. What are you doing, being awake this late?"

Flavia smiled and turned to start reordering the things Y'kahel put in the wrong shelf. 

Damn it, I can't even do that right.

"I could ask you the same. I was woken up by natural needs and saw the light in the warehouse. I thought I'd bring coffee to the poor soul working so late."

Y'kahel gulped down a large mouthful, trying not to grimace because of the bitterness.

"Thanks, it's appreciated."

She didn't elaborate on why exactly she was still not sleeping. She was no good liar and the girl didn't deserve to bear her burdens.

Flavia didn't ask either, so they continued working silently for a while. 

Y'kahel wasn't surprised that Flavia offered to help. She had always seen her being helpful and mindful of the plight of others, yet smart, driven and confident enough to not let others take advantage of it. Y'kahel had quickly understood what Alisae saw in her.

Still, it was late, they were almost done with the organization and her limbs started feeling heavy. Relieved that exhaustion caught up with her and that she could finally fall asleep, she opened her mouth to suggest they go back to sleep and finish in the morrow, but Flavia broke the silence first.

"Say, can I ask a question?"

Disconcerted, Y'kahel answered hesitantly.

"Uh, yes?"

"Why have you come to Garlemald?"

She would rather go to sleep than answer that question. Now that tiredness was settling in, the mix of physical effort and coffee created an uncomfortable blend of mushy muscles and a fast heartbeat. She was hoping to lay down and let the dozziness take over.

"Well... to help, I guess?"

Of course that wouldn't be enough. Still facing away from her, Flavia pressed on.

"Yes, but why here? There must be a lot of ways you could help some other nation."

To pay back what I took from you. What Zenos took from you because of me. To find some sense in my life now that the Scions disbanded. To follow the Twins so that I'm no longer alone. To figure out whether this bloody guilt I'm carrying comes from here.

Because I don't know what else to do.

But she couldn't say any of that. Instead, she fought back a yawn and answered:

"I… I think it's because we've been at odds for so long with the Garlean Empire. I want to help you all. Show everyone that it wasn't out of hate for your country that I fought."

Why was it so difficult to move? Every crate felt heavier and more difficult to grasp. Like moving through tar.

"But you still fought."

This gave Y'kahel pause. Was there heat in Flavia's voice or was she simply imagining it?

She tried moving a half-empty ceruleum tank to put up a front, but failed to properly grab the handle. She looked at her hand, confused. She couldn't close them all the way anymore. Her muscles felt stiff, almost frozen.

Is it…? She looked at the coffee flask. No. No no no, stop thinking about it, you'll just trigger another panic. But then what…?

"I'm impressed, you know. That was supposed to paralyze you almost immediately. I figured the coffee would accelerate the reaction, given that your heartbeat would increase, but I might have underestimated you."

Cold dread and disbelief descended upon Y'kahel's back. She turned back to face Flavia, stumbling in the process, leaning on the nearby table to stay upright.

The Garlean girl was no longer pretending to work. She was standing, tense, trembling slightly, fury and pain in her eyes.

In her hand, a large cook's knife.

"W-why?" Y'kahel struggled to articulate.

"Why have you come here? You want to make friends? Or maybe make amends? Do you have the slightest idea how much people here hate you? The Savior of Eorzea ! Ah! I've watched you. A cat with nothing more than brute strength to her name, that's what you are!"

There it was.

The heat. The hate. Stemming from pain.

Flavia's face was contorted, anger and grief fighting for dominance. Somehow, this comforted Y'kahel. Now that she understood the situation, she was in known territory.

"Why?" She asked again, trying to gain some time while failing to find a way out.

"I lost my mother to Anima's tempering. Because of that traitor of Zenos. Because of his obsession for you !"

Flavia spat the words as she stepped toward Y'kahel, grabbing the knife with both hands and raising it unsteadily.

"I lost my father to the civil war. He wasn't a soldier, you know? He was an official, at work when the soldiers stormed his office. He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time."

Y'kahel stepped back, trying desperately to reinvigorate her limbs using aether. Her legs weak, it was all she could do not to collapse on the spot.

"I lost my fiance…" She paused, and Y'kahel watched, captive and captivated both, tears finally forming in the younger girl's eyes. "I lost my fiance at the Praetorium. She was an engineer! She had nothing to do with your war! But you bombed the whole building! You leveled even the barracks! You… you…!"

It wasn't me! She wanted to yell. It was the ascian! I did not kill her!

But at the same time, she did. It was because of her that Lahabrea triggered Ultima, razing the whole place to the ground.

"And now, after everything, when we're just trying to save our nation from total annihilation, you come! Here! Playing dumb! Acting like a hero, coming to save us! As if all of this wasn't your fault!"

It wasn't! I did not want this! It was not my fault! 

…Was it?

She did not have the time to settle her internal debate, Flavia dived forward and plunged the knife handle-deep in her stomach. Despite the adrenaline coursing through Y'kahel's veins, the strike felt like a punch, abdominals contracting on their own. The warrior would have laughed at such a messy strike normally, but with the poison clinging to her limbs, she only managed to grab Flavia's wrist afterward.

The girl struggled a bit before simply releasing her grip on the handle. Once she was no longer trying to remove the knife from the wound, Y'kahel released her and she took off running in the night. 

The world started to blur in Y'kahel's eyes. She needed to act fast. She casted a few of her favorite self-fortifying and regenerative spells. It would only delay the inevitable, but as long as she saw a healer promptly, the wound would not kill her.

Next step was to get to said healer. She made for her linkshell, intending to notify the twins so they could look at her.

They don't deserve that. 

The thought stopped her hand midway. She just knew they wouldn't stop until the truth came to light. And they had enough heartbreak for a life, they didn't deserve to know this side of their friend, their crush. Of the person that, in their eyes, symbolized the hope for a peaceful future with Garlemald.

That excluded Tataru and the Scions too. And most of their allies. Where could she…? 

Maybe…

She reached for her linkpearl. A dozy but wary voice answered.

"Yes?"

"Il-Ilmane?"

"... Yes? Why are you…?"

The miqo'te pressed on, ignoring the confusion in Ilmane's voice, unsure of how long she had.

"Please bring… chirurgeon… to Aetheryte."

"Wh-... Understood."

The elezen's tone had shifted from confused to grave. Relief washed over Y'kahel, and she almost passed out on the spot.

"Don't tell… Fortemps…"

"What the…? ... Alright. I'll be there in a few minutes. Hang on"

"Thanks."

She dropped the communication, grabbed the coffee flask and started the teleportation. She would be lucky if she didn't end in the lifestream because of a messed up spell. 

As the world distorted and faded from her eyes, an impromptu thought intruded in her mind, bringing misplaced relief.

Now I have an excuse to leave.

Chapter Text

There was a cat in Ilmane's bed.

Well, there was a miqo'te in Ilmane's bed. She was named Y'kahel, known as the warrior of light and savior of Ishgard, and she was presently fast asleep, a red-stained bandage aound her midsection.

But there was a cat, too. 

All black fur except for a tiny spec of white under his neck that she knew was there but couldn't see. Because the cat was coiled up, asleep, against Y'kahel's torso. 

Ilmane recognised that cat. He was a stray, roaming around the neighbourhood. She fed him once or twice but he never deigned to sit on her lap. To say that she wasn't feeling just a touch jealous would have been a lie.

"How did you even enter, anyway?" She murmured, not wanting to wake the wounded.

She shook her head, and went to prepare some breakfast. No doubt her unexpected guest would stay asleep for a while, but that didn't stop Ilmane's stomach from growling. Plus, the nurse might enjoy an offering of eggs and bacon when she would come to change the bandage. She deserved at least that much, after the last night.

Ilmane had almost missed the chime of the linkpearl. It had been tucked away in the back of her nighstand's drawer for weeks now. She didn't realize right away what had roused her from her sleep, and almost went right back to bed. Instead, she found herself hammering on the door of the old neighbourhood's nurse, before leading her running to the Aetheryte plaza, anxiety clawing at her belly.

They had found Y'kahel passed out against the Aetheryte, a flask of coffee in the hand and a cooking knife in the stomach. The Aetheryte's tax collector seemed all too relieved to let them handle the situation… once they had covered the fees for Y'kahel.

After they had removed the knife and applied a crude bandage, Ilmane had carried the miqo'te back to her house. She was in warm work clothes and felt very light, without her armor. Frightfully so. The trip still had Ilmane winded, however.

The nurse resumed her work in earnest when Y'kahel had been placed on the bed, only stopping when the first lights of the day appeared in the sky.

"I patched the wound as best as I could and gave her some medicine to avoid infections, but there is not much else I can do. All we can do now is let her rest and pray." She yawned. "She shouldn't wake before us anyway. Now if you don't mind I will try to get some sleep myself."

As she left, she turned back to give some last instructions. 

"If she sweats, that means she has a fever. That's good. That's her body fighting. But keep her head cool. If she's cold… come wake me up, but don't get your hopes up. If she wakes up, make sure she stays lying down. And make her drink a lot of water! That girl has been poisoned. Before she was stabbed, I mean. That kind of rigidity ain't natural. She needs to get it all out of her system."

Poisoned… no wonder. It's hard to imagine the Warrior of Light being bested in combat otherwise.

Ilmane glanced at the metal flask that they had pried from the miqo'te's hand. She hadn't touched it except to smell the content. Who could have done that?

"Don't tell Fortemps." Why? Were they the ones who betrayed her? Until Y'kahel wakes up, she could only guess. But then, why reach for me? Doesn't she have dozens of friends? The… Scions, was it? Maybe she doesn't know who to trust and figured that a nobody like me would never be part of whatever plot she's been the target of.

A plot to take down the Warrior of Light. The perspective was truly dizzying. Still, she was happy Y'kahel trusted her enough to save her life, even if it may have been her last choice. At the very least, she was glad to have been of help.

The meal almost finished cooking, Ilmane went to check on her patient, expecting nothing to have moved. Instead, Y'kahel was awake, looking at the ceiling while idly petting the cat with her closest hand. She turned her head when Ilmane entered, and they both stared blankly at each other for a moment. Y'kahel moved to stand up. It broke Ilmane out of her stupor and she rushed forward.

"Don't move, you idiot!" She helped Y'kahel put another cushion behind her back, but prevented her from moving further.

The cat raised his head and glared, annoyed at the commotion that disturbed his nap. Y'kahel lured him back to sleep with scratches under the chin. They stayed silent for a while, Ilmane kneeled next to the bed, watching the cat settle back before the smell of burning meat reached them. "Oh crap, the food!" 

Ilmane stood abruptly and rushed to the stove, not before pointing an accusatory finger at Y'kahel and ordering: "Don't move. I'll be right back."

Y'kahel let out a laugh. "Don't-" A cough. "Don't worry. I've walked away from worse."

Her voice was coarse, and she seemed to struggle to articulate. Ilmane frowned, far from relieved at the knowledge. "Well, you don't need to, right now, so stay put. Please." 

She returned to the bedroom with a large platter. On it, two plates of eggs and bacon, a loaf of bread, two copper cups and a water jug. "I didn't expect you to wake up so quickly, but I figured you must be hungry. Before that, though…" She filled one cup with water to the brim and handed it to Y'kahel. "The nurse said that you need to drink a lot of water to expunge the poison from your body. Here you go."

The miqo'te accepted the cup and looked into it for a few seconds, an almost-imperceptible cringe on her face. Finally, she sighed and resolved to ask, eyes avoidant: "Could you… could you drink into it? Just a little. I'm sorry…" 

Ah… Right.

"Sure." Ilmane grabbed the cup and gulped down two large mouthfuls before handing it back to Y'kahel.

The miqo'te looked relieved but still downed the drink slowly. Was it because she struggled to, or because she was still hesitant? Ilmane could only guess, but she didn't feel the need to press. When Y'kahel finished the cup, Ilmane grabbed it, filled it back up, drank two large mouthfuls and left it on the platter.

Y'kahel looked at the cup, then at Ilmane, mouth opened as if to say something. Instead, she stared back at her plate and just breathed a soft "Sorry for that."

Ilmane waved a hand at her. "Don't worry about it."

They kept picking at the plates slowly and silently, only disturbed by the cat attempting to steal some bacon. Y'kahel cut a small piece and dangled it over him for a few seconds then threw it upward, smiling at his greedy eyes and acrobatics. When she realized Ilmane was watching her, she blushed slightly and avoided her eyes. "Sorry, I like cats. What's its name?"

Sorry for what? 

"I don't know. He's a stray, I'm not sure he even has one."

Y'kahel hummed, pensive, and gave him another piece of bacon. With one hand occupied by petting, she opted to eat one-handed.

"He seems to like you, too," remarqued Ilmane, "he never lets me pet him." She didn't dare ask if it was because she was a miqo'te, afraid to cause offense.

Y'kahel perked up and held her right hand forward, fingers dangling downward. "Hold your hand like that about halfway toward him. Let him come to you."

Intrigued, Ilmane did as instructed. The cat approached carefully, ears to the side, and started to sniff at her hand.

"At least he doesn't run from you," continued Y'kahel with bated breaths, "Let him smell you, he'll tell you if you can pet him."

He'll tell me? How-  

"Oh!" The cat had stopped sniffing and given a soft head bump to Ilmane's hand, prying the exclamation from her. 

"See?" Y'kahel said, triumphant. "He likes you, too! You can pet him now. Between the ears, or under the chin. He's a cuddler, this one."

She was half-giddy at the prospect and Ilmane couldn't help but let out a laugh. She liked that candid facet to the Warrior of Light.

"That's why I like cats, I think." The warrior continued, unaware. "They're more affectionate than most people realize, but they're also picky. You can't always approach them. If they chose you, you know they feel safe around you."

Ilmane nodded and kept petting the scratchy fur of the cat, delighted at the soft purr emitted. 

Their plates finished and the cat having escaped by the window, Ilmane started to take care of the dishes.

"I gather you no longer stay with your parents?" Asked Y'kahel, out of the blue.

Still avoiding the elephant in the room, I see… noticed Ilmane. Still, she wasn't about to inquire for an answer the other woman was clearly not ready to provide. Instead, she just went along and answered.

"It was always meant to be a temporary measure. The landlord here raised my rent after the first defacing but my new job pays enough that it isn't a problem."

She could almost hear Y’kahel cringe. “The… first defacing? Have there been others?”

“A couple, but nothing more than rotten vegetables or spoiled eggs.” She turned to face Y’kahel. “Stop feeling guilty about that. We went over this, this isn’t your fault.”

“Right…” Answered Y’kahel, avoiding her eyes. “So… you found another job? That’s good!”

“Yep! A small-size armorwares merchant was looking to start selling across several nations and needed someone to be their point of contact in Ishgard. They didn’t care too much about my reputation, but I’m not about to complain.”

Y’kahel had gone silent. Ilmane turned to see what was happening and she saw the miqo’te staring at her, eyes wide.

“What?”

“Is… Is your employer a certain Tataru Taru?”

“Why, yes. Do you know her?”

Y’kahel sighed and pinched her nose. Ilmane felt like it was the first time she saw some sort of irritation in the miqo’te.

“What Tataru might have… failed to mention , is that she used to be part of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

It was Ilmane’s turn to go wide-eyed.

“What…? Tataru? Part of your group of eikon-slayers?”

“Yes. Receptionist, coinkeeper, recruiter and the closest thing we had to an head of intelligence, if you don’t count Thancred.”

“So you’re saying… She knew who I was when I applied?”

“I’m pretty sure she made the connection. After you got fired from your housemaid position, I asked her to see if she could find where you stayed.” She stopped, as if realizing what she just admitted. “Only - only to contact you! I just wanted to make sure you were alright!”

“Hold- Hold on! Calm yourself!”

Y’kahel shut her mouth abruptly, looking not unlike a kid caught red-handed and expecting punishment. Ilmane sighed. “I… Okay, I’m not happy about any of this. But… you didn’t use that information for something other than the letter you sent me, right?” 

Y’kahel shook her head. 

“Right. And you didn’t ask her to keep an eye on me, did you?” 

Another head shake.

“Okay, so… there is still a chance it was a coincidence. If it wasn’t… I might need to look for a new job.”

“She’s not… she’s not a bad person!” Y’kahel rush to the defense of her friend. “She just tends to be… pretty manipulative, sometimes…”

Ilmane hummed, not entirely convinced. “Well, I’ll see what she says when I ask her.”

They fell silent. Ilmane continued to work on the dishes, her mind still reeling a bit at the revelations. She was trying to organize her mind when a thought occurred. She seems to trust Tataru. Why didn’t she call her for help?

She opened her mouth to ask, when someone knocked at the door. Before opening, she put her head in the bedroom to reassure Y’kahel.

“It must be the nurse, coming to check on you. One moment!”

When she opened the door, she found herself face-to-face not with the expected nurse, but with a white-haired, white-eyes, raven-black-clothed miqo’te. Behind her back, a staff taller than she was, which, in Ilmane’s eyes, was not saying too much.

At that moment, two thoughts crossed the elezen’s mind: Who is that? and What’s the deal with cats today?

Before she could vocalize any of them, the miqo’te spoke:


“Good morning. I am Y’shtola Rhul, former Scion of the Seventh Dawn and a friend of Y’kahel. May I see her, please?”

Chapter Text

 “Good morning. I am Y’shtola Rhul, former Scion of the Seventh Dawn and a friend of Y’kahel. May I see her, please?”

Danger alarms started blaring in Ilmane's mind. The woman in front of her may not have drawn her weapon nor uttered any threat, but Ilmane couldn't shake off the feeling that she was dangerous .

How did she know? What do I do?

Amidst her turbulent thoughts, she could only articulate. "I beg your pardon?"

The sorceress reiterated, calmly but with a hint of impatience. "May I enter to see Y'kahel, please? I am worried about her well-being and I wish to talk to her myself."

Worried about her well-being or coming to finish the job? She could not exactly turn to ask Y'kahel herself, lest she blew her cover.

"I'm sorry, but you must have the wrong address, there is nobody of the name Ikaelle here." 

The white – strange – eyes with no pupils shifted to look above Ilmane shoulders, toward the bed's direction. She can't look through walls, stop being silly… Can she?  

Unnerved, Ilmane decided to go on the offensive, raising her tone. "Sorry you had the wrong address, but I will need to ask you to leave. I am meeting a new client today and I cannot be late."

She hoped her voice carried all the way to the bedroom. Maybe Y'kahel could make her escape through the window, despite her injury.

Y'shtola turned back to look at her, and sighed, decidedly irritated. "You called in sick today, pretending to have a sudden bout of fever preventing you from leaving bed. You seem pretty healthy for a feverous woman, but I do see someone with an aether quite similar to that of Y'kahel laying on your bed. Now, let me enter or I will have to do so by force."

Dread creeped up Ilmane's back as the miqo'te unsheathed her weapon. She wasn't brandishing it in a combat stance, yet , but the threat was clear. Ilmane didn't budge despite her hair standing on their end. Instead, she grabbed a knife on the nearby countertop and pointed it forward. "Leave now or I will call for the guards! They patrol nearby all day!" She bluffed. 

Unimpressed, the sorceress raised her staff and-

"Y'shtola!"

Both women jumped, one higher than the other. Y’kahel was leaning on the frame of the door, breathing hard, a pained but smug smile on her lips. "See? I'm alright. Can you stop threatening Ilmane now, please?" 

Her eyes fell onto the knife Ilmane was holding and went wide. Her smile turned into a grimace. “And Ilmane, please… Don’t stab Y’shtola? I promise she’s nicer than you think.”

Acquiescing almost by reflex, Ilmane slowly put back the knife on the counter. Y'shtola didn't even seem to notice, focused as she was on her friend. Lowered shoulders and weapon, relaxed face despite the eyes shifting intently over Y'kahel, a totally different aura emanated from the miqo'te. Outwardly, not much had changed, but Ilmane could feel , almost tangibly, how relieved Y'shtola was at seeing Y'kahel safe and sound.

Well, maybe not that sound, considering the bandage reddening by the second.

Y'shtola sighed and raised her staff. What would have seemed like an aggression mere seconds ago now looked completely non-threatening to Ilmane. Light blue circles appeared under and around Y'kahel, drawing a surprised exclamation from her as she started to levitate toward the bed. "Hey now, what are you doing? I can move by myself, you know!"

"I can see that." Answered Y'shtola, chastising. "I can also see that you should not be moving at all. You could have just yelled."

Y'kahel mumbled something, pouting exaggeratedly.

"What was that?" Asked Y'shtola, a smirk forming on her mouth.

"I tried. It hurt." Y'kahel articulated, as she was delicately deposited upon the bed.

"Then shush. Let me look at your wound."

Ilmane could only follow the two miqo'tes in the bedroom, almost forgetting to close the front door. She watched as Y'shtola hovered her hands above Y'kahel's midsection, healing magick dancing under her fingers, drawing a relieved sigh from the warrior.

Maybe… maybe she's not here to finish the job, after all. 

Ilmane felt stupid from being so paranoïd. In her heart, relief battled with irritation and shame. Before she could pull herself out from the confusion, Y'shtola spoke, still focused on her patient.

"I must apologize for my earlier behavior toward you, Ilmane. I feared for Y'kahel safety, not without cause, as I see, and I ended up threatening the one who cared for her in our absence. I see now that you were as worried as I was for our friend's wellbeing. Thank you."

Ilmane snorted, half in disbelief, and quipped back. "Well, I would say sorry for the knife, too, but… you gave me quite a fright. You're intimidating, you know that?"

Y'shtola let out a laugh but continued healing without any comment.

"Don't worry." Intervened Y'kahel, tone mocking. "You are not the first to succumb to fear while facing the Great Y'shtola Rhul, the Avatar of Destruction itself! Beasts and men alike tremble when she- Oww!"

She covered her ear, just recently flicked by a merciless index. "Hey! Don't hit the wounded!"

"Consider yourself lucky that the Avatar of Destruction deem your deeds unworthy of worse punishments." 

Y'kahel chuckled but dropped the subject, tired of the verbal joust already. "How did you even find me? I didn't… couldn't warn anyone."

"It was mainly an educated guess." Answered Y'shtola. The nonchalance only served to spark Ilmane's irritation. She threatened me over an "educated guess"?!

Y'shtola continued, unaware or unbothered. "First we had the twins warning us of your sudden disappearance from Garlemald. Of course the Ilsabard contingent searched for you everywhere in Garlemald, but it quickly became obvious that you couldn't have gone that far by walking, especially without any of your armor or weapon."

The lights stopped dancing over Y'kahel belly, and Y'shtola started to remove the stained bandage, all the while continuing her story. 

"Then came the question of where to search for you. If you weren't in Garlemald, you could be anywhere you ever attuned to an Aetheryte. Which, by now, covers quite a large area. You didn't answer any of our attempts at contacting you, so we reached out to our allies, and the search began in earnest." 

At those words, Y'kahel blanched and asked. "What do you mean exactly by our allies ?"

Y'shtola smirked. "Our allies. All of them. The Grand Companies are looking around in their jurisdiction, the Radiant Dawn in Radz-at-Han, the word spread to the Far-Eastern Alliance, and so on and so forth. It wouldn't surprise me if Lopporits were actively looking for you on the Moon.

"Of course, we Scions started searching too. I was in Dravania, so I looked around Idyllshire before joining my forces to those of House Fortemps to search in Ishgard." 

At those words, Y'kahel covered her face with her hands and groaned. "Goddess help me."

Seemingly delighted with her effect, Y'shtola unlodged her linkpearl from behind her ear and presented it forward for the wounded. "You might want to contact Tataru. She's the one organizing the search effort."

Immediately, Y'kahel grabbed it and started the communication. "Tataru, it's me, Y'kahel. Yes-Yes, I'm with Y'shtola… Plea-... please call off the search? No… no I-I'll explain later. Yes I'm alright I…"

Y'shtola swiftly snatched the pearl and spoke. "While she is indeed safe and in my company, she is not alright. She has been wounded, and while her injury doesn't require urgent care anymore , I would keep an eye on her still. Would you prepare her chamber? Yes. Yes… thank you, I will tell her."

Y'shtola cut the communication and leveled a look at Y'kahel. "Tataru wishes for you to know that you'll have to endure her wrath, for making her worry so much."

Y'kahel frowned. "I did not ask to be stabbed, I'll have you know."

Ilmane heard the hurt in Y'kahel's voice, and wondered. Would Y'shtola pick up on it? How close were they, really? 

Snark filling her voice, Y'shtola finally asked the question that plagued Ilmane's mind all morning. "Then what happened? Peace time doesn't agree with you, so you go looking for trouble?"

So, either she didn't realize, doesn't care, or doesn't know how to react and default to sarcasm. Great.

"No! I-" Y'kahel started, then stopped. Hesitant, she searched for Ilmane's eyes. 

Why do you look so apologetic? Wondered the elezen, frowning, confused.

Y'kahel continued, hesitantly, maintaining eye contact. "I was… Visiting… Ilmane. But I came across an… altercation. They were drunk and… And I was tired. And I didn't see one of them pull out a knife and…"

You little… don't bring me into your lie! Indignation almost had Ilmane rebutting Y'kahel sharply. Instead, she silently grabbed her hand and started softly rubbing the back of it with her thumb. The motion didn't escape Y'shtola's eyes. 

"Oh!" She exclaimed softly. "That I wasn't aware of." 

She fell back to silence for a little while, pondering the fake revelation. When she spoke, understanding filled her voice. "That explains why Tataru gave me your address. I thought she was being paranoid, suspecting one of her employees over a coincidental sick leave."

Ilmane felt compelled to answer. "It makes me wonder if she pays that much attention to all of her employees' personal lives. Or those of her friends."

Looking at her feet, Y'kahel cleared her throat and changed the subject, addressing Y'shtola. "How did you manage to contact everyone in just the few hours since the morning?"

Y'shtola shook her head. "Oh no, you misunderstood, we've had more than the morrow to panic. We've all been searching the whole night."

Confusion appeared on Y'kahel's face, leading Y'shtola to explain further.

"If I understood correctly, you were reported missing a short while after coming back from a late mission. I think that it was a friend of the twins, a Garlean girl they work with, that warned them of your disappearance. Gavial…? No, Flavia."

Y'kahel's hand tightened from shock around Ilmane's. Her mouth started to pull back into something that might have been a smile, had her eyes not looked so afraid and her teeth showed less. It was obvious enough that Y'shtola noticed it. 

"Is something the matter?" She asked, concern laced in her voice.

"I-uh… I had a sudden pain, sorry about that. Please continue."

Y'shtola hummed, not entirely convinced. She poured some more eather into Y'kahel's wound nonetheless, tring to ease the pain. "Well, I don't have much more to say. The girl warned the twins of your absence early. This, in turn, allowed us to start searching early."

"I see…"

An uncomfortable silence stretched, until Ilmane finally asked. "So… what now?"

"I was of a mind to bring Y'kahel back to the Rising Stone, as I said to Tataru. There, we could more easily take turns watching over her injury."

"There is no need," groaned the wounded.

"Would you rather stay here?" Asked Y'shtola, with all sincerity. 

"Well I…" Y'kahel started, awkwardly, searching for Ilmane's eyes.

Ah! See? Lies beget lies. Ilmane wasn't so incensed or heartless that she would let Y'kahel struggle alone, however. "From what I've seen of the place, you would be more comfortable there than in my old bed." 

"Oh, you've already been there, then. Good." Y'shtola rose to her feet. "It will be quicker that way. Do not worry, I shall cover the teleportation expenses."

"I'm sorry?" Ilmane asked, confusion writ plain on her face.

"When you are both ready, we shall teleport to Mor Dhona. Do not worry about your work, I know your employer well and something tells me she won't hold you to it." Y'shtola said, a smirk on her face.

Trapped in another's lie, Ilmane could only nod. On the bed, Y'kahel avoided both of their eyes in shame.

The preparations went quickly. Y'shtola finished changing Y'kahel's bandage while Ilmane was gathering some clothes for the stay. Once the nurse thanked with a few gils and warned of their absence, they were ready to depart.

Y'shtola started to cast the teleportation spell that would pull them all to Mor Dhona. 

What exactly am I going into? Wondered Ilmane, equal part intrigued and apprehensive. She looked at her small apartment distorting and fading with the distinct impression of being swept along against her will.

Best make the most of the ride, then.

Chapter Text

They arrived with little fanfare in Mor Dhona. Having persuaded, begged , Y'shtola to spare her the embarrassment of being carried upon a stretcher, Y'kahel tried her best to stand upright until she could hide in one of the Rising Stone's rooms.

She answered the multiple greetings with a smile she hoped looked genuine. It wasn't that she didn't like the people of this town. She did. She just wanted to bury herself into a hole at this moment and every handwave reminded her someone was looking at her and could see through her lies. 

It didn't help that her wound reminded her of its presence with each step. She had endured way worse in her adventures, but without the aid of adrenalin and the motivation of a greater cause, it seemed that pain was way harder to bear.

Ilmane was walking beside them, her face neutral and unreadable. Y'kahel didn't know why she played along with her story, but was glad nonetheless. She would need to find a way to let the elezen escape from the lie she trapped her in, so she could go back to her own life.

A pang of sadness pulled at Y'kahel's heart with this thought, but she ignored it. 

They finally arrived at the Rising Stones. It was with a certain trepidation that Y'kahel followed Y'shtola inside. She hadn't come back since the day the Scions were disbanded and although it wasn't that long ago, the sense of nostalgia almost choked her. She wondered how much the interior might have changed.

"Y'kahel!"

A teary bolide collided with her thighs and Y'kahel had to stabilize herself on the door's frame to avoid falling. With a soft 'bonk', Y'shtola's staff fell upon the lalafell’s head. "Tataru! What are you thinking? Tackling the wounded is rarely productive to their recovery.”

“I’m so glad you’re here!” burst Tataru, ignoring Y'shtola and her admonishment. “I was so worried when Y’shtola told me that you have been harmed!”

Y’kahel put a hand between the lalafell’s shoulders, rubbing in circles. “I’m okay now. But I would rather sit than keep discussing standing here."

Releasing her, Tataru led the way inside. "Please, sit at the table with the others, I will prepare some tea!"

'The others', as it turned out, designated four of the former Scions. Estinien, leaning against the counter. Krile was seeted at the counter next to him, talking his ears off until Y'kahel made her entrance. Thancred had approached silently during Tataru's aggression, arms crossed and signature smirk on his lips, Urianger trailing behind him. 

G'raha, Alisae and Alphinaud were notably absent. Y'kahel tried to not let it sting too much and smiled as Thancred hailed her. “It's good to see you, my friend! I thought I would have to pry our receptionist from your legs myself. Now that it is taken care of, I can assist if you need help."

"Ah." Embarrassment growing by the second, Y'kahel shook her head. "I'm alright, thanks in no small part to Y'shtola's ministrations."

The white-haired miqo'te opened her mouth, no doubt to make a snark-filled answer, but was cut short by Ilmane. "You seem to forget the nurse that saved your life in the first place. Trust me, you don't want to get on her bad side." 

There was more snark than heat in her voice, but Y'kahel couldn't help the shame she felt nonetheless. "I'm sorry. Since I was asleep the whole time, I couldn't place a face on her. I ought to go and thank her, when I get the chance."

"I gather you are that 'Ilmane' I have heard about?" questioned Thancred amicably.

Ilmane turned to face him. "That I am. And you are?"

"Thancred, at your service."

Ilmane took the time to commit his face to memory before answering. "Ah yes, the father. Y'kahel told me a bit about you. Nice to meet you!"

The hyur shot an unreadable look at the flushed miqo'te. "She did, uh? And in those terms?"

"Come, let us sit, I'll introduce everyone properly." dodged Y'kahel.

The Rising Stones' main hall hadn't changed at all since she last came. Y'kahel took a seat at the table closest to the bar, trying to hide her grimace of pain at the motion. Everyone gathered around the table, with the exception of Tataru, still preparing the tea and biscuits.

"So, you have already met with Tataru, Y'shtola, and now Thancred." She designated the other lalafell in the group. "Let me introduce you to Krile, of the Students of Baldesion, Urianger, Archon of Sharlayan, and Estinien, former Azure Dragoon of Ishgard. Together, with several others, we used to form the Scions of the Seventh Dawn."

"And, as I think you all know by now, this is Ilmane…" she hesitated, unsure on how to introduce her.

"Former housemaid of House Dzemael, Ishgard." Ilmane intervened, with the tiniest bow. "Now an employee of Miss Tataru over here. I serve as her local representative in my fair city."

Urianger bowed slightly in return. "It is a pleasure to meet the one who cared for our dear friend during her time of need. I presume it is through the intermediary of Tataru that you happened to meet Y'kahel?" 

Ilmane and Y'kahel exchanged a surprised look. They turned to Tataru, coming back from the counter and Y’kahel asked, "Did you not tell them?" 

"I simply said that you were one of my employees and that Y'shtola found Y'kahel in your home." She put a steaming tea mug in front of everyone, and a platter full of biscuits in the middle of the table. "The rest of the story is not mine to tell."

The last line was spoken with a smirk and a wink directed toward Y'kahel.

So she can keep her mouth shut, after all, thought Ilmane. "Actually, it was through the intermediary of Y'kahel that I met with Tataru…" She shot a predatory smile to the lalafell. "... Even though I realized that only recently, hmm?" 

Flustered, the receptionist was trying to come up with an explanation, when Estinien's face lit up. "Hold on. House Dzemael was it? I try my best to stay away from my homeland's politics. Still, I've heard that they and House Fortemps had a squabble, a few weeks back. Were you two involved, by any chance?"

Sensing a chance to rip the proverbial band aid, Y'kahel jumped on it, sarcasm filling her voice. "Exactly! A dark plot by House Fortemps to tear down the Dzemael legitimate supremacy. Their wild beast, the so-called Warrior of Light, conspired with a treacherous house maid to sully their name, and cause societal and political outrage!"

The Dragoon started laughing, followed by Y'kahel herself, to the confusion of the rest of the table. Sensing the opportunity, Ilmane deadpanned, "We met at a tavern and slept together. My former employee took offense and I quit. The end."

A moment of shocked silence, then the laugh spread to the rest of the table, only sparing a blushing Urianger. 

"I didn't realize that your influence was such that your nightly escapades would trigger political turmoil!" giggled Krile.

"The way I understand it, not much is needed to trigger political turmoil among the Houses of Ishgard." explained a grinning Thancred.

"You're right about that." said Estinien. He slapped Y'kahel's shoulder, proud. "Congrats on pissing some noble fool off! Oh, how I wish I could do the same!"

"What's stopping you?" shot Y'kahel back.

"Aymeric would have my head! And not in any kind of pleasant way for either of us." 

Y'kahel barked a laugh, stopping abruptly when the tear on her stomach reminded itself to her attention. 

Calmer than the rest of the group, Y'shtola asked, "The lords must have been furious when they realized you two started dating, no?" .

"Oh, they've been keeping it really quiet!" intervened Tataru. "I didn't even know about it until your call!"

Ilmane narrowed her eyes, baring her teeth in a dangerous smile. "Should I understand that you were still keeping tabs on me, Boss? " 

The lalafel had the lucidity of looking afraid. "Not you, specifically! But I keep abreast of what happens in all city-states still. It's only natural to investigate the state of the markets when you are trying to build a commerce, isn't it?"

"Still, you could have told her you knew me." said Y'kahel, nicely but with clear malcontentment in her voice.

"I uh… Yes." The lalafell looked even more ashamed. "My deepest apologies! The truth is, I didn’t realize right away! We were already looking over the contract when I realized you might be the very same Ilmane I had heard about!"

It was Ilmane's turn to laugh. "Seems like some things still escape your notice, after all!"

With the ice broken so, conversation started flowing easily. They shared anecdotes about their adventures together, revisited with the excuse of telling them to the newcomer, news of their recent endavors, gossips about their numerous friends around the star.

Blanketed by the voice and laughs of her closest friends, Y'kahel started to relax. The almond smell of tea filled her nose. A soft purr escaped her.

This is it. This is what I've been missing. 

The afternoon passed quickly. They rose from around the table only when help was needed to set it up for dinnertime.

Conversation hadn't stop for a moment as everyone recounted what they lived when they were apart. Y'kahel was all too happy to fall back in the background and simply listen to her friends' tales, hoping they wouldn't ask for hers.

Thancred had been explaining how, with Urianger, they helped a small village forge commercial relations with their nearby beast tribe when Y'kahel let the biggest of yawns escape.

All the eyes turned toward her. Blushing from embarrassment, she rushed to apologize. "I'm sorry Thancred! I promise I was listening! I-I didn’t realize I was so tired!"

He laughed good-naturedly. "I can't blame you. It is past your bedtime after all. Brush your teeth and hop to bed, young lady!"

Krile joined in the laughs. "You must be exhausted. Recovering from a wound is always a tiring thing." She sobered up and looked down. "Plus, so soon after Zenos' fight, I imagine you must still feel its effects." 

"I prepared your bedroom as soon as Y'shtola asked!" intervened Tataru. "You can both retire for the night. Don't worry, we'll take care of the dishes."

Both…? Y'kahel and Ilmane shared a look, a discreet blush growing on the miqo'te's striped cheeks.

Y'shtola rose first. "I will look after your wound and change your bandage before the night. Please come."

Everyone joined in the movement of preparing for the night. Ilmane followed the two miqo'tes in the sleeping quarters, trying not to laugh at Y'kahel silent flustered panic.

"Please make sure she doesn't mobilize her abdominals too much, alright?" Y'shtola told Ilmane. Her face was serious but her eyes sparkled with the innuendo.

Or, she simply enjoyed the unabating blush of the short-haired miqo'te. Ilmane couldn't say that it didn't amuse her, too.

Y'shtola departed with a simple 'good night', closing the trap around Ilmane. Already sitting under the sheets with a fresh bandage wrapped around her belly, Y'kahel avoided her eyes and laughed nervously. "Well… 'Tis not like it's the first time we share a bed."

Ilmane glared at her, annoyance rising. "You know, you apologize a lot when you don't have to. You should recognise that now would be a good time."

Y'kahel cringed and lowered her gaze. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you into this mess."

She looked so guilty, Ilmane didn't have the heart to stay mad any longer. She sighed. "It's okay. It's not the end of the world anyway."

She changed into the night gown Tataru was kind enough to lend her. When she turned back, she could not resist letting out a laughing huff. Y'kahel had ostensibly turned her head away to respect her privacy. It was cute, but also a bit ridiculous.

"Say, can I ask something?" she started, joining Y'kahel under the covers.

"Of course?" 

"Is it drugs?"

The other woman marked a pause, clearly confused. "I'm sorry… what?"

"Were you stabbed because of a drug deal that went awry?" enunciated Ilmane, dreading the answer. 

"Wha- no!" exclaimed Y'kahel, laughing. "What made you think that?"

She wasn't lying. Or she had suddenly started learning how to lie. Tension evaporating from her chest, Ilmane started to relax. "Your friends. You trust them. So my theory stating that you were avoiding them because of a scheme doesn't hold.

"I must be lacking imagination, because I don't see any other explanation as to why you would go to such lengths to conceal the truth to them."

Y'kahel stayed silent, looking at the ceiling for a long while.

"You deserve this explanation." she finally said, somewhat gravely. "But please, keep it to yourself. You will understand why."

Ilmane nodded and Y'kahel started recounting. She glossed over her discomfort at Garlemald, but explained the rest. The twins double crush. The gist of Alisae's previous relationship. The betrayal. The poison.

The knife.

When Y'kahel was finished talking, there was a pause. She hadn't looked anywhere but at the ceiling for the whole time she was speaking. Now, she was side-eyeing Ilmane, anxious for her reaction.

"That…" started Ilmane, then paused. She half-raised on one elbow, looked straight at Y'kahel's anxious eyes, then deadpanned. "...Is the stupidest thing I ever heard."

"Buh-!" 

"The girl stabbed you! Literally stood there, gloating on how she tried to poison you first, then stabbed you! Why the- How the hell can you defend her?"

Y'kahel face hardened and she turned away. "I knew you wouldn't understand."

"No, no! Please." Ilmane put her hand on her shoulder, not wanting to pull her by force. "I'm sorry if my words were too harsh. I meant what I said, but please, tell me what I didn't understand!"

When Y'kahel turned back to her, there was something akin to anger in her eyes. "Tell me, then. What should I have done? Call for the guards? See a girl who lost everything thrown in a cell, where she would have no hope of healing? See the hopes of my friends -the hopes they worked so hard to materialize- shattered?"

Ilmane had no answer to that, so Y'kahel pressed on, calmer this time. "I admit I made my first decision by impulse. Calling you instead of any other, I mean. But I don't regret it. And it's not that I don't think about myself! It's just that… I'm just one person. Who's to say my life is worth more than another's?"

"What about your friend's life?"

The question had Y'kahel inhale sharply. "What?"

"Don't you fear that she would go for their lives, in turn?"

"No, I…" She closed her eyes. "I fear for their life every single day. But… I don't think Flavia's the one who would endanger them. She would have had many opportunities before I came to Garlemald. And… I think it's me, specifically, that she… decided to hate. For it all."

"Hm." Doubt was still clear in Ilmane's tone.

"And, you know. Apparently she's the one who called the search first. Maybe… maybe she had remorses right after the deed?"

"Maybe…" A long silence. "But then what? Like what happens now? You simply never say anything and let things happen?"

"Well… yeah? Denouncing her won't heal my wound, you know."

"It might heal hers, though."

Y'kahel paused to consider that. "How so?"

"Let's assume, for now, that she did it in a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. You were there, she had the opportunity, she did it and immediately regretted it. She even tried saving you by calling your friends to help. Let's assume that, for now."

"Okay…?"

"Do you really think it's healthy? For… anyone involved , really? To let it go and never address the issue?"

"No, but..." There was doubt in Y'kahel's voice.

"If, as you think, she feels some semblance of guilt for her actions. It will impact her relationship with Alisae. It has to. Either that or she's a sociopath and you don't want Alisae dating a sociopath. No healthy relationship is based on a lie."

Y'kahel shook her head. "You're right. So… what do I do?"

Settling back under the cover, Ilmane answered. "I don't know. But you don't have to decide right now. At this point, it can wait for the morning, at least."

"You won't tell the others about it?"

"No… but I think you should." 

 A measure of silence, then Y'kahel grabbed Ilmane's hand under the cover. "Thank you", she said, punctuating the word by pressing softly. "Not just for keeping up with the lie. For understanding, too."

Ilmane brushed the back of Y'kahel's hand with her thumb. "It's okay. I'm glad you trust me with at least that much."

They released their hands and fell into a comfortable silence. Y'kahel was almost drifting into sleep when: "Oh, I have one more question!"

"M'yes?”

“What have you done with your linkpearl? You called me with it then your friends tried to contact you but… you didn’t have it on you? What then?”

Y’kahel chuckled. “I, ah… swallowed it.”

“..."

"..."

"You what.”

“I swallowed it? I… am not sure what I was thinking but uh… yeah.”

Ilmane chuckled in disbelief. Then paused. Then guffawed, followed by Y’kahel, the sheer absurdity of it throwing them on a laughing fit. 

"Ow, ow, ow!" Half-murmured Y'kahel. "Don’t make me laugh, my belly hurts!"

The protestation only served to throw Ilmane deeper in hilarity, which in turn contaminated Y'kahel.

The room filled with undignified noises of stifled laughs. Nose pinched, breaths silenced by pillows, the accumulated tension evaporated like snow in the sun with hysterical laughter.

When they finally fell asleep, facing one another, it was with smiles on their faces. 

Chapter Text

Ilmane woke up with someone wrapped around her arm, and a bladder filled to the brim. Having apparently foregone her pillow and opted to snuggle against Ilmane , Y'kahel's face was pressed against her shoulder. 

As cuddly as I remember , realized Ilmane. What face would she pull if she woke up like this? 

The thought almost convinced her to "accidentally" wake the miqo'te from her slumber. But she was looking so comfortable, so deep in her sleep, she wouldn't dare wake her up. Not intentionally, anyway. Nobody would blame her if a bad movement shook the miqo'te up, right?

She lingered for a bit, unwilling to move from the warm spot under the covers. But no matter how much she wished otherwise, her natural needs would not be denied. She needed to move. Soon.

She tried pulling her arm slowly upward but Y'kahel's grip only tightened and she stirred in her sleep, mumbling, "Gnnf'bl…"

"What?" murmured Ilmane, almost to herself.

"Gnffebl!"

What? Amusement and confusion gave pause to Ilmane in her escape attempt. The former winning, she answered in a low voice, "I couldn't agree more. But I still need to go."

"Lelfunadldl?"

"Oh, yes! Every morning."

"Whadjafkboutdm?"

"Hm, hm. Well, I'm not sure."

"Ywlvzm, jstwt." 

Ilmane chuckled quietly at the frown of Y'kahel eyebrows and her decided tone. As amusing as this 'conversation' was, it was in no way helpful. 

She opted for another tactic. Finger by finger, ever so delicately, she freed one hand from her arm, and swapped it for her pillow. Y'kahel immediately shifted to cuddle the pillow instead, allowing her to escape unscathed. The sight had her cackling quietly.

I can understand how she puts fear in the heart of her enemies. How terrible a foe she is to face!

Only a snore answered her silent snark.

The deed done, Ilmane decided against going back to bed. She would not be able to fall asleep, and she didn't want to risk waking Y'kahel up. Instead, she turned to the main hall, where aluring smells of breakfast were coming from.

She found the main table surrounded by both new and familiar faces. Y'shtola, already dressed in her dark robe and sipping a cup of tea while reading from a tome open on the table. Krile, seemingly on the verge of falling asleep again, was wrapped in a bathrobe imitating her usual coat, cat ears and all. Filling the table with baskets of toasted bread, plates of fried eggs, and loads of marmelade to go with it all, was Tataru, the inexhaustible secretary – former secretary– of the group.

Along with those she already met, Ilmane distinguished a miqo'te male with hairs redder than Y'kahel's and two very resemblant elezen teenagers. Their faces were unknown to her but she could guess their identities with a certain degree of assurance, owing to the stories she heard.

Tataru was the first to spot her arrival, and she greeted her with a cheerful smile. "Good morning Ilmane! Did you sleep well?"

"Like a log!" she answered with gusto.

She sat at the table, doing her best to stay unperturbed by the three newcomers staring at her.

"How is Y’kahel?" asked Y'shtola without stopping her reading. 

Ilmane was starting to understand the sorceress a little better. Where the tone or apparent coldness of the question could have put her off at first, she now recognised it as searching for efficiency with no ill intent. The best way to answer was sincerely and directly.

"I'm no doctor nor healer but I think she's alright. She fell asleep easily enough, without complaining about the pain, and is currently cuddling a pillow to finish the night."

That last remark earned her a chuckle from the elezen girl. "I'd pay a hefty price to see that!"

Sensing the opportunity, Ilmane's grinned and leaned forward. "How much are we talking here? I could arrange something, depending on your terms…"

"Ha! I will have to ask how much the Leveilleur estate is willing to lend us." Dropping the joke, the young woman raised her hand in greeting. "I think we'll get along just fine! I'm Alisae Leveilleur. The stoic bore right over here is my brother Alphinaud."

Unbothered by the introduction, he spoke with a soft yet decided tone. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Ilmane."

"And you still haven't met G'raha Tia!" intervened Tataru, designating the miqo'te trying his best to appear relaxed. 

Y’kahel hadn't spoken much about him the first night that they had met. Not from disinterest, if Ilmane had to guess. At the time, it had felt more like she avoided the subject on purpose. Ilmane had figured that it was too personal to share around an ale with a stranger. Now that she had met him and his blatant nervosity, curiosity grew on her. What was the situation there?

"It's an honor to meet you." warmly said the man. "I gather that you are Ilmane? Y'kahel's, ah…?"

He didn't dare to explicitly voice the question, but everyone around the table was still waiting for an answer. Trapped, Ilmane thought of the most honest one she could provide.

"We haven't exactly discussed the terms of our relationship. We simply enjoy each other's presence and she ended up in my house when she needed help."

G'raha deflated the tiniest bit, looking… relieved? And a bit embarrassed. "Pardon me, I didn’t want to put you under pressure with my inquiry. It is true that relationships are sometimes difficult to put into words, precious as they may be."

Speaking from experience? Ilmane wondered. 

"Raha, stop bothering the poor girl and bring the tea over here please." 

Krile's sleep-filled voice was severe yet fond. It brought Y'kahel tirade about Miqo'te's names to mind. She was right, after all, thought Ilmane. Particles in names are indeed wonderful. 

The red-haired obediently grabbed the teapot, frowned, and placed his hand on it.

"Oh, it's cold. Give me a second."

A soft light and a few seconds later, steam started to escape from the pot again.

"Well that sure is useful." commented Ilmane, fascination pouring from her voice. "Are you Scions all versed in aetherology?"

Y'shtola raised her head from her book to answer, but was cut short by Alphinaud. "A good many of our numbers originate from Sharlayan, where some even have earned their archon marks." With those words, he pointed at the tattoos running on a basheful G'raha's neck. "Aetherology is a common subject of study here, and part of the standard curriculum of Sharlayan's education."

"Quite a few of our members struggle with the practice outside of their chosen field of combat." continued Y'shtola. "But let it be said that it doesn't prevent them from being experts in their own way."

"I've tried learning arcane magic myself but failed miserably." intervened Tataru. "I've since learned to focus on my strengths. That is: craftsmanship and commerce!" 

She had jumped on her chair with those words, planting her fists on her hips in a triumphant posture. Sarcastic yet warm applause erupted around the table, to which she bowed non less sarcastically. It seemed that the antics were usual enough for nobody to be surprised.

Ignoring the distraction, Y'shtola turned to Ilmane. "Were you unable to learn magic in your youth?"

No traces of judgment in her voice, simply curiosity, a desire to know and understand more. Were it any other way, Ilmane might have brushed her off with a snark. Instead, she spoke with sincerity.

"It's not that I was unable. It just never occured to anyone that I could. I was lucky enough to have a formal education which gave me access to my previous job."

Y'shtola hummed with understanding, retreating back to her thoughts.

That declaration had given pause to the table. Each one mulling over the words. Hesitantly, G'raha broke the silence.

"Would you… would you be interested?" The next words came faster, like the breaking of a dam. "I am no teacher, but I do have some kind of tutoring experience. I could show you the basics."

Could she have helped Y'kahel had she known some healing magick? Would she live a different life had she learned aetherology from a young age? The questions crossed Ilmane's mind before being swept along by the sheer eagerness of the miqo'te in front of her. It was like nothing could bring him more joy than teaching her.

Not for the first time in the last day, she briefly wondered where fate would lead her in the end. Equal part amused, intrigued and genuinely interested, she nodded.

His grin as he leapt from the table to get a book from his chambers could have lit the night sky.

Y'kahel rarely had troubles with the mornings. She usually woke up quite quickly and felt up to speed almost as soon as she leapt from the bed. This day was an exception.

She had woken up and dozed off for a long while, simply enjoying the warmth of the bed, unable to extract herself from the fogginess. Why wake up when she was so comfortable? She only managed to emerge from her slumber when the cold crept in. 

Apparently, Ilmane had left a while ago. Her side of the bed was already cold and Y'kahel woke up cuddling her pillow. She addressed a silent prayer to Menphina that she hadn't stolen it from under her bunkmate's head while sleeping.

Dressed in large and warm sleepwear –Tataru-made, of course– she made her way to the main hall. 

She froze upon seeing the scene before her.

Ilmane and G'raha Tia, shoulder to shoulder, peering over a book. Ilmane scrunching her eyebrows and pointing to some passages to re-read them. G'raha explaining, with carefully restrained enthusiasm. Sat at the same table, Y'shtola occasionally tore her eyes from her own book to point out a detail or another.

Y'kahel's heart squeezed in her chest. She didn't exactly know what she felt at that instant. It was like an ache, yet relieving. The fulfillment of a longing she didn't know she had. She stopped breathing almost completely, not wanting to disturb the picture. 

She didn't hear the footsteps coming from behind her. 

"Engrossed by her matinal beauty?" teased the voice.

Y'kahel jumped. Surprise immediately gave place to elation when she recognized the voice, "Alisae! Alphinaud! You came!" Without waiting for a greeting, she grabbed both of the small elezens in a bear hug.

"Of course we came!" laughed Alphinaud, voice muffled by Y'kahel's embrace. "Only our obligations to the people of Garlemald prevented us from being here yesterday. Be assured it wasn't for lack of wanting to!"

The commotion had everyone looking in their direction. G'raha immediately stood, then sat back down, at the edge of his seat, opting to let Ykahel come to them rather than going to meet her. Neither Ilmane nor Y'shtola missed his trepidation. They shared a look, but Ilmane would have been hard-pressed to tell what the sorceress was thinking.

"Good morning Y'kahel." said G'raha when she and the twins finally sat at the table. "Full glad I am to see you standing and in relatively good health. I bid Krile go before me yesterday. I figured that her ministrations would be of more use than my fretting."

"Fretting? More like panic, you mean?" said Krile. "Poor Raha was beside himself with worry. For the record, my 'ministrations' were of little use anyway, you could have come earlier."

"Krile!" he whined, already half-resigned to his fate.

"Ah, I am glad to see you too, Ra– G'raha. But worry not, a simple knife will not be the end of me!" boasted Y'kahel. "You know I've survived worse!"

Far from being reassuring, the words pulled a grimace out of him. "Be assured that I know that. Far too recently even. But you shouldn't have to bear such wounds in the first place."

Sensing the mood turning for the worse, Y'kahel leapt onto the first other subject that came to mind.

"Putting my little person aside, what were you reading?"

Ilmane decided to come to her rescue. "Your miqo'te friends here, as well as the honorary one over there," she pointed at Krile. "decided that they would teach me the basics of aetherology. So that I could pursue the subject, should it interest me."

"Oh! And how are you faring so far?"

"No worse than you did at the very beginning." teased Alisae.

"What's that?" Y'kahel rose in fake menace. "You want me to teach you a lesson in red magic, young girl?"

Y'shtola stood up, grabbed Y'kahel by the ear and, ignoring the pained "Ow! Ow! Ow!", dragged her down to her seat.

"You will do no such thing. You still need to rest for at least a couple days."

Amidst the chuckles, Y'kahel looked at Y'shtola with a pout, still nursing her tender ear. Suddenly, as if recalling a memory, a shit-eating grin started to grow on her face. 

Realization stricking, Y'shtola started. "Don't–"

"Yes, mom!" exclaimed the Warrior, with a victorious smile.

Laughter errupted from around the table. Y'shtola tried to appear angry as much as she could, but couldn't keep mirth from showing on her face.

And so started another day of Ilmane's living among the Scions. Understanding with each minute a little more how much they cared for one another.

She observed Y'kahel. With how the miqo'te wore her heart on her sleeve, it was easy to see how happy it all made her. 

Catching her eye, Y'kahel turned to shoot her a smile. The sight made Ilmane's heart squeeze in her chest. 

Oh... she thought. That's not good. 

Chapter Text

The days passed in a warm blur, everyone falling into a lazy yet content routine. 

Y'kahel spent her time between exercises of physical reeducation under the watchful eye of Y'shtola, and learning the art of cooking. 

She started with… mixed results at first, but was improving by the day. On the fourth day, she greeted everyone in the morning with a full-blown Ishgardian breakfast. The taste was not quite right . The bread was a bit too dense and not quite salted enough, the jam was too sweet, the croissants lacked in crispiness. Yet a strange kind of emotion gripped on Ilmane's throat at the spectacle. Touched by the gesture and seeing Y'kahel so proud of herself, she could not resist and deposited a kiss on her cheek when nobody else could see them, which left the miqo'te red-faced and self-conscious.

That breakfast had been the only time since the very first dinner that Estinien sat with them long enough to share a full meal. 

Azure Dragoon. The title held no little significance in the hearts of Ishgardians. To be able to find some camaraderie with the man thanks to pastries and hot chocolate was not something Ilmane had anticipated. That being said, she couldn't have anticipated much concerning the Scions. The stories had reached her ears before, but she had trouble reconciling the characters she had been told about with the group of friends she was now starting to know. It was difficult to imagine them facing untold dangers and influencing global politics when all she could see them do was light training, studying and simply sharing some leisure time.

For her part, Ilmane had difficulties relaxing at first, stressed as she was by her prolonged leave of absence from work. When she asked Tataru when she would be expected to start working again, her diminutive employer  smiled warmly and said. "Don't worry about it. As long as you are caring for a close one, I won't bother you with work."

"I'm not exactly 'caring' for Y'kahel." retorted Ilmane. "Being incapable of assisting in her healing as I am."

A soft melancholy appeared on Tataru's face. "Not all wounds are physical, you know?"

The words gave Ilmane pause, so Tataru continued, with more gusto. "You're not getting any special treatment either! Everyone working for me gets the same advantages."

"Won't that cost you a lot of money for nothing?" asked Ilmane, confused.

"Well… Morals cost money, as it turns out. But my little business is working well enough that I can afford it. Plus, it's not like I gain nothing by it!" her grin turned predatory. "A happy employee is an efficient employee, after all." 

Ilmane was still a bit unsettled by the apparent uncaring attitude of her employer, but wouldn't dare to complain. Free of the constraints of work, she dedicated her time to productive slacking. 

She was making slow but steady progress in aetherology, thanks to G'raha's unending patience. Y'kahel occasionally chimed in to reformulate a theoretical point or ask a question of her own. Her understanding of aetherology was much more practical than the theoretical concepts G'raha explained, but it didn't phase the man one bit. Oftentime, he used her demonstrations to bridge the gap between theory and reality with the ease of someone who understood the former so completely that the latter just followed suit. 

Seeing them so naturally bounce off of each other brought the awkwardness of their first reunion to Ilmane's mind. She was rightfully curious about the situation, but didn't dare question it at first. 

So she simply observed and stayed silent. She observed as Y'kahel sometimes jumped into their conversation with little to no reason, and as G'raha was always happy to welcome her. She observed as each praise G'raha shot toward the Warrior of Light only served to pain the latter's smile. She observed as G'raha eyes sometimes lingered on Y'kahel form when she was exercising her healing abdominals near them. She observed as, each time Y'kahel spoke to her instead of him, G'raha's ears pulled back, ever so slightly.

With that, half of the equation –G'raha's half– was pretty clear to see. It was on Y'kahel's end that the unknowns were piling. She seemed a little frustrated with the status quo, yet afraid of breaching it. Afraid of what, Ilmane couldn't tell. 

So, one night, she simply asked.

"You are aware that G'raha Tia is infatuated with you, aren't you?"

They were in the bedroom, preparing for the night, and Y'kahel was currently changing her own bandage before going to bed. These gestures had quickly become a routine for both of them. They both appreciated those calmer moments, with only the two of them, free to discuss the events of the day without needing to keep a pretense. When Ilmane abruptly brought the subject about, Y'kahel froze for a second, then sighed tiredly, continuing her motions.

"He is… isn't he?"

“You still had doubts?” asked Ilmane, half amused, half in disbelief.

Another sigh. Y’kahel donned her sleepwear and came to sit under the cover with Ilmane. “Not really, I just… didn’t want to think about it.”

"You don't seem too happy about the matter." noted Ilmane.

“Well, I… I just don’t know what to do!” burst Y’kahel, frustrated.

With a calming voice, Ilmane invited. “Tell me about it, I might be able to be of counsel.”

“Why are you so interested?”

That was a poor attempt at deflection if Ilmane ever saw one. She could have countered it back with another deflection and come back to the charge if she wanted, but she figured another tactic might be more efficient. She grinned and charged forward.

“Because I’m starting to get fond of you. Of you both, I mean. I’d hate for you to stay forever in this strange limbo of a relationship, drifting apart every day by lack of meaningful change.”

Taken aback by her words, Y’kahel was staring at her with eyes and mouth wide open. Ilmane shot her a victorious yet soft smile. “Now tell me about him. About you both.”

So Y’kahel told her. She spoke about their first meeting. About the frustrated amusement she derived from his roundabout introduction. About their mission. About their relationship at the time. This awkward friendship that grew into something more, then shifted to something different without losing its truthfulness. She spoke of his passion, his mischief, his dedication. 

His sacrifice.

She spoke of the First. She spoke of the first time she met with the Crystal Exarch, certain that it was her friend’s body, unsure if his soul and spirit inhabited it still. She spoke of Urianger’s prophecy, speaking of catastrophes and her own death. A prophecy that turned out to be the Exarch’s. She spoke of the Exarch plan to save both the First and the Source. She spoke about the distance he kept with everyone as the Exarch. How she decided to keep the distance herself, unable as she was to carry more on her plate. She spoke of his wisdom, his cunning, his dedication.

His sacrifice.

His attempt at sacrifice, rather, thwarted as it was by Emet-Selch. She spoke of her relief once she confirmed that it was G’raha’s soul inhabiting the half-cristal body. Relief turning into worry at the prospect of losing him once again. She spoke of their plan to bring him back to the Source with them. How they weren’t sure it would work until the very end.

She spoke of the moment he woke up, in that blasted crystal tower. How she wept from relief in his arms, unable to hold it. How he comforted her, confused, trying to figure out who he was and what had just happened. She spoke about how she found herself in front of a strange mix between her former friend and the Exarch. About how confident and strong he could be in one moment, yet meek and unsure in the next. How she liked both parts of him still, proud of what he had accomplished, of what she saw him accomplish every day.

She spoke about his adulation of her. How he treated her like a savior. How she liked that someone recognized her efforts, yet hated the distance this put between them.

She glossed over the specifics of the Final Days, promising to expand on it later. She talked about Ultima Thule. How she sacrificed her friends, one by one, to progress. About G’raha’s last speech. About the promise they made. She spoke of his intelligence, his sincerity, his dedication.

His sacrifice.

His and everyone else’s salvation, through Azem’s magic. Their final stand together. Their defeat.

Her sacrifice. Refusing another single one of them to suffer because of her weakness.

She glossed over her ultimate victory, aided by an unforeseen ally. It wasn't the subject here and she didn't want to pull the focus to her. Instead, she explained how the prayers of her friends were instrumental in her safety. 

She spoke about her return to Etherys, wounded from her final fight.

She spoke about the dissolution of the Scions. About how everyone scattered, leaving her alone to wonder what’s next.

About how G’raha fled to Sharlayan, forgoing their promise.

“And well, you know the rest.” she finished, flatly.

Halfway through the story, tears had started pouring on her cheeks, falling quietly without choking her. Small blessings.

Ilmane stayed silent. She rose from the bed, poured a cup of water, drank one mouthful and presented the cup to Y’kahel.

“Here. You must be parched.”

Y’kahel chuckled, drying her eyes. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know? Drinking first, I mean. I’m okay now.”

It was Ilmane’s turn to chuckle. “You’re a lot of things, dear. But you’re not ‘okay’.” She went back under the cover, waited until Y’kahel finished her drink to deposit it on the nightstand next to the carafe. Then, she pulled Y’kahel into a comforting embrace. 

The miqo’te made a surprised noise. “You don’t need to–”

“I’m sorry.” interrupted Ilmane. “I didn’t mean for you to unearth all that.”

Taking advantage of Y'kahel stunned silence, she continued. "When I asked about it, I expected a lot more… frivolous stories. Matters of the heart. I forgot who I was talking to, it seems." She laughed humorlessly. "I'm sorry."

“No no, it’s alright!" cried out Y'kahel. "I think… I needed to talk about it.” 

She melted into the embrace, placing her head in the crook of Ilmane’s neck. “If anything, I’m sorry for dumping all that on you when you didn’t expect it.”

“Tchk, can’t let anyone out-sorry you, can you?” mocked Ilmane.

Y’kahel chuckled but didn’t answer. After a moment, Ilmane spoke again.

“Congratulations. I’m now as confused as you are by your relationship with G’raha. I thought I could counsel you but apart from ‘Figure out what you want from him and tell him’, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“What I want from him, uh?”

“Yep.” Ilmane hesitated, then spoke with faux cheeriness hiding her anxiety. “Want me to do a demonstration?”

“A demonstration?” 

“I want you to… I’d like you to…” A hesitation. She didn’t like how self-conscious and unsure of herself she sounded. “...rely on me.”

“What do you mean?”

Embarrassment growing, Ilmane pressed on. “As I’ve said, I’m starting to grow fond of you. If you want to talk, or vent, or simply spend an evening in peace. Please reach out to me. I’d like to keep seeing you.”

Y’kahel breathed in, and bent her neck to look at her, red growing or her cheeks. “I– Uh. Is that all right? I thought that you’d want me out of your life for good, once this is over.”

“Don’t presume without asking.” chided Ilmane. She nestled her face in Y’kahel’s hair, hiding her own embarrassment. “I did welcome you once. It’s you who fled away.”

“Sorry–” 

Ilmane flicked Y’kahel’s ear. The miqo’te gasped and answered with some tickles, faking anger. When they settled down again. Y’kahel answered more seriously.

“I’d love to keep seeing you too. I don’t know what I did to deserve your company, but I enjoy it nonetheless.”

“Admit it, you just like to have something warm to cuddle in the morning.” mocked Ilmane.

Half-asleep already, Y’kahel mumbled. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

"I am not." assured Ilmane softly.

"I still don’t know what to do about G'raha…" Y'kahel's voice seemed sleepier by the second. 

Falling to the clutches of slumber herself, Ilmane murmured. "That can wait for the morrow."

Only the night heard her.

The first departure came the following morning. Thancred and Urianger left to continue their roaming, starting from where they left on. Their goodbyes were warm and fond, and Y'kahel managed to send them off with an unwavering smile. 

"Do take care of you now, you hear?" said Thancred to Y'kahel, his lopsided smile a touch more sincere than usual, letting transpire the distant fondness characteristic of the man's relationship with Y'kahel.

"Though we part ways once again, pray believe that you are ever in our hearts." added Urianger. "If you ever wish to see us, be it for work or leisure, you need only call." 

Y'kahel simply grabbed the lanky man and pulled him into a hug.

The next one to leave was Estinien. "My armor is rusting here, and I need to go back to training the Radiant Host. Also, I suspect the big wyrm will get lonely without me around."

Y'kahel laughed. "I'm surprised we managed to keep you so long in one place! If I knew I needed only to get stabbed…"

"Don't make a habit out of it, would you?" scoffed the dragoon. "I could do with less of the little lord's worried chatter." 

Once again, Y'kahel managed to send him off with a smile, although it dropped slightly when he went out of sight. She liked how the dragoon respected her yet never treated her with more deference or care than any other. Like an equal. With him left a camaraderie she couldn't completely find in the others.

The twins' departure was more dragged out. It started with them doing the trip every day. Going to Garlemald in the morning after wolfing down their breakfast, only to return when the night fell, weary from the day but forcing themselves to spend time with everyone around the foyer. 

They continued the routine a couple of days before Y'kahel intervened. "Your work is exhausting enough. You don't have to worry about coming back here every day."

"Don't worry, we can handle it." boasted an Alisae with enough shadows under her eyes to counterbalance a Flood of Light. "We have more than enough funds in the bank to pay for the Aetheryte until you're ready to return with us."

Y'kahel grimaced and searched for Ilmane's with her eyes. The elezen shot her an encouraging smile. 

"I– I won't be returning. To Garlemald, I mean." She shot them an apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry." 

"Oh! Well, I can imagine it makes sense now." Alphinaud punctuated his words with an understanding look toward Ilmane.

But Y'kahel wouldn't let her take the fall again. She grimaced. "No that's not it. Well, that's part of it, but more importantly… I don't belong there. The Garleans fear or hate me, the Contingent's soldiers don’t know how to deal with me and… I don't think I'm all that useful."

"Wait! That's not true!" exclaimed Alisae. "We–"

"Alisae." called her brother. "I'm sorry, Kahel. I knew the work was hard, but I didn't realize how much the atmosphere weighed on you. Please don't apologize, you've done more than anyone could ask of you."

Alisae pouted all the while they were preparing for their true departure, vexed of having once again failed to recognize her friend's struggles. Y'kahel knew the cause of her mecontentement, yet she couldn't help but feel guilty. She was surprised, however, to find that the guilt was easily counterbalanced by the relief of being free from expectations, even as self-imposed as they were.

Later that day, the twins brought back a large duffel bag to Y'kahel, containing her personal effects. Ilmane had to pinch herself not to chuckle when Y'kahel made a big show of 'finding' her linkpearl in it. Not sharing in her amusement, Y'shtola was looking at the scene with analytic, almost suspicious eyes. She didn't comment, but Ilmane couldn't shake out the feeling that Y'shtola knew more than she let on.

After the twins' departure, a blanket of calm fell onto the Rising Stone. It was the quietest the halls had been for the last few days. The change visibly weighed on both Tataru and Y'kahel, though less so than Ilmane had feared. 

The miqo'te had spent most of the afternoon listening to Y'shtola's explanation of her research on interplanar transportation. The few sentences Ilmane gleamed sounded gibberish, although she could tell that the sorceress was making an effort to explain as clearly as possible. 

And Ykahel was clearly making an effort to try and comprehend the subject matter, as complex and scholarly as it was. Always asking for clarifications, precisions and confirmations on what she believed to have understood, she wasn't afraid of displaying her ignorance, prompting Y'shtola to elaborate ever further and deeper, until, in the middle of an explanation, she abruptly stopped and said, absentmindedly.

"Wait. I had forgotten about that, let me just…" 

Y'kahel just smiled and left her to dive back into her studies in peace. Observing the scene, G'raha commented. "Teaching is oftentime the best way to learn. To formulate a concept properly, one needs to grasp it for oneself. That process can sometimes lead to revelations, small as they may be."

Ilmane never expected to ever have fun studying. Her own studies hadn't prepared her for the notion. She had to admit that the Scions had a knack for making it light-hearted and enjoyable, probably because they themselves were enjoying it.

She was also enjoying Y'kahel forays into cooking. After having let Y'shtola to her book, the warrior, she had prepared roasted potatoes with stir fried vegetables, along with a simple chocolate cake. The meal wasn't overly sophisticated yet still delicious, every part of it seasoned and baked with care. The smell had Ilmane reminisce about her mother's cooking in the best of ways.

Ilmane was helping Tataru bring the dinner Y'kahel had concocted on the table, when an observation almost made her laugh. She designated the table where Y'shtola, G'raha, Y'kahel and Krile were already seated.

"Well. It's just us and the cats now, isn't it Tataru?"

Four pairs of pointy ears turned to face them, differing degrees of confusion, amusement and mock offense painted on the faces below them. 

"Alas, I can only play the part." chuckled Krile, touching her fake ears with a wistful look on her face. "But don't worry, you won't have to suffer an impostor much longer."

"What do you mean?" asked Y'kahel, a worried look on her face.

"Oh! Nothing grim, I assure you! I just meant I was planning to return to the Baldesion Annex tonight, after dinner."

"Oh, okay." 

The dejection on Y'kahel's face was so plain to see that Krile put a hand on her arm and said. "I'm sorry that I have to leave while you're just recovering. I leave only because I know I can trust those four with your care."

Failing to hide her emotions behind a smile, Y'kahel pulled Krile in a half-hug. "It is not a matter of care, I am just saddened to see us all part ways again." 

"Aw, I promise to come back to visit you as soon as I can." She grinned. "After all, you're starting to get good at cooking. I'd hate to miss your next experimentations."

Krile departed after breaking the fast with them the next morning.

And came back the next evening.

Prompted by the confused faces, she raised a paper above her head to explain. "Look at what arrived on our desk during our absence, G'raha! The first missive I opened upon my return was from none other than the Sons of Saint Coinach.

"We have a mission in the Crystal Tower!"

Chapter Text

"We have a mission in the Crystal Tower!"

As soon as she heard the words from Krile, Y'kahel turned to Y'shtola and said, resolute. "I'm accompanying them."

Although it was voiced like an affirmation, the Warrior of Light just stood there, looking at Y'shtola, waiting. Y'kahel never asked for her approval before, even implicitly as she was doing now. Y'shtola did try to force her to rest in the past, but the circumstances had always been dire enough for Y'kahel to ignore the advice. Would she listen now? 

In normal circumstances, no healer worthy of the name would allow their patient to charge back into action a mere few days after getting stabbed in the guts. Yet, the last time she had examined the wound, it was almost entirely cicatrised. A week or two more of rest would have been preferable, but Y'shtola wouldn't jeopardize the trust that Y'kahel tentatively displayed by being needlessly strict.

"All right." she relented. "But I'll go with you too. And you will give me the time to do a complete examination of your wound beforehand." 

Glad to have secured the agreement, Y’kahel happily followed the sorceress' instructions. She stretched every other way, demonstrating her recovered agility and strength while Y'shtola focused her vision and magick on the thin scar to ensure that everything was back where it should be.

In the meantime, G'raha and Krile went to query about the details of the mission to the Sons of Saint Coinach. Apparently, strange readings had been detected coming from inside the Tower. Given the time-freezing spell cast on its content, any kind of reading was considered strange, and thus reason enough to send an investigation party. 

When the two Students of Baldesion came back and Y'shtola had officially approved of Y'kahel's fitness to go, they all started preparing in earnest. Donning their fighting gear, inspecting their weapons and provisions, they all gave the impression of being much more focused and intense than usual. 

Amidst the agitation, Ilmane felt like a rock in the river stream. Without needing to prepare herself nor knowing how to help, she could only sit and watch as the four Scions prepared to face the Crystal Tower once more. 

Y'kahel was agitated. Happy? Stressed, definitely, but seemingly handling it well. She had donned an armor much lighter than Ilmane had seen the last time, with less cotton padding to fend off the cold and much less metal parts. The black leather undercoat, bound with red straps and adorned with furs, left the arms and one shoulder bare. 

The only pieces of protective metal Ilmane could see were on Y'kahel's shoulders, neck, wrists, feet and front of the torso. It seemed terribly light in terms of protection but when she questioned Y'kahel about it, she explained, unbothered. "Allagans love their monsters big and ugly. I need to be mobile enough to avoid their attacks, and no amount of metal will protect me from getting crushed."

She smiled, as if she hadn't just casually talked about getting maimed. "Moreover, most of the protection in this armor comes from the charms weaved into the furs around my waist. It was a gift from our friends from the Azim Steppe. Even though they are not versed in theoretical studies of the aether, they still wield it with impressive natural."

The explanation didn't really assuage Ilmane's worries, but she hadn't wanted to insist. G'raha and Y'shtola were not geared in metal either, and nobody seemed to find it strange, so she figured it was usual for them.

Finally ready, Y’kahel turned to face her. She opened her mouth as if to say something.  Closed it. Walked bashfully to her and deposited a small kiss on her cheek with a half-hug, before turning tail and walking to the door with decided steps.

Oscillating between anxiety and elation, Ilmane almost missed the way G'raha turned his eyes away from the scene, a melancholic expression on his face. Y'shtola shot her a quizzical look but simply said "Have a nice day, we should be back for dinner," and followed the others outside.

The door closed behind them, and calm engulfed the Rising Stones once again. Suffocating, after the tumult of the last few hours.

"Well, here they go again." sighed Tataru. "I'm glad there's two of us now. I hate the solitude of when they leave me alone to worry helplessly."

Ilmane was starting to understand the feeling. "What do you usually do in those times?"

Tataru grinned and raised her hand, fingers forming a V. "Two things! First, ensure the Scions correct operation until their return." She stopped, a mournful but resigned look on her face "Although… Now that the Scions no longer exist, I suppose we'll have to settle for making sure our coffers are fuller than when they left. Only so much we can do in a simple day, however…"

She trailed off, thinking about ways to make the next few hours productive.

"And second…?" proded Ilmane.

Tatru shook herself out of her materialist considerations. "And second, prepare for their return!"

Ilmane frowned, trying and failing to understand what that entailed. "I assume you have a plan?"

Victorious glint in her eye, Tataru nodded. "I have a plan."

"So, what's the plan?" asked Y'kahel, with an adrenalin-fueled chuckle.

The monstrosity behind the door slammed its fists against the crystal panel, sending shockwaves through Y'kahel's back. There was no chance of it breaking the large door, resilient as it was built, but their exit was on the other side of it.

They had entered the Tower a few hours earlier. Krile had removed the seal upon the entrance, and left G'raha, Y'shtola and Y'kahel to progress without her. She wasn't feeling confident enough in her combat abilities to accompany them. 

"I don't want to get in your way." she had simply said, a longing look in her eyes. Not wanting to lie, nor confirm her friend’s self-depreciation, Y'kahel had simply pulled her into a short hug, careful not to stab her with the spikes adorning her armor.

The trio had progressed smoothly in the seemingly dead tower. Unable to find the source of the disturbance, they elected to try and find a control room where they could monitor the tower more efficiently, with allagan tools and the authority granted by G'raha's blood.

They hadn't made half of the way when they encountered the first monstrosity. 

Boar head, bulging muscles, stripped claws longer than Y'kahel's torso, the chimera towered a good two yalms above them. Tubes entered and exited its body, carrying an unknown substance to and from his limbs. The design would have screamed "allagan experiment" even if they had encountered the beast anywhere else. Allagans did have a disturbing penchant for the grotesque.

More importantly, and contrary to the rest of the tower, the beast was very much awake.

Y'kahel grabbed her axe from behind her back, and focused a protective spell. Aether swirled and crystalized around her once, then twice again. It seemed both Y’shtola and G’raha had decided to pile their protections on top of her own.

Bolstered by her companions’ support, the Warrior of Light charged ahead, ducking to dodge the claws coming for her head. The momentum pushed her too close to strike with her blade so she plunged against the beast’s belly, armored shoulder first, pushing it back a couple of fulms. Now correctly placed, she striked, aiming for the exposed underarm. 

Her blade never connected, cutting only air where the monster was, just a moment ago. Confused, and unbalanced by the weight or her weapon, she didn't even see the strike coming. She was sent flying, three lines of fires drawn on her side, all air drawing from her lungs upon landing.

"KAHEL!" 

She heard G'raha's shout as well as Y'shtola's strangled gasp, but couldn’t muster enough air to answer. She rose up in a flurry, facing the beast and ready to counter the next attack, but it was already focused on her teammates. G’raha had traded his staff for an ethereal sword and shield to protect Y’shtola, but the sorceress herself was focusing a shield of aether around them, upon which the beast was lashing out in fury.

Y’kahel used the few seconds of distraction to take stock of her injury. The cuts were only superficial, despite burning like all hells. Y'kahel suspected that without the cumulative protective spells, the strike would have cut her in half. Or in fifth. As it stood, with her magically aided regenerative capabilities already working overtime to close the tears, she could keep on fighting.

She put her protection back up, fully aware that it wouldn’t suffice should the beast pierce her guard once more, and charged again, shouting to distract her opponent from her friends.

The beast avoided her first strike with a decidedly human-like movement, and attacked in return, its animal nature once again in full display. It was fast, and dangerous, but no more than Y’kahel had already fought and beaten. She just needed to stay focused, lest it got under her guard once more.

How did it get under her guard the first time? She hadn’t seen it coming.

“Don’t!” shouted Y’shtola, panic leaking in her voice. “It’s-”

One moment the beast was in front of her, the next it was on her right, plunging its dull teeth in her arm. Only adrenaline prevented her from freezing with the pain. She struck between the beast’s eyes with her left armored fist.

For once, the blow connected, but the instant it did, the beast vanished and reappeared a few yalms away. 

Teleportation?

She felt the familiar pull of Y’shtola rescuing her in the safety of the aether shield, then pain subsiding as a quick healing spell was taking care of the worst of her injury. Already, Y’shtola turned her attention back to their foe, and started a new incantation. 

Ethereal chains appeared, locking the beast into place. G’raha’s magick.

“Now!” he cried.

Y’shtola raised her staff, and a massive ball of fire appeared above the creature’s head, ready to fall. 

Not falling.

Why wasn’t it falling?

Even the flames had frozen, locked in time as the creature struggled against its chains. 

G’raha yelped. “I can’t hold it much longer!”

Y’kahel shook herself from the confusion. Brandishing her axe with her left arm, she threw it with all her force. The blade dug itself deep in the creature’s lower neck, proving itself a pretty effective distraction. The fireball resumed its movement, engulfing the creature entirely and exploding in a pillar of light and heat.

When the fire died, the creature had turned to only ash and charcoal.

“Kahel! Are you all right?!” G’raha kneeled beside her, looking at her wounds with panic.

“I’ll survive.” she simply said. “More importantly, what was that?”

“I have no idea. But I think it safe to say we’ve found the source of our readings.” answered Y’shtola, already focused on healing her.

“What did it do to your spell? Did it…?”

“Froze it in time." completed the sorceress. “At least I assume that's what was going on. It was the same trick that allowed it to hurt you… twice.”

Y'kahel wouldn't have admitted it, but the confirmation helped her mend a small part of her ego. It wasn't that she was getting sloppy, she simply and literally had no time to react.

"Uh, Y'kahel?" bashfully called G'raha. "I, uh… recovered your axe. Here."

His timidity was readily explained by the state of Y'kahel's weapon. Although the core metal parts didn't seem to have suffered too much from the ordeal, all the rest –leather grip, decorative chains and furs, all of it– had been melted, charred or otherwise pulverized by the heat of Y'shtola's fireball. 

The heart sinked in the warrior's chest. 

"Y'kahel, I'm sorry. I know it was important for you." 

Y'shtola's voice was soft and pained. Y'kahel buried her misplaced sadness and shot what she hoped was a reassuring smile toward her.

"Don't worry about it. I was the one to throw it away. It can't be helped." She crudely wrapped the charred leather of the handle with a bandage, to ensure some form of grip, and rose up. "Let's move. We don't know if that thing was alone."

It wasn't, as they quickly discovered. Two beasts of similar kind awaited them the next hall over. When they saw the group, they stepped over one another, rushing toward the Scions with murderous intent.

No talk was needed. The three miqo'tes turned tails and ran, Y'kahel closing the march. Y'shtola froze. Caught in the beasts' power, no doubt. Y'kahel grabbed her by the waist and carried her the few seconds needed for the spell to fade and for the sorceress to recover her bearings.

They finally arrived in a room with multiple terminals lining the wall. G'raha hushed them in and used his authority to close the door behind them. 

Y'kahel leaned against the door, reveling on the way its thickness dampened the strength of the beast’s blows.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked.

"I am glad that the tower still considers me of higher authority than them." spoke a winded G'raha. "If only those things were of the same mind..."

"Will the door hold?" queried Y'shtola, to which Y'kahel simply nodded. "Good. Then we might take the opportunity to search for answers here."

The terminals proved difficult to use, but the two scholars eventually made sense of them. They discovered that the Allagans feared trespassers would take advantage of the time freezing spell to pillage the Crystal Tower. To fend off such trespassers, they conceived of defenders that the spell would not affect. Defenders that could use the structure of the spell itself to freeze their opponents in time, giving them the advantage in combat.

Defenders that were now banging on the door of their temporary refuge.

"Well, that's good to know." quipped Y'kahel. "So we did this whole trip for nothing, then?"

Y'shtola pulled a face. "I fear so. The creatures seem to be behaving as intended, and I think we should let them operate their function. We do not want Allagans technologies to fall into the wrong hands either. Letting the existing defenses do our work for us seems like the correct course of action. I simply wish we had a way of knowing that before actually investigating the disturbance."

"I imagine those creatures only wake up when the time freeze spell is firmly activated on the Tower's content. That would explain why I never crossed paths with them despite all the time I– the Exarch, spent there." 

"Well! I guess this answers the request of the Sons, then." The door shook once again, propagating the impact through Y'kahel's back. "But that doesn't really tell us how to escape them."

"Since they are defenders," started G'raha. "maybe we could distract them with another threat to take care of?"

"If we had contact with the outside world, I would have Krile send a mammet as bait. I just tried, and linkpearl communication seems impossible." Y'shtola let her hand drop from her ear and looked around. "Given the nature and the aetheric density of the place, it doesn't surprise me that much."

"So, we're on our own." 

"We are," continued Y'shtola. "but we are not without resources. I can create mirror images of us three, but I cannot conceal us at the same time. Could you handle that, G'raha?"

"Aye, but I cannot hold it for long, what do you have in mind?" 

"Make them follow phantoms of ourselves while we escape under the cover of invisibility."

Equal part proud of her friends and feeling inadequate in comparison, Y'kahel let them discuss the details of the plan, trusting them to come up with the best strategy, and herself to apply it.

______

The plan had worked, somehow. Having lured the beasts far from the path to the exit, they reached the now-familiar great hall before long. The large golden gates shuddered and opened with their –or rather G'raha's– presence, revealing the clear sky of Mor Dhona, painted pink by the sunset.

Y'kahel hadn't realized how much she had longed to see the sky. The real sky, not the one suggested by the sheer size of the Tower's hall. The sight of it, and of Krile waving her hand at them, was enough to lift a weight from her shoulder she hadn't realized was there.

"Phew. I must admit, I am glad this whole ordeal is over." said Y'shtola, echoing Y’kahel's thoughts. "I wonder what Tataru has schemed in our short absence."

Y'kahel smile at the thought and pondered out loud. "Ilmane was with her. I don’t know if that is ground for more or less worry, however." 

"I haven't heard from them all day." said Krile. "Given Tataru's propensity for worrying, I can only assume they kept themselves busy enough not to have the time for a linkpearl call."

The lalafell frowned and looked behind Y'kahel.

"What is keeping Raha?"

Y'kahel hadn't realized G'raha wasn't following them. She turned to search for him, and found him a good ten yalms behind them. Standing in the hall of the Tower, looking up.

The golden doors shifted and started to close.

Y'kahel heart dropped in her chest.

She lept, a shout dying in her throat.

In a vain attempt to slow down the gates, she grabbed her axe and threw it. The enchanted blade dug deep in the crystal floor, placing it in the door's path.

Would it be enough to slow down the doors' closure? She didn't know. She hadn't even considered the question. In the storm of her mind, only one thought was clear: I need to get him out of here.

Her stampede startled G'raha, who turned to face her as she came close, confusion and worry written on his face. Y'kahel barely noticed. She grabbed his arm and turned tail in the same movement, pulling him by the arm and the coat. The blood rushing in her ears covered his complaints.

She only slowed down when they reached their companions. Her heart was racing, her breath short. She hadn’t ran that long, why was it so?

She turned to see if G'raha fared well, but his look was like a punch in her gut. Confusion, worry, pain, and was that a dash of anger toward her? She looked around, realizing that nobody understood what happened.

How could they? G'raha was never at risk of being trapped in the Tower. The risk existed only in her head. Around her, she saw only confused and worried faces, asking things she couldn't hear still. 

Soon, her vision blurred as well, as tears filled her eyes. Stress, pain, adrenaline and fear coursed through her body with no outlet. 

A single sound pierced through the veil. Trapped in the inexorable course of the golden doors, the metal of Y'kahel's signature weapon bent with an otherworldly complaint, then shattered, sending pieces of metal to the side.

The thundering sound had everyone look away for a second, then turn back to her, watching her reaction with worry. 

Well, I guess it is fitting.

The thought hit her with an absurd levity and she could only chuckle. Tears filled her eyes, but she let them flow, as they didn’t choke her. Her half-laugh, half-sob filled the darkening skies as her three companions watched her, worried and confused.

Chapter Text

Y'shtola knew something was going on. She had known since the day she found Y'kahel in the house of a stranger. 

At first she simply attributed it to the tiredness of convalescence, although it was strange for the Warrior of Light to be that affected by such a simple flesh wound. But the days had passed, and something still felt off to Y'shtola. The more she observed the way Y'kahel behaved, the more she was convinced she was hiding… something .

But Y'shtola couldn't figure out what. And oh, how this grated on her! This feeling of having all the pieces in front of her and being incapable of painting a coherent picture. Of not knowing which piece was missing for the picture to make sense. So, she kept observing.

The first piece of the puzzle was Ilmane. The strange elezen woman who had saved and hosted Y'kahel when she had been wounded. A woman of contradictions: sharp, independant, strong-willed and unafraid to speak her mind, yet seemingly content to get carried away by the chaos of Y'kahel's life. 

Normally, Y'shtola wouldn't have focused so much on the subject. She knew that matters of the heart were a powerful motivator for many, but although she understood it intellectually, she often struggled to care enough to get invested. She had long since accepted that it never would be as important in her life as it seemed to be in the life of others. That didn't mean that she was blind to the mechanics and induced behaviors surrounding romantic attraction, however.

Y'shtola didn't fully believe in the romance between the two. Not that they were hostile with one another in any way, but she didn't see neither the tension and exhilaration of a new couple nor the comfortable closeness of an old one. They kept some sort of distance, of shyness between one another behind their facade of complicity. Ilmane herself had said that their relationship wasn't an official thing. So what was it?

Then came the subject of the Leveilleur twins' strange behavior. Sure they were always concerned about Y'kahel's well-being, but they seemed particularly adamant about being there for her convalescence this time around. The wound was far lesser than some she had suffered in the past, and Y'shtola hadn't expected them to abandon their self-imposed mission for it. 

Maybe it was a consequence of Y'kahel's last fight against Zenos? They had all been shaken by the event, and Y'shtola herself sometimes revived the scene in her worst dreams. The body of her friend, suddenly appearing on the ship, bloody and broken beyond lesure. The paralyzing chant of despair when a quick inspection had revealed at least three wounds that would have killed anyone else in a matter of seconds. The way she fought hopelessness in her heart every second of their battle against death. They rarely spoke of these moments, but she knew that it would follow each of them until the end of their days.

So maybe it made sense that the two Leveilleurs would want to be there to see their friend recover once again. 

The third puzzling part was G'raha involvement. 

To be frank, Y'shtola hadn't considered it a puzzling part until Y’kahel's reaction. It was a secret for nobody that G'raha was fond of the Warrior of Light. Whether or not this translated into romantic feelings for Y'kahel, and whether Y'kahel reciprocate those feelings, Y'shtola didn't know, and didn't care much. She had been happy to let them figure those answers for themselves until Y’kahel lost every ounce of rational thinking to save from the Crystal Tower the only living being who could control the edifice at will.

True, Y'kahel sometimes let her instinct precede her thoughts. But that time seemed different. Far from the hyper awareness and focus that Y'shtola had seen on display before, Y'kahel had seemed lost in her own mind. What was it about G'raha that triggered this… panic attack? Y'shtola hesitated on using the term, even in her own mind. It seemed alien to the very concept of Y'kahel.

And there lied the last piece of the puzzle: Y'kahel's recent behavior. Merry, making a show of her happiness to see everyone again, yet seemingly tense, skittish, fighting against an unknown tiredness from dawn until dusk and masking it. 

Something was weighing on Y'kahel's mind, and she was determined to keep it a secret. Y'shtola didn't think it was something that could affect the Scions. Y'kahel hated such manipulations, as Urianger discovered when his tricks had been revealed. She had been vocal in her disapproval of the elezen's method. Y'shtola could only conclude that whatever Y'kahel decided to hide, it was something personal. 

It wouldn't surprise her, the warrior rarely spoke of herself, and though it pained Y'shtola, she had to admit it was well within her rights.

In conclusion, Y'shtola had no idea what was going on in Y'kahel's mind, although she knew there was something . So, when the warrior started laughing uncontrollably, with some sobs mixed in, Y'shtola felt like she was about to have some answer. The perspective gave her some relief, despite how distressing the erratic behavior of her friend was.

“Gods damn it!”

The exclamation made her jump. Y'kahel was angrily wiping her tears from her face, chuckling all the while at some unseen dark irony.

“Ahhh, goddess help me. I'm such a mess, aren't I?” 

Y'shtola opened her mouth but found she could not find any word to speak. She didn't even know what idea or feeling she would wish to convey.

“Y'kahel! What happened?” 

G'raha was the first to recover the usage of his brain, and rushed to the rising Warrior. Close, but not enough to touch. Y'kahel simply shook her head, avoiding his gaze, and spoke.

“We need to go back to the Rising Stone soon, to avoid worrying Tataru. Could you help me recover the pieces of my axe?”

“Su-sure, but–” stammered G'raha.

“I… can we wait until we're back home before we talk about it?” Y’kahel looked at them pleadingly. “I owe you all some explanations but I'd rather not do it here.”

It was somehow reassuring to hear Y'kahel saying that. Admitting that there was indeed something to talk about. It indicated both that the Warrior herself was aware of it, and that she wasn't planning on keeping it under wraps much longer. 

Shook out of her stupor by this reassurance, Y'shtola quickly regained her focus. “Y'kahel is right. We would be more comfortable talking around a table. Besides, I'm sure Tataru would wish to be included in the conversation.”

Y'kahel nodded and, wiping the last tears on her face, rose up to start collecting the pieces of metal. “Let's move then. Be careful though, some pieces are quite sharp.”

Still shaken by the events, Krile and G'raha started helping in silence, picking shattered pieces carefully and packing the rest.

On the table, the dinner prepared by Tataru and Ilmane laid untouched, giving a wonderful aroma. Nobody dared reaching for it. All were waiting for Y'kahel to speak, but she seemed to be looking for her words in her food. 

The thought of starting her meal didn't even cross Y'shtola's mind. The anticipation for answers clashed constantly in her mind with the dread born from the few theories she had already started drafting.

She was trying to find a way to start the conversation gently when Ilmane placed a reassuring hand on Y'kahel's arm. To Y'shtola, it looked like an encouragement, a push to come forward, and a reassurance that she was supported. It corroborated the theory that Ilmane was in the know of some sort of secret that would explain all of the weirdness that had been going on.

Y'shtola had never really managed to move past her first encounter with Ilmane. The souvenir remained as a sour spot in her mind but she didn't exactly know why. Was it because Y'kahel had never bothered to describe her as a friend to Ilmane? Was it because they almost came to blows? Or maybe because of the faint disapprobation she sensed coming from Ilmane, though she would be hard pressed to know on which front Ilmane judged her lacking.

On her side, Ilmane didn't try to bridge the gap either. She remained perfectly cordial and agreeable when they interacted, but she never tried to approach her the way she approached all the other Scions. Y'shtola couldn't blame her. She had appeared at her doorstep, demanding entry and threatening violence to gain it. She didn't regret her actions but understood why it had displeased Ilmane and why she wouldn't want to approach her again. And on her side, she understood, respected, even, why Ilmane acted as she did, with the information she had at the time. 

But there was this distance still. And the feeling that Ilmane and Y'kahel shared a secret she wasn't privy to. It was illogical to hold onto bad feelings for this but… feelings had the tendency of refusing to follow logic. 

Extracted from her hesitation, Y'kahel shot Ilmane a thankful smile. She placed her own hand on top of Ilmane's, squeezing once before looking up at the gathering.

“First of all: G'raha? I'm sorry for dragging you like I did. I hope I didn't hurt you too much?” 

The scholar smiled, reassuringly. “Not at all, do not worry about it.” Y'shtola frowned slightly at the obvious lie. She had seen him rub his arm a few minutes ago, a wince on his face. 

The man was quick to move the conversation forward. Cautiously, he asked: “I am curious, however. What possessed you to act that way?”

Y'kahel grimaced, turning her eyes away. She designated the assortment of food in the middle of the table and asked Tataru, “Is it alright if we start eating while we speak? I'm famished.”

With the nod of the former secretary giving her permission, Y'kahel started working on preparing her plate. A form of avoidance, maybe? Y'shtola squashed her frustration. She would get her answers, no sense in rushing her friend to get them sooner. She opted to start her meal too, if only to give her hands something to do.

Out of the blue, Y'kahel started. “I have been having those episodes for a while now. Sometimes, something happens that reminds me of an old event and I… I panic and lose all sense of reason.

Episodes? What do they consist of? Blind panic? Could she hurt someone during these? Mistake an ally for a foe? Probably not, it seemed like she just overreacted. She didn't become delusional. I'll have to ask to be sure. “For a while”? That's vague. Months? Years? No, it's unlikely she could have kept it hidden so long. Probably after we disbanded the Scions then. What kind of events does she get reminded of? Traumatic events, most likely. But what even counts as a traumatic event for her? And what kind of “something” can trigger it? Situations? Smells? Sounds? 

Unaware of the storm in Y'shtola's mind, Y'kahel continued. “It occured for the first time at the Fortemps’ manor, during dinner. Something reminded me of… of the Banquet and I panicked. I dragged the twins out of the hall before they managed to make me realize that nothing was going on.”

So she can be pulled out of it. How did they manage? She seemed to have calmed by herself soon enough, this time. Anyway, the Ul'dah Banquet counts as a traumatic event. But that's so long ago! So much has happened since, does that mean everything can be…  How does the Fortemps dinner relate to the events? We didn't even have time to sit down and eat before the events of the Banquet started. Did something remind her of Nanamo's poisoning, perhaps? She was with her at the moment. 

The scene replayed in Y'shtola's mind, and she remembered the look in Y'kahel's eyes when she was brought back in chains from Nanamo's room. Incomprehension, grief and rage had haunted her eyes during their whole escape. Each time one of them remained behind to help her escape, her face had fallen a little more. Yet she went along with the plan. To be the last line of defense for Minfilia, most likely. 

But then, Hydaelyn had called Minfilia to her, leaving Y'kahel alone. Alone, with nobody to protect, and far too many friends who had sacrificed themselves helping her escape to ruin their effort by turning back. So, she had continued with her escape, eventually joining back with Tataru and Alphinaud and dedicating herself to their protection, before larger, scalier problems came knocking.

The realization shook Y'shtola. She had plunged into her thoughts with her usual gusto, and felt the pieces come together like she had just solved one of her scientific conundrums. But she felt little joy. The recontextualization of past events helped little in understanding the current situation, and the realization that her friend had carried such a weight without her notice, for so long, was sobering.

What else had she missed? She thought so highly of herself and her capacity to assess both physical and aetherical health with a glance. All of their recent adventures should have driven home this simple fact: emotional health was just as much if not more important than physical and aethereal health. How blind had she been to her friends’ struggles? 

Y'shtola had no easy answer for that question and, for the first time in her life, almost feared what she could find. She feared the realization of all she had missed. But she would not turn back. She vowed to herself she would reexamine all of their adventures with a keen eyes. She had already planned to write about it, for scientific purposes. She could use the opportunity for some self reflection and more personal notes. 

But, more importantly, she would be present for her friends in the future, rather than lament her blindness after the fact. And this started now.

Y'shtola forced herself out of her own mind. As reality-shifting the realization felt for her, it didn't mean that the world stopped turning for her account. In the meantime, Krile and Tataru had questioned Y'kahel about the specifics of her affliction. Y'shtola cursed her distraction, vowing to ask the lalafells in private afterward.

G'raha had stayed silent all the while, a pained expression on his face. Taking advantage of a lull in the conversation, he asked: “So, when I lagged behind in the Tower…?”

Y'kahel looked at him, but quickly averted her gaze, crossing Y'shtola's fugacely before focusing again on her hand still held by Ilmane. Nonetheless, she confirmed. “I panicked at the idea of you getting trapped inside. Which… is silly, now that I think about it, but…”

“But it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” concluded Y'shtola, remembering what Y'kahel told them of the way G'raha locked himself in the Crystal Tower before. Y'kahel looked at her and nodded, grateful for her understanding.

“Why didn’t you tell us about it?” Asked Krile, pained. “We could have helped you! Or support you through it, at the very least.”

Y'kahel flinched, and frowned. “I thought it would pass, with time. I already bothered the Twins with that when they already had their hands full with Garlemald's reconstruction. Plus, I didn’t want you to look at me like… like I was sick, or infirm. I just… I just want it to pass, gods damn it!”

It wasn't the first time Y'shtola had seen Y'kahel agitated. She had seen her well and truly angry against many a foe, or simply frustrated when a swindler mistook her for an easy target. Her anger ran high, in small outbursts that died quickly. She always calmed down easily, trading anger for focus, determination and oftentime, shame in her loss of control. 

This time was no different, and Y'shtola could see Y’kahel visibly deflate as Krile apologized. “I'm sorry! I didn’t mean to say that you owe us anything! I just thought maybe we could… help, you know?”

“No, no… I'm not angry about you, sorry Krile.” Y'kahel looked exhausted, barely managing to infuse some reassurance in her voice as her indignation rose up again. “I’m just… tired of this. It's so… so unfair! After everything, I should be able to rest! Allowed, to rest! Why am I suffering from that?! What punishment is this?!”

That's a good question. Why now? What changed from before? We lived through a lot of things during our last adventure but she isn't only reminded of recent events, old ones appear in her attacks too. So it can't be that recent events are just more painful than ancient ones… So what changed? Well… there is one variable I can think of, and the implications sound logical enough… 

“I am by no means a specialist, but I have a theory,” began Y'shtola. “Although please bear in mind that I am speaking of a subject that is well outside of my area of expertise and thus, I can only speculate wildly.”

The disclaimer clearly enunciated and the attention of the assembly gathered, the scholar continued. “As you all know, we were all subject to an unprecedented amount of Dynamis forces in Ultima Thule, the effects of which are largely undocumented. But one factor separates Y'kahel from any one of us. We were all… dissipated, then later reformed, thanks to her. She was also the one to face Meteion alone, after having transported us all back to the ship.

“Considering all this, Y'kahel was clearly subjected to a much larger amount of Dynamis forces. Such forces being born from feelings, we also know they are capable of influencing said feelings. In Meteion case, she used the despair and dread of dying civilisations to try and induce the selfsame despair and dread in others.

“Thus, here lies my hypothesis: what Y'kahel is experiencing right now is the result of said Dynamis forces. That she withstood it all and managed to triumph only speaks of her indomitable will and her dedication without equal. But, in hindsight, it was probably a bit naive to think that anyone could live through all of that with no consequences.”

The tirade left everyone around the table pensive. Y'kahel kept picking at her food distractedly, eyes vague and a slight frown born of deep reflection on her face. 

Y'shtola wasn't entirely convinced of her own theory. The logic behind it was sound, but the hypothesis was built way too hastily upon a shaky basis to be completely without flaw. The tendency to use a newfound knowledge to explain everything was a well-known bias into which enthusiastic but less rigorous researchers often fell. Y'shtola knew that, but she also knew that the best way to address such bias was to present the theory to respected peers, and let their own perspective be the hammer with which to destroy falsehood, before rebuilding a better theory together.

She hoped her archon friends would be perceptive enough to jump on the occasion, and was not disappointed when G'raha Tia finally opened his mouth.

“Your theory is not without merits, but I think there could be an even simpler explanation. I wasn't there to witness it all, but it seemed to me like there has never been a moment of calm for Y'kahel since joining forces with the Scions. Am I wrong?”

“Well… at least the pay’s good?” Y'kahel looked distinctly uncomfortable, fooling no one with her humor.

“You're right.” Intervened Krile. “When it wasn't the Empire threatening to invade, or an unknown magician pulling her friends out of their bodies, it was both at once.”

G'raha flinched and grimaced at the remark, but pursued his reasoning nonetheless. “Right, well, one thing that I remember from the First is that soldiers deemed unable to continue fighting often fared the worst after being taken out of the front lines. I've seen too many former soldiers suffering from the selfsame issues.”

He raised his head and looked straight at Y'kahel. “I am so sorry. We should never have left you alone to deal with this. I thought… that you could relax for a bit. I didn’t think that you, of all people would… well…”

Y'kahel scoffed, and spoke with a strangled voice. “Relax! What a relaxing vacation that was! I don't suppose you know of a remedy, then?”

G'raha lowered his gaze, and shook his head silently. The silence grew around the table as everyone thought about it.

The theory was sound indeed. Y'shtola hadn't thought about it from this angle, but could see the reasoning. Y'kahel was so used to pressure. Maybe her brain tried to find threats everywhere even when there was none? Another unstable theory, and Y'shtola failed to see a way to prove or disprove it. So she forced herself to try and find a solution…

But I know nothing about this.

The realization was equal parts sobering and exhilarating: there was a subject on which she was totally ignorant. She would need to read everything she could on the subject, consult specialists…

But that meant delaying her research on interplanetary travel. 

Ignorant of her internal dilemma, Y'kahel finally spoke, with faux-cheeriness. “Well, since there's nothing we can do, let's move on.

“There is another thing I need to tell you. But first, you must promise to hear me out until the end.”

Y'shtola sensed a mix of dread and anticipation at those words. She would have the answers she so desperately awaited. But she could feel that those new revelations would shake everything up again.

As Y'kahel spoke and dread pulled increasingly hard on her guts, Y'shtola could only think of one thing: 

How I wish I was wrong, for once.