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Chapter Text

Chapter 1 - Table of Contents -- This is the Table of Contents.

Chapter 2 - Day 1: Envoy
NSFW || Explicit || Elidibus/Amaurotine OC (Orphea)
CW: bondage, mild D/s, consensual voyeurism, consensual exhibitionism

Elidibus is enjoying a gift.

Chapter 3 - Day 2: Bark
SFW || Mature || Aymeric/Estinien/WOL (Sophie), WoL (Sophie)/WoL (Peeta)
CW: Character Death, suicidal ideation, body horror, grief, Bad End AU

Sophie returns from the First - without Peeta. Aymeric and Estinien have to catch her.

Chapter 4 - Day 3: Sway
SFW || Teen and Up || WoL (Ciara), Emet-Selch

When Emet-Selch offers her a way out on the First, Ciara reflects on her past.

Chapter 5 - Day 4: Off The Hook
NSFW || Explicit || Elidibus / Amaurotine OC (Pantalaimon) / Amaurotine OC (Orphea)
CW: Bondage, Wax Play

Elidibus continues to have fun with his gift.

Chapter 6 - Day 5: Barbarous
SFW || Mature || Aymeric/Estinien/WoL (Ciara)
CW: Past Non-Consensual Sterilisation - non-graphic, Garlean racism, Fantasy racism

Ciara reminisces about what was taken from her.

Chapter 7 - Day 6: Ring
NSFW || Explicit || Hythlodaeus / Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus / Azem
CW: Anal Sex

Hythlodaeus’ bliss gets interrupted.

Chapter 8 - Day 7: Noisome
SFW || Teen and Up || Aymeric / Estinien / WoL (Ciara)

It’s Ciara’s birthday. Aymeric bakes a cake.

Chapter 9 - Day 8: Shed
SFW || Teen and Up || Hien, WoL (Sophie) / WoL (Peeta)

Going from the snowy lands of Ishgard to Doma comes with its own challenges.

Chapter 10 - Day 9: Fair
SFW || Mature || WoL (Ciara)
CW: Garlean racism, implied torture, violence

Their uprising has failed and Ciara is back in the empire's hands.

Chapter 11 - Day 10: First Steps (Extra Credit)
SFW || Teen and Up || Haurchefant, Aymeric
CW: Injury, sick fic, injury recovery

In a world where Haurchefant does not die at The Vault, he takes many first steps on his long road to recovery.

Chapter 12 - Day 11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy
NSFW || Explicit || Aymeric / Estinien
CW: Brief oral sex

Estinien is not particularly fond of Aymeric’s cat.

Chapter 13 - Day 12: Dowdy
SFW || Teen and Up|| Aymeric / Estinien
CW: None

Aymeric sets up dinner for Estinien and a special guest.

Chapter 14 - Day 13: Check

NSFW || Explicit || Elidibus / Amaurotine OC (Pantalaimon) / Amaurotine OC (Orphea)
CW: Knife play, blood, blood licking, cock warming, vaginal sex, bondage

Elidibus’ gift is full of surprises.

Chapter 15 - Day 14: Clear
SFW || Gen || Estinien & WoL (Ciara)
CW: Sick fic, Injuries, Injury Recovery, Reference to past torture

On the Dravanian road trip, Ciara falls ill.

Chapter 16 - Day 15: Portentous
SFW || General || Aymeric / Estinien
CW: None

Estinien asks the impossible of Aymeric

Chapter 17 - Day 16: Jerk
SFW || Gen || Estinien & WoL (Ciara)
CW: Injury, Injury Recovery, References to Garlean Racism

A tough conversation between Estinien and Ciara.

Chapter 18 - Day 17: Mercy vs. Justice
SFW || Mature || WoL (Ciara)
CW: Garlean racism, implied torture

Their uprising has failed and Ciara is back in the empire’s hands… but this time her choice is different.

Chapter 19 - Day 18: Fish Out Of Water
NSFW || Mature || Aymeric / Estinien / WoL (Ciara)
CW: None

It’s the day Ciara’s been waiting for, so why does she suddenly feel like she can’t breathe?

Chapter 20 - Day 19: Weal
NSFW || Explicit || Aymeric / WoL (Peeta) / WoL (Sophie)
CW: Caning, cock warming, vaginal sex, oral sex

Sophie is a very good girl…

Chapter 21 - Day 20: Hamper
SFW || Teen and Up || Hythlodaeus, Amaurotine OC (Orphea)
CW: references to sacrifice

Hythlodaeus stops Orphea just in time.

Chapter 22 - Day 21: Grave
SFW || Mature || Estinien / WoL (Ciara)
CW: Garlean racism, references to past torture

While in Garlemald, Ciara visits a place she hasn’t been to in way too long.

Chapter 23 - Day 22: Fulsome
SFW || Mature|| Aymeric / Estinien / WoL (Ciara)
CW: Reference to temporary 6.0 death

After literally saving the world from the Final Days, all Ciara wants is to be in the arms of her husbands.

Chapter 24 - Day 23: Suit
NSFW || Explicit || Aymeric/Estinien/WoL (Ciara)
CW: Oral sex, vaginal sex

The light poisoning on the First has changed Ciara’s body; for her two lovers to explore and reassure her.

Chapter 25 - Day 24: Wilt
SFW || Teen and Up || Haurchefant/WoL (Sophie)
CW: Injury Recovery

Sophie helps Haurchefant to come to terms with his new life.

Chapter 26 - Day 25: Call It A Day
SFW || Mature || Aymeric / WoL (Ciara)
CW: None

While in Ala Mhigo, preparing for its liberation, Ciara is tired.

Chapter 27 - Day 26: Last
NSFW || Explicit || Elidibus / Amaurotine OC (Pantalaimon) / Amaurotine OC (Orphea)
CW: Orgasm delay, bondage

Orphea has to earn her reward by being good for Elidibus.

Chapter 28 - Day 27: Sole
NSFW || Explicit || Aymeric / WoL (Sophie)
CW: Whipping, safeword, reference to torture, vomit

Post-Vault, Aymeric is not as okay as he wants to be.

Chapter 29 - Day 28: Blunt
NSFW || Explicit || Estinien / WoL (Ciara)
CW: none

This is not the dinner date Ciara expected.

Chapter 30 - Day 29: Contravention
NSFW || Explicit || Amaurotine OC (Altima) / Amaurotine OC (Orphea) / Elidibus
CW: oral sex, D/s

Altima is not amused.

Chapter 31 - Day 30: Amity
SFW || Teen and Up || WoL (Ciara), Aymeric
CW: grief

Ciara visits the grave of her recently departed friend.

Chapter Text

Elidibus was delighted at the picture Orphea made. Her incredibly long, soft hair, a sea of soft pink and dark blue tips, was woven all over her body in intricate braids, some of it left loose to brush against her nipples. The braids were decoration and bondage at the same time, spread out like wings, pulled taut and tied to the bed frame. Her arms and legs were similarly spread out, tied with soft blue ribbons. There was nowhere for her to go.

“To think Altima didn’t ever mention you,” the Emissary crooned. He picked up a loose strand of hair and teased a nipple with its soft ends, drawing a moan from Orphea. “To think I had to find out from Pantalaimon what an utter delight you are.”

His hands wandered lower, cupping her cunt, a finger dipping into those soft folds, finding her wet and ready. Orphea arched up, shuddering as the movement pulled her hair further.

“Yes, I think I shall enjoy my gift tonight.”

On the other side of the room, across from the bed and in plain sight, Pantalaimon, tied to a chair with soft purple ribbons, was enjoying the show.

Chapter Text

The way from the Rising Stones to Ishgard seemed longer than usual. Sophie was in no state to use the aetheryte, so the Warrior and Y’shtola accompanied her. Her and… Peeta. She refused to think of him as just a “body”.

As they sat in the back of the private carriage, Peeta laid out, wrapped in purple sheets to their feet, Sophie stared blankly in the distance. She had no more tears left to spend. No more strength to cry. She hadn’t eaten since that fateful day. Hadn’t slept.

It had happened slowly, at first. A patch of skin that had turned white, scaly, almost like tree bark. They both hadn’t thought much of it, at first. They had both absorbed some of the Warrior’s light, trying to save her. But surely, it had not been too much to handle.

But then it had begun to spread. Sophie felt sick just thinking about it again. The way Peeta had changed, not just his body. The way he had gone eerily silent, nothing left of his cheerful, bright self, had been the worst.

Sophie was jerked out of her memories when the carriage came to a halt. She nodded a silent thanks at Y’shtola who picked Peeta up to carry him to the church. She followed them, numb, the Warrior walking silently besides her.

She asked to be alone with him when they laid him out to prepare him for the funeral. She had no idea how much time had passed since she had sat next to him, holding his cold hand. She had no idea how much time had passed when she heard a familiar voice. “Sophie.”

A firm hand on her shoulder. Firm, but gentle. “Sophie. They need to prepare him now.”

She barely managed a nod. This was not how she had imagined to return to Aymeric. Not how she had imagined their reunion. She held on to Peeta’s hand, only letting go when Aymeric’s strong arms picked her up.

Estinien was waiting back at the Manor. That night, no one got any sleep. They were both watching over Sophie. Holding back her hair when she was violently sick, even on an empty stomach, after recounting her memories.

She slowly told them everything. How she was the one to put Peeta to the sword. A mercy killing, when he had finally started to turn all the way, Y’shtola’s solution having been days too late to save him. How she had hoped the light would take her as well, so she wouldn’t have to come back, wouldn’t have to live in a world without him.

They held her and rocked her, when she finally broke apart, when she screamed and wailed and clawed at them.

They bathed her, washed and brushed her hair. They reminded her that she was loved, that they were glad she made it back, that they wanted her to stay with them. That Peeta would want her to stay. To live.

The morning after, Aymeric cooked her breakfast, and for the first time in days, she ate. For the first time in days, life - the will to live - seemed to return to her eyes.

They buried him underneath a wisteria tree. Peeta had always loved the flowers.

“I promise you. I will live.” She whispered, her voice weak and broken, and carved his name into the bark of the tree.

Behind her, Aymeric and Estinien wrapped their arms around her and held her until her tears dried once more.

Chapter Text

When it all becomes too much to bear, seek me out at my abode, in the dark depths of the Tempest. There, you may complete your descent into madness with some dignity, far from prying eyes.

Alone in her room, curled up in the pain she was concealing from everyone else, Ciara punched the mattress in anger. No, she would not give Emet-Selch that power, that control over her life again.

He’d controlled it before. When she was nothing but a mid-level soldier in the Garlean army. When she so easily believed in their goals, swayed by the power and promises of the emperor. Her emperor. She would’ve done anything for him, for Garlemald. For the glory of Garlemald, she added, with a bitter laugh. And she had. She had done anything hadn’t she? For Garlemald. And for her emperor.

Her emperor, who had been an Ascian the whole time. Her emperor, under whose rule she - and every Garlean who followed him just as blindly - committed atrocities that she’d willingly turned a blind eye on. Until Dale had forced her to see them.

Maybe that’s what Emet-Selch played on. Her past, her blindly following and believing him. But he would not succeed, would not hold any sway over her this time. She sat up, ignoring the crippling pain, hands balled into fists. No, back then, she’d sworn to herself to never give anyone that much power over her life again. Maybe Emet-Selch was right, maybe there was no way out.

But she had to try. She would come to him, in Amaurot. But on her terms. Not to die. But to fight. Once more.

Chapter Text

Elidibus was delighted at the picture Orphea and Pantalaimon made. The picture he had painted in the last couple of hours. The two lovebirds were hanging from the same hook, by their respective wrist cuffs, facing each other. Orphea’s long hair was braided in one long, thick braid and wrapped around the two of them, holding them close together. Their feet were barely touching the floor, just enough to give some support.

They were covered in blue and purple wax, as well as their juices - and Elidibus’. The very picture of debauchery. He wished he could capture it forever, but all good things must end.

“Easy now…,” he whispered to both of them as he gently lowered the hook, and did his best to catch them, making sure they were steady enough to keep standing for a moment while he unhooked them.

He carefully helped the trembling, shivering pair to a nearby pile of pillows and blankets and lowered them onto it. Cleaning and detangling of hair could wait. He curled around them, smiling as they clung to each other.

“Such a pretty canvas you two make,” he crooned, kissing each in turn. “I can’t wait until our next experiment.”

Chapter Text

In moments like this, at night, snug between her two lovers, Ciara sometimes wonders what could’ve been. There’s no point in crying over it, tears have long been spent and it’s better this way, anyway. She still remembers the moment, clear as day.

The healer in Ul’dah, who told her she could not, would never have children. Not because of a battle wound. Not because of a birth defect.

No.

Because of what was done to her at the hands of the empire she’d so fervently believed in.

She’s not even sure when it happened. Probably while the Garlean chirurgeons treated her after a battle. She didn’t know why they did it. Maybe because she was a female soldier. Maybe because she's a Miqo’te. Maybe both.

All she knows is that she will never bear her own children. She doesn’t even want to - her life is not a life for children or for a mother. But they took her choice. It should’ve been her choice. And it never was.

“And they call Eorzea barbaric,” she whispers. It’s only when both Aymeric and Estinien quietly reach out to wipe tears from her cheek that she realises she’s been crying after all.

Chapter Text

Hythlodaeus smiled down at the way his lover was lying boneless in his lap, leaning against his chest for support with Hythlodaeus cock still partly nestled inside of him. Hades' own seed was splattered all over his stomach and thighs. He had taken him, again and again until the honourable Emet-Selch was whimpering, begging, as he came dry, his cock merely twitching with his painful orgasm.

He revelled in the memory of Hades' cries as he had ravished him, taking him on almost every surface in his office, of the way his lover had been slowly reduced to the trembling mess he was now.

He caressed Hades' hair, kissing the top of his head, holding his hand to keep him grounded.

Just as his lover drifted off into sleep, the bell on the door rang. He ignored it at first, then a second, somehow more insistent, ring made him curse.

“Just a moment!” Hythlodaeus called out. He groaned as he slid out of Hades and straightened his robes, put the blasted mask on again.

He opened the door just a crack, making sure anything incriminating was shielded with his own body. Then he beamed as soon as he saw just who was standing in front of the door.

“Azem! I’m afraid Emet-Selch is not available right now due to being unconscious from the boning I just gave him. Please come back later.” His smile grew mischievous. “Or come in and keep me company while he recovers."

Chapter Text

Aymeric was humming happily as he measured out the exact amount of flour he would need for the cake. It was Ciara’s birthday, and even if she didn’t care for it, he did. And so he made sure to bake her a cake every year.

With the dry ingredients measured and sifted and mixed, he moved on to the wet. First, a cup of buffalo milk. Then two large eggs. The dodo eggs he had were a bit on the small side, so he’d have to use three of them. The first one went in just fine. But as soon as he cracked the second one open, he could see something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Instead of the usual bright yellow colour of the yolk, it was grey. Before he could react, the smell hit him. Worse than anything he’d ever smelt. Worse than any festering battle wound. Worse than any dirty chocobo barn.

He immediately dropped what he was doing and fled the kitchen to the bathroom.

Which is where Estinien found him only ten minutes later, still decidedly green around the nose.

“Aymeric?”

“Don’t go into the kitchen,” he warned the dragoon. Who was too stubborn to listen and soon it was both of them in the bathroom.

Which is where Ciara found them half a bell later. She couldn’t help but laugh at the picture both of them made.

“Don’t go into the kitchen,” they both said at the same time.

Ciara, never one to listen, braved whatever was waiting there. A few minutes later she came back to the bathroom, laughing. “I can’t believe you two are defeated by a single rotten egg. But worry not, your kitchen is safe again once more and the monster has been banished.”

She bent down to kiss first Estinien, then Aymeric on the forehead. “You know I don’t need a cake. But thank you anyway for the thought. Now let’s get some ginger tea into both of you and then if you must celebrate the day, let’s do it in bed. No more kitchen adventures today.”

Chapter Text

“I don’t remember… that much… hair from your last visit, Sophie.” Hien raised an eyebrow as he picked up another bunch of light blue, pink tipped hair, interwoven with dark blue strands, off the floor.

“I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just… we got used to the climate in Ishgard, you see.” She smiled at Peeta and paused from her own work of de-hairing the prince’s dining room to kiss the other Viera briefly. “You should see our bedroom.”

Hien laughed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing to be sorry for.” He looked down, shaking his head as there was more hair where he had just picked some up. “It’s just… it’s everywhere. Including one I found in my tea this morning.”

“It should be over in a day or two. I hope.”

“So do I. Or I fear we’ll be left with no hair on our bodies,” Peeta added with a wry grin. He paused to give Hien a good look. “I heard Sophie’s story of how you two met. I’m curious to hear your side.” He ignored Sophie’s gentle jab to his ribs, and picked up a brush to go over the cushions.

“The short version is, I found her all but crawling, trying to get on a boat to Kugane, ignoring the fact that she was literally bleeding to death from catching arrows with her body.” Hien looked over at Sophie, shaking his head. “Ivy - our chirurgeon. Loud, tall woman. You probably noticed her at breakfast. She patched her back up. I don’t think I need to tell you how hard it is to keep Sophie confined to bed rest.”

This earned him a glowering look from Sophie, and a jab into his ribs as well.

“It was even less possible to keep her from helping us in the revolution. So after she escaped the bed one more time, I gave up and put her to some light work. She’s a good tracker, she got us some valuable information. But she was still too weak to fight, even though she disagreed. So when it was time to attack…”

“...you put me on a boat back to Kugane, leaving me to worry whether or not you died.” She paused her work, and pulled Hien into a hard embrace. “And then I learned how you all failed and there was no word from you or Ivy or any of the others. This time, I’m not leaving. I’m staying and I’m fighting until this is over.”

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping you out of it,” Hien said soothingly. When she let go and pulled back, he gathered more of her hair, this time from his clothes. “I believe this is yours,” he said with a soft smile and handed the handful of hair to Sophie.

“That does sound like Sophie. She’s a handful. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Peeta smiled and reached up to cup Sophie’s face between his hands, wiping away the single tear that she’d shed.

Chapter Text

"I don't know why they wanted you captured instead of executed. A miqo'te whore. Was his cock worth it?"

Ciara didn't reply. She barely registered the words, didn't struggle as the soldiers put her into a collar that would inhibit her magic and chained her to a wall. She knew exactly why they kept her alive, heard about the experiments they would do on captives who could manipulate aether. Another thing she had chosen to turn a blind eye to.

She didn't care.

When she closed her eyes, she kept seeing it. The moment a soldier emptied his magazine into Dale's body. The way he fell lifelessly to the ground. They had already lost at that point, the Doman revolution failed.

It wasn't fair. It should've been her. It should've been her, for all the things she did for the empire. It should've been her, to pay for her sins.

She didn't register when they took her for experiments, day after day. She deserved it. This was her fair punishment. She'd betrayed the empire that was her home. It was only fair that she now had to suffer for it. They had taken in her parents, had given them a chance. A chance she threw away - for what? A charming rebel who had won her heart? A charming rebel from the very group that had killed her parents years ago?

She did register when one day, one of her captors didn't chain her to the wall. When she didn't put the collar back on her, leaving her free to use what little aether she had left after what they'd just put her through. It had to be enough.

"I can't let them keep doing that to you." She recognised the voice. Sarian, a woman in her unit. They'd used to spend their free time together. She was the closest Ciara had to a friend. "They're killing you piece by piece."

Ciara looked at her, her gaze as numb as her heart.

"You have a chance. Now. Use it."

The door was left open and she could hear Sarian causing a distraction. Ciara knew the facility well; it wasn't hard to find a full set of armour and sneak out. A few close calls, but thankfully no one looked at her too closely.

By the time they found her cell empty, she already was in the safe hiding place Dale had once shown her. Thankfully, it had remained undiscovered. It would give her time to treat her wounds and recover some strength while she was planning her next steps. She knew she couldn't stay here. She was a liability. She had to make her way to Eorzea, to start over. Again.

Another chance at getting things right. A chance that was taken from Dale, taken from so many others who died that day. Another chance for her, a Garlean soldier. A traitor to the empire. A miqo'te without a home, without a family. A traitor to her own race. A fraud.

Maybe it wasn't fair. But she had to keep on fighting. For Dale. For Doma. For her own atonement.

Chapter Text

The first step to recovery was when they finally let him eat solid foods again. Haurchefant had forgotten how good a simple piece of bread with salted butter could taste. He smiled at Aymeric, who was patiently sitting by his bedside.

The Lord Commander stopped by every day, giving him updates on what was going on in rapidly changing Ishgard. About miniature airships - manacutters - and later how Nidhogg was defeated by the Warrior, and of course Estinien.

That day, Aymeric seemed to be in a particular mood.

“The Heavens’ Ward is no more. And he is dead. It is finished.”

“That is good news. Ishgard can heal now,” Haurchefant offered with a smile. “And yet you look more forlorn than I thought you would.”

Aymeric returned the smile and briefly squeezed Haurchefant’s hand. “You are quite right, my friend. It is good news. I had just hoped it would not come to this. After all, in the end, he was still my father.”

“No.” Haurchefant shook his head. “Lord Borel was your father. The Archbishop never was.”

Aymeric simply nodded at that and silently offered Haurchefant more bread, then kissed his forehead as he left to attend his duties once more. “Thank you, my friend. I shall see you tomorrow, as always.”

The next step was almost a literal step. They didn’t let him try to walk quite yet, but they did let him move around in a wheelchair. This way it was him who was sitting at Aymeric’s bedside after he got stabbed. Of course no one could keep the Lord Commander down for long, and despite Haurchefant insisting he shouldn’t, Aymeric insisted on fighting in the Grand Melee.

“I enjoy your company, friend, but I don’t want to see you back in here after the fight.” Haurchefant said with a weak smile. “I’m sure they will lead Ishgard to victory even without you being there.”

“I know they will,” Aymeric conceded, pain still obvious in his voice. “We have the Warrior on our side. But what image would it send? The Lord Commander of Ishgard - too weak to fight even in a friendly battle.”

Haurchefant merely shook his head. “I have no illusion of being able to convince you of the opposite. Just know I will be cross if I have to wheel myself over here once more.”

By the time he had, once more, another friend to visit in the infirmary, Haurchefant had just taken his first shaky steps the day prior. He was still relying on walls and friends to lean on, and he had to fight not to gasp in pain at every single one of those steps.

But when he heard about Estinien and what had transpired, he couldn’t stay in bed himself. So he limped into the room where the former Azure Dragoon was recuperating. He was sleeping. Given everything, hardly a surprise.

“He sleeps a lot.” Haurchefant startled at the soft voice coming from the other corner in the room. Of course. Ser Aymeric. Sitting at a table, doing his paperwork here where he could be with his lover. “But they expect him to make a full recovery.”

“I’m glad.” He groaned as took a seat opposite of Aymeric, the short walk from the room opposite of Estinien’s had left him exhausted. “I will go back to Dragonhead tomorrow.” He held up a hand before Aymeric could say anything. “They said I am good to travel, as long as I take a carriage. And it’s only a short ride. But I will miss our daily talks.”

Aymeric gave him a soft smile. “Like you said, it is merely a short ride from Ishgard. And with everything that lies ahead, I will have to call on your help more than you will like.”

Haurchefant shook his head, smiling. “Rest assured, Ser Aymeric, Camp Dragonhead will always have your back. Whether it’s as Lord Commander of Ishgard, or whatever the future will hold for you.”

Chapter Text

"Estinien. Don't you think this is a bit much?" Aymeric raised an eyebrow at the dragoon's choice of clothing for their dinner date. He had spent all afternoon in the kitchen, cooking for both of them. A rare pleasure these days.

"No. And you know exactly why."

Aymeric smiled softly. “Estinien. Surely, eating dinner in full armour can’t be pleasant.”

“It’s more pleasant than being bitten by the devil again.” The devil in question was Aymeric’s black cat, Bartholemew, who was sleeping in his basket on the other side of the room.

“It was once. And it didn’t even pierce your skin, he was play fighting. Surely the future Azure Dragoon is not scared by a cat.” Aymeric conceded with a smile.

“And how would you like it if I was biting you while play fighting?”

Aymeric raised an eyebrow. “Do I really need to answer that, my beast?”

“Aymeric!” Estinien exclaimed and shoved his fellow knight off him. “Your devil bit my toe!”

Startled by the sudden outburst - and interruption of their foreplay - Aymeric merely saw a black shadow of an equally startled cat zooming out of the room.

“I’m sorry. I thought I closed the door.”

“Evidently, you did not.”

Aymeric chuckled and kicked the door shut before he started to kiss a line down Estinien’s body, pushing him back into the pillows. “Let me kiss it better, hm?”

Any further protest of Estinien was lost in moans and cries of pleasure when Aymeric swallowed him in one swift motion.

“Aymeric.” Estinien was mumbling, half asleep, half in a fever dream. He was recuperating in Aymeric’s bed, after coming down with something nasty.

Aymeric was asleep in the armchair, jerking awake when he heard Estinien call out for him.

“Maybe…” Estinien started, trying to find words. “Maybe the devil isn’t so bad.”

That’s when Aymeric noticed Barthomolew lying on Estinien’s chest, purring loudly and gently kneading the covers under which the dragoon was lying. “Maybe now you can try and remember his actual name, love,” he said, chuckling.

Chapter Text

Aymeric looked pleased with himself as he observed the stage that was set for their dinner guest. Usually, he would cook himself, but with everything going on in Ishgard, he simply hadn’t had the time. He had his servant arrange the dinner instead.

Estinien seemed less pleased with the arrangement.

“It’s a bit… old-fashioned, it’s all.”

“What do you mean, love?”

“The… plates. We are not 120 years old.” He gestured at the dishware in question, gold-rimmed and with a dark blue floral design on the edges. “I doubt you can woo her over with that.”

Aymeric blushed. “I am not trying to woo Ciara over, Estinien. Besides, I doubt anyone can. She’s more stubborn than a certain dragoon I know.” And even more close-hearted, he added in his mind.

Estinien shook his head and grunted. “If you say so. If you do not want to woo her, then the plates are just fine.”

“There’s nothing wrong with them. They’ve been used in the family for generations.” He ran a thumb along the edge of one of the plates, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Estinien recognised the look on Aymeric’s face and wrapped his arms around him from behind. “I’m sorry. I’m sure she will love the dinner.”

“Just try to get along with her, Estinien. Just for one evening.”

“I hadn’t planned on staying. She and I, we…”

“Please.” Aymeric turned around and planted a kiss on his forehead. “She will need a friend in the coming days. You are constantly clashing because you are too alike. Please give her a chance.”

Estinien frowned at the words Aymeric had chosen, but then nodded. “I will try.”

“Thank you, love.” Aymeric pulled Estinien into a kiss. “I appreciate it.”

He felt a lump in his throat as he thought about what he couldn’t say, couldn’t let Estinien know yet, lest he’d spend the rest of the evening and night trying to talk him out of it. That he was going to confront his father the next day. Knowing full well what that would mean for him.

Chapter Text

Elidibus was delighted at the picture Orphea and Pantalaimon made. Pantalaimon was strapped to the chair once more, but this time Orphea was straddling him, Pan’s cock filling her. She, likewise, was tied securely to the chair, trapping Pan underneath her, neither of them able to move.

Orphea’s long hair was parted in the middle, draped over her shoulders and cascading down Pan’s back. Her own back was bare, exposed to Themis. A perfect canvas on which he painted straight, thin lines with his knife. The cuts were shallow, just deep enough for drops of blood to well up, the scent of iron filling his nose.

Her skin was twitching wherever the knife touched her, then parted almost with an imagined sigh as he increased the pressure on the sharp blade, creating a precise checkered pattern on her skin. Each cut drew a moan from Orphea, but what fascinated Themis the most was Pantalaimon’s reaction to it all. He was licking his lips, straining as if he wanted to drink her blood. If only he could move.

Elidibus chuckled softly. “It would not do to let you go unsatisfied, Pantalaimon.”

He ran the dull edge of the knife over Orphea’s skin, gathering her blood on the knife’s flat side. He held it out to Pantalaimon. “Tongue. And don’t move.” When Pan complied, he very carefully put the flat side to his tongue, giving him a taste of his lover’s blood.

He was even more delighted at the couple’s reaction. When Pan turned his head to share the taste with Orphea, a strange tune seemed to come from inside of her, a delightful, sensuous, and downright erotic tune, making him squirm. He watched them with interest as the tune intensified, now intermingled with their moans and cries of pleasure as she pushed them both over, her muscles tensing around Pan as he spilled inside of her. Only when they were both gasping for air, hanging limp in their bonds, did the tune stop.

“You continue to be full of surprises, my dear songbird,” Elidibus crooned and ran a finger over the pattern carved into her back. “Let me take care of this before I release you.”

Orphea shook her head. “I’m fine, Themis. Let me…” she didn’t finish the sentence before a different tune filled the air, this one calming, soothing, and Elidibus beamed with delight as slowly, her skin healed, until the checkered pattern he’d so painstakingly carved into his canvas disappeared completely.

Chapter Text

At least a day away from civilisation – or the next aetheryte – and that’s when riding hard, there was nothing to do but to let the fever run its course. Of course Ciara had played down her injury from the fight against Ravana until it became too obvious that the wound she had refused to let Alphinaud look at had begun to fester for her to hide it any longer.

With Alphinaud and Ysayle gone to gather firewood - and medicinal plants that were growing in the vicinity of their camp - it was left to Estinien to watch over the miqo’te who was currently sleeping fitfully.

The Warrior that seemed to have caught Aymeric’s attention. Estinien grunted. He shouldn’t feel jealous. They both had had other partners before, she would be no different. If only he could understand what he saw in her. The stubborn, infuriating woman. Too stubborn even to take care of her own wellbeing.

He cursed underneath his breath when he saw that her bandages were seeping once more. It wasn’t his job, but with Alphinaud and Ysayle gone, it fell to him. When he lifted her shirt up higher, he flinched as he noticed the scars on her back for the first time. Those weren’t just battle scars.

He gritted his teeth and concentrated on the task at hand. But as soon as he so much as touched her, she flinched away from him and lashed out. She was awake, but her eyes were clouded, still feverish, and by what she was shouting about Imperial soldiers, she was still caught in a fever dream.

“Ciara,” he said as calmly as he could. His voice seemed to have cut through to her as she calmed down. But where she was frantic before, she was now shivering. Estinien decided that a fresh bandage could wait until Alphinaud was back with the plants. He gathered several blankets, then wrapped himself around her, sharing his warmth with her, blankets draped over them both.

He held her close all night, only letting go briefly when Alphinaud came back to let him tend to the wound. He held her close when she was caught in memories and nightmares again, knowing those all too well himself. Held her close when the fever reached a new high before it finally broke.

He still held her close when she woke up the next morning.

The relief he felt when finally a pair of clear purple and pink eyes looked back at him was almost palpable.

Chapter Text

“I knew it would be you.” Aymeric greeted Estinien when the newly anointed Azure Dragoon came home. Estinien was spending so much time at Aymeric’s whenever they were back in Ishgard, they both considered it their home at this point.

“Don’t.” Estinien held up a hand before Aymeric could so much as hug or kiss him. “We need to talk.”

Aymeric frowned, and when Estinien wordlessly went to the living room and sat down on the couch, Aymeric followed him. “I’m not supposed to talk about this. And you are not supposed to know this,” he starts. If it weren’t for the absolute forlorn look on Estinien’s face, Aymeric would laugh, would think Estinien was playing a joke on him.

“My lips are sealed,” he promised. “But what a portentous start to a conversation.”

Estinien took Aymeric's hands in his, a gesture so atypical for Estinien it immediately deepened Aymeric's concern. He stayed silent, letting Estinien find his words.

"Eventually the Azure Dragoons succumb to the will of Nidhogg," Estinien finally said, not knowing how else to word it. "The Eye, it can hold power over those who wield it. Corrupt them."

Aymeric shook his head, grasping Estinien's hands. "But not you, love. You're stronger than that."

"Let me finish. Please." At a silent nod from Aymeric, Estinien continued. "When that starts to happen, they usually are killed before the Eye can corrupt them further, before Nidhogg takes over." He held up his hand, stopping Aymeric from saying anything quite yet. "When that day comes, I need you to be the one to drive that lance into my chest."

Aymeric paled. He let go of Estinien's hands and shook his head, trying to find the right words. "I could never… You can’t ask this of me.”

Estinien tensed visibly. "Then who else? If not you, the one person I trust."

Tears were stinging in Aymeric’s eyes as his mind worked in overdrive, trying to find the right words. He drew Estinien closer, into a deep, hard, desperate kiss. “I love you, Estinien." This was not how or when he imagined to finally say those three words to his dragoon.

"You fool," Estinien replied even as he returned the kiss.

Aymeric held Estinien close for a long moment, breathing in his scent, feeling the muscles shift underneath his hand with every breath the dragoon took. Eventually, he pulled back to meet his lover’s gaze. “I promise,” he said, even as he let his tears flow freely now. “If the day comes, it will be me who will fulfil that final request of yours.”

Aymeric’s heart sank as he heard Estinien’s voice speaking Nidhogg’s words, saw his lance buried into Vidofnir, possibly ending any hope for peace.

He would keep that promise made so many years ago.

“Your bow.”

His voice was steady, not betraying the storm of feelings inside of him. His aim was just as steady, his teeth gritted as he loosened the arrow at Estinien’s heart… and missed.

Chapter Text

“You’re staring.” Estinien accused Ciara as they sat across from each other, having breakfast. Ciara was looking a lot better, no longer running a fever, and her wound was slowly starting to heal. They were still held up for a few more days as she was still in no condition to travel. And somehow, once more, Ysayle and Alphinaud were too eager to be out to gather supplies, so it fell to Estinien once more to stay back with Ciara.

Neither of them mentioned the night before - he wasn’t even sure Ciara had any memory of it.

“I’m thinking, not staring.”

“Right.” Estinien grabbed his plate and sat down on his bedroll instead, that was still damp with her sweat, and continued to eat.

Ciara grunted and dug into her own food. “Did you ever stop and consider that maybe Ysayle is right?” She didn’t even turn around to look at him when she asked the question.

“About being Shiva reborn?” Estinien scoffed at the mere idea of that disillusioned woman actually being Shiva.

“Yes, that is exactly what I meant,” Ciara snarked. She continued to eat in silence, before speaking up again. “Did you never think to question the church’s stories about dragons and the whole history? Or do you really just blindly follow everything they say?”

Estinien bristled and sat his plate down. “As if you’re one to talk.”

Ciara clenched her hands into fists and finally turned around to look at Estinien, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare. I’ve learned. And I’ve paid. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Neither do you.” Estinien countered. He got up, his whole body tense. He moved close to her, meeting her gaze, unblinking. “Don’t you dare ever tell me again I’m blindly following the church. Just because you fell into that very same trap.”

“Then why aren’t you open to even the slightest suggestion that maybe, just maybe, things did not happen the way your church tells you they did. Or that the dragons are not just hateful beings? Are you too blind to even consider a different viewpoint?” Ciara’s voice was calm, but her gaze was glowering.

“Were you blind when you followed an empire that held people of your own race as slaves?”

Ciara got up, biting her lower lip to stifle her groan at the sudden motion. “This camp is suddenly too small for the two of us, Estinien,” she said before she turned to leave.

He turned to follow her - just in time to see her topple over in pain. She’d only made it a few yalms. He grunted and held out an arm, which she reluctantly accepted, and helped her back to camp. “I won’t tell Alphinaud you ignored his instructions of bedrest if you won’t either,” he said dryly as he guided her to her bedroll and then busied himself with cleaning up the remains of their breakfast.

Chapter Text

"I can't let them keep doing that to you." Ciara recognised the voice. Sarian, a woman in her unit. They had used to spend their free time together. She was the closest Ciara had to a friend. "They're killing you piece by piece."

Ciara looked at her, her gaze as numb as her heart.

"You have a chance. Now. Use it."

Ciara took Sarian’s hands in hers and then shook her head. “No. Please, if you do this, they will know it was you. I’ve lost enough people who are dear to me.” She held out her hands to be put back into chains. “I deserve this. I betrayed those who gave my parents a future - and thus myself. A future better than what our kind usually gets.” She shook her hand. “I betrayed the values I fought for all my life. I deserve justice, not mercy.”

Ciara could swear there were tears in Sarian’s eyes when she put her back in her chains, put the collar back on that inhibited her control of aether. Not that she had much left after today’s experiment. Then her friend - her former friend - steeled herself, her voice colder than Ciara ever heard it before. “You are right. They are right. You are nothing but a miqo’te whore. You deserve what traitors get.”

It was the last Ciara would ever see of Sarian.

Her days continued to blend into each other. She continued not to care. Her body was failing her bit by bit; still they kept her fed, hydrated. The routine never changed until one day when she wasn’t brought down the hallways that were so familiar by now. Instead she was brought into an entirely different room, and when she looked up, her vision blurry as it had been for a while now, she saw the Emperor’s face staring down at her

He tipped her chin up with his finger, smiling. “I’ve decided to grant you one last chance to come back into the empire’s folds that raised your family from the dirt and prove your worth. Consider it my personal mercy.”

It was the first time Ciara felt anything since she came back here. When they brought her to what would be her room for a long time after, when the mercy she did not want was granted, she screamed.

Chapter Text

Ciara fingered the purple lace on her dress. It was the perfect colour, the corset hugging and highlighting her figure without being constricting. Both Aymeric and Estinien looked radiant in their formal clothes.

Then why did she suddenly feel like she couldn't breathe?

She sat down as a wave of nausea hit her, head between her knees and trying to take deep breaths.

"Ciara," Aymeric's voice cut through the haze. His hand was resting on the small of her back, offering warmth and reassurance.

She shook her head and looked up at him, brows furrowed. “I can’t do this, Aymeric." She looked between him and Estinien. “I’m sorry. I thought I could. And I still want to, but this…,” she gestured at her own clothes. “This isn’t me. I can’t be this.... This fucking princess. Not even for you.”

“Ciara,” Aymeric started again, his voice calm and soothing. “You don’t have to be anything. Not for me and,” he glanced at Estinien, “certainly not for Estinien.” He took both of his lovers’ hands and squeezed them as he came to a decision. “Let’s call this off.”

“No,” Ciara called out. “I still want…” Her protest was cut short by Aymeric capturing her mouth in a kiss.

“Just this formal circus,” he added with a soft smile. “I don’t need any of this to get married to the two people I love. I’m sure we can find a priest somewhere in Coerthas who can give us Halone’s blessing without the pomp and the circus.”

Estinien, who had been quiet the whole time, lifted his hand to place a kiss on Aymeric’s. “I can’t say I’m not glad. Because these clothes are ridiculous.”

Ciara smiled at Aymeric, relief written all over her face, her heart feeling a ton lighter. “Let’s… Just the three of us. No state affair, no Warrior of Light or Lord Commander or Former Azure Dragoon bullshit.”

Then she felt Estinien’s hands on her back, fumbling with the lacings of her dress. “Now, let’s get us all out of those clothes. We don’t need a wedding to have a First Night,” Estinien crooned into her ear.

“No, we don’t,” Aymeric agreed. He gathered up the skirt of her dress, hand slipping below and up her thighs. “Don’t you agree, darling?”

Her only reply was a blissful moan as she turned her head to find Estinien’s mouth and spread her legs further for Aymeric's exploring fingers.

Chapter Text

“Good girl,” Aymeric crooned, running his hand over Sophie’s back, making her shiver whenever he pressed a finger into the welts that were already rising up on her back.

Sophie was straddling Peeta’s lap, his cock sheathed inside of her. He was holding on to her hips, holding her still for Aymeric. Her arms were raised above her head, wrists bound to a chain holding them up. She whimpered, tried to roll her hips, needing to move, needing Peeta to move, but none of it was happening as his grip just tightened on her hips.

“You are to stay still, darling,” Peeta whispered into her ear and nuzzled her neck, then gave her what she wanted. Once. Just one single thrust, making her whine even more.

Behind her, she could hear the creak of leather as Aymeric raised his arm once more. Her only warning, a split second before the cane connected with her back. She screamed as pain blossomed on her back at the same time as Peeta bit down hard on her neck. She screamed as the pain mixed with the pleasure, making her soar higher, pushing her over. She screamed as her orgasm took her, her cunt clenching around Peeta, every muscle in her body taut. She cried out both their names, before her body went limp in the chains.

She came to a few moments later, on a soft, feathery bed. She found herself lying on her front, Peeta curled up with her, caressing her face and kissing her all over. Aymeric was massaging the healing salve into every single one of the welts on her back. Where his hands were bringing pain before, he was now almost unbearably gentle, whispering sweet nothings as he took care of her.

She was trembling, whimpering and moaning as she slowly regained more and more of her awareness. “Hey,” she said with a smile once she found her voice again and opened her eyes, looking right into those beautiful eyes of her lover.

“Welcome back, Sunshine,” Peeta greeted her with a chuckle, kissing her properly now. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I’m the luckiest woman on the star,” she replied, reaching out with one hand to caress Peeta’s face.

“I’m not so sure it’s not us who are lucky,” Aymeric said as he came to lie down on the other side of her, stroking and untangling her hair.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” Sophie asked. She grinned at Peeta as she turned on her side to face him. She kissed his neck, shoulders, down his chest until she was right over his mound.

“Fury,” she heard Aymeric curse behind her just as Peeta started to feed his cock into her mouth.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing here?” Orphea heard Hythlodaeus’ voice behind her. She startled and turned around, giving Altima a sign to go ahead, that she would follow later.

“The same as you, I would imagine.” Her voice was steady, determination written all over the way she held herself. But there were tears in her eyes behind her mask, the starlight in her eyes dull. She had hoped, prayed that Pantalaimon would return before today. But he hadn’t. So a letter was all she could leave for him.

Pantalaimon,

Pan, darling, my love, my everything, the other half of my soul.

I have no illusion that you will forgive me, but I hope you understand. I was hoping so fervently that you would make it back in time, that a letter is not the last you would hear of me.

I have decided to join the others in the sacrifice. It is the only way to secure a future for you and Azem. Only if we can stall the Final Days, can you live. And I need you to live, Pantalaimon. To live for both of us.

Please, make the best out of it. Live, love, and never forget me. I will always cherish the time we had, and what a time it was. I will always carry you with me, our souls joined for eternity. As you will carry me with you. So this is not a goodbye, as I know I will continue to exist through you. I love you. More than you can ever imagine. This is why I have to do this.

Always yours, always singing and soaring for you,
~~Orphea

“Orphea, no.” Hythlodaeus grabbed her hands, his eyes pleading with her. “Don’t. Pan will need you in the coming days.” He started to guide her back out of the gathering place, gentle at first.

“I made up my mind, Hythlodaeus,” Orphea said. She looked around, looking for Altima as if hoping for her help. “I have to do this. For us, for Pantalaimon, for the Star’s future.”

“Orphea,” Hythlodaeus tried again, and all but pulled her back towards the entrance as he talked. “Think of Pantalaimon. Think of what losing both of us will do to him. I need you to be there for him and keep him from falling apart.”

It’s not that she hadn’t thought of Pan. She had thought of no one else in the past days; she did this for him, so that he could have a future. Hythlodaeus' words made her heart ache, and she faltered. She slipped down her mask as her tears flowed freely now. She felt physically sick at the thought of what she almost did to Pan. She pulled Hythlodaeus into a kiss. “Thank you. I… Good-bye, my dear friend.”

“Take care of Pantalaimon,” he replied with a smile. He stayed long enough to make sure that Orphea was really leaving before he disappeared in the crowd.

Orphea felt him tugging at her soul, her very heartstrings. He was like a new tune, a new melody that was woven into her own. He sang to the very core of her being, he sang a dark song of salvation. He was all that mattered now.

She turned around, to bask in his glory and when she fell on her knees she whispered his name. “Zodiark.”

Chapter Text

“I’ve been looking for you.”

Ciara didn’t seem to register the voice behind her. Only when Estinien placed a hand on her shoulder did she turn around. “I’m sorry. I had to… visit. It’s been too long since I could.”

Estinien looked at her, head cocked, as he surveyed their surroundings - a ruined city, as Garlemald was these days. On the surface, there was nothing special about this spot. And then he noticed three lilies that she had placed there.

“Ciara,” he whispered and knelt down next to her. “Is this…”

She nodded. “An unmarked grave. Better than miqo’te usually got.” She turned to face Estinien. “Unmarked, uncoffined. Just thrown into a shallow grave.” She ran a hand over the patch of dirt. “But at least it’s their own.”

Estinien tightened his grip on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry, love. They deserved better.”

“Did they, though?” Ciara turned to look at him. “I never asked them just why we were treated better. Though I can guess. There was little that was more valuable to the Empire than information and good spies, safe from magic.”

“Ciara, don’t…”He tried to find words, then decided against it. “The third lily? Dale?” he asked, instead, hoping to pull her back from the darkest corner of her mind.

She nodded. “Dale. No body. But it’s all I have. He… he was my everything.”

“I know.” Estinien hugged her tight from behind, pressing more kisses on the top of her head. “I wish I could’ve known him. The one to so thoroughly sweep you off your feet to have you…”

“It’s you, isn’t it? The whore?”

Whatever Estinien was about to say was cut off by a gruff voice; a Garlean, about Ciara’s age. He balled his hands into fists, ready to strike when Ciara’s hand on his shoulder held him back. “Let me deal with him, Estinien.” She got up and faced the soldier.

“Maybe that’s all I am to you.” she said, her voice calm and steady. “And yet it’s me who’s here to try to save your sorry ass, even though your people treated me - and others like me - like scum even when I was fighting alongside you. Even though you enslaved those who are like me. And now you have the audacity to show up at my parents’ grave to insult me. You better go.”

The man however, did no such thing and Estinien couldn’t help but be impressed at his stupidity. Instead, the soldier apparently decided to twist the knife he thought he was holding. “I better go… or what?” He grinned. “Oh, you really don’t remember me, do you? But I remember you, and how you screamed in my lab, day after day. Until that other bitch let you go. You know we made her pay for that?”

Estinien saw it coming. The Garlean didn’t. He was about to start with the next part of his tirade when Ciara’s fist connected with his jaw, and he fell to the ground, limp. “Let’s go.” She took one last look at the grave, and the lilies, then grabbed Estinien’s hand and made her way back to camp again.

Chapter Text

It’s all too much. The fulsome praise, talk of celebrations once her broken body is healthy enough to attend - a courtesy she could do without - the way she is all but worshipped.

“I can’t do this,” she whispers and her two husbands tighten their embrace in response. They are coiled around her, one on each side of her. They claim to be here for her comfort, but she knows they are also here to make sure she keeps the bedrest her body needs.

“Mmmhmm, but I’m afraid this time we can’t steal you away to a remote place,” Aymeric mumbles against her skin and gently kisses her neck. “If you call the celebrations off, they will never stop hunting you. Give the people what they want, give them a glimpse of the Warrior they worship. Say a few words. Still their hunger.”

“But what am I to say, love? I did what I had to do. And I did less than Estinien, less than the other Scions.” She turns to cares Estinien’s face, wincing as the lightest movement still sends pain through her body. “I didn’t sacrifice myself.”

Even now, days later, she still finds herself checking every now and then that Estinien is, indeed, still here. Still alive. That he is not a figment of her imagination, that he is not another fever dream.

“I’ll write the words for you if you want,” Aymeric offers. “You did more than you let on, Ciara. You fought on, you walked on, in circumstances I don’t even want to imagine.” He glances at Estinien, feeling the pain in his heart again when he remembers another time he almost lost him as well. “You went through hell and back. And I for one am glad that you found your way back to me. Both of you.”

“I’m not a hero. Never was.” Ciara shakes her head. “I just want to be here with the two men I love. No more worship, no more politics. No more time travel. No more fighting of Gods. No more travel to other dimensions and no more Ancients. I just want to be me.”

“Then let’s be just that. For a few days, at least.” Aymeric kisses the top of her head.

“Aye, Eorzea can wait,” Estinien agrees, kissing her forehead.

“And once you are healed and whole again, we will praise you in the best way we know,” Aymeric adds, his voice silky in her ear.

“I can’t wait,” Ciara mumbles, the short conversation already taking its toll and even as she tries to fight to stay awake, to cherish every moment with her husbands, she falls asleep in their arms once more.

Chapter Text

Ciara wasn’t someone to be ashamed easily, let alone by her body. But at that moment, she felt weirdly self-conscious. It’d been a few days since her - and the Scions’ - final return from the First. And finally, she had a moment alone with her two lovers, sitting between Aymeric’s legs, leaning back against him, his embrace warm and comfortable. The moment she’d been aching for. Then why was she so nervous?

“I think,” Aymeric whispered behind her, his fingers trailing over the new, white markings on the scarred skin of her back. “It looks like a master painter’s work.”

“Or a map, veins of silver leading to the ultimate treasure,” Estinien agreed, his fingers trailing the similarly white markings on her belly. Like a strike of levin, the light had left veins of pure white on her dark skin - they were on her back, over her right breast, her stomach, her left thigh. “I wonder where it leads…”

Ciara shook her head, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. “Please, I…” Whatever she was going to say was cut off by Aymeric gently turning her head so he could kiss her while Estinien’s fingers continued their exploration. She sighed and leaned back against the Aymeric, all protest forgotten when his fingers trailed over the markings on her breast.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered. “You don’t mind our battle scars, so why would we mind yours? Each of them tells a story, good or bad, and I just see more stories now.”

“And you don’t mind the way I changed after Nidhogg,” Estinien added, a gleam in his eyes. “In fact I remember you enjoying some of those changes very much.”

“As we will enjoy the way your body has changed,” Aymeric agreed with Estinien.

Estinien has started kissing the lines on her belly, going lower, until he was right over her mound. She sighed as Estinien’s mouth hovered over the apex between her thighs, his breath hot on her skin, and she spread her legs wider for him. She arched up when Aymeric gently pinched her nipples. “Now let us love you and map out your new markings.” His voice was silky in her ear, drowning out any residual shame she was still feeling.

Sighs turned into moans when Estinien gently parted her folds and licked and sucked at her most private parts. “I think I found the treasure,” he growled against her skin, before his tongue darted into her. She grabbed Aymeric’s thighs, needing something to hold on to, her head bent back to kiss and nibble at whatever part of his body she could reach. HIs neck, his shoulder, she didn’t care. She just needed to be close to both of them.

“We’re here…,” Aymeric whispered as he drew her closer to him, arms wrapped around her, his lips finding her mouth again. He held her, caressed her, kissed her when Estinien got into position on top of her and finally entered her. He placed soft kisses on the top of her head, on her ears, gently nibbling at them when she moved with Estinien, her hips meeting his thrusts, her tail wrapping around the dragoon’s waist to keep him close. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear when the pleasure overwhelmed her, when Estinien’s hot seed filled her and she came together with him, her orgasm a mere sigh on her lips, her body taut, her hands and tail gripping Estinien tighter.

They spent the rest of the day like that, intertwined, worshipping their bodies, catching up on lost time. “I don’t deserve you,” Ciara finally said. She was lying between her two lovers, idly stroking a line down Estininen’s back, tracing one of his scars. “And at the same time I dread losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose us if we get any say in it,” Aymeric replied. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“Don’t you think I don’t see the way the Ishgardian bachelorettes vie for your attention?” Ciara said. She turned around to face Aymeric and she felt Estinien turn with her, felt him wrap an arm around her. “You deserve someone who is worthy to represent the Lord Speaker. Who can - and wants - to give you the children I neither can nor want to give you. Nor do I want to play your First Lady. You deserve someone whose job does not take them away from you for weeks at a time. Whose body isn’t more broken each time she comes back. Who-”

Any further words were cut off as Aymeric placed a finger over her lips. “Enough,” he said. He glanced at Estinien over her and apparently got a silent answer from him as he nodded in return. He kept his finger on her lips. “This isn’t how I - how we - wanted to do this by far. But sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants.” His expression softened and he took one of her hands in his. “Ciara, if you think I want a state wife who is only there to represent me and bear my children - you are sorely mistaken. Because it’s you, I want.”

He got up and out of the bed, and she felt Estinien stir behind her as well. Before she could comprehend what was happening, they were both on one knee in front of their bed. She sat up, her heart caught in her throat.

“It’s you, we both want,” Estinien said, holding one of Ciara’s hands as Aymeric grabbed her other one.

“Will you accept our suit and give us your hand in marriage?” Aymeric looked up at her, and Ciar could swear she never saw him - or Estinien - that nervous as they waited for her answer.

“You fools,” she said, tightening her grip on their hands. There were tears stinging in her eyes as she nodded. “I accept.”

Chapter Text

"You are not broken," Sophie said, her voice firm. She was sitting opposite of Haurchefant at his desk. The Warrior had sent her to Camp Dragonhead, hoping she could talk some sense into the Commander. "You are not broken and if you keep saying that I might have to hit you."

He had been back at the Camp after recovering from his injuries at the Vault for a few months now, but still he had to use a cane on good days or a wheelchair on bad days and longer stretches. Auleanne, the camp’s healer, had made it clear that Haurchefant would never see a battlefield again. A fact the Commander was still struggling to accept.

"You wouldn't hit me, Sophie, we both know that," Haurchefant replied with a laugh, only to be rewarded with a light cuff to the back of his head.

"Try me." There was a soft smile on Sophie's face. "I refuse to watch you wilt. You might not be a fighter anymore, but you have so much more to give than your shield."

"Yes, endless mountains of paperwork," he replied with a groan.

"And recruits to teach how to fight, tactics, all the fun things." She smiled and reached out for his hands, squeezing them. “You are loved and admired by everyone here in this camp. They need you here, you are the heart and soul of Camp Dragonhead.” She leaned over the table to kiss him. “The place would be empty if you just gave up and retired.”

“You keep your left side open, still,” Haurchefant said after a long moment of silence.

“What?”

“I watched you and Peeta spar this morning. Your left side is weak and you kept it open to his attacks.” He smiled at her; a smile that reached his eyes this time. “It’s not the first time I tell you that, Sophie. You really need to work on that.”

Sophie returned the smile, squeezing his hands again. “Will you help me with that?”

Haurchefant leaned in to steal another kiss from Sophie. “Happily.”

Chapter Text

When Ciara came back into their room, Aymeric noticed immediately that something was wrong. She tried to hide it, greeting him with a small kiss, but she could see the way she held herself, see the way her muscles were tense.

“Ciara?” he asked, inviting her to sit by his side.

“It’s nothing,” she said, joining him. But the fact that she immediately leaned up against him, head on his shoulder, told her it was not nothing.

“I might not have known you for as long as I’ve known Estinien, but I know both of you well enough to know that when you are affectionate like this, unprompted, something is up.” He turned to look at her, noticing how tired she looked. How much she was just done with everything.

“It’s…” She sighed. “My past is catching up on me.”

Aymeric frowned and took her head between his hands. “What happened?”

”Murderer!” A voice called after her. Ciara turned to look into the face of a male miqo’te, like her a Keeer of the Moon, a few years older than her. “Traitor!”

“I’m sorry, can I help you?” she asked, not able to think of something to better say, faced with his fury.

“You walk around, all self-important, the Warrior of Light, but I know who you really are,” the man spat at her feet. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember me, but I remember you.”

Ciara didn’t react, not even when he spat at her, a sinking feeling in her stomach what this was about.

“You and your Garlean buddies, you killed my family, you took my home, you took everything I had. I remember you, because there’s not that many miqo’te in their army, are there? What did you get for it, hm? A nice life? A gilded cage? Was it worth betraying your own race for that?

She let him talk, she even would’ve let him hit her had he tried. Once he was finished, she looked at him for a moment longer, her expression soft and full of sorrow, trying to find the right words. “I too have lost my family in the war. I know your pain. I know that nothing I can say will ever be enough. I can only beg that you accept my deepest regrets and apologies. And that you accept our help, with the liberation, with rebuilding.”

His response was exactly as she expected - he spat at her face, then turned around, gripped in fresh grief. She couldn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry,” Aymeric started before Ciara interrupted him.

“Don’t. I did all those things and worse. I’m not even asking for second chances, just that they trust the Alliance and let you help them.”

“You are not that woman anymore, Ciara,” Aymeric said, drawing her into an embrace.

“No, but to them I always will be.” She sighed and kissed him. “I’m just so tired.”

His kiss was tender as he pulled her closer. “Then let’s call it a day. The meetings and negotiations can wait, I’ll call them off. And you let me take care of you for the rest of the day. And show you how loved you are.”

She smiled and nodded, the exhaustion now clearly written on her face. “I would love that.”

Chapter Text

Elidibus was delighted at the picture Orphea made. Spread out on his bed, her ankle-length hair left open and feathered out beneath her lithe form. Legs and arms tied with blue silk ribbons, clamps - connected by silver chains - decorating her nipples and her clit.

He had his fingers inside of her, spreading her open, teasing, hooking to find that spot to make her cry out.

“Good girl. You remember the rules so well.” She was not to come until he said so. He’d been keeping her on edge for nearly three hours by now. Always teasing, then pulling back.

Pan was, once more, tied to the chair he was so familiar with by now, relegated to watching. For now. The boy’s cock was erect, a cock ring adding to his torment. He licked his lips when, once more, Elidibus brought Orphea almost to her peak, her cries filling the room, as did the scent of her arousal. “Themis…,” he moaned. “Please…”

“You know the rules as well, Pantalaimon. You get her, if she lasts as long as I desire her to last.” Elidibus’ smile was sharp as he gave the clamp on her clit a harsh tug, setting her up to fail. His smile grew cruel as, just as expected, she was pushed over the edge. After hours of being edged, she came, her cry accompanied by desperate music filling the air, the starlight in her eyes flashing in every colour of the rainbow.

Elidibus’ eyes widened as he saw her body almost shift, almost as though she was starting to transform, for a split second as she was completely losing control. When she regained it again, her eyes were focused on Pantalaimon, muscles straining as if to reach out to him.

“You know the rules, Orphea,” Elidibus reminded her again. “You disobeyed. Pantalaimon was supposed to be your reward. Instead, all you earned is your punishment.”

He untied Pan and, making sure Orphea can clearly see both of them, lowered himself onto his rock hard cock, taking from Pan what Orphea had not earned and did not deserve.

Chapter Text

Aymeric felt his hand shake slightly as he picked up the whip. Sophie was kneeling prone on the ground before him, her ass up in the air, arms spread in front of her. He could see, smell how wet she already was. How much she wanted this. It wasn't as though they played like this for the first time either. He knew how much Sophie enjoyed the pain he could deliver. How much she enjoyed the whip.

They'd spent a perfect evening together, just the two of them for once, while Peeta and Estinien were off on their own date. It was the first time since he'd got to know the hospitality of the Heavens' Ward that he was truly alone with Sophie.

And this was supposed to be the perfect end to a perfect evening. Then why was he nervous?

"You'll look so gorgeous, all bruised and hurting just for me," he crooned as he trailed the tip of the whip over her skin, watching goosebumps rise, listening to her moans, listening to her beg.

He pulled the whip back, gripping it tight. All shaking was gone as he brought it down on that pale skin of hers.

She screamed in pain and ecstasy, asking for more.

She screamed in pain and ecstasy.

She screamed in pain.

She screamed.

A sole scream. It was all Aymeric heard, all he noticed and it made him freeze, made him ill. He dropped the whip, dropped to his knees, heaving. "Red," he managed to say, but Sophie was already next to him.

"Focus on me, love," she helped him to the bathroom and caressed the back of his head - avoiding touching his back - when he was sick, leaning over the toilet. She washed him and guided him to his bed.

"I'm sorry, Sophie. I want to give this to you again,” he murmured as he laid down on his side, facing Sophie who was curled up against him.

“Don’t, Aymeric,” Sophie whispered. She cupped his face in her hands, kissed his nose, caressed his cheek, wiping away a single tear. “I love you for who you are, not for what we do in the bedroom.”

“When you screamed, I…,” he choked back another tear. “I tried to hold out. With the Ward. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing my screams. And yet, I broke.”

“Everyone would have, love,” Sophie replied, her voice soft. She didn’t mention that the echo had shown her what he went through, that she had felt every bit of it. He thankfully had been still out of it when it happened. “You are strong, but no one is strong enough for that.”

She held him when he broke again, in her arms. She held him as he cried. She was still holding them when Peeta and Estinien came back. They exchanged silent looks with Sophie and when she nodded, they joined them in the bed, Estinien wrapping himself around Aymeric, Peeta curling up around Sophie.

Chapter Text

While having Estinien join their dinner was not unexpected - after all he pretty much lived with Aymeric at this point - what was unexpected was the Lord Commander being called away in the middle of it.

He said all the right words of being sorry about it and on the surface seemed all apologetic, but Ciara was not that easily fooled. Neither was Estinien.

“He’s not coming back, is he?” Ciara asked, looking at Estinien, then at the door that had closed behind Aymeric.

“No,” Estinien grunted.

“What now?”

“Now we eat. In silence. ‘t would be a shame to let Aymeric’s cooking go to waste. Then you go home.”

Ciara nodded in agreement and continued to eat in silence. Every now and then she glanced at Estinien. Every now and then her eyes met his, both of them immediately looking back down at their food as if suddenly very interested in it. Every now and then, she found herself looking at him longer than just a brief glance.

"This is ridiculous," she finally said, putting down her cutlery. "What does he think to accomplish by tricking us into this?"

"He claims we have a lot in common," Estinien answered. "Which is absurd."

"For once, I agree. And just because we're both with him, doesn't mean…"

"No, it doesn't," Estinien cut in, a little too hastily.

Ciara picked up her cutlery again, then hesitated, looking at Estinien once more. "I remember you holding me that night when I was sick."

"I was merely warming you."

"I know. I was not nice to you the next morning, though."

"You couldn't have known." Estinien furrowed his brows, eyeing Ciara. "Why are you bringing this up?"

"Maybe Aymeric is right. We could at least prove him wrong."

"We could."

Ciara shook her head. "We shouldn't."

"No, I agree."

There was more silence, long minutes of it, as they both continued to eat, actively avoiding looking at the other one.

"Fuck this and fuck Aymeric," Ciara suddenly said. She got up and, reaching over the table, grabbed Estinien by his shirt and drew him into a kiss. A kiss that was followed by many more. Kisses, followed by touches, followed by moans and cries ringing through the manor.

When Aymeric came back, a few hours later, he found a half eaten dinner and his two lovers sleeping in his bed, the musky smell of sex still heavy in the air.

Chapter Text

Elidibus was secretly delighted at what he saw when he entered Altima’s office. He had knocked, and after Orphea’s voice bid him to come in, had opened the door to find Orphea sitting naked on Altima’s desk.

“Elidibus!” she exclaimed and scrambled to find her robe to cover up herself. “You’re not… I was…”

The emissary simply smiled. That sharp smile that Orphea had learned to fear and anticipate at the same time. “Altima will hear of this gross misconduct,” he said and left.

Orphea didn’t have to wait long. She had put on her robe and mask, and had just started to work on the latest concept to submit to the bureau when Altima came in.

“Apollonia,” Orphea started - and immediately regretted calling her by her name when she noticed Elidibus entering the office behind her.

“You are not to call me that in public or polite company. This is your second strike today, Orphea. I would be very careful about my next words if I were you.” Altima stood behind Orphea, a hand on her neck. “Now, apologise to the emissary.”

Orphea turned her neck to look at Altima, then back at Elidibus. “I apologise. I went too far.”

“I trust it will not happen again,” the emissary replied. His voice and body language was stern, but Orphea had been with Themis often enough to recognise that twinkle in his eyes. Just as she knew what Altima wanted when her hand went from her neck to her shoulder, pressing down on it.

“It will not,” Orphea said. She obeyed Altima’s unspoken command and slid off the chair she was sitting on to kneel, facing her.

“I think you know how to truly apologise, don’t you, dear Orphea? First to me, then to the emissary. And then we will see if the two of us are satisfied.” With that, Apollonia parted her robes to reveal her bare cunt and moaned when Orphea went to work with her skilled tongue.

Chapter Text

The grave was still fresh, the earth still loose. Ciara knelt, putting a lily on it, and bowed her head

"Thank you. For being a friend. You will never be forgotten."

There were no tears, just a smile as she thought back on the past months. How Haurchefant had been the first - and only - one to treat her as a person, not the Warrior of Light everyone else wanted her to be.

She thought back on evenings spent together, drinking hot cocoa and sharing stories. She had been reluctant at first, not wanting to open up, but there had been something about him. Something that had won her trust.

She remembered honest smiles and honest criticism. A belief in everything that was good in this world. "It should be me in this grave. You had so much more to give…"

"So do you," a smooth voice said from behind.

“The last time I checked the chirurgeon had not given you the clear to be up,” Ciara said without turning around. Despite her words, her voice was soft.

“I missed his funeral. They can’t keep me from visiting my friend’s grave.” Aymeric knelt down next to her, his lily joining hers. “He saved my life more than once,” Aymeric eventually said after long moments of silence. “Only for me to fail to save his in the end. He talked a lot about you, you know?”

Ciara turned to look at Aymeric. “He was my friend as well. The only one to see me for who I really am, not for what they want to see.”

“If you allow yourself to see it, you might find you have more friends than you think.”

Ciara smiled wryly. “What if I’m afraid of finding out you are right about that?” She regretted her words immediately. These were not the words of the person Aymeric saw in her. Not the words of a Warrior. And yet, they were met with one of his damn smiles. Those smiles that made something long forgotten stir inside of her.

“Then we will conquer that fear together, Ciara.”

Long moments passed in silence as they each were lost in thoughts and memories. Their hands and eyes sometimes met when they smoothed over the earth or subtly rearranged their lilies.

Eventually, Aymeric got up, offering a hand to Ciara. “Let’s head back before the chirurgeons find out I left.”