What The Heck Is She Writing?!

“Aw, come on. There was a fly distracting me that time.” Sylvain grunted as Felix stepped off him. His hair was even more tossed around as he sat up, fresh dirt on his cheek and tunic as he gave an annoyed frown. “I feel like you’re just purposely ‘killing’ me in these combat scenarios now.”

“Of course I am, you idiot. Every enemy out there is trying to ‘purposely’ kill you, so you better get your act together.” Felix made his way to the weapon’s rack, tossing aside his training sword amidst the pile of worn-down wood. Lately, he would wear down these training blades faster than he anticipated. Every time he’d do a sparring session with his red-headed companion, he’d go through at least three of them. Oh well… Another blade, for another round. “One more time.”

“Really?! We’ve already gone at least five rounds.”

“Are you saying that you have endurance in the bedroom but not in a fight? That speaks wonders about your endurance as a whole…”

Sylvain jerked his head away to hide the little bit of tarnished pride he had before he finally managed to get himself to his feet again. He could feel his knees shake from all the bruises he’s gotten on them. Felix always did think it was funny to go for the knees. “You really know how to wound me, Felix. My body, my ego. Are you angry at me or something? Is this about what happened last night? I mean, I already said I was sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change the fact that I found you broke into my room and fell on me with the scullery maid.”

“…Okay, I admit. That was a pretty bad situation. But it was dark, and your room looked just like mine from a darkened perspective-“

“I don’t need any more excuses, Sylvain.” Felix’s eyes furrowed at his red-headed combatant, hand gripping tight to the new training sword as he wandered his way towards one of the training dummies. “Chasing women and flirting your way into people’s hearts won’t help you survive out there on the battlefield. What do you plan on doing when you’re faced with a great enemy? Wink at them and ask them to dinner?”

Sylvain paused for a moment before a smirk crept onto his face. “Well, if it works, it works.”

“Sylvain.”

“What? Why are you even bringing all this up? Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous, Felix.”

The swordsman let out a scoff, blowing his bangs from his eyes as he wipes away the sweat from his neck. Or at least, Felix told himself that. He had to place his hand over the vein on his neck that throbbed in annoyance at the mention of Felix’s jealousy. Felix was not jealous of Sylvain. This dumb oaf was full of himself if he even thought that. And Felix didn’t even need to say a single word to express how ridiculous the idea was as he turned to Sylvain, brown eyes piercing daggers into the red-haired man.

The expression prompted Sylvain to sigh as he threw his arms out to the side in frustration. “What do you expect me to do? I’m not some war machine like you or Dmitri. Hell, if I had it my way, I’d say we talk to Edelgard, take her out to a nice dinner, and let her and Dmitri talk things out under a candlelit moonlight.”

“That sounds ridiculous and delusional.”

“Then what’s your big plan?” As Felix hacked away at the stuffed hay figure, Sylvain made his way over, leaning against the unclaimed training dummy nearby. His eyes lazily watched Felix, seeing that the aggression in his eyes were tainted by a hint of annoyance and a desperate need to distract himself from something. Sylvain arched an eyebrow in thought. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of one. Does that mean we’re just going to waltz up to the front gates of the Empire and kill every last one of them?”

“If that’s what we have to do, then yes.”

“What kind of plan is that? At least my idea has some diplomacy involved.”

With Felix’s next swing, the training sword had found itself lodged into the mannequin with his powerful Felix’s strike. Sylvain’s eyes widened, feeling a bit of cold sweat beat down as Felix let go of the sword and glared at Sylvain.

Sylvain’s expression relaxed slightly as he noticed Felix’s demeanor change. Yes, he was still as irritated as ever, but he stepped up to Sylvain to get in his face. Sylvain couldn’t help but chuckle. Even after five years, Felix was still shorter than he was. It made Felix’s attempt to size him up all the less intimidating. Good, for it was enough for Sylvain to stand his guard, looking down to Felix as he observed the very distinct scowl wrinkles under his eyes and on his brows. Sylvain tilted his head, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he leaned closer to listen to Felix’s snarls.

“Seduction is not diplomacy. And I know for a damn fact that it won’t win you any battles, Sylvain. So rely on your manipulation tactics all that you like. Just know that it will get you killed in the end.”

“You think that I can’t charm my way to a win?”

“I know you can’t.”

“Then how about we bet on it?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed at Sylvain’s words, just as the red-head predicted. As expected, Felix could never turn down a challenge -- especially not one against Sylvain. It was only confirmed officially when Felix crossed his arms and quizzically muttered under his breath. “What kind of bet?”

“It’s simple. You’re saying that I can’t take down someone with just my charm alone, right?”

“I’m saying it will get you killed.”

“And let’s say I don’t get killed… Then I win the battle, right?”

Felix didn’t outwardly admit it, but the look in his eye let Sylvain know that he had a point. “Get on with it.”

“I’m betting that I can win a fight with just my charm alone. I won’t make any swings or dirty blows. Instead, I’ll use all of my hard-learned skills as a romantic to take down my greatest opponent.”

“Greatest opponent, huh?” Felix unfolded his arms, resting them on his sides as he challenged Sylvain with his stature. “And who would that be? Ingrid? Mercedes? The head chef?”

“ You.”

For someone as guarded as Felix was, his eyes widened when he processed Sylvain’s words. A challenge of charm alone… To take down Sylvain’s greatest opponent, Felix himself. He must have been joking? What kind of idiot was he? A serious one, Felix realized. For when his eyes looked away to process the notion, they returned back to a sultry gaze -- one that was much closer than Felix had recalled just mere seconds ago. The swordsman grit his teeth, reaching out and planting his palm firmly against Sylvain’s face as he pushed him away. “Stop fooling around. Your jokes aren’t funny.”

“You think I’m joking?”

Felix wasn’t expected for Sylvain to take his wrist in response. Rather than a firm jerk that he was expected, the swordsman found himself guided back towards the cavalier. Felix stared in disbelief, an arm around his waist that kept him back in his place as Sylvain very gently caressed the swordsman’s calloused fingers. He didn’t know how to react to the red-haired man’s gesture like this. Instead, he was left in the hold with eyebrows furrowed and body temporarily stunned.

Sylvain grinned back at him. “If I can seduce you in two weeks time, then I win. If I can’t, then you win. How’s that sound?”

“You? Seduce me?” Felix gawked, jerking his hand back but still remaining in Sylvain’s embrace. “Have you grown bored of your usual prey?”

“I wouldn’t say that. But you’re sounding a lot like you’re backing away from a challenge, Felix. What? Think you’d lose?”

“N-Nonsense.” Felix’s attention broke from Sylvain’s eyes as he felt fingers brush just underneath the hem of his shirt. He couldn’t help but make a face at the sensation. Of course Sylvain’s fingers would be cold… Felix forced his attention back to Sylvain again, this time with an expression far more serious. “If I accept this challenge from you, you nor I would be losing anything from it. A bet has to have something at stake for it to be worth taking.”

“I guess you’re right…”

Sylvain’s gaze softened in thought before he loosened his hold around Felix. But just before he could step away, a hand shot out, latching onto Sylvain’s forearm and keeping him there. Felix’s gaze didn’t focus on the brown pair that looked at him in surprise. “If I win, then you’ll cease your fraternizing once and for all and focus on your training more. I’m not going to let you flake out and die on me out there, got it?”

A chuckle came from the red-head as he stepped back to Felix. “I hear you, I hear you. Have to keep my promise and everything, right?” Felix was quiet, only causing Sylvain to let out a small sigh as he looked at Felix with a gentle smile. The bet wasn’t even on, and already Sylvain wanted to lay on the charm. How could anyone resist a grumpy face like that? “If I win though… You have to do whatever I tell you to do. One thing. That’s all.”

“Knowing you, you’d weasel your way around it. Saying that you want me to do ‘anything you want.’” Felix gripped the front of Sylvain’s tunic, pulling him down to his height as he glared. “You won’t win against me, Sylvain.”

“You’re sounding awfully confident there, Felix.” Sylvain grinned at the swordsmen, who only returned an irritated expression back. “This isn’t a battle of swords anymore, so I hope you’re ready to be disarmed by me.”

A grunt was all that Felix could retort with as he tossed Sylvain’s tunic forward to get the other man from him. Felix was the one that sounded confident? Sylvain was over there talking big when the bet hadn’t even started yet. That kind of arrogance just made Felix want to win even more. The swordsman went back to the bench, picking up his coat before he made his way towards the exit of the training grounds. Felix wouldn’t drop his guard for a degenerate like Sylvain. He always won in their competitions before, he would continue to do so -- no matter how confident Sylvain was in himself.

“By the way, Felix?”

“What now, Sylvain?”

“...Nice ass.”

Xigbar -- The Freeshooter

He’s a cunning and kind of impulsive guy who often thinks he’s always one step ahead of the others when furthering his own evil agenda.

So people that call him out and are on par with his cunning nature often spark his attention.

Case in-point: Zexion. Possibly Vexen too, if Vexen weren’t so... Vexen.

The young guy always seems to know just what’s going on and often can see through the facades that people put on.

Highly observational or perhaps very good at detecting ‘illusions,’ considering his element.

Xigbar can’t help but entertain this fact, going up to Zexion and teasing him to perhaps break the Schemer’s own illusion of composure.

As if, though. It’s never to any avail, for Zexion is very good at being so ‘broody.’

But Xigbar just watches as Zexion leaves, a smirk on his face because one day, he’ll watch Zexion get flustered.

Xaldin has a bet that Xigbar will be able to do it. Axel bet on Zexion and his unbreakable demeanor.

Xaldin -- The Whirlwind Lancer

This guy isn’t really about love and romance, to be honest. He’s actually quite negative about his outlook on romance in general.

It never lasts, and so the sensations of ‘crushes’ and ‘attraction’ are mostly just on the impulsive side.

It’s probably why he simply views this ‘crush’ on Larxene of all people as a mere side-effect of having once been human.

She’s a strong and powerful woman, twisted and manic, impulsive and radical. It compliments what Xaldin is with his intrigue and wit.

He often grows curious of what the hell Larxene thinks sometimes, but he stays afar and only makes passive comments to avoid being on the other end of her lightning.

He enjoys the twisted side of her, yes. But he knows nothing would ever become of it. It’s just misery, and misery loves company.

Xigbar specifically notices Xaldin’s fascination with Larxene, and often teases him about it in that snide way he usually has.

But Xaldin’s easy to brush it off from. It’s just an interest in someone of opposite traits than himself, that’s all.

But still... Even if it never would work, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was such a thing as a lasting love. If ever such a thing were possible.

Vexen -- The Chilly Academic

He’s married to his work mostly, preferring the comfort of his laboratory than the comfort of someone’s arms.

Why in the World of Nothingness would he ever want that?

Well, he didn’t figure that out until some pink-haired dunce came up and greeted Vexen with a kiss on both sides of his cheeks. The deuces?!

When he first met Marluxia, he was sort of disgruntled at the younger man. This charismatic yet mysterious air to him made Vexen always befuddled when dealing with such a figure.

And yet, he probably found himself always curious and over-analyzing the situation in regard to Marluxia. Why was he so fascinated?

Perhaps it was similar to Xaldin’s analysis on the Larxene situation: opposites are sometimes more attractive than similar traits. Or perhaps it was some psychological thing he couldn’t really describe.

If only Marluxia wasn’t a little bastard though. He gets very irritated when thinking about how disrespectful Marluxia is most of the times.

And yet, Luxord cackles because he noticed just how whipped Vexen is when Marluxia comes calling for... Whatever Marluxia usually does.

The image burned itself in his mind, but Noctis had to push it aside. There was only so long he could remain in the keep’s barracks for safety. Eventually, he would have to run. He would have to fight off the monsters, without the aid of his friends and allies. Noctis let out a breath, clutching the sword left behind by the fallen commander until his knuckles turned white through the blood on his skin.

At least Ravus would be there in spirit, helping Noctis fight his way free.

The prince struggled his way through the floors of the keep, pushing his way towards the elevator to take him up to the elevated floors above. There must be some sort of command center around here. Maybe even a switch that would allow him to use his powers again. Anything would be better than sitting here and joining Ravus in the afterlife.

Even if that did sound like a good idea.

Noctis rested against the elevator’s walls, closing his eyes for only a mere moment before the doors parted. Not even a chance to catch his breath. He pushed himself from his place and advanced, pacing himself slowly and wearily. No sign of any immediate dangers. And unlike the other floors, the area seemed undisturbed. A red trail lead from the elevator towards a large cage-like form before him. It felt odd walking on top of something besides metal as Noctis followed along the path. It felt almost welcoming as Noctis pushed aside the two massive doors and saw before him a ballroom caged off from the metalworks of the keep.

Until his gaze fell upon the white-clad figure sitting atop the throne.

“Ravus…?” Noctis’s eyes widened, body carrying him halfway there before halting abruptly. No. That can’t be him. He was dead. Noctis couldn’t forget such a sight. But he was there, eyes closed as if in a slumber.

He looked so peaceful, in sleep as he did in death.

It stung to recall just how serene of an expression Ravus had, then and now. But whatever this was, it was just an illusion. Noctis knew this as he advanced closer to the sleeping commander. It was as if nothing happened to him, a perfect recollection of Ravus that Noctis had remembered of him in the commander’s final moments. Only there was no blood. No injuries. There was only solace in the commander’s appearance as Noctis listened to the soft breathing that eased the tension in Noctis’s body.

If he closed his eyes too, then it would be as if nothing happened. Just the sound of rest between two souls. No images of the metal labyrinth. Only a darkness that would bring comfort and make him forget it all. It was a tempting thought.

At last, you have arrived, Noctis.

Noctis’s eyes shot open in amidst his daze. His hands shook as he readied himself with his sword. No sight of anyone else – nothing to be alarmed of. That is, until Noctis looked back to the throne, noticing the empty place once again. The anxiety his felt in his predicament worn him out. His mind was playing tricks on him, and the lack of true sleep only contributed more to it. Seeing things, hearing things, feeling things he shouldn’t be able to sense. It was an awful feeling…

You need your rest, Noctis. Recover yourself.

“Yeah… I probably should.” His eyes fixed themselves onto the throne. Feet dragged themselves forward, fingers unable to secure his sword anymore until it clattered to the ground. Noctis brushed his fingers over the throne’s velvet cushion. The world softened from a mere stroke of comfort that such a resting place could offer. Already Noctis’s vision blurred, ready to submit to slumber before Noctis could even sit.

Yet it still nagged in Noctis’s mind that it still wasn’t time for him to rest. Gladiolus and Ignis were probably still searching for him, and Prompto was somewhere within the keep too. But no matter how much he searched, there was no sign of reuniting with them. And with his current condition, Noctis could barely take a few more steps without feeling like he would collapse. He nearly did as he backed away from the throne with hesitation.

“I have to find the others first…”

After you rest. You have fought so hard. Regain your strength, Noctis. I will watch over you.

Noctis didn’t recall the sensation of arms wrapping themselves around his waist, beckoning him upright and guiding him towards the throne. And yet, he allowed his body to be led. He leaned against the arm of the throne as weary eyes watched the doors as they closed and sealed themselves from intruders once more. Now he was able to rest in the protection of the untainted ballroom. That’s good… Perhaps now a moment of reprieve was attainable.

The prince abided and lowered himself into his seat. Splendor overwhelmed him, washing away whatever strain and anxiety he had before and replaced it with serenity. He was finally able to have a moment to himself as his body slumped back further. Noctis’s eyes fluttered in and out of focus as he felt something stroke his hair. Feather-like and comforting as they brushed Noctis’s hair from his eyes like a small breeze. He couldn’t help but feel as if he was being embraced with warmth, at last able to close his eyes as the words whispered in his mind again with a heat burning against his neck.

I will watch over you.

“Yeah… I’ll see you in my dreams, Ravus.”

The commander smiled against Noctis’s neck and held him tighter. “Sleep well, my king.”

--

“Come on! We mustn’t lose him this time!”

“Wait up, Iggy. We can’t afford to get split up again.”

Gladiolus and Prompto pursued Ignis as the trio ran through the corridors. Despite his disability, Ignis was eager to go, pushing through the corridors with no fear or weariness. They too had all been trapped in the labyrinth, but they were able to reunite once again. Prompto had been saved by Gladiolus and Ignis, but their party was still short their most valuable member. The pursuit after the prince only proved to be more tedious in a maze of steel and iron. But Ignis always did have a keen sense in finding Noctis. And despite his blindness, it took no more than a clang of metal to alert Ignis and quickly dash towards the noise. Foolish perhaps, but if Ignis sensed it was the prince, he may be right.

They had nothing to lose. Except for their friend, that is.

The elevator rose up, and it didn’t take another beat before the group pushed their way out and ran up to the large metal doors that blocked their path. Odd that there would be such an ornate door in such a hellish place. If this is where their adventure lead, then they would see to just what laid beyond.

“Prompto, open the door!”

“G-Got it!”

The blond stammered but held the code on his wrist up. Despite his insecurity over noting it to Ignis and Gladiolus, there was no time for hesitation. Noctis was more important – the glue that held their group together. Just because he was ‘the enemy,’ Prompto wouldn’t allow himself to forsake Noctis just because he refused to open the paths for the others. So, he quickly scanned the code and unsealed the door’s lock. Attempted to before he ultimately resorted to summoning his pistol and blasting the security panel.

Gladiolus moved into action by pushing the massive doors aside. He was the first to rush into the room, being the shield for Ignis and Prompto, but being the first to get to Noctis’s side as his bodyguard. He already felt as if he failed for his lack of protection. He got separated from the prince – an unforgivable act even if the two argued previously. He regretted everything he said to Noctis. He regretted blaming Noctis for Ignis’s pain, for telling him his mourning was for nothing. Because knowing that Noctis was alone in this hell, fearing the death of the prince… Gladiolus began to see just where Noctis’s grief stemmed from. He needed to see Noctis safe – to apologize. To protect his king before the daemons that swarmed the keep.

And to protect Noctis from the daemon that sat upon the throne.

Darkness dripped from the figure in the throne, pooling around and running along the floor towards the trio that entered. The snow-white attire and features of what was once a man was stained and tattered. His flesh was cracked with the same dark liquid spilling from his face and eyes, falling more as it slowly turned towards the trio and rasped.

“Noct!”

Triggered by the name, the daemon held the prince tighter and let out an ear-shattered shriek. The prince remained unphased by such noise, captured in a trance of slumber as the demon held the sleeping prince in his lap. The monster hissed, rising with the prince in its arms with its voice twisted and shrill.

“What the hell is that…?!” Gladiolus summoned his sword, shielding Ignis and Prompto in a defensive stance as the daemon towered before them. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human anymore. “Whatever it is, it needs to die…!”

“Gladio, wait!” Prompto gripped Gladiolus’s arm, his eyes widened in shock as he pointed. “Look.”

The bodyguard’s eyes narrowed as the demon lowered the prince into the throne. What was this? Did it just caress Noctis’s face? Compassionate in its actions, it was shocking to see. The daemon turned itself back to the others, a menacing snarl coming from it as it reached to its side. It drew a monstrous black weapon from its side, reminiscent of a blade that lashed out its corruption across the red and gold ballroom. Gladiolus readied his shield the moment the daemon dashed forward. It was barely a blink of an eye before the daemon was in Gladiolus’s face, dripping across Gladiolus’s shield and face before the bodyguard threw the daemon back.

‘Watch… Over… Him…

He is mine…!’

Gladiolus roared to the gunner. “Prompto! Get Iggy out of here!”

Prompto followed his commands, guiding out Ignis just as the daemon recovered and lashed at Gladiolus again. Slow his swings were, but the brutality of each strike nearly knocked Gladiolus around. Gladiolus grunted at the first blade’s strike, but then blocked at the second, sliding back against the wall before recuperating to block the reemergence of the monster with its blade. Damn… This thing was strong. Whatever they had faced before was child’s play compared to this daemon. But for some reason, it didn’t attack Noctis. Was it under Ardyn’s control? Why keep Noctis alive like that?

‘No other… Noctis…!’

Gladiolus surveyed the monster as best as he could before throwing it back again, stumbling away to regain his breath. There must be a weakness. Was it that pulsing thing on its chest? Its legs? Anything would work, because there was only so much evading Gladiolus could do against a fast and powerful daemon. His eyes continued to search, but he did notice something. Amongst the dripping black liquid was a familiar emblem across the remnants of the monster’s attire. Gold, silver, and violet. Gladiolus’s eyes widened at the revelation.

The Tenebraen coat of arms.

It made more sense now as Gladiolus looked again. The white uniform was barely recognizable anymore. Sword was melted into that twisted black form. There was hardly a face through the cracks and deformities on the monster’s face, but was it…?

The monster didn’t let Gladiolus have a moment more of rest before it dashed forward again. And as it swung its blade up, Gladiolus readied himself to block again before he roared back. “Ravus!”

Too close for comfort, the blade had stopped mere inches from Gladiolus’s face. A silence settled, too quiet for the conflict that had stirred just seconds prior. The daemon let out a rasp of a breath, stepping closer and pressing its corrupt blade against the shield’s neck. A thin train of blood crept down Gladiolus’s flesh. Crimson. A painful color that the daemon seemed to recall as it hissed by Gladiolus’s face.

Gladiolus didn’t get to counter the sharp strike to his chest that knocked him far. His sword clamored to the ground as he struck the metal caging of the ballroom’s walls. He took a knee to recollect his breath, blood being vomited to the ground as he wheezed. A powerful strike, but not enough to keep Gladiolus down for long. The king’s shield rose again, summoning his weapon back to hand as he readied for the defensive.

The daemon, however, had lost its interest. It began to stagger back towards the throne, its blade falling to the ground as the black ooze began to drip from its form. A vile path was left – skin shed until eventually it revealed its true form. A stained and torn coat that wouldn’t be considered white anymore. Skin pale as snow itself and silver hair with a lost sheen. And with a sorrowful expression, dark and corruption still in its eyes, it watched the sleeping form before falling to its knees before the king.

“Ravus…”

Gladiolus watched the monster transform, slowly following the trail towards the man’s side. His greatsword shattered from reality, a rain glimmering around Gladiolus. It was only when Ravus turned towards Gladiolus that the shield recognized the daemonic look in his eyes. White still black and his gaze shifting between a glowing violet to their once normal blue color. Ravus was no longer the man he once was. It was a harrowing realization.

“I had only wished to fulfill her wish.” The commander’s hands shook as he reached up, taking the king’s hand into his black claw-like own. “She wished for his safety and well-being, and thus, I swore to see to it. I cannot break her promise. I cannot lose him.”

“Neither can we, Ravus.” Gladiolus reached out and rested his hand atop Ravus’s shoulder. “But Noct’s got a job to do – one that’ll save everyone. Even if it’s a hard one.”

“No!” Ravus lashed out at Gladiolus, gripping his arm and causing the black corruption to grapple the shield’s arm. It threatened to go further and injure him even more, were it not for Ravus’s restraint. “It was this task – this Astral forsaken prophecy – that got my sister killed. And it will result in more suffering. The one thing she wishes to protect in this world – that I wish to protect… That is something I refuse to let be abused any longer!”

Gladiolus grit his teeth, reaching up and trying to pry some room between Ravus’s hostile grasp. “I know, Ravus. We don’t want to let Noct get hurt any more either. But that’s why he can’t stay here with you. You won’t hurt him, but think about him, dammit!”

“It is only about him!” Ravus threw Gladiolus down onto the ground with enough force to shatter the tiles beneath. The darkness only began to grow over Ravus’s arm and face again, twisting into a more daemonic horned form as he snarled. He squeezed tighter and tighter, an attempt to drown out the grunts of pain coming from the other man. “I will be his guardian and protector. I will not let that monster get his hands on him, nor will I let you take him from me-!”

“Ravus.”

Those weren’t the words of the bodyguard pleading with him as he expected. Ravus’s eyes widened as he slowly turned towards the soft voice, meeting the blue eyes of the king that watched. Not with fear, not with anger… With pity it was. The fact that he was awake was enough for Ravus to retract his arm. He staggered forward towards the king, kneeling before him as his black claw reached up towards the king’s face.

“You… Need your rest, Noctis.”

“I know… But so do you, Ravus.” Noctis allowed Ravus’s hand to caress his cheek, his own hand reaching up and resting on top of it. He didn’t allow himself to be frightened of the daemon before him, even if he wanted to be. Ravus didn’t need to be feared. “You’re fighting hard, aren’t you? With the daemons inside of you, with the grief that you’re feeling… Does it hurt to fight so hard…?”

The daemon shook its head. “My pain has no significance. All that matters are your desires, my king.”

“That’s not true, Ravus. You matter too.” Noctis took Ravus’s claw away, holding onto his hands as he looked at the heterochromatic gaze before him. “That’s why I want you to rest.”

“But I swore to protect you. It was my vow to her and my vow to you.”

“I know… But you can’t protect me when you’re so weary.” Noctis gave a soft smile, reaching up and brushing aside Ravus’s hair. "You have fought so hard. You deserve the chance to finally close your eyes.”

The daemon rasped, hanging its gaze as it gripped tighter onto Noctis’s hands. The king winced as he felt blood being drawn. But Noctis guided Ravus’s head down onto his lap, gingerly running his fingers over the commander’s hair as the darkness began to dissipate. There was the commander that Noctis recognized, staring onward with a worn expression as he gripped tighter to Noctis’s hand.

“Have I truly fought hard as you say, Noctis?”

“Yeah. You have.”

“…Will she forgive me for not protecting you?”

“I know she will, Ravus. You’ve already protected me this far, and I know you’ll keep on protecting me later.” Noctis slowly raised his hand from Ravus’s hair. “Go ahead and rest, okay? I will watch over you.”

Ravus gave a slow nod, closing his eyes slowly as black tears fell from his eyes. “Alright… I will see you in my dreams.”

Noctis flexed his hand, manifesting a dagger into it as he whispered. “Sleep well, Ravus…”

The king had to close his own eyes as he brought the blade across the commander’s throat, allowing the darkness to ooze from the injury and spill at the foot of the throne. It was a quiet end, a silence settling within the room as if the air had vanished from it. Noctis felt the blade disappear from his hand like feathers brushing across his skin into the atmosphere. And yet, he sat there, shaking fingers curled into the white locks. His breath was raspy, his eyes finally opening as he looked up towards the ballroom’s caged ceiling as the crystals floated to the sky.

“Noct…?”

“I’m okay… He doesn’t have to fight anymore.” Noctis turned his sorrowful eyes towards Gladiolus. “He can finally rest.”

Gladiolus gave a small nod, his eyes only able to look at the commander’s body for a moment before having to turn away. It was an act of mercy that ended the tragic man’s suffering, but it still didn’t feel any better. He couldn’t imagine how Noctis really felt. He moved and guided Noctis up to his feet, catching Ravus in his other arm and setting the commander atop of the throne. Shielding Noctis with his arms, he looked back one last time at the commander.

Ravus’s eyes snapped over to the door as it opened. About damn time someone emerged. How dare they leave him waiting for so long! Heterochromatic eyes narrowed for a moment as you emerged, clipboard of information tucked underneath your arm as you looked at Ravus with a curious expression. Huh? You couldn’t help but wonder why he looked so irritated. Nevertheless, you smiled and held the door open for him.

“Right on time, Mr. Fleuret! You really are as punctual as they say.”

Ravus was hardly amused as he rose from his face, fixing his coat as he glared back at the clock again. “And yet, you are not. When you claim that our intended appointment was at noon, then I expected you to hold true to your anticipated time.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “It is noon though.”

“Not according to this clock.”

You felt your eyes narrow at him before you flicked your wrist and flashed your phone at him. “Noon on here, according to a universal clock. And now noon o’one, since you keep wasting our meeting time arguing this.”

Ravus scowled at the statement, looking at your phone in shock before looking at the clock once more. He had to reach into his pocket to look at his pocket watch.

Damn. One past noon.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but you merely gestured to the inside of your office with a plastered smile. “Now then, shall we begin our meeting, Mr. Fleuret?” He tried not to let the eye twitch show as he obediently nodded his head and walked into the office past you, just as you tried to hide the satisfied smile on your face as you followed him.

It was always a pleasure making even the most powerful of people feel powerless.

You tapped your way to your desk, gesturing to the chairs before it for the deputy-commander to sit. Your made sure to have the most uncomfortable chairs the empire could offer for the people who were brought into your office – almost a sick and twisted way of testing the people who were unfortunate enough to come into your office. You took your place within the comfortable leather, scooting forward as you eyed Ravus in his place on the edge of the plastic seat. He seemed like a behemoth compared to how short the chair was, but he feigned comfort by crossing his legs over one another as he surveyed the office.

Poor guy.

You couldn’t wait to tear him apart.

It was perhaps the strangest way to compare it to, but you were, in a way, like the recruiter within the Imperial army. That was the only way you could describe it without making yourself sound like some sort of therapist who probed into the minds and lives of the soldiers around you – seeing if they were fit to serve the Empire. You obviously weren’t that, because you never babied those in the army. You didn’t need to. They were grown ass men and women who knew what to do, how to follow orders, how to obey the will of the emperor. But even if they knew how to keep their loyalty to the empire, it was your job to make sure that – loyal or no – a soldier wasn’t considered a liability to the emperor and his ambitions. And if they were… Then, well, you’d be among the first to tell Emperor Iedolas and Chancellor Izunia that something needed to be done.

And so, the Deputy-Commander of the Niflheim Imperial army was there in your office, ready for you to report your interview with him to the emperor and chancellor to see if his nomination was an acceptable one – especially since now General Glauca was killed in action. The role of high commander should be passed onto Ravus, but not without some proper checks behind the character of the Tenebraen prince. You didn’t really care if hierarchy claimed that he was next for the job. If Emperor Iedolas’s ambitions were at risk thanks to Ravus, then you wouldn’t hesitate to mark him as a threat to the empire and send him to prison.

For the Empire, all that jazz.

If anything, the Empire just so happened to be the place you worked for, happily acting as an advisor to the Emperor and Chancellor without much objection to it. But that’s because nobody ever dared to really challenge the empire to begin with – dared to challenge you. No person in power would make it to that position without proving it to you. It didn’t really matter whom you worked for, because no matter where you were you were good at your job. Ruthless at it, because if a liability came into power, then it would be you to blame. It was a game played to the extreme with only the most powerful of pieces recruited. You would only accept the best in your conquest for flawlessness. It was the ultimate challenge you attempted to fulfill.

And so, you weeded out the weak by letting the poor soul before you know just how powerful you were, making him sit there in silence as you surveyed your paperwork. You already read it all over, but just allowing Ravus to sit there and wait even more was more satisfying than the questions you had prepared for him. And you made sure to take note of everything as he waited. The way he tapped his fingers on his knee, the press of his lips as his eyebrows furrowed, and – your favorite – the way he glared at you as if trying to anticipate your next move. It was a game of chess, and he was waiting for your first move.

“So, Ravus. How is your arm healing?”

You could see him physically restrain himself from clenching his metal fist in reaction to your question before he cleared his throat and spoke. “It will heal in given time.”

“And if there’s no time to give?” He raises his gaze towards you. “We have a busy agenda within the Empire, Commander. We cannot afford to waste any time, so not even the death of Glauca will hinder the Emperor as we progress towards the figure. Your recovery is important, but not important enough for us to hold back for your sake.”

“I understand, and I had no intention of letting my injury become problematic for the Empire’s rise to glory.”

“And yet you let your pride become problematic instead.” A nerve was struck as you watched his upper lip twitch in irritation. You smiled and cocked your head. “My job is to know the gossip. And rumors claimed that your annoyance with the Lucians is what caused the ring to be lost in the first place. Glauca could have ended your life then and there, but even he did little to abide by his orders to finish off the nuances of the empire. Perhaps he too deserved a punishment as worse as yours.”

“And death was not punishment enough?”

“No. Death was the easy way out.” The tone in your voice was perhaps more ruthless than even you anticipated. But you rose from your place, beginning to prowl around the desk in another one of your tests. It often made even the most stoic of people nervous when they couldn’t see the ‘enemy’ in their line of sight. But it was impressive how Ravus didn’t even move to let his eyes follow you. You smiled and tapped your fingers along your bookcase. “Glauca lost his life because he let his attachments become his downfall. The attachment to his second life, the attachment to the hatred for the Lucians – how will we know that you won’t end up like Glauca, Mr. Fleuret?”

Ravus was silent, making you watch him in a bit of annoyance that he didn’t have an answer fast enough for you. Looks like you shut him up for good. Not even enough fight in him, you supposed.

That is, until he replied. “Perhaps that is a gamble that you will have to make.”

…Well now. For once, that caught you by surprise. You turned around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the wall. You gestured for him to continue, which he didn’t need to see directly to know you were waiting for an explanation – no, an argument for you.

“Wars are not won with strategy alone. Many of the greatest strategist are gamblers by nature. Much like you are, I can imagine.”

“Oh?” Your eyes narrow at him. “I’m pretty sure this is about me analyzing you and your behavior, Ravus.”

“And my behavior is that of a tactician as well. One who can anticipate the enemy’s moves and be a step ahead of them throughout the process. Know thy enemy – just as you have done your research on me. Am I not wrong?” He had the nerve to turn his head, violet piercing at you with the sharpness of a blade. “And you should know then that you cannot break an already broken man, so try as you like during this interview to shatter me.”

An intimidation tactic to counter your own intimidation tactic? And it almost worked as you seemed almost taken aback by the intense look in his eye. Almost. Fighting brute strength with brute strength was impressive, but it would only get him so far. But you had to admit, it was impressive. Not even Glauca could combat you with a blatant challenge like this. You chuckled and moved back towards your desk, flopping down in your seat before lifting your paperwork again.

“It’s no fun to break a person who can’t be broken. You’re the first interview I’ve had that was dumb enough to think you can strong arm me to backing off.”

“And yet, you refrain from your verbal assault.”

There was a tension in the air that would have smothered the weak as a silence settled between the two of you. Your eyes narrowed at him as you leaned forward with your chin on top of your laced fingers. Ravus leaned back in his seat, hand resting on top of his knee as he crossed his legs properly.

“Testing me is like playing with a Sabertusk, Mr. Fleuret. Are you really going to test your luck with the person who will make or break your future?”

“That depends. Will you continue to circle around me to shatter my composure? Will you continue to trick me with altered clocks and feigning under-preparedness? Will you continue to intimidate me with the ideas that you will be the one to determine how fit I am to become High Commander?” Ravus leaned forward, heterochromatic eyes challenging you as he so easily unveiled the strategies and plans you had for the upcoming interview. Damn… He was more prepared than you thought. “I am willing to press my luck, just as you are willing to press yours to see if I will falter.”

“Who said I was relying on luck?”

“If not luck, then hope. Hope that you were not wrong in assuming I am unfit to become the High Commander.”

…Oh, he was good. You underestimated him, not realizing just how imposing he was and how different he was compared to the others. He was not stupid, which only made you smile and laugh as you leaned back in your seat. It had been a long time since you’ve had someone this ballsy in the hotseat. “Well then… If anything, I hope to see that your supposed luck is not confused with foolishness.”

“Foolishness or a will to fight you?”

“And what is giving you the will to keep fighting me, Mr. Fleuret?” You watch him like a predator, waiting for him to make a mistake to finish the job for the pride of Niflheim. “Most would accept their fate as a broken, injured, prisoner of war – marketed as a pet of the empire and a trophy of Glauca’s conquest of the shattered kingdom of Tenebrae. You, the exiled prince of Tenebrae, Ravus Nox Fleuret, are nothing more than a prize for Niflheim to brag about. Most in your position would lack the fight to keep moving forward – to dare take up the mantle of the enemy that ruined your life. And yet, here you are.” You sat upright in your seat, arms crossing on your desk as you eyed the commander again. “For a man as ‘broken’ as you claim, it’s impressive that you’re still able to stand.”

“Is there a question in amidst your observations, or are you merely griping for a recollection of my tragedies?”

You scoffed, shuffling the paperwork on your desk as a smirk returned to your face. “I guess my only question right now is ‘Why?’ Why go through all the trouble of pleasing an empire that only brought you suffering and torment? Why bother to become the next high commander when you know the odds are stacked against you?”

“I am certain that you asked approximately two questions.”

“And I am certain that you’re being a smartass, Mr. Fleuret.” You noticed the fainted curl tugging up at the corner of his mouth. “Explain to me why you would ever manage to impress me as the new High Commander.”

Ravus shifted in his place, and you tried your damnedest not to laugh as the chair squeaked and shattered the silence. You could tell Ravus was more annoyed at the inconvenient noise than the discomfort. “My intentions of why are irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. My life, as you have referenced, is ruined. In a world when I have nothing left, there is only so much one can do. Except of course, make a gamble.” Ravus flicked his wrist and gestured to you. “High risk and high reward, if you will. For a man with nothing to lose is perhaps the most feared, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No. A man with nothing to lose still has nothing. He shouldn’t be gambling to begin with. He only becomes a risk.”

“What’s life without a bit of risk? A man with nothing only means he has everything to gain. After all-”

“’The greatest tacticians are gamblers by nature?’”

“It is how Chancellor Izunia became one of the most powerful men in the empire. And, perhaps, it is how you were able to gain your position of power as well.” You pressed your lips in a thin line as you listened to his defense. “There is only so much intimidation you can do. Only so many mind games you can play before someone knows your exact strategy. What will happen when all your meticulous calculations fail?”

“I never fail.”

“Is that so?” Ravus cocked an eyebrow, leaning back again as he gestured to you. “So, I assume that you intended to beat me then, and prove to the Chancellor and Emperor that I am just as unfit as you assumed.” His eyes watched you with a dangerous look, like a knife to your throat. “Well? What is your verdict?”

“Take a lucky guess, Mr. Gambler. What is my final verdict?” You smiled back with an equally dangerous look. The other man was cunning, you had to admit. It was almost exciting to have this kind of clever conversation with someone. The only other person daring enough to have these types of talks was the chancellor, but his games only ended what you bluffed on: that you never failed. Contrary in the battle of wits, only the chancellor could outmatch you. It infuriated you, and yet having Ravus here, you couldn’t help but realize something…

“That pure luck is your only option now in winning against me.”

Yes… You realized that there was another man who could outmatch you.

Your eyes narrowed into a glare, but it soon relaxed as a soft chuckle turned into laughter. You shook your head, tapping your fingers on your desk as you looked at the paperwork again. You rose from your place, gesturing to the silver-haired man to rise with you as you escorted him towards the door. You looked at him, tilting your head as he stood before you at the doorframe. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of me in the future. After all, if I find out that you are more of a threat than an asset, then I’ll be the first one to report you to the Emperor.”

“I would not expect anything less, should that be your ultimate plan.”

“Who knows? Perhaps I’ll get lucky that it won’t come to that.” You smirk at the other man, extending out your hand to him. “Until then, I hope you won’t disappoint me, High Commander Fleuret.”

Ravus scoffed, returning the expression as he reached out and took your hand to shake it. “I do not intend to.”

And with a bow of his head, he turned on his heel and departed. You watched him carefully with your arms crossed over your chest and your shoulder leaning against the doorway. You clicked your tongue, index through pinky finger drumming against your bicep before you turned towards your secretary at their desk. “Contact Chancellor Izunia for me, please.”

The secretary nodded, watching Ravus depart before looking back at you. “And what will you have me say?”

“That I’m willing to make a gamble on our new High Commander.”

“Isn’t that a little risky to say?”