#annasmusing

She'd attempted to convince him of it several more times after that, all straight-talking and determined. The Princess, as it turned out, was a hell lot more stubborn than anyone realised. A trait easily overlooked, hidden beneath her exterior of regal bearing and well-trained composure — and one that Nyx couldn't help but picked up on amongst a myriad of other quirks Lunafreya harbored throughout their journey: for instance, the way she only snored when she was really tired, soft little sounds the existence of which she denied upon waking; or the constellations of beauty marks dotting across her face and body, like markers of treasure begging to be explored, each one a fascinating yet painfully mundane reminder of how human she was in spite of the magic burning through her, giving life to so many yet leaving none for herself.

He knew that feeling well, Nyx thought, the kind that made you feel powerful and helpless all at once, coursing through your veins and channeling at the tips of your fingers before spreading all over, warm at first, then scorching, burning you inside out — a kind of blessing and torture he would not wish on anyone else. For many years of his adulthood he'd chosen it willingly, been in control of it, even, allowed to choose when and where and how to burn.

He could not imagine what it was like for Lunafreya, living with that fire all her life, knowing one day it would reduce her to nothing but ashes.

He was angry, yes — at fate, at the Astrals and the Old Kings and Regis, at Noctis, at Lunafreya.

But mostly, he was angry at himself, watching this woman whose palms fit warm and soft in his own walk closer to her death every day with no power to stop it. They both knew had the roles been reversed, he would have done the same thing without regret — and that was what made it harder, this shared understanding of duty and responsibility, the cold hard truth of one life worth sacrificing for billion others.

It didn't mean he had to be at peace with it. Every time Lunafreya tried to hide her cough, or the tremour in her hands that made it increasingly difficult to hold her trident, he wanted to rage and scream and summon all who had a say in deciding that she was forsaken, that her sacrifice in particular was necessary to save the world.

But he could do none of that, or at the very least, not in a way that actually worthed a damn.

So Nyx stayed quiet and held Lunafreya in his arms, hoping against hope, that whatever little time she had left in this mortal world, she would not feel alone.

・・・・・・・・・・・・

➢【 Artist: 2hika on X 】

For Insomnians, Luna’s powers might seem abstract or distant. These people had experienced the traumatic fall of their supposedly impenetrable city — losing homes, family members, and their entire way of life virtually overnight. To them, Luna was a political figure first and foremost. A Princess before an Oracle. Her marriage to their Prince represented their only hope for peace and a diplomatic solution to end the war.

When that fell through, naturally many Insomnians would feel betrayed not only by both Lucis and Niflheim, but also potentially by the entire "diplomacy" and "hope" that Luna represented. Regardless that it wasn't her fault, she would become associated with their losses. Some would inevitably view Luna as having failed in the one concrete duty she could have fulfilled to help them.

For those in occupied territories who had suffered under Imperial rule for decades, Luna’s healing might seem painfully inadequate against the daily oppression they faced. The Oracle traveled to heal victims of the Scourge, yes, but was otherwise powerless to stop the MTs patrolling their towns or the restrictions on their freedom. Her powers, while miraculous, did not address their most immediate concerns.

What makes this particularly tragic is the fact that Luna was a prisoner in her own homeland. The public image of a serene, dutiful, travelling-across-the-lands Oracle masked the reality of a woman whose every journey probably required Imperial approval and every healing was performed under the watchful eyes of her captors. This irony reached its peak when we also considered her brother's, Ravus', role. Was it also public knowledge that he was the High Commander of Niflheim? How would that knowledge contributed to the perception of Luna herself? Did it ever come to light that the beloved brother of the Oracle helped orchestrate the attack on Insomnia? Safe to assume the Chocobros certainly separate Ravus' actions from Luna, but would the public be so understanding?

On the other hand, in areas most affected by the Starscourge, Luna would be revered as we'd been shown. The dramatic, visible healing of those infected would create loyal followers who had personally witnessed or experienced her divine gifts. They would have seen her working while bearing obvious signs of exhaustion and the physical toll it took on her body. Although it is probably safe to assume that majority of people think of the Oracle favourably regardless of whether they'd seen her personally or not, as evident by the way NPCs spoke of her and the reactions towards her supposed "death" in Insomnia.

I do also think that some people would be perceptive enough to notice her "freedom" of travelling was merely an illusion crafted by the Empire. That it was all, for the Empire, a big political performance that served their propaganda, even if the Oracle's wishes to help were honest. That was perhaps the only comfort — that some would recognise her impossible situation: a divine healer held captive by an empire, forced to maintain appearances of autonomy while navigating a political labyrinth to fulfill her calling. Some would empathise, and be inspired by her determination to maintain dignity and purpose even under chains and shackles.

Luna herself was probably fully aware of these conflicting perceptions. She knew some blamed her for failures beyond her control. She knew others placed impossible expectations on her shoulders. Yet she continued her path without questions, healing those she could reach, awakening the Astrals despite the agony it caused her, and supporting Noctis from afar when she couldn’t stand beside him.

In this light, Luna’s unwavering dedication becomes even more remarkable. The Oracle continued her sacred duties not because everyone appreciated them, not because they were enough to solve all of Eos’ problems, but because they were the only things she could offer in a world where so much had been taken from her — including, perhaps, the public's full understanding of her sacrifice.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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Okay so, this strayed a bit from OP's post, but I started thinking about Luna's role in the movie and how the devs wanted to focus on her title as a Princess (granted they wanted to do so to keep the mysteries of the Oracle for the game) and I couldn't help but think of what Luna really, really had to go through all those 12 years. Everyone who hated her didn't understand her, but neither did everyone who revered her and put her on a pedestal. The movie, as much as I adored it to bits, could've benefited from exploring the devastating aftermath of the city's fall from the public's point of view. Or the Glaives (considering they were primarily refugees) and the Insomnian public's favour towards the Princess of former Tenebrae.

It takes exactly one introduction and two visits for the Glaives to stop calling her "Lady Lunafreya" and start using "Luna" like it's the most natural thing in the world. By the fifth visit, Pelna is asking her opinion on his dating life and Libertus is teaching her increasingly creative ways to curse in true Galahdian spirit. Crowe immediately claims her as a sister, bonding over shared experiences. The Glaives adopt her completely, the "Princess" nickname becoming more of an endearment (yes, even Luche).

Expanding on Crowe and Luna's sisterhood (because I'm a sueker for it): it only takes Crowe one look to see a kindred spirit — both taught to smile through the pain, both know what it's like to have your worth measured by how well you perform your duties. They trade stories about being underestimated and having to prove themselves twice as hard for half the credit. As the friendship grows, so does their language of looks across the room, the inside jokes about boys' unpredictable behaviour, and a secret handshake that makes Nyx terrified of what they're plotting. Crowe is the first person Luna tells when she's thinking about cutting her hair, and Luna is the first to know when Crowe's considering asking someone out.

Yamachang unofficially reserves their table every Friday night. It's a safe space: what happens at Yamachang's stays at Yamachang's. Photos are forbidden, gossips doesn't leave the building, and anyone who even thinks about selling stories to the press will find themselves on the wrong end of some very fierce Galahdan justice.

Luna usually starts the evening sitting beside Nyx, but would inevitably move closer as the night progresses and her inhibitions drop lower with every drink. The first time he actually pulled her into his lap, she sat perched on his knees like she's ready to bolt any second. By her third drink and second terrible joke from Pelna however, she was settled fully against his chest, legs curled up and her head tucked under his chin like she belonged there. He adjusted shamelessly to accommodate her.

Sometimes the music gets loud, so Luna has to lean close to Nyx's ear to be heard. Except she starts doing it even when it's quieter, just because she likes the way his breath catches when her lips brush his ear. He retaliates by dropping his voice to that low rumble that gives her butterflies. Sometimes he turns his head to catch her lips when she pulls back, a tiny stolen kiss.

Their first public kiss at Yamachang's was soft and spontaneous - one moment she's gesturing wildly, cheeks flushed from whiskey and passion for her stance on chocobo racing, the next Nyx has leaned over and kissed her after she finished her sentence. Luna tasted like her drink and laughter, and Nyx forgot they had an audience until Libertus started slow-clapping. She hid her face against his neck while he flipped his best friends off with a grin.

Nyx has a habit of rubbing circles on Luna's waist or hip with his thumb when she's in his lap. It's unconscious and soothing. Similarly, Luna sometimes plays with the cords and beads in his hair when she's relaxed. Everyone learn to recognise when she's had enough to drink by how tangled Nyx's braids get.

When the evening winds down, Luna gets sleepy and pliant, curling up further in his lap like a cat on a beanbag. He rubs her back soothingly while she dozes, content to let conversations flow around them into white noises.

Nyx always walks Luna back from Yamachang's, even though his flat was just right there. She leans against him as they walk, sometimes with her shoes dangling from her hand, his jacket draped over her shoulders. Of course, Nyx wouldn't let her walk barefooted — so most of the times she ends up on his back. These twenty or so minute walks become some of the most honest conversations thev have.

And bonus, for the second picture, because I can:

When they're finally alone and the world has stopped demanding pieces of them, Nyx kisses Luna like he's trying to commit her to his memory. His hand would find the back of her neck first, fingers slowly threading through her silken hair, thumb grazing the shell of her ear just ever so slightly before he draws her closer with his palm cradling her head. Meanwhile, his other hand would settle on her thigh as she instinctively lifts her leg to hook around his hip, pulling him until there's no space left between them but heat and want and the steady beat of their hearts.

Luna's hands would flatten against his chest, feeling the thrum of his pulse beneath her palms, warm and very much alive, her fingertips tracing the definition of muscle and scars she'd become familiar with through his shirt. Then, they'd slide up to cup his face, tilting his head exactly how she needs him. Their kisses are never rushed despite the urgency that builds — it's slow, deep, and thorough, like they have all the time in the world — time that they have been deprived of before dawn's return. To Luna, Nyx's kisses taste like coming home, like rebellion and safety all at the same time; and for him, nothing can quite replace the way she sighs his name against his lips, like a future full of dreams and promises he'd always deserved but denied himself.

・・・・・・・・・・・・

➢ 【 Artist: Chizu Chizu on Facebook 】