#ardymesh

“You should really sweep this drafty old hole out a little,”Ardyn suggested, trailing a finger along the earthen walls. “I expect you mayhave a great deal of new guests soon. Wouldn’t want to seem inhospitable now,would you?”

The Crag was a complex prison, cradling the souls of allthose deemed unworthy by the Blademaster to serve the Lucian kings as Shield.As if he had any right to pass judgment on those meant to inherit a positionGilgamesh had never rightly deserved in the first place.

It could have been his. It could have been both of theirs.If only he’d stood with him. If only he’d spoken for him when all he waspromised was ripped from his grasp. He would have made him Shield and more byevery right if he hadn’t turned his back on him to be blinded by his falselight.

Ardyn wasn’t certain what would become of the TemperingGrounds once the darkness finished devouring the days. Rare were the times thathe was permitted entry, and never long enough to study the ancient chasm orlisten to the collection of spiteful souls within. If Gilgamesh was feelinggenerous – nostalgic, even, though neither of them felt any particular inclinationto reminiscence – he would let Ardyn come all the way to the toes of his dustyseat before he drew his blade against him.

It was a great source of entertainment. A wonderful comedyof enacting vengeance, pretending like he was the one entitled to it. The actgot more elaborate every time, adding new layers of depth to the characterGilgamesh liked to play. The devoted Shield, the first of his role, pledged tothe Founder King, the First King, the One King, beloved by the gods and chosenfor his seat by divine providence, entitled by blood and succession, pretendinglike Ardyn had never existed to claim that birthright himself.

Quite the comedy.

Today’s act was a tragedy. It was comprised of a great dealof silence, grieving for the final rays of daylight sinking down the throat ofthe Crag.

Quite a boring show.

“I’m surprised at you, old friend,” Ardyn mused, pacing thebridge of swords. “No vows of undying retribution? No promises of eternaldamnation? Come now, is the great and feared Blademaster really going out with sucha pitiful whimper?”

Ardyn absolutely abhorred silence. Always had. He rememberedshouting just to hear the echoes in the towering chambers of the old palace topretend like there were a thousand people between the walls. He remembered aboy – used to be a brother to someone – that always complained of the noise.Always demanded “inside voices, please,” in words that were so polite that theywere just downright painful to listen to.

Traveling the kingdom had been a relief because he wasoutside. No need for “inside voices” out in a world without walls to echo backagainst. Traveling and whistling and chattering on chocobo-back had been a smugdelight, especially since he was allowed to steal the spoiled brat’s favoritesword-at-arms to corrupt from his quietude as they went.

All that hard work, gone to naught now.

Gilgamesh had always been stubborn. Getting him to break hisstoic reserve had taken every trick and jape and far-fetched tale he’d everpicked up from the theaters and the circuses and the stages he’d snuck off toin his youth. He’d considered it a tremendous accomplishment after the firstmonth on the road had rewarded him with an undignified snort of ale up thegreat Blademaster’s nose.

That was long before he’d ever been written into that myththough.

“Have you come to laud your victory?”

Ah! A script, at last! Finally, thrown a line.

“I’d hardly call this a victory so much as an inevitability.This world was always destined to darkness.”

“You truly believe that…”

Now he did. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, afoolish young man used to think otherwise. He felt so sure that the kingdomdeserved light and it was his honor to preserve it. He would sacrifice anythingfor it. That was what a true king did for his kingdom. He put the safety of hispeople before himself, and in accomplishing that, attained true respect fromboth his subjects and himself. A foolish young man believed that harmony wasachievable. That he would be humbled if it was awarded to him.

Nothing could turn a king into a fool quite like afire-breathing dragon.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Ardyn stated, coming tostand at the edge of the bridge to watch what the Astrals had wrought on theirbeloved world.

Gilgamesh sat perched at his feet, arm on his knee, one footweighing perilously over the abyss. Ardyn briefly considered kicking him offthe edge. Just to see what would happen. Could be funny. Maybe it’d even get alaugh out of the old relic if he was lucky. It would certainly make the lastsunset on Eos more eventful.

It was but a means to an end. He wasn’t particularly excitedfor the event, but after all this time, he felt an odd sort of obligation toobserve the last day. It was something to do, anyway. He had a great deal ofwaiting ahead of him. Might as well at least try to entertain himself. But Gilgamesh wasn’t being much fun inthat regard.

“This must be quite a momentous occasion for you,” Ardyntaunted to fill the silence. “It’s not every millennia that you get to stickaround for the end of the world. Did you honestly think that king of yours had anyidea what he was up against?”

He couldn’t even rile him to anger, it would seem. He wasused to that as well, but the Blademaster was known for having quite a tempersince he’d been condemned to immortality. There were only so many imbecilespretending at honor that a person could take before men grew too insufferableto stand, he supposed. He’d been on the brunt end of that ire on many of hisvisits. He was rather hoping for an epic tantrum on this most auspicious ofoccasions.

The Crag slowly started to darken, the sun a mere bead inthe distance, squashed between two walls of stone, hooked beneath the archesthat closed like fingers down the length of the chasm. Gone would be theglittering reflection of sunlight on slicked stone, crystalline in the dawn.Quiet would be the voices of a hundred undead souls as the light they reachedfor was snuffed out before their eternal deliverance. Resigned was theBlademaster to the rising shadow racing through his prison.

“It would seem you were right,” Gilgamesh said with the lastbeam of sunlight. “This world could not escape its destiny. But neither canyou, Accursed. The Chosen King will return with Shield in hand as destiny hasdemanded of him.”

“Oh, rest assured. I’m counting on that particular prophecy.”

The Blademaster said no more, caught in the quandary ofcommitting to the prophecy and thereby permitting Ardyn his vengeance. Therewould be no victory for the heroes. No honor for the Shields.