day 1: cross (aymeric, mid-HW, angst) ao3 | tumblr
day 6: onerous (kaede/aymeric, post-EW, fluff) ao3 | tumblr
day 7: pawn (aymeric, SB, character study) ao3 | tumblr
day 9: yawn (kaede+y'shtola, ShB, angst) ao3 | tumblr
day 11: sketch (kaede/aymeric, explicit) ao3 | tumblr
day 12: miss the boat (kaede, pre-ARR, humor) ao3 | tumblr
day 16: deiform (kaede/aymeric, post-ShB, explicit) ao3 | tumblr
day 17: novel (kaede/aymeric, post-ShB, humor) ao3 | tumblr
day 19: turn a blind eye (kaede/aymeric+g'raha mention, post-EW, jealousy/humor) ao3 | tumblr
personal favorites: deiform, a very self-indulgent bit of body worship smut and yawn, a melancholy moment in late-ShB (and also the only time I've ever written y'shtola)
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Sebastian hated kneeling. Not only did his knees protest the cold ache gifted to them by the stone, but the act itself was humiliating. Why so many felt the need to bend to near breaking before a monument to their own irrelevance was beyond him.
“Great Halone, thou art mighty. Blessed by thine name…”
His prayer bore no hint of conviction. The words were compelled from his lips by duty alone.
“Thy power is unmatched, and thy…”
Bright blue eyes scanned the sea of bowed heads. He wasn’t certain when he had added this search to the weekly ritual of recitation. Perhaps it had been born of childhood boredom or the frantic need for fleeting glances he’d known as a teenager. It wasn’t as if either feeling had truly faded, they had simply been dwarfed by his desire to find another willing to commit even the smallest act of defiance. It was a futile quest. One that had become as much rote as the prayer itself.
He wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he found himself surrounded by true devotion. No, he knew the choked sobs coming from the front of the cathedral were meant to put the wailing woman’s virtue and piety on display, an obvious attempt to pull at the heartstrings of potential suitors. It had been a brilliant strategy, once upon a time. Now, it was simply expected.
The owner of each bowed head had come to Saint Reymanaud's Cathedral with a purpose. Sebastian was no exception. As his eyes found their way back to the stone floor beneath him, he silently reminded himself of why he continued his charade, week after week, year after year. It was his own prayer, one that he afforded the same fervor most saved for the Fury.
FFxivWrite 2022
FFxivWrite22 Masterpost
Prompt #7: Pawn
Every interaction was a game, and Lady Covington always intended to win. She had been a puppet on a string before, and with her every action, she ensured such a thing would never happen again. That did not mean she would not subjugate others to the same fate, however. What was a game without pawns, after all? Others might accuse her of failing to see the value of those around her, but she felt quite the contrary. Everyone had their uses, and she liked to pinpoint those. If all else failed, even someone otherwise worthless was still good for dying.
Her feet had wandered into the Twelveswood, far from the roads. The further she wandered, the easier she breathed. Further still and she'd stopped looking over her shoulder. There was solace out there, deep from the prying eyes and lurking threats that haunted her dreams. Out in woods deep and dark and wild did she find peace.
Boots crunching on leafy ground as she wove her way through the ocean of trees, sunlight dappling the earth through the orange and gold canopy above. Onward until umber and flame gave way to verdant lush, till trees laden with fruit filled her vision, the scent of apple heavy in the air.
The Orchard.
And at it's center, the apple tree had twisted, grown, flourished....looming over the clearing at the center with it's boughs of many colors; golden fruits alongside ruby and emeralds, silently beckoning the passerby closer. Begging them to take a few. A dozen. Fill your baskets overflowing. Feast.
But it was one apple in particular that she focused on, it's golden sheen near metallic. The last time she'd seen it, it'd been large, but now it was engorged, hanging upside down from a cluster of leaves. It hung perfectly still, and had it not been for it's positioning, it may have passed for a normal apple.
But she knew better. She remembered the grin, the rows of woodteeth still stained and splattered red. The gangly limbs.
But still she stood, watching as the gnarled, twisted limbs dropped down in a heap, as the creature pulled itself up. The passing season, it had just been and apple with long limbs, but now a torso was forming, the apple settling in place as a head, splitting into that same wood-fanged grin as it stared down at the tiny blonde that stood in it's territory. She could smell the faintest hint of rot in the air.
"You've grown." Her voice remained light, conversational, but her eyes never left the applebourne creature as it started to circle. Eyeless gaze boring into her, sizing her up. Not many returned a second time. Some never left.
"...I gathered apples here last year without permission." The creature gave a hiss, an acknowledgement. A judgement. Who could say?
"I come offering apologies." The crunching of leaves and twigs around her came to a stop. "I didn't think to stop to see if I should ask permission, and for that I offer my apologies and reparations, if you'll accept." Her hand rose, a wicker basket held out. And subsequently snatched, the creature moving faster than her eye could follow, her breath stilling as she waited for a response.
The basket was opening, the golden fruit tilting towards it as it inspected the offering, before it straightened stiffly. In a blink, it stood before her, gnarled vines lifting a few strands of golden locks as it leaned closer.
Close enough she could smell the familiar twang of copper and rot.
"T͏r̀͡ą̵́͘v̵̴̸҉̸è̢̕͞҉̡ļ͘҉̶̕͠ ̸̢͡͞͝͡ẁ̵̨̢̧͜ȩ҉̵҉̷ļ̨̛͠l̡͡,̴ ̸̢S̵̶͜͟ų̵̸̸͞ņ̸̡͝͞͝l͏̢̀͘͘͞i̶̧̛̛͟͠g̵̶̢̢̀͢h̵̸̛͢͢t̸̸̀͢.̸͏" The breathy whisper made her skin tingle, hair standing on end as she felt the stagnant breath against her cheek and neck. She could almost feel the air crackle, and it was only sheer force of will that kept her in place until the creature stood back, leaping back up into it's throne of a tree, obscured by the leaves as it tore into the honeyed meats.
A soft word of thanks was offered to the grove, and a single apple picked for herself, before her footfalls carried her away, leaving the fruit-fallen to it's feast.
Attrition - ‘win a war(or bet or argument etc.) by wearing down the enemy’
——————————
Katsum made a mental note to never make a bet like this again.
She and Aymeric had been joking around last night before bed in the cheesiest and mushiest of ways a couple could, trading compliments back and forth and showering each other in love and affection. Yet when Aymeric had challenged that she was the one who showered him with more affection than he did her, she had made it official.
“We will see who can last the longest tomorrow without a kiss from the other. Whoever wins can tease the other for the rest of the evening. What say you to that?”
Aymeric had grinned at her and moved to lean over her, caging her in with his arms as he stared down into her eyes with a smoldering gaze, “Deal. But you should know, my dear wife…I will be merciless,” His breath tickled her nose and her ears flicked back as she pressed herself lower into the mattress as he moved closer, “That prize is just too sweet to resist.”
Katsum blushed, trying to grin through the nervous excitement she felt to push back, sitting up on her arms to press her forehead against his, “As will I.”
Though that was more a bluff than a promise. He’d grinned wider and at the time, she figured she knew what she was in store for.
She didn’t.
He had indeed been ruthless.
When she woke this morning, he was waiting for her, leaning over her just a breath away.
“Good morning, my love~,” He cooed softly, leaning just slightly closer, inviting her to press her lips against his. She’d almost forgotten, leaning forward with a smile to take it, yet she’d stopped just an inch away and played it off like that was her plan.
“Nice try, dear Aymeric,” She’d hummed as she pushed him away, trying her best to hide the fact that she had almost lost immediately.
“Worry not,” He’d replied as he’d freed himself from the covers, “‘Twas only the beginning.”
And it really had been.
Normally as they both left the house in the morning, he would pull her in for a kiss goodbye. He did the same movement this morning only he stopped to press his nose to hers and whispered, “I pray you have a good day, my sweet, and I hope to see you whenever you catch a free moment.”
She’d blushed at first, yet in retaliation, she’d against pushed back as she’d laid her hand on his chest, gently sliding it down just enough that she knew he would feel it through the layers of his regalia. She watched the slight change in his eyes as they darkened a little and she smiled back, “I’ll come by and spend lunch with you. We will have plenty of time to play our game then.”
He’d hummed in response, “I look forward to it.” He’d turned to leave then, waving her goodbye, and as she’d closed the door behind him, Katsum had to lean against it for a moment to calm herself.
Heavens, why was he always so tempting!?
When she’d come to the Congregation at noon, he’d smiled as she’d walked into his office with the tray of tea and their lunches. He’d taken her hand after she set the tray down, pulling it almost against his lips but stopping just before they touched her skin, looking up at her with the same smoldering eyes he had given her that morning. It sent a shiver down her spine and she cleared her throat and gently pulled her hand away, finding his desk to be very interesting to look at just then.
“Are you alright, my dear Kat?” He’d purred, watching her fight to keep her eyes from his. She’d heard the amusement in his voice clear as day.
“Of course, why do you ask?” She’d smiled as she’d laid out his lunch for him once he’d moved his papers aside, lifting the tea kettle to pour some into his cup.
“Because it appears your tail fur is standing on end.”
She had very nearly dropped the kettle, glancing back to see that her tail was indeed betraying her, the fur puffing out to nearly twice its size. Her embarrassment was very clear and she knew Aymeric had to be holding back a laugh. She tried to hide her tail a bit as she poured his tea and stepped around his chair to pour hers.
“Are you sure you are feeling, alright, dear?” He had asked again with an amused tone to his voice, “Your face does look rather red.”
It had only clicked then how to respond as she’d set down the kettle and moved to press against him from behind, wrapping her arms around his neck where she knew he couldn’t retaliate and whispered next to his ear, “Can you blame me, love? You are always so enticing it’s hard not to get flustered when you’re around.” She blew a little on the back of his ear and watched his grip on his fork tighten. He too had blushed this time yet he’d still glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned back despite the flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.
After that, lunch had passed by quickly, and she’d left him with another exchange of temptations, but neither of them had broken just yet. Now it was close to evening and with the help of the faithful servant of House Borel, she’d set a nice candlelit dinner for the two of them, hoping to find a way to break his resolve before the end of it. Though that had been a few hours ago that she’d had that thought.
She had been waiting quite a while now, glancing up at the clock. Usually, he was home by now and while dinner hadn’t grown cold, it would be before long. An anxious feeling set in; what could he be up to? Her mind raced at the thoughts that came to mind, going from innocent heartfelt gifts to something a bit more..tempting. He wouldn’t get the idea to change his clothes into something like that to walk home in the cold though…would he? The thought was rather scandalous she realized and blushed. It was her husband she was thinking about, so it was alright to let her mind wander though it certainly did not save her from the ever-darkening flush on her cheeks to let it do so.
Suddenly, her ears perked at the sound of the front door opening and of footsteps of someone coming in out of the cold, “I’m home. I’m sorry I ran behind.”
Something about Aymeric’s voice sounded off so she stood quickly and headed towards the hall, hoping he wasn’t fooling her into a false sense of comfort. As she turned out of the dining room door and caught his gaze down the hall, she knew he wasn’t.
His eyes were tired, his posture showing his exhaustion. Whatever had happened after lunch had taken its toll on him she guessed. She sighed and smiled sadly at him, moving to meet him there. He smiled tiredly at her as she moved up to him, reaching out to cup her face and move in…
…And stop as he remembered. His eyes widened as hers did, the thought clicking for both at the same time.
“Ah, right…the challenge,” He sighed, nearly letting go before he shook his head, “I will take the loss. It has been a very long day and I really wish to kiss you.”
He drew her in yet before he could initialize the kiss, she pressed forward and kissed him first. She could tell he was surprised but didn’t let it stop him from kissing her, gently holding her cheek as he sighed in relief. She pulled away for a breath and whispered against his lips, “How about we call it a draw instead?”
He blinked, but smiled and nodded, “As long as I get to kiss you again.”
“Of course, you may,” She pecked his lips again, moving closer and pressing against him, “And the rest of the evening is ours to spend together.”
“Yes…at last,” He kissed her again, pulling her into a deeper kiss than before so that she wrapped her arms around his neck.
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Garlean Warrior of Light [Aurelia Laskaris], original characters, Gaius van Baelsar
AO3 LINK HERE
Fic beneath cut.
====================================
A disconsolate sigh broke the silence, echoing against the purple-toned stones and granite floors.
The palace stood as a towering monument to Ala Mhigan might- or it had done so, once. Anshelm Cotter's descendants had sat the throne for a thousand years, their reign ended in ignominy but a handful of years ago. The XIVth Legion of the Garlean Empire had acted upon their opportunity and sacked the city. The wings full of grand rooms stood all but empty nowadays save for swarms of imperial bureaucrats and the odd legate officer.
The sole occupant of the massive guest wing hallway this evening was a young Garlean girl of ten and a half winters, chewing on the end of one errant forelock and glaring at the light that spilled from the opened doors ahead. She let her shoulders slump and heaved another loud and self-pitying sigh for good measure.
All for naught, it seemed, as none of the nearby adults appeared to take any notice.
Isn't there anything to do around here? I'm so bored.
Only a sennight past Father had announced over supper that there was to be a garden party at the viceroy's palace, hosting all the officers of the legion along with their families. Aurelia would be going, of course, he told L'haiya, and she was to have a new dress made for the occasion. "House Laskaris has our pride to consider," he said, "and I'll not have us put to shame before the other families."
Aurelia barely heard the rest of it. She was thrilled beyond words. The viceroy's palace! And Father wanted to take her with him to a grownup party! He was always going there for important meetings with the army, and now she was finally going to see inside a real palace, and Sazha and Elle would be coming too!
She tried to imagine what it would be like-- there would be fine food and music, no doubt. Maybe even dancing. They were going to a palace, after all.
It was all so exciting that she'd been unable to think of aught else: her studies or even her pianoforte lessons, and L'haiya had given up on forcing the matter halfway through the week.
When they'd arrived, however, she discovered that they were only allowed free reign in one small wing of the building. It consisted of a parlor, a dining room, a library with books full of words that her governess said would be too dense for Aurelia to read, and the small porch and garden beyond.
"But I want to see the whole palace," she complained, crossing her arms in a huff.
"Don't pout, Aurelia. It's unseemly. The reason we're not allowed elsewhere is because the palace is the viceroy's administrative building. The rest of the palace is meant for him and his staff. It's full of important things, and all the tasks the viceroy has to do to keep the province running as smoothly as possible."
"Important things? What sort of things?"
"Things not meant for young eyes," her governess had said, unmistakable irritation in her voice. Aurelia and Sazha exchanged dismayed glances; they both knew that meant her patience was at an end. "As for you, young mistress Laskaris-- you'll be minding me and your lord father and remain where you're bid, do you understand? No exploring out of bounds."
Needless to say, Aurelia's disillusionment had caused the novelty of their palace visit to wear off very quickly. As if to add insult to injury, only moments after their arrival Father had taken Sazha with him and ordered her to remain in the parlor. L'haiya had been drawn into conversation by another Miqo'te woman, leaving Aurelia to her own devices once she was satisfied the girl wouldn't go into any of the restricted areas.
This wasn't turning out at all to be the exciting evening she had hoped for. Feeling quite put out indeed, Aurelia made her way towards the opened back doors, seeking a private place to sulk. Somewhere outside, where Elle couldn't find her and scold her for unladylike behavior.
Once she reached the heavy-looking porch railing she stood on her tiptoes and leveraged her weight up - heedless of the way her dress snagged on the rough-cut bricks and mortar - and stared out over the garden with a listless scowl.
The grounds were very pretty, she had to admit that. Father had called them 'lavish' when he'd described them to her and Elle. He had said this was the smallest of five, built for the old king's wife to host her guests from far away lands. They were still larger than anything Aurelia had ever seen before, certainly nothing like her own small flower bed and its tiny mosaic fountain.
Soft-looking lanterns hung in graceful loops along the outlines of pots and trellises, and the warm evening air sat like a soft blanket on her shoulders, laden with the scents of several flowers she didn't recognize. The greenery was all a kind of pungent-smelling shrub she'd never seen before: immense and close-cut things all trimmed into shapes as if they were statues. They stood like dark sentinels at each corner, guarding the neatly laid brick pathways (Aurelia couldn't help but wonder why the pretty brick footpaths were all just one big circle. They didn't seem to go anywhere interesting at all).
Clusters of officers, all men, milled about the paths in their dress uniforms, laughing and chatting with each other over their drinks. She spotted a few women as well in their evening gowns for the occasion. A few of them wore jewels to decorate their ears and wrists and necks but even those who didn't were no less dazzling to her eyes. Silk organza and sachet drifted about them like perfumed clouds, and in the encroaching twilight all those wispy-looking gowns reminded her of ghostly moth wings. They seemed to flutter about the lights, as if drawn to them.
Aurelia tried to listen to the adults' conversation for some few minutes, but heard nothing worth her attention. The ones who weren't gossiping about other grownups were talking about happenings in the far-off capital and things like trade routes-- subjects she either didn't understand or wasn't interested enough to care about.
With a certain sense of disgust she decided to explore the rest of the grounds by herself. If Sazha got mad that she'd gone ahead without him, well, it was his own fault.
She meandered past the long table with the big glass bowl and little crystal cups - the kitchen staff were scooping spoonfuls of something colorful into small bowls, but she wasn't curious enough to watch - and around the deck. Beyond the sweeping stairs and idle noise she made a discovery: the well-lit upper slope of a neatly trimmed verge. It rolled down a gentle hill and at its base lay sandstone walls and the very tall gates she had seen on their approach (L'haiya had sternly told her to stay away from them) and a few trees like the one by their parlor window at home.
The sound of voices nearby-- young voices-- stopped her in her tracks.
"No, no! You're doing it all wrong, Horatius," someone was saying. Aurelia's brow wrinkled in a frown. The lights from the party didn't go all the way out to the wall; part of the verge was dark and if she squinted she could just barely make out movement below. A bunch of-- boys, it sounded like? Some of the officers' kids, maybe. "You're just supposed to make him jump. Like this."
In almost the same instant she heard an answering clang and rattle, and the cluster of boys below broke into raucous laughter. Aurelia was halfway down the slope, snatching up a stone before she could even think about what she was doing.
The laughing was instantly silenced at the sight of her approach, and in the same instant she saw her best friend, crouched in the grass and staring steadily at his feet. His ears were flattened against his head, and his tail...
They had tied empty cans to his tail.
Enraged, Aurelia rounded on his tormentors, and as she did she recognized Horatius and Linus, two neighborhood boys who always went around causing trouble together. The third boy lived two houses down from the Laskaris villa, a timid lad even younger than herself. "Victor," she snapped at him, "go on. Get out of here."
His chin wobbled, but lifted in defiance nonetheless. "No girl tells me what to do."
"Victor bas Ennius," Aurelia put on the most threatening scowl she could muster, "you get out of here and go back to that party right now and maybe I won't have L'haiya tell your mum what I saw you doing. If you're lucky."
Victor looked from her cold and furious face to the two larger boys and she watched his resolve crumble like a piece of chalk left out in the rain. He stumbled backward a few steps, then took off running up the verge towards the garden. The two remaining boys, laughing, shouted insults after him, called him a coward.
Good, she thought angrily. It's what he deserves. He knows better.
"Relia," Sazha muttered at her back. His voice was unsteady enough to let her know that he was close to tears. "Don't."
"What's the matter?" Horatius' words were as cloying as the exaggerated pout he wore. "Aww, don't be so mad, Aurelia! We didn't know the ickle kitty cat was yours."
"You should put a collar on him in case he gets lost again," Linus chimed in, jabbing at his accomplice's ribs with one elbow, and the pair broke into a fresh wave of jeering laughter. Aurelia could feel the stone, still clasped securely within her closed fist as she stepped forward.
"Where did you get those cans, anyway, Linus?" she shot back. "Did you dig them out of the trash bin with you when you got up this morning?"
Linus' smile disappeared.
"You better watch your mouth if you know what's good for you and your friend, you little brat."
"And you better leave Sazha alone from now on. Or else."
"Or else what? You think we're scared of you?" Horatius shot back. "Think your pater's going to come beat us up for you? He doesn't have the stones. Not for the bastard he got stuck with."
Aurelia's face blanched to the color of paper. She was young yet, but she knew well enough what that word meant.
"You take that back!"
"Yeah? Are you gonna make me, bastard?"
"Stop, Relia!" Sazha shouted, dragging himself to his feet at last. "Don't let him-"
He was too late and Aurelia would have paid him no mind even if she had been willing to listen.
She reared back her fist and belted Horatius bas Dellius in the face as hard as she could. There was a loud and awful crunching noise, the rock in her hand lending force to the blow. Horatius' nose all but crumpled under her fist and a bright spray of red erupted behind it.
Something warm and wet struck her cheeks and her neck, but Aurelia barely noticed through her furious haze. She hit him a second time, and a third, and another, and another.
He fell to the ground and Aurelia fell with him.
Someone nearby was shouting an alarum. There were footsteps, multiple footsteps on the grass. Aurelia heard and didn't care. They weren't important. She hissed and spat and shouted the foulest curses she could remember overhearing from her father at the top of her lungs, fists flying with as many wild punches as her small and spindly body could manage to land.
Horatius recovered from his shock quickly. One of his own fists struck her square in the jaw and cheekbone-- but even the shocking flash of pain that cracked through her temple and the stars crackling at the edges of her vision weren't enough to stop her rampage. He grabbed one of her wrists and yanked her forward to grab a fistful of her curls, then lost his grip when teeth sank into the unprotected meat of his forearm.
"Get her off me!" he shouted, but Aurelia was not done.
"Father does want me!" she screamed, still pummeling. "He does! He does! You take that back, Horatius bas Dellius! You take that back!!"
"Make-"
"ENOUGH!"
A pair of hands scruffed them both and dragged them apart, as effortlessly as if they were pups fighting over table scraps. Aurelia dangled mid-air, still spitting curses as Horatius was dropped without ceremony to the ground. His left eye was blackened and his face was covered in blood-- what little she could see of it with him cupping his nose with both hands.
Her belly dropped through the ground when she saw her governess' face, livid with anger.
"Aurelia Constantia bas Laskaris," L'haiya dus Eyahri hissed, shaking her by the collar, "you are in a world of trouble, young miss."
"They were hurting Sazha! They were throwing rocks at him! And Horatius called me-"
"I do not care what he called you! You've humiliated me and you've made a fool of yourself and your father. Do you have any idea what-"
"Mistress Eyahri," a deep, mild voice interrupted, "if I may?"
A tall, bronzed man stepped forward, wearing a scarlet-trimmed black uniform. Father had some of the medals he wore on his chest, but this man had far more of them and there were quite a few of them that Aurelia didn't recognize. His expression was grave but she thought she saw the faint quirk of a smile turning up one corner of his mouth.
Elle immediately lowered her charge to the ground.
"My lord," she said, her bow and her speech both more formal than Aurelia had ever heard before. "I offer Lord rem Laskaris' most sincere apologies for his daughter's behavior. Pray forgive the girl; she is young and thoughtless."
The stranger still wore that oddly rueful half-smile. "There is nothing to forgive, madam," he replied. "Tribunus sas Dellius might feel otherwise, perhaps. All the same, he is a reasonable man, and I rather believe he will consider this incident highly educational for his son. Perhaps young Horatius will consider his actions -- and the odds -- more wisely in future."
Out of the corner of her eye Aurelia thought she saw the boy cringe and look away. Or maybe he was just trying to stop his nose from bleeding.
"As you say, lord viceroy."
He inclined his chin towards her governess in acknowledgement before turning his attention to Aurelia herself. She swallowed, her stomach turning in sudden apprehension (or perhaps it was the building throb of pain in her bruised face. Horatius' punch was starting to really hurt). She had attacked a tribune's son at the viceroy's garden party - a tribune who was one of her father's superiors.
Bad enough that Elle had seen it, but Lord van Baelsar had seen it too and that was so much worse. Father was going to be furious.
"Young mistress Laskaris, I presume," he said. He took her right hand - either not noticing or simply not minding that her knuckles were smeared red - and patted it gently. "A pleasure to meet you. Your father speaks well of you."
"He does?" Aurelia bit her lip, winced at a fresh wave of pain and the coppery taste of her own blood, and tried with all the pitiful dignity she still possessed to sketch him a curtsy. A very clumsy, wobbly curtsy; the world still spun a touch and she felt very dizzy. "P-pleased to meet you. Lord Viceroy. Ser."
"It was very brave of you to come to your young friend's rescue. You were outnumbered," he said. "Somewhat foolhardy, yes. But very brave. And strong. That strength will serve you well."
Aurelia wasn't sure if it was praise, not quite, but she'd take it. "Thank you, ser."
He was almost smiling; there was something like a twinkle in his pale golden eyes. "A word of advice, Mistress Laskaris." The legatus took her hand and balled it into a fist, then gently clasped her wrist and guided her arm in a slow arc through the air. "Aim like this the next time you throw a punch. You'll hit your target more often, you'll strike with more concentrated force, and you stand a far lesser chance of injuring yourself."
She couldn't think of anything to say except, "I'll remember that, ser."
As if no incident had transpired at all, the viceroy stood and strode back up the verge towards the garden without another word spoken. After a few bemused moments, the rest of the party followed.
~*~
"Was it worth it?" Sazha asked later. He'd grabbed his brush when she sneaked downstairs to get him, and now he sat on her bed while she brushed his freshly washed tail to a glorious, shining softness. Its tip twitched gently against the palm of her hand.
"Was what worth it?"
"Your da grounding you for the next fortnight."
"Aye, it was. ...Maybe. My dress is ruined from all the blood, I thi- Hey! Ow!" She slapped his hand away with a wince. "Don't poke my cheek! it hurts!"
"The medicus didn't heal it?"
"Not all of it. He said it has to heal on its own."
"Oh."
They fell silent for a moment. Aurelia could hear the burble of her little garden fountain through the open window. A cool breeze struck her face, whispering gently against her cheek and the eye that had swollen shut. She sighed.
"Sazha?"
"Yeah?"
"I wanted to say that... that I'm sorry. About tonight. I should have listened. I know you didn't want me to pick a fight, but I couldn't stop myself."
"I just didn't want you to get in trouble." His brow creased with a worried frown. "And are you all right? What they said to you about your father, that was cruel. I knew there was talk but-"
"What they said doesn't matter. Not really. It hurt but it just... on top of everything else it just made me mad more than anything. They were going to really hurt you, Sazha. I had to do something." She set down the brush in her hand. "...Have they been doing that kind of stuff to you this whole time?"
"Not the whole time." He shrugged listlessly, eyes cast away from hers. "I'm usually better at making sure they can't find me."
"Sazha, if you had just said something-"
"And then what? Relia, you don't understand how things are for me. Or for Elle. You can't, because you can't see them."
"See?"
"It's... never mind." It was Sazha's turn to sigh. "It's not something I can explain and it doesn't matter now anyway."
"Sazha-"
"I told you, never mind. I don't want to talk about it anymore." He slid off her bed, righted himself, then paused. The distant expression in his eyes was gone and the boy she knew was there once more, offering her a mischievous smirk. "...I'm not really all that sorry you stepped in, you know. I've never seen Horatius bas Dellius take a beating like that, and from someone half his size? I wager he had to empty his smalls when he got home."
"Elle was mad. Really mad."
"I know. She used your middle name."
"Right in front of Father's whole legion." Aurelia grinned. "I broke his nose."
"I think the viceroy was impressed."
"Father rather less so."
"It could have been worse."
"He'll never invite me to another dinner."
Sazha shrugged. "Maybe not, but do you really care?"
Aurelia considered the question for a beat. Recalled the elegance of the ladies' gowns, the uniforms, the grandeur of the palace and the food and the idle chatter. The gardens in their neat rows and the shaped shrubberies. At last she shook her head. The movement made her head throb in silent protest.
"Hells, no," she said with a short laugh. "That was the most boring party I've ever been to."
"You can say that again. Stay here."
"Where are you going?"
"To the kitchen. I don't know about you but I could eat a chocobo whole. Are you hungry? I can get you some mangoes."
"Sure!"
Aurelia beamed at Sazha. Once he had bounced through the door and drew it closed with a soft snick, she reached for one of the adventure stories from the shelf by her bed. She could practice reading her Eorzean letters while they ate.
The night, she thought cheerfully, was already improving.
I call out to the skies and tremble as the brilliance of a thousand bolts blinds mine enemies and tears their flesh asunder!
Livvy Ahtynwyb Eynskyfwyn walked through the halls of the Orbonne Monastery feeling as though she had been there countless times before. In the wake of Mustadio's defeat, she could turn a corner and remember a time when laughter streamed out from a darkened stretch of corridor; even now, thousands of years removed, long-forgotten chants delivered in progressions in fifths unto a half-remembered deity seemed to echo through the dusty air, keeping the undead all around her at bay.
Then Ahtyn gazed up at a portrait, and the name of its subject was on the tip of her tongue until she remembered that she had never been here before. That realization did nothing to sway the unshakeable conviction that pounded like a heartbeat through her thoughts: I must keep her safe.
She stepped out of the dim cloister and was not surprised to meet a mirror of herself in the votive-lit cavern beyond.
The Beoulve youth guides your fate, but have you the faith to fulfill his legacy?
It was a strange thing, to call oneself a free paladin. The title was oxymoronic by nature, as any true paladin worthy of the distinction had a person or a place to swear themself to. That was the way of it in all the stories of eld - the canon to which she'd aspired long before she'd ever set out on her journey. Even if those stories had each bent history to their own whims, they'd resonated with truths all their own. That, as Ahtyn saw it, was power in its purest form.
Minfilia had been the closest she'd ever come to swearing herself to anything of note. Minfilia, to whom she had been drawn as if by fate, who had given her the inkling she'd needed to begin her adventures in earnest. And then Minfilia had answered Hydaelyn's call without a moment's hesitation in a way Ahtyn herself would have never had the courage to do. She had left Ahtyn to wander alone, bereft of any true lodestar. The Scions themselves could not fill the void she'd left, not least of all because half of them had fled.
There was a sort of futility to her station, even now: the inevitability of fighting to save a loved one whom she would only ever lose - whom she would never truly know.
To see Agrias before her, transformed by her purpose and centuries of dormant aether, brought that truth into perspective for perhaps the first time.
Ahtyn charged, met her shield with Agrias' own, and screamed out a grief she had not known she had been carrying.
***
Well fought, champion, she declared at last, and Ahtyn heaved a sigh. I leave you now to your quest.
Agrias blessedly returned to herself at the end, a final mercy. In the moment her soul departed, Ahtyn heard one last whisper, nearly lost amid the rush of water and the magicks that would convey her to her next foe.
Violetta paced beside her brother’s bed. Though slumber was a rare visitor for her, he had found ways to sleep even when his illnesses were at their wracking. So, when she found him sleeping, she wrestled with the urgency she was feeling. She still didn’t quite have a handle on it when Valerian stirred.
“I dare say, sister,” he murmured with a groggy smirk. “You look downright cross.”
Violetta ceased her pacing to turn and look at him, her expression melting into a pout. “Is it terribly obvious?” She asked.
Valerian shifted up the bed, placing his back against the plush headboard and patting the empty spot beside him. The twins were close, even centuries and calamities had not changed that. Violetta dutifully slipped out of her boots and crawled up beside him. He wrapped a weak arm around her, and she did the same before resting her head on his shoulder.
“Tell brother your troubles, though if this is about your tall, handsome, and mysterious paramour, I may need a drink,” he teased.
Violetta rolled her scarlet eyes and shook her head.
“No. Not about him,” she sighed. “If only it were boy troubles.”
She didn’t mean it. The man she was falling for was not one that she would ever want troubles with, but perhaps petty romance woes would be better than what weighed on her so heavily.
“It is about your former retainer. It is about Jason Hollander,” she admitted after composing her thoughts. "I can’t find him and he’s still threatening us. He wants money. The sword wasn’t enough and now he wants money, or he swears he will bring the Patron back to this realm.”
Valerian remained silent, growing morose as the ancient chronometer steadily counted down the seconds across the room. After a bit, he brushed his hand back through his hair, flattening back his bare ears. They popped back up immediately, unwilted as Valerian continued to concentrate.
“I can locate him,” he said as he started to stir again.
Violetta moved to hold him in place. “No. That isn’t what I came here for. I just needed to talk freely about it.”
Valerian paused and looked at her with concern. “Can you not talk freely about this with your paramour? Or those that truly know you?”
“No, I can. And he’s …well not just him, but another, they have oathed to help me remove the threat. But, this our burden before it is theirs, isn’t it?”
“Vi…if the Patron crosses over, it becomes everyone’s problem. Everyone who is close to us,” Valerian reminded firmly. “What is this really about? You come here with anger and fear but you do not want to do anything about it? When have you ever chosen inaction?”
Words failed her for a few attempts, her painted lips parting and then closing systematically. Though frustrated with her hot and cold approach, Valerian gave her the time she needed, settling back in and wrapping his arm around her once more.
“I still fear I made the wrong choice and that makes me feel awful,” she admitted quietly. “Something about joining Graveyard Company and befriending so many of them makes me feel awful. Guilty. I am endangering them, and though Kuri and Siegwulf have assured me that I have their support, just as they have mine, I feel as though death waits in my shadow.”
Valerian rolled his eyes now but smiled comfortingly as he turned to press his forehead against her temple. He spoke softy as he reassured her.
“My dear, deeply empathetic sister,” he whispered. “From everything you’ve told me, you have not befriended lambs. They are not fragile things, no matter how mortal they are. You have told me their story, and honestly, sister, they are of…legend. They are made of the same material as mythology. You have chosen correctly. You do not doubt them. You doubt yourself and…you need to nip that in the bud. We cannot afford doubt. Do you hear me?”
Violetta maintained a stoic expression a moment before crumbling. She didn’t shed tears. She wouldn’t waste the energy, but a dry sob shuddered through her. She wasn’t crying out of fear or sorrow. The emotion that swept over her was fueled by the realization that she was letting her brother down by wallowing in her own self-pity.
“You’re right,” she admitted while turning to press her forehead to his.
“Of course, I am. I am older.”
“By less than five minutes,” she replied dryly.
“Now. I am going to find him. I need time, but I will locate his hidey hole. Give me a week or two? Then, perhaps, you can bring the two you hope to help you?”
Violetta hesitated slightly but ultimately nodded. Rather than baring more of her concern, she relaxed back against the mountain of pillows and sighed.
“I will bring you something to eat,” she added after a moment.
Valerian nodded his approval and settled as well. He broke his silence with something a fair bit less touching.