#ffxivwrite2020

All three of them couldn’t help but forget their lunch for the moment as the tentacle-heads passed. Well, no – it was disrespectful to call them that. Laelia mentally chided herself for slipping back into her old habits, offering a dutiful salute instead. The tenta—the Chosen didn’t give any indication of having noticed much of anything as they shambled on their way. They were above such things.

“Man. Why don’t they have to eat?” Gallus asked, pouting down at his Bowl of Brown. They weren’t sure what was in it, but such paltry things as flavor and texture didn’t really matter right now. “Imagine how much more work we could get done if we didn’t have to stop all the damn time.”

“Or sleep?” Marco smirked, twirling his spoon between his fingers. “The emperor sustains his Chosen on aether alone. If we work hard enough that could be us too, y’know.”

“We’ve been busting our balls.” Laelia frowned, stabbing at a dubious chunk of gristle with her spoon. “What did they do to get noticed by His Radiance?”

“Patience, dear sister.” Marco grinned. “He brought us back together, right? We’ll get what we deserve in time.”

Laelia had to smile to that. It was true. Marco had been missing since...since...she couldn’t quite remember. But she did recall her family had been devastated. It was only by Emperor Varis’ guidance that she was able to find her little brother again. Strangely enough she couldn’t remember where the rest of her family was now, but she was certain they’d understand. It’d be natural to assume that a loyal soldier like Laelia would have gone to help with the war effort. After all, they were at war with everyone.

She remembered Grandfather too, much as she was loathe to. The way he always looked at me so dismissively, with that infuriating frown. The disappointment that shone in his yellow eyes.

“You think it’s what?” he asked flatly.

“Reductive,” I replied. “I’ve seen every trope in this play a hundred times by now.”

Grandfather just rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t know drama if it backhanded you with an iron gauntlet and called your mother fat. Which she was, by the by.”

“You’d insult her?” I growled.

“Her, and that saddlebag of a face that you were so kind to inherit. Alas that only one of my sons had any taste.” And then he went back to watching.

I spent the rest of the night glaring at him rather than watching his trite little show. But sometimes, when he was distracted with the play, the other half of him would temporarily regain some measure of control over his own body. Solus would glance back at me with wide unfocused eyes, a confused and terrified old man who had no idea where he was, and I’d feel bile surge up in my throat.

Laelia grimaced as she swallowed the bile. No wait, that was stew. Those weren’t her memories. Hells, she’d never been to a stage play in her life, other than that one time Verina’s class did Romulus and Julia in high school. Verina had been cast as Julia. That’d been awkward to watch.

The whistle blew. They all hurriedly gulped down the rest of their slop, hugged each other, and went back to work. Marco and Gallus returned to work on the warmachina, and Laelia went back to guarding the trains. It was boring work if she was being honest, but she knew it was of tremendous import. More and more resources were being funneled into the palace, and with news of invaders beginning to creep over the borders it was now more important than ever that she help keep the supply lines safe. She had vague memories of those peoples, too – the poncy long-ears, the insufferable midgets, the hyur and the Angry Hyur. She remembered their cruel magics and their crude weapons.

She remembered the moment the sword punched into her belly. Popped through armor and flesh as though I were paper-thin. A shock of hot electric pain. That cold gleam in his eyes. I’d always known this day was coming but I still felt betrayed. I seethed immeasurably at the boy, but the worst part was that, even as my legs gave beneath me, I still felt love for him. Abominable monster that he was, he was still my son.

“What the fuck,” Laelia breathed, clutching her head. She had to focus, dammit. She’d never get promoted like this.

And so she worked, and she worked. She watched the trains and moved cargo and disciplined the more unruly captives being shipped off to His Radiance as tribute. And as the sun sank lower in the sky and the light began to fade through the windows outside, Laelia felt her pulse climb and her stomach churn. She hated night time. Night time meant she had to sleep. And every night it was always the same.

She tried to stave it off, tried to scrounge up coffee rations – but they were all since long gone, or else stolen by the traitors outside. So instead she tried to redouble her efforts, to keep working so that she didn’t have time to get tired, but that only seemed to accelerate it. At last her brother and Gallus returned and dragged her back to the barracks, remaining in good spirits the whole while.

“I know, I know.” Marco laughed. “We wanted to keep working too, but we’re of no use to His Radiance if we fall asleep on the job. Just a few quick hours and we can get back to it.”

That wasn’t the problem, though.

Laelia tried to stay awake in her cot, tried to lie in uncomfortable positions, tried to shed her blanket so she’d stay too cold. She tried everything. But she was dog-tired, and eventually sleep came for her anyway. And with it came that face. That manic, grinning, awful face. The hatchet in his hand. The way he sang such a carefree tune as he vigorously hacked into my right arm. It wasn’t anything so skilled as a medical cut; no, he butchered me like a slaughtered cow. When he’d gotten far enough through the bone, he tore the rest of the limb off and tossed it aside, where it landed with a wet slap on the granite floor.

He came for the other. Then my legs. Each one took an eternity to sever, forcing me to listen to the wet crunch of my own musculature. Afterwards he pulled out a knife and carved open my torso, dove in as if to seek buried treasure, and sawed free my heart and my liver. Those, too, he scooped out and added to the pile. And then – and only then, because he wished to keep me there to watch – when he was certain that I’d suffered his every cut and insult – he hacked off my head.

------------------------------------------

"Sit, Sazha."

Only two words, but they carried the unmistakable note of command.

L'haiya dus Eyahri had had the run of the Laskaris household since he'd come to live here, with a remarkable carte blanche that precious few non-Garleans in her position could boast. Even if it was in large part because Julian rem Laskaris no longer cared to see to such matters himself, let alone the rearing and education of his only daughter.

Although Sazha had outstripped her in height with last year's growth spurt, Aurelia's governess intimidated him every ilm as much now as she had when he was naught but a nameless market district starveling, insinuating himself into the household of one of the Empire's great families through chance alone. 

In truth, he wasn't certain the lord of the house was willing to challenge her often. She wielded her authority the way a castrum prafectus might. Small wonder Lord Julian let her do as she wished.

Sazha sat. His tail twitched with apprehension, smacking the arm of the chair.

For her part L'haiya peered down at him with her arms folded across her chest, expression oddly neutral. 

"I suppose you're wondering why you were summoned," she said without preamble.

He was fairly certain he knew already, but nodded regardless. She stood before him in silence for a few beats before moving towards the master's grand chair, sitting empty by the fireplace. The flagstones were immaculate, free of ash, the pit itself barren - Ala Mhigo's winters were chilly, and also the only time the villa was cold enough to need a fire.

"Lord Julian has asked to speak with me about a matter that concerns the pair of you."

Sazha felt his stomach clench and took a deep and measured breath. With any luck she sensed none of his internal turmoil.

"Concerning what?"

"He and I are both fairly certain that Aurelia will pass her extrance exams and be admitted to the Imperial Magitek Academy's medical programme." L'haiya sat, folding her hands in her lap, legs folded and ankles crossed, posture a perfect mirror of any Garlean lady he had ever seen. "As I'm certain you've noticed, Lord Julian is not... the most amiable man, but he is well aware of his daughter's fondness for you."

"Elle, I'm not sure what this has to do wit-"

"If it is determined that she is to enroll, he wishes for the two of us to accompany her to the capital for her orientation next autumn."

That... was not what he had expected to hear. "Wait. You mean..."

"In addition, Lord Julian has offered to make an arrangement with the viceroy which would waive your conscription draft requirement for a full year, in order that you might do so."

"Oh," he said, somewhat faintly. Sazha's hands had curled into fists with his apprehension and as he exhaled softly he felt them start to uncurl from his sweat-soaked palms. "Well, that's... that's good, isn't it? I'm sure Aurelia will be delighted when you give her the news."

"I'm not done," she lifted one hand, palm facing outward. "You will thank Lord Julian for his generosity and decline that offer."

Stunned, Sazha’s smile froze and faltered before it disappeared entirely.

"What- why would you want me to decline? If he believes Aurelia has need of me, then as her closest friend I should-"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You don't intend to send her halfway across the world alone, do you? Elle, she'll be miserable by herself."

"Aurelia will not be alone. She will simply be apart from you," L'haiya said flatly, settling her hand back into her lap, "and that separation will be a better outcome for all concerned. Yourself included."

His heart began to pound. He'd never tried to gainsay his guardian before. Aurelia, possessed of a far more tenacious disposition, had butted heads with L'haiya many a time over the years and such altercations nearly always ended poorly for her. She'd been severely lectured, dressed down by her father, had her outdoor privileges taken away on several occasions, had endured all manner of censure - and it didn't matter. She always defied them the moment she saw fit, usually over some injustice whether real or perceived.

Sazha himself had always been the model child: the grateful ward, the boy who never gave his guardian trouble.

Well, he told himself firmly, there's a first time for everything. "I'm not leaving her."

"Yes. You are."

"Elle-"

She was tapping something in her hand against the armrest. Blue. Small. The card he'd received in the post just yesterday afternoon.

"Early tomorrow morning, I expect you to take your leave of the house permanently. You will take a transport across the loch, present yourself at Porta Praetoria, and obey what orders you are given as per the demands of the draft."

"You can't be serious. You're asking me to just... to simply up and leave her? Without any warning?"

"No, I'm telling you. This is not a request."

"Why are you doing this? I've done nothing to deserve this sudden change and yet you're so eager to rid yourself of me."

L'haiya let out a long, sharp sigh.

"I have let the two of you alone because until now I deemed your presence a benefit. You have been what she desperately needed, a boon companion, one who keeps her feet firmly anchored to the earth where they belong. Were it not for us, I've little doubt that girl would be as blindly adherent to these foolish and dangerous notions of self-superiority as the rest of her kind."

His face flushed; he felt for a moment a flash of protective anger.

"She is stronger than you think," he retorted. "Even if she weren't, none of this explains why you wish to send me skulking away like- like some thief, in the dead of night. As if I've done something wrong."

For long moments, his guardian said nothing. But her expression was as severe as he'd ever seen it, and her gaze-- there might as well have been steel in her eyes, so unflinching was that stare. 

Sazha's protest died on his lips.

"I know what you're thinking, young man," she said, the words clipped and cold. "You think that because no one has said aught to either of you about it, surely no one must be the wiser. Rest assured, I do know. There are rumors. Alarming rumors, which I have managed to dispel only at great risk."

"Why didn't you-"

"Why didn't I say anything? I should have, and you're fortunate that I intervened. If her father knew I would be the least of your worries. He would easily be able to claim you were the instigator of your little romance, and no court would question him, not in this land nor any other in the Empire. They'd stretch your neck before a sennight had passed." "Nothing has even happened between us!" "You know as well as I do that wouldn't matter to them either."

Sazha swallowed. He couldn't take his eyes off the card in her hand.

"Friendship - as much as any of us can truly befriend a Garlean - is all well and fine. But you cannot allow yourself to be more than that." Something almost like sympathy lingered in the twist of her lips. "Not here."

With effort he managed to wrench his eyes away from hers to stare at the pattern on the Thavnairian rug, shoulders hunched, chin dropped in silent defeat. His ears flattened unhappily against his head, tail slapping the seat cushion, and he could still feel her stare boring into him. He wanted to refuse. He wanted to defy her the way Aurelia always did when she ran up against L'haiya's rules.

But Sazha understood the stakes. As much as he loved her, he knew Aurelia wouldn't, not really. Real consequences didn’t yet exist in her world. But in his, in L’haiya’s, they did, and they went far beyond the trivial reprisal of being caught with a stolen treat or sneaking out for a night beyond the walls of the villa.

"She won't understand," he said, very softly.

"No," L'haiya agreed. "She'll see it as a betrayal of the worst sort."

He swallowed again. His throat felt so tight it was difficult to breathe. The sound of a creak across the room, footsteps, made his right ear flicker against his hair. "She'll hate me," Sazha whispered, and then there were arms around him and his guardian's scent drifting between them like a cloud. Sweet pea. He recognized it from the garden.

"She'll hate me, you mean," and he could hear a certain melancholy resignation alongside the wry note in her voice. "But I can weather her anger just fine."

"But-"

"No buts, boy. Don't you worry yourself about Aurelia. You're right about one thing- she's strong."

"Obstinate, you mean," Sazha snorted. His sight seemed to blur at the edges- briefly mortified, he swiped with one thumb at the moisture that seeped from the corner of his eye. "Stubborn as a bloody aurochs."

"Aye, just like her lord father. Her mother, come to that. She'll need that tenacity of hers soon enough, but she'll manage well enough on her own whether she believes it or not.”

He sighed. “I know.” 

“I'll make sure she can write to you from that school- but you keep your head down and do what they tell you, do you understand? Stay out of trouble. I- we can't lose you too."

Overhead he heard a trembling sigh, then what felt suspiciously like a kiss placed against the crown of his head. He was unsure what she meant by that but knew full well that she wept, a sight even Aurelia had never seen before. 

He also knew she would want him to spare her blushes. Just as he did.