#rush comms

Kotaro was hardly surprised to be informed that the Ishgardians within Coerthas were reluctant to receive aid from anyone who swore fealty to another nation. He could have said that himself, considering his experience with the proud and standoffish people.

Hells, the Ishgardians were so damned frosty and hostile that they had very little desire to receive aid from those who held no such allegiance, not even an adventurer like himself.

Course, their particular distaste for him could be layers of things. Being miqo'te, the slightest hint that he might have been a pirate just from hearing his lominsan accent—which he was, formerly, a part of the Kraken's Arms, but that wasn't any of their business—or daring to be an outsider at all.

Cor, it probably really was all of those things combined that were working against him in his attempt to find the correct information to guide him on his way. He did not fancy having to talk to every person in the Conservatorium just to find the man he was looking for.

Kotaro had been brushed off and dismissed by several elezen—not to mention looked down the nose at; damned tall bastards—before being pointed in the right direction of the man he was seeking. Ywain bloody well owed him for sending him off with only the bare minimum of information.

Alberic seemed a decent enough fellow, all things considered. But he would be more agreeable company to the miqo'te by not only being a rare midlander hyur of similar height to him in a sea of snooty, hostile oversized elezen, but also being the first person to greet him with any measure of warmth or kindness for this visit to the Observatorium.

Of course, Kotaro was rather used to the prickly personalities of the coerthan people by now. This was hardly his first foray into the northern highlands of Aldenard.

He was already well acquainted with one lord within Coerthas Central Highlands. Lord Haurchefant of Camp Dragonhead was a gem of a man among so many common lumps of coal. He had been nothing but welcoming and kind to Kotaro since the miqo'te had set foot in his encampment, and that had been before Kotaro had unraveled the dravanian plot to frame Haurchefant's dearest childhood friend for heresy.

Francel had been grateful himself to have been prevented from leaping to his death into Witchdrop. His dedication to clearing his family name was to be commended, or at least that was what Haurchefant seemed to believe.

It was all a tangled, complicated web, if you asked Kotaro. He was only glad they hadn't arrived too late. He would have not wanted to see Haurchefant's usual cheer dimmed by the heavy grief of losing a friend.

Such was why the miqo'te set out in search of one Estinien Wyrmblood with a sense of urgency. If what Alberic said held any weight at all, the culprit was in over his head by making off with this so-called relic. The Eye? Who was in charge of naming these things?

Kotaro was already quite aggravated by the tedious run around that was hoofing it back and forth to talk to one person or several, only to ultimately be directed back to one of the first people he talked to. The life of an adventurer was not for those who lacked patience or stamina, that was for certain.

He'd much rather be payin’ visit to his friend Haurchefant, and trying to convince the man to play a bit of hooky. He worked too much, in Kotaro's opinion. The man obviously had a passion for adventure, the least Kotaro could do was offer the man a chance to cut loose and have some fun every once in a while. Course, he had to get creative and disguise it as busy work that needed doing. Like a dangerous hunt, or some such other peril that posed a threat to his encampment.

He was certain a few of the keener knights had caught wise to his shenanigans, but their affection for their lord outweighed their need to be sticklers about lordly things like paperwork and all that rot.

It was damned decent of them.

Kotaro certainly didn't have any allies in the Scions like that. There was always something needing done, and Kotaro was often the one doing the heavy lifting. There was hardly any time for mischief, let alone full-fledged fun. It made Kotaro miss his days of piracy, his fun-lovin’ crew. The things they got up to would make these sticks-in-the-mud clutch their pretty little pearls and lose their minds.

The miqo'te is damned thankful for a reason for violence. An excuse to let off some steam. Clearing the cave east of the Observatorium is just what the chirugeon ordered, and a bit of multitasking for him to do as he resumes his search for the elusive dragoon.

Where there was smoke, there was fire. No sooner had he dealt with the smallfry scavengers gathered around Estinien's fire pit, did the very elezen he was in search of leap down from the mountain top.

Kotaro wondered if being dramatic was a requirement to being recruited to the knight's dragoon or if it was simply taught to them as part of their training.

Who in the hells was he calling a coin-starved adventurer?

The man was quick to draw his weapon and brandish it at him. How very Ishgardian of him.

Coerthan hospitality was lacking all across the board in the miqo'te’s experience, all except for one man who had welcomed him with warmth and kindness since first he had stepped foot in his camp. He should really pay Haurchefant a visit after thoroughly thrashing this aggravating fellow.

The miqo'te grips his lance, his body primed to react the moment the other man makes his move. If he wanted a fight, Kotaro would gladly give it to him.

He isn't quite sure what to think as the very thing that the elezen had made off with, the so-called “Eye”, seems to resonate where it was tucked away in the dragoon's armor.

What in the seven hells was that thing? Kotaro didn't give a damn if it was reacting to him, all he cared about was finishing what he was set out to do so that he could go visit his friend once all was said and done.

Preposterous? Hah, what did he care about some random Ishgardian relic.

Kotaro bristles, catching wise to that familiar sense of superiority and condescension that seemed to cling to almost all Ishgardians like the foul smell of rotten fish.

Kotaro curls his lip.

Whatever “the Eye” actually was, this turn of events seemed to put the man off the idea of fighting him.

More than a little bit disappointing, all things considered. Kotaro was itching for something of a challenge to make this wild chocobo chase worth the time and effort he had spent tracking the other man down.

Kotaro isn't sure who had pissed in the dragoon's porridge, but the man had a chip on his shoulder the size of a bloody meteor.

Having sufficiently insulted him in just a few sentences and made the worst impression of all the Ishgardians Kotaro had met so far, Estinien offers him a few parting words and promptly leaps away.

Kotaro stares at the spot his quarry had once stood, and huffs an annoyed sigh.

He had never disliked anyone so immediately. His first impression of Aymeric had been rather bad with how the man hid behind a politician's facade, but at least he had been cordial.

“Our paths shall cross again, ye can be sure of it,” Kotaro repeats the man's parting words to him in a mocking tone, his lominsan accent coming through heavier with his aggravation.

Why had he even gotten into this mess? Kotaro began to wonder as he made the trek back to tell Alberic what had transpired. He would be more than happy to put the matter to rest, wash his hands of it and let some other schmuck take up the task of tracking Estinien's tail. Mayhap another knight dragoon?

The thought of not having to meet Estinien again cheered his mood somewhat, so of course things take a turn when he relays the news to Alberic.

Kotaro stares down at the newest soul stone in his hand, the soul of the dragon that had once belonged to Alberic, a former Azure Dragoon.

So Estinien was an Azure Dragoon, too? He certainly didn't act like the strongest and wisest of dragoon's in the miqo'te’s opinion. He was simply a rude, condescending shite head who had run from a fight.

That the eye had resonated with him should have tipped him off as a bad omen. Kotaro was getting rather tired of being special, of being chosen. How many burdens must he bear aside from his existing duties?

Katoro grips the stone in his hand, tempted to chuck it into the wind. He could claim he had dropped it, lost it in the snow. It was not too late now to walk away.

Kotaro raises his fist to do it, then sighs and lowers his arm. Tucking it away to join his other soul stone.

Ah, damn it all.

…..

….

Twice more does Kotaro pay a visit to the Observatorium after some time of honing his skills with his newest soulstone.

Kotaro had to hand it to Alberic, the man certainly had a way with words. Listening to the tale that Alberic weaved with his words of Haldrath, the Fury, and the great wyrm Nidhogg, Kotaro had to admit that the midlander had a knack for storytelling. Truly, the man should have been a bard instead of Azure Dragoon. Perhaps he could pick it up now, just as Kotaro had done with the lance?

He had signed on to be a lancer through the teachings of Ywain's guild, but never thought he would become a dragoon. Ishgardians did not seem the type willing to share knowledge with how on edge they were about outsiders. Kotaro did not want to even touch on the whole nonbeliever, heresy thing.

He had witnessed enough of it just by uncovering the plot to destroy house Haillenarte. Though it had been a dravanian in disguise doing all the scheming, what did it say about the Ishgardian people that they readily believed the lies of the false inquisitor Guillaime? That they stayed quiet in their own fear of having dispersions cast upon them, and in doing so condemned their own to death, lost to the dark and dreary depths of Witchdrop? Countless innocent people, perhaps even children. All of them fallen prey to the wicked deception of one of Nidhogg's horde.

It was utter madness.

Kotaro couldn't help but feel a mite bit insulted that Alberic suggests he was not yet strong enough to take on Estinien head to head as an equal, but he supposed it was best that he defer to the former Azure Dragoon's judgment. He was his new teacher, after all.

He did not know what sorts of training that dragoons got up to, but if Estinien was second to none since the days of Haldrath, perhaps it would not be foolish to focus on his own training a bit more seriously. The title of “Azure Dragoon” seemed entirely based upon skill, merit, and if that revolting little relic that the Ishgardians called “the Eye” recognized you.

The third part was rather ridiculous in Kotaro’s opinion. If the dragon had been their enemy, why would they need its acknowledgment to choose the next dragoon?

The miqo'te was morbidly curious, too, just how the relic had been preserved for so long. It stood to reason that something that was once attached to a living thing would most assuredly rot, given time. Was it squishy? Smelly? It made his fur prickle with disgust. Kotaro could only assume that the eyes of a dragon were different and leave it at that for his own peace of mind.

How grim to use the very place that their own people were disposed of when accused of heresy, to train in the ways of a dragoon to protect the lives of the innocent.

Kotaro is bade to travel to Witchdrop by Alberic twice for more training. Both times does he meet a new face, first a man by the name of Brucemont, and then a woman called Heustienne. Estinien's peers, and now perhaps to be his own, fellow wielders of the lance who had taken up the training of dragoon.

The story Alberic shares of the past lingers in Kotaro’s thoughts. That the man was not merely Estinien's teacher, but his adoptive father was rather eye opening. The pieces of the puzzle that made up Estinien were slowly coming together, though his sympathy for the elezen’s loss in no way softened his instant dislike of the man.

Perhaps it was the eye itself that was influencing the man. Kotaro had seen for himself the many such ways that the minds of men could be warped by powers beyond their control. Look no further than the pitiful existence of the people who became thralls to primals.

At least with the Eye, it seemed Estinien was still himself so long as he possessed the will to resist its power.

….

Kotaro meets Estinien face to face once again with Alberic at his side.

The man seemed to have a thing for dramatics as he called for them to meet him at Boulder Downs. Alberic, being the elezen’s teacher and adoptive father, seems to know exactly where Estinien would make his appearance, leading the way to the very highest peak of the Boulder Downs. Walking them carefully up the snow covered spikes of glowing, crystallized aether to the razor’s edge. It would be a long drop, should anyone fall. Kotaro could only be grateful he was someone who did not fear heights. It would certainly make being a dragoon more difficult, perhaps entirely impossible.

Lo, does Estinien make his presence known, from the fog at the very top of the snow covered spikes of aether. Alberic knew him all too well.

Still does Estinien greet Alberic only as his master, and not as a father the elder dragoon was to him for the past twenty summers.

Kotaro only becomes more convinced that Estinien was more than a bit mad as the man tells them of his reasoning for taking the Eye, and what plans he had made to make use of it.

Perhaps in this moment—nay, perhaps for the last twenty years—has only the thought of vengeance pushed the man forward. That he had stolen the Eye to lead the great wyrm to him when he inevitably woke was practically a suicide mission. Estinien had said himself that Nidhogg had only grown stronger. How had he thought he would stand a chance against him alone?

It was clear that Estinien cared for little else except accomplishing his own goals. The fact that the azure dragoon did not even bother to ask Kotaro his name before foisting the burden of Nidhogg's defeat and the safety of Ishgard upon his shoulders.

His selfish disregard for other people in his own personal agenda had Kotaro’s hackles up, his temper flaring.

“My name is Kotaro,” the miqo'te bites out, his lominsan accent shining through thicker with his irritation. He sounds it out for him, implying he thought the other dragoon was particularly slow. “Ko-ta-ro. Not adventurer.”

Kotaro’s feline ears press flat, his teeth bared to show his clear disdain. “Since ye seem so keen on monopolizing my time without askin’ whether I care to help you or not, the least ye can do is remember that much.”

He seems to take both dragoons a bit aback with the sharpness to his tone of voice.

“Kotaro,” Alberic says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Forgive me if in my eagerness I have placed too great a burden upon your shoulders. Estinien, too, should rightly apologize for treating you as a weapon for him to use, rather than a person. That is certainly not the behavior of the boy I raised for twenty summers up till now.”

Estinien scoffs derisively at that, but makes no further comment. Merely crossing his arms with his lips pressed thin. It seemed he did not care to be criticized for his brusque and downright rude behavior, nor would he apologize for it. It was obvious that he did not give two shites about anyone else's opinion or what they thought of him.

What a prick.

Kotaro violently disliked him.

The miqo'te offers the elder dragoon a thin smile. “Never you mind, Alberic. I have no intention of shirkin’ a task given to me by my newest mentor. If this next trial is part of my trainin’ anyhow, it makes sense for me to go forward with it.” Kotaro looks pointedly at Estinien. “Alberic is my master now, too. I'll do it fer him, not because ye told me to.”

Estinien curls his lip. “It matters naught to me the reason for which you do so. Only that you survive the trial of Azure and successfully earn your right to don the drachen mail. The Eye may have roused with your potential, but it remains to be seen whether you are truly worthy for the mantle of Azure dragoon, Ko.Ta.Ro.”

The way he says the miqo'te’s name is slow and exaggerated, a mockery of Kotaro's earlier enunciation.

“Suppose we'll see, won't we?” Kotaro replies. “Good that ye pick things up fast. Try to remember my name from now on, E-stin-ien.” Two could play the condescension game.

Estinien gives a snort just loud enough to be heard over the howl of the wind that tries its damnedest to blow through them. “If your reflexes are as sharp as your tongue, perhaps you'll have some chance of survival.”

There is further talk between Estinien and Alberic, before the Azure Dragoon takes his leave as dramatically as he had arrived.

“Well,” Alberic coughs into his hand, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh to the keen ears of a miqo'te, no matter how frozen they felt. “It is good to see you two may just get along, given time.”

Mayhap it cheered his heart somewhat to see a version of his son that he recognized, rather than the man so hellbent on vengeance that he would forsake everything and everyone to see his lifelong ambition come to fruition.

Kotaro looks at him like he grew another head. “Don't count yer chocobo chicks afore they hatch, Alberic. It'll be springtime in coerthas before that happens.”

….

The trial of the Azure turns out to be many battles one after another. After each of which does Kotaro receive a piece of the drachen mail for his successful survival. He powers through them all, wanting to get through them as quickly and efficiently as possible.

His bond with the dragon deepens with every piece that he attires himself in.

With this, and more dedicated training, surely he could best Estinien should the need arise.

….

Despite Alberic’s best intentions and the hopes he had for his adoptive son, Estinien had allowed the Eye to influence him by listening to its whisperings. Perhaps it had spoken true that Alberic had relinquished his power out of fear, the Azure Dragoon unable to stop the destruction of Ferndale as a result. Yet who knew how the Eye had twisted Estinien's emotions, skewing them towards rage and violence.

Haldrath the dragonslayer had been reborn, his arse. Haldrath had not allowed the Eye to influence him, if Alberic’s retellings were to be believed. Estinien was already allowing it to whisper things into his pointy ears, to twist his feelings and skew his emotions towards darker things.

Kotaro had no choice but to step in as Estinien threatened Alberic. He could not rightly sit back and allow his new mentor to be senselessly slaughtered. Alberic would be no match for him, bereft of his power and many summers past Estinien's senior. He was near twice his age!

He did not care to hear how Estinien thought them kindred, an ally with whom they together could fight the great wyrm. That Kotaro's affection for Alberic rendered the miqo'te deaf to his own destiny.

What destiny? Kotaro had only interacted with the man two times up till now! They were veritable strangers, no matter that Alberic had shared tales with Kotaro parts of Estinien's past.

“Kindred? Ye who did not bother to learn my name?” Kotaro scoffs. “Ye know nothing of me, and I have learned more than I care to know of ye. We are not kindred, we are nothing. Not even acquaintances.”

Kotaro raises his lance up in defense of Alberic. “All we share is the same mentor, and I will not allow ye to harm him.”

Estinien continues on as if he hadn't spoken, acknowledging naught of what Kotaro had said to him. “Very well. That we would one day cross lances was inevitable from the moment of our first meeting—as we shall now find out who is the Eye’s true chosen! There can be only one!”

Kotaro did not give two shites about that thrice damned Eye! It was naught but trouble.

They clash in the middle of the round platform, trading blows that would mortally wound lesser men. Fortified by their armor and enhanced so by their unique powers of the dragon, it is naught to the two dragoon, every blow that was a mere swing of the lance was aught that merely glanced off the other man's armor.

Kotaro had to admit that the words of caution Alberic had spoken to him of Estinien's strength and abilities were not the boasting of a proud mentor and father, but that of pure and true fact.

The trials of Azure were that of child's play in comparison to the threat posed by his elezen foe. Estinien's ability was a culmination of twenty summers under the tutelage of Alberic, not to mention extensive training in the ways of the dragoon.

Kotaro was hard pressed to keep up with his learned skills by leaning heavily on his own innate abilities.

Still, Kotaro had fought his fair share of deadly opponents and come out on top. An endless slew of beast, imperials, and now even a few primals made that list.

Estinien was just a man, albeit a very capable one. So long as he could defeat him before the elezen became too lost to the great wyrm’s seduction, all would be well.

Kotaro would hate to have to put the other dragoon down, much as he greatly disliked him.

For the sake of Alberic, he does his best to prevent from wounding the dragoon too severely that he would die from it.

Estinien notices this, and it only fans the flames of his rage. “Do not hold back! I am the Eye's true chosen, and you shall know it when I bury my lance in your chest!”

Kotaro grits his teeth, jumping back to avoid the blade of Estinien's lance.

He can hear Alberic persist in trying to reason with the Azure Dragoon, though it was a useless endeavor. “Estinien, stop this madness! You and Kotaro were meant to be allies, not enemies!”

Kotaro could feel the malevolence of the aether that had already begun to corrupt the elezen. The more that Estinien relied upon the power of the Eye, the more his aether became twisted, his mind addled. His sense of self would become lost not unlike those who had been tempered by primals, inevitably made into mindless thrall.

Every attack that his foe sprung upon him was made with deadly intent. It took a great deal of focus just not to find himself gored by the business end of Estinien's lance.

Kotaro pushes himself harder, letting go of holding back. His own aether swells in response, the power of the dragon was at once similar but different. The strength of a dragon, but naught that was so seductive that it would consume his mind.

He could feel his wounds knitting together with the power, his body less heavy and his lance lighter in his hands.

Incapacitating Estinien would be the main objective, to knock some sense into him through utter defeat before he entirely lost who he truly was to the influence of the great wyrm’s wicked curse.

If he maimed him in the process, so what? Estinien would still be alive, he would still have autonomy.

Perhaps, up till now, Estinien had been without equal, but no longer.

Kotaro presses the advantage, steadily overpowering the dragoon. It makes Estinien desperate, crazed.

He sounds like the very heretic that Ishgardians claim to despise. “Power! I must have more power! O, Lord of Dragons, grant me strength to raze thine enemies!”

A dark ominous shadow blocks out the light, and Kotaro lunges back just in time to avoid a ball of flame as it falls where he once stood, the snow becoming a haze of steam and the stone below scorched black. It was

“Estinien!” Alberic cries, aghast. “Surrender not to the beast within! Have you forgotten the vows you swore?”

It matters naught what Estinien might have said in response, because Kotaro attacks the dragoon with a flurry of strikes that overwhelm the Elezen, ending with a brute, forceful swing that knocks the elezen to his knees. Flopping over onto his back, dizzy and defeated.

Kotaro levels his lance at the dragoon's prone form, not trusting that the elezen would stay down in his frenzied state.

Alberic runs to his side, the both of them walking cautiously forth to where Estinien was crumpled on his knees, his body heaving with every gasp.

A voice spoke, then. The beguiling words of the very wyrm that Estinien had dedicated his life to defeating. The great and terrible dragon lord that now held Estinien helpless in his snare.

Feeble creature… Dost thou desire power? Look to thine anger and thy hatred… it is there that thou shalt find it…

“O mighty Nidhogg! Lord of Dragons!” Estinien gasps in a voice of reverence for the very beast he had so despised. Raising shakily to his feet to reach towards the sky in a worshipful plea, “Grant unto me thy blood, that I might be granted the claws and fangs wherewith to rend thine enemies!”

A cloud of malevolent aether swirls overhead, answer to his pitiful prayers. It descends down upon the dragoon, enveloping him in its wretched light.

At the very same time, Kotaro feels a power, a presence rise to the surface to offer him aid. Aught that opposed the terrible darkness in a surge of bright, brilliant light.

Alberic will tell him of it later, how Kotaro had appeared to be possessed by the spirit of Haldrath the Dragonslayer, as depicted in the holy scriptures. The dragoon of legend brought forth to put a stop to Nidhogg's reign of terror before it could again start the cycle anew.

It ends with one blow, and a blinding clash of aether. When the dust settles, Estinien is gone.

Kotaro feels sympathy for his mentor, who expresses regret at having failed his adoptive son yet again.

Kotaro is only glad to wrap everything up. Much as he would have liked to go see Haurchefant after everything, he would rather not linger in coerthas for much longer now. He should like very much not to return here for a while yet.

Of course, barely a week passes by before Kotaro is forced to return to Coerthas on Scion business, to offer aid to Ishgard against Nidhogg's horde. The gods must surely have a sense of humor, as Ser Aymeric introduces Estinien during one of their meetings.

Despite how they had last left things, Estinien looked quite well.

Kotaro did not doubt that no one knew except for himself and Alberic of Estinien succumbing to Nidhogg's seduction.

The strangest thing of all, however, is that Estinien is not a pariah for stealing the Eye. Had Alberic truly covered it all up to spare Estinien? Or was it merely that Estinien's abilities were so valuable to a city at war with dragons for nigh a thousand years that they were willing to overlook one small transgression in the grand scheme of things?

It was utterly baffling.

Kotaro’s head aches trying to wrap his mind around the reasoning of Ishgardians, and so he brushes it all aside to focus on the more pressing matter at hand.

Fighting Nidhogg's horde.

….

Being forced to seek political refuge in Coerthas after the bloody banquet of Ul’dah was one terrible thing of the many that Kotaro experienced ever since joining the Scions.

Becoming tangled up, and ultimately deeply embroiled in Ishgardian affairs was another. He consoled himself with the reasoning that it is the least he can do for his sworn brother Haurchefant, and that of House Fortemps who had sheltered him from the fallout of the false accusations that had been leveled against him and his fellow Scions.

Estinien joining himself and Alphinaud in their attempt to parley with the dravanians, in the hope to achieve some matter of diplomacy between Ishgard and the dragons struck Kotaro as a terrible, awful idea. It filled the miqo'te with extreme displeasure.

What was worse, Ysayle soon joined their party of unlikely allies; and the two older elezen wasted no time in beginning their endless bickering over every little thing. It seemed they could find no common ground on their differences of opinion.

Alphinaud was in a state of constant fretting, watching two of his companions so at odds. Kotaro chose to stay out of it the best he could. He had enough on his plate without getting dragged into their petty squabbling, no matter how Alphinaud looked to him to intervene. This was not part of his job description.

It was a small mercy that Estinien mostly kept out of his fur. There was still a lingering awkwardness and tension between them even though they had interacted a few times after Estinien had almost succumbed to the Eye's influence. Perhaps Estinien's pride was a bit stung by being beaten by a dragoon who not only had picked up the lance not more than a few moons hence, but was also chosen by the Eye as a second Azure Dragoon of this age.

Whatever it was, Kotaro did not particularly care. There was much to do without worrying about the inner workings of an elezen he was quite sure he would never come to like. Endless tasks laid out before him, and Kotaro wanted nothing more than to finish it all quickly so that he could keep the company of people he actually enjoyed spending time with.

Estinien mostly kept out of his way, except for when he didn't.

The miqo'te can recall stepping between Estinien and Alphinaud at one point, his palm nudging slightly at the dragoon's drachen mail so that he would step back.

Estinien had swatted his hand away. “Watch yourself, Warrior of Light.”

Kotaro had turned on him, hackles raised. Itching for a fight, and glad to start one. “Ye watch yerself, Azure Dragoon.”

Kotaro can hardly remember what it was that had set him off. It had been a small ember of irritation, fanned slowly into true anger by small inconveniences throughout the day.

“Do we have a problem, warrior?” Estinien had groused in response, instantly on edge.

“Ye bet we do,” Kotaro growled back. “Ye just invited yerself along on this little trip, after I was already sick o’ the sight of yer face.”

Estinien rolled his neck, beckoning to him. “Come at me, then. Let us settle this like men. Lest you desire our petty differences ruin your pitiful attempt at parley with the dragons?”

“Who asked you?” Kotaro hissed, and took up the invitation to fight him with relish.

Before he knew it, they were wrestling across the grass like a pair of temperamental teens with no self control.

Alphinaud and Ysayle had been forced to pull them apart before it got too serious.

Their interactions had crumbled from there, childish and petty, where before it had been at least somewhat civilized.

They laughed at each other's small inconveniences: Kotaro when Estinien got stuck in a mud hole just below his knee that was most definitely full of something other than just mud, Estinien when Kotaro slipped on a slimy rock when cutting across the river and found himself caught in the river’s current, rolling arse over tit down a small waterfall. Soaked to the skin in moments.

They tripped one another, shoved one another, and found themselves wrestling several more times like two siblings in desperate need of getting their aggression out, until it came down to Ysayle declaring that they were both “in time out until they could start acting like the grown men they were, and less like children with a grudge.”

What was worse, Alphinaud agreed. Even declaring that they were worse than the petty squabbles between himself and his sister, Alisaie.

That cowed the two men like nothing else.

It had felt far too satisfying to blow off steam in that manner, but perhaps they had gotten a bit carried away with it…

This was still a diplomatic mission, not a weekend of roughhousing for the boys.

What was shocking was Estinien actually listening to the woman’s words, instead of stomping off in a huff like Kotaro expected he would do.

They did not apologize, but their behavior did improve. Both men resolved to put aside their differences to better focus upon the task at hand. Especially after it is discovered that there was yet another primal here, one that would be left up to Kotaro to deal with yet again.

Estinien was particularly stiff after that. He seemed ill pleased at the cropping up of a primal.

What was his problem?

He didn't have to fight it.

Much to the hero's surprise, a turning point eventually came about because of it.

Just before heading out to his inevitable fight with Ravana, Kotaro was taken aback as Estinien spoke up on his behalf, scolding Alphinaud for using the hero as a trump card; a weapon for vanquishing every primal that cropped up. Kotaro was stunned speechless, by now well used to being the sacrificial lamb, so to speak. He always hit the ground running, thinking on his feet. Adapting to whatever was thrown at him, because it truly was life or death. He had been fortunate up till that his instincts proved enough to get him through, no matter if they had any prior knowledge of the primal he was to face.

“And you, Warrior of Light…”

Kotaro was further startled as Estinien turned that intensity onto him. The dragoon closing the distance between them in two strides and raising his hand up to flick the hero in the forehead.

Hard.

“Ow!”

Kotaro’s fur prickles with agitation and shock. What was that for??

Before he could give voice to his complaint, Estinien tells him. “That is for going along with this nonsense and rushing forward blindly with no concern for your health. Should master Alphinaud bid you jump, do you say how high?”

Kotaro gapes at him, caught by surprise at the vehemence with which the other dragoon spoke.

Estinien was not finished, continuing on with obvious indignation, “Are the Scions of the Seventh Dawn not an organization best equipped for dealing with primals? Going in without a plan is the surest way to get yourself killed. Perhaps your Scions think it worth the risk, but you should realize by now that your life is worth more than being fodder for the next beast that rears its ugly head. To strike before you know the level of threat is to make enemies, always. Perhaps it is best you make use of the oft neglected brain in that head of yours, and actually think before you act.”

With that, the dragoon turned on his heel and walked off.

Kotaro stood there, rubbing his stinging forehead. He had mixed feelings about being scolded like this by Estinien of all people…

Yet it was plain that by the elezen’s actions that Estinien now valued him as an ally, and the dragoon was not one to put his allies in unnecessary danger, no matter the circumstances.

From that moment onward and for the rest of their journey together, Kotaro paid the dragoon a bit more attention, and his perception of the man slowly began to shift.

Estinien was not one to mince words, or to express himself in obvious displays of emotion outside of confidence or anger, but his actions spoke for themselves. The man was not above showing care for his allies. He taught Alphinaud how to gather firewood, and kept a lookout for dragons while the young lordling did so. He took the night watch without complaint when Kotaro was too exhausted, dead tired on his feet. Even small things, such as asking Kotaro if he were well whenever an echo vision came with the side effect of a splitting headache. Hells, he even expressed sympathy and concern for Ysayle.

It all began to add up, painting a portrait of what sort of man Estinien truly was. One that Kotaro did not mind too terribly to keep company with. He was not so bad, after all.

Stuck together as they were, Kotaro had begun to build a rapport with the man. There was something of a bond forming between them, a connection of the soul unique to them as two dragoons who had awakened the dragon within. Aught that would only continue to grow as their friendship deepened.

That was not to say that they didn't still occasionally tussle. The difference was that they did so now in a more friendly manner, rather than out of mutual dislike.

It only irked the hero that Estinien still refused to call him by name normally, only calling him by titles such as “Warrior of Light” or his “fellow azure dragoon”. He only used his name when being sarcastic, or playfully mocking. Sounding the syllables out the same as the very first time that Kotaro had demanded he used his name, “Ko-ta-ro.”

He was still somewhat of a prick.

….

The Vault… happens.

Haurchefant.

Haurchefant is…

Gone.

Kotaro is devastated. Overcome with grief. Haurchefant is… was… his closest ally, his sworn brother since taking refuge in Ishgard.

He stares with eyes unseeing at the face of his friend, that limp hand still clutched desperately in the grasp of his palms. Every moment of their friendship plays out like an echo vision in his head until heavy tears dripped endlessly from the corners of his unblinking eyes.

His heart hurt. He was in such agony, he could not think rationally. He wanted this moment to not have happened. His one desperate wish to have his friend stir awake and smile at him again, tell him that he need not fret, that all would be well.

Kotaro attempts the unthinkable, lost in this state of agonizing turmoil. Focusing all his aether into this singular concept with that one wish held unwavering in his heart.

It is not to be.

He is torn away, the swell of his aether interrupted, broken before that terrible concept could be made into an awful reality.

A familiar resonance wakes him from the wallow his grief, the budding bond of brotherhood that had only just begun to grow between himself and Estinien.

For the first time, he sees Estinien's face in full. Understanding writ across his face, the truth plain in the blue grey of his eyes as he squeezes Kotaro's shoulders and says in a soft, grave voice. “Kotaro, he is gone.”

Kotaro chokes on a sob, shaking his head. “No, no. No, he was my… He was my brother, Estinien. I have to…!”

“There is nothing more you can do,” Estinien says quietly.

Kotaro does not resist as he pulls him to his feet, the dragoon leading the way to the highest roof in Ishgard. A quiet place for just the two of them.

Estinien is a quiet, comforting presence as by his side Kotaro looks up at the stars and allows himself to cry. Mourning the loss of his sworn brother.

Wondering if maybe, possibly, he and Estinien could be friends, just as Alberic predicted.

Kotaro cannot even begin to sort through his feelings—of losing Haurchefant, or the potential of having a true friend in Estinien—before there is more he must do.

To Azys Lla they must go.

Aboard the airship, Kotaro can only watch as Ysayle sacrifices herself to protect them.

Thordan falls, along with his knights twelve. It won't bring Haurchefant back, but there was some satisfaction in avenging his friend.

Then, with both of Nidhogg's eyes in hand, Estinien succumbs to the influence of the great wyrm again.

There is no stopping it this time around.

One moment, that was all it took. A single moment of weakness—the shield broke, Ysayle free falling through the air, Estinien…

How many more friends did he have to lose?

No.

No more.

Kotaro had only just begun to get to know Estinien, to see the potential of a true and meaningful friendship between them. This was not the same as when he had just met him, and only saved him to spare Alberic the pain and Ishgard the certain destruction he would wrought.

Alberic... Kotaro would have to tell him it had happened again.

Things move forward, and Kotaro is once again swept up in Ishgardian politics. Only this time he is caught in-between as the middleman. The hero of Ishgard and friend to Ysayle—and so by association and through his efforts to aid them, a friend to the dragons of Anyx Trine.

It is no small matter to achieve a truce between dragon and man for a war that has waged nigh a thousand years. There are many people opposed to it, so many who have lost loved ones. It is never easy to bring about change, no matter how good the intentions behind it.

Kotaro watches as Ser Aymeric does his best, despite having it all thrust upon him.

It is made more difficult when the Azure Dragoon, possessed by Nidhogg, attempts to slay Vidofnir in the middle of unveiling the symbol of the treaty between dragon and man.

It was hard to watch, but Kotaro could not look away as Aymeric was forced to take up arms against his friend to save Vidofnir’s life. The arrow he loosed towards his friend's heart swallowed by the malevolent aether of the great and terrible wyrm.

It is Nidhogg who speaks, using Estinien as a puppet. The grotesque display of his eyes fused to Estinien's drachen mail, stained red with the wyrm's own blood.

Kotaro cannot tear his eyes away even as he hears Alphinaud curse, his gaze glued to the dragoon as that wretched aether envelops him, consumes him. Transforming him from the man he was, and taking the shape of the dragon lord Nidhogg.

The great wyrm's attempt to squash their hope does the opposite. It only strengthens Kotaro’s resolve. There is no trial he would not face to see Nidhogg’s end, and so they set out to seek the assistance of Nidhogg's brood brother, Hraesvelgr.

Hraesvelgr only agrees should they succeed in besting the trials he lays out for them. And so, with a little company, Kotaro does what he does best.

Despite all that, Hraesvelgr is no match for Nidhogg’s rage. Entrusted with the strength of the dragon's golden eye, Kotaro knows this is his best chance to challenge Nidhogg and save Estinien from the wyrm's terrible grasp.

They defeat Nidhogg.

His aether spent, the wyrm reverts back to his host’s true, elezen form.

Estinien wrests control, dropping his lance before the wyrm can make another attempt to harm them, grasping his own throat in a stranglehold.

Kotaro and Alphinaud rush towards him, ignoring his plea to put an end to him whilst he held the wyrm at bay.

Nidhogg put up too great a resistance as they try with all their might to pry free the dragon eyes fused to Estinien's bloodstained armor.

Yet they are not alone. Kotaro feels him before he sees him, a familiar presence of warmth and kindness.

The spirit of Haurchefant, his sworn brother, smiles down on him. A hand that helped him even now. A knight who had come just when he was most needed.

Kotaro musters up a smile even as tears brim over his eyelashes, suffused with warmth and the strength needed to rescue the dragoon from his own stubborn insistence that he was beyond saving.

With a bright burst of light, the eyes pry free, and in an adrenaline fueled burst of panic, Kotaro listens to Aymeric as the lord instructs them to chuck them into the abyss.

Would they really disappear like that? Kotaro had a bad feeling they'd somehow show up again, like a bad pair o’ coin gil. Nothing but trouble, those things.

Kotaro stumbles, bereft of all his strength. Finding himself leaning on Alphinaud as Aymeric scoops Estinien up into his arms as if the dragoon weren't wearing a full suit of drachen mail.

He glances over his shoulder, swearing he could see the spirits of Haurchefant and Ysayle standing behind them. Lingering a few moments longer, watching them go.

…Thank ye, brother.

Haurchefant smiles, and rests his hand over his heart.

Ysayle raises her hand in a wave.

Kotaro blinks, and they are gone.

…..

Kotaro’s ears press flat to his head, listening to the sound of Alphinaud crying from where he stood out in the hall of the infirmary. He had wanted to give the boy a moment alone with the man, seeing as the younger elezen seemed to look up to Estinien as something of an older brother.

“Cease your mewling, boy.”

Kotaro's ears perk to attention as Estinien speaks. The miqo'te gives them some time to talk to one another before he ducks through the door, trading off with Alphinaud to give the young man some time to recapture his composure.

“Ye look quite well fer a dead man,” Kotaro says, feeling a mix of relief and irritation at the sight of Estinien looking so damn serene.

No more was there a heavy burden weighing down his shoulders.

He was relaxed.

“You are the one stubbornly complicating a simple thing. You never could strike me down,” Estinien replies.

Kotaro crosses his arms. “Ye should know me better by now, after everythin’ we've been through.”

Estinien actually chuckles. So weird.

“Yes, I know. You were never one to leave a friend behind, no matter the circumstances.”

Kotaro arches a brow. “Ye think we're friends?”

Estinien matches his expression. “You think we aren't, after all that?”

Kotaro levels him with a look. “Say my name, should ye know it, if yer thinkin’ we're chums now.”

Estinien hums, his expression mocking. “Name? Do you truly have one of those? I thought everyone called you the Warrior of Light.”

Kotaro narrows his eyes. “Estinien.”

Estinien smiles. Chuckling in his throat. “Nay, that is my name. Not yours. I suppose now I shall simply call you the one and only Azure Dragoon, Ko-ta-ro.”

He really knew how to ruffle his fur.

He was still a prick, even now.

Kotaro shook his head and sighed, feline ears perked and tail swaying with curiosity. “Yer leavin’ it behind, just like that?”

Estinien looked more content than Kotaro had ever seen him. Downright serene. Entirely relieved of the burden he had bore for twenty summers since Ferndale had burned.

“I have no need of such burdensome titles anymore. I leave it to you now to carry the mantle. There is no other quite as worthy.”

Kotaro could sigh at such talk. As if he needed more titles added to his record. It was far better to share the moniker with Estinien. It was less burdensome that way.

“Then, as my first action of the sole Azure Dragoon,” the miqo'te lifts his hand up and flicks the elezen in the forehead. Feeling a smug sense of satisfaction as the elezen twitches with the sting, his eyebrows scrunching together as his face twisted up.

“It is my responsibility to reprimand my fellow dragoon for bein’ a reckless fool, is it not? I worked so hard to save ye, and yet ye would have cast aside all that work! For what? To kill the wyrm that was already on his last legs? He was already beaten.”

Estinien huffs, rubbing the spot where the hero's fingernails had made contact.

“Suppose I deserve that much,” he remarks with a rueful quirk of his lips.

Kotaro nods. “That much and more, but it is not my habit to tussle with the infirm. I might put back yer healing a few more moons if I did that.”

Estinien grumbles. “Oi. I could take you on here and now, Warrior of Light. I owe you a rematch where I am in my right mind, after all. That first duel hardly counted.”

Could it count as a duel when Estinien had clearly come at him with murderous intentions?

The miqo'te grins to himself. “Ye can barely sit up in bed as ye are now, but I look forward to the day when ye come to challenge me again. The look on yer face will be right satisfyin’ when I knock ye on yer arse again.”

Estinien scoffs. “You talk big for a man of your diminutive stature.”

Kotaro bristles. “As if yer tall for an elezen! I am a perfectly respectable height for a miqo'te.”

Estinien grins, clearly pleased to see him ruffled.

The miqo'te took a calming breath, waving his hand flippantly. He supposed he could let him have the win, the other man being bedridden and all. There would be plenty of time to get his own back now that Estinien was himself again.

Kotaro had more to say, but at that moment Aymeric arrived.

He gives the two elezen a moment, knowing they were friends.

Wondering if he should call Estinien friend, too. Estinien seemed to be of the opinion that they were.

Well, he supposed they could talk later. Trusted that Estinien could do as the chirugeons ordered, and give himself the rest he sorely needed.

….

They never did have that talk.

Estinien had snuck out of the infirmary, leaving Ishgard entirely.

Kotaro knew he was still around. He could feel him close by on several occasions through the tenuous link they still shared as azure dragoon. Estinien could leave his title behind, but he was still the only dragoon on Kotaro's level. There would be no other to take his place.

Estinien could thank Aymeric for the task of having to chase down Nidhogg's eyes, though Kotaro supposed some of the blame could be placed on himself and Alphinaud for flinging them into the abyss in a moment of pure adrenaline instead of seeing them properly destroyed.

They do not meet again during Kotaro's time in Ala Mhigo, nor in his time in the East. Though the miqo'te could feel through their bond the elezen's feelings of concern for him, along with fond exasperation.

It is Estinien who comes to his side in the Ghimlyt Dark as the world fades around him, the very same affliction that had affected all the other Scions.

He fears he will truly fall to the swing of Zenos' blade, to the ascian that wore the prince of Garlemald’s body like an ill-fitting suit of armor.

The resonance of their dragon souls is all the comfort he needs to succumb to the dark as Estinien snatches him from the jaws of death and carries him away to safety.

Then and there, as his consciousness slipped away, Kotaro decided that he needed to toast with Estinien when he got the chance.

Brothership with Haurchefant had come naturally, easily.

With Estinien, it had not been so. With him, it had been a long and hard road fraught with difficulty and less than favorable impressions.

Though it had taken them time and endless struggles to come this far, there was no denying it. This was more than mere friendship.

They had stood by each other at their worst, saved one another from death, and they were still here. Together.

Estinien would be his brother, no matter what.

…..

The time came much later when they were finally in the same room again, both of them returned to the Rising Stones. Estinien come to give report on his mission about what transpired in Garlemald, and Kotaro returning from his most recent quest.

He suspected it had not been a coincidence, their meeting like this. Estinien was intentionally lingering, leaning against the wall in wait of him when Kotaro passes him by.

“Estinien!” Kotaro brightens up at the sight of him. “If yer not too busy, do ye have time fer a drink with me?”

Estinien straightens up, his face softening into a slight smile. “I suppose I could be convinced, provided that you have spirits worth sampling. I expect nothing less from a former pirate.”

“Aye. That is, if ye think yer Ishgardian constitution can hold up against the drink of a pirate. ‘Tis hardly the watered down ale served in Ishgardian taverns,” Kotaro laughs, taking him by the arm and leading him to his room.

“Gibrillont might cry to hear that the Warrior of Light thinks his ale is substandard,” Estinien chuckles, glancing around the room that Kotaro had made his own with personal touches. It was his first time being invited in.

Kotaro was making himself busy setting up a low table.

Estinien, in the meantime, perused the bottles lining his shelves. It was obvious that Kotaro had a taste for quality spirits.

“What are we drinking?” Estinien asks, stepping to the side as the miqo'te comes up behind him.

“Bacchus wine,” Kotaro replies, plucking a bottle from the shelf and settling in at the table where he had already set up the cups for them.

The cork pops and the wine flows, given time to breathe a bit before the two men raise their cups to toast.

“Oh? To what are we toasting, for a wine so famous that even I have heard of it?” Estinien asks as his glass is slid across the table towards him.

“What say ye to toastin’ to our friendship?” Kotaro proposes, lifting up his glass. “That is to say… I'd like for us to be sworn brothers, Estinien.”

Estinien seems surprised. His blue grey eyes are wide, his fingers loose around the glass he has not yet lifted from the table. “...Sworn brothers. Truly?”

Kotaro nods. “Aye.”

Estinien’s posture loosens, his expression soft. “It would be my honor, aibou. Your friendship has been a gift. To be your brother… It is more than I deserve, after how I treated you in the beginning.”

Kotaro laughs a bit. “Aye, ‘tis true I thought ye to be a right prick in the beginnin’, but ye are a different man now, Estinien. I do not ask this of that man who was so consumed with the goal of vengeance that he believed the wicked words of a wretched wyrm over that of his own adoptive father who raised him with care for twenty summers. I ask this of the man who gave Alphinaud a dressin’ down for sending me to take down Ravana, the one who stayed close by in case he was needed even though he had given up heroic titles such as Azure Dragoon. I ask this of the man who saved me from certain death. I ask this of the man who stayed by my side and was a comfort to me even in quiet as I mourned the loss of Haurchefant. Ye have more than proven yerself through yer words and deeds, Estinien. Ye are more than deservin’. Verily, I could ask fer no finer a brother as ye. So, will ye accept, and become my sworn brother?”

Estinien’s eyes had taken on a shiny sheen while listening to Kotaro's speech. “Well..” His voice croaks a bit with emotion as he tries to speak. With a forceful, manly cough he tries again. “Well, far be it from me to refuse with such a convincing argument. If you would accept me for all that I am, I should be most glad to be your brother, Kotaro.”

Kotaro grins, his feline ears twitching as tail swaying happily, utterly beside himself with joy.

He raises his hand, extending his glass towards the elezen. “To brotherhood!”

Estinien meets him in the middle, smiling. Their glasses clinked together. That small clacking of glass sounding off a new bond of closeness between them.

“Aye, to brotherhood.”

They drink together, swapping stories of themselves in a relaxed setting they had not been afforded in some time.

The hours quietly while away with no pressing matters to attend to.

It is a warmth and comfort that Kotaro had sorely craved for some time. A feeling of belonging, of family.

He was certain that Haurchefant was smiling down upon them, too.

….

The next adventure is one that Kotaro looks forward to, one where Estinien was by his side.

Exploring new places, meeting new people. Enduring new struggles.

All of it was made better by having his brother beside him. Kotaro only wished that Haurchefant could have been here, too.

To share in the fun, the laughter, exploring the map of the world.

From Sharlayan, to Thavnair, then traveling to Garlemald and beyond.

Darkness soon dampens the brightness of this adventure like ink spilling across parchment. The hardships and horror, Kotaro endures too.

Estinien is beside him through it all.

Until he isn't.

Grief is a feeling that Kotaro had not wanted to revisit. How thick it clings, stifling all joy, every step weighed down with heavy, heart wrenching emotion.

One after the other do his friends make the difficult choice. To give the others a fighting chance.

Kotaro wanted to sink to his knees then, to give into that swallowing darkness and sob his heart out. But he could not. He couldn't give into despair. To do so would be to squander the chance his friends and his brother had given him.

Kotaro presses on.

At the end, it is only him. Walking alone.

The hopes and dreams of their world resting upon his shoulders. All their lives, the very universe hanging in the balance.

Hope is what gets him through.

This could not be the end.

There was still so much life to live.

He could not let them down.

It feels like a blur, a blink.

It all happens so fast.

Kotaro can only feel relief as he comes back to himself, surrounded by his friends.

He doesn't remember what he says when he stirs awake, but Estinien was there beside him. Laughing at him.

Kotaro smiles, closing his eyes in relief.

For now, his duty was complete, so he lets himself rest a while longer.

Saving the world was exhausting.

…..

Kotaro gives a nice, feline stretch as a yawn cracks his jaw. He scratches at his chest, tail shivering and feline ears perked as he gazes at the bright blue, cloudless sky.

It was another beautiful day, if he did say so himself.

Kotaro isn't quite sure what he thought the other side of saving the world—nay, the entire universe?—would be like, but he supposed it was just… business as usual.

The work of an adventurer was never done, and Eorzea didn't put a pause on its daily peril just because the Warrior of Light desperately needed a holiday.

The world waited for no man, hero or no.

There were lulls between said peril, thankfully, and Estinien had taken to the task of the hero's chosen adventuring companion with gusto.

“Aibou!” The dragoon calls out to him with brotherly affection, striding over with a bounce in his step as soon as he spots him.

“Go treasure hunting with me?” Estinien asks with an eager grin, showing the miqo'te the map in his hands.

Kotaro perks up, looking over the map with the intrigue of a former pirate and the joy of an adventurer. He nods his head, pleased with the invitation.

“Ye know ye had me at treasure!”

Estinien chuckles, folding up the map and leading the way.

Kotaro stands still for a moment more, watching the dragoon's back as the elezen forged ahead towards their next adventure.

He had not thought he'd ever find a brother again, not after Haurchefant.

Estinien was different in every way, of course, but here he was beside him.

A brother as near and dear to his heart as Haurchefant had been.

Kotaro glances up at the sky, smiling.

A shadow falls over him, blocking out the bright light of the sun.

Kotaro jolts as he feels a familiar flick against his forehead.

He slaps his palm against the stinging spot. “Ow! What was that for?”

Estinien grins down at him. That familiar feeling of fond exasperation shining through their shared dragon soul bond. “Are you coming or not, aibou? Or should I take this hesitation as you forfeiting your share of the treasure?”

That said, Estinien bounds away with a burst of dragoon power. Laughing out as Kotaro swipes out at him a second too slow. “Very well, I accept!”

Kotaro stumbles forward, racing to catch up. “Hah, ye wish! Wait fer me, Estinien!”

A new adventure awaited, and Kotaro was looking forward to meeting it head on.