#si!leviathan

tagging @angelrider13  @phoenixwithahoardoflibraries

Rain, in Galahd, was always welcome. Was seen as a mark of Ramuh’s presence - Ramuh, the patron of the islands, the Old Man of Galahd. Ramuh, who held the lightning in one fist and the thunder in the other; Ramuh, who was the Storm. Ramuh, who walked among his people, who shared their griefs and hardships, their joys and celebrations. 

It was raining, in Insomnia. That was scant comfort. But at least Ramuh was there. 

It was always good to have one’s kin at a funeral. 

Five. Five members of the Kingsglaive, five galahdians with beads in their hair and the memory of the islands echoing in their dreams. Five members of the King’s Military who had been given full honors for their ‘valor and their sacrifice’.  Five empty chairs, five vacant lockers, five spots to be filled - five sacrifices to the meat grinder of war. 

(At least they’d been given back the bodies for the pyre. At least their kin hadn’t been locked in cold earth and rock - at least they’d been able to give their comrades that much.)

Rain, in Insomnia, was always welcome. Although now, it tasted suspiciously of salt. 

(Rain was a mark of the Fulgarian, yes, but to those who remembered the sight of storms howling across the sea, of rain lashing the waves to merge seamlessly with the rising swell - the Fulgarian was the Storm, but the Hyrdrean was the Sea, was water in all its sundered forms). 

“Must I accept the barren Gift? -learn death, and lose my Mastery? Then let them know whose blood and breath will take the Gift and set them free: whose is the voice and whose the mind to set at naught the well-sung Game- when finned Finality arrives and calls me by my secret Name.”

The song was plaintive, set in a minor key, but it wove through the pounding rain and made it a part of the melody. 

Thalassa was there at the edge of the crowd, hair plastered to her back, eyes far too old with the heavy weight of memories and regret as they shone like pale gold in her wet face. And her voice rose again in aching harmony as she slid into the next stanza.

“Not old enough to love as yet, but old enough to die, indeed- -the death-fear bites my throat and heart, fanged cousin to the Pale One's breed.”

And then her voice shifted. It was sad, yes - but it waved the sadness like the banner. It was a sadness that bared its teeth at a universe that had done all it could - but you were still alive. 

...remember that Sweat Tears or the Sea AU ‘verse where Thalassa married Regis and then - basically ended up revealing herself as Leviathan and fighting Bahamut on live TV?

Well.

I just - had the mental image of Thalassa staring at Bahamut and laughing. 

“My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great.”

Just some more thoughts about the SI!Leviathan ‘verse, specifically the Seabourne ‘verse. Because - well. A few months ago (literally) one of your reblogs re: the chocobo et al’s Life-Changing Field Trip incorporated their attempts to understand what it meant to be an Astral’s Chosen (and Nyx being just flat-out incredulous about how the mainlanders didn’t know this). And that’s - been rustling around my brain ever since, on and off.

“The Chosen of an Astral is, at the most basic level, an individual entrusted with the power of their patron, to use as they will with the Astral’s knowing assent and permission.” Nyx is suddenly, incredibly glad that the Mother is the one answering - he hadn’t been able to conceive of a satisfactory response when the little Prince (little King now, he’ll have to remember) had asked him that very same question.

Not to mention that he’s also pretty interested in just how she’s going to respond to this.

“In some Chosen, this manifests as magic or other abilities that closely mimic or are otherwise drawn from their patron.” Leviathan continues. “These individuals share a magical and metaphysical bond with their patron Astral.” The Tidemother has adopted her oldest form now - the world-serpent, the sea-dragon of legend and myth, who nows coils peacefully in the waters of a relatively calm bay, moonlight glimmering in her eyes. “They can call upon us at need, though we may choose not to respond; they speak, and we will hear. They carry our covenant within them, our mark upon their souls.” Leviathan sighs, and the waters ripple meditatively with her mood.

“The relationship between Chosen and Astral varies.” The Tidemother says quietly. “I see my Chosen as my son - my Tide-son, my child of sweeping sands and salt shores. My Storm-brother treats his Chosen as his beloved grandchildren. And my Stone-brother views his as a close friend.” Translucent eyelids sweep across her gaze. 

“But the sword-master and the killing cold do not ask.” Water frothed, the waves peaking higher as Leviathan’s wrath stirred. “The glacian has laid claim to the line of the Oracle since time immemorial, little moon, but it is a terribly one-sided thing - it is a claim in truth, a mark for those who have eyes, but I rather doubt that she has shared power with you. Once - once, I believe, you asked, and she rose against the Empire for you - only to be shattered on the naked stone of Ghorovas Rift. But you, little King - “ Those bright, infuriated eyes swiveled once again, fixing firmly on the one hundred and fourteenth King of Lucis.

How dare you make me think of Ardyn listening to this promise and /knowing/ that Thalassa has waited /ages/ for her soulmates, waited longer than he’s been /alive/, and is willing to put them aside. For him. How dare you make me think of Ardyn resolving to like them before he even meets them just to make Thalassa happy. How dare you make me think of Ardyn stopping by Insomnia, of meeting Regis and Aulea, of /liking/ them, genuinely. (2) 

How dare you make me think of Ardyn running into Cor and/or Nyx during this visit and the Song that had been silent for so /long/ suddenly flaring to life -  a soft hum that slowly grows into a full symphony. How dare you make me think of Ardyn collapsing into Thalassa, crying, because he thought this was something he /lost/, something that was taken from him so long ago, something he never expected to get back. (3)    

How dare you make me think of Thalassa returning from one of her wanderings to learn Aulea is pregnant. How dare you make me think of Thalassa being happy over the baby, but also nervous b/c she /knows/ whats coming, b/c she can see the way Bahamuts presence lingers. How dare you make me think of Regis and Aulea noticing that Thalassa is nervous in a way that boarders in /angry/ but tries to hide it from them. How dare you make me think of Thalassa /demanding/ a water birth for Aulea. (4) 

How dare you make me think of Thalassa holding Noctis for the first time, of the three of them cooing over their small child. How dare you make me think of Ardyn holding bby!Noct and Thalassa looking at both of them, her children that Bahamut has hurt and plans to hurt, and quietly preparing to go to war. How very dare you. (5/5)         

@angelrider13 @phoenixwithahoardoflibraries

I AM THE ENABLER. THERE IS LITTLE I DO NOT DARE.

Especially when I get repaid with such lovely, lovely ask-stories such as this! Just - guh. Thalassa putting Ardyn before everything, before even the two people she’s been waiting so long for - he is her child, her Chosen, she chose to love him, and so she values him more then anything. And to Ardyn - Ardyn has always known that his Mother loved him. She broke him from his cell; she took him into her waters when he was alone and helpless and broken, she soothed his hurts and swore justice on her behalf. She rallied the Storm-Sender to their side; she has talked of swaying Titan, when he wakes from his long slumber.

Ardyn has always known that his Mother loved him. But this - this tangible evidence is enough to make his breath catch as he hugs her, enough for something thick and salty to crawl up his throat as he swallows hard. Leviathan would - for him? Truly?

Ardyn is. Slightly perturbed when he learns the identities of Thalassa’s soulmates, but observation - and subtle interrogation of his own - reveals that. They really are that good. They really are that desperately devoted to his Mother, despite the fact that they’ve only really just met. (Also, Ardyn, with his various governmental influences, might be the one to weave Thalassa an Official Human Identity™ - she’s probably listed as a native of Accordio, who has family in Galahd, and five brothers and sisters - one of whom is long deceased.) Ardyn - Ardyn gives them his blessing, and smiles a genuine smile as he wishes them well.

And yes, Ardyn finding his own Soulmates, his own song, which has long since grown silent - or not silent, but instead buried beneath the screams of countless deamons, long since lost to the wailing of the hoard. Only now. Only now, they’re right in front of him, and the way they’re looking at him as no one has ever looked at him before - surprise and welcome and joy. Joy, because - because of him, pure, simple welcome and gratitude such as no one mortal has bestowed on him in literal centuries - Ardyn manages to hold onto his composure by the skin of his teeth during that first meeting, only to collapse into Thalassa’s arms shortly afterwards. Soulmates. He has soulmates, who want him.

@angelrider13