AO3 (FFXIV, Stargate Atlantis, Baldur's Gate 3, Dragon Age: The Veilguard, Love and Deepspace.)
Prompt-based ficlets: #ink and silver stars.
WoL
A Seeker of the Sun miqo'te, whose canon universe is the Seasons and Promises verse, an MSQ adjacent story where a plan thousands of years in the making culminates in a reunion in Ultima Thule. A mother of three, married to Hades and Hythlodaeus. Main battle classes Dancer and White Mage. Enthusiastic baker and botanist. Azem's reincarnation.
Tags: #stitched by starlight // #aesthetic: stitched by starlight.
Azem
The Fourteenth seat, who adores her people and their city, yet cannot help but see their flaws. Rumours of her being a creation and 'not real' have followed her since childhood. Content to bend the rules as suits the purpose to aid others; unrelentingly kind in the most stubborn of ways. Married to Hades and Hythlodaeus. Main classes Dancer and Paladin.
Tags: #woven in sunlight // #aesthetic: woven in sunlight.
Izeira
What happens when a tangle of Azem's most extreme emotions stored in an unidentified concept crystal meet a new soul in the aetherial sea? A sweet girl burdened with increasingly desctructive powers, Izeira is yet attempting to learn how to lean into her 'gifts'. When not adventuring, she resides in Ishgard. Married to Aymeric and Estinien.
Tags: #spirit of hearthlight // #aesthetic: spirit of hearthlight
Yskari 'Kari' de Riva ('Rook')
A Crow originating from Clan Lavellan, given to the Crows in her teens following quiet warnings from her Inquisitor cousin. Heartsblood is an AU that tells her canon story, while the Moonlight and Midnights universe follows game canon. Soft heart underneath it all ā big fan of hugs. Involved with Lucanis. Codex entries.
Tags: #heart of firelight // #aesthetic: heart of firelight
MC
Tags: #elixir of midnight // #aesthetic: elixir of midnight
Writing for prompts:
FFXIV
Azem/Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus + pairings within the trio.
WoL/Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus + pairings within the trio.
Izeira/Aymeric/Estinien + pairings within the trio.
Opens with Darling, set during the Final Days. After learning the truth of the future from Venat, Azem tells her daughter stories about her family and attempts to work out a way to save her from being sundered.
The continuation begins with One Step Closer, where the WoL tries to work out what life looks like after the choice she made in Ultima Thule.
A look at some of Antonia's (WoL's previous but one incarnation) story, As Sun Upon the Snow, fits within this universe, but contains no direct references to it.
Fics and aesthetics: #seasons and promises verse.
Reflections
Azem/Emet-Selch/Hythlodaeus, Modern AU.
Reflections in Stardust
Of course Hythlodaeus' new roommate and oldest friend is a musical theatre snob and playing in productions of Shakespeare at the National...
Fics and aesthetics: #reflections verse.
Regency
In which there are myriad rumours surrounding the taciturn and anti-social Hades, but fellow not-quite-outcasts Azem and Hythlodaeus are not one bit deterred.
Is a marriage of convenience really a marriage of convenience when it's also quite plainly for love?
Fics and aesthetics: #for want of a ribbon.
Fate Eternal
A soulmate AU detailed here, in which soulmates can feel one another's intense pain and both the WoL and Emet-Selch endure more than one sort of agony over the course of the MSQ.
Fics: #fate eternal.
Betwixt the Stars
A sci-fi AU detailed here, in which Amaurot's civilisation is divided amongst a fleet of starships, with much of its key functions and defense centered on its fourteen flagships, captained by the Convocation. Hades and Hythlodaeus command The Underworld, while Azem's ship is The Shepherd. Their marriage is the worst kept secret in the fleet.
Fics: #betwixt the stars.
Souls in Bloom
A WoL x Hades x Hythlodaeus flower shop AU, in which the so-called Witch of Elpis is a sparingly spoken florist who has an uncanny ability to know which flowers her customers need, something Hythlodaeus and Hades discover when the former insists on seeing if the rumours are true.
Fics: #souls in bloom.
Of Tea and Tempests
A reincarnated Azem crosses paths with Emet-Selch during a protracted conflict between the people of her nation and that which he has decided to lead into battle. Stems from drabble six of Metempsychosis.
Fics: #of tea and tempests
Royalty AU
The crown was never meant for Hades. Azem and Hythlodaeus were never meant to return to court. After ten years apart and a decade of heartache, is there anything of what they were that they can save?
Fics: #a dance by heart
Supernatural creatures AU
When a so-called witch nurses a rather tame 'wolf' back to health, it brings a vampire to her doorstep. And it turns out that the wolf would quite like to stay...
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After the burst of shock and alarm and raised voices that he does his best to quell with smiles and deflections and assurances that surely it will only be temporary, Hythlodaeus finds that his world goes quiet.
It is not, he thinks, that all around him truly grows more distant, but that his focus is so very fixed upon that which is required to make all seem as it should be; that he should not unnecessarily distress those around him - most of all the first year student of the Akaedemia, whose wayward creation has led him down this path ofā¦
Sightlessness.
Except, he is not truly without a way to navigate the world. The sight that he spent his youth slipping into more often than not remains within his reach, once the near default because it felt so much easier. All those years ago, an afternoon of seeing all that the veils and shields of the world would not yield for so many, Hades lounging at his side, was as close to peace as his young self could hope for, safe in the assurance that he was understood. Secure in the knowledge that they both found comfort in a shared vision awash with so many different and varied hues; secrets in the silence for only them to see, noise and bustle cast aside.
His office, he knows like the back of his hand, and the illusion that he is not so terribly often in residence has served well to keep all but the most urgent of cases from his door over the years. The navigating of it is relatively simple, even with the items of lesser aetheric density making barely visible ghosts of themselves. And to teleport from there directly home (and vice versa) is only sensible, and, in-fact, the norm for many. He can do without the small joys of his walk home for as long as might be necessary.
Late into the evening, he learns that clear sight of the book in his wifeās lap is an impossible affair, the outline of it a tremulously skeletal thing that he cannot pin down, and so he rests his head against her shoulder in such a fashion as invites her to understand he would enjoy hearing her read, and he need not stumble over himself should she giggle at a line she finds especially amusing and point it out to share it with him.
It is easy to follow the glowing beacons of the colours he loves best through doorways and down into bed. That is, it is a simple, glorious affair of intertwining flames that he allows himself to bask in as robes are abandoned at the end of the bed and pleasure soon follows, until it strikes clear at his heart that he cannot discern the blush that he so loves to chase over Hadesā skin, nor perceive the brightness in amber eyes that reveals a devotion that he could drown in.
But he utters not a word of his loss, instead channeling faith into belief in its return. That he will see his husband pretend not to smile time and again, and witness Azemās delight in her latest discovery from across the star.
For two days, it works. Muscle memory serves him well, and he reminds himself to give himself a stern talking to over a handful of concept approvals falling behind. If he takes Azemās arm a little more around their home, leaning into her every now and then, well it is perfectly normal for them to seek out physical contact even when it is not strictly necessary.
(Later, he will realise that she was always there precisely when he needed her.)
On the morning of the third day, as he gazes down at a sleepy Hades, fascinated, as ever, by the threads of near-white gold and darkest shadow that drift through his soul, he waits for some theatrically disgruntled remark to be levelled at him, only to hearā¦
āYouāve been hiding this for days, havenāt you?ā
He considers lying. Pretending. Feigning ignorance.
Yet there is a particular pain running through those words that betrays a desire for a confession that he has not made; a worry centred on its absence.
Of course Hades would know. Maybe it is that he has known all along, of course able to most clearly identify even the slightest distance to his gaze and know what it means. Perhaps he has seen what of his aether he has been burning through to use his sight: a mere thimbleful for the man he loves, yet for himā¦
āItās temporary,ā he says softly. āA defence mechanism from a new creature concept. One I will not be approving without significant changes.ā
He tries out the idea of a smile that he knows does not flourish, fear suddenly rising to choke him andā
A flash of light. Sunshine spilling through a gap in the heavy drapes at the windows. A flicker at the periphery of darkness.
He hears himself take in a shuddering breath.
And lets Hades hold him for the remainder of the morning.
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She wakes to an awareness that the bed beneath her is too soft, the pillows delightfully fluffy, andā
There is a warm weight settled over her, her legs pinned down by those of another, feathers that have softened over recent days from a brittle bone-shard sharpness to a lighter down draped across her in a lazy embrace, the faint hum of the Fade drifting over her skin.
It is an automatic thing, how she lifts a hand to run her fingers through Lucanisā hair - a gentle touch meant not to wake him or disturb Spite from what reverie he may have achieved - and while moments pass in the quiet, soon he lifts his head from her abdomen to look up at her, a clarity to his gaze that suggests that he has, in-fact, not been sleeping at all.
Nothing that would seem especially out of the ordinary, for all that he most certainly does, on some nights, find sleep an easier affair than when their paths first crossed, yet there is something just a little abashed about him, the beginnings of a blush touching his cheekbones. It is a sight that keeps her from immediately enquiring after why he has not managed to get any rest, the pad of a thumb chasing after deepening pink, inviting from him a soft, wry huff of amusement before he turns his head just a fraction to brush a kiss against the edge of it.
A shiver runs through wings that seek to blanket her in a more possessive hold now, a moment of Spiteās disgruntlement at having his - their - embrace dislodged even so minutely shining through.
She answers it by running a hand over feathers, feeling tension ease as Lucanis settles down once more, tucking his hands against her ribs to cradle them as a content sigh escapes him.
And stillā¦
There was something in that look that she cannot quite leave aloneā¦
āCanāt sleep?ā she murmurs, looping the ends of his hair about her fingers.
Silence.
Then: ā...Not exactly.ā
He must sense the shift in her; feel the sudden tightening of muscles as she steels herself for whatever answer will come, as he nudges a kiss against the base of her ribs and lingers there with his lips pressed warmly to her skin as he gathers himself.
āYou wereā¦ agitated this evening,ā he says softly. āDistracted. You tend not toā¦ sleep well on such nights.ā
It is her turn to blush, an ache coiling about her heart as she slips into self-recrimination at her inability to explain herself and tell him what sneaks up to pursue her without warning, haunting her and hooking claws in to steal away moments even when she is more than as perfectly happy as she can ever recall being.
Now she has disturbed him further, keeping him from his own well-deserved rest andā
āKeep watch,ā Spite utters, a heated thread of devotion running through rough tones. āChase away nightmares.ā
She rests a palm between his shoulder blades, anchoring it there as she endeavours to use the steadiness of his breathing to right her own.
ā...How often do you do this?ā she dares to ask.
Lucanis looks up at her once more, wings unfurling and resettling as he prowls over her to tuck his face into the crook of her neck and drop a lingering kiss there.
āHow often do you hold me when I cannot sleep? When I wake and canāt trust where I am? That weāreā¦ free?ā
She does not count. Does not keep a tally. Does not think twice about any of it.
ā¦So, why would he and Spite?
Tangling herself up with him until she can be sure that she has eliminated as much distance between them as possible, she holds on tight, one hand threaded into his hair and the other sunk into feathers.
