#;; shield of the flame ;; (clive)

[h-a-unted]

“ It's okay, just breathe. ” — Marali (@dollhidden) to Clive!

It's a pain that scares him, one that feels like it'll rip off everything he has and then some. Having woken up from such a nightmare, feeling the embers linger on his skin, his fingertips, he shudders to understand just what that entails.

And yet, he is hyperventilating at the notion... He knows what he is, but he doesn't want to know, and the pain sinks even deeper.

The voice brings him back, as much as it can and he finally notices that his hands are shaking, but there are no embers engulfing them. The roar that he heard so intensely, the raw sensation of a cruel battle was but a fabrication of his mind... He was here, and he was alright. By his side, he turns to see, Marali, soothing him.

"Forgive me, I... I must have fallen asleep without noticing. I did not mean to disturb you. I suppose I was loud. Are you... Are you alright?"

[azurescaled]

Clive tag dump

[secondflame-archive]

ahem.

[avalior]

clive tag drop !

[wyvern-flames]

Okay but why is Younger Clive so adorable...?

[emblazons]

"To Shield The Firebird's Flame Forevermore."

The Phoenix, First Shield, & Archduke of Rosaria Joshua, Clive & Elwin Rosfield in Final Fantasy XVI

[drabblesandimagines]

Request for Joshua getting married?

I got a bit carried away from a drabble with this one. Anon, please lemme know what you think! x

-- Joshua Rosfield x female reader, fluff, tiny smidge of suggestive spice at the very end

It was foolish to think the two of you would’ve ever got away with a quiet affair, not when the Bearer of the Burning Quill was around. When Joshua had announced his intention to marry you, Cyril had appeared laden with parchment denoting the wedding rites of the Phoenix over years upon years.

The Undying had been so loyal to Phoenix that he had found them quite impossible to refuse, especially when some had expressed their joy at the prospect of being allowed to see such a ceremony, unsure if it would be held in their lifetime.

“A small, short ceremony at Phoenix Gate,” Joshua had proposed as a compromise. “Then whatever else you want, wherever you want, my love.”

How could you refuse?

The gown is prepared for you, a vibrant red, off the shoulder sleeves, gold threads embroidered throughout in the pattern of feathers by hands far more skilled than your own – the same hands that now help you dress, murmuring words of how much it is an honour to prepare the Phoenix’s bride. The finishing touch is to be a circlet of pure gold, studded with rubies, fetched from the vault below the sanctum.

“Every partner of the Phoenix has worn this as long as the records have been kept,” Cyril had said in his usual soft manner as he placed it upon your crown, before stepping back with a bow. “Long may the tradition continue after today.”

You barely have time to look at yourself in the mirror when you are ushered out of your chambers and towards a waiting carriage.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Clive offers you his hand as you emerge from the sanctum at dusk. As the First Shield, sworn to protect the Phoenix, it is only right he is charged with escorting the bride to him. “I will go as far to say that you will render my brother speechless and I know we would both admit that will be quite the feat.”

You smile, thankful to have him there. “Thank you.”

You accept his hand, squeezing it a little too firmly as you step up into the carriage, wary of the adoring eyes of the acolytes on you, those not granted an invitation but wishing to catch a glimpse all the same. You let go of Clive’s hand as you situate yourself on the bench within and he soon joins you, sitting opposite. A lantern burns brightly from the ceiling and the windows are shuttered – not that it matters as the sun continues to set.

“Are you going to be okay?” You ask as the carriage sets off on its journey. He looks perplexed at your question, so you continue. “With the ceremony being at Phoenix Gate, I mean.”

“Indeed - I made my peace there a few years ago. It will be nice to make a happier memory there of gaining a sister, though.”

“Mm.” You smile at his sentiments. “I am afraid I am a little nervous.”

“Allow me to assure you that Joshua will be even more so.”

--

The ruined stone walls of Phoenix Gate have been ladened with candles – the flickering flames greeting you as Clive once again offers his hand to escort you down from the carriage. The ceremony itself is going to take place within the chamber – right in front of the door Joshua was due to enter all those years ago.

A single Undying acolyte waits by the entrance, head bowed low, heavy brown cloak in hand. They hand it to Clive, wordlessly, before retreating into the chamber, not once raising their eyes from the ground.

The First Shield shakes out the cloak from its folds and pauses. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

He drapes it over your shoulders, fastening the clasp underneath your chin before gently pulling the hood down low over your face. He guides your arm through his and steps forward, kicking at the door once with his foot before they are opened before you.

It is hard to see beneath the hood, but from the shadows on the floor you know the chamber is littered with even more candles. Dozens of Undying are lined up along the sides and the whole room is silent, besides the occasional spit of flame and scuff of yours and Clive’s footsteps on the stone.

He leads you up to the makeshift altar and you so desperately wish to lift your head, to see Joshua’s eyes but the scorn of Master Cyril prevents you from doing so. If you can just be patient for a few more moments, you can stare into his eyes as long as you like.

“We are here this night,” Cyril’s voice booms around the chambers – much louder than you’ve ever heard him speak before, “to witness the union of the Phoenix and his beloved. First Shield, do you confirm the one you have escorted here is the one the Phoenix wishes to wed?”

“I do confirm.” Clive’s hand then takes your own and he holds it out in offering. Butterflies erupt in your stomach as you feel Joshua lace his fingers with your own – though it had only been a day, you had missed his touch something awful in the lead-up.

“Phoenix, do you confirm this is the one you wish to bind your heart with?”

Joshua’s other hand grips your chin, tilting your head up so you can finally meet his eyes. Tears brim his own as he smiles – not being able to see you has been akin to torture. He is dressed more or less the same as usual, though his somewhat frayed red cowl has been replaced with a new one, embroidered with the same gold thread pattern as on your gown.

His hand moves from your chin to grip the hood of the cloak – a flame dancing between his fingers as he does so. In a blink of an eye, the cloak disintegrates in a flash of fire, revealing your gown to an audible gasp from the acolytes watching. Joshua’s face slackens, rendered speechless as Clive foretold, wide-eyes… Cyril gently nudges his foot with his own, a reminder he does need to answer.

“I… I do… I do confirm.” He’s almost breathless, before the boyish grin creeps back into place. “Absolutely, completely confirm.”

“And, my lady,” Cyril turns to you, your fingers still entwined with Joshua’s, “do you confirm that the Phoenix is the one you wish to bind your heart with?”

“I do confirm.”

“Then may the binding of your hearts here on this night shield the firebird’s flame forevermore.”

Joshua wastes not a second before he has wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you forward into a deep kiss – as if he needs you to breathe. For once, you are unaware of the eyes of the Undying upon you, feeling that you and your husband are the only ones in the chamber before the silence is broken by applause over your shoulder – Clive trying to bring a little joviality into the crowd. Slowly, the acolytes join in and Joshua pulls back from the kiss to murmur in your ear.

“Thank you, sweet one.”

He tucks his arm through yours and leads the two of you back through the chamber, the Undying bowing their heads as you pass, back to the carriage you and Clive left only minutes ago – Joshua had promised the ceremony would be short, after all.

Aided by Joshua’s hand, you climb back up into the carriage and he follows to nestle in at your side, shutting the door before peppering your face and neck with kisses.

“Joshua,” you giggle, the carriage once again lurching forward. You were heading back to the sanctum where more Undying will be waiting to see the Phoenix and his wife and at this rate you’re going to be as red as your gown by the time you arrive.

“I can’t help it,” he withdraws. “It’s this dress – you look… I mean…”

You laugh again, cupping his face with your palm. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He moves your hand from his face, kissing your knuckles. “So much.”

You stare into each other’s eyes, soaking in your first private moment with your husband -  the word makes your stomach flip – before he lets go of your hand and plucks at the fabric of your skirt.

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking?”

He bites his lip before he responds, the boyish grin returning. “I am wondering if, when we enter our bedchambers, this gown will burn as quickly as the cloak did.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[sevi007]

"On this my sword I swear... to shield the firebird's flame forevermore!"

Twitter | Instagram

This took me - I think, 20 hours? to finish, and I'm quite happy with it!Slowly getting the hang of digital art! But honestly, I now kind of hate Clive's armor. Absolutely gorgeous to look at, personal nightmare to draw. XD

Close up of the face under the cut:

[heyanobody]

CLIVE ROSFIELD

The firstborn son of the Archduke of Rosaria. Though all expected him to inherit the Phoenix’s flames and awaken as its Dominant, destiny instead chose his younger brother Joshua to bear this burden. In search of a role of his own, Clive dedicated himself to mastering the blade. His practice pays off when, just at fifteen years of age, he wins the ducal tournament and is dubbed the First Shield of Rosaria - tasked to guard the Phoenix and blessed with the ability to wield a part of his fire. Alas, Clive’s promising career is to end in tragedy at the hands of a mysterious dark Eikon, Ifrit, setting him on a dangerous road to revenge.

FINAL FANTASY XVI [ 1 / ∞ ]

[pcndaemonium]

i started sketching ana's outfit in her dominant verse, instead of writing. and i still have so many feels about this verse from her being even more caged than before, losing her first shield and being so heartbroken it takes her ten years to appoint a new one ( clive ), just to lose him again a year later during the night of flames.

it's very rough and shitty, maybe i draw an actual sheet tmr when my eyes aren't tired.

i probably put her sword in her left hand so when she fights, you can see those golden feathers move on her cloak-thingy. it might be very distracting. also watch me taking smth from joshua's design because i can...

her outfit in general is relatively light aside from the few armour pieces like her chest plate, shoulder pieces and the pieces on her thighs. it's not that well visible but she also carries a black dagger in the back. it's poisoned most of the time and she likes to use it while distracting her opponents with her golden/brass-coloured sword and the cloak.

[h-a-unted]

There was a quiet shuffle of dirt from tired paws scuffed lightly across the ground as Torgal made his way past the fire to lay at Clive’s side. Letting out with a soft huff of breath and resting his chin on his forelegs as intelligent eyes lingered on his master. A low whine accompanied a glance at Clive’s food. — @afinehound

It was always delightful to meet up with Torgal – whether it was so late at night or very early in the morning, regardless of how exhausted the two could be. His loyal pet would always find his way to him and his master would always reward him for it. One of his hands move away from holding the plate of food to ruffle and scratch fur between the dog's ears.

"Hey boy... What is it?" Well, it didn't take a philosopher to know just what the hound wanted the moment he glanced over at his plate full of food. A scoff comes out of Clive. "I'm pretty sure you ate not too long ago, didn't you, boy?"

Yet, if there was something Torgal knew ever since they met long ago, it was that Clive was a softie when it came to him... and any of his loved ones, in general. How could he say no to that whine? He'd much rather starve than allow for Torgal to be sad. His plate lowers over to the dog's mouth, eyes glancing over at the plate and then at Torgal, eyebrows raised.

"Go ahead, take a bite. We'll be sharing this, though, so make sure to leave some for me. Deal?"

[fire-branded]

Still thinking about Miles and this Hellhound thing. Keep in mind, I know nothing about Teen Wolf, which is where this originally came up during a conversation about, so I'm just taking the title/name and running with it. Oops.

So, I know I've said this like fifty billion times at this point, but Elwin chose the name "Miles" specifically because of the definitions "soldier" and "merciful" -- so, merciful soldier.

Now imagine if he also took the moniker of The Hellhound, or just Hellhound, once liberated. (Probably just Hellhound, to be honest.) I don't believe hellhounds are "evil" or anything, as the superstitions tend to portray; but that they are harbingers of death, and guardians to the Underworld, yes. Or that's a very general tl;dr, anyway. Ordinarily, Miles would strive to be merciful like his chosen name implies, but when it comes to implementing justice on those who have caused great suffering to others(particularly innocents and those unable to defend themselves), he is far less compassionate when he seeks them out to bring about their end.

It doesn't help that ever since I first settled on his design when the concept of him really became a thing, the "vibe" I was always going for with him was a "shaggy mutt". A choice which, as uncreative as it is, is meant to contrast how he was before The Night of Flames.

He also, like Clive, has that sliver of the Phoenix's fire magic, bestowed upon him by his father when he earned his place as his father's First Shield.

[secondflame-archive]

[adureus]

( 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 : @nievea / 𝐉𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊. )

Tales of might, of valour, of gods, and of men. Page upon page rewards with poetic inscriptions. Prose steals youthful curiosity from the world, allows duty and boy to be divided just this once. An orb of flames flanks his left, suspended above, born of aether to illuminate his nook. There's a gentle curl of lips, a contented hum, the culmination of this hero's fable only swells to thrill. Then ⸻ shadows leap and twist beneath the oaken door ; there's a sudden bout of shuffling just beyond his chambers. A peep : Quiet. Meek. A rattle soon follows. Another peep, louder now. With fingers deft, the tome is shut and the embers extinguished. Soon, all succumbs to the dark, melting to naught but moonlit silhouettes. His first guess : Torgal. The pup, however, sleeps soundly at the base of the bed ( if the steady rise and bristle of fur was any indication. Cue the accompanying stir of breath into tiny lungs. ). The rap at the door sounds again, and he debates feigning exhaustion to grant him mercy should it be Lord Murdoch. Chastising was guaranteed should he find his protégé still cognizant, disrespecting his schedule. A shield is of no use should he find himself overtired. A chuckle ; even now does Clive entertain the thought, mimics the voice of his mentor, adopts a mocking, guttural tone. Whomever resides at the door is persistent, and summons more might into their knock. Again. Thrice.

❛   Enter.   ❜ Retreating back to his bed, his apprehension becomes palpable as knees are pulled to his chest. The broadness near devours him in the sprawl of sheets, so vast compared to his form. A creak at the door and his company is revealed to be contrary to his original assumption. ❛   Jill ⸻ !   ❜ A sharp breath, then an immediate softening to his voice. Relaxed. Less measured. Fingers curl about the spine of the book as if protective ⸻ an instinctive action, though she is no assailant. ❛   Forgive me. Are you searching for Torgal ? He deigned to keep me company tonight. I always believed he preferred the comforts of your chambers compared to mine. You have far more pillows.   ❜

[storm-driver]

okay i cant help it anymore, ffxvi spoiler talk up to the events of phoenix gate 2

I am. So entranced by this game.

Clive Rosfield is one of the best RPG protagonists I've ever seen. Arguably one of the best male protagonists ever. It's not even me swooning for him (which I am, he's hot af). But he is just so well written in his current predicaments.

A royal boy thrown into the gutter and having to fight for their life is a trope done before, but this genuinely feels like an undeserved torture for the poor boy, and all you wanna do is see him win a few times. His family was revered, but not because of their royalty alone. Because his father was a genuinely good person and Clive, by extension, was taught by the best. He loves his little brother and wishes so badly he could help Joshua bear the burden of being the Phoenix, and Clive made it his life's goal to be his Shield and keep him safe.

Which, just makes it so much more tragic when Clive ends up being a huge factor in the slaughter of his people, and he has next to no control over it. You pity him so much, because he just doesn't know he's a root in all the strife, including own self-loathing for being unable to save his brother.

It's obvious to the audience, painfully so, that he's Ifrit, and just hasn't realized it. So when Clive himself finally realizes it, after putting on the angsty front for the first few hours, you suddenly realise HOW BAD that must feel. How much he must want to kill himself, after loathing Ifrit and what'd he'd caused for the past 13-years. His family getting slaughtered, mother betraying them all, and then being hoisted into the frontline and branded as a slave.

It's this cacophony of sorrow, and despite it all, Clive is hardly crying for himself. He's always in strife for the sake of others, himself be damned. And on top of that, he has these moments vulnerability where he screams out his hatred and disgust, hatred for himself, and the people who torture his loved ones. He cries openly, begs the torment to end, falls to his knees and prays that whatever torture is happening isn't real.

It's such genuine and real emotion that I seldom have difficulty believing. I am invested in most every emotional moment in this game. Because Clive is such an excellent portrayal of a war-hardened soul who hasn't forgotten how to love others. He still holds onto that humanity that his father taught him, and the innocence that he saw in Joshua.

It's so compelling, especially when it reaches a pique in the ruins of Phoenix Gate, where Clive has to confront his inner demons and properly accept his actions, the truth of what happened that night. That'd he'd murdered many of his own people, including his own brother, in a blind rage that he had no control over. That control of himself, his acceptance of his actions, properly manifesting in the limit break system, where he can finally control Ifrit's power, and he's stronger than he's been before.

It's such good buildup to that moment, because there is no huge bombshell drop to tell the audience "he's Ifrit!!!" You already know that going in, the game doesn't try to hide it at all. Rather the buildup to the acceptance is gradual. Clive venturing through the cruel world he once considered his home. Being treated like crap all because of a mark on his cheek. Realising he is a cause of the strife.

And rather than being overwhelmed by despair and taking his own life, he grabs this deadly power by the reigns and makes it his own. He won't suffer the cruelty of this world anymore, not without fighting back. There's kindness in his heart, but there's a raging fire there, too. Burning hot after 13 long years of suffering under his own guilt, grief, and hatred. A stubborn flame that flickers, but never dies.

[browniefox]

“Clive is wounded,” Tyler had told Elwin when he’s burst into his study. “And something else has happened.”

What this something else is, Tyler has not elaborated, which does not bode well. Elwin sprints through the castle, following Tyler to the barracks and training grounds. He was aware that Lord Commander Telamon (‘Cid’s fine’, the man had said, but Elwin could not think of him on such casual terms) had challenged Clive to a friendly spar.

The fact that Clive is now apparently wounded does not bode well.

He smells the fire before he sees it, and more adrenaline pours into him.

“Joshua!” Elwin shouts.

His son has semi-primed, wreathed in flames with phoenix tail feathers coming from his back. He’s fighting some kind of other beast, fire and brimstone flames darker and more wild than Joshua’s. Why are all the Shields just standing around? Elwin reaches for his sword and.

“Don’t.”

A hand grabs Elwin’s wrist, stopping him from drawing his weapon. Lord Commander Telamon’s face lacks it’s usual confident smirk.

“That’s my son-” Elwin starts, jerking his hand away. Telamon lets go, but his face is still serious as he corrects Elwin.

“Both of your sons.”