#Accursed Adagium

[feratu]

[ardynzine]

We're excited to share that Apostle, Accursed and Adagium tiers have all officially been shipped!!

We had a couple emails bounce back so if anyone in these tiers does not receive their PDFs before midnight tonight please contact us 💜

[a-world-in-grey]

Spark!Ardyn verse is just So Fun, isn't it?

Which of the Astrals would realise immediately that Ifrit is back and the Accursed is no more, and more importantly, who would help him stay low so Bahamut doesn't find out?

Spark!Ardyn verse is giving me life, not gonna lie. Ifrit just knocked over a whole line of dominoes and Bahamut's house of cards is about to come crashing down hard.

I have two candidates for which Astral notices Ifrit's return and his new Spark.

Ramuh may be asleep, but even more than Galahd, Angelgard is Ramuh's domain. He knows everyone who steps foot on the island. Knows their hearts and souls so that he may pass Judgement. He feels when Besithia arrives on the island, feels when he takes the Adagium from his prison, feels Adagium's horror when he daemonifies one of the souls attacking him, feels Besithia's satisfied curiosity.

He knows he should strike the transport carrying Adagium from Angelgard. Bahamut would demand it - Adagium is a threat to the souls under their care and Besithia intends to use Adagium for his own ends.

Ramuh should strike Adagium and Besithia down.

He stays his hand.

(Ardyn Lucis Caelum was never the brother that belonged in these stone halls.)

Unlike the other sleeping Astrals, Shiva does not sleep in her domain. Leviathan may choose the comforts of her waves, Titan the embrace of the earth, Ramuh his isle of judgement. But Shiva doesn't lay amongst the ice capped peaks or frozen tundra. No, she sleeps in the desert sands, with the alternating bite of the day's heat and the soothe of night's chill. She cannot lay in a volcano's heart as Ifrit does, but the desert is the closest she'll get to her lover's touch.

Until she feels Ifrit's power flare, so close and so furious, and it's been millennia but Shiva still remembers the feel of her lover's Sparks.

A Spark still white-hot from Ifrit's Blessing. A Spark that once belonged to the Draconian. The now-cured Adagium.

Isn't that interesting.

Shiva will never regret defending humanity from Ifrit's Fury. She will never regret defending the many innocents caught up in the crossfire sparked by the betrayal of a few. She will never regret defending the very humans Ifrit taught her to love.

But she will always regret that she couldn't stop Ifrit before Bahamut put him in the ground.

Shiva knows Bahamut's plan to deal with the Starscourge. Ardyn Lucis Caelum was their first Chosen, chosen for his compassion and love for his people. Compassion Shiva had insisted on, because it was that compassion that Ifrit once had for humanity, and humanity, before anyone else, belonged to Ifrit first. Their Chosen should share Ifrit's heart.

But compassion can be a double edged blade, and Bahamut condemned their Chosen for the actions he'd taken trying to save humanity.

And Shiva knows Bahamut will put their Chosen in the ground just as he did Ifrit.

Shiva loves humanity. Shiva still loves Ifrit.

She won't help Bahamut kill her lover or his Spark.

Shiva cannot help Ifrit or Ardyn directly. She still sleeps, for all that she's aware, and she has only a fraction of her power like this.

She doesn't need power.

Shiva's not known as the Trickster Goddess for nothing.

[astralbcrn]

Bahamut had expected that answer. "Very well, allow me to explain." Motioning for the Crystal before them, he spoke once more: "The Stone—chrysalis to the soul of our star, cradle to the King destined to serve as vessel of its Light. Gods and men alike awaited the coming of the Chosen as they fought to fend off darkness' blight, for he and he alone would possess the power to purge our star of its scourge." The words rang throughout the room and the Crystal seemed to glow brighter for a moment.

"For two thousand years, Eos has awaited the coming of the Chosen King – the True King. Adagium, the source of the scourge, had been locked away all this time, to give the Chosen King time to be born. Now, the Accursed runs free once more," all because of Niflheim. Bahamut had been quite displeased at that, but it did not matter. Noctis would get the task done.

"At age five, Noctis Lucis Caelum was chosen as the True King by the Crystal. He will purge our star of its scourge, as it has been ordained. The current King will die and his soul will be consumed by the ring, to avoid the Chosen King in his task," it was something that could not be avoided. Noctis needed the power.

"The Chosen has a long journey ahead of him. He will need aid. Something you could provide."

Curiosity and dread warred in his stomach as he found someone to watch his post. It didn't take him that long, and then he was returning to the messenger.

He was motioned to follow and did so without complaint. It didn't take long for him to realize where they were going. He'd been in the chamber before, but it had been years. The guards barely gave them a second glance before letting them in.

While the messenger stood in front of the Crystal, Cor stood back some, a frown pulling at his lips. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Not much," he admitted, shaking his head slightly.

[chosenbythecrystal]

@inimiicus continued from here.

The fox had seemed nice, but the things it had told him hadn't been nice at all. They were mostly things about Ardyn - about how Noctis shouldn't trust him, should get as far away from him as possible.

"I know but...it felt real." As real as a dream about a talking fox could be. It had felt important. Urgent. Like he was supposed to listen to what the fox was saying and heed its warnings. But he didn't want to.

The fox had told him not to tell Ardyn but he had already done that and the moment the hand rested on his shoulder, he felt the need to tell him the rest. Ardyn couldn't be bad when he was so nice to him, right?

"That I have a destiny. One that you don't want me to reach. So I should get away from you. It didn't say what it was. Just that it was important and would save the world. It called you the Accursed and something else...Adagium, I think." The young Prince completely butchered the pronunciation of the word, but someone who knew the term,  would no doubt understand it. "I told it that you wouldn't hurt me. You wouldn't, right?"

[secret-engima]

....I lied. If you’re still doing the title thing - if I go down gonna burn with the sun

I thought there was a few more title asks still lurking in here for me to answer. *cracks knuckles* RAMBLE TIME.

-Star Wars AU. Star Wars FFXV sorta-x-over AU where the Astrals decide that Aera and Ardyn deserve a chance at happiness, just not on Eos, and therefore go YEET. The Force, finding these two wayward and powerful souls is like- Sure okay and boom. Ardyn and Aera are reborn in a galaxy far, far away.

-Purely not coincidentally, far away, on different worlds and in different star systems, one Satine Kryze and one Obi-Wan Kenobi take their first breaths.

-Yes I’m serious.

-This would be- SUCH a chaotic fixit AU, both because Aera loves peace but she is NO pacifist and not about to let an entire Culture DIE just because some so called New Mandalorians cannot see the dangers of burying their own past. Two because- well.

-Ardyn has already BEEN a Chosen One and an Accursed, a Hero and a Villain. He has walked the path to salvation and damnation both and seen the worst sides of himself and humanity, and for all they look different, every species in the galaxy isn’t far different from humanity in those regards.

-Obi-Wan Kenobi grows up in the Jedi Temple and he is a Troublesome Child. Too quiet and too reckless by turns, a smile that could melt butter and a tongue that can strip flesh from the backs of whatever bully goes after him this time. The Jedi ... worry. He is Dark, they whisper, was born with shreds of Darkness in his soul. He is manipulative, they worry, he has a temper, they gossip.

-Ardyn hears them all and inside a part of him screams. Because of course he is Dark, they did not have their souls swallowed by a plague for others’ sake, were not consumed with madness until dying (being freed) at the hands of a nephew two thousand years removed. As for manipulation ... he doesn’t mean to. It’s just ... he’s so much OLDER than the other children mentally, older even than any Jedi there (even YODA), he can’t help it that he thinks rings around people sometimes, or that he is so in tune with the Force (with a galaxy-spanning magic that burns beneath his skin like a hundred newborn suns that he keeps buried so the Jedi will not sense it so clearly, will not know how strong and old he really is inside) that he can practically read minds and knows what to say to get the best outcome. He has a temper. Who doesn’t? You try being reborn after a lifetime of AGONY and see how patient you are with petty morons and small minded bullies.

-He says none of those things, and when his time grows near to be sent away without a Master, he does not fight it.

-He looks at the shadow of Qui Gon Jinn in the doorway and something in the Force ... sings. Sad and soft. It speaks of heartache and betrayal and a fear of being hurt again. Ardyn can almost FEEL the two paths branching away under his feet, one with Qui Gon in it, and one without, and he does not know which one will bring him less pain.

-Ardyn does not try to impress anyone in the sparring ring, but after he is done, he slips away. He finds Jinn in the garden, trying to meditate, and settles down across from him without invitation.

-Qui Gon opens his eyes in annoyance. He knows that the Council wants him to take a Padawan, and that this one is almost at the age of being moved to the Corps. He expects the boy to beg to become a Padawan, or to try to impress him somehow.

-Instead the boy just smiles, thin and sharp and knowing in a way that makes Qui Gon feel ... exposed. Like every thought and wound in his heart is on display for this child, “The Council wants you to take a Padawan. That’s why they keep making you watch us.” It’s a statement, not a question.

-Qui Gon raises an eyebrow, “And you think I should take you?”

-The boy shrugs, but his blue eyes are still sharp as knives behind his friendly mien and Qui Gon doesn’t like the feeling crawling up his spine, “That’s your choice to make and yours alone. There’s nothing I can say to change your mind one way or the other.”

-“Then why are you here?” He asks suspiciously.

-“Because you’re lonely, and it makes the Force feel sad.” The answer is so blunt, so sure of itself. Qui Gon feels his stomach twist, and old anger makes him snappish without meaning to be (he’s heard of this boy as well, he’s heard that he’s got a manipulative streak and a tendency to twist his Force empathy to his own ends, he’s heard many things).

-(Qui Gon forgets that it is not a good idea, to base judgement on rumors) “I am not, and if I was, I would not need your company to ease it.”

-Obi-Wan Kenobi, Initiate of the Jedi Temple Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Sage and Healer King and Accursed, tilts his head thoughtfully, then nods and stands up, “Then I will take my leave. Take care of yourself, Master Jinn.”

-Initiate Kenobi Ardyn the Accursed and Healer King walks away, and a breath later the Living Force twists, like the snapping of cables, and Qui Gon gets the fleeting, distinct impression that he has failed some kind of very important test.

-Ardyn is assigned to the AgraCorps. A life as a farmer for others awaits him.

-The day before he’s to be shipped off, he walks out one of the Temple’s side-entrances and into the underbelly of Coruscant with only the clothes on his back. He doesn’t look back even once. It takes until the next day for anyone (for his friends, if he can call them friends when they are so much YOUNGER and painfully more innocent than him) to miss him. It takes another day for the Jedi to realize Obi-Wan Kenobi is well and truly missing.

-Deep in Coruscant’s seedy side, at the dockyards manned by those who are less than concerned with legality, a boy in ratty (stolen) clothes asks to be taken aboard as a maintenance worker. He calls himself Ardyn Izunia, and there are no Force Sensitives close enough to feel the sunlike fire burning in his blood as he smiles.

-Skip forward several years and Satine Kryze (Aera) is on the run from Death Watch, civil war is on the horizon and her father asks for Jedi protection to keep her safe.

-The bounty hunter who calls himself Adagium finds her first.

-A sword that glitters like blood and cuts through metal like a lightsaber (that hums-hums-hums with magic none but a Force sensitive can see blazing like bloody fire down the ancient blade) finishes off the Death Watch assassin that Satine hadn’t had the chance to shoot yet, and under his hood, Adagium smiles. Satine stills, head tilted as if listening, then she collapses into the teenage bounty hunter’s arms in joyous tears. Adagium- Ardyn- holds her close and cries with her.

- “I finally found you, My Aera,” he breathes and for a moment he lets his magic loose and it burns like the sun through the Force, lancing through the growing shadows in the Force like they’re fragile paper and somewhere far away Sidious feels Doom™ crawl violently up his spine.

-Aka that Fixit AU where Aera is a Mand’alor that DOES want peace for her people but NOT at the cost of burning history to the ground (or being defenseless, she has died to the sword once already she will not go quietly into the night a second time, not if she has to paint the walls in blood to protect her life and the lives of her people), the Jedi are Confused™, and Ardyn is incredibly content to be Aera’s former bounty hunter trophy husband with a tendency to adopt strays (read: Anakin and Shmi who he frees as well as Anakin kthanks, and quite possibly Savage and Feral too tho no one is quite sure how) until the Clone Wars start and Ardyn takes one (1) look at the war and goes: ah. I know this plan. This is a stupid plan. And all of Sidious’s plans go fwoosh.

-Because I’m sorry but there is no way you can convince me that Ardyn wouldn’t EAT SIDIOUS ALIVE in any kind of fight, mental, physical, Force, or tactical. This man is 2k years old. It took Sidious until he was an old sack of bones to get his Empire and that was with GENERATIONS of Sith serving as his foundation, and then he got yote down a reactor shaft by his minion 19-25 years later. Ardyn was able to manipulate an entire Empire into engineering its destruction and fulfill ALL HIS REVENGE GOALS (giving Bahamut a headache, driving the world to darkness and ruin, and ending the line of Lucis Caelum INCLUDING HIMSELF) in like- 30-40 years. While MENTALLY AND PHYSICALLY ILL thanks to the Scourge. Fully healthy and in control of himself and with people (Aera) to protect? Sidious would just be fresh meat.

-Also Ardyn adopts a bunch of the clones, possibly all the clones, on the excuse that since they were raised by Mandalorian trainers they count as Mandalorians and as genetic sons of Jango Fett that makes the Mandalorian CITIZENS by BIRTHRIGHT and the Republic can only watch in confusion as their army gets mass adopted by the Mand’alor’s trophy husband who also exposed their new Chancellor as a Sith. Bail Organa, the new Chancellor, may or may not be sweating quietly at the thought of accidentally gaining the ire of the so called Trophy Husband because he’s smarter than most and knows that Ardyn is Very Very Dangerous.

-Also also Qui Gon doesn’t die somehow because I do really like him and I think he’s a good Jedi, just not a good fit for Ardyn as a master.

[tealquacks]

The Flowers of Tenebrae

for the first day @lunoctweek , also posted on Ao3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720592

Enjoy!

They stopped the train to let the civilians out at Tenebrae. It was the best decision they could make, Noctis ordering the conductor to stop while Luna went through the train, healing whomever she could. And she promised each and every one of them that they would be safe in Tenebrae. They looked at her with big, hopeful eyes, and Luna felt grateful to be alive in that moment. Tenebrae would keep them safe. 

When the train stopped, Tenebrae burned.

Ash fell like snow from the darkened sky, smoke billowing in thick clouds. Luna could almost see the fire burning, nestled in the heart of the castle she once called home. The civilians rushed off the train in a confused hoard, a few of them bumping into her. She didn’t move. She could hear their panicked whispers, children crying, and her home burned.

Luna closed her eyes and tried to imagine the place she’d grown up loving, the place she’d met Noct at, but no matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes and prayed to gods who didn’t seem to listen, she still smelt the smoke. It burned her lungs. Just like drowning. For a moment, her mind took her back to the shrine to Leviathan, a wall of water slamming into her as the world around her crumbled like a pastry, not being able to breathe, lungs burning.

Her legs had carried her across the bridge from the train station. Mud squelched under her shoes as she walked, the feathery petals of Sylleblossoms leaving dew drops on her pants. People walked around in an almost casual way, as if her home wasn’t burning, as if she hadn’t lied to all these people, told them they’d be safe and protected. If fate was written by the gods, she’d have to have a word with them. Curing the scourge was one thing, but endangering the lives of all these innocents…

“Luna?” Noct asked quietly. Luna flinched as he set his hand on her shoulder, then sighed. She took his hand.

“I’m okay, love, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Blasphemous things,” she said solemnly. Noctis laughed awkwardly, as if she was joking. Maybe he was just trying to lighten the mood.

He squeezed her hand in his.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I… I’ve lost my home, too, and it hurts so much. And well, uh, I didn’t move on? But I tried to ignore it, since I had to. It sucks.”

Luna couldn’t help but give an amused chuckle, gently squeezing Noct’s hand back. Noct never was good with words, awkward at the best of times, but he was always sincere. 

“I don’t know what upsets me more,” Luna mumbled, “seeing my home burn, or knowing that these people have to travel even more just to be safe.”

Noct let go of her hand, instead setting both of his hands on her shoulders. They felt warm, even through the fabric of the black jacket she wore. He looked at her with a soft expression— thats all she could think of it as. Not pitying, or sad, just soft. 

“Luna, I am so, so sorry. If it makes you feel any better, though, Aranea is going to get these people out of here. She has a drop ship, and can get them somewhere safe. After that, we can start making our way to Graela, the Crystal—“

“—and I can give the Draconian a piece of my mind,” Luna interrupted. Noct made a face.

“Huh?”

She looked at Noct. Noct stepped forward, one of his hands setting itself at the small of her back. She stepped forward, letting Noct envelop her in a warm, familiar hug, the smell of the outdoors plastered to his pale skin. She buried her face in his shoulder, trying to get the smoke out of her nose. Noct gently pet her hair, occasionally tangling his fingers in the silky strands.

“Please don’t do anything stupid,” he mumbled. Luna couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe I am a good influence on you,” Luna said. Noct huffed.

“I’m serious, dear… why the Draconian, though?”

Luna breathed out against Noct’s shoulder. 

“Bahamut is the one who wove this fate of ours, the one who planned all. I was meant to die while making the covenant with Leviathan, and yet, I survived. I’m afraid that the lives of these people are at risk because I avoided fate. When I confront the Draconian, I will tell him to leave the people alone.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

“Luna,” Noctis whispered. She felt his breath against her ear.

“I am the people’s Oracle. A healer. It is my duty to protect the innocent, no matter what the cost is. If it is my own life, then so be it.”

Noct squeezed her even tighter, and she could feel him tremble ever so slightly.

“Yes, you’re their Oracle, but you’re my Luna,” he said hoarsely, “the Luna who told me all I know about gods and stars and all that. The Luna that showed me all the secret places in Tenebrae, the Luna who sent me messages and pressed sylleblossoms in a book, the Luna who can talk to gods without flinching,” Noct’s voice wavered as he sniffled against her, “my best friend, the love of my life. My Luna. I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself.”

“Me neither,” Luna said, voice thick with tears.

“If Bahamut is going to hurt people just because we don’t do what he says,” Noct whispered intensely, “then let’s kill him.”

Luna pulled away from his arms, blinking up at him in shock. He had that determined look on his face, the one he got while fighting Leviathan, or when they were playing Kings Knight on the train. Any question of his sincerity died on her lips. When Noct got that look, he would do whatever he could to reach his goal.

“Noct—“

“—We can commune with the other gods. Tell them that we don’t want to follow Bahamut’s fate. Convince them to join us, fight with us—“

“Noct.”

“I’m being serious, Luna, I mean, Gladio, Prompto, Iggy, you and I could certainly fuck up a god—“

“Adagium could help us.”

Noct stared at her in a way that made her wonder if there was anything behind those eyes of his. 

“Who?”

Luna sighed. 

“Adagium. The carrier of the scourge, the accursed one. Ardyn Izunia.”

Noct froze.

“No way.”

“Yes, way,” Luna replied.

“And here I thought he was a creepy old guy!” Noctis exclaimed. Luna smiled, tilting her head a little bit.

“Well, you got that part right. He’s an immortal creepy old guy. So the next time we meet him, we must make it known we’re keen on killing the Draconian.”

“And what do we do until then?”

Luna sighed. She looked at the burning ruins of her home, then down to her feet. Even amongst the ruin, Sylleblossoms grew from the wet earth, as bright and persistent as ever. Just like they did when they were children, and somehow Luna knew that they always would be there. Even if it wasn’t quite the same, the flowers would dot the land of Tenebrae. 

She crouched down, and gently plucked a sylleblossom from the earth.

“We stand by one another, my love.” 

Noct gently took the flower from her hand, a small smile gracing his face. He leaned in, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“We will, we’ll be together. No matter what.”

He said it like a promise. Luna looked over at the burning castle of Tenebrae, then back at Noct. 

She kissed him as softly as she could, their lips hardly ghosting together, and thought of a perfect world where every promise would be kept, and every flower would bloom forever.

[viisiond]

it’s ardyn time...

Name: Ardyn Lucis Caelum Ardyn Izunia Alias: The Accursed, Adagium, Darkness of the Legends Element: N/A (Uses Abyssal energy) Type: Sword Affiliations: Khaenri’ah, Fatui

2,033 years old, apart of the founding family of Khaenri’ah known as ‘the healer’, born with the power to cure any ailments within his kingdom and take them upon himself- though being the eldest of two children, his brother Somnus stole the throne from underneath him, locking him away somewhere within Teyvat for years to come.

Ardyn had been cursed by the gods for his work in healing those within Khaenri’ah, taking his power and turning it into one that would spread the abyss instead of heal.

By this time, Ardyn has been all but erased from Khaenri’ah’s history by his brother.

2 years before the start of the main timeline, Ardyn was found and taken in by the Fatui. In exchange for their assistance in freeing him, Ardyn assists with matters with the Abyss and the Abyss order along with other matters like negotiations, Envoys and being an advisor to the Tsaritsa. The Chancellor of Snezhnaya so to speak.

Charismatic, charming and quite the gentleman- Ardyn is manipulative and KNOWS how to get his way, managing to not only trick those he works with/for but the entire kingdom into thinking he’s someone else.

Now he’s looking to bring Khaenri’ah back from the abyss in order to rule in place of ‘their last hope’, he doesn’t care for Kaeya or the Alberich line- but he does know that Kaeya never asked for the role he plays now with Khaenri’ah...

Ardyn is just living the world’s longest suicide, all he wants at this point is to pass- throne or not...but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous- keep your friends close and enemies closer.

[aerisleis-fics]

Every time I think I want to start posting bits of this massive FFXV fic as I write, I come up with something I want to do in the early chapters that isn't done, and thus can't. But its currently... 40k words and it represents a ... strongly worded request for custody of the characters because every damn one deserved better. It's also a bit of a love letter I guess because nothing short of adoring the world and characters could make me write 40k words.

I am of course also still working on my other in-progress pieces (and later today I will be posting some updates because I realized my last few things on A03, including a Wingbeat of a Butterfly chapter... were not posted here. Whoops!

Those who may be interested in the FFXV project are welcome to read below the cut for more details!

These are the currently written summaries for the 3 parts of the fic.

Series Description:

Threads of Fate is an alternative universe built around several changes to Canon and dedicated to exploring the bonds between Noctis and his friends. Part one: Dawn of the Chosen King covers Noctis’ childhood through his teen years to graduation. The next two parts Light of the Oracle and The King and Adagium are alternate paths that branch slightly before Canon begins. Reading one or the other is fine - or both, if you’re curious about both angles. Light of the Oracle is the ending I originally envisioned, and The King and Adagium was inspired by my friend Ryusan9 (@myanimebullshit on tumblr).

Summary: Dawn of the Chosen King

Part one of Threads of Fate! Noctis was Chosen as the King of Kings when he was only a child, but he has a long, long road to walk before it’s time to take his place. Follow Noctis as he grows and learns alongside his closest friends - but those that one is told to trust are not always as friendly as they seem.

Summary: Light of the Oracle

Part two of Threads of Fate! Noctis is pulled ever onward by the fate that the gods have decreed for him. Noctis is sent forth from Insomnia to meet Lunafreya in Altissia, where he is to be wed. But the best-laid plans of men oft go awry, and Regis’ plan is no different. Plunged directly into conflict with the Empire, Noctis is in a race against the clock to fulfill the prophecy that has been hanging over him since early childhood.

Summary: The King and Adagium

An alternate path for Threads of Fate! Can be read instead of, or in addition to, Light of the Oracle, but Dawn of the Chosen King is still its prequel!

Noctis and Ardyn have had their fates decreed to them by Bahamut, and they are driven ever onward towards the ending laid out for them. But what if the Chosen King and his decreed enemy chose to weave their own fate? With the clock ticking, and the Astrals demanding the pair play their parts in the prophecy, the King and the Accursed strike an accord, and within that accord a new future is born.

[feratu]

[sparklecryptid]

Okay, so. This is because I kept wondering how the meeting between ventrue!Regis and tzimisce!Jean would go, and I kept getting the mental image of Jean sauntering into the Citadel, dressed in flannel, wearing the Hat, and whistling Ardyn’s theme. 

There are rules. There are formalities, to the meeting of two unknown Kindred. And Regis, apparently, intends to follow them to the letter - most likely because said formalities will grant him a glimpse into Jean’s background. 

At least, that’s presumably why they are exchanging oh-so-genial smiles across a table in a small, relatively private meeting room, rather then in the Great Hall of the Citadel. Regis sits at one side of the table, the Lord Shield at his right hand, the Lord Marshal to his left, and behind him, a smattering of unfamiliar individuals. Or, rather, the Prince, his Seneschal, and his Sheriff, with the Primogen and other important Kindred clustered in the back - this is Elysium, not the Throne Room, and as such the rules are subtly different.

“I greet you, you who are unknown to my Domain.” Regis begins, and his words are as formal as his eyes are sharp. “I am Regis, son of Mors, son of Crepera, of the Clan Ventrue. Be welcome in Elysium, you who are unknown to me.”

Jean hasn’t stopped smiling since he walked -  of his own free will and violation - into the Citadel. He does not stop smiling now. “Greetings, Regis, son of Mors, of the Clan Ventrue. I am Jean, son of the Plaguebearer, of the family Tzimisce.”

There is an indrawn (unnecessary) breath from the cluster of Insomnian Kindred as Jean confirms his Clan; the Fiend ignores it, the majority of his focus dedicated to the impassive Regis. Regis, who will have gathered several facts in quick succession from their brief exchange - by his use of ‘son’, Jean is indicating that he was born, not bitten into this Unlife - and thus shares the same generation as his father. By his use of 'family’, Jean is further implying that he regards both his Sire and Childer as family - not as Clan. It is a subtle distinction, but it is a distinction nonetheless.

Also, Jean has absolutely no doubt that Regis will be scouring his memory and his archives (as soon as he gets a moment) for any mention of a Fiend with the sobriquet of 'Plaguebearer’. And while Ardyn may hate that title - Jean is not about to give his father’s enemies any indication of his true identity. 'Plaguebearer’ is - both unfortunately accurate and suitably ominous, while lacking the distinct histories associated with 'Adagium’ or 'Accursed’. 

“You stand accused of violating the Traditions, Jean of the Tzimisce.” Regis’s voice is sonorous, as if he is reading from a book of epic poetry rather then leveling accusations. “You have come into my Domain without introducing yourself to its Lord.” Namely Regis himself. “You have created Progeny without first asking my leave. What have you to say to these charges?”

Jean spread his hands. “I am not a citizen of Insomnia, oh Prince of Lucis. Neither am I Lucian. I possess no Haven within the limits of your Domain; I own no property, and feed not upon your Kine. I come as a traveler only; here and gone within the span of a handful of nights. Must a traveler pay homage to the Prince if his presence is brief and his travels ceaseless?”

Not strictly true. Jean was in Insomnia for work, more often then not, and to visit Nyx and the glaive he had claimed as his own - but this was politics, not truth. 

“And as for the charge of creating progeny”, Jean continued, “I was not in Lucis when I took them into the Embrace. Glaive Crowe Altius, my carnage-crow, was near to death upon the plains of Accordio when I ushered her from one life to the next. Glaive Luche Lazarus, my dark flame, was within my Haven, in the lands of Tenebrae, when I took him into the Night. Where they chose to make their Havens and where they chose to spend their loyalty and service is their decision only, and I would not impinge upon it.”

“It was given to us to understand that Glaive Altius and Glaive Lazarus were of the Clan Gangrel. Not the Family Tzimisce.”

Jean blinked innocently at the assembled Kindred. “Did anyone ever ask?”

Yes! Just! Yes! I love this all so much! and Jean just going ‘Did anyone ever ask?’ Because it’s not his fault that they assumed and if its one thing Jean has learned it’s never to assume.

And later I can imagine Regis trying to dig up anything on a Kindred with the title Plaguebearer and finding very little but what he does find is enough to make him wary and very glad that he didn’t make Jean an enemy.

[royalbratprince]

[From here because thinking that I actually control the muse is ridiculous.]

@pyrelight:

What folly was this, that he should inhabit this same space as the Draconian’s Chosen King of Kings, the one fated by decree of Bahamut to save the world from the blight of Bahamut’s creation? By what manner of madness did he now find himself standing before the small spec of a man, no more than a boy who held a burning star within his breast that, as all stars must do, would burn him from the inside out and snuff his life as if he were no more than a candle’s flame?

No fire burned save for the fire in the Infernian’s eyes, a blaze that would die only with the end of his life. He towered, though not near so large as Ramuh or Leviathan, staring imperiously down at the human who dared address him so casually.

Did he have anything to do with Bahamut’s plans?

“No.”

The answer remained short, succinct, yet true enough, growled out into the air around them. He had been as the Accursed Adagium now was: a consequence, a pawn, to the King Astral’s insidious plot to a game that none knew the rules of.

Nor did any know the reason for it.

“Oh.”

One question answered.  A wealth of others opening, but immediately it seemed like he shouldn’t ask.  Like there was no interest in answering, which... whether this was all a dream or not, he kinda got.  It couldn’t be reality, in any case, since looking up at the enormous, powerful being didn’t inspire any fear.  A little awe, of course, but mostly Ifrit just felt like... company.

But the eerie misty “dream world” around him didn’t flicker or fade when he thought about it, and he felt no closer to waking up.  Still there, with a very present Astral, getting the weird feeling that he was actually being looked at.  By something alive and thinking, not a dream being or a hallucination.

“Well that’s... good, I guess.”  Noctis continued awkwardly, sparing very little energy to worry about it.  Any of it.

But he wasn’t being attacked or crushed or waking up in a cold sweat or anything, so.  “So you kinda got screwed over because of this whole prophecy too, huh?”

[astralbcrn]

"People rarely do," he offered, because few would sacrifice themselves unless they felt obligated to do so. Right now, Cor was only considering it because it might save those he care about, without that kind of motivation he would be just like the rest.

Eyeing the Marshal for a long moment, Bahamut idly suspects that the man is hoping for a miracle. "Perhaps," he starts out, gaze drifting to the side. "Noctis would not be Chosen if it was not for the fact that Niflheim decided to release Adagium from its shackles," he allowed himself to admit, idly wondering what the boy would do with the information.

"If the Adagium was sealed once more... why, the King and Prince would be safe, but someone else would take their places. Besides, the Empire would see them both dead, with or without divine intervention," so the Accursed should be sealed and the Empire defeated; no small task to ask for.

"Adagium is bound to the realm beyond by the Crystal. To fully get rid of the darkness upon our star, it has to be purged there as well. A place that can only be reached in death. With the Power of Kings, the Chosen one is capable of accomplishing this. If not, our star will succumb to eternal darkness." If Cor could think of a better solution, then by all means, Bahamut was all ears. His goal was to rid the world of the Scourge, no matter the cost.

"Not unwilling, but they didn't choose it, either," he answered, this time frowning slightly. The messenger was twisting his words, and possibly intentionally.

He didn't believe for a second that Regis hadn't pled and prayed for his son to be spared, either. He didn't believe he was the first one standing there.

He'd long been of the opinion that the gods were cruel, but apparently their messengers were, too.

He was prepared to forfeit his life if he needed to, but doing so for no reason would not help anyone. "Please, just tell me. Is there any other way?"

[charlottedabookworm]

...if i wanted to be really cruel, i’d write a fic where ardyn managed to escape angelguard centuries pre-canon, when the chains rusted enough to break free, and he washes up on the shore of the mainland eventually and he just. he lives his life. he tries to help people and he adapts and maybe he falls in love again or maybe he doesn’t because he’s still grieving aera but he definitely has a bunch of kids - mostly orphans - who follow him around like ducklings and he isn’t their dad but he’s close enough honestly. 

so ardyn lives his life, raising his kids, and maybe helping them with their kids, and he’s a healer and a doctor because centuries have passed and ardyn never really wanted to be king, not really, and the line of lucis is doing fine without him. and yeah, he isn’t aging, but he’s recovering and he’s doing alright and he’s adjusting. it isn’t perfect, but it’s good

ardyn lives his life and, for a couple decades, maybe even a century or so, he’s happy

ardyn is happy

he’s happy

but then lucis hears the rumours of a man who can heal, and maybe bahamut directs them in his direction maybe he doesn’t, but they come looking and they find adagium - because ardyn isn’t human to them, not really, he’s just a monster in human form that they are supposed to keep confined - and he’s escaped and they didn’t know but now they do, well

ardyn is dragged, kicking and screaming and leaving a trail of bodies probably from his family and his happy life, back to angelguard

where they chain him back up in the darkness and the silence and the memories and they leave him

but they up the guard so that he can't escape again

not until niflheim and besithia and episode ardyn

not until his kids and their kids and their kids kids are long dead and he is completely alone once more

how many times can a man rebuild himself?

and the ardyn that escapes a second time? he’s not just broken, he’s sharp angry edges and it’s all directed at lucis - who took his family from him a second time, who are responsible for his confinement, who shattered him

the ardyn who escapes - is freed - isn’t a healer, not anymore

ardyn is freed and he’s the accursed - not the healer king, not a doctor, not a father

ardyn is freed and he is determined to be every inch the monster they claim him to be

and that is why he submits to bahamut; it means an ending for himself and revenge on the line of lucis and ardyn wants both more than anything

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Bitter Night Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ardyn Izunia | Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Kings Guard, The Fulgurian | Ramuh, Celestia Ulric Tags: Time Travel, Fix-It Of Sorts, Angst, Hurt, Comfort Eventually, Ardyn and Noctis are both Assholes, Fuck the Gods Summary: He hadn’t known what he was doing. All he knew was that he felt bitter in this endless night–bitter that the story needed to end like this. It felt like the Bad Ending and–well, Noctis hated getting Bad Endings in his games. He refused to.

So Noctis refused.

Out of all Astrals only one never demanded anything of Noctis. Only one of the Six didn’t speak to him in riddles or set forth a challenge that he near couldn’t complete or tried to kill or devour him. Only one, aside from perhaps the Draconian, did not sleep and require Lunafreya to waken—and Noctis felt all the more grateful toward the end that Luna hadn’t needed to commune with Ramuh; needed to begin to forge a Covenant for Noctis with the Fulgurian. Noctis didn’t want to imagine what the lightning would’ve done to her if she had needed to—how it would’ve soaked into her bones and blood and left her with tremors. Noctis could remember the feel of it as it lit him alight, the buzz beneath his skin as the storm raged around them—a little like home, really.

Now—now that silence burned like a sickness in Noctis as he stared, and stared, and Ramuh stared back. The clouds hung in the sky, but no storm followed the Stormsender. The men of Lucis kept back and away from the God, and the crackle of lightning that formed a clear line between Noctis, Ardyn, and them out of reverence or respect or fear—Noctis didn’t care which. He cared for Ramuh to answer him. Angelgard had been a prison of Ramuh’s undertaking, or so the Cosmogeny would have Noctis believe. Angelgard was a place where Ramuh Judged, and all who were found wanting Perished and yet Ardyn alone remained chained, in the dark, and tortured with the light of the sun. Noctis wanted to know—viscerally and in a way he couldn’t explain—he wanted, no, needed—

Noctis needed to know—was Ramuh complicit? Did Ramuh know of what the line of Lucis had done to the First? Did Ramuh care that Ardyn—a healer chosen by the people, chosen by the Six, suffered for the crime of merely existing now? If Ramuh did how could he condone it—unless he ate up the same cock and bull story that the Draconian tried to feed Noctis in the Crystal, that the Glacian told to him with the touch of frost in her wake, so cold that one couldn’t even think. Ramuh kept his silence and it burned with Noctis.

“STORMSENDER!” Noctis roared. “ANSWER ME!”

The Glaives whispered, shocked, but Noctis ignored them. He kept bright, pink eyes upon the God even as his strength wavered and his hands shook. His legs were numb and he wanted to fall—to crumble to the ground and cry because this? This, here? This was not the Lucis he thought to inherit. He knew that Ardyn had been wiped from history—there was no record of Somnus Lucis Caelum ever having a brother except in the deepest, darkest pits and tombs long forgotten. History ignored Ardyn and remembered only the Accursed—remembered Adagium. It set wrong with Noctis, that bitter pill of truth that his family had essentially removed such a crucial part of their history—and why? Why had the Founder denied the First? It made no sense, to Noctis, to write a man out of history so completely.

Ramuh bowed his head, and then reached a hand down, gaze settled on Noctis first, and then alighted upon Ardyn’s downed form with a sluggishly bleeding headwound. Noctis tensed, ground his teeth together, and let out a sharp, “YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM!”

Ramuh paused. For a second there was blissful silence, and then the storm rumbled on the distance and the God settled back. He blinked lazily down at Noctis and Noctis felt only grateful that there were no words, like the Archeon, that trembled through his mind and left him with a blazing headache that sparked on the edge of seizing. He felt grateful that there was no cold to draw his mind into a sluggish haze, or water with which to drown him followed by the high, cackling nature of the Astrals’ first language—or even Ifrit’s fire as it burned around and through him. Ramuh’s words were as silent as the god himself—but they were there. Noctis could feel them, like impressions in the blood.

Ardyn was not guilty, Noctis realized, which alone was the reason why the man still stood and Ramuh did not reign down Judgement upon him. He could not interfere within the prison elsewise—it was for mortals to do, to take the innocent from this place once affirmed that they would not be Judged, and it was the mortals that failed. None stepped on the island now as Ramuh would find them wanting anyway—since they refused to treat upon a man as a man, and instead signaled him daemon. Noctis wondered if Ramuh alone could’ve wiped Ardyn away if he cast down his Judgement, if Ardyn were truly within the wrong, where the Glacian could freeze and shatter the man only for him to return healthy, hale, and otherwise unharmed.

Noctis glanced to Ardyn and then back to Ramuh. “Are you certain?” he asked, voice softer, hoarser. His palms were sweaty around his blade and slipped along the hilt for a second. It jerked Noctis downward and nearly undid his precarious balance. Ramuh leaned forward and Noctis looked to Ardyn again, and then back to the God of Storms. A second later Noctis closed his eyes and murmured, “Very well,” and the God reached out. Noctis did not fight the hand that grasped him, even as his strength left him. He did not fight as the God pulled him up and into the Storm that now began to pelt the ground below.

Sleep, whispered the winds, and Noctis found himself so very tired. He felt uncomforted to let his life rest in the hands of any of the Six—but Ramuh was the Storm and the Storm was in Noctis’ blood, even if he knew so very little of it. There was a reason why Ramuh deigned not to send a test after the King of Light beyond to seek out his sigils in the storm, the signs of his presence to awaken the lightning in his blood.

Noctis drifted, and then slept.

King of Light, Son of Storms, Chosen to Right the Wrongs Past—the words echoed like a lazy haze when Noctis woke up, surrounded by heat and warmth. He knew within a second that he was not upon Angelgard, or within Lucis, the minute he opened his eyes and gazed at the simple furnishings above him. There were suncatchers of the likes that Noctis could remember a scant few times in the poorer districts of Insomnia—and tangles of beaded twine that hung around them, near the window. Outside Noctis could see green and light—and he pushed himself upward to sit for a moment, the stared down at his legs when they refused to initially move.

“Right,” Noctis mumbled. He’d forgotten the sudden paralysis that came after his foolhardy decision to fuck Bahamut and his shitty destiny. Granted Noctis had never thought his ability to walk would last forever—whatever Lady Sylva had done to grant him return of his legs would not be permanent, not after a year of damage left to fester. There were times were Noctis found he couldn’t even use them, although often the pain and immobility were temporary.

With a tired sigh Noctis grabbed one leg, and then the other, and moved them over toward the edge of the bed. He tried to look around the room, to find a way more dignified than a crawl to get from the bed to the door, but nothing jumped out at him. Noctis bit his lip and scowled with the pent-up feeling of frustration that curdled in his gut. Just when he finally began to work himself past the sting to his pride at the thought that he must drag himself to the door, it swung open.

The woman on the other side of the door had a dark head of thick hair wrapped into a loose singular braid over her shoulder. Noctis could count within three flat coins that were attached to the tie at the end of the braid. Her eyes were wide in surprise, faint age lines drawn thin as everything about her seemed to stretch—and then she huffed and set the basket down.

For a second Noctis hadn’t even realized the woman had spoken, until she repeated her words in clear and concise Lucian, “How are you feeling?”

Noctis eyed her, let his lip go from between his teeth, and then breathed out heavily. The woman took this as a response, hummed lightly, and looked him over shrewdly. She bent over and began to rummage through the basket until she pulled out a cloth and a jar—sweetwater, Noctis realized when the faint lavender and berry scent hit his nose—and carefully dipped the cloth before she reached out with her hand.

“May I?”

Noctis cautiously inclined his head. With a smile the woman shifted closer and began to drag the cloth down his arm from his elbow. Noctis watched the motion and felt the faintly magical touch of the water like little pinpricks of energy. After a second Noctis dragged his gaze back toward her face. He waited until she moved onto his other arm before Noctis asked, “Which island?”

It didn’t take much for Noctis to place where he was; the little charms, beads, and coins coupled with the sweetwater told him everything he needed to know really. The fact that he had drawn upon Ramuh when he was dangerously close to stasis—after already pulling on his connection with the Glacian to frost over Ardyn’s chains—left Noctis with little worry about where he found himself. Instead what really worried him now was where Ardyn was. Obviously not in this room—obviously—

“The Stormsender brought you to the mainland,” the woman said lightly. “It has been three days. Your brother still yet sleeps.”

Noctis blinked. Brother? She meant Ardyn; she had to have meant Ardyn. Thinking about it they did look a bit like brothers—although Ardyn wore the stain of the Scourge on his skin. If Noctis ignored that, imagined the man with dark hair and pale blue eyes, he could see the resemblance that two-thousand years and a hundred generations couldn’t quite erase. Beyond even that weren’t they brothers, in a way? Chosen tools of Bladekeeper and his vaunted Prophecy and all of that utter nonsense that made Noctis want to curl his lips into a sneer.

Instead the King of Light looked over the woman and let none of his festered thoughts show on his face. “He’s alright?” Noctis asked, voice faint, and he tilted his head to the side as the woman moved to rub the cloth along his neck. It brought the faintest curl of an uncomfortable grimace to his face, and he debated the merit of telling her to just stop—but the water felt nice against his skin and he could see the stubborn look in the faint lines on her face.

“He rests,” she said, dipped the cloth back into the sweetwater, and rubbed at the other side of Noctis’ neck. “Although not peacefully.”

Noctis sighed and tilted his head the other direction. He said a short, “Thank you,” aware that it edged just toward the side of being rude. The woman clucked her tongue and Noctis continued, “Madam…?” and he left the sentence leading as she pulled back and looked him up and down.

“Ulric,” Madam Ulric said, faintly approving. “Celestia Ulric.” Carefully Madam Ulric packed away the sweetwater and cloth and got back to her feet. “My husband will be back from his Hunt shortly. I will come and collect you then.”

Noctis ducked his head down, then frowned as he tightened his grip on his legs. He still couldn’t feel it aside from maybe a faint pressure, and even then Noctis couldn’t tell if that was his legs or his hands really that he felt the pressure from. A second later Noctis sighed heavily.

“I…can’t walk.”

Madam Ulric eyed him, then nodded. “I will have a chair for you.”

“Thanks,” Noctis mumbled as the door closed.

[secret-engima]

In the Demon in the Dark 'verse - I have a sudden mental image of the King-of-Night Noctis just. Sometimes, visiting his Uncle's grave. There wasn't anything to bury - in either universe - but there's a gravestone. Because - evil and vile and /hurting/ as he may have been, but Ardyn was a /person/, and, to Noctis's mind, deserves at least the dignity of a grave - of not being brushed over or forgotten. Noctis is - really the only person who visits, but he does visit, sometimes. (cont)

hamelin-born said: (cont). And maybe it isn't an empty grave, maybe it's an empty tomb - erected as much to the memory of the Ardyn-that-was as it is to the Accursed-he-became. Maybe it's a monument to both Ardyn's - the one from Noct's home 'verse, and this one's Night King. Either way - it sits on a hill overlooking the sunset, in an area bathed equally in sunlight and shade. It's quiet. It's peaceful. 'Ardyn Lucis Caelum' is carved on the tomb - 'Brother of Somnus, Beloved of Aera, King of Light, King of Night'

hamelin-born said: (cont) No one - other than Noctis - from canon!verse visits the Accursed's empty tomb. Once or twice - others tag along. Prince Regis (and perhaps his retinue) followed Noctis, once, when he went to visit his Uncle's tomb. And perhaps Queen Sylvia, during her visit - their reactions would have been. Interesting. Noctis brings flowers, sometimes - flowers to *plant* around the empty tomb, and, occasionally - a hat.

....

Me: *sniffles* oh no I’m a FEEL™.

Yes. He does. His brothers look at him sadly, not understanding why, but understanding that he feels he needs to do this. The daemons watch as he oversees the construction of a tomb on a hill mere feet outside Insomnia’s magic clouds that overlooks the sunset, a place of endings and beginnings, sunlight and shadow. It is a beautiful tomb, simple but clean, and Noctis has no body to bury, but inside it is not empty.

Inside it is filled with flowers.

Fresh flowers, LIVE flowers, because Noctis constructed the ceiling out of a special kind of glass that cannot be seen through, but gathers sunlight well enough. There is a water system running through it, carefully feeding the flowers inside and filling the silence with a soft babble of the things the water has seen as it travels out of the tomb and toward the sunlit sea. Noctis visits regularly, to weed the garden and push magic into the flowers to keep them healthy and strong.

The flowers are Sylleblossoms. HIS Sylleblossoms, from his world, not the glowing, magical things of this world. No one but Gladiolus knows where he got them, because he was the only one around with eyes to see that day before the Long Night, when they stopped in Tenebrae and Noctis had hesitantly accepted a small packet of seeds from the old servant woman he spoke with. They are unlike any other flower in this world, and the only place to find them is here in the tomb and the hillside on which is lies.

In the tomb, on the far wall from the door, is an empty coffin, made half from obsidian and half from pure ivory all swirled together into patterns of dark and light. On the coffin reads a small plaque: In memory of Ardyn Lucis Caelum. Brother of Somnus, Beloved of Aera, Healer, Accursed.

Chosen King of Dawn.

It is a quiet place, and Noctis does not speak when he is inside it tending his flowers. He has only spoken once inside the tomb, the day he found an silly old hat and brought it to rest it on top of the coffin, a few years after the tomb was finished.

“I forgive you.”

He does not say more, does not explain why, does not react to the wide-eyed, tentative Regis staring into the tomb from the doorway, not daring to enter further.

Noctis turns and leaves and Regis follows, not daring to ask questions.

Regis looks over his shoulder sharply halfway down the hill when he is certain he hears someone whisper, “Thank you, Nephew.” but when he looks no one is there. When he looks back at Noctis, the Night King had not stopped his slow walk down the hill, acting as if he hasn’t heard a word.

Regis politely pretends not to notice that Noctis is now crying.

(Perhaps it is silly to shed tears for an enemy. Perhaps it is foolish to honor an Accursed. Who hurt him, who destroyed his city, who killed his father, who murdered his lover. But Noctis has never considered himself wise, and his heart has always been secretly too kind. More than that, Ardyn wasn't not always Accursed, once he was a kind man, a healer and a lover and a gentle man.

Once he was an older brother.

And Noctis, who holds the memories of over a hundred lifetimes he has never touched, cannot help but think of him, love him, as such.

So he does not visit the tomb of the Accursed, the empty resting place of the Night King and Adagium. When he enters the silence of the tomb and tends to the flowers there, spreading his magic out like a blanket of memory and affection and calm, he is visiting Ardyn Lucis Caelum. King. Healer. Friend.

Brother.

Uncle.

And even if he is the last and only person to remember those things, so long as he lives, he will not forget.

And so he visits. Just once in a while. In the gentle silence that comes from knowing there is nothing left to say.)