#Cor Leonis/Glaives (mentioned)

[andywinter16]

Traitor!Cor Leonis AU

This one was inspired by @midgarmosquito and their game theory. There is also added picture by @risingoflights that I can literally see when I wrote the last sentence of this.  And I have an excuse to write for Titus as a big brother and father/mentor.

WARNING! In this headcanon is mentioned abuse and beating.

--

- Cor was angry 15 year boy that despised war and decisions made by King Mors, like pulling the Wall to Insomnia's ramparts (he though that it was a honor to serve king, not anymore)

-  Cor started to be more bitter and cold towards everyone ( which did not escape a certain Drautos, who shared the sympathy)

-Titus took him under his wing, which blossomed into beautiful brotherhood (both of them cherish it dearly)

- It was slow and budding relationship from rivals to friends to brothers till death (Titus calls him affectionately “Little brother or tiny daemon”, Cor calls him “ Old bear or grumpy cat”, sometimes calls him “Big brother” when he´s feeling emotionally down)

- But the greatest confirmation of their brotherhood was when Cor came to Titus all bloodied and battered. Titus helped him bandage his injuries, gave him food meanwhile containging the rage inside. “Who did this to you, little daemon?” And afterwhile with choked voice came the answer. “It was my step dad. He tried to beat mum again, so ...” Titus didn´t need to hear anything else. He let Cor crash at his apartment, while he plotted. 

- Next day, Cor recieved a news that his stepfather was arrested, for what he didn´t know. He went to Titus, because he knew the older male had something to do with it. When sleepy Titus opened the door, Cor with no hesitation huggs him. “Thank you big bro, thank you so much.”  Titus never felt more alive than at this moment.

- Few years later, Cor is dissatisfied with Regis who acts as a puppet of the nobility. Especially with decisions of the reffugees, who are threated poorly and used as pawns for a war

- Titus introduced Cor to Nyx Ulric, his troublemaker protegee. Cor in private jokes with Titus that Nyx is more like his son. “Shut up, that´s not it!” “Yeah, yeah whatever you said Titus.”

- Titus takes Cor to Cavaugh more specificaly to his village. “This is where it all started for me. My quest for revenge.” Tells him about his family and friends who have died. How from loyal soldier to Crown he became the feared general Glauca of Niflheim.

- There Cor truly meets the real Titus, broken man with nothing  else to lose. And Cor doesn´t even hesitate when Titus asked him to join in their rebellion. “ You have my sword ,Titus. Whatever it takes, I am on your side.” 

- Cor met all the glaives that joined, promising them a better future. Is took by surprise by Luche Lazarus, who thanked him for everything he has done for them 

- Cor also received information about sleeping agent placed in Prince´s retinue, Titus didn´t specified it just said “ It´s insurance if anything goes wrong.”

- when the Day of Signing came, Cor did as Regis told him with exception that he joined Glauca in the fight.

Nyx´s eyes reflected pain and utter disbelief. “ Captain, Marshall ... It was you two all along.” 

- “ Forgive me, old friend.” Cor´s the one who deals the final blow to Regis. 

-  Meanwhile Titus went to fight Nyx alone while Cor was coordinating their forces (what's left of them, anyway)

- Whole fight sequence later  Cor at last came to the side of the battle, tired disolving Nyx sitting on other side of gravely injured Titus. 

- ” Titus, Titus goddamn it! Here, take the potion!” Titus stops him, his eyelids starting to feel heavy. “It´s okay little brother, you can´t help me ... “  Cor eyes started to water. “No, don´t do this to me Titus. You´re my fucking brother, the last good thing I have left.” Cor catch him by his collar. “As you were my, Cor.”

[garbria]

CorNyx 💛?

< 3

reunion kiss / relief 

Cor sighed, absentmindedly tracing the swirls on his arm. The light brown lines of his transfer mark next to light pink of his own healed soulmark scar reassured him. Nyx was alive, and hopefully in the group of refugees a few days out from Insomnia. It burned at him that he wasn’t able to go to Galahd after the attack, couldn’t even establish communication with the survivors in the chaos. He couldn’t have made another choice, not with his oaths to the Crown, but it still ate at him, that his soulmate’s home had been attacked and he couldn’t do anything about it.

He couldn’t even go look for Nyx. He hadn’t heard about the attack on Galahd until it was well over, with the clusterfuck that was trying to secure Regis and Noctis’ safety on the way back from Tenebrae. The Empire’s move on Galahd so soon after their attack on Regis and Tenebrae had caught everyone by surprise. Cor was the most senior member of the Regis’ retinue in Insomnia, so he’d been holding things down while Regis took Noctis for healing. When Clarus called about the attack on Tenebrae, Cor had scrambled to call in every available Crownsguard and Glaive to secure Regis and Noctis’ safe return. Not to mention having to deal with the unrest in the city once the news of the death of the Oracle and threat on Regis got out.

It reminded Cor why he hated politics and politicians as much as he did. He dealt much better with problems he could stab.

At least his connection with Nyx reassured him that Nyx was alive, despite the reports of the devastation of Galahd. 

He never expected to find his soulmate in a teenager on a diplomatic trip with Regis. Though with how they found out - Nyx nearly getting himself killed protecting Regis - neither Regis nor Clarus were particularly surprised he and Nyx were a match.

Despite their dramatic first meeting, Cor had tried to keep his distance over the years, keeping in touch with letters and the occasional phone call. Nyx was only sixteen when they met, and Cor couldn’t involve a teenager in the mess that was his life. Nyx needed to have his own life, with his family and friends. He wouldn’t let the wolves of the Council, or worse, the press, get wind of Nyx’s existence. He could protect Nyx better than that.

They had agreed when Nyx reached his majority according to both Galahd and Lucis, they would create their matching soulmarks to formalize their bond. Cor had managed a few weeks off around Nyx’s 18th birthday, and they completed the ceremony together under the stars. Cor had been pleasantly surprised to see how much Nyx had grown into himself, and the focused look in his eyes as he drew his kukri over the trace of their design to mark Cor and himself made Cor’s breath catch. The phone calls became more frequent after that.

Until Noctis was attacked and Cor’s world became consumed with protecting the royal family and the kingdom. He hadn’t talked to Nyx since a few weeks before the Marilith attack, except for a quick return text to let Nyx know he was safe in Insomnia. Once his agents in the field reported the attack on Galahd, Cor had stolen a few moments to call Nyx, but it hadn’t gone through. He hadn’t had time to try again, not with everything falling apart around him. 

His people told him that a group of refugees from Galahd were on their way to Insomnia. If Nyx wasn’t among them, then he would leave the rest of this clusterfuck in Clarus’ hands and go find him. Regis and Noctis had been back for a few days, but security concerns were still high, worried that the Empire would continue its advance. Clarus could deal with all that without him for a few days if he didn’t get word on Nyx soon.

His phone rang, and he pulled himself out of his thoughts as he answered it. “Leonis.”

“Marshal, I’ve word that the Galahdan refugees are at the gate. Apparently, one of them is asking for you.” Monica’s voice was a calm anchor as Cor’s emotions threatened to wash over him.

They were supposed to be a few days out. How had they gotten here without him knowing? Was Nyx there?

“I’ll be right there.” Cor hung up without waiting for Monica’s response. He grabbed his jacket and strode down the hallway just short of a run only because running would cause panic that would further delay him.

The Crownsguard saluted as he drove up. He asked for the officer in charge as he walked up to the gate post. He could see a large group of people milling outside, but his view was mostly blocked by the Crownsguard holding them back.

“What’s going on here, Lieutenant?” Cor demanded.

“Sir, these people are demanding entry, but they have no immigration papers.” The lieutenant fidgeted nervously, not making eye contact with Cor.

“Your orders are to direct refugees to Refugee Resettlement, are they not?” Cor asked, his voice flat with disapproval. He knew there was anti-refugee sentiment on the rise in Insomnia, but he was not happy to see it in the ranks of the Crownsguard.

“But Sir…,” the lieutenant finally made eye contact.

“Are those not your orders?” Cor snapped. “Get these people moving.”

The lieutenant snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.” He turned and shouted orders at the other Crownsguard. Cor was gratified to see the crowd start to move slowly through the gate.

“What is it, Lieutenant?” Cor asked as the lieutenant turned back to him.

“Sir, there were some troublemakers in the group who tried to push their way through. We have a one of them in custody.” The lieutenant looked towards a closed door. “They thought to use your name to get through the checkpoint.”

Cor narrowed his eyes at the soon to be private. “And you didn’t inform me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to be troubled by people trying to take advantage,” the lieutenant said, eyes widening.

“Stand aside.” Cor stalked over to the closed door, opening it to find Nyx glaring daggers at him.

Nyx blinked in surprise as Cor stepped in and closed the door behind him.

“Cor?” Nyx sounded unsure.

“Nyx,” Cor reached out to touch him, then reconsidered. “Are you hurt?”

“Cor!” Nyx practically threw himself at Cor, burying his face in his shoulder.

Cor’s arms tightened around Nyx, and Cor felt a weight lift off his chest. Nyx was here, in his arms, in more or less one piece. “I’ve got you, you’re safe now.”

Cor could feel Nyx’s shoulders shake in his embrace as Nyx cried. He rubbed Nyx’s back with one hand, and ran the other one over Nyx’s hair.

“Cor, Mother, she-” Nyx broke off and clutched Cor tighter. 

Cor could only hold on, murmuring reassurances and berating himself for not being there to help.

Eventually, Nyx’s breathing evened out and he pulled back, but Cor didn’t let him go far. Nyx looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes. Cor used a thumb to brush the tears from Nyx’s cheek, noting the new tattoo as he did so.

Cor only had the split second warning of Nyx’s eyes dropping down to Cor’s lips before Nyx was kissing him. Cor cradled Nyx’s face as he pushed into the kiss, tasting salt and something smoky. Nyx tried to deepen it but Cor pulled back to rest their foreheads together.

He hadn’t expected their first kiss to be in the holding area of a gate post, but that was Nyx, always surprising him.

“You’re safe now, Nyx. I’ll make sure of it. You’re my soulmate and that gives you rights here.” His thumb was still absently brushing Nyx’s cheek.

Nyx grimaced. “They shoved me, threw me in here, told me there was no way trash like me would know you.”

Cor went rigid with anger. “They will pay for that, I promise.”

Nyx shook his head. “Selena tried to get involved but Lib pulled her back. They’re out there waiting for me.”

“We should go find them, then.” Cor didn’t move, enjoying the feel of Nyx in his arms.

Nyx didn’t move either. “What now?”

Cor leaned forward for one more kiss, before stepping back. “You and Selena are more than welcome to stay with me. Or I will help you find a place, if you prefer. You’re my soulmate. That makes you and Selena family. I’ll make sure you have what you need.”

Nyx shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out and brushed his fingers over where he knew Cor’s soulmark was.

Cor smiled. “You’ll always have a home with me.”

Nyx’s smile was tinged with sadness, but no less genuine for it. 

“Come on, let’s go find your sister and get you settled in.” He led Nyx out, ignoring the lieutenant and reminding himself to have Monica delete the securty footage. As well as rearrange his schedule for the day. Nyx had been through a lot, Cor was going to be there for him now.

[noirbriar]

FFXV AU: To Lead 

*yeets* Once again I apologise for plot holes and this super long ficlet. *plays long long man bgm*

prompts :  ( loyalty / magic )

——

“Ulric, its been decided. You are in charge of the Kingsglaive now.”

Stillness in the air. Cries of the wildlife in a distance. Silence.

Nyx bursts into a maniacal laughter aloud. It was long enough that Cor himself was starting to be concerned. The other Glaives and Guards are gobsmacked by the display. Regis simply blinks. While Clarus just looks tired, the lack of an arm did little to change his dour mien.

“Cor, my heart, what did you give me? This is some good shit, its making me high as fuck.” Nyx turns towards the Marshal, returning back to his native tongue in his relaxed state.The younger man leaning into his husband’s abdomen to bury his bursts of laughter. “I think I just heard the King telling me I’m gonna look after the group of idiots now.”

“You heard right. You just got promoted. Congratulations.” Cor replies in his stilted galah and pats his back.

“Damn! Faster than I had thought!” Oles Hali, one of Nyx’s glaives that had protected the King during the attack in Insomnia, curses and slaps over his gil to Crowe. The one eyed mage is absolutely gleeful, keeping her windfall while giving her newly promoted Captain a gracious salute. At least one of them is coping well with their injuries.

To be fair, Nyx was just minding his own business, resting outside the caravan. The mix of elixir, potions and medicines making him drowsy in the desert heat, as he desperately tries to ignore the incessant itch of his healing scars and his sticky skin making his borrowed hammerhead tee feel uncomfortable. 

In their bargain with the Kings of Yore, the magic embedded in the Ring had tried to absorb his life. Yet miraculously, a warm light steadily fills in his mind’s eye and the Lucii had backed off in an instant like a spooked beast. There was nothing, until the voice of the Founder King booms in the ears of King and Glaive.

“Thy soul has been claimed by divinity. A power older than the stars. Kings bow to none, but in her presence, all must yield before her grace. There may be salvation yet. Not just for the line of Lucis, but for all of Eos. Now. Wield our might, Keeper, if you can.”

All that is left as proof of the exchange, was a wide messed up web of magic burns that reached up his neck. The lines darkening, but you can see a slight sparkle at an angle, as if a reminder that this phenomenon was unnatural in itself. But he is alive, so he will gladly take that without looking at the gift Spiracorn in the mouth.

The prince and his party had already left with Cor once the Ring have been safely put in Noctis’ keep, immediately setting out to seek the Royal Tombs. The Royal heirloom oddly docile and quiet after Nyx’s had borrowed its power. Although they choose to take no chances, popping the Ring into a tiny satchel and tucked away.

The Marshal is still pissed at his King and Shield what happened prior to the Fall and the fact Regis and Clarus have kept them and the children in the dark about this entire truth of the ‘prophecy’. He was not there for the yelling but Prompto has assured him that it was nothing short of ’terrifying’. However, personal reservations aside, the grumpy man still carries on with his duty. The Kingsglaives are taking turns with others to round up the remaining Glaives and possible traitors. A few other Crownsguards like Petra Fortis are patrolling around Hammerhead. 

Despite Cid’s complaints they were freeloading, the old mechanic knows it is necessary. The King may have cut all of his magic to his men, but the cover of his supposed death may not last long.

Out of nowhere, King Regis, now dressed in normal commoner clothes with an old moogle cartoon shirt, settles into the chair next to him with his cane. Clarus slumps into the seat on his other side in a dancing cactuar patterned tee. Both Lucians boxing the Galahadian in place. Crowe and Oles keeping a slight distance, standing by quietly and alert.

Nyx is not entirely sure how. Ever since the fall and the loss of the Wall and Crystal, it is evident not only is the King a lot healthier, but his demeanour and mood had lightened considerably. As if the loss of the Crystal had returned the King to the man he remembers. Although it is obvious that the monarch is greatly worried over the prince and said Prophecy plus Astral what nots that Nyx still does not understand completely to this day. 

Poor Noctis had been so distressed and hurt, but Regis himself was equally trapped between a rock and a hard place. The prince, doomed to die for his people and a king forced to sacrifice himself and those under his rule and care… What twisted fate is this? However it seems now that his ancestors have deemed otherwise. Multiple variations of the Prophecy have been delivered that even the Oracle herself is greatly confused. So which is of it IS true? Must the Lucis Caelums and whole of Eos meet such an end?

But now is not the time to deal with the divine. They have an enemy to fight first. They will claim the Royal arms and the astrals’ blessings to reclaim their homeland. This prophecy and Starscourge can damn well wait on its ass till they are all well and ready.

It was this unusual sight that greets Cor, who had returned from his trip with the younger party searching for the nearby royal tomb. After making sure his hunter contacts would be helping his son and friends, he can now focus on his duties. Yet there they were, his brothers and his husband making small talk about nothing. Until Regis decides to dive into the crux of the subject and his purpose here.

When the King’s decree had finally sink in for the Galahdian, is when Nyx starts to feel a growing anxiety setting in.

“Why???”Nyx blinks, keeping his breathing as evenly as possible.

“Well, your loyalty to the crown for one.” Clarus grunts out, the heat and his own injuries making the old Shield even more irritable than before. “The fact that you had commandeered the remaining glaives, thwarted the ploys of a bunch of traitors’, took down Drautos to protect us with the Ring at the risk of your life…Do I need to go on?”

“Does the fact that I took things into my own hands and had a bunch of men and women following me rather than your designated chain of command not concern you??” Nyx retorts without pause.

“Nyx. Really. We have known you for years. Together with Cor no less.”

“We all knew Drautos for many damn years too, Sir.”

“Bugger was a good actor I’ll give him that.”

“How about the fact I had my men running their own investigation and literally snuck into the treaty room and-“

“All in all, in the end, it had all worked out. This decision was not made without much deliberation, Ulric. Besides, who’s putting all that extra details in a report? Most certainly not any of us here.” Regis interrupts with a soft chortle.”Therefore, congratulations Nyx Ulric. Or I should say, Captain Ulric.”

Nyx sinks deeper into his seat in confusion.

Later that evening, several hours later, Nyx wanders over to the King’s table, still in a daze.

“ No procedure or anything? I’m promoted just like that? ”

“Hmm…You have magic still in part due to the Ring, but it is best to get the proper ritual done. Since we don’t know how gracious my ancestors can be. Also quite necessary for our men to wield magic once again. But a promotion ceremony… Well, do you want that?”

“No.”

“YES!” Libertus’ voice echoes from a distance with Crowe giving a thumbs up but Nyx gives them a dirty look.

“There you have it.” Regis smiles, resuming his pleasant supper of a greasy, sloppy sandwich from Takka’s.

Nyx blanks out for a minute before he quickly turns and stomps into the wilderness, where he lets out a long yell. Which startled some of the resting Crownsguards. Cor scowls at the innocent looking King before going after the younger man. 

The Lucian had barely gotten his husband back and he just wants to keep him in one piece.

——

“I can’t do it.” Nyx mutters almost inaudibly into the Lucian’s shoulder, straddling and slumped against his partner. In his frustration, the two had wandered to a nearby haven in bid to calm down from everything. Its been a long while since the Fall that they were able to find some time to be alone to process the chaos.

“You can. You already are doing it, Nyx. Have been. In case you haven’t notice.” Cor mummers back softly, pressing a kiss on the side of his temple.

“This is different.“

“Professionally speaking, you’re doing good considering the entire shitshow.” Cor pats his back “Only thing different is more paperwork. If nothing works, just yell at them. Never fails.”

“I’m also still pissed about the shit you pulled without telling me.”

“I thought we were done with that discussion?”

“This is where we are now in our marriage, digging up old feuds.” 

“And I had apologised just as you did for your thick headed impulsiveness. You really want to pick a fight now?”

“…”

Nyx simply remained silent afterwards. He knows that Cor knows he is just being difficult without meaning to as he sorts things out in his own head.10 years of commitment and the man would a complete idiot to not recognise his own husband’s defensive behaviours. Just as Nyx knows how to deal with his husband’s own brand of bullheadedness. The couple staying in each other’s embrace, allowing themselves to be until the sky brightens and dawn greets them. Where Nyx finally gets up on his feet, pulling his spare uniform from the armiger. 

Cor just watches him fix his uniform quietly. Before the Galahadian turns and pointedly looks his hair and back to his husband. Cor nods and quietly takes his dark locks and began to braid them. A part of their morning ritual from home. Its routine and familiar, grounding them to what they inherently know.

Nyx still think’s he is not ready, the shoes of a leader too big for him to fill still, but he is going to damn well try. 

——

After a quick settlement of their own disagreements with each other once and for all ( read : fighting it out till they drop ), both Cor and Nyx sat down with Regis and Clarus. Now is no longer time for anymore secrets, and to lay everything they know on the table and separate the problems. The first was the Empire. The second was the Starscourge and Prophecy. The third were the obviously conflicting lies given to the King and the Oracle by Bahamut and the Astrals. Once they decided on a plan of action, the commanders set to work.

Despite all his protests and misgivings about being the new Commander of the Kingsglaive, once Nyx settled into a proper headspace, the man got down right to it.

The new Captain then quickly summoned every glaive, the remnants of their division for a meeting further out in Leide’s wilderness. First things first, he settles the rumours of his new status. Should anyone be against him as leader, considering the previous one was a traitor, they may approach and challenge his worthiness. Though to nobody’s surprise, none came forward.

Nyx also made it visibly clear, he knows some are unwilling to stay. The King is willing to let them retire from service but by no means abandoning them. There were many other factors in play leading to the Fall and there were greater powers in play, his inability to keep the Wall up much longer, Insomnia would have fallen eventually. As well as the Prophecy which Regis has divulged after the Fall. However, now without the Wall, the King is stronger and steadily regaining his strength, his magic stable. The prince is still alive. The Oracle safe. Insomnia might be lost, their homes taken by Niflheim. But home is not a place but its people. They will mourn for those they have lost but for now they will regroup, they will fight back or die trying. Should any of them turn their backs and become traitors, Nyx will be the first to show no mercy.

Many still remained, but those who have chosen to leave are not resentful, simply worried for their family and kin. Nyx understands, and is not worried that safety might be compromised once they depart. Cor had assured that he had already made plans to secure other safe houses and decoys in place for the King and Shield, Prince and Oracle. Soon enough the new Kingsglaive come together, less than half the original strength but it will do. Quality over quantity. Loyalty above all.

The entire backend and management took a great part of the day and some. Soon enough, the remnants of Lucian forces gather at Keycatrich and stand before the King. Royal Sigils magically carved around the perimeter with blood of the King. They have little time and risk being discovered by the empire but it must be done. They were initially concerned that the sudden expansion of Regis’ magic might deteriorate his health once again. However Regis is more aware of his own body, his mind clear, he summons his long lost armiger and assures that without the Crystal’s close proximity or the Wall, he is able and well. 

The King makes his speech to his men, addressing his failures and his determination to see Lucis through this difficult time. Nifleheim will be relentless, the Crystal taken, but Lucis is alive and strong through its people, the Oracle’s safety secured. They will fight the starscourge and for the freedom of Eos. There is hope.

The Crownsguard takes their oaths first, with the Shield and Marshal receiving the King’s armiger once more. The glow of crystal fragments fills the air with the heavy scent of ozone and magic. Soon after, he gestures the Kingsglaive forward.

“Kingsglaive, will you take your oaths to protect and defend?”

Nyx immediately notices the change in lines from the first time he had taken them. As do the others. Rather than to serve, Regis had changed their vows. The Captain steps forward and on bended knee, obliges. As do the rest of the Glaives. 

The gentle glow fills the area and into the array, enveloping them in power of the King, the energy seeping into their skin and intertwining into their bones. Like a creeping vine crawling into their being once again-

“IMPERIALS APPROACHING!!”

Ah, of fucking course. Its not a party without guests gatecrashing after all.

Nyx swears just as the familiar power finally settles within him. The Captain rises and summons his kukris with a flash of crystalline light, ready for battle. Cor strides over by his side. The entire Lucian army gets ready while Crowe and Monica covers for the King and the Shield with their teams.

“Well then. Shall we?” Nyx smirks at Cor who pulls out Kotetsu. In a flash the captain of the Kingsglaive throws and sends his kukri flying. Blade digging into the face of the first MT before he warps, charging into the fray. The rest of the Lucian army follows, the swords strike true, their magic sing.

Lucis is fighting back.

——

.

.

.

Extra:

Regis can feel his high blood pressure hitting its peak as his comms connecting to his commanders continue to deliver nothing but noisy static. While the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive watches on as their commanders decimated the last of the Imperials. With little more flare and a tad more explosives than necessary. Their initial plans gone down to Pitioss and been spat right back out.  

Beside him, Clarus looks like he is itching to be anywhere else than here. And by here, means watching their two uncontrollable menaces wreak havoc on the battlefield and trudging back like nothing is wrong in Eos. A quick glance and he see Guardsman Fortis seemingly broken, the poor regular guardsman probably did not expect all this in his career.Major Elshett and Major Ackers are as usual, unsurprised. Glaive Ostium however, is oddly calm, though his eyes look dead and probably just as numb as his fellow comrades.

( It was awhile before a nagging thought in the back of his head reminded him that he essentially promoted these two himself. The one who called him a bitch to his face, and the other one who called out his entire line of ancestors as 'stuck up assholes’. )

“My commanders! We make battle plans, for a reason.” Regis starts with the flattest diplomatic voice he has. 

Cor kicks a stray Magitek armor out of his way violently like its the most offending thing in his life as Nyx blinks blankly back at the Lucian King.

“Why have just one plan when we could make more, your Majesty?” The Captain of the Kingsglaive replies with a grin just as an enemy airship suddenly gets dropped down by an angry and territorial Bennu screaming behind them while the Adamantoise chomps on the unwelcome visitors and their floating vehicles with a disgruntled roar, “the Adamantoise agrees.”

Regis resists the urge to run his hand across his face and sighs heavily instead. Cor, like the little shit he is, smirks right back at his King with a glint in his eyes. Regis’ eye twitches. 

The utter brat.

Bonus Extra:

“Any questions?” Nyx looks around in a debrief with the Kingsglaive that is now his responsibility. A hand shoots up. It was one of his own squadron, his own kin that had followed him from their homeland.

“Ena?” 

Taryn Ena’s eyes dart left, then right, looking at her fellow Glaives who urge her on with their eyes. With a deep breath and a sigh, the chosen one who obviously drew the short end of the stick began the million gil question.

“Captain, is it true you and the Marshal are married?”

Nyx blinks. 

What the fuck? They really are not making his job easy huh? Loyalty be damned. Is this karma biting his ass or Drautos cursing him from the Beyond?

The entire Kingsglaive and a couple of Crownsguard nearby froze. All awaiting keenly and watching Nyx like a group of Sabertusks wanting to jump on their target. Nyx sees and knows there is a betting pool of sorts but, really. Just how damn big is it that even damn Crownsguard are involved at this point?!

He can even see Libs and Crowe’s shoulders shaking from here even as trying desperately keep a straight face. At least Pelna had the decency to not disguise his amusement by this. He needs to find new friends.

“Exactly how big is the betting pool?”

“Enough.”

“Which divisions are involved?”

“Confidential.”

“Well since you lot are so curious, why don’t you ask the Marshal yourself then?”

The Glaives meekly take a glance at the Head of the Crownsguard on the other side of their camp. If there is one person these wild bunch will not try, it is the Marshal of Lucis. Despite the conflict between the Lucians and refugees, Crownsguard and Glaives, the man had commandeered respect with his abilities and equal treatment to all soldiers regardless of their background. Although this is also the same man who would tear down Councilmen for breakfast, break Colonels in the war room for lunch and reduce recruits into tears for tea. 

The Glaives wisely turn back to the better target instead.

“We asked you first. Sir.” was the smart ass reply the Captain receives from Taryn.

Nyx inhales and resist making an exasperated growl before turning around with a roll of his eyes to look towards Cor, who is delegating his now distracted Crownsguards nearby. The Galahdian’s eyes narrowed with a tired sweeping gesture. 

See? THIS is the group of idiots that I have been entrusted to deal with! You see?!

Cor simply returns his husband a dry stare, before raising a brow, and shrugs.

——

 A/N: Why did Cor not interfere? Take a guess. Also, Noct and Regis do reconcile later but eh. Who knows if I’ll write that angst fest. Probably never.

[arlenya]

by Caillieach

Words: 3627, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Final Fantasy XV

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Luche Lazarus, Tredd Furia, Cor Leonis, Nyx Ulric, Libertus Ostium, Crowe Altius, The Kingsglaive

Relationships:  Tredd Furia/Luche Lazarus, Cor Leonis/Glaives

Additional Tags: coffee shop AU, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, slowburn, this is painfully sweet until it’s not, for once Tredd is not a walking disaster, he’s a barista, Luche likes to spend time in coffee shops, Who knew?, the Glaives obviously didn’t, the saying ‘still waters run deep’ totally applies to Luche, written from Tredd’s perspective

[awlwren-writes]

Part 5c Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Relationship: Mentioned Cor Leonis/Nyx Ulric Characters: Titus Drautos | Glauca, Cor Leonis, Verstael Besithia, mentioned Nyx Ulric Additional Tags: Febuwhump 2022, Caged, Betrayal, Reveals, Starscourge, Canon-Typical Violence, Dismemberment, Drautos is very Dramatic, Summary: "A dog starv'd at his Masters Gate Predicts the ruin of the State"

Titus liked to think of himself as a practical man, not prone to the dramatics of his glaives or his superiors on either side of the conflict, but it struck him as poetic that his cover was literally melting away, leaving just him and what he could do right here and right now.

AKA Drautos's POV of Whumpwriterforlife's "Eternity in an Hour" AKA when everything comes to a head. Day 20 of Febuwhump 2022: Caged

[whumpwriterforlife]

I love your writing! You write Nyx(and Cor & Crowe) so well! I don't know if it's alright to send in more requests, so feel free to ignore this, but I would like to request forced to kneel with Nyx. Please continue to share your writing as you like, it never fails to brighten my day!

It's most definitely alright to send more requests, don't worry! Here you go, forced to kneel with some badass Nyx. Thank you for your continued support and interest in my writing, it means a lot to me <3

BTHB - Forced to Kneel

Those crossed in blue have been done, pink ones have been requested.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Nyx Ulric, Crowe Altius & Cor Leonis (with mentioned Libertus Ostium)

Whumpee: Nyx Ulric

Word Count: 1749

Warnings: None

Can be found on ao3 here

--

“Down on your knees!”

Nyx rolled his eyes and made no move to comply as he stood there, surrounded by a handful of armed men. He flipped one of his kukris, studying the blade for a moment before sliding it back into its sheath. The other was still in his grip, ready for action. Nyx shook his head and looked at the man in charge. “And why would I do that?”

The man scoffed, something dark and dangerous flashing across his face. Nyx frowned. There was a condescending tone to his voice as he spoke, “You’re not a very wise man, are you, Glaive Ulric?”

“Wise enough to make it past your security without being detected.” Nyx shrugged. He didn’t let the fact that the man knew his name phase him. It was a poor intimidation tactic as far as he was concerned, considering he had had his name and face plastered on news — against his wishes — on numerous occasions because apparently he was the poster boy for the Kingsglaive, regardless of his stance on the matter.

“Yet foolish enough to come without any backup,” the man pointed out as he slowly sauntered closer. A brave move for a man who was noticeably smaller than Nyx and clearly not a fighter. Then again, he had two armed men flanking him, one on each side. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy to get through my men and free your friends?”

“Did you really think that,” Nyx paused to glance around the hall, “five men, plus yourself, would be enough to stop me? You know my name, you know what I’m capable of.”

He didn’t even wait for his words to sink in before he threw his kukri and warped. He landed in front of one of the underlings and struck him to the temple, knocking him out. He could kill them, it wouldn’t take much, but the men could be interrogated and used to bring the whole organization down. Nyx also detested needless bloodshed. Underling Two tried to come at him with a knife but Nyx moved out of the way and disarmed him with a twist to the wrist. Panic flashed across the underling’s face as Nyx hooked his hand behind his neck and threw him against the wall.

Two down for the count, four to go.

A gunshot echoed in the hall, and Nyx grunted as he felt something rip through his side. His kukri slipped out of his grasp, clattering across the floor, as his hand dropped to his side. His hand came back red with blood. Nyx hissed but there was no time for him to worry about it as underlings Three and Four charged at him. Underling Three had a stun gun in his hands and Nyx could hear the nasty crackling sound coming from it as it came alive. He ducked under Three’s arm, wincing as his side protested, and grabbed him by the wrist. Underling Four didn’t realize Nyx’s plan until it was too late and he was writhing on the ground as the electricity coursed through his body.

Underling Three cursed and twisted in Nyx’s grasp. The stun gun fell to the floor but Three managed to break free and shove Nyx back. Nyx stumbled a bit, Then underling five was on him, throwing punches at him. The first couple Nyx managed to block just fine but then one got past his defenses and landed right above his injured side. A strangled noise ripped out of Nyx’s throat as he instinctively curled around the wound protectively. It gave Three and Five enough time to grab his arms and force him down to his knees.

“Stay down!” one of the underlings ordered.

Nyx hissed, baring his teeth, as his knees hit the floor and pain reverberated through his body. His chest heaved up and down, breathless, as he tried to push past the white-hot pain. He still had a job to do. A hand snuck into his hair and wrenched his head back as the man in charge came to a stop before them.

“Well,” the man began, his face twisting into a smile that looked all kinds of wrong, “It would appear that, yes, five of my men were enough to bring you down.”

Nyx bristled at smug words. “Good for you.”

The man glanced at the two underlings that were holding him down and brushed them off. “You needn't hold him down, just stand guard. I have a feeling he won’t be trying anything again.”

Nyx’s eyes narrowed, and he could feel the hesitancy in the two underlings as well as they let him go. This man was either extremely brave or stupid, possibly both. Nyx lowered one of his hands over the wound on his side to apply pressure. He had fought in worse condition. It would hurt like a bitch to keep going but Nyx wasn’t one to just give up. “Why is that?”

Behind the man, a door opened and a handful of new underlings piled into the room. Nyx rolled his eyes but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. The man had called backup then. The plan was coming along nicely. That didn’t mean Nyx didn’t think the man wasn’t stupid — he most definitely was.

The man looked down at Nyx with an unreadable expression. “I find it curious that the Crown could only spare one single man for this rescue mission. Of course, there’s been rumors about how some important people find the members of the Kingsglaive more expendable, but I couldn’t bring myself to quite believe that. Intriguing.”

Nyx shrugged. “Are you sure I came here alone?”

The man frowned at him, a calculating look on his face. Nyx just flashed him one of his more charming smiles. The man’s eyes narrowed and he turned on his heels to look at the newcomers. Nyx could see him tense as he shouted, “Who’s guarding the glaives?”

“Rendell, Sir,” someone responded.

The man dug out his phone and tapped furiously on it before bringing the phone to his ear. Nyx just watched him, his smile never wavering. A minute passed. The man didn’t get a response. The phone cracked against the floor as the man threw it with a frustrated growl. His eyes were filled with fury as he locked eyes with Nyx.

“What did you do?” he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Me?” Nyx asked innocently. “Nothing. Well, I did bypass your security, get here and knock out a few of your guys but you already knew that much. Now I’m kind of… well, bleeding all over your floor. Sorry about that.”

The man stormed over to Nyx and pushed him down with a foot to the chest. Nyx winced and gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out as his side was jarred.

“Don’t expect me to believe that. Something is going on, and you know exactly what it is,” the man told him in a low, icy tone. His foot moved down on Nyx’s chest and over the hand he was using to apply pressure on the wound. Nyx stiffened, a sharp curse leaving his lips as the man put more weight on the wound. “Tell me, and I won’t make you suffer.”

Nyx laughed but it came out strained. “Did you ever consider— that maybe I’m not the rescue party,” he said and groaned when the man’s foot shifted. He still smirked though, despite the pain. “That maybe, instead, I’m the decoy.”

The man’s face twisted with fury but before he could do anything, Nyx had summoned a knife from the armiger and thrown it across the room to warp. The room burst with activity and noise, the doors on both sides of the hall flung open as other glaives rushed in. Nyx faltered as he landed from the warp, sinking down onto his hands and knees. He lowered one of his hands back over the wound and hissed. Getting shot sucked big time.

There was a crackle of magic next to him and Crowe appeared next to him. There was a deep frown on her face as she took in the way he was holding his side. She muttered something about idiots under her breath as she moved Nyx’s hand aside to inspect the wound.

“Dammit, we need to get you to the medics, now,” she told him. She pulled Nyx’s arm over her shoulder to help him stand up. “I don’t have any potions left.

Nyx groaned, leaning heavily on Crowe. Despite being smaller than him, Crowe was strong and supported him with little trouble. Nyx licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Did they- the others, they okay?”

“Yes, they’re all fine. Some were a bit roughed up but nothing a few days’ rest won’t heal,” Crowe said as they started walking. “You, once again, are somehow in the worst shape. You fought them, didn’t you? When you were explicitly told not to.”

“Bah,” Nyx muttered, “The situation called for it. Can you- I think I left one of my kukris there.”

“I’ll have someone get them,” Crowe promised. “Then I’ll call Cor and let him know you were being an idiot.”

Nyx rolled his eyes but regretted it as the world spun in his eyes. “You two… mother hens.”

“You should make that three, I think Lib is waiting outside,” Crowe told him and Nyx could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Of course he is,” Nyx scoffed but then his voice softened. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A few minutes later Crowe left Nyx with the medics and stepped aside to go through with his threat to call Cor. Nyx grumbled about it, telling her to wait until he was in the hospital and already taken care of but she wasn’t having any of it. So, in the end, Cor was waiting for Nyx at the hospital when the ambulance got there. The doctors wanted to keep him there for a while as they needed to dig out the bullet before they could use any curatives on it. Cor never once left his side. It was nice and made Nyx feel all warm and fuzzy which is what he told Cor, in his special high-on-painkillers way that was mostly incoherent mush. Cor just laughed and subtly recorded it to send to the group chat that had him, Crowe and Libertus in it.

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

I have a question. I read the selkie!Nyx and I'm wondering how that could tie into Heart of Thunder. Because didn't Cor give Nyx white coeurl pelts? So let's twist that a little what if he gave him back his pelt that was confiscated? Wouldn't it still kind of be the same marriage proposal? Also how would everyone's reaction from the King himself all the way down to Cor what would their reactions be when Nyx puts on the pelt, lo and behold, there now stands a coeurl...who Cor is now engaged to?

Hi!

Thanks for the prompt! *jumps around* I’m an excited little gremlin when it comes to prompts. I just hardly ever get any XD

The pelt Cor gave Nyx in Heart of Thunder, was grey with silvery spots. In that ‘verse and Born Into the Wilds white coeurls are a species native to Galahd that went extinct. The colours of the others haven’t been mentioned yet.

But.

Let’s make an AU of an AU.

One where there is an Official Thing in the National Museum of Lucis, and Cor has to be there as protection for Regis. He’s bored out of his skull by all the pomp and tamtam.

Until, in a room dedicated to Galahd, he finds a pelt. It’s from a coeurl and pure white. Cor has also seen it before. Years ago, back when he helped to process all those refugees. But he would recognize it anywhere. It had been a personal possession. How has it gotten here of all places?

The plaque isn’t of any help. It describes the fur as a donation from a generous source that wished to remain anonymous. Which is basically code for ‘rich noble’.

Cor smells something foul is afoot. So he starts digging.

It takes him some time, too many all-nighters and headaches to count. There’s not enough coffee in the world to pay him for this. But he does it anyway. Something tells him this is important and he has always trusted his instincts.

(Some days, when he feels like he shouldn’t intrude in another culture that already has been mistreated by Lucians for so long, he feels like something is tugging him further down a path Cor cannot see.)

By the end of it, it’s not just the pelt he gets to take with him, but over half of the Galahdian exhibition. He probably would also manage to take the rest with a bit more digging, but for now this is enough.

(No it’s not, something nameless on the wind screams and Cor wonders...)

So when all is said and done (for now), and even more nobles hate him now than before (which is really an accomplishment at this point), he packs all the stuff he got into a truck and drives straight to the Kingsglaive HQ.

They’re not exactly enthusiastic to have him there. Especially when he practically orders every Glaive present outside, where the truck is parked.

The first thing he takes out is the white coeurl pelt. Because it’s not only hideously expensive for its rarity, but there is also something about it. Something that makes it important.

The moment they see the pelt in his arms there is

Silence.

Then, a strangled cry.

And a man stumbles forward. Cor recognizes him as Nyx Ulric.

There has always been something strange about the man. Something jagged and broken. The way he seemed trapped and not quite there sometimes. Now there is an expression of such deep longing on his face, Cor cannot comprehend it.

There’s also naked hope there, and a deep seated despair, and it makes Cor’s throat constrict. Just looking at Nyx’ face and the way his whole body trembles as he takes stumbling steps forward hurts. Libertus Ostium and Crowe Altius are close behind him. Their eyes daring him to do something stupid.

All words Cor had wanted to say, die on his tongue. So he just hold out his arms and waits. It feels like an eternity.

The moment Nyx has the pelt in his arms, he breaks down and cries. Heaving, ugly sobs, as he sinks to his knees and buries his face in the white fur. Words tumble over his libs, unintelligible to Cor’s ears.

He cannot believe-

He never thought that he would-

Nyx Ulric looks up at Cor Leonis, the man who brought back half of his soul, half of his very being, and he swears to follow this man above all others.

He can do nothing less.

It is like a damn broke. The other Glaives crowd close, and Cor finds himself with no time to contemplate what Nyx just did. Voices rise as they ask after lost possessions, old heirlooms, things the Lucians stole and called “payment” or their “just due”.

That evening, Cor finds himself in Little Galahd amidst a joyous people. There are tears of gratitude, words of thanks and declared debts. “Friend” is the most harmless of titles people call him. It makes Cor decidedly uncomfortable.

And he cannot help but wonder just how bad the Galahdians - the Galahkari, as they introduced themselves - have had it in Insomnia. He knows it’s an answer he won’t like.

[devilhacker]

FFXV Remake Ideas Part 3

(continue from part 3)

GUEST PARTY MEMBERS

1) COR LEONIS

Age: 45, 55 (Post WoD ), 73 (True Ending Epilogue).

Occupation: Leader of Crownsguard . Later High Commander of Lucis.

Class: Samurai

Combat Style: 2 Katana. Using Iaido to slash the enemy.

Skill: To be determined.

Possible Love Interest: To be determined

Profile: The High Commander of Lucis also known as one of the best fighters Lucis ever had. Otherwise known as 'the Immortal,' the general spends his days in service of Noctis's father, King Regis—just as when they journeyed together thirty years ago. 

Note: Although not available as permanent party members, Cor will have his own seperate campaign “The Glaive Story”. In this story, he will act as leader of Kinsglaive and Crownsguard battling the Empire across Lucis in order to retake their Kingdom. 

His backstory from FFXV is still intact but now with more plot. As mentioned in previous post, he kills Aranea’s father during the Great War resulting a conflict between them. 

2) WESKHAM ARMAUGH

Age: 53, 63 (Post WoD ), 81 (True Ending Epilogue).

Occupation: Former Royal Advisor. Currently a Chef and owner of Maagho Cafe

Class: Red Mage

Combat Style: Rapier + Gun. Can use Magic Bullet

Skill: To be determined.

Possible Love Interest: Camillia Claustra

Profile: Owner and operator of Maagho, an Altissian café-on-the-water, and longtime friend of Regis. He joined the late king on his journey 30 years ago in hopes of reforging and alliance with the nation of Accordo, but an injury incurred in the field cut his travels short.

Note: He will become guest character during one of Ignis’s hunt for a perfect recipeh. Depends on Ignis’s cooking level, he will either like his food or call it “disgusting”.

3) NYX ULRIC

Age: 32, 42 (Post WoD -if alive- ), 60 (True Ending Epilogue -if alive-).

Occupation: Kingsglaive Member

Class: Warrior

Combat Style: Weapon and Magic. Can warp during combat

Skill: To be determined.

Possible Love Interest: To be determined

Profile: Saved by King Regis as a child, Nyx repays the debt by serving the Kingsglaive with distinction. His unique ability to wield the King's magic and epic exploits in combat have earned him the moniker of 'hero' among his peers.

Note: He will play an active role in the early missions of the game particullary during Invasion on Insomnia. One of my disappointment is we never had a chance to know his relationship with Noctis (who he considered as little brother). This idea will try to discover more of their relationship. Depends on your action he may die early or alive. If alive, he will be available as character for “The Glaive’s Story” mode. He also available as a crew member for the airship later in games.

4) LIBERTUS OSTIUM

Age: 33, 43 (Post WoD), 61 (True Ending Epilogue).

Occupation: Kingsglaive Member

Class: Warrior

Combat Style: Weapon and Magic. Can warp during combat

Skill: To be determined.

Possible Love Interest: To be determined

Profile: Growing up alongside Nyx, Libertus was always the upbeat and outspoken one. When the situation turns serious, he must confront his fear to prove his valor.

Note:Unlike his other comrade, Libertus is the only one who is canonically survived. He will become an important assets during  “The Glaive Story” . 

5) CROWE ALTIUSS

Age: 29, 39 (Post WoD), 57 (True Ending Epilogue).

Occupation: Kingsglaive Member

Class: Mage

Combat Style: Destruction and Support Magic. 

Skill: To be determined.

Possible Love Interest: To be determined

Profile: Crowe grew up an orphan on the outskirts of Lucis. Her rare gift for magic earned her a place in the Kingsglaive. Her fellow soldiers are the only family she knows.

Note: She play important part during the invasion of Insomnia. Her survival depends on player’s action. If survive, she will be available for “The Glaive Story” later.

6) ARDYN IZUNIA

Age: more than 2000 years old

Occupation: Chancellor

Class: ???

Combat Style: Royal Arms, illusion technique and very strong dark magic

Skill: To be determined.

Possible Love Interest: Aera Mirus Fleuret

Profile: Chancellor of Niflheim. Ardyn rose to power by introducing magitek infantry to the ranks of the imperial army, and has since amassed political power at the emperor's side. An aloof manner shrouds the chancellor in mystery.

Note: There will be a major plot twist for Ardyn’s past life with his lover and brother. Depends on the ending, he may become a final boss or assisting Noct againts the True Final Boss.

[secret-engima]

The Frisk Leonis AU is really cute! Loving Flowey as over-protective eldritch big-brother :) Though can Flowey enter Havens? Also just imagining that Frisk and Flowey meets Ardyn before meeting Cor, what would be everyone's reaction to them being friends with the Chancellor and Frisk explaining it's because Flowey and Ardyn are creepy face buddies? Because I can imagine that people already consider Ardyn... odd. Is it possible that the Glaives start wondering about Ardyn being Old Kin as well?

I’m glad you enjoy! I like the Frisk Leonis AU myself. XD.

Flowey can enter Havens seeing as he isn't a daemon, but he can also lurk around all night outside them since daemons don’t bother attacking a plant. Best of both worlds.

Frisk and Flowey now TOTALLY meet Ardyn before meeting Cor. Frisk doesn’t bother to mention it until it just kinda- comes up and Cor is a Strangled Scream because YOU CAN’T BE FRIENDS WITH THE CHANCELLOR OF NIFLHEIM.

Frisk: Why not?

Cor: He’s the ENEMY!

Frisk: I don’t have enemies, and besides he’s Flowey’s friend. Flowey doesn’t have enough friends. He needs more social interaction.

Flowey: He’s not my friend he’s my RIVAL.

Frisk, in his best parent tone: I know Flowey.

Regis, with a headache: The Chancellor is ... rivals ... with a flower.

Flowey: Stupid human thinks he can make a better scary face then me I’LL SHOW HIM SCARY FACE AND I DON’T EVEN HAVE TO BE TERMINALLY ILL TO DO IT.

Cor: Terminally what now.

Also the Glaives somehow see a Scary Face Challenge between Ardyn and Flowey and are now 1000% convinced Ardyn is a wayward Old Kin. A sick, infected with scourge OLD KIN.

Ardyn is very bemused when he discovers he has a mailing address. How does he discover this? Because he’s suddenly getting a lot of herb candles and get well/warding talismans in the mail. He finds them oddly endearing.

[hanalwayssolo]

Coming Up Roses

A/N: First commissioned piece for my lovely pal, @blindedstarlight! Partly inspired by 500 Days of Summer sans the angst, consider this awkward fluff just in time for, well, pre-Valentines. Or something to that effect lol

Also tagging some pals! @valkyrieofardyn @gowithme @emmydots @bleucommelhiver @hanatsuki89 @raspberryandechinacea @noboomoon @animakupo

Link on AO3

Day 70

Today is Tuesday, and your tight-fitting shirt is the colour of a sinful red. Like a bright danger sign breaching his field of view, Cor immediately notices you even out of the corner of his eye as soon as you enter the Citadel training room. You do not meet his eyes, but the sight of you drags him out of focus.

And to think that Cor never, ever loses his focus.

So he misses a step. Fumbles in a split second. His reflexes fail him that Clarus’s fist lands on his face, the swing of the wooden sword sending him flying across the room.

A loud, resounding thud echoes as Cor crashes gracelessly on the hardwood floor. A sharp pain seizes his whole body, and he is aching all over. His head is pounding as if he had also been hit with a lead pipe. A shrill ringing in his ears is deafening that he does not hear the hurrying footsteps, the worried whispers, the swift gathering of familiar faces hovering over his head.

“Shit,” he hisses sharply under his breath, squeezes his eyes shut. What a way to make a fool of myself in front of—

“Are you okay?”

Your voice startles him out of his wits. And when he opens his eyes, yours is the first face he sees.

In a jolt, Cor hauls himself up to sit. Your concern should not have surprised him, but it did. After all, you’re one of the resident medics, and even if you are strictly assigned to the Kingsglaive, looking after the whole Lucian force is your duty.

And of all the medics that had to see him in his shameful hour, it just had to be you.

“Uh, I’m fine. Better than fine,” Cor says, which is an obviously poor lie on his part. He rubs the back of his neck, his head mildly throbbing. Behind you, he can see Clarus eyeing him with a wicked smile on his face.

“Wait—“ you kneel beside him, carefully taking his face into your hands— “you really sure? No head pain, or anything?”

Cor nods. He only hopes that you cannot feel the swell of heat that rises in his cheeks. “Yes, very sure.”

“Well, Cor is a man of steel,” Clarus chimes in, arms folded over his chest. “Someone of his calibre should have his ego checked from time to time. And I wouldn’t have taken him down from his pedestal today, if it weren’t for you, the Achilles’ heel—“

“Clarus.” Cor’s menacing glare is as sharp as his sword, it might have sliced Clarus in half. But Clarus, or course, remains unfazed.

Meanwhile, you raise a confused eyebrow to the both of them. “Uh, am I missing something here?”

“Oh, nothing much—don’t mind us,” Clarus says, beaming a grin. “And don’t worry, I’ll see to it that Cor is as fit as a fiddle.”

“If you both say so,” you say as you hold out your hand and help Cor back on his feet. You give him a smile, and Cor watches you walk away to return to your Kingsglaive friends on the other side of the training hall.

Cor exhales a heavy sigh. “I’m going to kill you for that, Clarus.”

“Back to your threatening habits, I see,” Clarus teases. He rests his arm on Cor’s shoulder. “You know, you could just tell her.”

“Not your business.”

“Wait until Reggie hears about this, then it will be our business.”

“Fuck you,” sneers Cor, shrugging Clarus’s arm off of him.

“Me? Shouldn’t it be fuck her—”

“I’ll tell Joy about this.”

Clarus laughs. “My wife would only be pleased, that I can assure you.” He claps a hand on Cor’s shoulder and says, “Now, don’t you want a rematch to avenge your lovesick clumsiness?”

“This time I will really beat your ass,” Cor says, all smug. A large part of him is still reeling from the warmth of your hand in his, and how awfully perfect you look in that sultry shade of red...

Maybe it really is about time I tell her, he quietly ruminates as he picks up his sword, ready to swing for another round.

  Day 45

For the record—his own internal record, that is—Cor is never the type to have a crush. He is also never the type to have a crush on someone to the point of unconsciously knowing all their favourite things, let alone looking forward to what colour of shirt they would be wearing. That may have been Clarus’s thing back in his bachelor days, or some other guy who tends to obsess, but definitely not him. He swears this fact upon his life and his honour.

But ever since he got to know you a little bit better, with all the times you have been spending with him on and off council meetings, he may have that oath completely compromised.

Case in point: he remembers random things about you. You may have briefly shared your interests in a passing exchange or on one of those long conversations you two have had when you were forced to work late in the Citadel, but best believe Cor has it all memorized: from your favourite ice cream flavour to music genres to flowers, down to your usual order at Kenny Crow’s.

Then there comes the matter of your shirts. It is never his intention to look forward to what you’ll be wearing, but at this rate, he knows how you’re much more likely to wear cooler colours on training days with the Glaive; darker ones on days when you are balancing your shift in the infirmary. He has seen you wear every shade of blue and green, but not red. Anything but red. He’ll probably lose his shit once he finally sees you in his favourite colour; he’s already certain that no one will rock red the same way you would.

But today is one of those days that you are wearing neither shade of blue and green. Because as you enter his office, he almost spills his coffee when he sees you in white. And not just any white shirt—a white summer dress, to be precise.

“So here are the physical exam results of the new recruits you requested,” you say by way of greeting. “Monica’s been called by Clarus for an urgent meeting, so she asked me to turn this over to you.”

Right. It was Monica who’s supposed to deliver these results, not you in this godsend of a dress. His dreary office—the oaken shelves, the soulless furnishing—is somehow brightened by your presence. And it’s not even helping how well-lit his office is, streaming in morning sunshine to favour this sight of you. For a brief moment, he struggles to tear his eyes away—until he finally notices that in your arms are a handful of folders, and that you’re gingerly eyeing for a spot to unload all of it.

“I, uh, shit —sorry, here—” In a sudden rush of panic, he sets down his coffee cup, and hastily clears some of the books and binders strewn all over. “You may leave it there. Thanks for your help.”

You neatly place the files over the newly vacated space on his desk. “You’re welcome—“

“Uh, you look really pretty today.” The words stumble out of Cor without warning, as if his tongue had lost its brakes. Fuck. He fidgets at the edge of his seat, stammering to backpedal, “I mean, not just today —sorry, you look pretty everyday, but, you know—“

“No, it’s okay, Cor. Um, well—“ you purse your lips, struggling to stifle the hearty giggle, and is that a blush Cor is seeing on your face? “Thank you. I’m taking the half day off to meet someone, hence—“ you gesture awkwardly up and down your body— “the dress.”

“Oh.” The oh slips out of Cor in a disappointed exhale. His voice evidently drops along with his heart. “Right. I see—“

“But it’s not a date, though,” you say quickly, defensively. “Not that I needed to clarify that bit, but um, yeah.”

“Okay.” Cor nods and laughs sheepishly—but mostly out of a bizarre relief, thank the gods— as he reaches for the back of his neck. “You must be in a hurry—I’m sorry for keeping you.”

You smile. “Don’t mention it. See you around.”

As Cor watches you walk out of his office, all he could bother to think about is how badly he wants you to stay. Stay for a little while, just one more second and I wouldn’t ask for more.

  Day 3

When Cor visits the infirmary to retrieve a couple of meds for his headache one dull Thursday morning, the new face that greets him stops him halfway through the door.

“How may I help you?” you ask amiably, a pleasing smile on your face. He briefly scans the room; there is no one else present except for you, the infirmary surprisingly vacant and ascetic: empty beds, clinical equipment properly arranged, the medical cabinets maintained in orderly perfection. Even your desk is sanctified with cleanliness. Not a single sheet of paper astray from your outgoing tray.

“I need some Advil,” Cor says, slumping heavily at the seat across from you as if he is carrying the entire world on his shoulder. “Headache.”

“Oh, alright.” Your smile is suddenly eclipsed by a rather concerned look. You slide him a pen and a sheet of paper tucked in a clipboard. “Please sign your name here and I’ll be right back in a jiffy.” As he quickly fills up the form, his head still in the verge of splitting into pieces, you hastily retreat behind the white curtains, and you emerge a couple of minutes later with a packet of capsules.

Cor returns the clipboard back to you. “So, sir…” You trail off, scanning the sheet, and Cor sees your eyes widen. “Oh. So you’re the Cor Leonis.”

“That I am.” Cor tries to give you a small smile, only that it appears to be more of a weak wince.

You scribble something on the paper. “Have you eaten something in the last couple of hours?”

“No, not yet.”

Your lips quirk sideways. You look at Cor as if you are about to pass some judgment; he could sense how you are studying his face with the way your eyes are fixed on him with a more intensified concern. Then, you say, “I don’t mean to prolong your agony, but will you promise me that if I give this to you—“ you wave the packet in your hand— “you’ll first grab a proper meal before you take this?”

“I, uh—“ Cor scratches his cheek, eyeing you curiously— “sure, yes.”

You raise a skeptical brow. “On your honour as a soldier?”

Cor laughs. “Of course.”

You give him one last look of hesitation before you finally hand him the medication. “Heed my advice, marshal.” Another bright smile crosses your face. For a brief second, Cor forgets to breathe.

New Girl is what his peers in the Crownsguard call you. Our Lady is what he often hears from the Kingsglaive. He never understood why the Kingsglaive seemed to be overprotective with their newly hired medic, but he finally understands all their territorial bullshit.

On his way back to his office, he does heed your advice, but he no longer finds the need to take the pill.

  Day 4

No one from your newfound friends in the Kingsglaive warned you about Cor the Immortal. Specifically, no one warned you how infuriatingly handsome he is in person.

You’ve only heard of his name either on the many broadcasts on the radio or television, or came across his impressive exploits in the pages of The Insomnian Gazette. Not a single portrait of him, nor even a single footage of an interview, was ever made public. He never graced the spotlight of his fame; he seemed to hide behind the shadows of all the other great men before him. You can only guess that he’s probably camera shy. Or that he chose to eliminate anyone who ever dared take his photo.

So you were left to speculate what the Cor Leonis actually looked like. In your head, you imagined a fearsome man with cruel eyes who had no idea how to smile, or laugh.

But as soon as you saw his name on the form—in quite a neat handwriting, no less—the face sitting across from you is far from the image you had in mind. In fact, he is quite the opposite.

He has such kind eyes, a striking shade of blue. His handsome face has gracefully wizened, and is set to a perpetual frown. And whatever confidence that possessed you to hold a conversation with him, you gladly thank the gods. Because when he laughs the moment you question his honour—a fucking bold move in exchange for that packet of Advil—you can promise that his laughter could light up an entire city. You can also promise that his smile knocked the wind out of your lungs.

  Day 46

“Monica set you up—” Crowe says before taking another swig from her bottle of beer— “and that’s ‘cause I asked her to.”

“You son of a bitch,” you say loudly, trying to compete with the rest of the boisterous chatter of the other Glaives sitting on the other side of Yamachang’s joint. The decadent reek of the grilled garula kebabs wafts the air. It is sweltering hot.

“So how did it go?” Nyx sidles up to the vacant seat next to you, bottle of beer in hand. “Did you blow him away seeing you in that outfit?”

“I don’t know, actually. I think I made it awkward. I even explained that it’s not for a date, but I didn’t tell him it’s ‘cause I’m meeting my parents, and…” You heave an exasperated sigh. “And I don’t think he even likes me that way—”

“Y’know, my good friend—” Nyx loops one arm around your shoulder— “you and Cor are smart in your respective fields, but gods forbid, you two are also the dumbest people I’ve met when it comes to the matters of the heart.”

Your face wrinkles into a confused frown. “What does that even mean?”

Both Nyx and Crowe shake their heads. “May the gods save us all,” Crowe says before she downs the rest of her drink.

  Day 70

“I still don’t understand why you’re not telling him,” Monica says as she eases behind her desk in the infirmary, busily multitasking stacking her Crownsguard records and offering you her kind advice.

“It’s not that easy, okay.” You take a fist of almonds from your drawer and begin eating them aggressively. “Besides—” you say in between chews— “he’s just so…”

“So?”

“So handsome.”

“Gods, forgive the man for being blessed by an aesthetically beautiful face.” Monica laughs. She types in something on her keyboard before she swivels to look at you. “But really, what do you have to lose?”

“Well, my pride, for one.” You step away from your desk and sit in front of Monica. “And he’s been a good friend to me. And I don’t want to compromise that just because I like him, and I do like him a lot. I probably like Cor more than I like life itself.”

Monica says nothing. Instead, a teasing smile creeps up on her face. She has fallen way too quiet, and you immediately notice how she is casting a furtive glance on the door behind you...

Shit. You hesitate to turn around. Your heart is pounding loudly against your chest. “Please don’t tell me he’s standing right by the doorway.”

Monica shrugs, rising out of her desk. “I think I’ll let the two of you sort this out.”

As you turn to watch Monica leave, you see Cor leaning against the doorframe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He walks over to you, unable to hide the smile on his face. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“Right.” You bite your lip. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. “So how much have you heard then—”

The burning question is extinguished at the tip of your tongue when he takes your face in his hands, his lips crushing yours. In this kiss, he makes it clear that he has heard every word you’ve said. That the feeling is very much the same. That he also likes you more than he likes life itself.

He thumbs the sides of your cheeks, pressing another kiss on your forehead. “I think you should know that I really like you in red.”

You laugh. “I better buy more red shirts, then.”

“And I hope you don’t mind if I keep you this time around.”

The smile on your face aches. “I would like that very much.”

[thedarklordmegatron]

Wicked Games

Libertus Ostium/Nyx Ulric

Warnings for swearing, major character death, skeletons and an ambiguous ending!

He would never understand what it was exactly that possessed him to return to Insomnia and alone at that.

It was stupid. Completely and utterly stupid, and if he did by some miracle make it back to Lestallum in one piece, which he seriously doubted he would, Amicitia was going to kill him just so Leonis could revive him and kill him again. Had Iris not mentioned that one of her scouts claimed to have seen Glauca’s armour whilst doing recon, he would have happily stayed in Lestallum organising the remaining Glaives, all while ignoring Insomnia as he had successfully done so for the past nine years. As it was, his stupid ass just had to go and dig through the ruined city with nothing but a torch, a bottle of water and some vague idea as to where he should begin his search.

That being said, if Cor hadn’t been dealing with the movement of a large caravan, the Marshal would already have been scouring the city, looking for whatever remained of Drautos. Back before the fall, it had been no secret among the Citadel’s staff that the Marshal of the Crownsguard and the Captain of the Kingsglaive had been intimately involved. Pelna never had managed to erase the image of them fucking like a pair of rabbits out of his head.

He and many others had questioned Leonis’ loyalty after the news of Drautos’ betrayal began to spread. Cor had been less than impressed when the Hunters had briefly turned against him, informed him that they would not follow the man who had slept with the enemy. It had taken months or hard work, Six knows how much blood, and the word of those who had survived Insomnia because of him, before people had begun to trust him again.

Looking back on it, he really ought to have admitted his own guilt, let the people attack him instead of the man who would give everything to protect the people of Lucis. But he was a coward and he’d stayed silent. While he was not here for Glauca and could not carry whatever remained of him back to Lestallum, not when he had every intention of finding Nyx, he could at least return a portion of that armour as an apology for his cowardice.

There was, however, a little hope in his heart, that should he find the traitor, Nyx might be somewhere nearby. The last time he’d seen him, he’d been wearing the Ring of the Lucii, the damned ring that Leonis claimed would burn a man not of royal blood from the inside out; if that were the truth then he very much doubted his husband would have walked away in one piece.

A shriek from up ahead had him throwing himself behind the nearest piece of debris, the remains of an upturned van, and smothering the light from his torch. Taking care not to make any sound or give away his position in any manner, he peered around the edge of the metal just in time to see an Iron Giant emerge from behind a building. As was just his luck, the Daemon paused and looked in his general direction. Holding his breath he stayed completely still, waiting with bated breath for the blasted creature to move on.

After what felt like an eternity it did wander off, though not before crushing a few minor Daemons beneath its feet. Staying still, Libertus watched on for a few more minutes until he was absolutely certain that no other Daemons would be making an appearance.

“Okay,” He muttered softly, switching his torch back on and looking around. He had two options. One, navigate his way through a minefield of sinkholes, glass and god knows what else, risking making one hell of a noise and potentially killing himself by falling into a hole. Or two, clamber over the seriously unstable looking stack of concrete and steel that had to have come from one of the collapsed skyscrapers. As if making his decision for him, a group of imps appeared in the same place as the Iron Giant had been. Concrete it was.

Cracking his knuckles he shook his hands out and slowly climbed the unstable mound, taking great care to be as silent as possible. The last thing he needed was for the imps to see him and decide he’d make a good dinner. But for once luck was on his side. Nothing fell out from beneath him and there were enough footholds that he was able to scale the debris relatively quickly. Once atop the pile, he glanced back at the imps and was relieved to find them squabbling among themselves a fair distance away.

He made sure to climb down a few paces, ensuring that he was suitably hidden from sight before raising the torch and looking around. Something had happened here, that much was certain, if not by the sheer amount of destruction, then by the fact it looked like a giant foot had literally crushed the entire area. Nothing immediately jumped out at him, Daemonic or armour-wise, so he continued to move further down.

Had it not been for the fact that his foot literally sank through the metal, successfully through his boot in the process, he would have easily missed the remains.

“Fucking-!” He hissed, instinctively reaching down to grab hold of the injured leg. It was only then, as he attempted to pry his leg free without causing any further damage, that he realised what it was his foot had gone through. Despite being warped and rusted, the result of being exposed to the elements for nearly a decade, the metal was still somewhat recognisable. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Very slowly, he moved closer, taking care to keep his foot as still as possible when it became clear that he’d gone through the chest “Of all the gods damned rotten luck” Sighing heavily, Libertus moved his torch into a more convenient position, illuminating the small area.

Muttering under his breath, he placed a hand on either side of the armour and very slowly wriggled his foot free, hissing as the sight of his shredded leg. That was going to be a bitch to walk on but was certainly not worth using a potion on. The boot, on the other hand, was going to be a hard one to explain away, the younger Amicitia was going to murder him, she’d only just given him the new pair.

Once certain that his leg was not going to kill him, he turned his attention to the remains of the man he had once called ‘Captain’. For a moment he did nothing but stare. Had it not been for the armour he’d never have been able to identify him, after all, everyone’s bones looked the same.

Removing the body, well skeleton really, was impossible. Whilst he did admittedly have an empty bag, he’d brought it with the intention of finding his husband and giving him a proper burial; not to carry the remains of a traitor back to the one person on the planet who missed him. Personally, he would much rather leave the man’s bones to continue to rot or eventually be eaten by a Daemon, whichever came first; but at the same time, he’d seen the way Cor sat upon the rooftops after a long shift, running his fingers over a well-worn ring.

“By the Six I hate you,” He muttered softly, closing the distance between them. Leaning over the armour he paused. There, laying embedded in what would have been Drautos’ chest, was one very familiar Kukri. With shaking fingers he reached out to cautiously run his fingers over the hilt. “Nyx,” He paused for a second before pulling it free and sitting back on his heels. There was no mistaking the detailing and the familiar if damaged beads. So Nyx had been the one to kill him. Not that he was particularly surprised, Nyx was a stubborn bastard and considering Nyx hadn’t met up with him, he suspected that Drautos had been the one to seriously injure, if not kill, his husband. Although he suspected the Ring of the Lucii had something to do with the significant lack of a second body; unless Nyx had somehow managed to put some distance between himself and the traitor.

“You fucking bastard.” He hissed, holding the Kukri over his heart and glaring at the skull. “You absolute fucking bastard!” In a fit of rage, he grabbed hold of the nearest movable object, a fairly large piece of debris, and slammed it onto the skull, watching in satisfaction as the bone gave way and crumbled. “I hope you burn in whatever hell awaits you!” He repeated before slamming the rubble down once again, suitably destroying the remaining shards. The shriek of an imp had him falling silent, Nyx’s Kukri held firmly in place against his chest. He sat in silence, waiting for the imps to move on.

When it became increasingly obvious that the creatures were not going to be leaving any time soon, he slipped the bag off his shoulder and tucked the blade away among his supplies, pausing only briefly to touch it once more. With it secured safely, Libertus turned back to Drautos’ remains before reluctantly leaning back over the armour and digging around inside. He hadn’t expected to find the ring, but it was a pleasant surprise to find a simple gold band and chain buried among the bones of his neck.

“I’m not doing this for you,” He whispered, sparing a quick glance to the top of the debris pile and the imp that had crested it “This is for Cor. He didn’t deserve any of the shit you put him through. And if you think for a moment any of us will ever forgive you for what you’ve done, you’re wrong. I will never forgive you for killing Nyx. Never. You’re a traitorous piece of shit and every single child born will know that it was you who did this to us.” With the ring safely in his possession, Libertus clambered to his feet and stumbled off in the opposite direction to whence he came, the screams and footsteps of the Daemons spurring him on.

Of course, Drauatos screwed him over again. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to look for his husband because the gods-damned traitor took up too much time and still managed to hurt him despite being long dead. With shaking fingers he freed his phone from his pocket, activated the voicemail and continued running. He shouldn’t have gone alone. He should have just bitten the bullet and brought Cor with him. That being said, if he was going to die, if a Daemon did decide to make him dinner, he’d gone down with Nyx’s voice still ringing in his ears.

“Hey Libs, it’s me. Just making sure you’re okay. You’re not replying to any of our texts and I’m just a bit worried. Give me a call or drop me a text when you get the chance. Love you.”

“To listen to your message again, press one. To save your message press two-”

“Message saved. Next message. Received on Friday the sixteenth of May, M.E. 756 at eight o’three am.”

“Hey Libs, it’s me. You didn’t come home last night and you’ve got me worrying. Please tell me you’re okay or do me a favour and text Pelna. I just want to know that you’re somewhere safe. I’m heading off to the signing now, Drautos called me in early, so I’ll try to give you a ring when I get a chance. Love you.”

“To listen to your message again, press one-”

[singlebecauseofthechocobros]

Reunion Chapter 2

Fixing the update since it looked pretty bad before. I had to upload on my phone and we all know how great Tumblr mobile is lmao. Anyway enjoy! Part three will be out soon! 

Meet Lianna!

<<Previous Chapter

“Father! Please don’t leave me, come back, stay with me!”

“It is pointless child,” spoke a voice, “He is dead.”

Lianna looked at her dead father, Regis King of Lucis, as he lay limp across her lap. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling above and his hands cold as ice. Blood poured out of his chest in gallons it seemed. Lianna feared the blood would soon fill the room and she would drown.

“Who is there,” she cried out, tears falling in large droplets down her cheeks and unto her bloodied gown.

A dark figure approached head to toe in armor. He walked with a sword held straight in front of him, his footsteps shaking the entire building. “You do not need to know my name. The only thing you need to know is that you will be joining the afterlife with your father.”

**

Lianna jolted up, her face covered in beads of sweat and her heart pounding so hard, she was worried it would jump out of her chest.

“Woah, Orchid calm yourself,” spoke a familiar voice.

Turning her head, Lianna was greeted with a smile from her fellow hunter, Yura. She stood next to the bed Lianna was on, her short hair spiking up all over the place but her face warm with kindness. As soon as she evened out her breathing, Lianna spoke to her comrade.

“What am I doing here, what happened?”

“You nearly died,” Yuta informed her.

Raising her eyebrows, Lianna looked at Yuta with a bit of confusion till everything rushed back to her. “Yeah I guess you’re right,” she said, “Then how did I end up here?”

“Another vehicle wound up pulling up behind the hoard of imps. Stroke of luck I would say that they happened to be coming into town.”

“Another vehicle,” Lianna asked confused, “Who was coming into Lestallum that late? Refugees?”

“Nah, you think refugees would have known what to do with a hoard of imps? No these guys saved your ass. Well, rather one did all the work. Driver said the guy  took them all out with one swing of his sword.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah wow indeed. The gods were definitely looking out for you. By the time they got you back here you had bled out a good bit. Thankfully we had some potions on reserve for emergencies and took care of the cuts. But you may still be sore for a little bit.”

Turning herself so her feel dangled off the bed she could instantly understand what her pal meant. Her whole backside was tight, as though her skin had been stitched back together. She felt that if she moved too much, the tissue would break back apart again.

Willing herself to stand, she felt a sense of relief that her legs could manage to support her. At least she was not weakened. Pain she could endure, bedrest she could not.

“Orchid, don’t you think you ‘aught to take it slow,” Yuta called out as Lianna headed for the bathroom.

“I will, I just want to change and shower.”

“Ah, yeah okay your clothes are folded in the closet above the toilet. Towels are in there too. Holler if you need me.”

“Sure thing.”

As she was about to close the door, Yuta called out to her, “Hey also, come downstairs when you are done. Someone wants to see you.”

Lianna was going to ask who, but she went against it. All she wanted to do was inspect her wounds and rinse away the dirt and grim off her skin.

Shutting the door behind her and turning on the shower, she stripped off her hospital clothes; cloth pants and a light shirt. She turned to see her bare back in the mirror. Her backside was red with thin lines covering her epidermis. Feeling her shoulder blades, she could feel the skin, irritated and the scratches inflamed. Glancing down to her legs, they too appeared with the same superficial features. Sighing she investigated her face and arms. Both seemed unscathed compared to her backside.

Getting into the shower, she stood under the hot water, allowing it to soothe her sore muscles. The warmth of the shower burned her sensitive skin, but she ignored the pain, relishing in the sheer pleasure of the scalding heat.

Washing herself spotless, she exited the shower and dressed herself in her newly clean clothes; jeans, a green top, boots, and a dark blue jacket that was a little beaten up from the altercation with the creatures. She brushed out her long, damp, golden hair and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her grey eyes bore into herself, as she viewed the small scrapes, wrinkles, and bags across her face. Dark circles lived under her eyes and a long scar ran across the right side of her cheek. She could still remember only months ago how different she looked, viewing herself back home in the city. Clean skin, healthy hair, no wounds, and no memories of pain greeted her every morning back at the citadel. It seemed like a distant memory now.

No one here called her by her real name, Lianna Meria Lucis Caelum. She was Orchid now, a refugee turned hunter, from the city, whose parents had died and left her with nothing but the shirt on her back. At least that was what she told everyone. She was a blank slate.

The only person to know of her existence was the Marshall, Cor Leonis and Iris Amicitia. Cor had found Lianna within the crumbling crown city and helped her escape.  Once she had fled the city, Cor took her to the outskirts of Lestallum and met with Iris, who would take Lianna into Lestallum. Cor suggested that it would be safer for Noctis, Selene, and herself that no one know she lived. If the Nifs knew of her existence, they would use her against her siblings or simply kill her to make sure no other line of the Lucian throne would live. And although Selene survived, she was technically a Nox Fleuret now, therefore could not inherit the Lucian crown. She posed no threat, nor could the enemy touch her since she was high commander Ravus’s bride.

So after that fateful day, where she lost her home and father, Lianna decided to bury herself six feet under with them. Cor would tell Noctis and Selene she did not make it with her father, Iris would not utter a word to any of the boys or their mutual friends Lianna lived, and the princess would live on as another person.

It was not all bad of course. She made new friends, people did not refer to her as, “Your majesty,” and she got to wear jeans, which she could have never done back at home. She kept a smile on her face and made the best she could of the situation. However, she never missed a radio broadcast. She prayed every night for positive news concerning her younger siblings. Last she heard Noct had disappeared shortly after the chaos that had taken place in Altissa and as far as she was aware, Selene was somewhere off in enemy territory with her husband.  Lianna prayed to the astrals every day for their safety.

Wringing out her hair one last time and hanging her towel up on a hook, she finally exited the bathroom and left the sick room. The make shift hospital was nothing more than an abandoned home with about five or six bedrooms resting on the top floor. Cots were spread out within the dining and living room of the downstairs for minor injuries and shelves lines the walls full of medical supplies.

Yuta was down below chatting with a few others. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Lianna could see Jenica sitting across from Yuta at one of the tables set up. “Orchid,” she cried out, rushing over to Lianna and embracing her in a hug. “I am so sorry, we shouldn’t have left you,” the poor glaive cried out.

Lianna gave her a warm smile, shaking her head, “It’s fine Jenica, I am fine and the supplies made it back. What we did worked out.”

“Yeah but it almost didn’t,” Yuta cut in.

“Well it did. No need to dwell on it now,” Lianna said, “I would have been fine if they had not kept reappearing.”

They were all silent for a moment, each not having to say a word to know the daemons were going to get worse from here on out.

“Well, next time we need to bring another person or just set up patrols along the tunnel to clear out the little buggers,” Jenica said.

“Not a bad idea,” Yuta shrugged.

“Yeah that may work… By the way Yuta, who was it that found me,” Lianna asked, changing the subject.

Yuta shook her head, “Cor was one of them. He was on his way into town when he drove up and saw you swarmed.”

“The Marshall,” Lianna asked, “Why is he here?”

“No idea,” Jenica cut in, “But he had another friend with him.”

“Yeah, from what I heard he did all the swinging. Picked you up and carried you out of that tunnel.”

Lianna stood still for a moment, wondering who could have done such a noble thing.

“Did you get his name,” she asked.

“Actually he has a sibling here in town,” Jenica spoke, looking over to Yuta, “Right?”

“Yeah his sister sells clothes and gear at her booth in the middle of the city, what’s her name Iris?”

Lianna froze, her eyes widening as her heart begin to suddenly race in her chest.

“Gladiolus,” she whispered, looking to her two friends for confirmation.

“Yeah that’s his name, how did you kn-,” Yuta went to say, but Lianna was already racing out the door before she could hear her friend finish.

*********

Next Chapter>>

OCs Mentioned:

Selene Lucis Caelum by @lucianhuntress

The crew: @glaive-eve @owldearest @promptoastandjam @sherniwrites @bleucommelhiver

[noirbriar]

FFXV AU: Alone

Am I the only one that wanted to flip a table after the Cerberus cutscene?

Warning: one BE in a HE ahead.

(Also, you can’t tell me the brat that called out Regis 30 years ago won’t call him out again. Sometimes when pushed to a corner people tend to make poorer decisions. On the other hand, I really just want the OG chocobros have a chance to reconcile and have a better end, thats all there is.)

Part of The Lion, the Coeurl and the Cub AU

——

“For what good is a Sword that delivers but fails in his purpose?”

The words of a ghost haunts him as Cor cracks another curative over Nyx’s unconscious form. His fever rising higher by the hour. To the point Cor is resorting to his rare use of magic, commanding a low blizzard spell from a magic flask to try and cool down the wounded Glaive’s temperature. The potions do not seem to be working, even their meagre handful of elixirs. However if there is anything the Cor Leonis excels at, is at being a stubborn man.

Cid’s basement is quiet. Its late, and they had moved Clarus earlier to another place to get his arm amputated properly. His son is keeping watch over Royals. Whereas Ignis and Gladio focus on the the Shield and the wounded. Monica, ever the reliable one, had jumped in and taken over command of the Crownsguard, and overseeing evacuation of civilians. Last he heard, Monica and Dustin had safely taken some civilians towards Lestallum, including Iris and Augustus Scientia. The remaining Kingsglaives though, thankfully, had some sort of system in place amongst themselves by Nyx, keeping watch or capturing the deserters to be dealt with later. Crowe herself leading the charge. Hell hath no fury like a woman filled with vengeance.

He should have told Nyx something was wrong. He should have been there. He was the elder one between them, a veteran, and he had already suspected early on there was something dark in the works. Especially with his given orders.

Should anything go wrong, evacuate the residents and aid Noctis in his duty as King of Light with the arms of his forebears. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The Marshal should not have left the Crown City to its pitiful defences.

But could you go against your orders? Huh, soldier? A voices whispers darkly in the back of his head. A question Cor had already knew the answer to unfortunately.

They made a vow to put their duty first. Family after. This was non-negotiable by any means and one they understood before they starting seeing each other intimately. Yet, Cor wonders now if he had been wrong, as the dim light of Cid’s stale smelling basement casts a hard shadow on his husband’s battered and broken form.

The Lucian does not remember when his hands started shaking as he pulls the blanket tighter around his husband. When he had first stepped into the middle of the battlefield for the first time facing the MTs that came in waves? Or when he had came face to face with Gilgamesh’s blade? Cor is not sure. Though he is certain that he was broken from long ago. His tears had disappeared upon his father’s sudden passing. Corwin Leonis could never cry again since. Not even at his mother’s quiet funeral did he shed a tear. All of his feelings buried away as he chases target after target with his blade endlessly, one after another. If these feelings are dampened, then things would be easier. Simpler…No?

Everything had all started with a dream and a stranger. The couple had long known about Cor’s ability to see premonitions, possibly due to his closeness to Prompto. Though they were never vivid, just feelings and flickers of visions with undecipherable meaning. This one however, had stood starkly apart from the rest with strange whispers echos in the hollow void.

A wanderer in a colourless world, the frail back of an old man sitting alone in a dark room faces him. Bright rays of the sun filters in between the blinds but does little to brighten the sparse room.

“Death is a lonely passage all will take. Soon you will see, when you die with your regrets, they make poor companions, and even poorer guides.” The old man finally speaks. Cor freezes in his step right behind the aged armchair that looks close to falling apart.

“I thought I had found my purpose as I stepped into the battlefield as a boy.They were my only family for years. Yet I failed them too.”

“To complete my duty, I gave up everything. Even my own life and a family. All to obey and serve. In the end, I outlived my purpose, and even the children. Though in time, what do I have left? Do I even deserve to ask?”

Cor cannot speak, but is forced to listen to the regrets of a dying man.

Suddenly, in the corner of his eye, Cor spots them. Three old Insignia pins that have lost their shine sits on a coffee table.Cor recognises them as personal Royal Crests of the two Lucian Kings and one Lucian Prince.  As well as a familiar and faded photograph of old friends. In his lap sits a forgotten pair of katanas that was once the man’s pride. Katanas he is intimately and utterly familiar with.

“What use is even there being an Immortal, if not to mock me for my failure to achieve nothing in this life?”

Cor hisses between his teeth as a chill runs down his back, the Marshal then breaks away from invisible chains and strides over to grab the shoulder of the stranger who laughs brokenly as a mirror of his eyes meet him half way. Eyes of a broken soul.

“For what good is a Sword that delivers but fails in his purpose? Huh? Corwin Leonis.”

The old Marshal grabs Cor’s hand. A striking pain in his head as a noise fills his ears and he lets go. Cor sees flashes of memories. A departing prince and his retinue including his son. A fallen Insomnia that burns, ruined and wasted, swarmed with daemons. The lifeless bodies of his brothers amongst the rubble. A lone Kukri without her master, that lays quietly amongst the rubble…

He recognises the beaded charm on the kukri just as the startling realisation leads him back into a waking world.

His body now covered in cold perspiration, his chest tight and heaving uncomfortably while his ears ring with white noise. Until Nyx’s sudden snores snap him back into reality, and he holds his oblivious husband snoring on his chest a little closer in self reassurance.

The Immortal Shogun is not superstitious be any means. But this? This shook him deep as a sense of dread unsettles the man to the core.

After the lapse in security years ago, even though Clarus is the head of the Crownsguard, Cor has since kept a tighter rein over the his own jurisdiction. The Marshal slowly planting eyes amongst the Lucian Council and the guards, especially those with connections. However, there is one place he cannot reach despite his seniority in rank and the fact his husband and his kin are there. The Kingsglaive.

It is precisely because his husband is a high enough figure in the Kingsglaive, he cannot risk endangering him either. To give him a possibility to doubt his own division might be a death sentence for him out on the field. No, the Marshal must find other ways if he were to try and dabble in Drautos’ domain without looking like he is.

Some time ago, he had turned down the request of young hunters in his network wanting to join the Kingsglaives to aid Lucis in its cause. The young ones,golden haired and full of freckles and life, reminded him too much of his own boy. Although now, tensions have escalated too quickly, their army shrinking with Niflheim drawing nearer to their borders. The increasing secrecy between Regis and Clarus… Cor then began to reconsider the possibilities and his options seriously.

Though for all his ability to calculate and plan ahead ever so meticulously in the battlefield and politics, the Marshal did not account for any of this at the end. Terrorists? Yeah. Niflheim to attack? No surprise. Bloody Drautos and half of the Kingsglaives, traitors? Cor curses the fucker and those turncoats to Pitioss and back, just so he can rip them apart himself.

He works alone more often than not, a necessary habit born from his duty to the crown and as the King’s Sword. However, his job requires him to command men under him as well. As a commander of the Crownsguard, Cor Leonis is no stranger to losing fellow soldiers and comrades.  Although this time, he actually feels the chilling fear of loss nipping at his heels from a dark cold place.

Cor had argued with Regis and Clarus for a long time even after the Prince and his retinue had left. The air charged and the magic thickens in the room rapidly. Until the King of Lucis had slammed his fist down and darkly told Cor there was no room for negotiation. As Marshal, he can only obey his given orders. The Lord Shield silent and unmoving. In that moment, Cor Leonis can barely recognise the men he have come to call brothers. He simply gave a stiff salute, and departs.

The day of the treaty, he had been stationed at the borders helping with evacuation and holding off waves of Niflehiem infantry until a frantic Crowe slams into the Immortal Shogun in the midst of the panicking crowd. The mage that was declared AWOL now sporting a gruesome injury on her face as she reveals Titus Drautos as traitor with half of the Glaives. Her initial mission had been a trap. Cor had been unable to receive any news from the City, so when they hurried back into Insomnia, he dreads to think of the worst.

They stood by this reckless child alone on the battlefield and accepted him as their own.  Titles and upbringing aside, they were the ones that raised him after he left home, cared for him in all his stupidity and stubbornness. Even after the disagreements in their group, Cid and Wesk still watches out for their youngest out on the field every now and then. Regis and Clarus, ever so supportive by his side as he had climbed the ranks, having his own family. Yet in the final moments he remembers of them were the barriers raised and built between…Where had it all gone wrong, Cor wonders.

There was a loud crack and Cor’s entire being froze. The sudden emptiness and a sharp shatter in the back of his mind as the power disappear from his bones. He sees Crowe frantically turning to him, alarmed. The connection with Regis’ magic had vanished in that instant. The Marshal fears his dark premonitions have come to pass. His beloved brothers were gone.

Until miraculously, they run straight into the very people they sought.

Cor makes a quick glance and his heart shakes. There was Regis and Clarus. Albeit worse for wear, especially the Shield. The Oracle with them as well. All accompanied by Libertus and the Glaives, who were crying in joy at seeing Crowe alive. Guardsman Fortis, as well as the young hunters he had sent in as spies. Cor felt the cool wash of relief come over him. Which was as fleeting as a moment as the stone drops in his gut once more.

“Where’s Nyx?”

The entire squad becomes quiet, neither willing to answer the higher ranking officer demanding to know where he was. Until he sees Regis’ worried eyes betraying their silence, as he follows his gaze to the battling statue of the Mystic and Diamond Weapon in the distance at the heart of disaster.

The Marshal blanks out. No more plans or any appropriate follow up, absolutely nothing. His hand mindlessly reaching for the precious beads he have taken with him before leaving home, hidden in the breast pocket close to his heart. A conflicting set of feelings fills him as he watches the battle continue on in a sea of flames. They both have sworn into duty, and his was to see the Royals’ safety. Yet he cannot bring himself to move.

Regis obviously notices his youngest brother’s still form and immediately knows. The King lets out a cry of withheld frustration. Before he pulled Cor’s leather coat open and all but ripped the Marshal’s Royal Insignia pin from inside. The symbol of him as his retinue and Marshal of Lucis.

An unofficial dismissal.

“I am but a fool who has been blinded for far too long. I will not stand for anymore needless sacrifices! There is a dozen of us here! We are fine! Go to him quickly, my brother! There’s time, his magic with the Lucii is still strong! HURRY! ” Regis grips on his shoulder tightly, hoping. There, Cor sees his older brother once again behind those strained eyes with a myriad of feelings and words unsaid.

“I-“

“Brat! I bloody swear-” Clarus chokes out from beside Pelna, struggling to face Cor.  The older man still has fight in him yet. “-Hurry up and go!”

“The most precious gift is the freedom to choose in Life. How will your duty weigh against your heart that remains true?” A familiar voice whispers in the back of his mind, chiming with clarity. Words of a mother to her son. He never quite understood what prompted her to suddenly bequeath him those words in its entirety. Now he knows.

Cor needs not think more, he clasps his hand over Regis’ own on his shoulder and nods towards Clarus. A quiet acknowledgement between them and a promise, before Cor sprints ahead into the heart of chaos. His katanas cutting apart all that stood in his way.

Dawn slowly breaks when he finally finds him at long last. The Lucian spots his fallen husband amongst the remnants of destruction. Cor runs over his battered body and rummages a Phoenix Down with some Elixirs and cracks them over the wounds. Nyx is still breathing but so, so very weak. His left arm shaking and skin crumbling like ashes in the wind. The magic burns stands out like a grim reminder, taunting. Cor hugs his partner close, muttering soft galah in attempt to comfort the younger man in pain. Or are they more for his own shaken self? Cor is uncertain.

Until he notices in not far away, was bloody accursed Drautos clad in Glauca’s ruined armor.

The high commander of Niflheim’s corpse unmoving and still, with kukri lodge in his chest, its charm flittering in the wind. Cor snarls and lays Nyx down slowly, storming over to retrieve his husband’s beloved kukri back. The older soldier drives the blade in again, hard and deep, before he kicks the traitor in his ceaseless rage and screams. The wretched traitor deserves nothing. For he had been the source of suffering for so many. So much senseless grief, loss and death for years and years.

And now, here they are.

Cor stops reminiscing and slumps over his husband tiredly, careful not to jostle the wounds, resting his eyes while pressing his forehead against Nyx’s. All while keeping his palm steady after cracking another magic flask, with the cooling spell cast over Nyx’s injured arm, in faint hope that it eases the magic burns. The Galahdian’s left side utterly torn and destroyed by the power of the Lucii. His breathing shallow and pained. There is little he can do but wait for Nyx to awaken on his own.

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better. I swear.” Cor whispers softly in a sigh as his clan beads clink softly in its place under his shirt along with his dog tags, right near his heart.

In another life, Cor thinks he might have resigned to being alone, content with a life by himself and his swords. Fulfilling a simple purpose of a Marshal of Lucis. Forever serving the line of Kings. Even years earlier as a younger man, he never thought of another life other than one as a soldier. Yet now, he can barely picture one without his husband or his son beside him. Or one without his fellow brothers in all but blood. He has been granted love and he is now not afraid to love in return. Not when they had given him a better meaning to live. A stronger purpose rather than empty servitude for eternity.

He refuses to return being alone once more.

“You know, usually on tv the main character gives a kiss to the lover before rolling in the credits?”

Cor opens his tired eyes to meet the bright azure orbs he knows. The voice, scratchy and rough but laced with familiar humour. There he is. Finally.

“I though I told you that you need to stop being a damn hero. Why are you always so impulsive?!” Cor breathes shakily once he finds his own voice.

“I can say the same to you! I told you to stop doing shit alone, especially something big!”Nyx argues back, unwilling to back down even in exhaustion. “This is not something as simple as a confidential mission, Cor!”

“Yes, but not if it will get you killed!”

“Sorry but you aren’t getting rid of this lovely ass for a damn long time, babe.”

“Fuck you, Ulric. Just, fuck. You.”

“I d- Cor. Cor? What’s wrong? Haqabi…Wha-Hey, you’re seriously scaring me here… ” Nyx begins to struggle and sit up in panic and Cor has no idea why as his chest tightens in heaves. Until he feels Nyx pulling up his good hand towards his face and rubs the corners of his blurry eyes.

Ah.

A cool wave of relief washes over with a quiet ache, and Cor gladly lets all of his emotions take him.

.

.

.

——-

“Better?” Nyx asks carefully as they lay down together after a long while. With the older man buried against his not-so-messed-up side.

“Hn.” Cor grunts inaudibly into his shoulder, not meeting his eyes. The toll and exhaustion finally catching up with the Immortal.

Nyx tries to rub his back reassuringly, murmuring softly sweet nothings in galah tiredly. The dim lamp creaks as the quiet brings a lull which calms to their weary souls. Both exhausted and shaken by everything that has transpired. No matter what happens, they would have each other, and their little family.

Yet there are certain things that would never change between the two.

“Also I think I missed that sorry earlier? Can you repeat it? I think I didn’t hear it quite properly.”

Cor shoves his husband away as the younger man cackles between his painful hisses. Before the Lucian drags his gremlin over for a kiss to shut him up.

.

.

.

——-

Extra:

“I Am. Not. Moving! Over my dead body! Not until Cor is out!”

“But! Sir, your arm-“

“NO!”

“If we make them leave, we’re fucked, if we don’t make them leave, the Marshal will fuck us over.” Ladon Gyuri bemoans to his fellows over the angry Shield behind them.The old warrior positively fuelling on anger and spite at this point despite his gaping wound. “We’re dead.”

The comment earns him a smack and several curses from them all, “Don’t jinx us, idiot!”

Far along the highway with a hijacked truck, the exhausted crew remains in hiding. The King and Shield of Lucis are adamant in waiting for their youngest brother. Much to their guards’ dismay at their stubbornness.

After what seems like an eternity struggling with their charges, Crowe and Yuri, who were keeping a lookout from their perch on top of the truck, lets out a yell. A figure wandering down the ruined road leading out of Insomnia. No, two. One carried by the other.

Regis steps out of hiding and finally breaks into a smile for once in this entire disaster when he sees them.

——

And there we go!The last long fic for this AU! TwT will beta read when i feel less terrible edit: found a plot hole lol, *tosses Cor his damn magic flasks*

Song for this ficlet: FF8 Compression of Time, FF9 Rose of May (Cor’s JP VA is a may baby, the coincidence!)

[omniswords]

Keep What Remains, Part V [Gladiolus Amicitia/Reader]

“What do you think about holding onto something when you’ve lost everything else?” Remember how Gladio mentioned getting a girlfriend during all those years of darkness? Here’s how that happened. Spoilers up to Chapter 13 of the game, so proceed with caution!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

You probably wouldn’t have recognized Iris if she hadn’t recognized you first. At Cape Caem, she was a bright little thing with a penchant for clashing patterns and mid-heeled boots and collecting seashells near the haven along the beach. Her hair was cropped short back then, and her eyes were as full of possibilities as her voice was full of expectation and conviction.

Now she sat across from you at a restaurant in the middle of a worn-out Lestallum, toying with a braid that hung just past her shoulders and clenching her fists in a pair of worn fingerless black gloves. She’d traded in the tartan skirt for a cropped leather jacket, but her old wristbands and the heels on her boots had stayed, at least. And the light wasn’t necessarily gone from her eyes, but it was dimmer now. Carved into something that didn’t hesitate to kill. Something you thought was never supposed to belong to her.

She didn’t speak much, only examined the menu with a raised eyebrow, then sighed as she peeked over it and laid it on the table. “Okay,” she finally said. “Talk.”

“I feel like I should be telling you that,” you mused, only pausing your conversation to place your orders with the waitress who came by.

“Yeah?” Iris traced one finger around the rim of the glass. “What gives you that idea?”

Your answer, amid the dull roar of other conversations, was to gesture vaguely at her with a pointed look, and she laughed and tossed her braid over her shoulder. As if that were meant to excuse just about everything.

(Well. At least she could remember how to laugh in all this.)

“I’ve been around,” she said between sips of ice water. “You know. Selling clothes to leftover glaives. Training with an immortal marshal the minute I turned eighteen. Kicking ass and taking names.” She grinned, entirely proud of herself. Maybe she should have been. “They call me the Daemon Slayer now, did you know? I guess you could say made a name for myself in three years.”

“I probably would, if the Daemon Slayer had thought to call every once in a while.” You paused. “Wait… you trained with Cor Leonis?”

“The one and only. I’d still be the fighter I was six years ago if it weren’t for him.”

“Assuming you fought at all six years ago.”

“You’ve obviously never seen me take on some imperial goons with my brother.”

“Of course not, considering I only just met your brother a few months ago.” You rested your elbows on the table, your eyes never tearing away from hers. “Were you ever planning on introducing us, or was he doomed to be Tall, Dark, and Beefy for the rest of my life?”

Iris nearly choked on her water as she laughed, thanking the waitress for her concern once the food arrived. “And risk some twisted parent-teacher conference type thing? Gods, no way.” This time, she was the one to pause, brow furrowed and lips quirked. “How’d you run into Gladdy, of all people?”

Without meaning to, and even though she really should have gone first, you talked, related what you wanted to of the time you’d spent with Gladio and left out the parts that were better left thought about in the quiet dark. When you were finished, you settled back in your chair, fork and knife in hand, and waited for Iris’s verdict.

Which was, of course, a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “You hear that?” she said.

“Um.” You blinked. “Hear what?”

“Wedding bells,” she said in a gleeful whisper, with everything she used to be in between those algebra equations. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her mischief. The chances she had to be young.

You rolled your eyes. “More like the sound of you distracting from the real matter at hand. As usual?”

“Uh huh. The real matter being?”

“How you became… well…” You managed a nod in her direction, just as vague as before. “This.”

Silence fell between the two of you, and Iris’s expression grew solemn, stony. Like she’d aged those six years all over again, right in front of you. “After the Scourge hit hard,” she began, voice dipping eerily low. “Back when Noct—uh, the Prince—disappeared. Things started happening. Things I wished I’d never had to see, and believe me, I’ve seen plenty.” Her grip on her fork tightened, knuckles whitening under the streetlight. Her eyes were hard and glittering again. “The daemons ran me and Talcott out of Caem. You remember him, right?”

Of course. How could you forget? He was the one kid who made Cactuars worth tolerating. You worked them into extra credit questions any opportunity you had—it made success all the more vindicating, personal, when he got them right. You didn’t want to imagine him—young and impressionable, with his whole damn life ahead of him—in the face of a daemon, fearing for his life and looking for a place in the dark to run. Hadn’t the loss of his grandfather been enough? Hadn’t he already grown up too fast?

“He’s all right, isn’t he?” you asked.

“As all right as anyone scared out of their home could be. He’s in Hammerhead now, helping out wherever he’s needed. Kinda makes for a good distraction, I guess. Or maybe it helps him feel like he’s doing something good for the world. Hard to tell what goes on in his mind these days You know Cindy Aurum?”

You pursed your lips. “I know… of Cindy.”

“Yeah. He and Prompto are pretty much at her beck and call these days. She really knows how to keep the guys under her thumb.” There was that spark in her eyes again, the thing that made them light all over again. “Oh, wait, have you met Prompto? He’s not around here much, but he comes from time to time. Sometimes Lestallum has supplies the garage doesn’t, and he’s always the first to volunteer to drive up.” She rolled her eyes. “Gee, I wonder why…”

You shook your head, and Iris looked away, something wistful in her expression. You wondered if maybe you should have known him. If you were supposed to have met him, once upon a time.

“He’s a character,” she finally declared, covering up her expression with a smile as muted as her voice, one you had a feeling had become more typical over the years. “I hope you see him soon. Eyes like his? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Now who’s the one setting off wedding bells, huh?”

Iris laughed, hollowly, and shook her head, peeling off her gloves and shrugging out of her jacket, revealing feathery streaks of ink along her arms that you recognized almost instantly. “Nah. No time for stuff like that,” she said, with all the despair of someone who’d been hoping for it her whole life.

She told you a lot of things you’d never expected her to say between bites of food. That half of the time she hunted alone—partly because she knew she could do it, and partly because Gladio did, too. The other half of the time, she worked alongside some ex-mercenary from Niflheim, as though she was worth trusting. Said they sometimes went out into the wilderness together—“Slay for Pay,” Iris called it with a proud grin, like she’d made up the damn slogan herself, and she probably had—and sometimes took on relief efforts together. But who was there to relieve when people were cooped up in pockets of the world or slowly succumbing to this darkness and disease that was older than any of them?

Or were they relieving half-deteriorated people, salvaging what they could and doing what they willed with the rest?

You swallowed hard. Your grip on your fork tightened.

Aranea Highwind, Iris said her name was. That was a name with command. A person worth aspiring to. You’d never met her, either—though maybe, based on description alone, you’d seen her pass through town once or twice—but Iris’s words were enough to convince you, and maybe herself, too. As though she still needed convincing, after working alongside such a woman for so long.

She called it all—thriving, loving, anything—she called it “stuff like that” as though it hadn’t meant a thing to her. Or as though it had, but wasn’t supposed to anymore, not in the face of all that training, all that fighting, everything for whatever greater good she was working for. It wasn’t worth asking yourself how long Iris had lived like this, or forced herself to, or how much of it she’d picked up from her brother; an invisible hand snatched your heart and clenched all the blood out of it before your mind was halfway through the question.

Before the two of you parted ways that night, and after you’d exchanged phone numbers to keep in touch again, you jammed your hand into the pocket of your jeans, fingers curling tight around the dog tag, and asked, “Iris? what’s your last name?”

With a curious expression and without missing a beat, Iris replied, “Hester, why?”

You frowned, unwavering, the chain digging into your palm. “What’s your real last name?”

The expression faded almost as quickly as it had come. “How did you know?”

This time, you managed a weak smile and shook your head, thumb pressing into each engraved letter, feeling for that traitorous A. If she had secrets of her own, then who was to say you couldn’t have yours, too? “You and Talcott never looked anything alike.”

With a look that toed the line between amused and defeated, and a smile that pulled her lips taut, she sighed, and spoke more to the ground than you as she pulled her gloves back on, covered up her ink. “Amicitia. Iris Amicitia. And if anyone asks, I never told you.”

———

You’d been thinking about it for days.

Gladiolus Amicitia. That was his goddamn name. Of course it would roll off the tongue better than Gladiolus Hester, but all this time you’d chalked that up to some unfathomable reason that he went by “Gladio” instead.

There wasn’t a damn person in the country who wasn’t familiar with the Amicitia name. It was almost as famous as the line of royalty—practically required reading for a history class. For as long as there’d been a Lucian king, there’d been an Amicitia beside him, protecting him right down to the teeth. You’d known plenty of that from the news alone—the name “Clarus Amicitia” was just as ingrained in the news as “Regis Lucis Caelum.” Journalists and news broadcasters alike called him the Third Wall of Lucis sometimes. Said there was no way the king could fall if his shield didn’t fall first.

(They stopped calling him that after the treaty signing. Maybe it seemed disingenuous to remember him for a role he couldn’t fulfill.)

And how long had Gladio and Iris had to grapple with this, anyway? Did they even allow it, or did they keep it to themselves all this time?

You could have noticed the signs of hiding in Gladio, at least, as much as he probably didn’t want you to know about it. You should have noticed it, by all accounts. The hesitation whenever you mentioned his family or where he came from, the knit in his brow and the pauses in his response, the way he said so automatically that protection ran in his blood. Like he was supposed to be a third wall of his own. Or maybe a first, all things considered. Of course it made sense to you, in the moment, to attribute that to the fact that everyone had lost someone in all these years. Maybe you weren’t supposed to realize the scope of what he’d lost. Maybe he’d spent all these years trying to suppress it himself.

You hoped to the gods that wasn’t all you were good for, ins his eyes.

Your fingers found the solitary A more easily now that you were alone in your apartment—sometimes when you didn’t even want to find it. It was almost like it wanted to be found, every single time, to remind you of what you weren’t sure you wanted to know. Absence was supposed to make the heart grow fonder, and so was the weight of the dog tag, or so you thought. But every time you clasped it in your hand, it seemed to deflect all your warmth, hold every possibility you didn’t want to think about.

Not the least of which was the possibility that it would never return to him.

You shook your head.

For all the times you held onto the dog tag, there was still a part of you that couldn’t take it out of your pocket. A part of you that wanted to hear whatever his explanation was, and not whatever proverbial words you were putting in his mouth. Why he’d held this information out for so long, why he didn’t seem to trust you with it the way he trusted you with his taste in books and his safety in the middle of the night, why he’d outright lied to you—

No.

No.

Your heart twisted in its cage. You couldn’t call it lying. Even if you should have, even if it made it easier to parse out or justify whatever unnameable thing you felt whenever you tried to imagine this Cindy character at work in your head, you couldn’t. She had nothing to do with this besides.

Because you weren’t married.

And Iris, what about her? Of all people—you could still hear the phrase in her voice, crisp and jagged with war instead of crystalline—you would have figured she’d be proud of her own heritage. That she might have gone around brandishing the title of Lady Iris, or touting something about never underestimating the power of an Amicitia, because that was what they were. The kind of superhero strength you only ever read about in comic books. So what was she doing slipping around dark alleyways and half the Lucian kingdom, saying that she never told you what she told you? Or, rather, what you’d pulled out of her?

What in the world was there to be so secretive about when identity was next to the only thing people had in all this mess? When they hadn’t had salvation or light or a goddamn prince for years upon years?

And what in the world were you doing sitting here waiting for the answers to just come to you like some information dump?

Iris had given you enough to work on. There was a library in town. You could look up whatever you needed—whatever Gladio was to you, his lineage wasn’t exactly under lock and key. It wasn’t as disingenuous or, frankly, creepy, as looking up a total stranger you’d met eyes with more than a few times on some social media platform.

Or, at least, that was how you tried to convince yourself in the moment. And if that didn’t work, then what was wrong with hitching a ride to Hammerhead yourself? Talcott was a good enough reason to go; there was no reason he wouldn’t remember or welcome you. Maybe he was unreadable these days, but you’d be hard-pressed to believe there was no longer a genuine bone in his body.

Hell, you could go right now. What was stopping you? Gladio had been gone for a week and a half now, with no sign that he was okay but the unspoken fact that he wasn’t supposed to die yet, and Iris’s last words to you were still ringing in your head.

“What are you doing with your life?” you’d asked her before you parted ways, like maybe you could make sense of something before you were left to your own devices.

Iris only took a breath, jammed her hands in her pockets, and said, “What I’m meant to do,” before turning on her heel and hopping up onto the pickup truck just outside of town.

And so was Gladio, wherever he was.

And so was the prince—or so you and everyone else alive hoped.

And so were you. Or, at least, you were about to.

A knock at your door, slow and heavy, drew your attention just as you were grabbing your satchel. You weren’t expecting any company, hadn’t invited any students; in fact, it was supposed to be your day off. For a moment, you cursed yourself for not having a peephole, and years of looters and fake-polite strangers had taught you to keep an aluminum bat by your coat rack.

With a deep breath and cautious motion, under the scrutiny of a near-invisible eye, you curled your fingers around the grip of the bat, muscles tensing as though ready to strike—and you unlocked the door.

The last thing you expected to see was Gladio standing there, a death grip on the doorway far above your head and a half-soaked bandage wrapped around his middle. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with every sharp but quiet breath, and his eyes flickered toward yours, full of whatever light they caught from your living room. There was a wear in his expression, something that said Help me and I told you so all at once—something that drew you in so much that you barely registered that you could see his bare chest at all.

Still, your bat fell to the floor with a clatter, thudding mutely where it hit the rug; if Gladio winced, it wasn’t because of the sound. You took a step back, but he didn’t take a step forward. He stayed stationary in the hall, like some supernatural creature, risen from the half-dead and only mobile on your word.

Gladio said, “I’m not staying at the Leville.”

You said, “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Heart of Thunder - Chapter 06

I finally, finally did it! Link to AO3 as always.

There wasn't much time to prepare. Pitioss, there wasn't even enough time to think clearly. Half an hour. Half a fucking hour. Damn Cor Leonis and that roguish glint in his too pretty blue eyes. That man was secretly laughing at him, Nyx just knew it.

He practically warped out of the front door of the Crownsguard headquarters, ignoring the stares it earned him as he sprinted down the street of the governmental district and into the training facilities for the Glaive. The door of his locker gave an ominous creek as he practically ripped it from its hinges. Nyx was so glad he hadn't been able to leave the necklace at home. This was something he had made with his own two hands and was intended for who was supposed to be the most important person in his life.

Cor Leonis was filling this spot far faster than Nyx had anticipated or even expected in the first place.

All eyes were on him as he ran into the mess hall, doors banging against the wall and a manic glint in his eyes. He plugged Libertus from the line of those waiting for their meal and dragged him by the arm to where he saw Luche sitting with his usual crowd.

“Nyx? Hey stop, damn it. What's gotten into you?” Libertus complained.

Nyx didn't listen, too focused on the shrinking window of time he had left.

Luche raised an inquiring eyebrow but didn't get the chance to say anything.

“I need you to be my witness, Luche of Clan Lazarus,” Nyx rushed so say, formal but also not, because there was no time.

The blond stopped and blinked, his eyes widened the tiniest bit in surprise. Next to him Tredd choked on his food and both Sonitus and Axis slowly turned to look at each other.

“Wait, now?” Libertus sputtered. “I thought you would need at least a week to organize this. You just finished your Gift of Acceptance yesterday!”

“Nyx wants Luche to witness a gift giving?” Axis asked flabbergasted, and honestly rightly so.

While the Ulric and Lazarus Clans had no animosity between them, the weren't allied either. Said Lazarus eyed him in consideration, brows furrowed and fingers tapping along the edge of the table. Nyx quite admirably resisted the urge to show his growing impatience. Something calculating flittered through Luche's grey eyes before it was gone a second later and he nodded his acceptance.

“Lumo varistos,” Nyx said with the sincerity he could muster, which caused even more people to do a double take.

“Where will it be?” enquired Luche as he stood up, leaving his half eaten lunch on the table.

Tredd grinned and pulled the plate closer to himself. Luche scoffed at the redhead's behaviour while the other two sitting at the table just rolled their eyes.

“Why waste a meal?” Tredd shrugged and continued eating the bland food.

“In the Citadel, meeting room 1-1 and we have,” he checked the clock on the wall and felt his stomach flip in anticipation, “fifteen minutes to get there.”

“Couldn't you have told us a bit earlier, you hero? And you owe me a full course meal for this, because of you I'll miss lunch,” complained Libertus and practically pushed Nyx out of the mess hall, Luche right beside them.

The only thing betraying his amusement was the tiny upward tick of his lips.

They made it with barely a minute to spare. Internally Nyx apologized to the poor secretary that had tried to stop them and they had practically bowled over.

Meeting room 1-1 was decked out in all blacks and greys and golds with a large table dominating the room. At its farthest end Cor, the King and the Lord Shield were already waiting for them. The latter two looked surprised at their entrance. The Lord Shield seemed to be ready to say something but a glance from Cor made him back down with a frown on his face.

“Your Majesty, Lord Shield,” Nyx greeted with a bow Libertus and Luche copied.

“Sir Ulric,” the King answered with a shallow nod. “I take it there's a reason for you and your companions to be here?”

At the deceptively mild tone in the King's voice Nyx very carefully did not show how nervous he was. Damn it, he had always imagined meeting his fiancée's family to be less nerve wrecking. Probably because he had always thought he would court another Galahkar and not a Lucian.

“Yes, your Majesty,” he said clearly.

Not really having the mind for pondering further what the King and the Lord Shield might be thinking, he stepped further into the room and Cor met him halfway. Conscious of the Lucian audience he did not lean in to greet his fiancée with a touch of their foreheads. Instead Nyx gave him a slightly crooked smile and pulled a small wooden jewel case out of the pouch at his hip. Within, neatly folded up, lay the necklace.

The moment he saw it a quiet wonderment sparked within Cor's eyes and left a warm glow of pride deep Nyx' chest. Carefully, he picked the necklace up and held it so everybody in the room could see it.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Libertus giving him a discreet thumbs up and Luche not so subtly gaping at it. Nyx nearly burst out laughing at the sight. He did not look directly at the King or his Shield in fear their reaction would make him loose his nerves. Which honestly was quite cowardly.

But even if he had wanted to look, he wouldn't have been able to. The moment he looked up from the necklace, Cor's eyes captured him. His gaze felt like a shower of warm summer rain on his skin.

As subtly as he could he cleared his throat and held his Gift of Acceptance out towards his fiancée.

“Yesterday you gave me a precious gift, one I readily accepted. You did so observing the traditions of my culture, though you don't know them, though they aren't your own. Cor of the Leonis line, yesterday you gifted me with the symbol of my Clan and I became part of your family. Today, under the watchful eyes of your family and mine, I give you my answer and with it will become part of my own family and my people, should you accept.”

To Nyx it felt like his mouth had been moving on its own, as if another person had taken over part of his body and he was just along for the ride. Had Libertus secretly asked for help from one of his ancestors? He better not have. Hunting-brother or not, this was something that he had to do without help from beyond the Gate.

It was only because Nyx was staring so intently at his fiancée's face that he noticed his eyebrow tick up minutely in astonishment. Had he forgotten to mention that? No, no he was pretty sure he had explained that part.

For a long second there was silence and Nyx had to bite his tongue as to not embarrass himself by blurting out more words than he already had. It was Cor's decision to make and Cor's alone. Should he not accept the whole engagement would be called off without either party loosing face, which was the only way to do so in this situation, if he thought about it.

Damn, why hadn't he thought to talk to Cor in more detail about these things?

Calloused fingers brushed along his own and shot warmth up his arm like lightning as they took the necklace from his hand. Curiosity clear on his face now, Cor examined the Gift of Acceptance and Nyx forced himself not to fidget while he did so. The gift was only accepted should Cor wear it. He was perfectly within his right to judge his worth by examining his craftsmanship.

He wondered again if Cor knew what the engraved wing meant, as his attention rested on it for the longest out of all other components. His fiancée fiddled with the slip knots used to adjust the length of the necklace and without further ado slipped it over his head. Just like that.

The causal action took his breath away.

“This is very fine craftsmanship and it's an honour to wear it. Thank you,” Cor said.

Don't blush, don't you dare blush now, Nyx internally admonished himself as the weight of Cor's gaze settled on him again like a blanket. He couldn't help the wide smile, though.

It was a heady feeling, seeing his fiancée – also his family now! - wear his gift. It made him giddy and warm from the inside, like he was carrying a sun in his chest. Nyx felt like he was glowing just as brightly.

“Your family and mine as witness, the gift has been accepted,” he managed to say before he forgot.

He would be excused if he did, he thought has he traced how the necklace rested just over his fiancée's collar bones with his eyes.

A pointed cough made him tear his eyes away and come face to face with the King. The man's expression cycled from astonishment to surprise to amusement, back so astonishment and something warm Nyx could not quite place. Next to him his Shield looked like he had been hit by a lightning bolt. All wide eyes and slack jaw. It was nearly comical to see the normally so composed man like that.

“Please explain to me what I just witnessed, Marshall,” the King said with a placid smile that made the fine hairs on Nyx' neck stand on end.

With an uncharacteristic nervous shift Cor turned to fully face the King and simultaneously took half a step closer to Nyx.  They did not quite touch, but to feel the other's body heat was a reassurance all on its own.

“I got engaged,” Cor stated like it explained everything.

Nyx felt his forehead slump against his fiancée's shoulder and bit his lip not to laugh out loud. Libertus' exasperated groan was joined by another one he did not recognize.

A sigh.

“Cor,” said the King and it sounded like exasperation, indulgence and fondness all rolled into one. “What did you do?”

A minute tremor went through Cor's shoulders and Nyx realized that he, too had to keep from laughing out loud.

He lifted his head and stepped up so he stood next to Cor. “Your Majesty, Ser Leonis proposed to me yesterday. As per the tradition of my people, I had to give him my Gift of Acceptance in front of members of his family,” he explained in an attempt to help.

The King tilted his head, eyes curious and considering. “I gather there must not be a blood connection to be considered family.”

“No, your Majesty. It's the people you trust the most on a hunt, those you would follow through life and death and never abandon you through any hardship.”

The King nodded and his eyes fell on the necklace. “This is very good craftsmanship, indeed. Would you perchance be amendable to give me the name of the person who fashioned this piece?”

Nyx blinked and something like indignation flashed through Luche's eyes. Which, fair. That question bordered very close to rude. He raised a questioning eyebrow in the blond's direction, who nodded, surprised.

“I crafted this necklace, your Majesty, as is tradition. A Gift of Acceptance must always be handcrafted. If Majesty is interested in our jewellery, the Lazarus Clan would be the best to contact. Being jewellers has been their traditional occupation since the founding of Galahd,” Nyx hurried to say to soothe some ruffled feathers.

“My most sincere compliments then, Sir Ulric,” the King said with a small smile and then turned to Luche. “Sir Lazarus, I would like to contact a jeweller of your Clan for a commission, if possible.”

Luche's eyebrows nearly vanished into his hairline. “We do take commissions. I will talk to one of my cousins, your Majesty.”

“My thanks,” the King said. “Now. I do not want to keep you gentlemen from your posts, lest you get into trouble with Captain Drautos. Cor, please stay for a moment.”

That was very clearly not a request. Nyx bowed and turned to Cor.  His fiancée gave him a tiny smile, barely an upturn of the corners of his mouth.

“I'll call you after your shift is finished,” Cor murmured.

He leaned in and their foreheads and noses touched. Nyx closed his eyes and savoured the feeling, their breaths mingling gently. For a few moments the world fell away and he basked in the warmth the closeness gave him. Calloused fingers tangled with his own and he forced himself to step away.

“All right,” he smiled, and, with a gentle squeeze of his fingers as a silent good-bye, followed Libertus and Luche out of the meeting room.

None of them spoke until they had left the Citadel.

“A necklace, Ulric, really? And with your own Clan beads? No wonder you asked me to come,” Luche commented with an air of exasperation he normally reserved for Tredd. “And you let him?” he inquired towards Libertus.

His hunting-brother scowled, then shrugged in a what-can-you-do way. “He's an Ulric. They either jump right in head first or not at all.”

“This Ulric is right here and listening. You and everybody else saw what he gifted me. There was no other possible way for me to answer,” Nyx defended himself with a huff.

“That pelt was very impressive,” Luche conceded.

Nyx nodded, pacified. The pelt was very impressive, indeed. At the moment it had a place of honour being draped over his armchair.

“You'll need to officially announce this soon and the both of you need to be seen together during the next storytelling, or the traditionalists are going to have a fit,” Libertus warned as they stepped into the Headquarters of the Kingsglaive.

“I know. I'll talk to Cor about it. We'll also need to speak to Oirkar Arra to register his name as a Clan name.”

“You are really going to introduce him to our culture?” Luche wanted to know.

“It may not have happened often before now, but it did happen. You know how the Furia became a Clan, right?” Nyx asked back.

The blond gave him a look. Of course he knew about it. The Lazarus were allied with the Furia, after all. It would be insulting, if he didn't.

“It might be kind of fun to see how Leonis will deal with it,” Libertus interrupted their stare-down.

Nyx snorted. He wouldn't say fun exactly, but interesting certainly. Wait, did Cor even want to be involved that much? Both Libertus and Luche turned around as Nyx stopped short in the hallway.

“Hey, you alright there, Nyx? Quit dreaming about your other half or we'll be late!” his hunting-brother called, a quiet worry in his eyes.

“I'm coming,” he shot back and shook his head.

This was something he could think about later.

[alia-turin]

Fic Title: Broken Bonds [Chapter XI]   All Chapters: Master List

Rating:M (NSFW) Characters: OC, Libertus Ostium, Cor Leonis,  Luche Lazarus (mentioned), Titus Drautos | Glauca (mentioned), Nyx Ulric (mentioned), Gladiolus Amicitia, Crowe Altius (mentioned), Iris Amicitia, Prompto, Ignis Summary:  Final chapter

Notes: I’m a terrible person. Or am i? Tagging: @birdsandivory @jojopitcher @lazarustrashpit @yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy @fromunseeliecourt

(if you wish to be tagged or untagged, please let me know)

Ada slammed the door of her apartment and stood still for few moments.

“Damn you, Cor.” She whispered in the dark. What could she do? Follow his ‘orders’. Fuck his orders. She wasn’t going to abandon the Kingsglaive again when they needed every able body. First time she didn’t really have a choice, now…

…then again, she didn’t want to go into another shouting match with Libertus. She knew him too well and if Cor had really spoken with him, he would side with Cor. Damn him as well.

Slowly she moved to the closet and pulled out her backpack and started shoving clothes in it. Some of her stuff were at Cor’s place but damn him, he could keep them or burn them, she didn’t really care.

Maybe that was for the best. After all, neither she nor Cor were big on sharing and talking about feelings. It always took a fight or some other similar situation for one of them to say something about how they felt about each other. She had to be extremely angry to spit out in her rage that she loved him. But there was that, love or no love, Cor Leonis could go and order someone else around.

Ada had loved two men in her entire life, still loved both of them and couldn’t be with either of them. One was dead, the other couldn’t understand what she was telling him. She wasn’t Cor’s girlfriend or lover or partner or whatever. She was a Glaive and had a duty before being Cor’s anything. She shouldn’t have gotten involved with him. She should have stuck to loving one man, a dead man, but at least all the damage he could have done was already done. Luche couldn’t come from the grave to tell her how to live her life.

“Ada.” Cor knocked on her door very loudly.

“I don’t want to talk with you.” She closed her backpack and went looking for her second pair of boots.

“Ada, I’m not below kicking that door open, I will talk with you one way or another.” He responded and there was still anger in his voice. Didn’t he have enough fighting? Why was he here for more?

She ignored him, he was free to do whatever he wanted with that door, she was going to leave that place anyway. She was strapping her boots to each side of her backpack as a loud thud came. Then a second one and the door opened violently with a crack. Ada was still kneeling next to her backpack she turned around to see Cor, all anger, storm the room and rush towards her. She didn’t have much time to react, while she was attempting to get up he was already on her pinning her against the cold floor.

“Cor, let me go!” she tried to free her hands but he just trapped her wrists harder against the floor.

“No.” he was just standing on top of her icy blue eyes fixed on hers. “I love you. I shouldn’t have ordered you. I should have asked you. I should have told you I love you and that’s why I don’t want you to go to Angelgard.” He said all that in the same breath as if he was practicing all the way from his office to here.

They stood like that neither of them saying anything else. Ada could feel her hands hurting because he was stopping her blood flow, but she didn’t care about that right now. She could try fighting him off her of course, which wouldn’t end in her favour. He was twice her size and weight and his fighting abilities were superior. She also didn’t want to be away from him. She might have spat it in anger but it was true, she did love him, and what he said right now was probably the most romantic thing he ever said. The more she looked into his eyes the harder it was becoming to decide if she wanted to stay or to kick him.

“You are hurting me. My hands.” She said eventually and he eased his grip a bit but didn’t let go of her.

“Will you stay?” he asked moving his face closer to hers, their noses almost touching.

“Cor…” she said that as he leaned further and kissed her neck. “Cor…” he kissed her again. “I love you but…” he continued kissing her and she could feel her mind going in a direction opposite of the anger she felt until now. “I wasn’t angry, because you ordered me. I was, but not only. I don’t deserve the special treatment, I don’t deserve to live and have someone else to die in my place.” He wasn’t stopping his kisses. “Cor, are you listening to me?”

“I’m.” he stopped kissing her which was frustrating, but she wanted to talk.

“Cor, sex won’t fix that.” She said that with as much determination as she could, since sex was a pleasant alternative to arguing.

“Can I try to prove you wrong?” he grinned, but it was obvious he was joking. “Nobody is dying because of you. Your duty is not to die. Yes, I am giving you a special treatment, but I’m doing it only because I love you and I want you to be close to me. You are useful here and I don’t want to lose you. I cannot lose you. That’s the one and only time I have done something to protect you from danger and I have wanted to do it so many other times. Every time you go out on a hunt alone I want to go with you because I’m worried. Every time I know you will ask Monica for a job I want to tell her to give you a broom and make you sweep Lestallum. I know you are capable, by the Six, I know if you decide to fight me now you will give me a good run for my money, I will still win, but I know you are strong and I don’t doubt that, I just care about you so much and I don’t want to lose you. Not you. I have lost everything in my life. My best friends died and I was helpless. Half of the Crownsguard died with them and I was helpless. The Prince is gone and I am helpless. There is one thing I can protect and keep whole and that is you. I should have told you all that. Not even today, I should have said it weeks ago, I should have said it the moment I realized I love you.” He sighed. “I don’t think I have ever spoken so much in my entire life.”

Her heart was breaking as she was listening to him. She could understand him far too well. She had lost everything as well in the ruins of Insomnia. Friends, a lover, most of her senses, the ability to smile at silly things, sleep eight hours blissfully and her purpose. Perhaps going to Angelgard was exactly that, finding that lost purpose. She did love him, he made her smile again and feel somehow whole, but was that enough to just ignore her duty. Then again how much of that was her duty? She had followed her so called duty once before, ignoring her heart, allowing it to break, and where did that lead her? She was alive with the knowledge she had stood her ground, but for what? A year of pain and self-destruction? But that was different wasn’t it? It wasn’t about picking sides, and deciding who is right or wrong. It was about how selfish she wanted to be. What was more selfish of her? To leave everything just because he was ordering her to stay, out of love and concern, or to stay with him and let the other Glaives face their destiny.

‘Your unselfish choice fills you with selfishness’ she remembered hearing that somewhere and it somehow fit.

“I will stay.” She said the words barely loud enough for him to hear it. Cor’s lips curved in a smile. “But…you might have to show me how you fix it with sex. And you owe me one from this morning.” she added lauder and smiled back at him.

“Vixen.” Cor laughed and pushed his hips against hers making her feel his hardness.

“Long emotional arguments make you hard?” Ada moved her head up and kissed the smile on his lips.

“Being on top of you and pinning you to the ground does that for me. Adrenalin from arguments as well.” He kissed her cheek and moved down to her neck but he suddenly stopped and stared laughing.

“What?” Ada was confused and a bit disappointed that he had to interrupt his kisses.

“Nothing I just remembered something Clarus, Gladio’s dad, told me some time ago. See, before he married he was a bit like his son, or his son is like him. Lady’s man. Anyway, one day in moment of wisdom or heartache, I’m not sure, he told me that every man meets at least one redhead through his lifetime and they will usually turn his life upside down.” There was warmth in Cor’s voice every time he spoke about old memories of the King or his shield and Ada found that so gentle and kind. So different from the stern, serious man he usually was. “I think I met my redhead.”

“I’m turning your life upside down?” Ada wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer teasingly.

“You make me feel alive. That’s a serious change of pace.” He grabbed her left hand and moved it to his chest. His heart was beating so fast Ada didn’t even need to press her palm against him to feel it. He didn’t say anything anymore, but continued kissing her neck, leaving wet marks. He let go of her hands and moved to unbuttoning her shirt, using the weight of his body as much as possible to keep her pinned to the floor. His movements were filled with lust and desire, he wasn’t gentle but somehow every kiss and every touch of his rough hands felt filled with love. His lips started leaving dark red marks over the exposed skin of her breasts and Ada moaned loudly arching her body towards him as much as his weight allowed her.

“You are mine.” He groaned between kisses as his hands moved between her legs and started undoing her jeans. Ada could feel the heat and desire in her raising, her underwear was already soaked and she wanted him in her.

“Prove it.” She challenged him with a smile and Cor stopped his kisses to look at her.

“You should be careful what you wish for.” With one quick move he pulled her jeans and underwear down. He moved up to remove his t-shirt and unbutton his pants. Ada reached to help him, but he completely ignored her. Without even pulling his pants all the way down, he leaned towards her again, his cold blue eyes pinned on hers and he rammed his full length in her. The sound Ada made was between scream and moan, not expecting the pleasant intrusion. He didn’t wait for her to relax but started moving his hips mercilessly, trying to prove a point. Ada tried to reach for his face, to pull him for a kiss, but her move seemed clumsy and more like a desperate attempt to grab him. She couldn’t silence her loud moans, and the more pleasure she was receiving from him the lauder she was getting.

“Cor..” she managed to say with soar voice between two moans and he leaned forward pressing his lips against her and pushing his tongue in her mouth. His thrusts were still strong and forceful, but pleasant hitting all the right places in her. “Harder.” She whispered in his ear as he pulled away from her kiss. The Marshal didn’t need second invitation for that, he was a good soldier and following orders was easy. He moved one hand between her legs his fingers rubbing her exactly where she needed. Ada could feel her body getting all rigid and she came hard around him, but the Marshal didn’t seem to pay any attention to that. He continued rocking in her hard and fast, her body clenching around him, until he finally found his own release and collapsed on top of her, his chest moving with deep rapid breaths.

They both stood like that, Ada finding his weight on top of her pleasant, trying to come back to her sense, Cor just breathing heavy, his whole body limp and tired.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled as he rolled on the floor next to her, his pants still around his knees.

“What for?” She moved her hand to his chest and lazily started caressing his wet skin.

“If I hurt you, I didn’t mean to.” He pushed himself up and rolled on his side, his eyes staring at hers.

“I do recall asking you to go harder…” Ada smiled and touched his face with the back of her hand. He was so rough and handsome.

“You did?” he seemed puzzled but accepted it. He reached over her to the bed and pulled down the blanket covering both of them. “I was thinking, the Leville has an apartment on the top floor. Why don’t we move there? I need to open the hotel for common use anyway since we are having so many refugees.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Ada could feel her heart beating so fast it felt like trying to break her ribs.

“I am.” he kissed her cheek gently. “We already established we love each other, under terrible circumstances, I guess we can do that one thing right.”

Ada looked around her apartment or more like her room, she had no attachment to this place and the only memories she had associated with it were the occasional night spent with Cor. Somehow, she felt that leaving this dark place would also mean leaving her loneliness and that seemed scary, but not terrifying. Even better, she was happy. She nodded in agreement and he pulled her closer to himself.

“That place needs a new door anyway.” They both laugh as he said that.