#Cor Leonis/Glaives (mentioned)

[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.

[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.”

[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

[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.

[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-”

[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.”

[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.

[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.

[hyperionswrath--archived]

@corleonis45

“You seemed to have missed my point. If you want a challenge, I’m offering to be it. Six, I bet I can manage to take you with me outside of the wall on my next mission. It would get you out of Drautos’ hair for the time being.”

While it wasn’t as common for Cor to take a Glaive with him on missions, he had requested them in the past, usually for a very specific skill set that they could offer. The Crownsguard were fine, but they lacked some of the more technical skills the Glaives trained in, and cross training wasn’t really an option.

Cor shifted his stance to face Seifer entirely, watching as the words hit him about being removed from the Kingsglaive. Without the Glaives, would Seifer have anything left? Cor didn’t think so, not with what information he was privy to. So why act so rash? While they needed men in their ranks, no one was immune to the rules, including Seifer. It wasn’t something Cor expected an answer to, however.

Taking a deep breath, Cor’s gaze shifted back out to the grounds at the mention of ending the war. It had been a question that Cor had asked himself a few times, and he started questioning his answers. “To be honest with you, I really don’t know. We seem to get the upper hand, moving forward two spaces, only to be knocked back ten. If it continues like this…..”

Cor trailed off.

The truth of the matter was that Regis was weak, the ring was killing him faster than they could stop the war. The magic coursing through his veins was becoming too much for his body, yet he refused to pass the title off to his son. He knew what the future held, and wanted his son to enjoy his life a little longer before being forced to wield the ring.

“We just have to continue to push ourselves to be better. Protect those who need protecting, because even if we were to lose, the battles wouldn’t be over for us.”

Blinking, the blond looked at Cor with a certain air of surprise in his eyes. He knew the man to be exceptionally busy and hard to reach, so being offered to either spar with the man or even go on a mission with him positively astounded him. "Huh." Was all he managed that moment, quirking a questioning brow at the man. Not being used to having someone be as patient with him as the Immortal was, Seifer found himself at a loss of what to make of it whenever he interacted with the man. Which was, granted, not all too often. Aversion he was used to, hostility he could handle and answered with belligerence, yet dealing with the metaphorical extended hand of none other than Cor Leonis put him in a state of mystification. "I'd be honored, Sir," he spoke at length, bright green eyes meeting with cold blue ones. Sometimes he wondered what the man saw in him that others didn't. He knew, for one, that Drautos did not much care about what happened to him at this point. In the beginning, it had been the cause of the tall blond lashing out at certain Glaives, and his mannerisms had only worsened from thereon out. A defensive mechanism, no doubt, although Seifer would never call it that. With the conversation shifted to the war, the blond Glaive took a deliberate moment to watch the Immortal whose gaze was drawn to the Training Grounds once again. In a way, Leonis reminded him of someone else. The stoic face, the composure, and calmness, the way leading people came easy to him. Maybe here lay the reason he allowed the man to get closer to him without biting and driving him away. Returning his attention to the conversation at hand, Seifer nodded slightly by way of agreeing with the other. "Hate to say it, but", gesturing vaguely with one hand, his voice lowered so not to be overheard by any possible passers-by, "there is no way we could possibly prevail against the Empire with the forces the King commands." The look of emerald eyes is intense now, no hint of mockery or arrogance within. He had seen the masses of soldiers Glauca had commanded ten years ago, and he had seen enough of the technology mass-producing MTs left and right. They had been outnumbered a long time ago, their only advantage being the King's magic and the power it gifted them. "It would take a strike to the heart of the empire to bring it down with one blow, and I don't see that happening... not anytime soon." No, they were caught in the defensive, not even able to reclaim territory lost to the Empire. They were fighting a losing battle and some Glaives had started to catch up on that. He himself didn't care if he died, having decided long ago that dying on the battlefield against an enemy he once had served, if not under his right mind, would possibly be the only redemption he would ever know.

[secret-engima]

Snippet of Souls of the Sea (Still Belong to Blue Tides)

(since I have no self control and I want to share and some of y’all seem to want to see it, have the snippet I mentioned earlier! In which Nyx’s day goes from Boring to Very Much Not In Just A Few Minutes)

...

     Nyx chewed the piece of ration he’d snitched from Libertus’s pack idly as he settled further on his haunches.

     Keeping watch was so boring. But that was the front line for you. Endless minutes of boring inaction punctuated by total chaos and bloodshed. Still, he would have thought he’d feel more alert than this. This was the furthest they’d ever pushed Niflheim back. Another aggressive, hit and run sabotage campaign from the Marshal paying off with its usual brutal flare.

     He wondered what the Captain would have thought of it, the irony of them making more progress in the two months since Cor the Immortal took over than in all the years Captain had been fighting and bleeding and grouching alongside them. Then he shut that thought down, because wondering about that led to wondering about why Captain had disappeared three months ago and there was no point in thinking about something for which there were no leads or hope. The Captain was still listed MIA, so there was a … thin hope he would return someday, but that would mean he’d been captured.

     Knowing Captain, Nyx thought the man would prefer to be dead than three months a prisoner of the Nifs.

     Something in the air changed, the sensation of a predator watching him from the undergrowth and Nyx kept his shoulders relaxed even as he shifted his heels under him for a better jump and carefully rested one hand on a kukri hilt. He looked around casually, refused to tense up when he saw nothing but the feeling of being watched by a greater predator increased. If it’s another freaking voretooth pack…

     Somewhere to his left, something cracked under the weight of an unseen creature. Nyx stood up, not even pretending to be oblivious as he stared at the wilds outside their temporary base, both hands on his kukri and magic bristling slowly under his skin. He didn’t call out, because it was probably just wildlife that was curious about the foreign presences in its territory. Nifs were rarely this stealthy, considering their love of bombing everything from their ships or unleashing waves of clattering MT units. Still.

     All the hairs on Nyx’s neck were standing up. He breathed and was inwardly startled to taste ocean salt on his tongue. No- not ocean salt. That was impossible. But … there was the impression of it. The impression of ocean salt and hissing waves, the glitter of sleek serpentine scales in the corner of his eyes when it wasn’t there. He inhaled and felt something inside him quiver, something that screamed with the same warning he’d felt when he’d wandered too far from his parents on the shoreline when he was boy, had splashed too deep into unchecked waters and had almost been snapped up by one of the great Silver Serpents that sometimes lurked there as they migrated.

     Then-, a rustle of leaves, a glimpse of a human silhouette in the shadows of the brush. Nyx drew his kukri and raised his voice, sharp and loud —both to be intimidating and to alert the other glaive in the camp that they had company—, “Hey. How about you get out here and introduce yourself rather than lurk? This is a restricted area.” Nothing, Nyx eyed the spot he’d thought he’d seen the silhouette and was disconcerted that he couldn’t see it anymore. No Niflheim soldier was that stealthy in the wilds, that was almost Galahd skill. A refugee perhaps? Or a Hunter taking a shortcut and surprised to find their base, “If you’re a Hunter,” he called cautiously as more glaives scrambled up the wall behind him to see what he was yelling at, “then come out and say so. You won’t be in trouble as long as you don’t cause any.”

     “Nyx?” Libertus breathed in his ear.

     “Someone’s out there, might be alone, might have company.”

     Tredd twitched on his other side, sniffed the air and muttered, “Why do I smell the ocean?” Oh good that wasn’t Nyx’s senses failing him.

     “I have no idea,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth, sensed Libertus shivering faintly out of the corner of his eye, just as alarmed by the eerie aura of an ocean predator nearby as Nyx was. Nyx raised his voice again, “Come out or be considered a hostile!”

     There was a moment where nothing happened and then-. A boy. No warning, no sound of undergrowth, he was just there, a teenager of maybe fourteen years standing just a few yards away, on the very edge of their perimeter, “I’m not an enemy,” he called in a voice that immediately made Nyx revise his mental estimation of from teenager to pre-teen, “are you really Kingsglaive?”

     Libertus narrowed his eyes at the boy still half-hidden in the shadows, “Yeah, and you’re trespassing on our perimeter. Identify yourself!” The boy took a few slow steps out of the shadows, hands away from his sides and safely away from the short sword Nyx could see peaking over his shoulder and Nyx hissed softly.

     The kid was a mess. Thin as a twig, his wrist bones on display beneath tattered sleeves, his cheeks too hollow to be healthy even if he wasn’t drastically underweight, his clothes filthy from endless travel, and his stance wide and cautious. Skittish. Either the Nifs are getting more dedicated in their acting, Nyx thought, or this kid is a refugee. Nyx sheathed his kukri and ignored Libertus’s warning hiss as he jumped down from the wall and approached the kid. The boy watched him with too-sharp, too-old eyes that promised a fight if Nyx tried anything. Nyx leaned down a little so they were closer to eye level, “What’s your name kid, and what are you doing out here?” The boy didn’t look Galahdian. He had no braids and paid no attention to the braids in Nyx’s own hair. But that didn’t mean Nyx’s heart wasn’t already going out to him —Nyx had seen too many Galahdian children in this kid’s position, had seen Crowe in this position, had himself been in this position at one point—.

     The boy took a slightly shaky breath, closed his eyes, then opened them and very slowly reached for the harness holding his sword. Unbuckling it and keeping every movement non-threatening, he held the sheathed gladius in the flat of his palms and turned it so that Nyx could see the battered crest engraved on the hilt, “My name is Gladiolus Amicitia,” said the boy as he looked Nyx in the eyes, “And I would very much like to go home.”

     Nyx reared back as if slapped because that- that was impossible. There was no way this kid was the missing —dead, everyone knew he was dead even if he was officially MIA— son of the Shield. The boy had gone missing in Tenebrae. That was across the entire ocean, through Niflheim controlled waters and then Niflheim-conquered territory. It couldn’t … really be …

     Nyx looked into too-old, too tired eyes that burned a war-aged amber in a too-thin face and found himself believing anyway. Nyx ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the incredulous mutters of the other glaives on the wall, “You got any proof other than that sword, kid?”

     The boy seemed to think, then hesitantly shook his head, “You wouldn’t know the safe words of my line.” He paused, “If- If I could talk to Cor Leonis, or my father, I could prove it.”

     Nyx mentally made peace with the fact that if this kid was not who he said he was then Nyx was going to be in so much trouble and gestured toward the base, “Gimme the sword and we’ll call up the Marshal. How about that?”

     With a grimace the boy turned over his sword and followed Nyx into the base under the incredulous stares of the other glaives. Libertus continued to give Nyx a despairing look as Nyx called up the Marshal using their “important business only” communication line. The Marshal picked up with a curt, “Report.” Because of course he did. Of course he had the number of the emergency communication line memorized or labeled.

     Nyx took a deep breath and bid his career goodbye if this went wrong, “There’s a kid here who insists on talking to you, sir. Showed up on the perimeter with a banged up old gladius bearing a noble crest. He says-.” Nyx hesitated. Even if the line was supposed to be secure, paranoia made him reluctant to say it, “He’s calling a Code Thunderroc, sir.” Code Thunderroc, the unexpected return of an MIA soldier. Closest he could get without blurting it out.

     The Marshal’s voice held a furious growl that made Nyx wince, “What crest.”

     “Amicitia crest, sir.”

     There was a fragile pause, brittle on the other end and then a subdued, “Put him on the line.”

     Nyx passed the phone to the boy, who put the phone to his ear and physically sagged when he heard the Marshal’s voice on the other end, angry as it was. Amber eyes blinked back tears and for the first time the kid looked like an actual kid as he said in a wobbling voice, “Godfather Cor, it’s me. I … I want to go home. Please. I want to see Minn Konungr.”

[creative-frequency]

Bad for Me Ch. 18: I’m Asking You On a Date

Word count: 3585 Pairings: Nyx x OC (Eve Leonis) Notes: I wanna hear y’all yell “FINALLY.” :’’’’’’D

Previous Chapter

Bad for Me Masterlist

It had been almost a month since the Kingsglaive’s return from Duscae. The regions were peaceful again, but no one could have known for how long.

Nyx and Eve’s relationship had entered some kind of stasis. They could be around each other at the headquarters, talk somewhat normally and train together. But in the back of their minds, both of them were wondering what would happen next for them, or should they even try anymore.

Eve had thought a lot about Nyx’s fling of “are we that bad at keeping a secret”. The more she gave it thought, the more it seemed like an apparent solution – A wrong and poor solution. She could no longer deny how much her body was aching in need when they were in the same room. Her mind kept bringing up the memories of their shared night, making her flustered. They both really avoided getting into a situation where they would be left alone as it would have been too easy to slip up into each other’s arms. It was hard enough even when there were other people in their vicinity.

When Nyx smiled, Eve’s heart fluttered. Seeing his playful signature smirk made her melt. When Nyx looked at or talked to Eve, her heartbeat picked up like a small bird. Seeing Eve’s cheeks flush and lips bend in that sweet, light smile made Nyx stutter and swallow.

It was becoming unbearable for both of them.

Eve was sweating. Small, clear beads were travelling on her skin, the gravity pulling them towards the bedsheets. A breath was tickling her ear, whispering sweet nothings that made her already flushed skin redden even more. She grabbed the silky fabric into her fist and tried to keep herself together. She was swaying in a gentle rhythm, but her body craved for a faster pace and more pressure.

A soft, sensual touch traveled on her skin, pressing light kisses on it. Rough stubble grazed her sensitive spots, tickling and making her quiver. Slow strokes made her toes curl. She demanded aloud more than this teasing. She moaned and pleaded. She needed more to gain her release.

“Nyx–” Eve woke up to her own voice calling out loud. She was almost panting.

‘Infernian’s blazing horns, could I not have sex dreams about him now?’ Eve groaned and turned to her side, immensely frustrated. She took her cellphone from the night stand to see what time it was.

“5:47. Just great,” Eve grumbled. She stared at her phone for a moment before setting it back on the table. She buried her face in her palms.

‘You did not just seriously think about booty calling him.’ Eve sat up, wide awake now. ‘And the worst part is that he would definitely comply.’ She toyed for a moment with the thought of going to Nyx’s apartment now; horny and wet from the dream that had stemmed from sexual frustration.

‘Better get a cold shower and head to work.’

By the time Eve arrived to the Kingsglaive headquarters, the city was buzzing with morning traffic and busy people darting in all directions. She gained the occasional long stare because of her uniform, but mostly people just avoided her, not wanting to consort with a refugee even accidently. Eve tried to fill her head with thoughts about the wide break between natural-born Insomnians and the refugees, but it was not nearly as compelling as her sultry dream about Nyx.

Eve headed straight to the empty training grounds to get a hold of herself.

‘I’ll warp until I puke. That should get my mind off him,’ she thought. She stretched lightly and was getting ready to throw her dagger and warp, when the voice of impending doom called out to her.

“Good morning, Eve,” Nyx said casually.

Eve yelped and turned swiftly. “Nyx! G-good m-morning,” she answered her voice stammering. ‘Idiot. It’s not like he can read from your face that you dreamed about him.’

“Are you all right?” Nyx asked raising his brow. Eve was acting like a timid moogle from the cartoon and not at all like her usual self.

“Of course! I was going to practice!” she laughed nervously and motioned towards the arena behind her.

“Okay… Don’t let me keep you from it,” Nyx said slowly and his hand flew to scratch the back of his neck. His eyes fell on the floor, avoiding Eve’s.

Eve turned, joyful that the conversation was already over.

Nyx cleared his throat.

“Actually, I wanted to have word with you… If that’s all right,” he confessed. ‘I need to get this off my chest. Then I can move on. I should be able to move on. Maybe.’

Eve winced. ‘A word? No way.’

“Uh, sure?” she said and inhaled, holding her breath.

“Let’s go somewhere more private…” Nyx suggested motioning behind him.

‘Private? No way.’ Eve grimaced. “Uh, sure.”

Nyx led them to the empty corridor surrounding the training area. It was still early compared to the usual time when most of the glaives would arrive at the headquarters. Nevertheless, Nyx looked around to make sure no one was within hearing range. He had arrived so early at work that day to warm up in the training grounds before facing Eve. Now he had to do without.

‘Just say it,’ Nyx urged himself and breathed deeply before opening his mouth. Eve was gawking at him in nervous anticipation.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He stared at her anxiously.

She stared back with an unreadable expression. “Take what?” Eve asked flustered.

Nyx gave her a frown. “You know what��–he gestured between them–“This. Us.”

‘I guess I would have been right about that response to a booty call.’ Eve groaned awkwardly. “Please don’t put this on me now, Nyx.”

“What do you mean now? Has something happened?” he asked worried.

‘Just sultry dreams of you.’

“No! Nothing has happened!” Eve pulled a wry mouth.

Nyx stared at her and blinked dumbfound.

“Eve, what’s up, really? You are acting weird.” The worry in his tone was so clear it made her feel bad.

Eve sighed deeply.

“I can’t take this either!” she burst out and spread her arms in frustration.

The breath he had been taking in, hitched in Nyx’s throat.

“Shh, don’t yell,” he hissed and could barely contain his beaming smile. ‘She said. Fucking finally.’ He really wanted to kiss Eve or at least hold her, but that would have been difficult to explain to the captain.

“I want to push you against that wall right now and make you mine. Your smile makes my knees weak and head spin–“ Nyx pressed a finger on Eve’s lips to contain the sudden burst of babbling.

“You just can’t decide can you?” he said smiling and released her lips.

“Seems not,” Eve said sheepishly.

“Do you want to do something about it?” Nyx asked quietly.

“Do someth–? Here?” Eve uttered horrified. She gave a scolding look at him.

“No, dummy. I’m asking you on a date.”

Eve rushed home from work later than she would have wanted to. Cor wasn’t home yet and that gave her some time to panic.

‘Okay, now I need to be cool. What would I wear for a night out with friends?  I want to look good for Nyx. But not too good or father will suspect something else is going on.’

She emptied half of her wardrobe on the bed and tried out a dozen outfits. If Cor would have walked in at that moment, he would have guessed exactly what was going on. Eve wasn’t normally one to doll herself up. That fact was also what made the rare situation requiring dressing up so difficult and time consuming.

‘Why do I even bother? It’s always the first one you try on anyways.’ Eve finally settled for pair of snug jeans and a crop top with a print design.

‘Heels or no heels? Heels make my butt look good, but it’s not fun to walk long in them. But I guess Nyx can carry me if I sprain my ankle.’ Eve placed a pair of her steadiest heels next to the bed and finally strapped the silver chocobo bracelet on her wrist.

‘Okay now to stuff everything back and to think about a good excuse.’

It wasn’t long before Eve heard keys rustling in the front door lock. She was just shoving the last couple of shirts back to the shelf.

“Hey! Evelia, you home already?” Cor shouted from downstairs.

Eve heard the sound of keys being tossed into a bowl in the hallway. She closed the wardrobe doors and strapped the high heels on.

“Yup I’m here!” she yelled back and treaded to the stairs. Her father was standing at the bottom of them.

“Oh, what’s the occasion?” he asked eyebrows raised.

“I’m going out with some friends,” Eve said with an impassive expression.

“Okay. Did you eat yet?” Cor asked as they exchanged a light hug.

“No, that’s why we are going out,” she explained relieved that he had bought it so easily. It wasn’t like Eve had ever really given him a cause to mistrust her goings. Not to mention the few times she had been dragged along the rebelling crown prince. Though, that had happened on duty.

They went to the kitchen and Eve helped her Cor to make some supper for him. They unloaded the needed supplies on the table and Eve started to chop the ingredients. When she was a child, Cor had begun using vegetables in cooking. They had always had fun in the kitchen, trying out new dishes. As time went on and Eve grew up, their common time spent cooking became a rarity due to work.

“Why are you wearing heels in the house?” Cor asked nodding towards Eve’s shoes.

“I’m breaking them in before I have to leave.”

“So you can enjoy the blisters for longer?” he chuckled.

Eve rolled her eyes. “Very funny. How was work today?” she asked casually.

“Long, tedious, uneventful. I’d much rather hear about your day? You left early in the morning.”

“Uh, yeah I wanted to train alone before anyone came in,” Eve said forcing down the nervous laughter she wanted to spill. Her day hadn’t gone exactly as she had expected. The nervous anticipation she had felt earlier with Nyx was nothing compared to this moment.

Eve was just about done with the chopping when the doorbell finally rang.

“That’s my cue!” she said and hurried to open the door with a bright smile on her face.

Nyx stood there in casual, but neat clothes, smirking and eyeing her from top to bottom.

“Nice jeans,” he commented admiring her tight form.

“What?” Cor asked coming into view from the kitchen.

“I-I said she has nice genes. Very good, you should be proud,” Nyx stuttered and laughed nervously.

Cor glared at him and turned to Eve. “Have fun with your friends,” the father wished, emphasizing dangerously the plural form of the last word.

“We’ll get going now. Don’t wait up for me. Bye.” Eve pushed Nyx back out of the door and closed it behind her. Nyx had half a mind to push her back against it and kiss her right there, but decided against it since he was very fond of his dear life.

“You have a nice house. Maybe you’ll give me a tour someday?” he said instead to get something else to think about.

“Maybe, when my father is not home,” Eve rolled her eyes to the starry sky, “I thought you would be more concerned about him?”

‘I know. I should be scared shitless of him.’

“How come? I trust you didn’t tell him that we are actually going on a date,” Nyx said.

Eve blushed at the word “date” and shook her head. “Well, of course not, but if he finds out, he’ll get your ass busted.” She giggled nervously at her words.

‘I think a busted ass will be the least of my problems then.’

“Then we better make sure he won’t find out,” Nyx replied with a smile tugging at his lips. They walked in silence for a moment, neither of them sure if it would be all right to take the other’s hand.

“So no PDA then? Just to be safe,” Eve proposed quietly.

“Good thing my apartment is not far from where we are headed,” Nyx said. He eyed Eve suggestively and caressed her lower back nevertheless. Eve flashed her blue eyes warningly to him. They had a hint of the familiar fire in them that made Nyx’s body heat up.

“Don’t say you want to skip the date part and hit my place already?” He chuckled lightly.

Eve blushed vigorously and smacked the man’s shoulder with her fist.

“You have to buy me a dinner first.”

They took the subway to downtown. Nyx had the most perfect place in his mind to take Eve to. There was a nice restaurant a little aside from the central district that served Galahdian inspired cuisine. It was a small place with only a few tables and solid base of regular customers. Nyx had been there with Libertus and Crowe for numerous times. He was familiar with the owner, which was the reason he had actually gotten a table for them on such a short notice.

Nyx was being a true gentleman – he opened the door for Eve and helped her to sit. As she was taking in the detailed interior design of the restaurant, he had the perfect opportunity to eye out her features and lean form.

The restaurant was called Coeurl’s Whiskers. Nyx had mentioned it was most likely because the tropical forests of Galahd were thick with packs of the said beasts. The interior walls were filled with tribal masks, objects and paintings presenting the nature and wildlife of Galahd. Nyx had inspected every single one of them already before, but Eve was amazed by the art. Her head twisted and turned around in an almost comical manner, making Nyx smile.

A waiter appeared beside their table, smiling widely and beginning to pour water in their glasses.

“Welcome to Coeurl’s Whiskers. May I bring you something to drink while you look at the menu?”

Eve turned to look from the waiter to Nyx. They hadn’t even opened the menus yet.

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” Nyx asked.

“Sure, you’re the expert here. Order whatever you think is the best,” Eve said.

She would have thought to be more nervous being on an actual date with Nyx, but it didn’t feel any different from their previous encounters. Nyx’s suggestive jokes and signature smirk didn’t make her heart race any more than they usually did. Not that it could have even been physically possible.

“We’ll take a bottle of the house’s red and two Pelaus of the day, please,” Nyx said.

Eve lifted her brows at him.

“Very well, thank you,” the waiter said nodding and left.

“What is Pelau?” Eve asked leaning in over the table.

“It’s something my mother used to make when I was a kid.” Nyx’s smile was enigmatic.

Eve looked even more confused. “I guess I’ll get to taste it soon then,” she said and took a sip of the water. She placed the glass back on the table and ran her finger on the brim.

“So, do you have any other rules for tonight besides no PDA?” Nyx asked. He placed his fingers on Eve’s hand and caressed it slightly. She blushed at his touch.

“Work is on the list of forbidden subjects,” Eve said thinking about how nice Nyx’s touch felt and how it set her skin on fire.

Nyx laughed. “Agreed.”

Eve let out a light giggle at his mirth. ‘He seems so relaxed now that we’re indoors.’

“So… that leaves us with a mystery,” Nyx said after having calmed down and took a sip.

“What mystery?” Eve asked baffled.

“I know of your professional history and the general stuff, but who is Eve Leonis really?” Nyx leaned back in his chair. The removed touch of his fingers left a tingling sensation on Eve’s skin.

Eve pulled her arms on her lap. She studied Nyx’s awaiting expression for a moment before speaking up.

“My name is really Evelia.”

“Evelia? I like that.” Nyx smiled, not at all alarmed by the unexpected revelation.

Eve blushed slightly at hearing her name coming from his lips. It felt somehow very intimate. “Thanks,” she murmured, encouraged by his smile.

“I was born in a small town in Causcherry Plains. My father brought me here after the Imperials burned it down,” Eve said.

Nyx’s smile faded and his expression became serious. ‘I wouldn’t have guessed that she shares the most common background story of all Insomnian refugees. It explains her willingness to join the glaives,’ he thought looking at her.

“You lost your mother in that attack?” he asked carefully.

Eve nodded once and her eyes fell on the tablecloth.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you–“ Eve blinked frantically before her glazed eyes would start overflowing, “I can’t imagine living anywhere else anymore. Insomnia is my home now.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Nyx said gently.

“No, tell me first– actually I think I know already, but, your chapter in Insomnia… It has the same beginning?” Eve found steel in her voice. It was probably not the best subject for a first date, but it was such a huge part of their pasts that it would be better to just confirm it for mutual knowledge.

“It has,” Nyx said clenching his jaw.

“I’m sorry too.”

“What about your tattoo?” he asked changing the subject.

“What about it? Didn’t I tell you it was to remind me of my duty?” Eve said thinking back to the Chocobo Post trailer where Nyx had taken care of her wounds.

“Yeah, you did, but is there a particular reason it’s a tattoo? It’s not very usual to see a young woman with one bigger than her palm and in the middle of her chest.”

Eve shrugged. “Okay it was an act of a rebellious teenager, happy now?”

“Immensely.” Nyx grinned. “When did you get it?”

“Uh, it was the second year of high school. I wouldn’t have dared to get it if my friend Prompto had not urged,” Eve said and blushed. “Tell me about yours now.” She tapped on her right cheek in the same spot that Nyx had a small mark.

“It’s a Galahdian cultural thing. Different body parts represent different areas of life. The tattoos remind of important stages, people, events or something else,” Nyx explained and took a sip.

Eve listened with her head tilted. “So they’re very… personal?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“Maybe you’ll tell more about yours one day, then?” Eve smiled. ‘I don’t think this is something I want to pry on in a public place.’

“Maybe I will,” Nyx said and a smirk spread on his lips. It reminded Eve of the fact that the tattoos on his face weren’t the only ones he had and suddenly she felt really hot and eager to explore the rest of them in great detail.

The waiter arrived with their order, saving Eve from her sultry thoughts. He placed the plates before them and proceeded to pour glasses of wine for them after having Nyx approve of the taste.

The food was delicious and Nyx explained to Eve how it was usually made in Galahd. They shared stories from their childhoods – Running in the fields of Causcherry Plains and jumping in the river from a liana in Galahd.

Their talk soon turned to their love lives. The topic was awkward on Eve’s and nonchalant on Nyx’s part.

“Did you date a lot when you were in school?” Nyx inquired.

“No, not at all. I was, um, otherwise occupied,” Eve said and sipped some wine.

A teasing smile spread on Nyx’s features.

“Then how did you lose your virginity?”

Eve almost had to spit the drink from her mouth and as precaution she lifted the glass in front of her. ‘I what?!’

“I’m sensing an interesting story here.” Nyx grinned and leaned in closer.

Eve was coughing violently and thinking about what to lie in panic. “Uh, I was in high school. He was cute and had a nice butt,” she explained quickly, “What about you? Anything serious?”

Nyx’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he let the subject go. “Mm, you could say that. I don’t think I’ve ever had an actual date after joining the glaives though.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Eve sipped wine again. ‘He does seem a one night stand kind of guy at first glance.’

“I’ve been busy. You know there’s a war going on,” Nyx laughed.

Eve looked coyly at him. “Yes, I’m aware of the fact. Do you want some dessert?”

“What did you have in mind?” Nyx questioned with a hint of suggestive smile.

“I’m rather full already so maybe we should just pay?” Eve proposed, returning the smile with a smirk of her own.

Nyx motioned for the waiter to come and at Eve’s insistence they shared the bill. The night sky was already full of stars as they walked out of the restaurant.

“What’s next?” Eve asked as they had not made any plans for the evening, other than the dinner.

“Whatever you wish.” Nyx smiled.

“Well, let’s just walk for a minute before deciding anything.”

Next Chapter

[zacklover24]

CrossRoads Chapter IX

Warnings: Brief mention of blood, and fluff. So much fluff. 

Tagging: @femmescientia, @itshaejinju, @themissimmortal, @blindbae, @stunninglyignis, @insomniacapples, @neko-otaku13, @alicemoonwonderland, @eternallydaydreaming2015, @sweetchocobae, @lady-asuka, @daemonchocobo, @dr3aming-of-stars

Angel stilled as she was meet with a pair of glassy green eyes, and loopy smile. Before she could ask, Ignis pulled her in for a kiss. Chapped lips meet soft ones, angel was in shock. Ignis was holding her in place as he kissed her. Just as the kissed started it ended, Ignis pulled back with a smile.

“I love you my sweet.” Before she could ask, he was out like a light. Angel was in shock, had he just said he loved her? Was this due to the morphine? Or something else? Was Prompto and her dad, right? Did the advisor have feeling for her? Angel lout a groan and flopped down next to Ignis on the bed moving lavender out of the way as she got comfy. She wasn’t going to figure this out tonight. With another groan, she fell asleep.

Angel was crying, she had been trying to throw the dagger like the older guards and glaives but she wound up cutting her palm. The five-year-old sitting was on the ground crying hugging her stuffed moogle close to her chest. Her hand hurt, and there so much blood.

“Are you, all right?” A voice asks, Angel sniffled and then saw him. He looked to be a year older then Angel, with light brown hair and green eyes, he had a pair of glasses on his face, a cream sweater vest, a white dress shirt and black dress pants.

“N-n-n-no I was trying to copy the older guards and hurt myself.” She sniffles burying her face into the soft plush of the moogle.

“May I look it? I might be able help you.” He asks raveling that he had a first aid kit. Angel nodded once, and showed him, her palm. It was all bloody. The boy let out a tsk and took out some wipes and started to clean the blood off, angel didn’t hide her wince.

“I’m sorry their disinfectant wipes, there cleaning up the blood and making sure you don’t get sick.” Angel sniffled again

“Who are you?” She asks the boy.

“I’m Ignis.”

“I’m Angel.” She tells him with a smile as he wrapped up her hand.

“There all that blood, for nothing to bad. Your very lucky Miss. Angel.” He gave her a smile and kissed the bandages, “There all better.” Angel blushed, right as Cor called her.

“Angel, time to go.” The marshal calls.

“Coming dad.” She calls back, Angel stood and pecked Ignis on the check, “I hope we can meet again.”

“As do I Miss. Angel.”

Angel woke to her pillow having a heartbeat, someone playing with her hair and something warm pressed up against her hip. Slowly she opened her eyes to see that she was using Ignis chest as a pillow, Ignis hand was mindless playing with her hair, and lavender was sleeping at her side. Ignis was using his phone, doing Gods knew what.

“What time is it?” she asks turning over and petting lavender.

“Eight.” He answers.

“Prom come by yet?” She asks sitting up and stretching,

“No, not yet. Sleep well?”

“As well as I could.” She tells him, Ignis hadn’t looked at her, “Iggy I umm wanted to say thank you.” Ignis paused in the endless scrolling and finally looked at Angel, “For saving me from the mindflayer. You didn’t have to, but you did.” Ignis smirked and leaned up and kissed the crown of her head.

“You’re welcome my sweet.”  It didn’t take long for Prom, Gladio, Noct and Iris to join. And by mid-morning as did Dr. Hearts. She confirmed that Ignis would not be going anywhere any time soon. They would have to go to the Disc of Cauthess without Ignis, not that anyone wanted to. And in turn Iris was going to watch over Ignis (those angels had asked one of her hunter friends to keep watch over them.)

“I’m not worried.” Angel tells Ignis putting in the hair pin.

“You should be.” Ignis scolds shifting in the bed. Lavender let out a bark as if to agree. Lavender was staying behind as well, to help keep everyone safe.

“I swear.” Angel mutters, opening the front pocket of her vest. From the pocket, she pulled out a small charm, it was a moogle, it was a little old and a tad frayed but otherwise in good shape. She tucked the charm into Ignis hand and then kissed him and left. Before he could say anything, she left.

‘From the deep, the Archaean calls Yet on deaf ears, the god’s tongue falls The King made to kneel, in pain he crawls…’ A male bass voice sings, that had Angel stopping dead in her tracks and quickly pulled Prompto behind her, Gladio took the hint and did the same to Noctis.

“Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, I’m shocked to see you alive.” Angel hisses. There at the overlook was the chancellor of the empire. The red head gave a smile,

“Miss. Leonis I’m so very happy to see you alive and well. Tell me is this handsome young man your brother?”

“What. Do. You. Want.” Gladio slowly asks keeping the prince behind him.

“To offer you a hand is, all. The Archaean calls to you, doesn’t he? Allow me to help you.” Ardyn offers. “The way to the disk is blocked, I am the only one who can get you in.” Gladio and Angel shared a look,

“Fine, but no funny business or else.” Gladio warns. Ardyn clapped his hand

“Marvelous we’ll take two cars, you follow me.” He smiles a predatory smile as he headed for his car. “My car pales to your regalia but she is a dare old thing.”

“Ang?” Prompto whispers as they went to the car.

“Shh.” She whispers, “Gladio.”

“Right.” The shield agrees.  The four didn’t say a word as they went to the regalia, Ardyn drove off first, and angel followed. Angel started to tap her fingers on the wheel as they followed, after the chancellor.

“Ang who is that?” Noctis asks.

“Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, he was there the day the city feel. I remember he was in the signing room.” She explains. “He gave me the creeps then, and gives me the creeps now.” As she shutters.

“Oh.”

“You don’t trust him.” Gladio asks her.

“No, I don’t. Gladio.”

“Yea I know.”

“Thanks.”

“What?” Prompto asks. Angel smiled and leaned over to quickly ruffle his hair as she kept up with the chancellor.

“Oh nothing.” She winks. As much as none of them wanted to, they had to pull over for the nigh.

“Were going to camp?” Gladio asks hopping out of the car keeping both of his lover’s close.

“Unfortunately, no, my poor back won’t agree with camping. A cavern for tonight?” Ardyn offers to the group, “I’ll foot the bill of course.”

“Sure, just as long as you stay on your side.” Angel warns.

End of line

[rcgaliisms]

The man is an oddity, no doubt about it. A shock of magenta hair hidden beneath a worn hat long out of fashion, clothes unco-ordinated and eclectic to the point of disorganized. Not to mention the expression of cat-like amusement as he thumbs through a priceless centuries-old text like it's yesterday's newspaper.

For a moment, all Alison does is stare. Very few people visit her back here in the archives; Cor Leonis will sometimes come by to drop off records, or the odd glaive or researcher looking for some obscure piece of literature. But most of the time, the young aristocrat is alone. There are times where she's spent entire days holed up back here without seeing another soul. Though she's still intent on doing her job and discovering the intruder's purpose, there's a part of her that's glad that today will not be one such time.

Her eyes flicker to the tome in his hands, barely suppressing a scoff when the title becomes clear. Many of her fellow historians regard it as one of the oldest and most valuable accounts of Lucian history. She considers it the most biased piece of propaganda masquerading as truth she's ever had the misfortune of reading.

Not wanting to be accused of blasphemy (or worse, treason), Alison prepares to bite her tongue until the interloper's acerbic question reaches her ears. Almost involuntarily, her eyes widen a fraction.

Something about the way he stares at her through golden eyes seems as though he's posing her a challenge, and there's barely a second between her mind registering his voice and the derisive snort that follows in response.

"Yes, well I suppose I'd be doctoring my histories as well, if I'd done half as many things as our dear founder."

"Excuse me, are you allowed to be here? This part of the library is restricted, I'm afraid." - rcgaliisms

@rcgaliisms

Ardyn gives the girl a sly glance, fingers still resting on the spine of a particularly Forbidden-seeming book. He drums them thoughtfully, humming in his throat. “Oh, you mean here? Yes, of course. There are so many secret things here, aren’t there?”

The tome is tugged free carelessly, and Ardyn brushes the dusty sheen from it’s worn leather face. Ancient Lucian text etched into the surface. His fingers trace over it, reading it with the ease only known to scholars and those who happen to have it as their mother tongue.

“Odyssey of the Mystic.” he reads, lip curling just slightly in scorn.

He cracks the book open to a random page, scanning through lines of ancient text almost boredly. “And so did the Founder King, Somnus, join hands with the Oracle to travel the world and dispel the darkness that plagued our star.”

Ardyn closes the book with a harsh thump, a plume of dust escaping in complaint.

“My, my. Isn’t that rich, considering how things were actually handled.” He tucks it back into the shelf, chuckling. Cocks his head coyly towards the girl. “..Though I don’t suppose they would have told you that in university, would they?”