#dragon knights gil

[royaltea000]

Teutemp having their medieval wedding dance to Dancing and the Dreaming hit post

[unluckyxse7enart]

Bet you thought the next dorakishi character I'd finish would be Rune or Cesia, huh.

Not quite! They're sketched out but I was leaning more angular, so I decided to do Gil next. The real fan favorite of the series lmaooo

His hair. Is ridiculous. I think I found a good balance but man...

[thewittyphantom]

While dueling in the KC Cup earlier I got hit by the powerful Unexpected Heartbreak trap.

[dragonknightsbabble]

Just how many people are natural dragon clan members? (Spoilers)

Like, we know all the knights are not originally from the dragon clan, Tetheus was a demon and Kaistern was a human. Even Gil and Bierrez were not originally from the dragon clan but become the knight of fire and red dragon officer respectively.

The only people we don't know about are Raeseleane, Alfeegi, Ruwalk, Cernozura, and arguably the dragon fighters.

[alice-on-elm-street]

Random Dragon Knights thought, but I wonder if one of the reasons Fedelta hated Gil so much was because, as a fire elemental himself, he felt something off about Gil, who was meant to be the Dragon Knight of Fire. I always found it very ironic that Gil, one of whose primary tormenters was Fedelta, was meant to be the knight of fire.

[thelealinhypehouse]

Mains from FFXIV Intorduction (open for rp!)

Name: Nava Reed (fake name)

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual

Age: 27

Race: Half Elezen (Ishgard) with awaken dragon blood

Occupation: Member of Rogue's Gulid, Adventurer

Home/Origin: Born at Flaceon Nest but raised at Limsa Lominsa

Goal/Motivation: Revenge on Ishgardian Inquisitors and Parents

Strength: Cooking, Torturing, Acrobatic

Weakness: Reading and writing (he can but its slow), hot headed

Likes: Food, fights, pretty clothing (he is alwyas amazend about lace work, how patient you need to be for it and how stunning it looks)

Dislikes: Betreyal, bugs, snow

Class: Red Mage/Dark Knight/Rogue/Machinist

Family/Childhood: Born at Flacon Nest to Ul'dah merchant and Elezen from High House of Ishgard, She gone against the will fo her family to marry the merchant. The war with dragons was raging on and one his village was attacked. During this his mother when was pregnant with him got injuried and few drops of dragon blood fallen on her. She didn't turn. All was absorbed by the baby. When Nava was born his eyes was white, at first they thought he was born blind but it was not. When he was 5 the horns started to slowly show up. At first they tried to hide them under bandanas, hats ect, but they still growing. Cutting them ended up causing alot of pain, because they had veins. Somebody from the village contacted the Ishgardian Inqusition to investigate probally the dragon spawn. They wanted to to Nava away and kill him or something. Parents was acused of heresy but they get the option to repent the sins. Nava before was taking away he just escape the village and thanks to merchant wo was on the way to Limsa he hide himself in one of thier boxes. At Limsa he become street thief. Probally meet Thranced once or twice before he was took by Archon Louisoix. Nava other hand was took by Thief Gulid. This is where meet Jacke Swallow, the future Capitan Jacke of Rogue's Gulid. With him created this gulid and Nava become one of the more fierce member. Taking out more scummy people than normaly. Not before tet more info if there is bigger fish to take out... Years go by, he tried to help people as he could during Calamity. It was hard, there are so many things that happend that time... With Gulid they helped with rebuilding Limsa and areas that was affected. This is when Nava started to think about traveling, to try new things, be at new places, meet new people. He decided to be adventurer, but still hoding Code to his heart and helping when needed.

Quirks:

Great as coinkeeper for gulid.

Always having pair of daggers if magic not gonna work

He is cruel, if somebody hurt people dear to Nava, he will not be gentle.

Master culinarian, took grwreat time at culinarian gulid.

Quote: May gods have mercy for my enemies because I won't.

Introduction: Sitting at on one of the Ul'dah tavern you spot the hyur sitting not farr form you. On second look you spoted the pointy ears. On third look you spotted the horns. You thoght they are maybe some kind fancy decoration? Than you see they finishied thier dring with few big glups, and stand from seat, levaing the gil. He was observing someone that was leaving tavern too. Before he gone he just "fixed" position of his dagger on the belt.

Random info: - He and Jacke where FwB - Can eat alot and loves to try new food

Name: Alden Lush

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male He/Him

Orientation: Homosexual

Age: 25

Race: Hyur

Associated God: Thalik

Occupation: Studium Absolvent, Thaliak chosen

Home/Origin: Old Sharlayan

Goal/Motivation: Unravel mystery of parents “death” and what they investigate. The Truth

Strength: Memory, Alchemy, Perceptive, lots of aether (all carby are the chonky ones), fast reader.

Weakness: Cooking, No Street Smart, Lots of times lost in thoughts and not looking around, shy with talking. Zero social skills.

Likes: Food, books, sunny days,

Dislikes: Surprises, Mimics

Class: Summoner/Scholar

Family/Childhood: Born at Old Sharlayan to a pair of scholars. They go on expeditions lots of the time, but one in the while Alden joins them as a kid. Once at Costa del Sol met a blonde Miqo'te and became friends. Sadly Alden needed to go back home but promised to go back one day. That never happened, but why? Sadly on the next expedition they went without him, and they didn't come back. The rescue mission was created, but they come back mostly empty handed. They found the destroyed ship, bodies of the crew and a few personal items of his parents including the father book he used as a summoner. They were called dead and now what to do with Alden? There were no other relatives there. Finally was adopted by one of the Forum members, and the era of traveling has come to an end. His guardian told him he can leave Sharlayan only when he graduates Studium. So Alden studied hard to enter there. He chose Aeather Archeology as specialization. Finally when finished his studies and became a full titled scholar, he began to prepare for the journey. To unravel the mystery of his parents and what they found.

Quirks:

When lost in thoughts he walks, and doesn't look where. That show he learned how to swim

Don’t need a book to cast, he only needs some ink and surface to write, but books are handy

Even with perfect memory he always has the book with notes and checks lots of times.

Have favorite seal plushie from childhood

Blessing: Thaliak Blessing - Absolute Memory

Quote: Wonder is the beginning of wisdom.

Introduction: As you live peacefully in Limsa minding your own business you see young hyur on streets that seem lost. Always checking his book in hands and muttering to himself. You see him going one direction, and not even a minute pass you see him going back the same road. Only a miracle that he didn't end up at Limsa water…yet.

Radom info: - Just can't cook, boiling water are his max skills - Few times he broke his glasses, so he have a spare at his coat.

[deepdreamnights]

The image(s) above in this post were made using an autogenerated prompt and/or have not been modified/iterated extensively. As such, they do not meet the minimum expression threshold, and are in the public domain. Prompt under the fold.

Prompt: cola ad featuring cindy crawlford as two-face, wearing 80s punk clothing, short hair, asymmetrical face, glowing ghoul, asymmetrical brightly colored clothing, post-apocalyptic, digital painting by gil elvgrin, Harry Ekman, Alberto Vargas, earl norem, norman rockwell, Olivia De Berardinis, artstation, WLOP, Artgerm, hearthstone card art, magic the gathering painting:: a green girl made of green slime, green translucent skin, dripping slime, light shining through, bubbles, lime jello:: vaporwave-rococo transformer arcee, intricate glowing circuitry details, eldrich energy within, set in a technomagical sci-fi fantasy setting, in the style of Dangiuz, Hajime Sorayama, dungeons and dragons:: a dinosaur anthro wearing work clothes standing on the corner of a dinosaur city. Solarpunk sci-if scene. charles r knight and syd mead:: a dilophosaurus-person wearing a sweater and with a long tail, eating take out food from the styrofoam package, photograph, city street background:: stop-motion dana scully in the nig htmare before christmas, stop motion animation in the style of Nightmare Before Christmas, screen capture, 5k:: A beautiful purple-skinned alien woman with tentacles instead of hair, wearing green leather and blue eyes in the style of Marvel's The Scarlet Witch, in a dynamic pose, with a full body portrait at full length, in a hyper-realistic, high resolution, high detail, cinematic style, in an underwater city filled with colorful octopus.

--

This is a 'prompt smash' experiment, combining random (mostly) machine-generated prompts into a single prompt with multiple sub-prompts. Midjourney blends concepts in these situations, making vivid but essentially random results.

[dujour13]

Secret Santa gift for my friend @offsidekineticist. Happy Holidays! 💕☃️💕

I hope you know I had to enlist the aid of both Ophenia and Woljif to piece this story together. Oh, that reminds me—(Siavash digs in his vest pocket and produces one silver bracelet, twelve gold pieces and a Chelish noble house signet ring)—with Woljif’s apologies. No questions asked about the ring.

I hope I got the main story beats right enough for art.

The half-orc druid I eventually tracked down in the Aspodell mountains told me Qweck was involved, but even my utmost attempts at diplomacy couldn’t prevent Qweck from slamming the door in my face, so I’m not sure where she fits into the story. There was also apparently a dinosaur? Or a golem made of dinosaurs? Anyway, here it is, as promised.

(He takes a sip of mulled Andoren wine and gives you a wink as he begins.)

🎶 The Ballad of Bellflower Hellfire 🎶

The Devil went down to Cheliax, she was lookin’ for a soul to steal She was biding her time at the scene of the crime In a gem that was magically sealed When Gil came across that necklace, offering vengeance and serving it hot And the devil grabbed hold of his heart in her claws And said boy lemme tell you what I guess you’ll do ‘bout anything to give them slavers their due And if you vow to serve me now I’ll lend a hand to you Now you’d make a damn fine Bellflower, boy All I ask is a soul or two I’ll bet the slaves you’ll free are worth that fee And it was true for all he knew And so the halfling set about with the fury of Hell in his hands Without a regret started paying his debts Freed his folk from their iron bands (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Twas a rainy night in Brastlewark and Thay sat with his book And he heard the sound of rustlin’ around and went to have a look There stood Gil ‘bout to catch a chill And Thay in his distress, said come on down, you look half drowned And bundled Gil up good And thus began the heart-bond ‘tween the halfling and the gnome In the shadow of Thrune their sweet love bloomed, over cocoa snug at home (There’s a break with romantic picking, then a shift to an ominous chord) Til one dark day the news reached Gil that made his heart stop cold The iron glove of Hell came down and crushed all Gilly’s hope The Hellknights came, they were taking names, Mister Theo was their prey Gil shed tears of grief and rage - the Rack had taken Thay And Gil like Hell’s own vengeance on the wings of dragon black Rained down on Rivad fury and fire and laid to waste the Rack The only reclamation that was glorious that day Was Gil who stormed the citadel and rescued poor dear Thay (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Thay in gloom of dungeon hoped for nought but Ph’rasma’s grace He held his ground, made not a sound as tears fell down his face The Rack had wrought their cruel work and yet his lips were sealed All he cared to pray for was an end to his ordeal When a signifier’s shattered mask was tossed between the bars And Theo raised his eyes and hope rekindled in his heart A little short for a Hellknight, Theo said through tears of joy Though they were trapped within the citadel the righteous would destroy In a desperate race for freedom the heroes stumbled toward the gates Paladins and Hellknights laid the citadel to waste As knights closed round Gil stood his ground o’er Theo’s tortured form As in his breast the fires of Hell let loose in violent storm (from this crescendo the tempo slows, becomes soulful) When Theo felt the heat of Hell and raised his heavy head And saw that Gil had rescued him but damned himself instead With failing limbs he lifted up and braved the flames of Dis To wrestle Gil from the Devil’s grasp and free him… with True Love’s Kiss (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul

---

Note: Modeled after “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band

[ofdragonsdeep]

7: Morsel

A tasty delicacy, a tidbit

Ar'telan makes a surprising discovery in the Sea of Clouds

Ar'telan was always happy to seize upon an opportunity to get lost.

Ishgard had not afforded him many such opportunities, so far. Other than the wait for the Ironworks to sort out the Manacutters, he felt like he had always been on his feet, one way or another. But now Thordan was defeated - 'dead' didn't feel wuite right, given the primal he had become - and though the shade of Nidhogg lingered threateningly on the horizon, for the moment there was no use for Ar'telan.

He liked it that way.

He had taken himself out to the Sea of Clouds, the incliment weather in Coerthas too hostile for a gathering trip. The knights at Camp Cloudtop were mostly perplexed when he had quizzed them about local flora, but the Vanu Vanu had been more accomodating, directing him to places where he might find things to harvest without disturbing the delicate local ecosystem they cultivated.

Ar'telan did not much like the Sea of Clouds. It was almost entirely open sky, the rocks bouyed in the air by gods only knew what mechanism, and it did not feel much different to be the one on the rock that plummeted to earth than to be the one who felt it fall. But he had his carbuncle at his feet, Lily at his shoulder, and a carefully sharpened knife in his hands, and that would have to do.

He hadn't gathered much, so far. Some very strange bananas, a few hardy lemons, anything he thought he might be able to get some use out of squirreled away into the bag tied to his hip. He wasn't sure the cooks at Fortemps Manor would even let him try to make something with his findings, but it was worth the attempt.

He was picking his way across one of the islands when he came across something different.

He caught the scent before he saw it, turning immediately towards the source. It was familiar, something he had been sorely lacking in Eorzea thus far. He crept past a wamoura, stepping softly to avoid alerting the beast, and knelt by the plant.

Sesame.

It had been years since he had last seen sesame. On Meracydia, he had used it often - it complimented all kinds of food. But it was a Meracydian plant. What was it doing here?

He thought about Allag, distributing conquered peoples across the Empire to reduce the chances of uprising, and the wind chill felt colder.

Still, he knew very well how to work with sesame. A few deft strikes of the knife garnered him a bounty of seedpods, stuffed in his bag quickly as if they were like to disappear in his hands. He held his fingers up to his nose, closing his eyes and breathing the scent. He could almost imagine he was home.

Almost.

---

He teleported back to Ishgard, the cold of the wind being replaced by the radiating bite of snowed-in stone, and trudged through the slush to the Jeweled Crozier. He was not the kind of man who carried much gil, and most of the shopkeepers knew it by now, but he had some. A shame he couldn't convince them to barter for some of the other things he'd found.

Still, he acquired a small amount of flour. The man on the shop looked at him askance, clearly knowing him as "the man who rode into Ishgard on the back of a dragon" or possibly "the man who had helped slay Nidhogg", though Ar'telan would have vastly preferred the former. He supposed that in Ishgard, knights did not have much call to be baking, so it would be strange for a fighter to be pursuing such a thing. Another strange Ishgardian custom he didn't entirely understand.

He put the flour in his bag, and fought the urge to run back to Fortemps Manor. It felt silly to be so excited about something so small, but it had been so long since he had had anything to be excited about at all. He would let himself feel this, even if it wasn't much.

---

He was ready to have to get on his knees for the Fortemps kitchen staff to let him actually cook in the kitchen, rather than simply making a request, but they acquiesed remarkably quickly. Perhaps his enthusiasm showed on his face, a nice change from the lines of stress that so usually accompanied him these days. Perhaps it was because he promised to only take up a little space, and they knew he was very good at that. Ar'telan didn't spend too much thought on wondering.

There were so many things he could make with sesame, but he was missing the ingredients for many of them. Presumably Ishgard had some recipes that used it, but there was one he could make with what he had: cookies.

They were a simple thing, all things considered. He had made them for the kits, back home on Meracydia, though half of them had always been pilfered by the adults when he did. There was not often time for such little treats, dangerous as their watch of the waking wood often was, and so it felt like a welcome reprieve from the worry. From the danger. The ghost of a dragon lingering in the twisted background, the biting fear in his stomach, those were oddly familiar friends to the baking. He wasn't sure he liked it.

The smell of the sesame seeds attracted the attention of the other cooks, and he talked as much as he could, needing his hands for the work, on how Meracydia used the seed. The cooks told him a great deal in return - they used the seeds to season Kaiser rolls, a fancy bread favoured by the upper class in Ishgard, and also in salads. It was fascinating to Ar'telan, how something that to him seemed so Meracydian had blended so deeply with Ishgardian culture. The cooks, too, seemed surprised at his skill with baking, just as the shopkeepers had been. He wondered if anyone knew that he had been little more than a firekeep before Eorzea had thrust him at adventure.

He learned quickly. He had little choice about it.

---

The smell when he pulled the cookies from the oven was almost heavenly. Much as he had to back home, he fended off the cooks eager to pluck one straight from the cooling rack, and set them to lose a little of the heat.

He wondered if he should bother the others with it. If they would want to be bothered with it. All of the Fortemps seemed busy these days - if they were not standing vigil at Haurchefant's bedside, they were doing anything they could to not think too deeply on how still he always seemed. A warm cookie would be nicer than the chill of the grave, but Haurchefant was not awake to eat them.

But he would be. One day. He would.

Ar'telan plated the cookies, stealing just one for himself. the first bite was almost enough to remember simpler times on Meracydia. Almost. Either way, it was a welcome reminder.

He took the plate up to the main house, in the end. Artoirel was absent, but Emmanellain showed his usual enthusiasm for Ar'telan's efforts. Ar'telan was reasonably sure that it was real. A great deal of Emmanellain was an act, sometimes, but this did seem legitimate.

Count Edmont seemed surprised, more than anything. It was clear it had been a long time since he had been offered a simple treat, and the etiquette of being presented one by your ward was lost on him, but he took it regardless.

It was nice to see a smile on his face, however small.

The rest, Ar'telan left on a plate in the main room, with a little note that said, in his shaky handwriting, that they were free for any to take - including the serving staff, who seemed so often to be left out of things like that. Ar'telan found that it felt nice to be able to do something so small, but kind. To make a difference in a way that did not need him to call upon more destructive arts. To not have stakes.

And when Haurchefant woke, he would know where to find the seeds a second time.

[paintedscales]

WoLstinien Week 2024 :: Day 8 :: Estinien Day

An experimental piece that touches upon early life to the end of Heavensward for Estinien.

Word Count: 734

Life was once a picturesque moment in time. Surrounded by verdant trees, peaceful sheep, and the quiet watch of mountaintops.

A simple time, with simple chores, and simple activities.

Life once had a cozy cabin, built from spruce and pine. Life once had cozy beds made with goose feathers, blankets made with fleece, pillows full of cotton to cradle the head to sleep.

A simple comfort, warm and welcome.

Life once had a mother, a father, and a little brother. Mother, who would make warm meals made of mutton, popoto, onion, and garlic. Father, who would guide and teach, showing how to herd and shear the sheep. Brother, who would tail behind, who filled idle bells with fun, who would sometimes find trouble for two.

A simple family, unburdened by politics and city life.

At the flip of a gil, life was burned to the ground, scorched and charred.

Everything lost.

Simplicity lost.

What was once verdant and peaceful now burned. In the skies, a dragon dark as night. A dragon, vengeful and filled with unbridled rage. The dragon, the source, the reason for that spark.

From the spark, an ember took root, hot and burning. In time, the ember was nurtured: blazing within.

“For everything you took, I shall inflict upon you a thousand fold! Nidhogg!!”

Life became driven with a lust for revenge. The lance became the weapon of choice. Sharpened tip for piercing, for the steel was made to drive through. Into the skull. Into the heart. Straight through any fleshy or hardened parts.

Life became watched over by former Azure Dragoon now as acting father. Too young with far too large a heart. Mentor, father, guardian.

From simple sheep herder, to Temple Knight, to Knight Dragoon. Then finally: Azure Dragoon.

Wyrmblood. A name entrenched in crimson. A name that many come to know, but no longer Varlineau.

From the heart of Ishgard, the Eye of the nemesis stolen and spirted away. An act of treason, and so the hunt began. Of course, spry and elusive, those of Ishgard could never keep up. How could they? They were not as driven, that much was observed. They could never match the same resolve.

A fateful day for a fateful encounter. An Adventurer, but not an ordinary one. Nay, for the Eye of Nidhogg did respond to their presence, foul and noisome. Preposterous.

“Our paths will cross again. You can be sure of it.”

But for all the paths that crossed, never did the thought cross that their paths would be intrinsically linked from that point forward. From biting cold, to zephyrous cliff, to the belly of fire, to desolate lands that float adrift. With the truth of the matter learned, and the beast slain, perhaps a new path forward could be carved.

Despite the bickering and the loss, it was supposed that peace must needs come at a cost.

Finally, within the Adventurer, an equal seen. In each others’ eyes, the same storm of a painful past, stripped of a simple life, a place of warmth and comfort. Were things drastically different, perhaps friendship could have been forged instead of the barbarous thorns that still lingered?

A thought entertained, though snuffed quickly as it came. For the torturous might came surging forth with both Eyes now held. A victim to rage, a vessel for hatred. Notion of peace, torn asunder, giving back in to the stormy depths of vengeance and eternal suffering.

Mutated. Mutilated. Morphed.

An end to man was the goal. An end to self of man for one. An end to all humanity for the other. A goal that both would see to, no matter the cost.

Upon those final steps, one with faith, the other with resolve, did man and dragon stare down.

To them, from the dragon filled with roiling rancor: a promise of damnation.

To them, from man desperate for release: kill me, please.

A battle fought, a battle won. From comrade to man, a curse undone.

Scars left behind, a tale told upon the burns left behind on skin. Each a different experience, a different side.

Ministrations from chirurgeons and fretting abound, an annoyance did tick that a disappearance occurred without a sound. Independence was now within grasp, for that day on the bridge as Azure Dragoon was his last. Mantle hung and inspiration taking hold, a new adventure on the horizon past the mountainous cold.

[poke-muns]

Dragon Type Names

Pre-existing: Aragon (dragon), Aris/Aristide (possibly Aristides, an Athenian general), Clair (lair, what dragons are said to have and store their treasures in), Débora (dragón or víbora, Spanish for dragon and viper), Dracaena (the dragon tree’s genus), Dragan (Irish word for dragon), Drake (another term for dragon), Drayden (drake/dragon & den), Dreyton (see Drayden), Genji (genjū, Japanese for mythical beast as a generic term), Gweonsu (gweon/권 Korean for power, su/수 meaning beast), Ibuki (means breath in Japanese, possibly referencing either dragons breathing fire, Dragon Breath, or dragons’ breath opal glass), Kakitsubata/カキツバタ (contains anagram of タツ, meaning dragon), Kibana (Kiba/牙, Japanese for fang), Lance (weapon used by knights who killed dragons and Lancelot, a knight of the round table from Arthurian legend), Lóngkuí/Lùhngkwàih/龍葵 (lóng/lùhng/龍 is Chinese for dragon), Lysander (Spartan general or part of fleur-de-lys, a medieval coat of arms), Peter (petard or petronel, medieval weapons again used by knights), Roy (king in Middle French or from roi, French meaning king), Ryūki (ryū/竜, Japanese for dragon), Sandra (dragon, drake, etc.), Siegfried (a knight who killed a dragon in Germanic legend), Tristana (Tristan, a knight in Celtic legend who had to kill a dragon), Wataru (possibly Watatsumi, a Japanese dragon and water deity), Yong-Gyu (Yong/용 is Korean for dragon) Basil = basilisk (possibly what they were going for with Raihan, who’s name comes from the Arabic word for basil, rayḥān/ريحان) Craig(g) = Draigg, Welsh for dragon Erwan = homophone with aeroant, meaning dragon in Breton. George/Georgina/etc. = St. George, said to have slain a dragon Gil = Gilgamesh, who loses a plant granting immortality to a serpent (could allude to a dragon-water ace given gill or dragon-grass given the aforementioned immortality plant) Hera/Heracles/Hercules/etc. = the mythological figure who killed the hydra Heidi/Hydi/etc. = hydra Linda/Lindon/etc. = Lindworm, type of dragon or serpentine creature Merlin/Meryl/etc. = Merlin, a figure from Arthurian stories Patrick /Patricia/etc. = St. Patrick, if taking the snakes he drove away at face value Puck = a dragon from German, Estonian, Lithuanian and Latvian legend (possibly alludes to a dragon-fairy ace given the famous fae from Celtic legend, made more known in A Midsummer Night’s Dream) Tracy / Patrice = Cockatrice, a 2 legged dragon with a fowl’s head

[fruit-salad-ship]

The Royal AU got me thinking. Dragon Peach (can turn into a human form), Knight Grey and kidnapped Nobel Plum for the trio. The Dragon kidnaps the nobel of a very influential house and the brave knight is sent to save them. Turns out the Dragon "kidnapped" the Nobel because she was being forced into an arranged political marriage but has also started to like the tiny human.

I so wanted to draw more for this but im HELLA busy, someone remind me, or put an ask in my box or something idk. I'll circle back round to this because peach dragon slaps.

Certainly the people of the city feared the creature that dwelled in the swamps. It only showed itself from time to time, usually keeping to the distance, hunting wild deer, perhaps attacking caravans that strayed too close to its home, but for the most part, it kept to itself, filling its home with thick smog to fend off anything stupid enough to try to enter, theyd surely lose their way. MORE STORY BELOW.

There was a distinct joy in the realm, a brief moment of peace where people focused their attention on a regal wedding, speedily approaching, streets adorned with banners and galands, it was truly a spectacle. Everyone was excited, everyone that was, except the bride. She'd been keen to run her fathers buisness, perhaps grow the trade routes, focus on her work, instead being paired up with a man not more than 10 years her elder, another from a high society family. Despite her pleading, the young woman was fated to marry, and be a second seat to her husbands triumphs. No freedom of her own.

The wedding came around fast, every noble house attenting, a great cost, and quite frankly the worst day of the young womans life. She was doomed to an ordinary, subdued life with this. A shackle on her ankle in the shape of a middle aged man with nothing that even remotley interested her.

Walking down that isle in the finest gown money could buy made her want to turn and run until she couldnt anymore, it was as if the roar that shook the room suddenly was a...relief? It happened so fast, screams, the crashing of glass, a huge ornate window ahead being broken into a million pieces, the head of their local swamp dwelling dragon appearing in a glittering, smoke filled moment, the glowing pink from its neck as the smog filled the space, stinging lungs and eyes alike. The noble woman felt fear of course, but watching her husband to be get snapped in half by mighty jaws was quietly a small joy. Her legs didnt work, falling back to try to get away. Guards appeared, started shooting bolts at the beast but none even scratched the hide, their futile attempts brushed aside with one mighty sweep of its taloned paw.

The woman managed to crawl a fair distance away, thinking her efforts quite good, until that is, cold sharp digits stamped on the long train, stupid dress was her undoing, falling again. It scooped her up in a secure clawed grip, giving a bone shaking roar, before loosing a blast of gas, pinkish hue, filling the room. It turned, exited the window, and looked back, a different breath, this time of flame ignighting its previous move, the entire space going up in flames with a mighty rush of air.

As it flew off with great broad strides of its wings, the screams of terror and pain echoed, the young woman knew she'd never escape this, she'd be taken back to its lair and eaten for sure.

What followed was however quite the opposite. She watched the swamp come into view, her captors home where it landed on a solid little hill of dirt and shrubs. It gently put her down, her feet still refusing to work, legs jelly with every attempt to get up. It did not eat her, did not snap or roar, no thick fog escaped it's gils, it just sat and watched. After a while the woman managed to get to her feet, holding a falled tree for stability.

"W-What youre just toying with me then?!" her ferocity was amusing for a human, and the dragon shifted to lie down, closer to her head height somewhat. This of course spooked the mainden who tripped backwards on the long dress, every second passing it became more soggy and dirtied, the white quickly dimishing in the swamps.

The dragon used it's long tail to rummage in the shrubs around it, the clanking of metal as it pulled a human backpack, bits of human remains falling from it, nothing but bones. It dumped the items near the woman and waited, she didnt get the hint, starting to relaise this form perhaps wasn't the best for this job. It loathed being in it's puny human body, but seeing as this wasnt working, it had no choice.

The dragon shut its eyes and huffed, the smoke exhaled allowing it to shift from its huge battle ready body to something more familiar. The bride saw this happen, expecting to be eaten once again, but the smoke clears and she sees the towering form of a woman, easily 7ft, strong build, the gils on her neck still there, less obvious, eyes still very much draconic, horns present, but otherwise she was a battle scared adult woman with ridiculously long hair...completly naked. She shrieked, looked away withhot cheeks and tried to get up again. This was at least less intimidating...sort of.

"Human, take the gear and go. You're free to leave this place." What? She looked over, the dragon rummaging around to find a pretty tatty looking robe, throwing it on loosly. "Youre not going to eat me?" "Contrary to popular belief, not all dragons like to eat people. You dont exactly constitute a full meal to something our size." As she spoke the woman noticed the presence of a lot of very sharp teeth in her mouth, less daunted as she perched on a tree stump and wiggled her feet, mindlessly amused with the human form she was taking, more so than focusing on anything else. "Oh...but...why did you take me in the first place then?" The dragon shrugged, the mess of hair it had falling in unruly ways as it glanced over. "I could feel your misery a mile away. Figured i'd give you a second chance at living, you humans sure like to make choices that bring about a lousy quality of life. I rid you of the issue plaguing you, and now you can go wherever you like without concern for a useless partner." The woman though scared stepped closer, a single pace, then another. "But...why? You could have left it alone." why meddle in human affairs? The dragon had no need to.

"You do not recall me, and so theres no need to dwell on it. I owed you, and now I do not. a Debt repaid." This was news to her, she'd never seen this beast before, not to her recollection, instead of leaving, sitting beside her. "Remind me." The more time ticked by, the less scary this felt, other than her beastly apperance, she was just a large woman now, the bride could settle her nerves and try to make some sense of this. No longer a captor in her mind, her rescuer, this monster, looked to her with subtle surprise, one eyebrow raised.

"You were just a child. Your family crossed into the swamps to reach the city, pausing to rest your horses briefly. You wandered off into the fog, the other humans werent watching you, and you had no fear of this place." Peach ruminated on the memory, it felt like just the other day, but years clearly flew by since then, she'd not seen the child again since then, and now here she was, an adult. "I'd been defending my home from soldiers, but an arrow was lodged deep in my leg, couldnt get it out, had accepted to just live with it, wasn't that bad. But you came along and you were too small to feel afraid of me." Plum sat and tried to remeber, she must have been so young, her father told her the story of her getting lost here, but he didnt know what happened, no one did. Except this dragon, and now her again. "Well you got the arrow out after a lot of difficulty, so I sent you back to your people so you'd not get eaten here."

There was quiet, the two women sitting in the humid space, sounds of bugs all over, before the little noble laughed, shocking the dragon. "What?" "It's kind of fate, right?" Plum shuffled to face her companion and grinned, still amused by this all. "I'll stay with you! You must know so much, you could teach me, and when I go home, i'll be able to do so much more to help everyone!" The dragon couldnt register that set of words, ticking them over, expression thrown as the human took her hand, holding it gently, a feeling never experinced before, a soft touch. "uh-" "Good! It's settled then!" With gusto the little woman stood and went to the backpack, puling a rusted sword, using it to cut her ridiculous dress down to a managable length "This isnt a good idea, hey- lady" Plum was already briskly trotting over to the highest point, its ground solid and sturdy, behind her the towering woman keeping up with a casual pace. There was no talking her out of this it would seem.

Over the weeks the pair built a small shack, the dragon thieving supplies from others, merchant carts with fine things, farmhouses, the odd caravan of travellers, leaving gold as requested by her small human companion, a dumb but soft hearted addition to her looting. She complied, it kept her company happy. Plum had found great joy in the dragons company, they'd share stories by the fire, nothing feeling more freeing than not having hand maids on your heels, no fine dining or fancy dances, no corsets, no stupid shoes with pinched toes, just living humbly out in the swamps, with a monsterous creature. Then came the first ever chance to fly. The noble had ruined her clothes, working, exploring, living, and it was becoming an issue now, she needed some new gear, so her dragon companion, her large scaled body lowered down, let her climb up on her back, and off they went. Terrifying as it was, she knew it was safe, and soon the fear melted away. If she could, plum would never come down again, a true delight to be up there, where no one else goes. They raided a nobles estate away for the winter, and scarpered without them even noticing, a whole new wardrobe.

This peaceful company continued for a while, but nothing good lasts. Peach was taking a rest, huge dragon body splayed out in the sun that filtered through the swamp trees, content, while plum sat by her little home with a book, a calm moment. That peace was broken, a javellin came soaring through the air, in from the top, falling with skill and good aim directly into the body of the beast. Peach felt sharp pain, a stiff metal rod sinking below her tough scales, whipping up with a fierce roar, using one clawed hand to try to get it out of her neck, failing. Plum was with her in an instant, trying to get a grip on it but the blood slicked the metal, making it difficult to grasp. A gentle push with one clawed foot moved her out of the way to saftey, back by the house, Peach standing with a menacing sneer, hearing the footfall approaching.

A knight from the city stepped forward, his gear flawless despite the swamp, another javelin in hand, sword at the ready on his belt. Plum recognised the insignia, one of her fathers men, was he tasked to finding her? She was not sure yet, but had to stop this. She ran between the dragon and this man, shouting to him to stop, go no further, to which he obliged, shocked.

"Youre alive?!" his voice faltered a little, not daring to remove his helmet, eyes still on the dragon who was glaring daggers at him. He watched the noble woman turn to the monster and soothe it, a private word between the two of them that he didnt catch, and for now, the beast tucked its wings up a little and did not seem to attack. "Yes, im alive, and you should be ashamed of yourself! First thing you do it hurt her? Thats so rude!" Baffled, the man let his shoudlers slump a little, no longer prepped to throw a weapon or draw a blade, unable to look away from the beast. "Take your stupid helmet off!" demanded, the noble woman pulling rank, to which the knight reacted to, removing it with a hesitance. He was a strong looking guy, beard, long hair tied back, not too old.

"I...I was sent to get vengance...but youre alive." His head spun, no one had survived a dragon attack before, until now that was. "You need to apolagise to her right now! Get this stupid spear out, I cant-" Plums attempt again was futile, it was really lodged in there, and from the looks of things, it would stay that way, barbed at the end to prevent it from falling back out. "I can't, it'll eat me!" "Dont be so pig headed, she's in pain and you caused it, you'll get over here and fix this right now." The man, though terrified, had to follow orders, and so he dropped the spear and took a step closer. The dragon shot a menacing toothy snarl at him, forcing him to pause, before gathering strength and taking another step with a breath. Surely if it wanted him dead it'd have done so by now...right? he was in striking distance, finally by the side of the woman who kept trying to yank the weapon out, blood coating her clothes and arms. His strong grip took over, and he half expected to see the monster recoil in pain once removed. But as the javellin tore free, it didnt even skip a beat, one eye locked onto him fiercly, he could hear the rumble in its throat, a low growl of threat, body towering over where he stood, the pain not enough to even make it blink. Nothing shook its focus from him, clearly ready to strike if he so much as put a foot out of line. His hands were stripped of the weapon, plum throwing it into the shrubs, looking at him with displeasure.

"You can't tell my family i'm here." The knight looked to her with shock. "Dont you want to go home? The Swamps no place to live." and with that he watched the dragon sit back on its haunches and pick her up, a protective, careful, gentle hold, where she was able to sit in her arms, higher up than him and feel safe from this stranger. "I am home. You can either run to tell people and try to escape her-" Plum pointed to the dragon who would not be outran. "Or you can just go home and pretend like you didnt find us. Your choice."

The issue was that he was hired as a last hope, any before him had tried to hunt for this dragon and failed, the bogs were difficult to navigate, deadly at the best of times, and constantly shouded in heavy fog. Few made it home, and they got a flogging for not having results. Plums father grew impatient at their incompetence, and a few hires previous to him, they turned up empty handed and the next day were hanged for their failures. "I can't go back without either you, or proof that it's dead." he knew he'd be dead if he did. "It's not and 'it', it's a 'her'." corrected by the noble, he repeated. "Before she's dead." Truth be told he was fascinated with what he'd found. Everything he'd ever known about dragons deemed them nightmares of the sky, they brought death and destruction wherever they went, this one was supposedly no different. He'd never been this close to one and not been fighting for his life.

"Perhaps we can come to come kind of arrangement then." A sly grin came over the little womans features, and Grey knew she had a plan.Wether it was a good one or not, was yet to be decided.

[spacehostilityy]

Okie well I can't shut up ever so I'm going to compile my thoughts here on Tumblr as I rewatch nnt fom the beginning !! Also pls feel free to scream and/or rewatch with me👉👈👀

Kinda long so more thots below the cut

Season 1, episodes 1-6

I forgot how good the writing and animation are in the first season, like they truly thrived under aniplex😔 the brief white blood period in I think season 3 shows us just how good we had it

I love seeing Hawk and Meliodas's relationship, and his star Boar earring😭 plus having the Boar hat as the main location is just so comforting !!

Also I JUST realized his name is hawk because of a ham hok😭😭 this is like when I realized toe mater's name was tomato at the ripe age of 18

I miss the holy knights being powerful. Like I get that the Sins are always more powerful than them, had a long way to go in terms of power ups, and meliodas straight up had most of his power sealed but like DAMN. They were so cool in season 1 !! Gil was such a badass😭 I guess I just wish that the holy knights powered up along with the Sins

Seeing the very first episode got me thinking about the original pilot Manga (chapter 0) and how cool it might have been !! Like I love the story we got, but I do think those versions of Mel and Elizabeth maybe would have been better than the ones we got😳 like I just really like Meli's original design, I feel like he looks a bit older, and chapter 0 Elizabeth is simply superior ngl. She's funny, brave, and assertive - a lot more like Liz and goddess Elizabeth, except funnier

The first half of season 1 has one of my fave intro and outros like damn I forgot how fucking cool they were. Some of my fave songs to !! (my all time fave is def howling from season 3 part 2 (i think lol) tho)

Like look how cool this is !!! It reminds me of this pic from the manga

Speaking of intros, I miss the title cards !! Like look how cute this is !!

Everytime the fiddle (?) Music plays I get SO FUCKING HYPED BRO like damn Ik it's through all the seasonal and I'm so glad it is because it's rlly the perfect hype song - here it is on Spotify

Also Gil is such a badass in early episodes, I love his strength !! This moment is the fucking coolest and you can't convince me otherwise

Overall, I think the attention to detail is just better, the sounds the armor makes, the animation and drawings (esp background characters), Meliodas just sounds a bit older too (and I have theories on his voice here if u want them 👀)

The whole perv thing is really exhausting really quickly. Almost surprised 14 year old me made it through this as the 2nd anime I ever watched and the 1st I watched alone

I feel like Diane got shorter through the seasons. Like she doesn't compare to Hawk Mama like she did in season 1, and I think that's a damn shame. Let my giant girl be giant !!

She's also a decent bit more violent and I enjoy that thoroughly. She's just a silly goofy kween😌

Also her original costume is superior, her boots are just👌

Just realized that Meliodas was like an older brother/mentor to Gil and now they're brothers in law 😭😭

Also young Elizabeth and Gil are so cute😭 I always forget that they grew up together too

I love Hawk, but I feel like kicking him would just be so satisfying 😔

HOLY SHIT I forgot how badass Ban is when weren't first introduced to him !!

The humming while impaled and bleeding out he really is that girl tm

He's such a masochist. A damn if it isn't kinda hot.

Wow they really introduced Diane's body issues and then almost never bring them up again

Also my plus size Diane headcanon is so real like damn. Body issues girlies are being represented by her fr😔

Ban's slutty waist. That's it. That's the thot.

Also his pre series hair. First season reminding me why I love Ban sm

Lowkey miss the dragon handle sword. The broken blade was so cool:( Lostvayne still cool tho

I think it's so funny how they always wore their armor as holy knights, and yet anytime they wear armor in the present time line, it just immediately cracks off😭

Really anything except pants is going to be blasted off🤪

Okay SO in episode 5, when Ban is about to get his scar from the dragon handle sword, he tells Meliodas "you and me have been hanging together for a lot of years now." This scene takes place 12 years before present (bp). Does this mean Ban and Meliodas were friends before the formation of the Sins? Or was Ban the first after him and Merlin? Ban has been immortal 20 years BP, leaving 8 years in between present and the flashback. 8 years before this scene, Meliodas was still in Danafal/Danfor and would be for another 4 years. What does any of this mean? Idk, just thot it was intriguing lol.

Also how did I not notice this is the first time we see demon!Meliodas !! Baby's first sighting as an unnatural creature with otherworldly rage🥰🥰

Also the fact we never see the scar Gil gave him again lol. Plus him presumably needing to do demon mode so hellfire can heal him is actually rlly cool

Just thought about how Elizabeth laying her hand on his chest to check the scar was the first time in years his love touches him with gentleness or concern🥲🥲

The fact that it took me 6 years to realize that when Meliodas says he'll keep the promise he made to Elizabeth, even if she should die is referencing the promise he made to her originally to break their curses🥲😬😤😭😭😭😭

6'11 Ban thinking that he even had a chance in fitting in Jericho's armor is just so... him

Diane calling Elizabeth kiddo is so fucking cute🥺

Also they definitely get away with a lot more innuendos and swears. The words badass and foreplay in the same episode? Impressive

[last-flight-of-fancy]

Four times Scions assume the nature of Hallima's relationships, and one time they are completely wrong.

Wol: Hallima, Au Ra he/they. Occasional vague references to other WoL's

Timeline: ARR to vaguely mid-EW. Explicit spoilers for ShB and Dark Knight HW quests.

rating: T (swearing, references to sex)

Pairings run the gamut from traditionally romantic to found family to queerplatonic to friends with benefits, inlcuding but not limited to:

WoL/Aymeric, Aymeric/Estinian, WoL/G'raha, WoL/Leofard (physical only), WoL/Estinian (estinian insists its companionably physical only but lbr he's Attached)

To say the entrance of what remained of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn into Ishgard had been a cold and miserable affair would be nothing short of an impressive understatement. Still reeling from the loss of their friends and on the run, even once they start to get their feet under them, ending the Dragonsong War and earning the respect of much of Ishgard’s historically xenophobic population, they generally had greater things on their minds than something as petty as romantic entanglements.

It was a missed opportunity of unfortunate timing, looking back. Haurchefaunt could not have been more obvious in his intent, but the recipient of them simply did not have the attention to spare for them. Something which Haurchefaunt seemed to understand at least, even if that does not quite soften the sting of grief and lost potential. All present were aware of them though, even if there wasn’t space to act on it, and it is generally quietly agreed upon to let such matters lie for a time.

Which is why Alphinaud is rendered entirely at a loss for words when Emmanellain takes him aside to inquire after exactly that.

“I beg your pardon?” He has to make sure he’s heard right.

“Our dear old boy has made quite a name for himself you know, it would be passing strange if no one at all has made any advances on him.” Emmanellain nods with confidence, as if this makes perfect sense. Perhaps to him it does. “And as House de Fortemps leading gossip monger t’would be remiss of me not get my news direct from the source. Or direct adjacent to it at least.”

“I rather think we have more important things to worry about, don’t you?” Alphinaud holds himself steady, despite desperately wishing there were a nearby window he could throw himself out of.

“Not at all!” Emmanellain says cheerfully. “The dalliances of the nobility have ever been the subject of much gossip and scrutiny, t’would not be an exaggeration to say it is an entire realm of politics within itself! And our dear mutual friend most certainly counts after all he has accomplished.”

Something niggles at the base of Alphinaud’s ear, and he’s learned to listen to his instincts in matters such as these.

“How much gil do you have riding on the answer?” He asks. Emmanellain ducks his head slightly at having been caught out, but barrels on despite the flush dusting his eartips.

“That’s of no matter, old boy, truly. Even if I did not I would be curious as a dear friend!” Emmanellain pauses then, lowering his voice. “There are rather more nasty rumours attached to those one’s too, of course.”

“Is that a threat?” Alphinaud glares, posture tensing sharply with the implication. He hadn’t expected such a thing from the youngest Fortemps son, but then he hadn’t expected it from the Crystal Braves either.

“What?” Emmanellain blinks, surprised. “No, not at all. I merely wished to hear the truth from the chocobo’s mouth. Second-hand. Mostly because our dear Warrior of Light is surprisingly difficult to get a hold of.”

This is not Alphinaud’s experience, who hardly has to utter a word before Hallima would be there ready to offer advice or support. He rather suspects this is on purpose.

“Fine.” Alphinaud heaves a heavy sigh. “What rumours?”

“Oh a great many, but most recent are some sightings of him in the Brume. It’s all a touch confused, but there’s something about other dragon men and a lovers quarrel.”

“Well there definitely wasn’t a lovers quarrel.” Alphinaud snorts. Such a thing would require a lover, first of all. “But he has been spending a lot of time in the Brume and Forgotten Knight, that much is true. I believe he has taken up a mentor in knighthood there.”

“Oh?” Emmanellain seems delighted by this. “Perhaps this does explain some of the rumours, and the rest are simply exaggerations for a salacious crowd. Is he truly taking up sword and shield like Haurchefaunt?”

Emmanellain seems so hopeful at the prospect of the Warrior following in his departed half-brother’s footsteps that Alphinaud hesitates to answer.

“I do not know for certain. I know only that he has taken up the sword and meets with his mentor whenever he has a spare moment.”

“I see, I see.” Emmanellain nods solemnly. “Perhaps that is where the tales of lover’s quarrels arise then. T’would not be the first nor the last coupling that sprung from the heightened passions of battle and the tight bond between mentor and disciple.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

-

The truth was this.

Meeting Sidurgu is…. strange. Amongst other things.

Past the obvious fact that they share a heritage and beyond the fact that Hallima is resolutely ignoring that first fact for his own peace of mind, there is something about Sid that feels familiar in a way he can’t quite pinpoint.

Sid is rough and blunt and not always quick to catch on, but who cares deeply at heart beneath all the carefully crafted spikes and scales of his past. Rielle is small and quiet and still learning to unearth the firebrand wit and bullheaded stubbornness that her past tried so hard to bury. She reminds Hallima of Minfillia, were Minfillia an elezen girl of barely twelve summers and a parental unit who does not deserve a title so kind as ‘mother’.

But Sid reminds him of… someone. No one. He’s not sure.

It’s not Haurchefaunt. In fact Sidurgu couldn’t be more different from Haurchefaunt if he tried.

Maybe that’s it.

(It won't be for months yet that Hallima will meet another Auri adventurer, and weeks after that before they find their way to the Azim Steppe. Both of these things will bring answers and questions more in equal measure)

It’s obvious when they first meet that Sid and Rielle are both still grieving their lost friend, a friend that Hallima’s subconscious had stolen and appropriated in a way that thoroughly blurred the line between where Hallima began and Fray ended. Esteem slumbers now, curled deep within the Abyss unless needed, but to deny his existence is to deny simple reality. Many would have found that reality difficult to grapple with, but thankfully Sid is no stranger to the unorthodox ways the powers of a Dark Knight can manifest, and bears him no grudge for it.

Perhaps that’s why, despite Sidurgu by all rights being everything Hallima tends to gravitate to in a partner aesthetically- tall, elegantly beautiful, undeniably masculine- nothing ever quite arises between them. Perhaps he simply feels like he’s trodden upon Fray’s grave enough already.

Which in the end suits all of them just fine. Hallima doesn’t need that sort of attachment to swing by the Forgotten Knight just to share a drink and talk, or to be pulled outside by Rielle in order to engage in an impromptu snowball fight. They are brothers in arms, in the truest, purest sense of the phrase, united in the darkness of the Abyss.

Pain brought them together, and love makes them return.

-

(“Did you see the way he reacted?” Rielle asks, after Hallima has left and it is just her and Sid left in the Forgotten Knight.

“To what?” Sid glances at her, curious.

“Your story about the Orl.”

“What about it?”

“I’m not sure exactly… Almost like he was remembering it. Do you think something similar happened to him?”

Sid hums to himself, almost a growl in his throat, but not quite so menacing. It’s possible, no one seems to know much of the vaunted Warrior of Light’s past after all.

But there are certain things that… The warrior’s purely Gridanian accent, his obvious lack of knowledge for their shared history, the age wear on his scales that any Au Ra would have long since put a traditional balm on… Sid himself has lost much and more of his cultural identity since the family of his birth was torn so brutally from him, but he retains what scraps he can. Hallima on the other hand seems to know almost nothing. It wasn’t far fetched at all to think another tribe fleeing the Steppe may have met a fate similar to his own.

“Maybe…” Rielle bites her lip, unsure if she should continue. “Maybe you’re not the last Orl.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Sid snorts. “He’s not Xaela.”

But even to him the excuse is weak. He remembers there being at least two Raen amongst the Orl, either married or adopted into the family in the course of their escape from the Empire. There may have been more, but the memories are too fuzzy and distant now to be sure.

He does remember the day a new babe had been born into the family, though mostly for how he couldn’t ride in the cart that day and the next as a result, and his feet had hurt terribly by the end of it. His father had carried him when he could, but at ten summers Sid was quickly getting too big for such extended exertion, and could only do so for short periods.

He remembers sneaking into the cart in the dead of night to stick his tongue out at the sleeping babe and mother, childishly upset at being put out and wanting to vent his frustration. Both had slept on entirely unaware of him, and he’d left feeling foolish but calmed. He doesn’t remember what either of them looked like, shrouded by memory and darkness.

“I guess it must’ve just been that Echo that people talk about then.” Rielle says, and Sid doubts she’s completely bought his deflection but she lets him have it anyway.)

-

It was no secret amongst the Scions that Aymeric was courting the Warrior of Light, or at the very least attempting to. If the many letters and gifts did not give it away, then Alphinaud’s tales of the utterly besotted looks that Aymeric would give said Warrior certainly would.

The question was not whether Aymeric was attempting to court the Au Ra. It was whether his affections were reciprocated.

“Hallima is a bit… inscrutable in these matters.” Alphinaud admits as the group sits around a table in the Rising Stones.

“Mayhap he simply has no interest in them.” Y’shtola says, paying full attention to the conversation despite initial protestations at its silliness. “Some do not, after all.”

“Minfillia was like that, wasn’t she?” Alisaie asks, and Y’shtola nods.

“Aye, oft did she tell me that she could not imagine an individual love eclipsing her love for Eorzea as a whole.”

The pang of loss stings still, but there is comfort in discussing their lost leader in this casually fond way.

“Hallima’s not though.” Thancred shakes his head, arms crossed.

“How do you know?” Alphinaud tilts his head, genuinely confused. Thancred shrugs.

“I just do. I’ve got a sense for these things.”

“For all save thineself.” Urianger says just evenly enough to give lie to the dry humour beneath. Thancred flicks his fingers at him, but the action lacks any true annoyance.

“You better not have slept with him.” Alisaie warns, pointing a finger at him like a sword. Thancred puts his hands up defensively.

“Come now, what do you take me for? He’s not my type. You know, the feminine kind.”

Alphinaud fiddles with his cup intently, while Alisaie stares flatly at Thancred, and Urianger coughs under his breath. Y’shtola hides her expression in her tea.

“What?”

“None of this tells us if Hallima is aware of Aymeric’s advances.” Alphinaud taps his fingers to his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s possible he may have interest but simply does not know the intent behind the gestures.” This is a silly use of his intellect, but it’s nice to use it for something less serious once in a while. Like having a sweet after weeks of nothing but Archon Loaf.

He doesn’t actually mind Archon Loaf all that much, at least not compared to many, but he could still enjoy the sweet all the same.

“Well, if you ask me, and you should,” Tataru speaks up as she approaches the table, arms full of a large platter replete with snacks, “I don’t know if Hal knows the more noble courting gestures, but he definitely knows the language of longing looks and lingering touches.”

“And how do YOU know that?” Alisaie says, scandal in her tone. Alphinaud raises an eyebrow at her, surprised at her reactions. Usually he was the prudish one (in her words).

“I pay attention.” Tataru winks, passing the tray up to the table for all to reach.

“Well, we know he is not of any noble house.” Alphinaud says.

“Obviously.” Alisaie snorts. “If there was a noble house full of horned dragon people anywhere on this continent I think we would know about it.”

“Indeed.” Y’shtola idly rubs a finger along the rim of her cup. “It does make one wonder how he came to be in this part of the world. His kind are not a common sight beyond the far East.”

“Forsooth,” Urianger says quietly, unheard by all aside Y’shtola when the snack platter is nudged the wrong way and clatters loudly to the floor to the dismay of all. “I believe he dost not know.”

-

The truth was this.

Hallima has had less and few opportunities to explore things like relations and relationships in his largely brief time of being properly aware of them as a concept. Which is to say this is why he entirely missed Haurchefaunt’s intent until he lay dying in his arms, by which point it was, of course, much too late.

This event did prompt Hallima to pay more attention to these things however, and thus did in fact catch on to Aymeric’s gesture’s fairly quickly, with only a few stumbling blocks in the form of how Aymeric is also simply just… Like that. Particularly with Estinian. A fact which neither of them bring up until months later when Hallima stumbles into Ishgard looking more than a little haggard and exhausted besides.

“I feel as if it’s been an age and more since we had the chance to talk.” Aymeric says as he fills a pair of cups with a wine he has been saving for just such an occasion. “Even by letter, you are a difficult man to send mail to.”

An understatement if there ever was one. Hallima snorts and takes the offered cup, drinking long and deep before relaxing back into the too-plush chair with a sigh.

“Though by your countenance I surmise that your tales of late have not been entirely joyful.”

“You could say that.” Another understatement. Hallima doesn’t really want to talk about the way the Scions appear to be dropping like flies to some mysterious malady, or how much sleep they’ve been losing worrying about Alphinaud and his self-imposed mission to Garlemald. “Tell me about Ishgard. How the changes are coming.”

“As you wish.” Aymeric nods, and so he does. It’s nothing Hallima doesn’t already know really, having seen the fruits of his labours whilst travelling through the Brume and during his visits to Sid and Rielle. They let Aymeric’s voice wash over them, soft and smooth and a balm against so many other worries.

They don’t even realize they’ve dozed off until what must be much later, still sitting in the plush chair but now with a crick in their neck and a blanket draped carefully across them. Candlelight flickers beyond closed eyelids and the sound of a quill on parchment the only noise. They are still in Aymeric’s study, and apparently the man had no issue with a sleeping Au Ra occupying his spare furniture while he worked.

They rub the crust from their eyes with a wince, trying to gauge the time but all they can really gather is that it’s dark as pitch through the windows, which tells them only that it is somewhere between dinner and breakfast.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Aymeric looks up from his parchment with a smile. “Forgive my leaving you to your rest, but I thought you might need it.”

Hallima nods, but does not elaborate. They still don’t really want to talk about it.

“Sorry about that.” They say instead, attempting and failing to smother a jaw-cracking yawn.

“No need for that. If my friend needs to recoup his rest in my study then that is what he shall receive.”

“Is that what we are?”

Hallima blames their sleep addled state for the blunt slip of the tongue, but thankfully Aymeric seems neither surprised nor offended by it.

“First and foremost, yes, of course.” He says carefully, setting his quill down to give Hallima his full attention. “But if you mean in regard to the possibility of us being something else… Well, perhaps that is a conversation long overdue.”

Perhaps it is. It doesn’t still the nervous beat of Hallima’s heart. They nod.

“First before all else I must ask you; Hallima, is a relationship something you want?”

“… I don’t know if that’s something I can give.” They admit, wincing at the necessary honesty. “Even if I weren’t always pulled hither and yon I’ve never felt the call to stay in a single place for long.”

Aymeric’s smile is soft and he shakes his head.

“Nor would I expect you to, but that isn’t what I asked, my friend.”

“I…” There are so many things, so many reasons, they bottleneck in Hallima’s throat. “I’ve never…”

“Would it help, perhaps, if I made clear what it is I would beget from such a connection?”

Hallima nods. Aymeric stands then, moving around his desk and kneeling in front of them, his expression serious but not hard.

“I would have your company when you have time to give it. The chance to lavish you with affection and gifts and whatever you should wish for that you cannot attain yourself. I wish to give you a place you may always return to, whensoever you may want or need.”

Aymeric takes a breath, but he’s clearly not finished, and Hallima waits, heartbeat pounding in their ears.

“By that token I do not require what some may consider part and parcel of such a relationship, though I would welcome most all the same. I would not tie you down like a bird within a gilded cage, either physically or emotionally, nor do I require what most would consider the… consummation part of things.”

“You can just say sex.” Hallima says, feeling a touch light headed. Aymeric gives a small chuckle.

“Indelicately, yes. I would most certainly welcome it, but only at your own comfort. Which brings me to an important… Consideration, if we were to go through with such a partnership.”

Somehow this grounds Hallima, and they start to feel steady again. They are used to things being asked of them, but more than that they need this clarity.

“Which is?”

Aymeric takes a deep breath, for the first time looking a touch nervous himself, worrying a strip of fabric between two fingers in a subtle tell that Hallima only sees because they know to look for it.

“You are aware that Estinian and I are… close, yes?”

“Yes…?” Hallima tilts their head before realization hits them with the force of stampeding chocobo’s. “Oh.”

Aymeric’s smile becomes thin in the face of Hallima’s apparent shock, and it makes Hallima wonder how many of these conversations Aymeric has had where this was the point where things turned south.

“Indeed. To put it bluntly, Estinian and I have had our arrangement for a great many years now, and I will not abide jealousy or possessiveness where he is concerned. If this is not something you believe you can do I ask that you say so now, I will judge you not for it.”

Several things click into place in Hallima’s head and heart at once.

“You’ve been scorned for this before, haven’t you?” Is out of their mouth before they can think better of it, followed quickly by a wince and, “Wait, that’s- you don’t have to answer that. Sorry.”

“’Tis a natural curiosity.” Aymeric’s chuckle is sincere at least. “Aye, I have. Not all are suited to an arrangement like this, and many simply cannot fathom splitting romantic commitment twixt multiple partners. As stated, I judge them not for their natural inclinations, only regret in their poor reaction to anything different from their own.”

They’ve seen enough of Ishgard to know how rigidly the state adheres to the familiar, both for survival and comfort. Hallima can only imagine how carefully Aymeric had to tread with something that would have so easily invited scandal at best and accusations of heresy at worst.

Hallima may not have known such a thing was even possible a bell ago, but already it feels as natural as breathing to them.

“Doesn’t seem that strange to me.”

“Full glad am I for that, then.” Aymeric’s smile loses much of its tenseness. “I take it you are not opposed..?”

“Consider me fully in favour.”

-

Aymeric doesn’t get much more work done that night.

-

All things considered Tataru Taru manages to establish a solid network of gossip and information from her seat within the Forgotten Knight with astonishing speed. Such was the talent that she had recently discovered in herself, and one she was determined to put to full use. For the good of Eorzea of course.

Being as how the bulk of her experience lay in being tender to the Scion’s collective coinpurse, it thus made sense that she grew to know who was of like inclination in the area as well. So it was that when a hyur woman took her seat next to Tataru, Tataru was not at all surprised by it.

“Stacia.” She greets, barely looking up from her mug (watered down, but alcoholic enough to keep an appearance).

“Taru.” The Red Bill Pirate greets in turn, motioning to the bartender for a drink.

“I hear you’ve picked up an adventurer to help with your recent troubles.”

Tataru expects her to play coy, make her guess, but instead Stacia grins.

“That we did. And you’ll never guess who.”

Tataru feels like she can, actually.

“The bleeding’ saviour of Ishgard himself!”

Got it in one.

“Well well, lucky for you.” Tataru means that sincerely. “I’d say your problems are all but solved now.”

“Well, not quite yet, but it’s looking a damn sight better than it was before. Not to mention the Captain has taken such a shine to him, it’s right nice to see.”

Tataru squints up the pirate skeptically.

“We are talking about Leofard, right? The incorrigible flirt?”

“Oh he’ll flirt up one side and down the other, make no mistake.” Stacia nods. “But he don’t often mean it past a little fun. Wouldn’t surprise me none if he tried to talk Hallima into joining the crew full time.”

“He’s welcome to try.” Tataru snorts, taking a sip of her watered down beverage. Stacia chuckles.

“Aye, tis clear the Warrior’s heart is elsewhere, but even still. Even just making the offer means much from Leo.”

Tataru may not know the man herself, but she can imagine it well enough. Too bad for him, she rather doubted Hallima was the sort to be swayed by a pretty face.

-

The truth was this.

Hallima could definitely be swayed by a pretty face at least once.

-

(They part ways sated and on good terms with no strings attached. A night less about passion than about the feeling of safety without the burden of unresolved emotional baggage. Hallima has a standing invitation to come back anytime.)

-

It’s not that surprising when it’s Alisaie who confronts Estinian. Nor is it surprising that she does so alone, which tells Estinian that he is about to get an earful and a half from a child who stands less than half his height.

A bizarrely common occurrence since he had joined up with the scions, all told.

That said however, he has no intention of playing into whatever her hand is, so when she stands imperiously over him with arms crossed and glaring he responds by leaning back in his chair and staring right back.

She, predictably, hates this, and it’s not long before she cracks.

“What are your intentions with Hallima?”

Estinian blinks. Of all the things for her to take him to task for, he honestly hadn’t expected that one.

“What?”

“What. Are your intentions. With Hallima.” She repeats, as if he is a particularly slow and impetuous child.

“In what regard?” He waves a hand. “As a fellow scion? As Azure Dragoon? As brothers in arms against the end of all on this star?”

“As a-“ Alisaie flushes as red as her coat. “As a. Partner. Romantically.”

“None.” He answers frankly. Alisaie glares again.

“You had better not be lying to me. We’ve all seen you coming in and out of their room at all hours.”

“I am many things but I am not a liar.” Estinian huffs. “And what I, or the Warrior of Light for that matter, do on our own time is our own business I should think.”

“It is.” Alisaie admits, though it seems to cause her great pain to do so. “I just… Want to make sure they’re treated right. We all know how they tend to put all others above themself.”

Estinian feels himself smile a touch. This much is a fact, and he more than understands the protective instinct for a loved one; there are at least two bodies buried in the snows of Coerthas of some particularly unsavoury souls who had attempted to take advantage of Aymeric’s good nature and unorthodox relationship for blackmail purposes.

Aymeric doesn’t know of course, and Estinian is inclined to keep it that way.

He reaches out to put a hand atop Alisaie’s head gently.

“A noble cause.” He says. “And one I would likewise pledge myself to.”

Alisaie bats his hand away, trying and failing not to pout adorably at being treated like a child, but she seems mollified by his reaction at least.

“Well. Good then. Right.”

-

The truth was this.

Estinian and Hallima are assuredly not courting, though they do often commiserate on their mutual connection through Aymeric. This much was accurate.

They are also, and this Estinian entirely failed to mention to Alisaie, definitely fucking when time and energy permits.

Which isn’t that often all told, but such is the reality of being the hero’s of a star.

-

The truth is this.

Hallima has a type.

Tall, pretty, undeniably masculine.

G’raha Tia, by his own measure, fits none of these things particularly well. All things being a matter of perspective of course, he has long forced himself to be realistic where his personal hero was concerned.

Unfortunately he was not wrong to either. G’raha was masculine enough to be sure, but his is a boyish sort of charm, quite apart from the more measured and confident types he has seen Hallima drawn to time and again. The same could be said for his looks as well, G’raha considers himself to be rather middle of the road as far as aesthetic went, and while that did not bother him overmuch it did much to dampen his chances.

As for tall, well….

Every time he has to crane his head up to look the seven fulm Auri in their vibrant magenta eyes, G’raha knows he never really stood a chance.

Of course that would imply that he ever thought he had a chance before such preferences became clear, and that is nearly as laughable as said chances, but still. At a certain point it does feel a bit like the universe is laughing at his fool stubborn heart.

Not that any of this really matters of course. Even if G’raha had any plan for surviving past the hero’s return to the Source (he does not), all he truly wanted was to just.. Be there. By the Warrior’s side, adventuring and laughing and telling stories. What cruel irony of his own making it was that he cannot have even that, hidden beneath the Exarch’s mantle as he is.

But the Warrior will live. Hallima will live. And that is all that matters.

For both the star…

And for him.

-

(Hallima calls his name, and several hundred years of resigned determination crumbles like dust.)

-

The truth is actually this.

Hallima had a pretty good idea that he knew who the Exarch was from about…. week two. The only reason it took that long was because G’raha had glamoured himself quite thoroughly to hide his mi’quote traits, and obviously spent many years training himself to hide whatever other tells he could. Unfortunately for G’raha, Hallima had an uncanny ability to remember people, even amongst beast tribes that many had difficulty telling apart. It is probable that nothing short of a full fantasia transformation would have thrown them off for long, and the body dysphoria as a result of a transformation not fully wanted- as well as the rarity of the substance- just wasn’t worth it in the long run.

So yes, Hallima knew, and held their tongue about it. They didn’t know why G’raha was so intent on hiding his identity, whether to throw off some pursuer or perhaps had lost his memory or some other strange effect of Syrcus Tower, but Hallima had every intent of figuring it out before they went blabbing to all and sundry about it. Unfortunately whatever investigating they could do had to take place in between everything else, so it’s no surprise when they never really get anywhere with it.

In the end they run out of time, and as the Exarch steps forward in a blatantly fake attempt to play the villain, Hallima knows it’s now or never.

They call his name, his hood and glamours falling away, revealing his expression to them for the first time since the doors of the Crystal Tower had closed between them so very long ago.

He looks heartbroken.

Looking back, Hallima will realize this as a turning point, if a small one of many, but a significant one nonetheless. It starts to become clear just the kind of depth of emotion that G’raha harbours for them, and it’s… Intimidating. Something which almost rings absurd when it becomes clear that G’raha fully believes that he is far beneath the Warrior’s time or attention.

And yes, Hallima will be the first to admit that he has a Type. This much is most certainly true.

However, and this the perpetually self-doubting mi’quote had failed to take into account, it is not the only factor.

Did it mean that it took a bit longer for Hallima to notice said affections? Yes. Did it mean that Hallima had to spend a non-zero amount of time trying to figure out what they felt beyond pure physical inclination? Also yes. There was also the small matter of how G’raha had essentially been lying to them for months on end, and regardless of his understandable reasoning, that still stung a bit. Not enough to sour them, but it did add to the pile of complications Hallima needed to work through before their feelings could go anywhere.

All this was of course significantly stalled by the ever present threat of the Final Days and all that surrounded them, so it’s not until much, much later that Hallima finally gets to walk into Sharlyan and offer G’raha the one thing he wanted most of all.

“An adventure?” Red ears perk in surprise and excitement as Hallima talks various details with Krile. There is a long pause as he wrestles with his desire and his responsibilities, and then-

“Ohhh, go on, Raha.” Krile says with a laugh. “I can handle things here for a bit. Bring me back a good story, alright?”

Hallima finds himself grinning at the sheer, animated joy G’raha springs into with her permission, barely waiting long enough to put his books down before he’s out the door with a spring in his step and a shine in his eyes.

It’s this moment that Hallima wonders why they didn’t find him attractive before.

They wait a few days, taking the opportunity to finally spend some more low-stakes time together and get in some of that adventuring that G’raha has longed for. It’s the least he deserves after everything he’s given and sacrificed really. Hopping from place to place, solving mysteries and fighting monsters. It rings of a simpler time to both of them really.

It’s a beautiful night, the moon hanging full and bright in the sky, partial cloud cover and a lack of wind rendering the night temperate enough to make the campside fire almost unnecessary but for the kettle simmering just above the low flame.

G’raha pokes at the embers with a stick, sending a shiver of sparks into the air, a small smile on his face.

“A few more minutes, I should think.” He says.

“For your legendary hot chocolate recipe?”

“Did Lyna tell you that? Well, she may have over sold it a touch, and I am no culinarian, but I will admit that this one thing I can make to standard.”

“As long as it’s not sludge then it’s probably better than anything I could make.” Hallima says. “Seriously though, I’m sure it’ll be great, give yourself some credit.”

G’raha’s ear flicks, a pleased tell.

“I must thank you again, my friend. This trip has been nothing short of everything I had hoped for.”

“Good, I’m glad.” Hallima grins. “But we’re not done yet. We have at least another week or two before Krile will start expecting us back.”

“We had best make the most of it then.” G’raha meets Hallima’s gaze, relaxed and content in a way he rarely got to be, brilliant red hair lit to glowing in the dim firelight.

“That’s the plan.” Hallima leans back and closes his eyes, basking in the fire’s warmth and considering his next move.

And he would have to make the next move. Raha certainly wasn’t going to.

”Ah, I do believe it’s ready!” G’raha announces proudly as he lifts the kettle from its hook. Hallima waits patiently as G’raha sets about pouring the warmed milk into a pair of cups, adding a precise mix of chocolate and spices to them and stirring carefully.

“Thank you.” Hallima says when he’s offered his share, and the two sit quietly as they sip carefully on the drink.

“I was right. It’s delicious.” Hallima grins teasingly at G’raha, who tries to cover his flush with a cough, though the tilt of his ears betray him anyway.

“Very good. I wasn’t sure if it would be quite the same, as Aldgoat milk and what we used on the First is of a slightly different consistency and- ah. Anyway. I digress. I’m glad you like it.”

“Don’t stop yourself on my account.” Hallima chuckles. “I like listening to you ramble.”

“You say that now, but you’ll regret it by hour five.” G’raha warns, but his lips are turned upwards. “Even Krile tires of me after a long enough.”

“I suppose I will simply have to take a break by getting you some water. You must be parched after that long.”

“You tease, but truly there have been times where I could have kissed such a person for bringing such refreshments in the midst of a long lecture.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Hallima’s smirk does not lessen, and he rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

It takes G’raha a second to process that the intent of the tease is exactly what it sounds like, and from there he flusters adorably, ears flicking and eyes darting to and from Hallima several times in quick succession. His tail swishes wildly behind him.

“Ah, pray do not tease me so, I beg.”

“Hmm, I will try but the urge to make a dirty joke about begging is strong.”

G’raha groans and buries his face in his hands, embarrassed but not truly upset as far as Hallima can tell.

“Seriously though, G’raha.” Hallima leans forward. “I’m not blind, and even Y’shtola can see it. You’re one of the most stubbornly determined people I have ever met and that’s saying something, and yet…”

“What do you…?” G’raha lifts his head to look up at Hallima, confused. Hallima leans down until their noses are nearly touching.

“I know what you want.” He whispers. “Consider this your invitation to take it.”

G’raha stares wide-eyed up at Hallima, frozen.

“I- you-“

“Have I misread?” Hallima tilts his head just slightly, taking care not to accidentally catch G’raha with the tips of his horns with the movement. G’raha swallows audibly.

“No.” He finally finds his voice. “No, you have not. Forgive me, I did not expect…”

“Reciprocation?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my own fault, probably.” Hallima leans back again, sensing they will have to do some serious talking before getting anywhere. Fair enough. “In the First I wasn’t really… In the right mindset for that, and then the whole star was set to be wiped out and. Well. Needless to say I only just managed to spare Aymeric a visit last week, there just hasn’t been time.” And even in the brief moments there technically had been, such matters had been by necessity pushed far from the forefront of his mind.

“Speaking of Aymeric, are not you and he…?” G’raha fiddles with the bracers on his arms nervously. Hallima tilts his head again.

“You don’t know? I figured it would be common knowledge by now. To make a boring contract short and sweet, yes he knows and we are both free to bed and court who we will. Which is something you would have to be okay with.”

Hallima takes a sip of their rapidly cooling hot cocoa as he waits for G’raha to finish processing what he is being offered. It can be a lot to take in at once, he knows, but thankfully Hallima is nothing if not patient.

“You- Really?” G’raha seems to still be struggling.

“Am I really in an open relationship that you would have to be okay with being a part of if you and I were to court? Yes. Am I really open to the idea of courting you? Also Yes. Enthusiastically.”

G’raha laughs a little then, a surprised sort of sound.

“Forgive me, my friend, I have made a poor showing of myself and been nothing but tongue-tied. But if you truly do mean it-“

“And I do.”

“-Then I would accept.”

Hallima grins so hard his cheeks hurt.

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

-

Bonus:

“Ameliance have I mentioned lately that if you had even an shred of masculinity to you I would climb you like a tree?”

“T’would be a short climb for someone of your height, I’m afraid.” A laugh.

“Seriously though are you sure I can’t talk you into-“

“I am afraid not. Fourchenault may have his faults, but I do love him.”

“Okay but I have this mi’quote friend who would jump at the chance to court you properly. I’m just saying.”

“I shall take it under advisement.”

[fieryaxolotl]

10 Characters 10 Fandoms

Alright... So, I was tagged by @solverne-02 and @arvalee-knight (a very long time ago! OMG)

I honestly can't remember the last time I did something like this... oO

Sooooo here goes!

1 - Alchemy of Souls - Seo Yul

2 - Dragon Age - Fenris (actually it's a tie between him, Solas and Abelas... the voices... I mean... I'm a sucker for deep voices)

3 - Tomorrow - Park Joong Gil

4 - Final Fantasy Tactics - Mustadio Bunanza

5 - Mr Love: Queen Choice - Kiro

6 - Hunter X Hunter - Kilua

7 - Supernatural - Gabriel

8 - Sailor Moon - Sailor Pluto

9 - Mass Effect - Garrus

10 - The Arcana - Asra

Tagging @shannaraisles, @twocatstailoring, @puppygen and who ever wants to :)

[gatheredfates]

06. no space left for me | alaice devereaux

Do you want to read all of my FFXIVWrite prompts? You can do that here!

RING. a small circular band, typically of precious metal and often set with one or more gemstones, worn on a finger as an ornament or a token of marriage, engagement, or authority. surround (someone or something), especially for protection or containment.

In her fingers she twisted a band of gold and black — onyx gems ringed by precious metal spun on the axis of her hand. It was not her favourite. She found the piece too dark, too domineering, too foreboding; a statement piece her husband had presented in the vapid belief women were attracted to such things (that the men of the court would know their place as she soon learned hers). It was one of many things she chose not to argue about, more excited at the prospect of a marriage than what might lay beyond the threshold.

She wondered if circumstances could have been different if she had resisted. Her husband had the capacity to be a good man — he could meet her eye to eye if he chose so. She liked to think he would have smiled at her, taking that hand in his as he led her to the goldsmith. She liked to believe he’d let her pick what she liked.

She liked to believe that she was the cause of her own misery. That, if she had just tried a little harder, he could love her properly.

“Lady Dubois?”

Maybe if he loved her properly, none of this would have come to pass.

“Alaice —”

The woman jumped out of her skin, recoiling from the hand of the Temple Knight that reached out to catch her attention. He jumped back just as fast, as though she were a leper or a venomous animal. He straightened his stance and coughed into his hand.

“S-Sorry, what do you need?”

In truth, she couldn’t blame him for being unnerved. Antoine was a fresh-faced boy of seventeen summers. Hailing from the Brume, he joined the Knights lowest rank to bring in gil for his family after the Dragonsong War, especially after his father had been chronically injured in the battle for the Steps of Faith, and was hoping to prove them a proper home in the Firmament when it was constructed proper. She remembered all of this because he had thought to tell her in the hopes his prattle might distract her; that she might forget Draeir was dead in the room beyond.

“Your Lord Husband — you said he often attended to guests here?”

“Oh, yes, he was always busy.” Her disassociation seemed to be working in her favour. She looked to her left, just beyond Antonie, where the pool of red stopped trickling across the marble floor. It congealed black — black like his heart, like the pretty ring on her finger.

Subconsciously, she raised her hand and began to fiddle with it again, as if she could prise the gems from the seal. Antonie turned his head and winced, shifting his body to try and block it.

“I promise we’ll find who did this and bring them to justice,” he assured, as though mere word could bring it to fruition. He had no reason to believe otherwise. He was raised on stories of nights and valour; that a princess could be saved with a kiss and a dragon could be slayed with a spear to the heart.

Life was not that simple. A knight could be a dragon and the princess could possess a dagger in the dark. She could still see him in the black between her eyelids; he gurgled, he clawed and he fell to his knees.

Alaice’s eyes welled. Not because she grieved for him. She cried because she was frightened and she was angry — angry that he robbed the last dregs of innocence from her — angry that she was now subject to this.

Her nail broke on the ring. She winced and tucked both behind her hand.

“Thank you. I appreciate your service.”