#drk spoilers kinda sorta maybe

[fistsoflightning]

@to-the-voiceless​ i goofed when i reblogged the thingy lol here’s your ask!

i got some dark knight vibes from this one, and my hc is that eight people share one (1) soulstone bc drk story is everyone’s story at this point (imagine, if you will, 18 billion frays to accompany 18 billion different warriors of light. that is how the flood of darkness began LOL)

Feo Ul has been searching for their favorite sapling’s book for forever now and still it is nowhere to be seen! They’ve searched under blankets, behind hanging robes, above dusty tomes, inside crusty bags, and still nothing!

“Where in the world could it be?!” They stomp at the air angrily, eyes following to look down at the desk Feo Ul hovers above—in case they were to fall from the lack of aether here in “Mor Dhona”. Who names their lands such a thing with no meaning, anyways?

Then a glint of a sapphire shard catches Feo Ul’s eye;  maybe the desk is Zaya’s? And if that was their sapling’s desk…

Feo Ul lowers to the table, eyes flicking across the messy, messy desk, and lands upon a stack of whetstones, kneeling only to have a look around without hitting the moogle lamp hanging above them.

When they catch sight of a leather string hidden behind a pile of cloth, Feo Ul jumps up, wings carrying them over quickly.

“There you are, you silly book!” Feo Ul grabs the leather cord holding it shut and flutters backwards until it pops out from behind something stone and dusty. One of those tablets that the Scions and the Exarch were obsessed over… maybe.

As Feo Ul lifts the book up into their arms the best they can, a piece of paper flies out, landing on the table. A waxy purple seal like the ones the Scions use to seal their letters for Feo Ul keeps the envelope closed—thank the stars—but it isn’t addressed to a friend or anything.

It’s addressed to ‘future me’.

————————————

A flash of sparkles and lights in front of Thancred’s eyes was not what he expected when he woke from his nap.

“Oh, Thancred!” Feo Ul seems mildly surprised, but Thancred is more surprised by the hefty book the small fairy lifts in their arms.

“Good evening to you too.” Thancred rumbles, still blinking the flashes of color from his eyes. “Were you looking for something?”

“My sapling, of course! They requested I fetch a book from home for them…” Feo Ul suddenly stops, spinning to look Thancred in the eyes. “Can our precious sapling even read?”

Thancred, for all his annoyance at pixies and not being able to sleep more, laughs. “Though you may be led to believe they can, they can’t; it’s likely a book they wanted someone to read to them. Zaya can barely write, much less read books such as… “The Tales of Four Auspices” ?”

“Then what’s this?” Feo Ul unceremoniously drops the book into Thancred’s hands, only to dive down to the book and pull out a letter. Before Thancred can respond with the smartarse answer of ‘a letter’, Feo Ul flips the envelope around to reveal the addressee.

“ ‘Future me’? And you found this with the book?”

“Yes!”

“And by the looks of that seal, you’ve opened it.”

“...Yes. I was curious, alright?!” Feo Ul angrily turns from him. “Besides, I think they already know what that letter’s trying to tell them, after all you’ve done here and now!”

Thancred lifts an eyebrow when Feo Ul turns back around, which appears to be the final straw for said pixie. “If you don’t believe me, read it for yourself! Give me that book!”

Feo Ul, almost entirely fueled by anger and spite, lifts the book with ease and dissipates back into the aether, leaving Thancred, in the middle of Slitherbough’s resting rooms, with a letter that does not belong to him and a headache. 

“Gods, I know I said I’d try to get along with the pixies, but if it isn’t damn near impossible…” Thancred glares back at the letter in his hand, purple wax seal cut open by sharp nails taunting him. He’s curious as to what ‘future me’ meant, but is it worth potentially invading Zaya’s privacy?

A tap on his right shoulder snaps him from his trance in a barely suppressed yelp. Thancred turns only to find Zaya, Y’shtola standing right behind them.

“What have you there, Thancred?” Y’shtola murmurs, eyes dim and unseeing. She’s clearly stopped her aethersight for the day, so why is she still out and about? “Zaya seemed interested when Feo Ul came with a book and purple wax.”

“A… Zaya’s letter? It could be anyone else’s, but Feo Ul…” Thancred carefully chooses his words, not wanting to receive a beating for holding an open letter meant for Zaya. “Feo Ul opened it up in curiosity.”

“A letter to ‘future me’? I do not remember writing such a thing, or writing at all.” Zaya signs, still leaning over Thancred’s shoulder. “Should we read it together?”

“But, is this not your letter? Should you not have Feo Ul read it to you?”

“I trust you enough not to make fun of what I potentially may have wrote.”

“...If you insist. Y’shtola, would you like to sit down?” Thancred carefully flips open the envelope as Zaya guides Y’shtola to sit besides him, Zaya simply moving back to his shoulder to lean over him.

“Alright, here goes…” Thancred clears his throat.

Dear future self,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I know, I know; I agreed never to try and take control again, but something remains to be said. Something important.

Our adventures, our answers and compromises; all were made while we were alone together—and that surely sounds silly, but it is important. We—I am used to doing things alone. A choice made in face of the past to prevent more unnecessary loss; Minfilia, Haurchefant, Ysayle, Papalymo, Noraxia, Musosai, and countless others were not saved by teamwork.

Ah, but that is what we think. They made those choices to save us—all of us, and it’s brought you to the here and now, where your guilt managed to manifest as I did. Don’t worry; they’re still sleeping inside us somewhere, content with watching as I am now. We live and breathe in their memories, their bright futures turned to fumes. Their strength alone was enough to save few; it was them or us, and on those precarious scales of life, they valued us more. Bittersweet, to think they sacrificed their everything for us only for us to cling to our past.

And in the path you walk, therein lies the chance of losing more, hurting more, and so you stand still, afraid to continue on alone once we find ourselves in a situation we cannot win with our “pragmatic” thinking that we are always alone, even in eight.

What I’m trying to say here is this; not every battle must be fought alone. There are times when it will be a closer call than any, and we will be afraid to ask for help. We always have been so dearly afraid of showing weakness in that unshakeable facade of “Warrior of Light”, but there are many who would cast titles to the wayside and stand by you until the battle is won—or until the battle is lost.

We merely need to open our eyes to see we stand together with hundreds who believe more in the mortal behind the title than the title. It is not such a cold and desolate world yet that every man stands for himself; you have simply thought it that way with our long years away from the warmth of familiarity and home.

And when all those standing beside you, protecting your front and back, fall to the inevitable enemy where you must stand alone or perish, you have me. You have us. Merely ask it of us, and you shall know that there is no one that truly stands alone.

We love you more than you’ll ever know, but if you are ever unsure if you are loved, if you are worthy, if you are strong enough for the daunting task of living in spite of all the pain and misery and self-inflicted loneliness we’ve wrought; look around you, and you will finally see what I’ve wanted this entire time.

There is no signature, but Thancred brushes his thumb over the space where one should be. Gods, was this really Zaya’s writing?

Y’shtola hums in gentle curiousity. “Zaya, does this perhaps relate to the specter that helped Ryne halt the lightwarden transformation?”

“You say this to her.” Zaya signs close to Thancred’s face. If it were brighter, perhaps Thancred would be able to tell whether Zaya’s eyes were irritated or filled with tears. “It does. It would take much explanation to tell you why.”

Thancred repeats the words to Y’shtola, who merely nods.

“I would not prod, and for all the time we now have I do believe Runar wished to have us try something. We can perhaps discuss this later with the others?”

When Zaya nods, Thancred unconsciously says yes to alert Y’shtola. It’s almost a reflex now, to translate for Y’shtola and Zaya’s conversations.

The three of them get up and leave in some messy fashion as Zaya stumbles over a loose rock, nearly taking Y’shtola with them to the ground.

Behind them, the letter remains on the bedside table, and in the darkness of the sleeping room, someone whispers.

You’ve finally learned. I’m proud of us.