#i think that in the loss of the rest of the company regis had nothing left to live for

[hanzajesthanza]

also regis swearing at stygga is so meaningful to me because he swore over milva’s dead body and also in front of angoulême (and assumedly cahir too)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[airis-paris14]

Starlight 4

Summary: Amani is an orphaned heiress who’s spent most of her life raising her younger sister. T’Challa is a widowed King and Father. Neither of them is expecting much from their night at the Lotus. But the coming months have many milestones in store for these young adults. Will becoming a family be one of them?

1 || 2 || 3 || 4

“Sis, you are killing my dating life,” Madiyson whined as she and Amani cleaned the glasses at the bar. “I’m killing your dating life? It has to exist for me to kill it.” Amani murmured.

“Haha.” Madiyson threw her rag at the other waitress. “Look, you go to all these fancy parties, with rich eligible men, and you never invite me. Girl, you’re holding me back from my husband.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to go to those parties. All the men are old and boring, and they all want something from you.” Amani sighed and began hanging the wine glasses on the rack. “Yeah, some good lovin’.” Madiyson shimmied her way around the bar laughing.

“Oh my god.”

“So you’ve never met any young attractive guy at these parties?”

“Well….”

“Well?”

“Well, He’s the exception to the rule.” Amani sassed.

“See, I’m just asking for one chance. One party.”

“Fine fine,” Amani placed the last glass on the shelf. “Amare won’t be home for another month so you can go to the next party.”

“She’s not coming home for spring break?” Madiyson frowned.

“Nope, engineering conference with her school. In France.” Amani pouted.

“Yeah, I’d choose France over you too.” Madiyson teased.

“Shut up,” Amani pushed her. “This isn’t how you get the invite to this gala.”

“Now, you know I’m just messing with you girlie.” Madiyson hugged her friend.

“I know, but sometimes it just feels like she doesn’t need me anymore.”

“That’s a good thing! You’re not her mother, and you’re young. One day you’ll have kids and get to go through it all again. Except they’ll be infants this time and you won’t be in college.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Amani smiled.

“Aren’t I always? Now, tell me all about this exception to the rule guy.”

“What do you want to know?” It’d been three months since Amani had heard from T’Challa. Not even a text or letter. “Tell me anything,” Madiyson shrugged. “Well, he was attending our yearly investor gallery. He saved me from a boring conversation and we sat out on the balcony and talked all night.”

“That’s it.”

“That’s it.” Amani turned back to putting the dishes away. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” Madiyson accused.

“No, I told you everything that happened,” she fought to hold back a smile. “At the party at least,” Amani added. “Okay, so what happened after the party?” Madiyson prodded. “Well, before the party-”

“Before the party!” Madiyson exclaimed moving closer to her friend as a couple of guests looked over at the outburst. “Yes, before the party. You remember that table I handled for you when I got into work?”

“The one with the father? He’s the dude from the party?!”

“Yeah, his name is T’Challa.” Amani blushed. “Did he recognize you?” Madiyson bubbled, pulling Amani to sit in the break room with her. “Yes, and his daughter asked that I hang out with him the next day.”

“So y’all spent the day together?”

“And they both stayed the night.” Amani blushed. “Sis-” Madiyson started. “Then me and his daughter made breakfast and we went to the park.Then he asked me on a date, and they spent the night again.”

Madiyson stared open mouthed, “This was all a few months ago and you didn’t tell us?”

“Tell us what?” Sakura interjected as she walked into the breakroom from finishing her last table. “That she has a boyfriend who spent the night.” Madiyson smirked.

“He’s not my boyfriend, and his daughter was there too.” Sakura raised an eyebrow at Amani’s rebuttal. “Besides, there’s nothing to tell, I haven’t heard from him since they left.”

Sakura frowned, “They left?”

“They went back home, out of the country.” Amani explained. “That’s good news, he may just not know how to get intouch with you from his home country.” Madiyson offered. “I guess, but he still could have sent a letter or something.”

“Just give him a chance to explain himself,” Sakura encouraged. “Yeah, I just wish I knew something,” Amani sighed. “If you never hear from him again that’s his loss sis,” Madiyson hugged Amani.

After hustling through the rest of her shift, Amani finished cleaning her tables, hugged Madiyson and Sakura goodbye, and headed to pick up some dinner from her favorite burger joint. She hopped in line and placed her order. She had just pulled out her phone to pass time when a familiar voice invaded her senses. “Is that the heiress I see?” The king chuckled.

“Your majesty,” Amani bowed smiling in return, “You're back stateside.”

“Yep, Ada and I got in earlier this morning.” The king smiled. “Cool,” Amani smiled back before turning back to the pick up counter. “I also had a special someone that I promised to take out on a date.”

Amani raised an eyebrow, “She must be real special.” T’Challa smiled oblivious to her sarcasm, “You could say that.”

“I wonder if you called her like you didn’t call me,” Amani sassed. “T’Challa’s mouth dropped open slightly. Just as he went to respond one of the worker’s called Amani’s name. She walked away from him to grab her food. The king hurried after her, “Amani, I didn’t realize until we got home that I didn’t know how to reach you from out of the country.”

“And you couldn’t write a letter? Or call someone at the company that I own and ask for it?”Amani deadpanned as she walked towards the door, not stopping until T’Challa gently grabbed her wrist. “Amani, I am sorry. I didn’t think and that is obviously not an excuse, but I would still like to hang out with you.” Amani calmed slightly as she heard the sincerity coating his voice. “Please? Let me make it up to you?”

Amani nodded in response. “Great, are you free friday? At 8:00?”

The heiress smiled, “Yeah, I am.” T’Challa beamed, “I’ll pick you up?”

“Sounds like a date,” Amani winked, “I should let you get back to Ada.” The king glanced at the bag of food in his hands. “Why, don’t you join us for dinner tonight? She’s asked about you.”

“Oh, um..” Amani tried to quiet the leaping of her heart. T’Challa grabbed her hand, “We would both really enjoy your company Amani,” the king’s thumb traced soft circles on her wrist. “I’d love to,” Amani smiled back, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, grateful that it wasn’t too noticeable on her skin. “Great, I can give you a ride or?”

“Oh, no I drove my own car. If you give me the address, I’m pretty sure I can find my way there.” Amani smiled, pulling out her phone. T’Challa gave her the address and they hurried off to their cars. Amani smiled as she noticed what hotel they were staying at. “St. Regis huh,” Amani chuckled as she pulled off. Along the way she stopped to grab something to drink, and a box of cookies from her favorite bakery, she text T’Challa that she was on her way before beginning the drive to the hotel. Within 25 minutes, She pulled up to the valet counter and handed over her keys. Amani walked into the lobby juggling her food, the cookies and a drink. She walked towards the elevator before realizing she didn’t know where she was going. Amani sighed and gingerly reached for her phone in her pocket. Just as she went to dial the king’s number, his name flashed across her screen. ROOM 1009. She chuckled knowing he’d read her mind.

Amani used the edge of her iphone to call for the elevator and began her ascent to the 10th floor. She hummed lightly to herself and prayed that she had read the room number right. The door dinged open and she walked out into the carpeted hallway. Her sneakers padded along the floor as she read the door numbers, relieved that she had gotten off at the right floor. She made her way down to the ninth and final door. She knocked and smiled to herself when she heard the rapid pattering of feet approach the door. T’Challa laughed, “Well, are you going to let me open the door for Ms. Amani or not princess?”

“Sorry baba,” Ada replied, her bouncing feet still audible through the door. The door handle clicked and Amani was welcomed into their penthouse suite. “I brought cookies!” The older sister grinned. The former prince shook his head as his daughter cheered beside him. T’Challa grabbed the cookie box from her hand and Amani followed them into the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home with me if she’s too hyper,” Amani jokes slightly. “T’Challa smiled before grabbing her a plate from the cabinet. “Where’s my hug princess Ada,” Amani grinned scooping the little girl in her arms. “Hi, Mani!” the little girl squealed.

“How are you?” Amani asked, placing the little girl back on her feet. “I’m good, I missed you.”

“I missed you too princess,” Amani reached for her own food. “I’ll warm it up for you.” T’Challa offered. “Thanks.” The two adults smiled at each other before Ada pulled Amani into the living room.

T’Challa’s heart melted at the sight in his living room. In just a few seconds Ada had pulled out all of her dolls for Amani to see. Amani sat on the floor in front of the couch greeting the doll princess Tiana. T’Challa cleared his throat, “I hope your royal highnesses do not mind my interruption, but I think that Ms. Okeke would like to eat her dinner.” Amani thanked the king as he handed her a plate with her burger and her drink.

“It’s okay baba, we were just going dress shopping for the ball,” Ada explained “The ball?” The king grinned, bending down to his daughter’s eye level. “Yeah, like the one we went to with Auntie Shuri and umakhulu.” Ada nodded excitedly. “Okay then,” the father sat back into the couch, “have fun.”

Amani took a bite out of her burger as the little girl collected her dolls and ran off. “Her first royal ball huh?”

The king nodded and sighed, “She grew up so fast. She got tired of being left out of ‘all the fun’.” Amani finished chewing before pulling herself up to sit on the couch. “You got any pictures?” The waitress finished her burger while the king scrolled through his phone. He held the phone up to her face once she was done.

“She looks adorable!” Amani squealed. “Her dress is so pretty!” On the phone, Ada was standing next to her father a smile stretching across her face. She and the king were matching in their black and gold. She wore a black halter-neck ball gown. The black silk was covered in delicate gold brocade and embellishments. Her hair was braided around the crown of her head, with a large gold halo tucked into her braids. “She’s so precious!”

“I know, she looks just like her mother,” the king smiled, Amani squeezed his hand. “You look pretty good too,” Amani playfully nudged his shoulder. “Thank you,” the king smiled putting away his phone.

“You want a cookie?” the heiress asked getting up from the soft couch. “Sure,” the king followed her into the kitchen. Amani popped open the box grabbing two chocolate chip cookies before popping the box in the oven.

“Did you work today?” The king bit into the warm cookie. “Yeah, unfortunately,”Amani groaned.

“You don’t like the work?” The king frowned. “I mean, the people are great, it's just tiring like anything.” Amani explained, finishing off her cookie. “If you don’t mind me asking, why do you work? I am assuming your parent’s set you up well enough to thrive without a job?”

The king watched as Amani grabbed the cardboard box of cookies out of the oven once more. “They did, but I’ve always been independent. I used the money to pay off bills for the foreseeable future. We already owned the house here in Atlanta and I kept our vacation homes in South Carolina,Florida, Savannah, New Orleans, and LA. Used the money to continue paying the staff’s salary and put away money for Amare to go to school and start a life. Then I got a job to pay for youtubing equipment, travel, my car, and clothes.” Amani took all but four cookies out of the box and placed them on one of the white plates from the cabinet.

The king nodded, “You don’t have a passion job you’d like to start? Instead of waitressing at a job you don’t really like.”

“I mean, I’ve thought about starting my own luxury event planning company. You know, weddings, gala’s, balls, birthday parties, sleepovers, any event you can think of really.”

“What’s stopping you?” The king stole another cookie from the plate. “Nothing hypothetically, but I enjoy doing that stuff for fun. I think I’d want to throw my own event first. Kind of build up my own brand and relationship with contractors instead of just popping up out of the blue like that.”

“I think you should go for it. Get a job as an event planner for a company, work your way up or start as an independent contractor.” The king smiled. Amani tapped her fingers on the white marble countertops. “You’ve got this all figured out don’t you?”

“That is what the king does, solve problems.”

“What about you? Aren’t you very busy as a king?”

“I am,” the father replied, finishing off his cookie. “Isn’t it a little hard taking care of Ada and going about kingly duties? Doesn’t she have to have like a tutor and a nanny or something?”

“I only bring her on trips when I know I can take her with me to meetings. Not all of the kingly duties are boring. Like the ball, or charity appearances. That is most of my work this trip and she was on spring break, I believe it is called here.” T’Challa explained. “Oh, she’s in school?”

“Yes, she attends a very prestigious boarding school back in Wakanda.”

Amani looked up “ You send her away for school? Isn’t she just barely 5?”

“It is how things must be, her mother is no longer here to take care of her.”

Amani frowned, I think the nanny is a better option, don’t you think she misses her father while she is at school? A school with all these strangers?”

“She is fine Amani-”

“Have you ever asked her if she is fine, or if she likes it?”

“No, why should I have to. I am her father!”

“Because I was her T’Challa. My parents shipped me off to boarding school as soon as I was old enough to leave. Then they sent Amare right behind me!” I spent less that 5 years of time with my parents face to face before they died. Now they are gone.” Amani confessed, tears brewing in her eyes.

“I- I am sorry. I did not know that,” the king started. “I know you didn’t. I apologize for getting upset with you. I am not her parent, but as someone who grew up in that life, talk to her, come and see her. Make sure there isn’t another way for her to stay home. It would truly be for the best.” Amani sighed.

Silence choked the room, “I think I should go,” Amani stood up from the counter. “It is getting late, we have an extra guest room. You should spend the night here.” T’Challa offered.

“It’s only ten o’clock your majesty, I think I will make it home alright.” Amani teased. “Very well, at least, let me walk you downstairs. I’ll put Ada to sleep and come back out.”

Amani nodded her consent before taking a seat on the couch. Her phone lit up as T’Challa headed into Ada’s room. She pulled out the device and saw a new message from Madiyson.

Madiyson: Whatever you’re about to say no to, say yes sis!

Madiyson: Just thought you might need to hear that.

Amani: How’d you know I was making a decision?

Madiyson: Ohh so I was right?

Madiyson: What’s going on? Don’t keep me out of the loop!

Amani: I’ll tell you in the morning.

Madiyson: In the morning!

Madiyson: Girl who you gon be with in the morning!

Madiyson: You’re finally letting someone love you down!

Madiyson: Ohh sis! Tell me!

Amani smiled and put away her purse and set off down the hall to where T’Challa had gone. She peeked into a doorway where she found the king, conversing with his daughter. Amani stepped closer to the door and inadvertently pushed it open. Ada’s eyes shot up and a grin took over her face. “Mani! Baba is trying to make me go to bed but I’m not sleepy.” T’Challa looked up in surprise at her figure. “Well princess, if you don’t go to sleep, tomorrow won’t come and then we can’t hangout more.” Amani pouted. “Really?” Ada sighed.

“Really princess. Sleep makes the clock go faster and faster and speeds everything up so that tomorrow can come earlier.”

Ada looked to her father for confirmation. The king nodded his head and she sighed. “Okay. Thank you Mani.”

“No problem princess, just count backwards from the biggest number you can think of.”

“Goodnight Ada Ade,” T’Challa pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead. “Good night baba,” the young princess smiled back. As the king led Amani out of the room Ada called out once more, “Good night Mani.”

“Good night princess.”

The king led Amani out of the room gently before shutting the door behind them. “I hope you don’t mind me staying, I-”

“I am glad you decided to stay,”The king reassured her. “Good, I figured I couldn’t really get to know you if one of us is always having to leave,” Amani chuckled, “even after an awkward conversation… I want to apologize again for what I said, I had no right to criticize how you choose to raise your daughter.”

“Please, do not apologize. I am glad you said what you said. People are normally too afraid to criticize any personal decisions I make. I am glad you stood up for what you thought was in her best interest and I will definitely be giving the matter more consideration.” The king promised.

“Oh, good.”

“Well, the night is still young. Would you like to watch a movie or something?” The king offered, clearing his throat and moving closer to the heiress. “Umm sure, I should probably run home and grab some clothes for tomorrow. I’m just a few minutes away.”

“Okay. I will set up a movie and order some more cookies or something,” the king replied.

“Cool,” Amani jogged down the hall and to the couch, “I’ll be right back,” she smiled before heading out the door.

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @nyneebee @hutchj @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @strictlyashley @afraiddreamingandloving @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @yoyolovesbucky @derangedcupcake @builtalongthewayside @ilcb7 @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @dopegalkk @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @shesakillerkween @waitingonafriend @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr

[riviae]

there are times when the grief of it all—what he has lost, the hand he played in marching his friends into the very maw of death—overwhelms geralt.

he has never found sleep easy, but there are some nights where the memories eat away at him. the guilt has a hunger that threatens to strip him bare, leave nothing but the bones and aches of a life lived on the edge of a bloodied sword. geralt had never been afraid of death until he had people he cared about. perhaps he had been afraid of the pain, the suddenness, or worse, the possible torture of a slow death, but death itself? it was a mercy all witchers sought at one time or another; when you are shown only hate and fear, when your only option is to be shunned or despised, any end to that would be seen as a gift.

geralt cursed to himself. he had been wandering aimlessly through the night, and yet, he found himself in front of a certain graveyard. 

when he had first visited the mère-lachaiselongue cemetery, before he knew that regis was alive, he had found that unlike most places he passed in his travels, mère-lachaiselongue tugged stubbornly at his heart, so much so that a sprig of homesickness seemingly took root overnight. there was something achingly familiar about the ivy-covered mausoleum nestled within the forest of gravestones and oaks, something familiar in the scattered dark feathers of the ravens roosting on the roof that stared back with ancient, coal black eyes.

(it had only been a moment, but as he ushered roach back onto the dirt path, geralt had thought he caught the familiar scent of herbs--of basil, cinnamon, and thyme--in the wind. but then it was gone, just another ghost of a memory he could not put to rest.)

now, as he approached the crypt, he saw that there was a lantern by the door, its flame glowing a soft gold in the dark. it was a new moon, and despite his mutations his sight was limited, the pitch-black of night swallowing what existed in his periphery, leaving him with what amounted to tunnel vision unless he took another potion of cat. instead, he picked up the lantern with a soft smile and found himself opening the door and descending the stairs before he could convince himself that he shouldn’t.  

the vampire’s living quarters did not smell of death or decay--there was but a light musk of the old tomes that lined the wooden shelves and geralt felt some measure of tension leave his body at the calming scent of herbs. once upon a time, the scent had been strong and pungent, but like any scent someone is subjected to long enough, it eventually loses its strength. now, it reminded him of a forest, of six figures huddled around a campfire, of a home that only existed in his memories. 

“geralt,” regis says, tone pleasant and light as he continues to stir the contents within the large black cauldron, his back turned to the witcher. “what a lovely surprise. can i help you with something, my friend?” 

whatever reply rests on the tip of his tongue suddenly does not feel enough. he wants to say regis, i’m sorry. and why don’t you hate me? you died because of me, and everywhere i go in toussaint brings back another memory i’ve tried to bury and it feels like i’m losing my mind. instead, the witcher says,“did you know that the kitchen table in beauclair palace hasn’t been replaced yet?” 

the vampire turns around, leaving the large ladle in the cauldron without a forethought. geralt blinks once and then regis is in front of him, less than an arm’s length away.

in the dim light of the crypt, regis’ eyes glow a haunting silver as he reaches towards geralt. the warmth and weight of the vampire’s hand against his own is not unpleasant and he doesn’t even realize that regis has gently extracted the lantern from his knuckle-white grasp until it is resting alone on a nearby slab of stone. the witcher’s hands are trembling as if he’s stayed out too long in a frigid downpour, but he can’t understand why they are shaking now. he’s not afraid of regis--never has been, really. not even when he had first flashed his too-sharp teeth in a mocking sneer all those years ago. 

there’s a sudden, strange sense of dissociation, as if he’s not really in his body--as if it’s not his body at all. he doesn’t recognize it, the sudden trembling, the quickened heart-beat thudding in his ears, but it reminds him faintly of what he feels at the cusp of terror. the times where he had stared death in the face with nothing but a sword at his side. 

there is nothing to fear here, yet his legs crumble underneath him all the same, the dull ache in his bad knee rising to a painful crescendo. it is only thanks to regis that he doesn’t shatter his kneecap again, the vampire’s strong hold allowing for his knees to only lightly skim the floor. the witcher is barely supporting his own weight now, his heart still galloping at a rate much faster than it should as regis tugs him closer, tucking him gently against him. 

“it’s alright... you’re alright, geralt,” regis says softly, listening to the minute changes within the witcher’s circulatory system. “i’m here, with you. i’m not going anywhere. you’re safe here.” 

the words pierce through the fog within geralt’s mind, bringing him briefly back into the present. even in the worst of times, regis had been an anchor, something to cling to when he felt like his world was crumbling around him. 

(& then, suddenly, he had withered away--became ash, a crumbling pillar, another casualty that geralt somehow survived. a thing he shouldn’t have survived, but did. he outlived so many of his friends, so many of his companions... how much loss could one person take before it drove them mad? geralt wasn’t sure, but he felt himself teetering on the edge of some great precipice, unsure of what rested on the other side.) 

he hasn’t had regis back for long and he was still getting used to having the vampire in his life. in having someone he got to keep, to cherish. someone who knew what he had gone through, who had seen it with his own dark eyes and emerged from the rubble all the same. it was difficult, learning to rely on others, but geralt felt his hands unconsciously dig into the soft fabric of regis’ shirt, felt himself press closer to the vampire, still trembling, still on the edge of breaking, but soothed somewhat by the gentle beat of regis’ heart. 

“i still hear it,” he confesses, sorrow stuck in his throat. “everyone’s screams. your screams.” 

“geralt...” regis breathes, this time running a comforting hand through the witcher’s hair. “you aren’t to blame for any of that. we knew what we signed up for. everyone knew the risks, the likelihood of survival. it was our choice, geralt. don’t ever think that you had some nefarious role in this; you did not force anyone to go to stygga. you did not kill them. their deaths are not your burden to bear.” 

“that may be true... but if we hadn’t all met, if i had just gone on this journey alone... they’d all still be alive. you wouldn’t have suffered the way that you did, regis. that i know for sure.” 

“that may be true, but they also wouldn’t have lived. don’t you see, geralt? we loved being in your company. in becoming friends. our lives all collided for a reason--and i think we all became better people because of it. i don’t think anyone--not milva, dandelion, cahir, or dear angouleme--would have chose a different path even if they knew how it was all to end. destiny was not kind, in the end, but i daresay knowing you, geralt, changed us all.” regis paused, voice soft with adoration. “you have no idea how you affect people. how your natural kindness, your desire to do the right thing, no matter how difficult, inspires goodness in others. i know you would sacrifice everything for us... it’s only fair that you let them do the same, without guilt. let them rest, geralt. there is no need to torture yourself over things you had no control over.” 

at his words, geralt felt the rare sting of tears. his mutations had almost made the ability to produce tears impossible--but perhaps it was the years of loneliness, years of wishing things had gone differently, only to hear the kind words of one of his closest friends absolving him of such guilt, that made the tears spring forth. he cried silently, wetting the edge of regis’ collar. 

the vampire said nothing, but held him tighter all the same.

he cried until he could cry no longer, until he was so tired that his eyes began to close against his will. it was a start, he thought, just as he slipped into unconsciousness. it was a start in accepting all that had happened in his long life. but he had regis, he had ciri, he had yen, he had dandelion, and he had the other wolf school witchers--his own family of choice. the family he had made for himself. 

he didn’t need to face his grief alone. never again. 

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts...- 4 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ignis reached for his jacket quietly slipping it on as he glanced over once more to your sleeping form. He felt himself smile before stepping over leaning down over you gently giving you a kiss on your temple. Your eyes open as you turned your head looking at him, “Sorry…I didn’t want you to wake up without me here. I’m returning to the others to check in. Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sneak back in if you’d like.” You murmured to him reaching up grazing his cheek with your fingers. He leaned into your touch kissing your hand.

“Do not tempt me…” He smiled at you giving you one last kiss before walking away knowing if he didn’t, he’d end up next to you rest of the night.

He stepped out into the hall looking both ways. He was attempting to arrive at the boy’s room quietly to not cause too much of a stir. Of course, he knew it was a far cry that his absence would go unnoticed.

He cleared his throat before entering their room down the hall from yours, “Evening gentleman.”

They all looked up at him. They were playing cards. It was Gladio who broke the awkward silence, “Everything okay? You didn’t answer our messages?”

“Yes, everything is fine.” He told them taking a seat, “I apologize your majesty, I hope Y/N and I didn’t worry you too much.”

“I wasn’t worried.” Noct smiled at him, “I kept telling them that you both were fine.”

“Fine, maybe…” Gladio stared at Ignis across the small table, “But very unlike you.”

“I’m in a beautiful place and was escorting a Lady through it’s streets…” Ignis began to explain.

“It is the perfect setting for a romantic walk.” Prompto piped in with a big smile.

Ignis could feel his ears beginning to burn, “Quite…”

“So…” Gladio leaned forward putting his elbows on his knees as he grinned, “You just walked around the city with Y/N?”

Ignis was not a good liar and Gladio knew it. He took in a deep breath looking at his friend, “No.”

Gladio smirked leaning back in his chair, “…we brought you both back something to eat…it’s in the fridge.”

“Thank you.” Ignis got up nodding to them all as he walked over to the small fridge.

“If you want to warm that up, I can bring the other to Y/N.” Prompto offered.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” Ignis looked back at them all again, “I…Y/N said she was tired. With her recent bout of illness, I recommended sleep.”

“When one is tired it makes sense to sleep, yes.” Noct smirked at him a little.

Ignis scowled turning to the microwave reheating his meal. Once it was finished, he retired to the balcony to escape the insistent teasing of Noct and Prompto. He was only a few bites in when he lost his appetite. He sighed setting the takeaway on the railing.

“Not hungry?” He looked over at Gladio coming to join him.

“I thought I was, but it seems not.” Ignis looked down at the well-prepared food, “It is good though, I don’t think Y/N will enjoy it.”

“Well good thing we didn’t get that for her.” Gladio leaned on the railing, “We got her some soup instead. The…what’s it called one…kinda fruity…”

“Apple barley stew…” Ignis smiled a little remembering the first time you tried it at the Citadel.

“Mmm…” He watched as you shut your eyes spoon still in your mouth, “This…is…good.”

“I am glad you like it.” He smiled setting down his coffee and opened his journal.  You’d been in Insomnia for six months and every day you found something new to enjoy. It was positively a delight to watch you, “Now, you were telling me about the court of Orlais…”

“Mmm…please do not sour this delicious dish by bringing up that dreadful place.” You frowned a little as you stirred your stew to cool it off.

He chuckled a little. When King Regis appointed him to find out more about you and the world you hailed from, he thought it would be a dry gig and that you would be uncooperative. Instead you revealed a fascinating world and wonderful company and were happy to do so, “I’m sorry, I only wanted to keep with progression. If you have something more pleasant to discuss while eating…I am open to listen.”

“Let’s see…” You smiled thinking for a moment, “I don’t think I’ve told you about home yet…”

“You’ve mentioned it, the Free Marches, right?” Ignis set his pen to his journal.

“Yes…” You smiled taking another bite, “Most people would think it’s the ass end of the world…A few cities crying out ‘independence’. Away from the games of the rest of the world…home…rolling green hills, thick lush forest and swamps…My home was called Ostwick…”

He listened to you describe the terrain, it’s people, your family’s role. He found himself enraptured on your every word. When you finished you looked down to your hands, “I wish I could have gone back one more time…”

“That’s not where you came from?” He had stopped taking notes a long time ago.

“No…no I was high up in the mountains of the Western Approach…I haven’t been home since I was fourteen.” Your face flushed when you said that. There was a story behind those words.

“I’m sorry…I’ve upset you today.” He shut his journal setting on the table.

“No, it’s not you.” You smiled at him before you sniffed clearing away some oncoming tears, “I loved Ostwick, and I miss it terribly, but the rules of the land didn’t allow me to stay.”

“Rules of the land?” He leaned forward trying to understand.

“Mages…what I am…born with magic, we’re not allowed to be free people.” Your face reddened a little as you looked down in your soup.

“They enslaved you?” Ignis frowned.

 “In most ways…My father had to…regretfully, send me to the Ostwick Circle.” You swallowed a little before looking up to him with a small smile, “Um…I’d like to talk about that a different day…if that’s alright?”

“Of course.”

You eventually would tell him all about the horrible conditions of the circle and the uprising that pushed you to becoming Inquisitor. You attempted to mend the relationship of the entire world with mages. You lived an extraordinary life and were given the mantle of responsibility that no one should have to bear alone.

“It’s about time, by the way…” Ignis looked at Gladio when he spoke pulling him from his thoughts.

“Whatever do you mean?” Ignis looked out over the city allowing himself some time to give a more gentlemanly answer.

“You know exactly what I mean. You and Y/N…you’re a good match for each other.” Gladio smiled looking at his friend, “It took you long enough to ask her out…then we got this mission to deliver Noct and everything just rolled out of control. It’s not fair for you two to put everything on hold.”

“Hm…” Ignis took in a deep breath, “We had talked about it before we set out. We thought it would be better if we distance ourselves…it was a good theory until…as you said…everything rolled out of control…”

“And it took all the way to Altissia for you two to find time for one another.” Gladio grinned watching Ignis carefully as silent fell between the pair.

“What?” Ignis finally looked at him when his friend kept staring at him.

Gladio took in a deep breath, “Iggy, I’m the Shield of the King. Noct comes first. So, I need to know…”

“You have nothing to worry about. My duty to Noctis will always come first.” Ignis told him quickly.

“Good.” Gladio sighed making it obvious that he didn’t like asking those questions, “So how many dates did you guys go on before we left?”

“Several actually…over the course of a year.” Ignis smiled briefly, “Though we didn’t really need to go on dates. We got to know each other very well over the years because of King Regis’ interest in her. We had a great friendship.”

“But you wanted more then just friendship?” Gladio watched Ignis run a hand through his hair, “You’re not the first person to fall for someone in the workplace. Why didn’t you ask her sooner?”

“Hm…I thought her interest lay elsewhere.” Ignis sighed a little, “While I was the investigator…Nyx was her protector. I saw the way she was with him…and he was good man. They too would have been a good match.”

“Nyx? Really?” Galdio shook his head, “I don’t see it. He was too full of himself.”

“Yes, he was, but…You didn’t see what I saw…” Ignis trailed off.

“My Lady?” Nyx bowed dramatically when you approached him. Ignis had decided to escort you to the main floor after their meeting.

“Stop…” You flicked him in the forehead before turning to Ignis. “Thank you for lunch today…it was delightful. One day you’re going to have to teach me your culinary ways.”

“It was my pleasure, and I’d be happy to show you around the kitchen.” Ignis smiled giving you small bow, “Same time on Thursday?”

“Yes…I look forward to it.” You smiled at him before turning back to Nyx who was making quite the face as he rubbed his forehead.

“Damn that hurt…” He grumbled.

“Oh stop…” You pushed his hand away pulling his head down to inspect it, “It’s not even welting…”

Ignis watched you both be so comfortable around another. Nyx smiled at you when you leaned up a little giving him a kiss where you flicked him, “Well hot damn…you can flick me any time if you do that!”

“See…you ruin things when you open your mouth!” You pushed his face away with your hand.

Ignis watched you both push each other around like couples would. He envied Nyx and his ability to be so forward and wondered if he’d ever get to that point with someone.

“I am going to ask her to marry me.” Ignis told him quietly.

Gladio’s eyes widened looking to his friend, “You serious?”

“As a heart attack.” Ignis smiled at him, “She makes me happy…so happy and I’m nervous around her, something I rarely feel. Yet, she never rushes me into anything. She is just so…I have no words.”

“When she got that headache…my heart nearly leapt from me in fear. I could nothing for her but worry. But I knew, Gladio… I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.” He grasped the railing tightly shutting his eyes.

“You were pretty insistent…” Gladio nodded, “and it was alarming. I don’t blame you for worrying.”

“Ah!”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Ignis’ eyes flashed to the rearview mirror when hearing Noct question you. He could see only Noct and Galdio looking at you with great concern, “Ignis pull over!”

Ignis wasted no time pulling the Regalia off the road. Thrusting it into park he turned in his seat, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You were clutching the sides of your head bent over in your seat letting out painful grunts as your knuckles whitened. All four of them waited as you kept your head down. Ignis ordered Prompto for some water as you lifted your head slowly as your labored breathing began to worry him further. Blood trickled down from your nose as you looked at him through tears.

“Sweet Shiva…” Ignis looked at you feeling his chest tighten, “Y/N…”

“I’m…I’m alright…” You began to nod slowly accepting the water bottle from Prompto, “I’m okay…it just a really bad headache.”

“I’ve never seen a headache like that…” Gladio looked at the others concern evident as they watched you take a sip, “Noct’s was a god…and he didn’t have a nosebleed…”

“Well…I strive to be different.” You leaned back face flushed taking in slow deep breaths.

“You need a doctor.” Ignis told you quickly pulling out his phone to begin searching for one, “We can head back to Lestallum if need be.”

“No…I’ll be alright…” You told him quietly, “We can’t go back…”

“I’m afraid I’m not giving you an option. Your symptoms bare resemblance to serious conditions.” He rattled off misspelling words in his search, “Dammit…”

“…okay…” His eyes lifted up to the mirror seeing you resign to his care. The way you stared at him tears trickling down your face was alarming. He could only recall seeing your cry twice. The first, was when you closed your rift, closing off any chance of going home. The second time, he found you in a hallway by yourself…he never found out what had troubled you that day…but he knew then he just wanted to protect you.

This time wasn’t like either of those…your eyes seemed full of hope…

“I’m happy for you…” Gladio put a hand on his shoulder giving it a good squeeze, “When are you going to pop the question?”

“I was going to wait until after the wedding…but at this rate who knows when that will happen.” Ignis hung his head a little.

“Hey, cheer up. We’re in a beautiful city…and word is Luna will be arriving in two days. Noct got another visit from Ombre tonight.” Ignis looked at Gladio as he spoke, “I have to believe things are happening for the good this time.”

“I hope you’re right.” Ignis looked back at the glittering lights reflecting off the water, “For all our sakes.”

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Heart of Thunder - Chapter 3

A new chapter is here! Link to AO3 like always.

Cor felt strangely adrift as the door closed behind him with a silent click that echoed in his head like a drum beat. He walked through the barracks, his long legs eating the distance with the grace of a stalking carnivore. He had not come far when he heard passionate voices locked in a lively discussion. On silent feet he doubled back down the way he came from, not certain he could stomach more strange cultural practices at the moment, and made a beeline for the exit.

The air outside was dry and warm, if slightly cool with the first hint of autumn. Shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight, Cor put a tight lid on the tiny voice screaming in his mind in panic and continued on his way towards the private meeting rooms situated on the lower levels of the citadel.

People kept well out of his way when they saw the dark frown clouding his face. One poor secretary even flattened herself against the wall, clutching the folder within her hands like a lifeline. Normally Cor tried to keep such reactions down to a minimum, but today he just couldn't bring himself to care.

The doors of the lift opened with barely the whisper of a sound and let Cor step out into the corridor. A thick, black carpet lay in the middle of the dark stone floor, dampening is steps. Tasteful flower arrangements in delicate vases situated upon gilded tables barely big enough to hold them, were the only splashes of colour to be seen. His destination wasn't far now. A dark wooden door like every other one in the vicinity. He stepped inside without knocking, surprising the occupants into silence.

There were Lord Sagitta, Minister of Outside Affairs – which he took to mean outside Insomnia and not outside Lucis – and Lords Caulis and Hypocris, Minister of Energy and Environment and President of the Hunters and Wildlife Protection Association, respectively. He could guess what this 'important meeting' was about.

“My Lords,” he said in way of a greeting, accompanied with a shallow bow, and closed the door behind him.

“Marshall Leonis, greetings,” said Lord Sagitta, his watery eyes blinking nervously. “I have to apologize for the lack of refreshments. We didn't expect you quite this soon. Please, take a seat.”

The table dominating the room was indeed empty of the usual carafes of water and traditional watered down wine. None of the three Lords bothered to stand up as propriety would have demanded of them.

Cor may not be flaunting it like some idiots, but 'Marshall' wasn't the only official title he carried. His second one, Paladin of the Crystal, granted him the title of a minor Lord by default, and as such propriety had to be observed. The three Lords in front of him knew that and chose to ignore it. A power move that bounced off of him without effect.

“I prefer to stand, my Lords,” replied Cor in a flat voice and settled into parade rest at the end of the table.

The three Lords shared what they probably thought were inconspicuous glances beneath his flat stare as he waited for them to start this farce of a meeting. Regis probably didn't know about it, either.

“We know you are a busy man, Marshall, so we will try to make this quick,” said Lord Hypocris with a fake, placid smile.

The rake thin man was of lower rank than the other two, but quite clearly the one behind this meeting, if Cor was reading the atmosphere right. And he was seldom wrong on these things these days. With a slow and carefully calculated deliberateness the Lord leafed through a crisp stack of papers in front of him, the other two, sitting next to him, tried to look dignified and important. To Cor they all just looked like greedy toads, which was an insult to every toad in existence.

“Early this morning you returned from you patrol outside Insomnia with a group of poachers you apprehended and their... loot, shall we say. What can you tell us about them?”

Lord Hypocris looked at him with an expression so earnest and serious it couldn't be anything other than fake. Cor had known the noble for long enough to note that he tended to over-emote, when he either wanted something he thought valuable, or feared to lose a lot of money. Seeing who was in his company, it was probably a bit of both this time.

“A group of five, two female, three male; the youngest barely of legal age. I saved them from a pack of wild animals before I knew what they were. They were on their way to Lestallum to sell pelts and other parts of endangered animals. Four were injured during the attack, one life threatening, the other three only had a few scrapes and bruises. I screened their... wares and brought them back to Insomnia for medical attention and their punishment. If you read my preliminary report, you already know this.”

“Do I understand this correctly: You screened their stowage before you got the injured party medical attention?” asked Lord Hypocris, folding his thin fingers over the papers.

“Yes,” Cor answered plainly.

Lord Caulis wrinkled his nose in indignation. “We expected better, Marshall. How will this poor man be able to face his trail, if he is half dead?”

“As far as I'm aware, the poaching of animals is still fined with the loss of a hand, no exceptions.”

“That sentence hasn't been carried out in a century!” bristled Lord Sagitta. “We are no barbarians, like other elements within this city. And even then, this sentence only comes into effect when the animals in question are protected by the crown.”

“Ah, but three of the pelts were that of silver spotted coeurls,” Cor said and watched in satisfaction as all three Lords paled.

“That cannot be true,” stuttered Lord Hypocris.

His hands frantically leafed through his papers until he found a list. Brown eyes devoured it rapidly until they stilled. He grew, if possible, even paler and without a word slid the list over to his companions who were anxiously staring at him. Cor's lips twitched in satisfaction when he heard Lord Caulis' strangled gasp.

Clearly trying to gather his bearings, Lord Hypocris cleared his throat. “Then we need to decide what to do with the pelts.”

There was a greedy glint in all three men's eyes, Cor didn't like at all. A silent suspicion started to needle his mind, and it didn't paint a pretty picture.

“I have claimed all pelts and other parts belonging to coeurls as my battle-spoils. The paperwork for that has already been filed and approved of,” he said, silently daring them to object with his gaze.

The claiming of battle-spoils was an ancient practice that had survived until modern day, despite it now being highly regulated. It could only be done during active war, the claim must be uncontended by other participants of the battle and only members of nobility could claim battle-spoils in the first place. This was one of the very few times he was actually glad for the title Regis had practically shoved at him the moment her had been sitting on the throne. Not that he would ever tell him that.

Lord Sagitta's face grew a splotchy red in anger. He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly malapropos, but stopped himself at the warning glare of Lord Hypocris.

“If there is nothing else, my Lords, I need to return to my duties,” said Cor blandly.

“Of course, of course,” nodded Lord Caulis, obviously eager to see the Marshall gone. “Do not let us keep you. Thank you for answering our questions, Marshall.”

“I am always happy to do so,” Cor said as he bowed.

Everybody in the room knew that that was an obvious lie. No one said anything as the Marshall straightened again and left the room.

On the outside Cor was perfectly expressionless. On the inside however, he was seething. Who did those three bloated heads of impudence and self-importance think they were? He forced himself to take a calming breath and gritted his teeth as he entered the lift. He could think about the implications of those three being interested in exotic and rare furs later. Training was a very enticing thought right about now. The steady flow of the kata always helped him to clear his mind. And that was exactly what he needed.

His steps echoed in the mostly deserted hallways and he couldn't help the quiet sigh escaping him as the heavy door of the private training salle closed behind him. Right about now a red light would start glowing over the door to warn others away.

He moved through his warm ups diligently, but with purpose. Time. He needed time to process what had happened today.

A crystalline tinkle sounded as his blade appeared in his outstretched hands in a shower of blue sparks of magic. The action as comforting as it was helping him to ground himself in the moment. Cor took a centring breath and the next moment he was moving.

He had never intended to marry. Not necessarily because he had no desire to, but because he knew he was a difficult person to live with. No matter what Regis and Clarus said, he was self-aware enough to know that. But now...

Ulric's – Nyx' – gaze when he had taken the pelt, and later when they had talked, had stirred something in him. Something Cor couldn't name and didn't know what to do with. Infatuation perhaps? No that wasn't it.

His sword cut the air with the lethal whispers of a song as he performed a horizontal cut and transitioned seamlessly into a block.

Either way, no matter his feelings, he was engaged now to a man he could respect for his unquestioning loyalty and skill in a fight. He would pull the other man's files to learn more, but he knew that he had never left a comrade behind on the battlefield, alive or dead, if he could help it. An admirable trait, if foolish at times.

Cor had still no real idea what he had done to catch Nyx' eyes – it couldn't just be the pelt, right? A tiny part of himself couldn't help but be excited about it. For a long time he had tried to bridge the gap between the Galahdians – Galahkari, he needed to remember that – and the Lucians without much to show for it. But now he had an in to learn what they had been seemingly doing wrong for years on end. An anticipatory grin stretched over his face.

He would do this.

He would do this right and maybe get to hunt down some corrupt nobles in the meantime.

[midwinter-fox]

Acceptance

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Was it odd to fear another's fear? Dettlaff had this question in mind as he went days, then weeks, trying to avoid Leonore. He knew she made deliveries in the marketplace, so he took great care in staying away. Rejection was something he had been expecting from her, but after she had gone out of her way to try to get him to smile of all things, he now did what he could to deter her from trying to get close to him as she had.

Nothing good could come of it, he decided. While he could understand if she had simply no longer wanted to be near him, he didn't know what he would do if she came to fear what he was. As far as she knew, he was human, and he would do all he could to convince her to believe that. If she got too close, however, she would no doubt see him for what he was.

Humans were intolerant of those that didn't look or act like the rest of them, and it was this that further drove Dettlaff to avoid them if he could. It was human nature, along with lying. The mortal woman had shown him nothing but kindness, but it was because of this that he feared her reaction to the knowledge of what he was. Thus far, she had shown him a side to humanity that he'd previously thought them incapable of having; he'd be damned if he would give her a chance to prove him right all along.

It wasn't difficult avoiding a single human. Rather than venturing through the marketplace in his trek to the forest in which lay his kin, he took the side roads to reach his destination. He'd succeeded for well over a week, not having so much as caught a glimpse of her once. However, it could only go on that way for so long.

---

Regis was far more observant than his companion gave him credit for. Since Dettlaff returned home with a dark cloud over his head, he'd taken to carrying around what looked to be a plain white handkerchief. Sometimes he'd absently fiddle with it between his fingers, other times he'd simply grip it in his palm, but it was always done discreetly when he thought he wasn't being watched. What was unusual to Regis was that he never actually used the small square cloth - simply held on to it like some sort of token. He'd asked about it once only to have his friend go silent and solemn. After that, he dared not toy with it again, at least, not in his companion's presence.

At one point, Regis noticed it had a name engraved along the hem. He only managed to see the first half, 'Leo', but he only knew of one with such a name that carried kerchiefs. He knew Leonore to be a sweet woman; had something happened between her and the overtly emotional vampire who now sulked in his room? He'd spent two years trying to help his friend heal from Syanna's betrayal, so he would be damned if he was going to watch as another woman caused him further heartbreak. A plan formulated in his head, one that would help him get to the bottom of the mystery behind Dettlaff's misery. Suddenly, he found himself in need of a delivery.

---

For the first time in what felt to be an eternity, Dettlaff slept heavily. It was uncharacteristic of a vampire to do so - especially for himself since he suffered from insomnia and terrible nightmares of the past. Despite the sound of Regis moving about the house, he was able to force himself to relax and bury his head under the feather pillows to shield himself from the intruding sunlight. Was this what it was like to know true peace, or was he simply exhausted from so many sleepless nights? It wasn't a thought on which he deigned to linger, content to forget and relish in his luckily dreamless sleep for the first time in centuries.

It wasn't until there was a knock at his bedroom door that he stirred, though he did so begrudgingly. With a groan, he stood and stretched, then at the very least slipped on his trousers. It wouldn't have been the first time he walked about in the nude, but the sun was shining brightly to signify it being later in the day, and he would rather not risk someone walking in to search for Regis only to catch a glimpse of his bare body. Dettlaff rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he opened the door, but when he saw who stood on the other side, he slammed it back shut. Suddenly, he wasn't so tired.

---

Regis snorted at the stunned look on his friend's face when he finally opened the door, having definitely not expected to see Leonore standing beside him. While he had asked her to come by to deliver some supplies, he had to admit that he had ulterior motives. After learning from her what had happened the day Dettlaff began brooding more than usual, he considered the possibility that perhaps there was some form of connection between them. What that connection was, he was unsure, but it was worth it to see if she could get the sullen man to come out of his shell.

"I'm so sorry, I don't think he expected me to have company today," Regis apologized to the small woman beside him, though there wasn't a drop of sincerity in his tone. In fact, he was deeply amused. Leonore, on the other hand, covered her face to hide both her giggles and her blush, though she only had the one hand with which to do so - in the other was a small tin, undoubtedly a gift for the other vampire. When she finally looked back up from her cover, she had her lips pursed to contain her mirth.

"It's um.. it's quite alright. I don't think I expected to see him half naked, so we're both in a bit of a state."

With a chuckle, Regis again knocked on the door.

"Dettlaff? Are you dressed? You know, she's here to see you." That was only partially a lie. She hadn't expected to see Dettlaff at all, but when she was told that he was just in the other room, she seemed to become suddenly excited. It wasn't like Regis to use such secretive methods to learn what truly bothered his dear friend, but it was obvious he would get no answers from simply asking. Thus, he thought perhaps he could get his answers from the only human to try getting close to him since the loss of his Rhenawedd.

There was a rustling of fabric from the other side of the door, and after a few moments it opened to reveal Dettlaff in a more proper state of dress. Really, he only threw on his blouse from the night before and ran a comb through his unkempt curls, but he was at least more appropriate for company. His coat and boots remained abandoned on the floor, but just before finally opening the door, he remembered the kerchief on his nightstand. It was then tucked into the nightstand drawer so Leonore wouldn't see he still kept it.

Dettlaff was still a bit too flustered to say anything, so Regis did the talking.

"There you are. I apologize for the surprise, but Leonore came to deliver some ingredients and whatnot, so I thought perhaps you might like to catch up." Before Dettlaff could reply, he was interrupted. "Ah, but now I've much to put away, so I'll leave you two to chat."

With that, Regis turned and walked away, a light grin on his face as he set off to tend to his own matters. It was, admittedly, the first time he'd sought to cut his own dialogue short in favor of allowing Dettlaff a chance to speak for himself.

Dumbstruck, Dettlaff stood in the doorway, not sure exactly what to say or do. The last time he spoke with her, he'd abruptly pushed her away and left without explanation. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that she was looking for answers. Leonore's light laughter brought him out of his tumultuous train of thought, and when he finally looked at her she burst into giggles.

"What?" He asked almost incredulously. She was so bubbly it was starting to become concerning.

Without saying anything, she reached up to tuck a stray bit of hair back behind his ear. He hadn't noticed it was out of place, though he shouldn't be surprised what with his hair being difficult to tame without pomade right after he woke. Actually, what surprised him more was that he didn't feel so uneasy in her presence like he did when they first met. It was as though his apprehension was completely dissolved even though their last conversation had ended with him resolved to stay away from her.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't appreciate it when I laugh like that, but I really couldn't help it. Your hair is so much curlier than it looks when you're properly put together."

He knew this, and self-consciously smoothed any other stray hair back into its usual place. It was wrong of her to think he disliked her laugh though. Granted, when it was directed at him, he didn't appreciate it much, but for some reason he'd missed hearing her giggles. Odd as it was, Dettlaff forced himself to delete the thought from his mind. He was supposed to push her away, but here she was in the very house in which he made his home.

"It's.. Unruly after waking. I apologize, I wasn't made aware that you would be here." What did it matter whether she approved of his hair of all things? Why was she here in the first place, and why did he care?

Her soft smile alleviated some of his fears - she didn't seem to care how disheveled he looked at least.

"Then I should be the one to apologize. I can leave to let you sleep if you like, but I have something I wished to give you."

"That won't be necessary." No, no more gifts, no more of her kindness. She was persistent if she truly waited all this time to find him and give him another of her presents, but he couldn't accept it this time - not if he wanted to get rid of her. However, the longer he stayed away, the more he realized that perhaps he didn't truly wish to be rid of her. "I cannot accept anything more from you."

A silence fell between them, a bit of awkwardness rising as they both fought to find something, anything, to say. Rather than try to fill the silence, Leonore held up the tin she'd been holding, only just now bringing it to his attention. As much as he wanted to decline, she was very insistent about him taking it. If she was upset with him, she did a fantastic job of hiding it.

The tin itself was nothing remarkable save for a ribbon she'd tied around it to ensure it stayed closed. She did not move, watching him expectantly. Everything in his mind was telling him to turn her down, return the gift to her, and leave himself if she refused to do so. Logic, however, lost out to the heavy thumping in his chest that urged him to take it, take her, and revel in the kindness that she sought so eagerly to bestow upon him.

Tentatively, he undid the bow that held the ribbon together and allowed it to fall away into his hand. It was gripped tightly between his fingers as he removed the lid from the tin, an intoxicating aroma filling his nostrils when the contents were revealed. Small, heart-shaped cookies lay inside, lightly frosted and freshly baked. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Leonore took the moment from him.

"I know I made you uncomfortable the other day. I want to apologize, and I hope that this helps you to feel better. Regis told me you've been under the weather, and it pains me to know that I may be to blame for it. So please, if my being so forward upset you when last we spoke, know that it won't happen again. I miss your company, and I'd love nothing more than to be able to converse with you again."

Dettlaff's heart was thundering in his ears so loudly he was sure even she could hear it. What was she doing to him? Why was his body reacting so strongly to her words? Frozen, he stood and stared as though she'd suddenly revealed herself to be some grotesque monster. He didn't know what to do or say, but it seemed she took his silence as dismissal. The look of resigned sadness that crossed her fair face made the incessant beating of his heart stop so suddenly he thought he may very well have just died for a moment. Leonore turned away, her movements slow and solemn, but he finally reached out to stop her with a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

Hope seemed to shine in her eyes when she turned back, but he still could not find the proper words to convey both his gratitude and his conviction. Dare he allow her back into his life, just like that? Would he be so easily moved by her nice gestures as to let her get too close? Again, his heart won over his mind as he reflexively pulled her close. So long had he gone without such tender affection that now, he craved it like it would sustain him. When her arms wrapped about him in kind, his eyes closed as he let himself relish in the soft embrace.

---

Their embrace lasted for a while, though neither Dettlaff nor the small woman in his arms noticed until they heard Regis clearing his throat.

"I truly do hate to interrupt such a tender moment, but I wanted to make you aware that I'm expecting someone to be by for an appointment soon, and I know you've a fairly strong aversion to being present for such matters." His words were directed to Dettlaff who, though mildly irritated knowing that all of this was in no small way a result of Regis' plotting, was grateful of the warning.

Rather than voice his gratitude, he removed himself from Leonore's arms to take her by the hand and guide her away. A knowing look passed between the two vampires, an unspoken promise that they would be exchanging words later.

Dettlaff did not bother to finish dressing before leading the young woman out the back door of Regis' home. The herb garden outside would provide a better, more peaceful setting in which he could give Leonore the conversation she so desired. Her need for answers was palpable even to him. She didn't waste any time in voicing her concerns.

"Dettlaff..? May I ask what it was that I said or did that upset you so greatly the last time we spoke? I'd like to know what it was so I won't repeat my past mistakes."

If only she knew that it was no mistake. In fact, his response was solely his attempt to protect both of them from each other. However, he was unsure of how he could convey as much without revealing to her his inhuman nature. Thus, another revelation came to the forefront of his mind: if he was to keep her close, she had to know eventually, regardless of how apprehensive he was of her reaction.

"It.. It was no mistake on your part. The blame is entirely mine." He watched the confusion find a place in her expression, but he struggled to find the proper words for her. "I was not upset, merely.. conflicted. I've not allowed someone so close to me in a number of years, so forgive me for being overly cautious."

His words were vague only for the fact that anxiety started to well up in him at the prospect of what he was about to say, what he was about to reveal. He had grown far more fond of this woman than he'd intended, especially given she was a mortal - a being which he refused to trust for their natural flaws. Nothing could prepare him for this moment. It had been so much easier with Rhena; she had known what he was without his having to reveal anything to her.

Leonore watched him curiously as he took a moment to pace beside the beggartick bushes that grew in a row beside a bench alongside the house, his thoughts proving difficult to collect when all he wanted was to simply let it all out. Instead, he fought to find a way to speak without overwhelming her.

"Whatever it is, I promise I'll gauge my reaction. I can't swear that it will be a good reaction, but I will do what I can to spare your feelings." Her words were a great reassurance. She was honest with him, almost brutally so. It reminded him of Regis' words - that not all humans were dishonest and untrustworthy like Syanna had been. While still struggling to trust her, it was far easier to do so when she spoke candidly.

"I am not human."

That was the first step. Rather than revealing himself as what he truly was - a vampire - he would see how she responded to the more vague answer. A bit of relief washed over him when he wasn't met with the ever common racist beliefs that were prominent in human culture.

"Alright..? Well, I can't say I'm terribly surprised. You don't act human at least. What are you then? Your ears aren't pointed, and you're definitely no dwarf or halfling." Her words were purely curious, but it did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. Rather than further try to be purposefully vague, a tiring and senseless endeavor for him to say in the least, he came right out and said it.

When the words left his lips, a wave of different emotions crossed Leonore's features. There was confusion, made apparent by her furrowing brow, but then something akin to fear. Before his heart had a chance to break, she bombarded him with questions.

"A.. vampire?? But I thought they were myths? Devilishly handsome creatures of the night who hunted virgins and feared daylight? Though I daresay the handsome part is in no way inaccurate, you stand here in the sun without a care. So what is truly fact and what is myth?? I'm sorry, I'm incredibly confused."

Well, he knew that without her having to say as much, but now he was simply trying to keep up with her flurry of questions, only barely catching her confession as it flew past her lips. He had to admit though, this was a far better reaction than what he feared he would get initially.

"Some vampires do not care for sunlight, but I am what mortals call a 'higher' vampire. The lessers are much weaker than beings such as myself."

"So what of silver? Garlic? Holy water??"

"Hm.. Most are lies or misconceptions, some of which were spread by Regis--"

"Wait, you're telling me Regis is one too??" she interrupted, but Dettlaff patiently nodded. Answering questions was better than alleviating fears.

"Yes, he is."

"Amazing!"

For a moment, he thought he misheard her. Did she truly just tell him that the presence of vampires, most commonly referred to as monsters, in the otherwise quiet and safe little town was amazing?

"What..?"

"Amazing, simply and truly amazing! Here I am afraid I'd done something horribly wrong but you, you were trying to protect me, weren't you?"

Ah, so she saw right through him, he thought. Leonore was only partially correct, but she still seemed to catch on quickly.

"Yes," he admitted, to which he was suddenly met with a grin. Rather than him overwhelming her, she seemed to be doing so to him.

"I don't care who or what you are, Dettlaff. You've only ever been kind to me, if not aloof. I'll keep your nature to myself, but please, don't worry about me. If you meant me any harm, you could've easily hurt me long ago. I trust you."

The tin in which laid her gift to him was set aside on the bench amongst the flowering beggartick plants, though only so he wouldn't drop it when he grabbed and pulled Leonore to him in a crushing embrace. The gasp that left her made him release her for a moment, afraid he may have accidentally hurt her. His fear was immediately relieved when she threw her arms about him. She was simply surprised, but she wouldn't allow him to let go of her so easily now.

There was silence between them. She was so short compared to him that he had to stoop slightly to hold her like he so wished, but the feel of her arms about his shoulders and her face buried in his neck erased any feelings of discomfort. Instead, he took in her scent as his nose nestled against her soft brown hair, the smell of rose and lavender pervading his senses and bringing about a comfort in him that he'd been seeking for years. Tender emotions erupted in his chest, the most prominent of them being one he hadn't felt since confessing it to his Rhena so long ago. This time, he kept it to himself, not willing to ruin this moment with hasty words. He had known Leonore for a little over a few months now, longer than he'd known Rhena before he fell for her, but it wasn't something he was so willing to confess this time, not after the crushing heartbreak he'd experienced from the one person he'd cherished and adored more than anyone in his life.

No, this time he remained quiet, even when he felt Leonore press her soft lips to the tender skin of his neck. It sparked a desire in him, but all of these emotions he buried under his simple need to be held, so starved for affection was he after so long without it. Regret filled him when he finally released her, but she didn't seem ready to part with him yet neither.

"Please don't let go.. I've missed you terribly, and I don't want you to leave yet."

Without having to say a word, he removed her arms from him only to sit on the bench and bring her close again. She seated herself on his lap before consuming him in another hug, one he graciously accepted. They remained like this for a while, this time thankfully uninterrupted. When she pulled her face from his shoulder to kiss him tenderly, he accepted that too. It was a sweet, gentle kiss that he allowed her to lead, happiness settling in his heart and his stomach, partially filling a hole that had been dug only two short years ago.

Leonore's acceptance gave Dettlaff the tools he needed to finally let himself be happy again.

[captain-zajjy]

Solstice, Chapter 29 - A Final Fantasy XV Story

Pairing: Ignis x Female Original Character

AO3 | Chapter 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28

A/N: FINALLY hitting the character moment for Ignis that I envisioned when creating this story way back when. I hope it works for you :)

Ignis had wanted to prepare a large breakfast using a few things he’d been saving for a special occasion, but Valeria insisted he do not waste them on her father’s account. So, he served their usual morning meal of dry toast with the thinnest smear of berry preserves. Before Ignis could apologize for the paltry spread, Mr. Soleil smacked his lips and let out a long, contented sigh.

“That sure hit the spot.” He even sounded like he meant it.

“I- it did?” Ignis blurted out.

“Couldn’t even tell you the last time I had bread, to be honest,” Mr. Soleil said. “All they had at Galdin was fish, fish, and more fish.”

After finishing his own toast, Ignis immediately went to the refrigerator and replaced the fish filet he’d set out to thaw with what remained of a behemoth steak Gladio had brought him weeks ago. It was barely enough for two people, let alone three, but Ignis had high hopes that a bit of red meat, however small, would go a long way in impressing the man. Valeria might not have cared what her father thought, but he certainly did.

And so, when Valeria left the two of them to have her first shooting lesson with Prompto, and Mr. Soleil asked Ignis if he’d like to accompany him on a stroll around the market, Ignis was left with a dilemma.

He desperately wanted to show her father that he was capable, that he wasn’t a burden to whom Valeria had to constantly play nursemaid. On the other hand, Ignis still struggled with the cacophony of the market; he hadn’t gone by himself since Valeria had joined him in Lestallum. Have I become too dependent on her? Even if he could manage by himself, short of forcing the man to wear some sort of bell, it would be impossible for Ignis to keep track of Mr. Soleil in the crowd.

Putting his pride aside, Ignis nodded. “I shall join you.” He wanted to spend time with this man, the father of the woman he loved, get to know him and, Gods willing, obtain his approval.

Ignis donned his gloves and took up his cane, easily following behind Mr. Soleil in the familiar confines of the apartment building.

When the stink of the city streets assailed his nostrils, Ignis cleared his throat and stuck out his hand, moving it up Mr. Soleil’s back to grip his shoulder.

“If it’s not too much of a bother…”

He felt Mr. Soleil shrug in response. “Not using that shoulder for much, anyway.” His body was tense at first, as it always went with people guiding Ignis for the first time, but quickly relaxed when it became apparent that the only thing Ignis required of him was to proceed as he normally would.

“I can usually manage on my own,” Ignis heard himself say. “It’s just that with the crowds and maze of the market, it’s difficult to keep track of one’s companion, and I believe Valeria would be very cross with me if I lost her father on his second day, so I-” He knew he was babbling, and clamped his mouth shut. “I very much appreciate the assistance.”

Again, Mr. Soleil shrugged. “Not a problem, son.” Did he really not care? He certainly sounded indifferent, but Ignis felt that old specter of self-doubt rear its ugly head once more. Was he not thinking, ‘this is what my daughter has to put up with every day?’ Blast you, Ignis said to the intrusive thoughts.

“So tell me - how does a son of Tenebrae come to serve the Lucian crown?” Mr. Soleil asked as they set out down the street.

It was a question Ignis had been asked many times before. “I was a small child when I immigrated to Lucis,” he explained. “It’s the only home I’ve ever known.”

“So you got out of Tenebrae before the Niffs moved in, huh?”

Ignis nodded. “Had I not, I suspect I would have perished during the Empire’s Purges.” That had always struck him as the bitterest irony: he was alive today because his parents had died then, before the Empire had taken the country and eradicated the ruling class.

“Blue blood, eh?” Mr. Soleil asked.

“A minor noble house,” Ignis admitted. “And now, a nonexistent one, since the Empire abolished all titles and seized all holdings.” He knew he ought to feel some kind of sadness when speaking of the fate of the country where he was born, but, in truth, he felt very little. His uncle had said nothing when the news broke back on that fateful day over a decade ago, but had appeared ashen-faced, cleaning their already-tidy apartment in an aimless, mechanical way, like the walking dead. Ignis had not been able to understand, not until another fateful day in the near-past, when Insomnia was taken.

“Damn,” Mr. Soleil muttered. “They even killed the kids?”

“Root and stem.” There was a logic in that - cold and cruel, as logic often was - and part of Ignis loathed himself for being able to see it.

“Did you like your job?”

Such a simple question, and yet it nearly knocked Ignis off his feet. Did I... like it? It was his duty; his personal feelings were irrelevant. And yet, here was someone asking, by all appearances in earnest.

“It...it was my whole world. For better or for worse.” Ignis knew that wasn’t an answer, but it was the best he could come up with.

Of course he liked it. Everytime Noctis asked for his counsel and heeded it, he liked it. Every time King Regis had favored him with an approving nod for a task completed, he liked it. Every time he did something that, in its own small, insignificant way benefited the people of Lucis, he liked it.

And he loathed it. Noct’s apartment covered in trash, the calls just as he’d finally settled into bed, the disparaging looks from the Lucian uppercrust at the foreigner who’d been chosen over their own flesh and blood to serve the Prince. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer that last one any longer.

“Never been one to hold down a job for long, myself,” Mr. Soleil said. “I know, I know - try to contain your surprise.” Now that they were in the thick of the market, he frequently stopped and paused, humming tunelessly to himself.

“May I ask what you’re shopping for?” Ignis asked.

“You can, but I ain’t gonna tell ya. It’s a surprise.”

Ignis frowned. “I believe Valeria will be rather vexed by a ‘surprise.’”

“Oh, yeah,” Mr. Soleil replied, flippant. “And this way, you can tell her you didn’t know anything about it.” He clapped Ignis on the back. “Just looking out for you, son. I know she can be nasty when she’s mad.”

Well, yes . Ignis knew better than to agree with him out loud.

“Still, not half as bad as her mother,” Mr. Soleil added offhandedly with a low whistle. “That woman, Gods rest her soul, could punch you in the gut, then kick you in the balls with a single sentence.”

Ignis lowered his voice. “You have my condolences on your loss.”

“We all lost something that day.” Ignis surmised that, glib as he was, Mr. Soleil’s former wife was an understandably sensitive subject.

“Indeed.” We all lost something....starting with our innocence.

“You’re probably wondering how someone like her ended up with someone like me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to pry…” But, yes. Ignis had wondered that from the moment he’d met the man all those years ago.

“Yeah, me too, kid. Me too. Ol’ Viv sure was a piece of work. Ambitious, smart as a whip - I didn’t mind living in her shadow - that was alright.” He cleared his throat. “Once the company started getting real big she changed - or maybe that was who she really was all along. Hell, I don’t know. I just couldn’t take being treated like one of her damn employees, you know? But, she was the mother of my child. And for that, Vivienne will always be important to me.”

Mr. Soleil stopped abruptly. “Ohh,” he said. “Here’s what I’m talking about.” Ignis sidled alongside the older man as he chatted with the vendor, trying to make himself less obtrusive to the aimless throng of passers-by. He didn’t think many people actually did much shopping anymore - the market was simply a place to go, to idle away the hours until one’s next paltry meal, to stave off the overwhelming sense of loneliness and hopelessness that pervaded the city’s population.

“Barter only,” the vendor said off to Ignis’s left, as something metallic clinked on the counter. “Don’t have any use for money these days.”

“A wise man,” Mr. Soleil crooned. “But this isn’t gil. This here’s ancient Solheim money, genuine, one hundred percent silver.”

“Don’t have much use for silver either.”

“Oh, but you will!” Mr. Soleil’s voice radiated confidence, assurance. “Silver’s an investment in your future. When all this is over, who knows what the gil will be worth, if anything. But silver? Always worth something! Way more than just these few things here.”

Ignis heard something rattle as it slid across the counter.

“Hmm…” the vendor responded.

“Alright, alright. You’ve got me.” Another coin clinked as it was set down. “Double or nothing.”

“Fine,” the vendor relented. Ignis tried not to chuckle at how thoroughly the man had been foxed.

“Thanks for doing business, my man.” There was the rustling sound of a paper bag, and then Mr. Soleil gave Ignis a nudge. Ignis placed his hand back on the man’s shoulder and they continued on their way.

“A silver tongue runs in the family, I see,” Ignis mused.

“Heh, well...I ain’t good at much - or anything, really. Just talking to people.”

“An extremely valuable skill, under any circumstances.”

“Eh. I guess.” Mr. Soleil paused. “Hey. Isn’t that my daughter’s necklace?”

“Oh.” Ignis resisted the urge to bring his hand up to the chain around his throat. “Well, I...she, er, gave it to me.”

“Ohhh.” The sing-songy way Mr. Soleil crooned reminded Ignis of Prompto. At least he isn’t angry. “You two go way back, then?”

“Since the Academy. First year.”

“That’s a good thing to have these days. Someone you know you can trust, that ain’t gonna go up and bonkers on you.”

“Indeed.” Ignis nodded, ruminating on just how fortunate he’d been in that regard. Not only did he have Valeria, but the Amicitias, Prompto, the Marshal - all people he’d known for years, people whose intentions he never had to second-guess.

With his shopping concluded, Ignis took Mr. Soleil to pick up his ration vouchers, explaining how Valeria had played a pivotal role in establishing the food bank that now fed the entire city. On the way home, they stopped somewhere - Ignis wasn’t entirely sure where, exactly - to sit on a curb and ‘people watch,’ which seemed like it would be terribly depressing, but since Mr. Soleil was apparently quite keen on it, Ignis went along.

Since he obviously could not watch the passersby, Ignis instead worked on drumming up the bravery to ask a very important question.

“Sir, I…” Ignis plucked at his collar, nerves suddenly causing his stomach to churn. “I would like to ask your permission to court your daughter.”

Mr. Soleil let out a hearty guffaw, and Ignis’s dark thoughts immediately began to swirl. Is that really such a laughable request? Have I read him all wrong?

“Damn, kid. You really are old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“Er-”

Mr. Soleil clapped a hand on Ignis’s shoulder. “Here’s some advice - typically, you wanna ask that question before sharing a bed with the lady in question.” Ignis felt his face flush hot, stammering out something that was half-apology and half-explanation, making very little sense.

“You’re both adults,” Mr. Soleil went on, still chuckling. “Only person’s permission you need is hers. Besides, it ain’t like she ever cared what I thought before.”

“I care,” Ignis asserted, despite his embarrassment. He knew her mother never would have approved, and even less so now. But there was still hope for her father.

Mr. Soleil’s laughter tapered off into a lengthy silence. “Huh,” he finally said, sounding more surprised than amused. “You sure are an odd one. But if you want my blessing or whatever, then okay. I know people, and I can tell you’re one of the good ones. Odd, but good.”

Ignis felt relief flooding his limbs and warmth filling his chest. Good. A good person . He’d never really thought of himself as such; he was just someone who had the fortune to serve good masters.

“Er...thank you, sir. Thank you.”

Although Valeria had serious reservations about leaving Ignis alone with her father, it wasn’t in her nature to break off an appointment at the last minute, especially when Prompto had so generously offered his time and expertise, asking for nothing in return. Before leaving, Ignis had reminded her that he was able to advocate for himself - his very polite way of telling her to back off.

Valeria sighed as she made her way to the high school. What was the worst her father could really do to Ignis? Make a cruel joke at his expense? Maybe she was just projecting her own fears onto him. Because her father had hurt her, cut her down to the core, and he could absolutely do it again - if she let him. I’m not a little girl anymore, she reminded herself. I don’t need him anymore. What a lie that was.

Fortunately, Prompto provided a welcome distraction. “No Iggy?” he asked after greeting her.

“He’s entertaining a guest,” she replied, praying Prompto didn’t nose into the matter further. He whistled, but let it go, and she followed him to the school’s gymnasium.

“Got the place to ourselves for the next hour,” he said. Toward the back of the large room, a human-sized target had been strung up on a crude pulley system between the basketball hoops. Upon further inspection, she saw that the target was a photograph of an older man, blown up to life-size, its subject sporting auburn hair, a striped scarf, and a sickeningly smug grin.

“Ardyn,” Prompto explained, his usual sunny disposition suddenly uncharacteristically dark.

It took Valiera a moment to place the name. “The Imperial Chancellor.”

“Uh-huh.” Prompto had turned his attention to loading his special rubber bullets into a small revolver.

She turned back to the photo. “This guy is the Chancellor? He looks like a bum.” He wasn’t wearing a uniform, not even a badge of office.

“He is a bum. And a lot of other words Iggy says I shouldn’t say in front of a lady. So-” Prompto handed her the gun, then took a step behind her. “Put a couple between his eyes for me, will you?”

Valeria turned the weapon over in her hands and exhaled deeply, trying to recall what she’d been taught back in high school. Target shooting, along with archery and fencing, had been part of the physical education curriculum, not to train future soldiers or even for self-defense, but because, for Insomnia’s elite, such things were - or had been - considered leisure activities, sport, a way to pass the hours when you had no real obligations on your time.

She raised the gun, both hands on the grip, and took aim at the Chancellor’s forehead. After taking a few moments to calm herself, she squeezed the trigger. The noise and the recoil startled her, jerking her arms backward. After composing herself, Valeria turned toward the target, noting a small hole along the man’s hairline. Okay, not exactly between the eyes.

Valeria shook her head, let her heart rate come down, this time aiming lower. By the time the six rounds were spent, she had decent grouping in the target’s face.

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” Prompto handed her six more rounds, which she loaded much slower and more clumsily than he had. When she looked up, Prompto was behind her near the basketball hoop, tugging on a string.

“How about a moving target?” The cut out of the Chancellor danced along the rope as Prompto pulled it. Oh Gods …

Valeria tried to track the movement with the barrel of the gun, but her first two shots missed the target entirely. Then she tried leading it, but went too far, ending up with only two of the six shots hitting the Chancellor at all - in the side of his arm.

“Well, you winged him.” Prompto gave her an encouraging smile and handed over more rounds. They repeated this until his supply of rubber bullets was spent, and Valeria stared at the target in frustration as Prompto gathered up the spent casings and rounds to be reused. In all of that shooting, she’d hit the target in the chest exactly once, and the majority of her shots had missed it entirely.

“I’m terrible at this,” she said with disgust. There were few things she hated more than failure.

“What?” Prompto said. “It was your first time!”

“Yeah.” Valeria gestured at the target. “And I’m terrible.”

“Oh, come on. Nobody’s good at stuff their first time.”

I am, she thought. And if I’m not, I don’t do it again.

“You’re too tense.” Prompto pointed at the target, encouraging her to take aim with the unloaded gun. “See, your shoulders are up at your ears. Just relax.”

“How am I supposed to relax if this thing were trying to kill me?”

Prompto chuckled. “Just like Iggy. Overthinking everything. You just gotta keep practicing.”

Valeria handed the gun back over with a deep frown. “Thanks, Prompto. Sorry I’m such a crappy pupil.”

“Bah.” Prompto threw up his hands. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Hey, you wanna see something cool I’ve been working on?”

“Okay,” she said slowly, wondering just what she might be getting herself into.

Prompto led her to a small classroom on the second floor. Most of the student desks had been removed or pushed aside, the teacher’s desk and floor were littered with an assortment of wires and electronics.

“Just gimme a sec to get it set up.” As Prompto scuttled about, Valeria turned toward the front of the classroom. Someone (likely Prompto) had drawn a chocobo pecking at a stick figure whose hair was reminiscent of Prince Noctis on the chalkboard.

Next to that was a bulletin board, the border of which was decorated with a colorful pattern made from layered construction paper and a various shapes of a hole punch. If something had been hanging there before, Prompto must’ve taken it down, and replaced it with photos that had to have been taken while he and the others had been on the road for Prince Noctis’s wedding.

Some were posed, many were candid, and Valeria was struck by just how content they all looked in one another’s company. A shot of all four of them with their car at Hammerhead Garage, Gladio leaning on Noctis outside of a diner, Ignis sitting by a campfire drinking his coffee. She knew that while these photos were taken she had been stuck in Insomnia, frightened and hurt, still reeling from the loss of her mother, but Valeria didn’t begrudge them their tranquility here. She was glad Ignis and the others had been able to have this time and these experiences together, knowing what misery the world had in store for them later.

“Those were the best times of my life,” Prompto said, standing next to her, looking at his photos with a faraway smile. “Sometimes I still can’t believe they let me tag along.”

Valeria tore her gaze away from the photo of Ignis and turned to him. “Is that why you joined the Crownsguard? Adventure?”

“Nah,” Prompto replied. “Noct’s my best friend. A job that’s basically just hanging out with him all the time? It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t.”

“It must be hard for you now.”

Prompto shrugged. “He’s gonna come back. Until then…” He gestured at the photographs. “And I’ve started tinkering with things to keep myself busy. Check this out.”

Prompto had cleared the teacher’s desk, leaving only two rectangular lights the size of her fist, crudely linked together with electrical tape, wires spilling out the back and hooked to a pair of large batteries.

“Are those...flashes? Like, for a camera?”

“Yup!” Prompto replied. “Studio grade. Super bright. My first idea was to convert them to something like a flashlight, but it drained the battery way too fast. So, I slowed down the timing on the flash so that it fires for a couple of seconds, instead of like, half of one. It still needs some tuning, but right now I can get about five shots out of one battery.”

“Huh.” Valeria took a closer look at the device. “For daemons?”

“Yep. Got the idea after we fought that monster one back at the Fort. A few seconds of light probably won’t kill the big guys, but it should mess ‘em up pretty good.”

Valeria imagined it was similar to dousing someone in boiling water - even if it cooled right away, the damage was already done. “So, you won’t have to be Gladiolus to finish them off.”

Prompto snapped his fingers. “Exactly. Here, let me show you.” She joined Prompto behind the desk, and he leaned forward to flip the switch. “Uh, you might want to cover your eyes.”

“Then how can I see how it works?”

“Just sayin.” With one hand over his eyes - and his face turned away - he flipped the switch. The room instantly filled with brilliant white light, so bright she felt it searing through her eyes and right into her brain. Valeria shrieked and brought her hands up to her face, but it was too late. Her vision swam with white and yellow and violet starbursts, her head throbbed, and she clung to the desk to keep herself upright.

“Gods, Prompto!”

“I warned you!” he said. “But...it’s pretty cool, right?”

Valeria rubbed at her eyes. Splotches of the classroom began to return here and there, but her vision still swam with the blinding light. “I think that ought to do it. Stars above,” she muttered. She was still seeing them. “Don’t you think you should have safety glasses or something if you’re going to work on this stuff?”

“What, like goggles?”

Valeria sighed, wiping her watering eyes. “Goggles, sure. They make them like normal glasses too - or, they used to anyway. You seriously work on electronics without any safety gear?”

“I like to wing it,” he replied with a grin. How are you even still alive ? “I think I might have put some gloves or something in the desk.”

Shaking her head, Valeria began to rifle through the drawers. She found a large amount of school supplies - markers, glue, paper punches in various shapes - and eventually pulled out a clunky pair of clear goggles missing the strap.

“I’ll take this stuff to the market,” she said, putting the things in her jacket pockets. “See if I can’t trade it for some actual safety gear.” Now that she was finally able to see clearly again, she favored Prompto with a smile. “This is a really good idea, Prompto.”

“Oh, well…” He rubbed a hand over his reddening neck. “Just messing around, really.”

“I’m serious. This can save lives. Just... don’t hurt yourself in the process, okay?”

Valeria returned home to find Ignis in the kitchen and her father in the window sill, the top half of his body concealed behind the blinds. Before she could even ask, Ignis greeted her.

“Welcome back, my dear. How was your lesson?”

“It was...not good,” she admitted, never taking her eyes from her father. The only thing worse than being bad at something was having to admit she was bad at something.

As Ignis began to offer some words of encouragement, her father chuckled and hopped out of the window. “So, what - you miss the target once or twice?”

“A lot more than twice. What the hell are you doing?”

“I asked several times,” Ignis said from the kitchen. “He wouldn’t say.”

“Yeah, so don’t yell at him.”

Valeria crossed her arms over her chest. “Just tell me.”

“This, pumpkin - this here is a gold mine.” Her father pulled up the blinds and lifted a terracotta pot almost reverently. A small lamp had been placed next to it on the sill, which she immediately identified as a UV lamp meant to mimic the lost light of the sun.

“A planter?” Valeria asked skeptically.

“Seeds.” Her father poked his finger into the soft soil filling the pot. “Tobacco.”

“Tobacco?” She let out a noise of disgust. “Really, Dad? Not food?”

“Alas.” Ignis let out a crestfallen sigh. “What I wouldn’t give for some fresh herbs…”

“Not half as what the nicotine addicts will pay when the cigarettes run out,” her father quipped, a shit-eating grin on his face. Just another one of his idiotic schemes.

“Like you’re not going to keep it all for yourself,” Valeria muttered.

“Well…” Her father winked. “You never know. Might be room for another pot or two here, too. As you’ll see,” he made an exaggerated demonstrative gesture, “everything’s tucked away, nothing underfoot. You won’t even notice it’s here.”

Except for the ridiculously bright lamp, Valeria thought with a frown, although she knew her father wasn’t really referring to her. All the things he’d acquired, even the bag of potting soil, were gathered on the window sill, and the cord of the lamp had been taped against the wall - an eyesore, but not a tripping hazard, and that was all she really cared about.

With no real reason to chastise her father further, Valeria was forced to relent. After he finished raving about their afternoon meal, she told both men about Prompto’s invention - and his apparent lack of safety concerns. The three of them spent the rest of the evening listening to the radio; Valeria and Ignis were beyond sick of the reruns, but her father laughed at every joke.

That night, laying in bed, she shamelessly watched as Ignis undressed, feeling her pulse quicken as the broad muscles in his shoulders and back worked and rippled as he moved. She remembered back in high school when she’d first noticed his shoulders and chest getting wider, noticed just how much taller he was becoming relative to her, and the multitude of strange, confusing feelings that accompanied those observations, feelings she had kept deep inside for so long. And now, if it hadn’t been for her damned father, already sound asleep and snoring a few feet away on the couch, she could have acted upon those feelings at long last.

Valeria couldn’t help her disappointment when Ignis covered his bare torso with a thin undershirt and crawled into bed alongside her. Swallowing all those things down, as she had time and again, she rolled onto her side, facing Ignis as he laid down on his back.

“Okay,” she began, her voice low. “Tell me how it really was being stuck with him all day.”

Ignis’s lips parted in concern. “Your father,” he whispered. “He’s...he’s right there.”

“Can’t you hear him snoring? He’s not going to wake up unless we start shouting. Trust me.”

“I suppose ‘snoring’ is relative, but if you say so,” Ignis muttered. “It was a perfectly pleasant day. Truly.”

Valeria’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” She studied Ignis’s face, striped by soft orange light that filtered in through the slats in the blinds. He didn’t look like he was lying. “He didn’t call you names and do everything in his power to embarass you?”

“He can be a bit crass,” Ignis admitted. “But there’s no malice in it. Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”

Valeria frowned. “He left me. He abandoned me.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t made mistakes in the past,” Ignis said, shifting so that he could wrap an arm around her back. “But given all that’s happened in the last year, I consider it a small miracle not only that you’re both alive, but have managed to find one another here.”

Valeria bit her lip. She knew he was right. “It scares me,” she admitted.

Ignis reached out with his other hand to stroke her cheek. “Why?”

“Because he hurt me. And I...if I let him in, what if he does it again?”

Ignis let out a knowing sigh and pulled her close. “You are strong. I suspect you can handle just about anything this world will throw at you. I admit I don’t know him well, but I believe he cares for you. I really do.” Valeria felt her lip begin to tremble and buried her face into Ignis’s neck. “Oh… Have I upset you?” He ran his fingers through her hair.

“It’s just a lot,” she said, managing to keep herself from crying. Valeria didn’t even fully understand all the overwhelming emotional baggage that accompanied the topic of her father, let alone possess the ability to articulate it. “I…” She’d already forced herself to face daemons - was her father really so frightening? “Okay, Iggy. I’ll try. But old habits might be kind of hard to break.”

“Ah,” he said after planting a soft kiss on her temple. “They really are, aren’t they? Even so, I’d daresay that if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Valeria snorted. “I think your opinion of me is a little inflated, but thanks.”

Ignis smiled as they fell silent, appreciating the quiet comfort of each other’s company. After a while, he spoke. “Am I really your boyfriend now?”

Valeria couldn’t help but laugh. “That didn’t get past you, huh?”

“Few things do,” he replied with a smirk.

“Well…” Valeria nuzzled her head into his chest. “Of course you are - if you want to be. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Perhaps such an admission should have been accompanied by embarrassment, or apprehension that her feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, but for Valeria, it was simply stating a fact. There was nothing to fear, because she knew Ignis felt the same. She turned her head to see him swallowing hard, adam’s apple bobbing at his throat.

“That is…” Ignis’s voice was trembling, and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. The last thing she had expected was to distress him.

Valeria propped herself up on an elbow to get a better look at his face. “What is it?”

“I…” Ignis cleared his throat. “I never thought I was someone who could be loved.” Valeria began to speak, but he shook his head, so she let him continue. “All these years, I contented myself with being needed. I… I thought that would be enough. It would have to be enough, because I-” His voice broke.

“Oh, Iggy…” Valeria wrapped her arms around him, planting kisses along his scarred cheek. “You are loved - not just by me. Gladio, Prompto, Prince Noctis - they’re your friends. They don’t just need you; they love you. We all love you.” Different kinds of love, but one was no less valuable than another.

“When I was injured, my friends, they… I was helpless. I could do nothing for them, but they stood by me.” A tear formed in the corner of his right eye, and Valeria wiped it away with her index finger. “When they wanted me to stay behind - and I know it was only out of concern for my well-being - I couldn’t bear it. I knew it was foolish, and it was dangerous, but it was as if all my fears were being realized: I was useless, no longer needed. The only value I saw in myself was in what I could do for others. If I was needed, then at least I...I wouldn’t be alone. ”

Looking at the man now, Valeria could see the boy who still lived buried deep inside, small and frightened and solitary, and her heart broke for that child who had lost his parents and his home, thrust into a strange new city filled with unfamiliar faces. Even if her mother had sometimes made it feel like her love was conditional, even if her father had made it seem like his love was only available when it was convenient for him, Valeria still knew her parents cared. They were still there, in her life, even if it wasn’t always when and how she wanted them to be.

Ignis might not have had that as a child, but he had a family now. Her, and the Amicitias, Prompto and Talcott, and of course, Prince Noctis.

“You’re not useless, Iggy. I need you,” she whispered, rubbing his cheek. “I need you, and I love you.”

“You don’t need me,” Ignis said, sounding almost pleased. “If something were to happen to me, you might grieve, but you would get by. You could take care of yourself. You wouldn’t end up taking ill from the mound of trash accumulating in your living room.”

In spite of the seriousness of the conversation, Valeria giggled.

“That was only half a joke,” Ignis went on. “There was a time - a long time - when, if I didn’t do Noct’s chores, they simply wouldn’t get done. And I suppose I encouraged that, enabled his laziness in a way, to ensure that he continued to need me.”

“But he’s your friend.” Ignis’s hairstyle had begun to come undone, and Valeria pushed away the stray locks that had fallen forward into his face. “You don’t have to do anything like that so that he’ll keep you around.”

Ignis’s lips quirked upward in a smile, a smile that was tinged with sadness. “I- Yes. I understand that now. It certainly took me a while, but I understand, and I want to show him that when he returns. I want to thank him for being my friend.”

“I’m sure he knows.”

“And you.” Ignis turned his head toward her, his hazy right eye looking through her, into the darkness only he could see. “Thank you. Thank you. For loving me, and for showing me that I am someone worthy of love.”

Now she was crying. Despite her best efforts to keep them contained, the tears began to fall. Ignis held her and kissed her softly on the mouth, and for this moment, at least inside the space of their narrow little bed, it felt like everything was finally as it should be and all was right with the world. Like all the terrible things that she’d seen and felt were somehow alright, because they’d led her to this time and place, in the arms of the man she adored.

“When this is all over,” Ignis said, wiping the moisture from Valeria’s cheeks. “Well, I hope you haven’t grown tired of me by then.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“It is my job - my duty - to advise the King of Lucis. Not to do his laundry. Anyone can do those mundane chores.” Ignis paused for a moment before continuing. “He will be surrounded by sycophants and people trying to further their own interest. What Noct will require isn’t a servant, but a friend, with whom he can speak plainly, and trust to tell him the truth, to keep him grounded. Which is all to say, I will no longer be working sixteen hours a day. Of course, if you still want to-”

“No,” Valeria said quickly, grinning from ear to ear. “That was a life someone else wanted for me. I want to help rebuild Lucis, but I want to be with you, too. And since everyone else seems to be able to balance work with their personal lives, I think we’ll be able to figure it out.”

Ignis was smiling as broadly as she was. “Yes. Yes, indeed.”

[myselfinserts]

Don’t be so dramatic…

Regi remained quiet during the tour. No one, not even Madame Rosine, had expected a personal invitation to be given a tour of their headquarters from Anton Perun of all people. So of course, no one declined. Most of the group seemed extremely excited, whispering among themselves trying to figure out why this had happened now. Madame managed to rework their schedule to fit the tour into their already packed weekend, and thus the plans were set for them to tour it that Saturday afternoon. It felt like a dream.

A dream Regi tried to bring back to reality as he remembered where they were.

The building was enormous, with at least thirty floors above ground and, if what Madame was saying was to be believed, about ten floors below. Though those floors were off limits, since that was where the confidential projects were handled. The inside was sleek and well lit, looking almost like the setting of a science fiction novel. The windows were crystal clear. And the floor was polished to a shine. The staff were all dressed in similar clothing; white button ups with Perun’s mark on them, a lab coat, trousers, and boots. Some had goggles on their heads, while others kept their gear on belts. Occasionally as they passed, they’d see large screens on the walls that would alternate between fine artwork, photographs, and reminders for the staff. What seemed to be the most surprising was the fact that the cafeteria, or rather food court, was its own entire floor, and there were three levels dedicated to just medical emergencies.

At least no one can accuse Perun of not being thorough.

The tour guide, a researcher by the name of Caelum who wore a strange looking watch, lead them to the top floor. It was just an entire hallway with glass walls showing two rooms on either side,  filled with items in protective cases and retired hero suit designs on replica mannequins of the heroes who sported them. A museum of the history of one of the world’s current top dogs in support.

Interestingly, it was also the only floor without any visible windows.

“And this is, for lack of better words, the company artifact storage.” Caelum nodded to the side where the costumes were. “Here we have replicas of some of the famous costumes our design teams have worked on. We also have designs that ended up never being used, but we keep on hand for inspiration. I’m sure you’ll recognize some of our more popular works. As for the other side we have props resembling items the company has made over the last several decades, and once we’re given authorization to enter the rooms, you can all go up and read about them and see footage of them in action.”

One of the students (a stocky giant from London called Baxter if Regi remembered correctly) stared at Caelum with an incredulous look. “They’re not real items?”

Caelum chuckled. “No, they’re not. We wouldn’t just keep items like these in such an open space. This floor is just for tours like this, as well as a kind of pep talk spot for interns.” He briefly turned his attention to his earpiece, smiling excitedly. “Looks like we’ve been given the go ahead-”

Étienne stepped forward, his voice slightly hurried. “Sir, your watch!”

Regi glanced to Caelum’s wrist, eyes wide when he saw it start to spark and smoke. With a sharp pop, it shut down and fell to the ground in several pieces. “Holy shit.”

Caelum’s smile snapped to a look of terror as small blue hexagons started to grow on his face. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This isn’t good.”

“Come on.” Rosine hurried over to him, grabbing his arm tightly and dragging him back to the elevator. “We gotta get you to the med wing.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “All of you stay put. Gladstone, you’re in charge. Don’t let anyone touch the watch.”

“Y-yes, Madame,” Regi stammered. He reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the “evidence domes” Rosine usually carries, pressing the button on top and using it to cover the watch.

“He’s in charge?” Baxter scoffed. “Why the hell is he in charge? We don’t need babysitting.”

“Idiot.” Étienne leaned against one of the walls, arms crossed. “It’s pretty obvious why.”

Baxter’s face went red. “What did you say, Allard?”

“He’s the only one here with a hero license, asshole. I’m not too happy about this either, but it’s not exactly something that needs explaining. If that confuses you, perhaps you’re in the wrong field.” His eyes darted to the evidence dome. “Curious gadget...wonder why it broke.”

Despite him clearly wanting to argue further, Baxter dropped the issue, and everyone made themselves as comfortable as possible, pulling out their phones or tablets and finding time to occupy themselves until their teacher returned. Regi kept his attention everywhere, making sure no one snuck off and tried something. Though he didn’t think they would. None of these people would risk their potential careers like that. 

As Regi’s eyes darted about, he noticed an outfit not too far from their group that looked eerily familiar. It was a full body suit in a beautiful shade of white, with red, gold, and silver detailing. It was properly padded, sleek, and came with a matching set of gloves, boots, and a mask. What stood out about it though was the hooded poncho, which had intricately embroidered vines swirling around moons, stars, and suns. Regi could just make out the name on the plate on the podium in front of it. 

“Endymion’s Bloom.” Strange name, he thought. Looks almost like Amaryllis.

After about fourty minutes, everyone started to get annoyed. Regi decided to shoot a quick message to Rosine, hoping to get an answer fast. 

He didn’t expect one so soon. 

> Everyone’s still here. Is Mr. Caelum okay?

> He’ll be fine. His body is stable now, don’t worry. Is the watch still safe?

> Yes ma’am. What happened exactly. What was happening to Mr. Caelum?

> It was his quirk, and that’s all I’ll say on the matter. I’ll be back with a replacement tour guide in twenty minutes. Anton is pissed right now.

Perun heard about what happened? Oh god. This...this isn’t good. 

Regi was about to let the others know that Rosine would be back soon, when he felt someone grab him and turn him around. He glanced over his shoulder, blushing as he saw a girl about their age. She had lovely violet eyes, with long mauve hair folded into a perfect bun. Her dress was perfect shade of blue, with a couple of frills that made her look like a doll. 

“Quick,” she whispered. “Everyone come in and hide me. Now.”

The group looked at each other with anonyed glances before shrugging and scooching in. Not enough to touch, but enough that they were closer than they’d been the last hour. Regi was surprised. Either they all knew something he didn’t, or they were just that bored. He hoped it was the latter.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “Now, say nothing, okay?”

Regi raised an eyebrow. “What do you-”

The girl interrupted him. “Hush. He’ll find me otherwise.”

"Victoire! Where did you go?!"

"Sssh."

Regi felt his entire face burn as the young lady hid behind him. The rest of the students didn't seem to mind her antics, some to the point of ignoring her existence. A man in a suit headed toward them, not even noticing how everyone clustered together, hiding their new addition perfectly from him. 

"Have you seen a young lady come this way?" he asked. "Blue dress? Violet eyes? Long hair?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Regi squeaked. "I didn't see anyone like that."

The man sighed in exasperation, running past and hurrying down the hall. "Victoire!"

The girl waited until he was far gone before coming out of hiding, giving the students a polite curtsy. "Thank you for that. Papa thinks I need a handler while I'm wandering around the lab. He's overprotective."

Étienne rolled his eyes. "You should listen to him. This is no place for a child."

The girl gave a pout. "I'm an adult. A university student even. I'm no child."

"Could have fooled me. Only a child plays ridiculous games in such a place. Isn’t it past your nap time?"

Regi wanted to snap at him, but something in his gut made him stay quiet. The girl stared at him with intrigue. She almost seemed...he didn’t want to say impressed, but that was as close to the feeling Regi could read off her.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” she asked. 

“It’s not that hard to figure out,” Étienne grumbled. “I know who you are, and I don’t fucking care.”

“...interesting.” The girl smiled, holding out her hand to him. “What’s your name?”

“None of your business, that’s what it is.” He looked over at Regi, glaring. “How much longer are we going to be forced to wait?”

“Uh,” Regi stammered. “Madame said about twenty minutes. She’s getting a new tour guide.” 

Étienne rolled his eyes and walked over to the back of the group, where Sonya was standing. Regi let out a sigh. He hardly did or said anything all day. Even avoided his roommate when getting ready for the day. And yet, he felt like he still managed to piss him off. 

Still, he did speak up for me against Baxter. Kind of. That’s something, right?

Then again, I’m probably reading too much into it.

The girl sighed, hands on her hips as she turned her attention to the technonaut. “Is he always like that?”

“Uh...” He really didn’t want to answer that. 

“Figured.” She looked him over carefully. “You’re that hero that had the freak out on the news a while back, right?”

Just kill me. “I...I am.”

She nodded slowly. “I heard you were related to the case from papa. Something related to your parents. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Wait...how did you-”

“Oh, papa’s the designer for a couple of heroes on the case.”

Wait. Don’t tell me this girl is-

“Victoire!”

Everyone jumped to attention, lining up so that the girl was at the front of them as their teacher returned. Madame Rosine wasn’t alone though. Behind her was a group of security guards, all dressed in black. Beside her, a man in a lab coat, with light green hair and white crosses in his violet eyes where pupils should have been.

It was him. Anton Perun. 

And despite the neutral expression, you could tell, he was fuming. 

Rosine went over to the dome, removing it and gathering the evidence in a bag before handing it over to Perun. The designer nodded, slipping it into his pocket and then looking to the girl. “Victoire, get away from there. There’s a villain in that group.”

“Yes, papa.” 

Victoire hurried over and hid behind some of the security guards, her cheerful expression now tired and lonely. With a nod, a few of the guards escorted her away to the other elevator. 

Regi wasn’t sure why, but the scene hurt. 

One of their peers (what was his name again? Regi wondered. Nicole? I think?) raised his hand. “Pardon me, sir. But you said one of us is a villain?”

Perun nodded. “At least you would be, if Caelum wanted to press charges. He insisted that I don’t. Wants this whole situation to just fade into memory.” The crosses in his eyes spun a little, becoming X marks. “As I’m sure some of you guessed, that watch was an item of my own design to help with his quirk. And it should not have broken the way it did. Now...” He looked them all over carefully. “I want whoever it is to step forward and admit it. If you don’t in the next ten seconds, you’re not going to like what happens next.” His eyes returned to their normal crosses, and after ten seconds, he sighed. “Very well then. I didn’t want to have to do this.”

With a snap of his fingers, the guards marched towards the students slowly. 

Baxter was the first to break. “I bet it was Gladstone. Technopaths like him could break something like that easy.”

The color drained from Regi’s face. “But my quirk doesn’t work like that. I can only create-”

“How do we know that’s true though? I mean, you certainly have the anger to do it.”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t try to deny it. We all saw your freak out on the news.”

Some of the other students exchanged looks, but said nothing. Regi tried to remain calm, hoping that they didn’t believe the claim. He’d never do something like that, even if he had the power to do that. 

They don’t really think I’d do this, would they?

Rosine glared at Baxter. “I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Fielding.” 

One of the walls changed from the clear glass to a video screen, showing a video of the security footage with infrared signatures over it. Everyone watched as Baxter’s image waved a hand at his side. What seemed like a bolt of lightning shot out from it, hitting the watch in just the right spot to destroy it. 

Regi looked at him in shock. “What the hell was that?”

“His quirk,” Rosine answered. “Normally I’d wonder why you would do something like this, but I’m not interested in your excuses. You can consider this your last day as my student.”

Baxter lowered his head, scowling and radiating anger. But he remained silent as the guards separated him from the group. 

Perun looked to the students, a disinterested look on his face as security escorted their classmate out of the building. “I’m going to teach you all a very important lesson today, and I want you all to take it to heart.” He waited until they settled. “Now listen close, because I’m only going to say this once. Do you understand?”

The entire group nodded.

“Good.” He walked over to the screen on the wall, pressing a button that immediately changed the image from a list of that day’s projects, to one of just names. Regi felt his stomach lurch at the number of them. Row after row of blue shining names against a black background. Many of them were of heroes and fellow designers, but there were also a few recognizable turned-villains, a few less than reputable journalists known for sensationalizing lies, and even, to his surprise, the entire branch of a Hero Association. Beside each name was a photo of their face.

And Regi almost passed out when he saw Baxter Fielding appear at the bottom of the most empty column.

“Learn from your classmate’s mistake today,” Perun said. “As you climb this industry and make a name for yourselves, do not be afraid to blacklist certain unfavorable people. The higher you are, the more weight your words and thoughts will have. And as cruel as it is for some to say you’re currently on the bottom rung, I’m afraid I’ll be crueler and tell you all the truth. You all deserve that much.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re all not even on the ladder yet. Once you graduate, you’re on the bottom rung. Get that far, and you’ll have made it farther than most. Climb the ladder. Make your voice heard.” He pointed to the screen, his voice sending shivers up their spines. “And don’t be afraid to use it.”

Regi felt his heart sink. Everything felt heavy. Like he was drowning. One of their peers just had any chance of a career in the industry shattered and destroyed in seconds. The moment people found out he’s been blacklisted by Perun, he’ll be ruined. He’d be lucky to get a job in the mail room of a half-baked D-lister. He almost felt bad for Baxter. 

Almost.

And that scared Regi a hell of a lot more.

“Don’t be so dramatic. I thought cheap, theatrical threats were beneath the great Anton Perun.”

Everyone snapped their attention to Étienne, who had just as bored an expression as Perun. 

The designer raised an eyebrow. “They are. But I draw the line when someone actively harms one of my employees. And since he asked me not to press charges, this is the only way to handle the situation in the most appropriate manner. Do you not agree?”

“I do,” Étienne said. “However, given that we waited here for nearly an hour and still have other things to do, I’d much rather hear if your employee is fine, finish the damn tour, and then leave.” He smirked. “And I’m sure you would rather be either attending to your work or to your...employee.”

Perun let out a soft chuckle, looked to Rosine. “Ésme, keep an eye on this one. I get the feeling he’s going to be a little troublemaker once he gets on the ladder. I like troublemakers.” He turned around and started to leave. “I look forward to seeing more from your remaining students.”

Perun left them with a new tour guide, and soon they were allowed to properly explore the archive. Regi didn’t move though. His mind was still trying to process everything. 

Madame Rosine put a hand on his shoulder. “Gladstone? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he assured. “Just a little tired.”

“Are you sure?” she inssisted. “Regi, you’re looking pale. Are you sure you’re alright?”

No...no I’m not.

“...Is it alright if I be excused to go back to the hotel?”

“...Sure. Just message me when you get there.”

“Thank you, Madame.”

Without another word, Regi quietly left the building and started making his way back to the hotel. It was a long walk, and by the time the rest of the group were set to return, he’d probably be asleep. So he decided to take a moment to enjoy the fresh air, stopping to pick up a quick bite to eat on the way. Food, then a good sleep. That’s what he needed. 

A good...sleep...

“I fucking hate hotels. The bedlinens they use irritate my Quirk.”

I probably shouldn’t but...

Regi let out a groan and pulled out his phone, looking for the nearest shop that sold bedding. Once he found it, he made a mad dash for it, quickly running through every fabric available to try and figure out the best possible one to get. He ended up lying to a nice saleswoman and saying that the hotel sheets were giving him a rash, and she recommended a high thread count sateen set she herself used. It was a bit overpriced for his liking, but just by the touch, he felt it’d be much better to sleep in than whatever it was they were already using. It was also supposed to be warm, and the room they were in had a pretty bad draft. 

Yeah, these will work just fine. 

He bought the set, and quickly hurried back to the hotel. Luckily the others hadn’t gotten back yet, so he quickly set to work on changing out the bedding, starting to fold the hotel’s sheets before opting to just make himself a spot on the floor. 

“Done,” he sighed, finally managing a smile. He quickly shot a message to Rosine and proceeded to get ready for bed. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Regi went over to the door. He was sure it wasn’t his roommate. Allard had a key. He figured it might be housekeeping, or perhaps Madame if she just came back with the others. 

He opened the door.

“Hello-”

A sharp, stinging pain when through his head as a fist made contact with his face, knocking his glasses off him. He heard a sharp crunch of glass, and then felt another set of knuckles catch him in the left eye. Instinctively, he raised his leg and gave a hard kick, sending his assailant into the wall across from his door. 

Only after that did he see it was Baxter. 

“What the fuck?!” Regi coughed, leaning on the door for support. “First the watch now this? What the fuck is wrong with you?! What did I ever do to you people?! Haven’t you had enough after what you did at Perun’s?! Why would you even do something like that?!”

Baxter glared at him, staggering back to his feet. “I don’t have to explain anything to you, you fucking cheat.” He spat at his feet, hazel eyes burning with rage before fading to a dull, listless ember. “Figured since I had nothing left to lose, might as well get a hit in on the kid that’s been pissing me off the most all semester before I head home.” 

Regi wanted to get angry. He wanted to lung at him. Choke him. Scream at him. Hurt him until everything went numb. Instead, he picked up what he could of his broken glasses, looking at his former classmate one more time. There were so many things he wanted to say. 

Instead, he settled on the only thing that he knew would hurt the least.

“...I pity you.”

Without even waiting for a response, he closed the door. Regi waited there in silence, counting the seconds until he finally heard Baxter Fielding walking away from the door. Once he was certain he wouldn’t be coming back, he set his glasses down on the desk and went over to his first aid kit. But as he reached for the bottle of healing water, he stopped. They still had a day left of the trip, and he didn’t have much on him, and wouldn’t get more until he got back to the dorms. Using it to heal what would no doubt be a black eye in a few minutes seemed wasteful. Especially since he would be asleep soon anyway. 

If it’s not looking good in the morning, I’ll use it. Better to have it on hand in case of an emergency. 

Regi quickly got ready for bed, curling up in his spot on the floor and allowing himself to fade into the the void of rest. 

His last thought as he fell asleep was that tomorrow would be better. 

And if it isn’t, I’ll make it better myself.

[suzie81blog]

Last week was wonderful.

The Bloke and I watched Matilda on Monday night at Birmingham Hippodrome. I’d heard endless good things and was intrigued to see how it transferred to the stage, and in many ways it didn’t disappoint. The set was incredible, the songs and choreography were great and some of the actors in particular (Bruce Bogtrotter, Miss Trunchbull and Miss Honey) were fabulous. However, it wasn’t completely my thing – I’m an enormous RENT freak and the shows that I have enjoyed the most have much more of a rock inspired content (Rock of Ages being one of my favourites) and while the child actors were certainly talented, I found it difficult to totally understand their dialogue at times. There was also a technical hitch in the second half which caused the show to be suspended for a little while, so by the time it finished it felt excessively long. It’s certainly something that I’m glad we had the opportunity to watch, but probably not something that I would rush to see again.

I met one of my favourite people – blogger and author Shelley Wilson – for lunch on Tuesday. It turned out to be quite eventful. I managed to surpass myself by managing to miss four – yes, that’s FOUR – buses all at once, sweating profusely after breaking into a run, only to see all four buses that were waiting at the stop pull away at the same time. They made me run for nothing. Consequently, this made me fifteen minutes late and when I arrived I found Shelley being entertained by a rather talented accordion player outside Waterstones. I had predicted in advance that Shelley (as a book enthusiast) would take the opportunity to arrive early so she could go and buy some books and she didn’t let me down – greeting me with a hug while clutching a Waterstones bag containing numerous new purchases. After a healthy breakfast we went to Bacchus, where we spent hours talking, laughing and eating (I was on a cheat day) – I had a sausage sandwich, Shelley had a fish finger sandwich and we both had chips. Yum. As it had been a while since I had eaten anything unhealthy I may have been a little too enthusiastic about it, particularly when we were discussing Scott Eastwood’s performance in The Longest Ride and the resulting appreciative noise I made while I had a mouthful of sausage and chips was perhaps rather loud. I also managed to show her how much I was enjoying her company by accidentally launching a pint of cordial in her general direction, spilling it all over the table, floor and part of her seat.

  That’s the beauty of spending the day with me – I will turn up late, accidentally make completely inappropriate noises while eating and then throw my drink at you. I’m a good friend. 

On Friday I went dress shopping for a friend’s wedding the following day. I can’t remember the last time I wore a dress, but the weight loss had inspired me with the confidence to at least try some on. I ended up finding one in Jacques Vert, and it was beautiful. Unfortunately, with it being the hottest day of the year the changing rooms were hotter than Hades and so while the dress looked nice, the rest of me looked like I had just done a two hour hot yoga session. I felt a little guilty handing back all of the dresses that I had tried on to the assistants – ‘here, take the dresses back… you don’t mind that I have just sweat all over them, do you?’

The wedding on Saturday was beautiful. Held on the top floor of the Park Regis Hotel in the city, The Bloke and I watched as Marika and James said their vows with the view of the city skyline behind them. The bride was gorgeous, the bridesmaids were gorgeous, the venue was gorgeous… I had received an awesome surprise just before the ceremony started when my friend appeared after secretly traveling from Spain – nobody except the bride knew and The Bloke managed to capture my delighted expression when she walked through the door. We were joined by another one of our friends and spent the rest of the day and evening catching up, eating lovely food and dancing (until my trusty shoes decided to randomly fall apart). 

And to top it all off, the weather was amazing. Unfortunately, I think the heat may have broken the cat…

What an amazing week, filled with fun, friends, laughter and numerous memories to hold on to…

What about you guys? How has your week been?

A Wonderful Week and a Wedding Last week was wonderful. The Bloke and I watched Matilda on Monday night at Birmingham Hippodrome. I’d heard endless good things and was intrigued to see how it transferred to the stage, and in many ways it didn’t disappoint.

[hanzajesthanza]

regis didn’t die because “he got drunk,” he died because he abandoned his principles.

regis swearing at stygga and vowing to “fuck this castle up” is not only disturbing for what it is, and who he is, but also because of who he is in the company.

it truly is the “i’m a healer, but…” meme, because regis is the voice of reason, moderation, and logic, advising geralt away from hasty decisions. he’s a self-reported coward and afraid of violence, and you know, he’s the doctor.

it’s not just his abandonment of his principle to not drink, but the abandonment of ALL of his principles—patience, rationality, goodwill, optimism—is what kills him.

this discarding of principles happens in the scene where he returns to the rest of the company and sees milva’s dead body, where he says he feels such strength to fuck up this entire castle.

this hasty, violent cursing of his comes before the scene with vilgefortz—it foreshadows his death owing to his hasty, violent attack of vilgefortz. it didn’t just come out of nowhere that he made a terrible decision. (i mean, his first terrible decision was to follow geralt in the first place but, eh.)

it’s not just because “he had been drinking”—the drinking is more of a side effect rather than a cause... (and “one should treat the cause, and not its symptoms…”)

since, to our knowledge, he had one drink before returning to see milva dead, and during that time seemed to be, more or less, regis as he was—he even cracks jokes to ciri before he realizes, ‘wait, maybe i scared her’—it is when he returns and has seen, is processing, milva dead, that he makes this suspiciously unhinged, out of character statement about “i feel such strength inside me,” “i could fuck up this entire castle.”

sure, he could have had a couple more drinks between these two scenes that sapkowski did just not deign to write of, but even if he had been totally plastered, i don’t think that that solely is what causes his downfall, his out of character viciousness and hastiness. remember that alcoholism is an addiction, and addictions re-emerge when one is faced with despair, loss, grief… and hopelessness. (and with blood already on his lips from the laboratory, it became that much easier to give in when having to confront this tragedy—the coping mechanism was already right back in his hands)

the hopelessness of losing milva at the portico of stygga castle broke them all, before they even went inside. and this death broke regis as we knew him, as the company’s optimist.

seeing milva dead was the death of his principles, his virtues, what he worked so hard for such a long time to hold himself to. because these principles became as worthless as his surgeon’s tools—in this citadel of death, there’s nothing you can do to save life, to preserve it, as he had done prior:

after her miscarriage, although they stayed in the lyrian-rivian corps of meve for five or six days, they had deserted—and deserted the barber-surgeons in that corps—in less than a week. consider then that it became once again, regis��� responsibility, as the company’s barber-surgeon and sole healer, to care for milva as she recuperated.

though dandelion notes she did so quickly as she was a hale and strong woman and her troubles were mostly emotional, one must consider the responsibility that not only a friend feels for his friend’s life, but how a doctor feels for his patient’s life.

and how he feels when that life heals slowly, recuperates with difficulty, suffers more (broken ribs) but continues to heal under care, finally becomes strong again and, like her namesake, a bird, released with pride into the air—only to be shot down immediately, glassy-eyed in her own blood.

milva for regis was a symbol of preserving life (indeed, an interesting symbol, as she suffers miscarriage). and between them, it was also, of course, a complete inversion of the mythology surrounding vampires and pregnant women.

but at stygga, she dies so immediately, so violently:

… and from something… something as inconsequential as any old bit of wood…

what kind of cruelty is it for life to be ripped away so quickly, by something so small, with no chance of saving? of healing?

but it’s nothing, because this is stygga castle. where healing becomes unusable. useless.

so regis leaves his healing at the doorstep—literally, upon the portico, where milva’s body was dragged back to by geralt and cahir, bleeding out in a dark pool.

and along with healing… his patience, moderation, mercy, kindness, wisdom… all of his virtues.

their virtues. the company’s virtues. since regis embodied this rationalist and optimist side of the company, when he abandons these principles of his, the entire company loses them;

because now, there is no one to advise them to “proceed slowly and with due prudence.” now, there is no one to placatingly say, “come, come, let there be concord.” now, there is no one to say, “of course we can, it is simply a matter of invention and positive thinking!”

the voice of reason has left us, he flew off on bat’s wings without a murmur or a whistle. now the voice only says — “i will fuck up this entire castle.”

i don’t think at stygga, in this scene and the one with vilgefortz, we’re seeing just a “regis, but drunk”. it’s deeper than that… because it’s not just his sobriety he broke, he broke everything—broken and shattered, like the collection of glass vials and flasks he shattered in his dramatic entrance to vilgefortz’s laboratory, exploding, bursting one after another. and from this erupts a hellish inferno of corpse-blue flames.

it’s not just “regis, but drunk” it’s “regis, but without patience, wisdom, kindness… etc…”

that’s why he’s so unlike the regis we’ve come to know during the series, why he at stygga becomes so unrecognizable to the readers—because he’s thrown away all of his beloved virtues that he strived to embody. and because “everybody has their good points, to even out the vices,” he became unbalanced, with his vices leading him. namely, his hubris, which often came out in a much more modest way during the rest of the saga—in a scholarly and lecturing tone of voice—but at stygga, comes out as an arrogant threat that he and he alone can and will fuck up this entire castle, an overconfident leap at vilgefortz’s throat.

and in my interpretation, it’s also not accurate to look at it like “this was actually the true regis,” “this was regis underneath it all,” because it’s not “how he was back then,” it’s not like he went back in time to be his past self. it’s not a reverting.

it’s more like coming full circle, for it’s milva’s death which triggers him to discard his principles, and he only got to know milva through his upholding of these principles. his actions towards her (namely his midwifery) showcase some of the best of what he became, owing to these principles of his.

and her presence, or rather the loss of her, makes him realize that all of his goodness is in vain and will be of no help here. and that is when a great hopelessness consumes him, and he throws out his goodness with a cold clatter to the ground—what use was any of this, after all? i cannot save her with medicine, i cannot save her with my principles, it all turned out to be useless.

and we’ve seen something like this already in the saga—it’s much like when ciri is in the korath desert and begins to think, everyone has abandoned me, the morality and ethics they taught me are utterly useless. and it takes her being in korath for her to get there, to break her spirit. the seed of this may have been planted in her at cintra, but her contempt didn’t fully erupt until after she had tasted the love, mercy, and kindness of geralt and yennefer’s parentage and saving of her—and then was suddenly deprived of it.

similarly, regis had a terrible youth, and yes, when he’s giving up his principles here, he’s returning to a similar state—but it’s not the same as if he had never experienced the entire arc following his rebirth into human life. it’s not a return to his youth, it’s more like… hm… a mid-life crisis? hah…

a metaphor of day and night is apt!

he’s not “reverting” at stygga—it’s like how dawn and dusk, though they are at similar light levels, are not the same thing, because they have the entire daytime inbetween them!

the sun sets with his discarding of principles, and we return to night… a cold, sinister, menacing, darkness. back to the realm of the vampire, not the human:

because he, the company, is suddenly deprived of their archer, who, just remember, they worked so hard to save on the battle of the bridge, milva, whom regis rushed towards and carried on his back, staying with her during her miscarriage.

and now, she’s utterly dead in such a violent manner, and actually, the arrow pierced her lower abdomen, possibly where her womb would be: “struck [her] low in the belly (…) having shattered her pelvis (…)” for the ultimate symbolism for her character.

and suddenly with her death, regis realizes how useless he is, to them, here, as a surgeon. he cannot save milva now like he did under the bridge. he can’t help, save any of them. he’s powerless.

and if not a surgeon, their surgeon, who is he?

and if not wise, patient, cautious, kind, gentle? if not always knowing what to do, ‘in his infinite wisdom,’ in his ‘omniscience’? if not humanity? what is left of emiel regis? what is left?

blood.