#why would it be i always have to make my daemon aus require SO MUCH EXPLANATION....

[acaciapines]

staring at the nimona daemon au breaking 40k when i still have the entire ending of the movie left: oh my god. this one might be 50k after all

[xylune]

FFXV Ardyn fanfic

I’ve been replaying Final Fantasy XV since things have settled down and I’ve had the chance to get all the additions and episodes. An idea for a canonverse AU hit me last night and I started working on it this morning, but for some reason, I just had to start writing a scene that won’t happen until later in the story...if I maintain the inspiration enough to keep at it.

Quick explanation: This story will build off the “Dawn of the Future” book addition, taking place after those events. Ardyn is unwillingly revived and supremely unhappy about it. Noctis and company are left with little choice but to try and manage him, as he’s become virtually un-killable. Unfortunately, Ardyn is desperate to die and the choices are to either deliver further torment on the man or try and help him find a purpose in his endless existence.

Beneath the cut (provided it works as it should) is a sample of a scene in which Gladiolus and Prompto are trying to babysit Ardyn, and the situation is made worse when he believes he’s seen a ghost from his past.

"Hmm, first time here. Let's see what's on the menu."

Ardyn checked a sigh of impatience. His flat still awaited, but it was a good ways further into Lestallum and they had been driving all day without a bite to eat. Even he, who could not die, still suffered the pangs of hunger and thirst. Cruel twist, that. What purpose did it serve for an immortal to still require food and drink? It wasn't as though he could starve to death; he'd already tried that. Going without did make him sick and weak, though.

Ever polite even when killing someone, the former Chancellor gave an elegant shrug and flourished a wave of his hand. "By all means, after you."

Gladiolus waited for his smaller companion Prompto to pass through the door first, and then the big, tattooed warrior followed behind. Ardyn held the door open for them both, and then he joined them inside the building.

"Charming little place," he mused, casting a look around. "There, by the window. A perfect spot for us."

The pair looked, and Gladio nodded. "Yeah. Backs to the wall and we can see who comes in and out. Good call."

"Paranoid sort, aren't you?" Ardyn smirked at the black-haired kings guard. "I chose it for the aesthetic position, but you see—"

"I see what I've been trained to see for all these years," interrupted Gladiolus in a low, serious voice. "Don't act so surprised. You're a big part of the reason we all learned to do everything strategically, learned to treat every place we went as a potential ambush spot."

"Guys," interjected Prompto before Ardyn could respond, "who cares about that? We're here to feed our faces and get something hot and nice to drink. Come on, I'm fading fast, here."

Gladiolus kept his hard brown gaze locked with Ardyn's for a moment, and then he nodded. "Right. A meal, then Ardyn's old place, then a place to sleep for the night."

"That's a top plan," agreed Ardyn amicably. "I would offer my flat for the night, but the utilities, I'm sure, have been cut off by now. Not to mention, the place hasn't been given a proper cleaning since I was last there. Dust mites, you know."

"How do you even know it's still available?" asked Prompto as they claimed their table and sat down. "You've been gone for a really long time. They might have cleared it out and rented it to someone else by now."

Ardyn shook his head, removed his fedora and plucked up the menu sitting on the table before him. "I'm paid up for the better part of two years on rent. You see, I can be forgetful about some things, and while it's easy enough to get utilities turned back on if I'm away for too long, personal effects can be a bother to replace. The flat is mine until the end of the year."

"Huh." Gladiolus examined his own menu. "Why not just buy the place, if you had that kind of money?"

Ardyn's usual flair with speech dropped, leaving his tone flat and level. "Because I didn't intend to be here for longer than that."

The younger two men paused, and they exchanged a look with one another over the tops of their menus.

"Oh dear, have I made you uncomfortable?" Ardyn's smirk came back, though it lacked humor. "How tactless of me. Still, you asked."

"Enough talk of suicide and death," insisted Gladiolus.

"I don't believe either of those two words were—"

"Or insinuations of the subject," interrupted the black-haired man, his squared jaw tightening. "We've talked about this. Remember the agreement."

"Yes of course, but the point remains that I was asked a question, to which I merely answered with honesty." Ardyn turned to the freckled blond seated beside him. "True, Prompto?"

"Well, yeah. That's a pretty valid point."

"All right, whatever," huffed Gladiolus. "Let's just drop it and get on with the eating. I'm starving and we're burning what's left of our daylight."

Ardyn could have ordinarily thought up a few snappy quips in response to that, but the inadvertent turn of the subject matter, however brief, reminded him again of his misery. His thoughts twisted back into the same dismal questions he'd been asking himself since the day of his unwilling return to the flesh.

How was he to maintain what little he had left of his sanity, knowing he had endless days and nights ahead of him with no end or purpose in sight?

"Hmph. No rest for the wicked," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

Ardyn glanced sidelong over the top of his menu at Gladiolus, and then he pointedly focused on the text again. "Just thinking aloud, friend. Hmm, the Nebula Salmon Melt looks rather appetizing. I think I'll try that. What say you?"

Gladiolus scowled—not at Ardyn this time, but at the menu. "Everything looks pretentious to me. Iggy would love it."

"No meat and potato sub, then?"

"No cup o' noodles, either," added Prompto glibly.

Bless the speckled pistol specialist. Even though he clearly shared an understandable grudge and mistrust against Ardyn, Prompto's sociable nature compelled him to join in on some good-natured ribbing. Ardyn rather liked the lad for that.

"Knock it off," warned the big man. "Don't poke the bear when he's hungry, got it? I'm not in the mood."

"Yes, Prompto," Ardyn nudged the blond beside him with an elbow. "Do be careful. Now, Gladio—"

"I've told you not to call me that," reminded the kings guard with a frown. "Only friends and family are authorized to use the short version. You're neither. In fact, you're still at the top of my shit list, so cut the familiarity crap."

"Of course, Gladiolus," revised Ardyn politely. "I forget myself at times. Now, as I was saying, have you noticed the menu items on the other side? They have several items of a meatier variety."

Gladiolus flipped his menu over and looked. "Huh, you're right." He peered at the menu for a moment, and then he frowned, and he looked at Prompto. "What's 'prosciutto'?"

"Beats me, dude." The blond spread his hands helplessly. "I bet Noct or Specs would know, but I'm just as uncultured as you are. Ardyn, do you know?"

He did, but the older man's patience was quietly wearing thinner, and Gladiolus' rudeness wasn't helping. "It's meat."

Gladiolus' tiny smirk suggested that he was picking up on Ardyn's veiled frustration. "What kind of meat?"

"From a dead animal."

"No shit. What kind of animal? What part? Must be pretty special for such a fancy name."

Now Ardyn could feel his precious control slipping, and the daemons within him were trying to push to the surface. He spoke through his teeth, with a smile. "Why, the most delectable of both. A human ass."

Prompto sputtered, coughed and put his camera away. "Okay guys, time out. Let's just ask a waitress before you two eat each other. Hey, I see one over there. She's cute, too! Not as cute as Cindy, but real pretty. Uh, actually, I'll just go straight to her and ask. Don't kill each other, okay?"

For a moment, gold-amber eyes remained locked with dusky brown ones. Gladiolus was the first to look away, and he covered up whatever disquiet he felt by turning his attention to their companion, who had left the table to speak with a server.

"Him and the blondes. He's got a real thing for them. She is cute, though."

Inwardly glad for the distraction from his own annoyance, Ardyn followed Gladiolas' gaze across the room, to the bar area. Prompto was chatting with a fetching young woman wearing a uniform apron over her clothes. No matter the horrors he'd seen or the darkness he lived in, Ardyn could still appreciate beauty in all its forms. Women were certainly no exception, so he examined her with as much interest as his companions.

She had her back turned to him at first, but he noted that she had a pleasing form with delicate curves. Small of build, of average height, she had her hair gathered into a ponytail at the base of her neck.

The color of her hair caught his attention the most, provoking a little pang of nostalgia within him. It was certainly blonde, as Gladiolus said, but it wasn't a yellow tone like Prompto's or a platinum shade like the queen's. Most would consider it an unremarkable color blonde, almost a neutral tone between white and yellow, pale and with just enough highlights to lend a faint touch of gold.

Ardyn knew this particular hair color well, for he'd run his fingers through strands of it just like that, many times in the distant past. He'd always compared it to pale wheat, and he'd always found it to be the most interesting variation of that hair shade. Even the density of the waitress's hair was the same, though the length was greater than the hair he'd once touched.

She then turned, and Ardyn Izunia was treated to the interesting experience of feeling his body go hot and cold all at once. He couldn't say it was a pleasant thing. He couldn't move, and his breath halted in his lungs, lodging somewhere in his throat on its way out.

Her face, sweetly, softly rounding a bit where the cheekbones met the jaw, softening her features there before tapering down to a gently curving chin.

Her brow, pale and fine like the hair on her head.

Her nose. Her lovely, pert and perfect nose.

Her lips, pouty with a slight upward curve at the corners, sweet and generous with both kisses and smiles.

Her eyes. Colors of blue and green, forest and sea harmonizing together, creating a beautiful, soulful color made even more expressive by the downward tilt of the outer eye corners. There was wisdom in those eyes, made ancient by an abiding love and devotion to the gods, and to the light. There was compassion there as well, and laughter.

A collection of words describing his dead betrothed kept spinning in Ardyn's head, and a part of him realized he had reduced this poor girl before him to a collection of body parts, comparing them to his lost love's bit by bit, because he simply could not believe what he was seeing.

Everything about her, every part of her, was an exact copy of the woman he would have married, had fate been more kind. Down to every detail, as far as he could tell from this distance. He had eyes like a hawk though, and he could even see that she had the exact same faint little freckles on her cheeks and nose, in the exact places he remembered them. He used to kiss them lovingly when they spent afternoons together, so he'd memorized them all.

Gladiolus was talking to him, in his rough voice. Ardyn could hear him, but it was faint as if coming from far away. There was a ringing in his ears, and it drowned out his companion's questions. For a moment, Ardyn wondered if he'd gone deaf, but then he heard the waitress's voice. Even that was identical to the one he remembered. She even had the same accent.

Every other voice and every other sound in the cafe faded into the background as the fallen healer focused on the sound of her voice.

"—cured ham," she was saying to Prompto, smiling. "It's quite popular. You can assure your friend that it doesn't come from a human's ass."

Prompto then pointed at the table they'd claimed, and Ardyn was overwhelmed with a sudden, immediate rush of panic as the waitress's gaze flicked to him. He quickly looked away, turning his head so hard that his neck popped in the process. He closed his eyes, willing himself to calmness.

He was imagining things. Seeing things that weren't there. It wouldn't be the first time. His beloved Aera couldn't possibly be there, serving sandwiches and coffee in a cafe. She was dead. Not only that, she was lost to him forever. When he'd let go after the defeat of Bahamut, thinking he could finally rest, he thought he was going to be with her. She wasn't there, though. There was only darkness, and then...he found himself in the flesh again, in pain, in Noctis' throne room.

He only got to see his beloved for a moment, and she wasn't there waiting for him like he'd thought. Perhaps he'd only hallucinated her after all, and they couldn't be together in any form because of the sins he'd committed.

She wasn't really here, in this establishment, offering sandwich advice. It wasn't possible.

"Hey, what's with you?"

For once, Gladiolus's aggressive barking was received with gratitude, because it startled Ardyn enough to anchor him back to reality...somewhat.

"So sorry," he managed to verbalize, "but I need fresh air. Be right back."

She was coming. He could feel her presence, hear her dainty steps like the thunder of an approaching storm. Ardyn Izunia abandoned all pretense of grace and manners, snatched up the fedora he'd set on the windowsill, crammed it on his head and made his egress as quickly as he could without using his warping abilities and causing a scene.

"What the hell did you say to him?" Prompto looked from Gladio to the door Ardyn had just vanished through.

"Nothing. He just spaced out all the sudden." Gladio was frowning, appearing just as lost as Prompto. "He looked like he saw a ghost or something, if you ask me. You went over there to talk to the waitress, and then he went still as a statue and turned about five shades whiter. All I did was ask if he was okay."

Prompto scratched his head, looking through the window and leaning a little to get a better view. "I see him. He's by the street lamp. He's just standing there with his hands in his coat pockets and his head down."

"Prompt, I swear I didn't do anything. We watched you talking to the waitress, and then he flipped."

Prompto combed his fingers through his spiky hair—or as much as he could before the stiffening product in his locks stopped him. "Damn. Well, who knows with him? Why was I the peacekeeper here, anyway? Ignis is better at this than me."

"Because Noct is stressed as hell and right now, he needs Ignis at his side as his advisor and his hand."

"I know, I know," sighed Prompto. "This is kind of a vacation from babysitting for him and Luna. I...I guess I'll go out and talk to him, see if I can figure out what's up before he blows a gasket. She's gonna come bring us some water in a sec, but if we're not back inside would you order the drinks?"

"Fine. What do you want?"

The blond shrugged his slim, bare shoulders. "Just the usual green soda. I don't know what Ardyn wants."

"He needs a tall glass of calm the fuck down," grumbled Gladio.

"I don't think they serve that here," Prompto answered dryly. "He said something about coffee earlier."

"The last thing that guy needs right now is caffeine."

Prompto threw his hands up. "Well, I don't know! Tea or something? He likes tea, right?"

"Guess it couldn't hurt. Go on; I'll hold the fort."

Ardyn had calmed himself enough to risk another look inside, but Prompto came out and tapped him on the shoulder just as he was about to try and confirm what he thought he'd seen. To his chagrin, the older man jumped a bit, and he turned to face Prompto with a frown.

"You, boy, should avoid sneaking up on me that way."

Truthfully, Prompto was no "boy" anymore. He and his friends were now nearly of an age with Ardyn. At least physically. He couldn't help but still think of them all as youths though, for compared to himself, virtually everyone alive on Eos was just a babe.

"Sorry, I was worried about you."

The casually and honestly worded response gave Ardyn pause. He knew the core of Prompto's concern was rooted in Noctis' expectations of him, naturally. Prompto's concern was more in letting his friend and king down than any true care for Ardyn's well-being, but it was nice to hear someone say that without hesitation, all the same.

"You saw her too, didn't you?" He was hardly aware of what he was saying. The words spilled out without conscious thought, but Ardyn realized that he did need confirmation from someone.

"Saw who?"

"The girl."

Prompto blinked, and there was a rumble of thunder overhead. He glanced up at the sky briefly, then flinched when a drop of rain landed on his nose. "There were a few girls in there, man. Can you be more specific?"

Growing more agitated, Ardyn grabbed Pronto by the shoulders. "The girl. The one you were speaking to."

Prompto's hand inched toward the holster where he kept his gun, but he didn't draw it. He regarded the ancient warily, his fair brows hedging with alarm. "Whoa, slow down. Do you mean the waitress?"

Aware that he'd just inadvertently made Prompto feel threatened, Ardyn relaxed his hold, though he didn't release it. "Aye, the waitress. Blonde, fair of skin, eyes like the color of a lagoon. Voice like bells."

"Um...okay. Your speech has ah...really gone old school all the sudden. And that's a pretty intense description..."

"Just answer me!"

Prompto nodded convulsively. "Yeah, yeah! Of course I saw her, dude. I was the one that pointed her out in the first place!"

"So...she's real. She's really here."

The smaller man's eyes were almost bugging out now. "Well I sure as shit hope so, because otherwise I was standing there talking to thin air about human ass sandwiches."

If he weren't so bewildered, Ardyn would have laughed uproariously over that. Under current circumstances though, his sense of humor was crippled. Nonetheless, he tried to at least put on a facade of calm for the sake of his companion. He removed his hands from Prompto's shoulders, taking a step back to give the other man space.

"Ah, well. Begging your pardon, friend. I was merely...startled. She looks very much like someone I once knew, and well...this is rather embarrassing, but I feared for a moment that I was hallucinating. Hence my asking you those odd questions."

Prompto's "fight or flight" stance relaxed a bit, and he shifted from foot to foot. "Oh. Yeah, I can see where you're coming from. I mean, after what you've...well, it's okay."

Prompto gave the taller man an awkward pat on the shoulder. "She's real, you're not seeing things and the rain is starting to come down. Let's go back inside for some chow, okay?"

"Splendid. Do let's. After you."

Ardyn tugged his hat brim down a little lower, waited for his companion to go back in, and then peeked through the window furtively. The rain was coming down faster now, streaking the glass and spoiling his view. He couldn't see the waitress, but she was in there.

"Pull it together," he whispered to himself.

The girl was real, and she definitely shared some traits with his lost love, but surely his mind had tricked him earlier. He saw through the eyes of a grieving heart, and he was clinically insane. He could make it through a quick meal without going completely off hinge...he hoped.

[hoidn]

tagged by @oykamu but i originally nabbed it from @sarking.

all these answers come with the caveat that there are certainly exceptions to most of them and i may have even written those exceptions. if anyone wants to play along, do eet.

→ Slow burn or love at first sight?: however, there's slow burn and then there's dragging it out pointlessly. i say no to the latter.

→ Fake dating or secretly dating: fake dating with elements of mutual pining, yes.

→ “Oh no, there’s only one bed” or and long distance correspondence: these are not mutually exclusive and therefore i choose both. there are precious few believable ways that "there's only one bed" would happen in Georgian/Regency/Victorian times, so there go several of my fandoms, which hardly seems fair.

→ Hurt/comfort or amnesia: with the caveat that i prefer emotional hurt/comfort or hurt that's mostly comfort. also, i'm borrowing @sarking's assertion that amnesia is a sub-genre of h/c because therefore i get both and good god almighty do i love amnesia fic.

→ Enemies to lovers or best friends to lovers: they can be enemies to friends to lovers, but i'm not particularly interested in reading about people who don't (eventually) love each other in some fashion. (although i’ve written it.)

→ Mutual pining or and domestic bliss: pining that leads to domestic bliss, yes, because these aren’t mutually exclusive, either. i usually like my pining to be oblivious, or at least uncertain, for actual believable reasons rather than just flimsy plot devices. i love a character’s transition from yearning for someone they think they'll never be with, and then the tremulous joy in finding their feelings reciprocated. look, i imprinted on anne shirley/gilbert blythe at a very young age. blame l.m. montgomery.

→ Smut or and fluff: again, not mutually exclusive. i like both, separately and together.

→ Fantasy au or modern au: i'm not into magical creatures, per se (though i like greek mythology type stuff). having said that, i do like magic as a normal in-universe aspect and for some reason i am a sucker for harry potter fusions, despite having zero interest in the novels themselves. i also love daemon AUs? however, as far as wider fandom is concerned, fantasy seems to mostly mean 'creatures' and i prefer my characters to remain human. (although there's one mmfr fic i really like in which furiosa stumbles into a magical curse and spends most of the fic as a cat, so there's another exception.)

→ Alternative universe or future fic: AU because technically future fic can be considered AU and therefore i can have my cake and eat it.

→ Kid fic or road trip fic: no kid fic. unless the kid is canon, which is rare, but still, i don't want it to be the focus of the fic. (having said that, one of my WIPs features an original child character and i just don't even know who i am anymore.)

→ Canon compliant/missing scenes or fix-it: this is so haaaaaaaaaard because i adore interstitial fic. but, ultimately, i want my characters to be happy (or at least happier than they are in canon) and that usually requires fixing.

→ Reincarnation or character death: NOBODY DIES. or if they do it’s temporary and they are always meant to be together in every universe la la la i can’t hear you and your earth logic.

→ Time travel or isolated together: i'm not super into time travel unless it's a 'go back in time to fix things' type of thing. and characters being isolated together is just delicious.

→ High school romance or middle aged romance: HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME CHOOSE??? i love high school AUs. but there’s a lot more scope in middle-aged romance.

→ Arranged marriage or accidental marriage: accidental marriage scenarios tend to be predicated either on people being so drunk they're incompetent, or being part of something when they’re unaware of its meaning/significance. and since no one can be reasonably expected to fulfil a contract that they don’t know enough about to enter into in the first place, the whole premise is basically invalid. arranged marriage stories offer so many more options because it’s a circumstance from which the characters can’t be extricated (or at least not easily). it’s the legally binding equivalent of ‘isolated together’, except that instead of a location it’s a social institution.

→ Sci-fi AU or magic au: see, i don't know why you can't have both. you can have magic in sci-fi. and SPAAAAAAACE. i love all my space fandoms and i want all my fandoms in space. 

→ Neighbours or roommates: i... don't care? in fact, i don't think i've ever actually read a fic in which either of these circumstances occurred.

→ Body swap or gender-bend: i really don't like body swap so i have to go with gender-bend, though honestly i'm usually too much of a canon purist to like gender bending either. i can only think of two exceptions, both P&P.

→ Angst or crack: seconding @sarking's answer: "I’m generally only into crack if it’s taken seriously." ditto. and i enjoy angst as long as it's not the unrelenting sort. i need at least a hint of light on the horizon.

→ Apocalyptic or mundane: augh, i love apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic stories so much, but i have to go with mundane because, again, there's a lot more scope.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

Oh you read Indexing? I adore it, so so many good things, fun characters and original thoughts and so many perspectives on tales and cool powers, but my favourite is nature of Snow Whites, a sacrifice to retrieve Sun, and whiteout wood.

@thornhands asked:

Starlight, please elucidate to tumblr(me) your feeling about Indexing. (It rocks, I love it, I want a paper copy SO BADLY)

@figmentera asked:

ok i've only read the first one and my feelings about it are mostly actually about the self-indulgent AU revolving around my own OCs but: Hell yeah Indexing! A Very Solid concept! I am here to talk about it!

MMMM OKAY

First and foremost, let’s talk about how unbelievably CHOICE Indexing is as an AU setting.  Daemon AUs are so 2016, in 2019 we’re all about placing characters on the ATI spectrum.  Ask Me About Indexing AUs.  I Have Many.  (I have one that I came up with for Vox Machina of Critical Role and I have confirmed that this is the best of AU settings.)  

Anyway, you wanted some Indexing feelings, and true to form these are not OVERWHELMINGLY coherent but damn I sure do feel them.

WE ARE ABOUT TO DO SPOILERS BECAUSE I AM VERY HYPE ABOUT THESE BOOKS

First of all, I love Henry so very overwhelmingly much.  @seananmcguire always writes heroines who hit me right where I live and Henry, fierce angry Henry who has fought her entire life not to be what she is and then embraces it with open arms to save everyone she loves, is no exception.  The grim hard gladness she feels when the whiteout wood calls Gerry her brother in the second book is everything to me--Henry’s not grateful to the wood, because that would imply that she needs to be grateful for such a basic requirement, but she’s glad, even though Gerry being her brother is what trapped her alone in this story.  And that dichotomy.  The dichotomy of “I am bitterly angry, sometimes, to be alone in this story, but I would never, ever change it,” the dichotomy of “Sloane tried to poison me today and I will hug her until we both believe she’s going to be all right”, the dichotomy of “I’ve embraced my inner Snow White and now I am going to use it to sing every animal in a mile radius into this house to die horribly for me and my friends,” that’s my SHIT.  Henry is seven layers of Stubborn And Angry around a core of pure steel love for her people, and holy shit is it my favorite kind of character.

Second of all, I wouldn’t be surprised if I read Indexing now, but Indexing was the first Seanan book I ever read, and the frank and direct way that Gerry’s story is handled just.  It’s so good, guys, it’s so good.  It shocked and delighted me so much.  It’s THE question I always think of when people do fairy tale mashups--what if the story says you’re one gender, and you’re another.  Because, sure, maybe some roles don’t care about gender, but The Kind Sister And The Wicked Sister?  Hansel And Gretel?  Diamonds And Toads?  Snow White And Rose Red?  Those are gender locked!  It matters that the people involved are sisters, or brother and sister, or whatever, and I always get wary when authors try to do trans people in that situation.  And Gerry is just...I love it.  He’s Henry’s brother, and therefore he cannot be her Rose Red, and even when she’s alone and scared in her own story, she fights tooth and nail to keep him from being drawn back into it, because goddamnit he deserves to be her brother.

Third of all, Sloane.  Oh, Sloane, how I love thee.  The Wicked Stepsister who wasn’t, the Wicked Stepsister who won’t, the Wicked Stepsister who ran her story into the ground and kept running for centuries and never, ever took the easy way out.  She’s rude and snappish and probably shops at Hot Topic and she named her bird Lovecraft.  I love how angry she is.  I love how justified she is in her anger.  I love that, if she twists hard enough on the narrative, she can wear the scraps of someone else’s story, like a stolen and tattered ballgown, or a bloodstained slipper.  I love that she spends a week knocking poisoned coffee out of Henry’s hands and cries on Henry’s shoulder out of fear of her story and lets Henry drag her to a therapist, and I love the exchange she and Henry have every time she brings Henry an apple.  Some variant on “Did you poison this?”//”Does it matter?”  It’s so good.

Fourth of all, Demi and Andy and Jeff, Henry’s family, I love them.  Her adopted baby sister and her big cheerful lug of a brother and her shoemaker-who-isn’t-a-prince.  God.  Fuck me up with that found family shit, Seanan, fuck me ALL the way up.  I love that Jeff loves Henry, I love that Henry loves him, I love that we get to see their love go from “I like him, I think” to “oh no I think I love him” to “I am going to do this dumb shit because if I can’t wake up Jeff can just give me true love’s kiss and we’ll be golden.”  I have talked before about how Seanan’s two crowning strengths, in my humble opinion, are her masterful grasp of how to write a romance that feels real and tender and joyful, and her liberal stance on how much found family is “enough.”  (More.  The answer is always More.  Seanan is one of like eight authors I can think of who really sate my endless hunger for found family.  They have fucking family breakfast with everyone plus Gerry, I’m melting.  You melted me, Seanan.)

Finally, can we just pour one the FUCK out for one of very few authentically Good twisted fairy tale stories?  “Twisted modern fairy tale” does not mean grimdark and honestly I’m just so spiritually exhausted by everyone who believes it does.  THIS is what I’m fucking looking for.  I’m looking for “skin white as snow is pretty upsetting, actually” and “being a shoemaker’s elf makes me weirdly good at paperwork but also incredibly insomniac” and “I get my paycheck first so I don’t go full Hamelin and pipe this whole office into the nearest river.”  I want to talk about how Pied Pipers are all about temptation and that makes them susceptible to stories about temptation and they get in over their heads fast because of it!  I want to talk about how being a Wicked Stepsister comes fully equipped with an encyclopedic knowledge of poisons!  I want to talk about how Disney fucked with the narrative, and how bluebirds beat themselves to death on windows trying to wake up princesses, and how to rules-lawyer the narrative into doing what it wants you to!  Fuck!  

....writing this list of what I’m into, in Good And Well Executed Twisted Modern Fairy Tales, has suddenly clarified for me why I keep watching like one and a half seasons of Once Upon A Time and then going and rereading Indexing.

INDEXING IS A GREAT BOOK AND I WILL YELL UNTIL EVERYONE AGREES WITH ME.  MS SEANAN MCGUIRE IF YOU’RE READING THIS YOU DID SUCH GOOD WORK ON THIS.

[kaioken16]

Tales of Skaia (Preview)

This is a preview chapter for an upcoming story, I'm working on. A fantasy based AU heavily inspired by the story elements of the Seven Deadly Sins, and Fairy Tail. 

For example, Dave and Karkat being actual knights, using magic, going on adventures, missions etc.

The extract below features the morning training routine between my OC (Zack) and Karkat. I'm going to full the story soon, but I would appreciate some feedback on the chapter, constructive criticism is always welcome on how I can improve, I'll posting in other sites too to get feedback from other people, and at the end of the month, I'll be posting the first official chapter, and I'll be commissioning some art to go along with this story.

I've also attached a Google Doc link in the traditional HS text font and colors for Zack and Karkat's lines if you'd like to read that.

Word count: 2401 Rating: Mature (mild violence, fantasy, blood.) Characters: Karkat Vantas, OC, Dave Strider (Mentioned briefly)

Karkat was sprawled over his bed, his blanket partially covering him. Snoring loudly, a trail of drool running from his mouth onto his pillow. The shutter was closed keeping out any annoying sunlight that would’ve disturbed his sleep, but of course, there would be other things that could wake him up… In the distance, the sound of footsteps approaching his room. A gentle knock against his door, which made him move around slightly. Then slowly his door opened, a creaking noise from the wood moving.

Standing in the doorway was Zack, fully dressed in his armor, minus his helmet, the sound of his metal clinking with each movement as he approached Karkat. It was a little funny to see how the troll slept, but of course, they were on a deadline. The older knight then brought his fingers to his mouth without warning a loud high pitch whistling filled the room. “AHHH!” Karkat jumped out of his sleep, then screaming at the sight of Zack, falling out of the bed. Like a frightened animal, he was looking around before he remembered where he was. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” He shouted looking at Zack, seething with his usual rage, jumping back up to his feet. “WHY? YOU COULDN’T FUCKING WAKE ME UP NORMALLY?!” Karkat roared out while Zack just grinned. “Come on, get dressed. It’s a new day and we’ve got training to do.” Zack said not even answering Karkat’s question which further vexed him. “What’s the time right now?” Karkat asked, rubbing his eyes as he looked around, as Zack went over to the shutters, opening them to let the sunlight in. “Just after a little sunrise.” He spoke in his usual upbeat manner, hearing how early it was just made Karkat groan out in annoyance. “Now, nothing too strenuous. Just a little hike through the forest, some swordplay, some magic training, and a cold waterfall shower.” He smiled, Karkat, however, glared at him in silent rage. “Sounds delightful. I can’t WAIT.” Karkat sharply said, bearing his teeth. As frustrating as this was, this is what he asked for after all.

Karkat Vantas. A young warrior-in-training from the troll clan. He left his home in order to become a knight and to seek out adventure, and become a stronger warrior. He had joined a rag-tag group of knights, but he was still a rookie compared to them. A desire to get stronger, he was sent to train with Zack Daemon, His superior within the group and now his new teacher. For the next month or so, the pair would be training in isolation away from their comrades until Karkat was at a higher level with his combat and his magic. He especially wanted to get stronger so he could knock Strider off his feet. A little later Karkat was dressed in his training gear, a small bag with a few supplies. Throwing it over his shoulder, this was the small cabin that he and Zack were staying for the duration of his training, it was located at the base of the mountains, surrounded by forest going on for miles. Many beasts, dangerous wildlife, and treacherous terrain made it the perfect place to train. Today marked 4 days since they had been here. Of course, it took some time for Karkat to adjust, he still was. He no longer had any of the comforts that made his life easy. But Zack was fair too. He didn’t overwork Karkat, he wasn’t cruel, he was firm but kind. “Alright, we’re all set. Let’s go.” Zack said, opening the front door and stepping outside, taking a deep breath and sighing, that fresh forest air always smelled good. Karkat just mumbled something under his breath, following after Zack, shutting the door behind him. Karkat yawned out, while Zack just grinned at him, running on the spot before taking off into the woods. Karkat shook his head to the sides, before running after Zack. It was an upward slope to their destination, and it was gonna be a thirty-minute hike, and then another thirty minutes back down. Karkat was trailing behind Zack, the other was wearing heavier gear and yet he always managed to stay ahead of him. Halfway up the path, Karkat was starting to get breathless, he was mentally telling himself to ignore it and keep going. Finally, they reached their destination. A large clearing, with a small waterfall pouring into the lake. At the center, there was no grass, just the soil. Karkat was at last able to crash on the ground, catching his breath. He threw the bag off his back, Zack did the same, performing some stretching poses. Karkat got back to his feet and mimicked Zack’s actions. “Okay, we’ll start with combat first. Then some magic practice. After that, we’ll head back for breakfast.” Zack smiling softly. “You ready?” Asking the troll, who nodded getting back to his feet. Karkat raised his hands up, making fists and making a stance. Zack smirking got into an identical stance. Karkat suddenly rushed towards the human, swinging his fists with Zack blocking or countering his blows. Karkat gritting his teeth, tried to punch Zack in the face, the other evading him, Zack then grabbing Karkat’s arm, holding it tight as he threw him over his shoulder, making Karkat hit the ground hard. Immediately becoming more frustrated, Karkat attempted to kick the other, but Zack caught his leg. Now holding onto two of his limbs, Zack threw him across the clearing, he watched the troll roll across the grass. Karkat managed to stagger back to his feet. Bearing his teeth towards the smirking Zack, clenching his fist anger, hitting the ground. The troll’s eyes suddenly flickered a bright red. The same color of aura manifested in his palms, and in a flash of light in his hands were now a pair of sickle blades. Zack raised one of his eyebrows, an impressed look on his face. Karkat charged at the other, dragging one of his sickles across the ground. Zack then held his arm up in a defensive manner, a yellow aura gathering around his wrist, with Karkat closing in. “Too slow!” Karkat yelled slashing upwards at Zack, at that moment the light-gathering around Zack formed a circular shield that blocked Karkat’s attack. “Predictable.” Zack simply said in a taunting manner which made the other growl and snarl at him. “You could’ve struck from behind or the sides and you might’ve hit me.” He lectured Karkat and began striking at Zack’s shield with both sickles. “Thanks for the tip!” Karkat spoke in a sarcastic manner. Zack sighing quietly as a light materialized in his free hand, shaping into a blade, a long rapier appeared in his grip.

Using his shield, he knocked Karkat back a few feet, then with a forward advance his blade slashed against Karkat’s cheek. He hissed at the small cut, blood running down the side of his face. Zack wastes no time unleashing a barrage of strikes, with Karkat countering with his sickles. Sparks flying each time their metals clashed. Karkat was on the defense, he was gonna wait for the opening to strike. But that was easier said than done. The other was able to make several cuts all over the troll, which only further infuriated Karkat.   Roaring with rage, that same glow filled his eyes, bringing his sickles together. In a bright red and black flash, his twin sickles became a long scythe, the handle was black with red glowing marks pulsating. Zack’s expression changed to a more serious one, all of a sudden, he made his sword and shield vanish in a flash. The knight then moved with blinding speed, closing the distance between him and Karkat. Before the troll could even strike, Zack grabbed a hold of the scythe, holding the blade against Karkat’s throat. “Stop. You’re not ready to use this weapon form…” Zack’s voice was stern, his eyes glaring into Karkat’s. Gritting his teeth, sweat running down his forehead. He kept the cold metallic of his own blade on his neck. “O-Okay… Fine. Take it easy will ya…” Karkat raised his hands up in surrender. Zack stared at him for a moment. Sighing again, he squeezed the handle of Karkat’s scythe until it shattered into a light, fading away. “You already know how much magic power it takes to wield your second form. You haven’t mastered it, and it drains you completely of energy.” Zack lectured the other, gently knocking his forehead. “Yeah, yeah. I know until I can control it, the second form: scythe is off-limits.” Karkat had heard this all before, and of course, he knew he couldn’t use his second weapon configuration until he wasn’t physically and magically stronger to handle its power. “However, being able to transform it and maintain its form. You’re improving.” Zack wore a small smile, messing up Karkat’s hair. This made the other push Zack’s hand away.

“Improving is all good, but I need to get stronger so I can use the second form for more than just a few minutes.” Karkat examined his palm with his eyes, a serious look in his eyes. Slowly he tightened it into a fist. “More time is required. The more battle experience you have, the better chance you have of getting stronger.” Placing his hand on Karkat’s shoulder, smiling. Zack reassured the other that improvement would lead to the desired results. “Being patient is important too.” That is something Zack would always say to Karkat, being patience and progressing at a normal pace. “I have faith in you, and your skills.” He added. “Alright, let’s continue.” Zack took a few steps back from the other, raising his arms. “Hand-to-Hand combat for now.” “Okay. But you take the first move.” Karkat returned to his fighting stance, his eyes narrowing, he had to watch Zack’s movements carefully. Studied his fighting styles, anticipate his next move. These of course were all things the seasoned knight had taught him. Smirking slightly for just a moment, Zack rushed towards Karkat, and like the pair resumed. The troll was taking a defensive stance still time, either barely dodging Zack’s hits or simply blocking them. It was a minor bonus that trolls had thicker skin than humans. However that didn’t mean he could let Zack hit him, his punches would still hurt. He really was so strong, just like the others from their group. Countering one of Zack's blows, Karkat retaliated, he attempted an uppercut which missed, but he was able to deliver a swift kick to Zack’s side, knocking off balance. Rushing in close to strike at the other’s face, Zack held his arms up in cross position to block the punch. Taking Karkat’s blow, he stumbled back a bit. Karkat was coming close again, but this time Zack reached out grabbing the troll by the collar of his clothing, throwing his head back before slamming hard against Karkat’s forehead. “FUCK! Grrr!” Karkat held his face in pain, his head throbbing. Seizing his moment, Zack tackled Karkat to the ground. Gritting his teeth, his expression was back to his usual angry glare. Staring up at Zack’s smug expression.

Zack chuckled, he had the other successfully pinned, the added weight from his armour made it difficult for Karkat to move. He then held Karkat’s face tightly, pushing to side with Karkat snarling at Zack. His eyes twitching, as the other just smiled at him, but that grin was soon replaced by an expression of pain. Karkat used his instinct and sunk his sharp teeth deep into Zack’s hand that was holding his cheek. Zack immediately let go, holding his hand in pain. This gave Karkat the opening to push Zack off him. Zack just let out a bunch of incoherent noises of pain, his right hand now a large bite mark, and it was bleeding. It was dirty. But it worked. Karkat was now wearing a smug look of his own, spitting out some of Zack’s blood. Shaking his hand, throbbing from the pain. Zack tightened his bloody hand into a fist, he rushed at the Karkat who braced himself for Zack’s attack. However, he used his bloody hand, and swiped over Karkat’s eyes, wiping his crimson stain across Karkat’s face. Shutting his eyes, which allowed Zack to grab Karkat’s arm, throwing him over his shoulder and slamming him hard into the ground! “HEY! That was a dirty trick!” Karkat grunted, gritting his teeth. Rubbing off the blood away from his eyes. With Zack still holding his other arm. “Just following your example.” Zack said, keeping Karkat pinned for only a moment before letting go of him. Once the troll’s vision finally returned he was met by the sight of Zack holding his hand out for him. “Let’s take a breather, that’s it for the combat training…” Zack smiling at the other, Karkat huffed before taking Zack’s hand as he was helped back up to his feet. “You’re learning, changing up your techniques and styles. Not being restricted to just one.” Zack was impressed with Karkat switching up fighting styles. “Using any trick to your advantage…” He examined the bite mark on his hand, as he went over to their bags and grabbed a cloth and wrapped it around his hand over the bite wound.

Zack was genuinely impressed with how Karkat was progressing with him. His opinion of the troll and his attitude had changed since their first meeting. He was debating whether to take Karkat in as a student and train with him, but he had grown to like the other and was accustomed to the troll’s company, despite his flippant nature. His missions often had him alone, though this was by Zack’s choice. But working with a partner, and a team proves to be useful in more than one way. “Alright then. Let’s continue with Magic practice now.” Zack raising his arm up, a sphere of light appearing in his hand.

In another realm, another time, a world beyond belief, in the era of fairy tale. A time with knights, mages, mythical beasts, and adventure. In this era the human and non-human races were not divided, coexisting together, this land was full of magic. This supernatural force was intertwined with the very earth. This is a tale of a brave group of warriors who serve the realm as protectors, each with their own desires and goals. These are the tales of Skaia.

[dipshitcoyote]

Breath of the Wild Daemon!AU

Ok so! I’m working on an actual fic using these concepts and this version of the BotW world, but I thought that maybe some of you might be interested in my ideas so here! I’m putting pretty much everything under a readmore, because this is copypasted from my planning document, which got very long and doesn’t even have anything to do with the plot of what I’m writing ^^’

Enjoy!

Link’s daemon is a Hyrule Field Mouse (lol get it) named Firielore (fih-REE-ehl-ohr), Firi for short. From Fi, Ciela, and Farore. They settled early, when Link first drew the Master Sword. Historically, the Hero most often settles as a wolf, but other forms are not unheard of and he isn’t the first Hero to settle as something more unassuming.

Pre-Calamity, most people, even other knights, thought that Link and Firi’s behavior was odd. Neither of them ever spoke (Link is mute, but Firi can speak and just doesn’t), and Firi was just as stoic and inexpressive as her human. As a mouse daemon, she was always on his person, usually on his left shoulder as was uniform for smaller daemons of knights and soldiers, but was rarely seen out of that position except for when she would turn to increase their field of view or leave him briefly to scout stealthily around corners/over boulders and the like.

Relating to the issues that make him canonically selectively mute, Link’s lack of self preservation re: his Duty translated to Firi as well. Things like stretching their bond too far for too long for the sake of getting the scope of a situation or enemy, but not letting the pain show externally where someone else might be brought to their knees with it. Other things like Firi using herself as a distraction, running from Link’s arm to the Moblin’s to divide its attention and leaving them both exposed to give Link a chance to strike. The monsters don’t know the difference between hitting a daemon vs. its Hylian, and that makes the contact less bad, but not insignificant. There were rumors throughout the castle that Link and Firi had been separated traumatically or that the Master Sword allowed them the distance, but both are untrue- their bond was no different than any other Hylian, they just pushed it further in the name of duty.

Link and Firi’s character development (in the memories) is subtle just like in canon. Through the Yiga attack she is always on Link’s left shoulder, even when they and Zelda are just traveling. On the hill with the Silent Princess is the first time she’s not there- she hops off his shoulder when he crawls forward to look at the flower and she moves closer to it. After Zelda’s failure at the Spring of Power, Firi touches Zelda’s daemon to comfort him, just for a moment.

Firi had and has (Impa gave it to them with the Champion’s Tunic) a small set of custom armor for protection, but rarely wore/wears it; she’s fast enough that any attack that would possibly hit her in battle would probably kill Link as well. On the battlefield she would either deftly scurry around Link and warn him silently about attacks from behind, or slip into a small armored pouch that existed to protect her in one-on-one combat unless an opportunity to assist presented itself. In the present, she doesn’t participate in battle the same way she would 100 years ago (with the aggressive distraction and the like), moreso providing Link extra ears and eyes in a fight.

Post-Calamity, she is considerably more physically active, but she still doesn’t speak out loud- except very occasionally to Link himself. I.e when they first wake up in the Shrine of Resurrection, Link hears Zelda’s voice first and opens his eyes to Firi sitting on his chest, also saying his name. However, she’s still a very quiet daemon, especially considering that Link communicates via signing and it would be considered acceptable for her to talk for him. In Post-Calamity Hyrule she’s more outgoing towards other daemons and will greet them physically if appropriate.

Zelda’s daemon, Hylayrune (hih-LAE-roon), Layrune or Rune for short, is unsettled until the moment she awakens her power, when he settles as a Snowcoat Fox (Real life equivalent: Arctic Fox). His name comes from Hylia (all Zeldas daemons’ names start with ‘Hy’), (La)Nayru, Hyrule, and rune/ruin. Before he settled, he took atypical forms for the sacred princess’ daemon that were more representative of Zelda’s scientific pursuits, such as bugs (usually a bee), frogs, and lizards. Almost always, the Princess settles as a bird of prey (often owl, occasionally eagle or loftwing), or in some cases a small dragon (as the three dragons Dinraal, Farosh, and Naydra are said to be the daemons of the three Goddesses, with Hylia’s being most often depicted as a golden dragon or occasionally a huge, golden Loftwing).

Rune’s late settling, and his preferred forms before settling, were a huge cause of anxiety for him, Zelda, and their father. This is all tied into their self-doubt about awakening their sealing power and being able to fulfill her duty as the sacred princess, but it’s also personal for the King. His daemon is a Mountain Crow, which though known to be clever and resourceful are seen as a bad omen, even a curse, within Hyrule. It puts stress on his regime, and the idea that his daughter prefers frogs and lizards over forms that have become symbolic of the royal family and the sealing power is deeply troubling. Rune takes “appropriate” forms only at official appearances and ceremonies, and even then, usually a more wild hawk over an owl, eagle, or dragon.

Other characters:

The Old Man/King: Mountain Crow (real life equivalent: Raven)

Urbosa: Islander Hawk (with kind of a more desert coloration. real life equivalent: Harris Hawk)

Riju: Unsettled, usually a Sand Seal bc they love them

Impa: Blue-Winged Heron (real life equivalent: Great/Little Blue Heron).

Beedle: Hylian Retriever (A golden one, fight me)

Other random stuff/past Links:

- The Princess traditionally settles when she first unlocks/uses her powers, and the Hero traditionally settles when he draws the Master Sword. There are some exceptions, like the Hero of Twilight being old enough to have already been settled, and the Links in games without the Master Sword settling in other ways.

-Hero of Time and Twilight both had Wolf daemons. Their wolf forms are kind of a combination of them and their daemons’ appearances. Time had a lighter colored wolf and Twilight had a darker colored wolf.

    - BUT Hero of Time’s daemon is usually a mouse as a child, when he’s unsettled, alluding to past and future heroes.

    - The mouse thing (here and for the Hero of the Wild) comes less from personality and more from the feeling of facing an enormous dungeon boss as Link, like a mouse about to fight a lion.

-Both the Hero of Wind and Four Swords/Minish Cap Link also had mouse daemons.

    - For Wind this is because of the mobility he needed re: moving on a ship (also kind of like a ship rat? Disclaimer: I’ve never played WW)

    - For Four Swords/Minish this is because he shrinks down and is pretty much the same size as his daemon (she’d have to shrink a little bit too but not as much) and I just think that’d be really cute

-I’m not sure what Skyward Sword!Link’s daemon would be. Not a loftwing because it isn’t possible for anyone but a Goddess or a sacred princess (with Goddess blood) to settle as one, but I’ve never played SS so I can’t really say. It would have to be small enough to ride on a loftwing with him, or a bird of some sort- probably all of the people in Skyloft settled like that, now that I think about it. Maybe a beetle?

-Link from the original games probably has a wolf daemon, as well as LttP/LBW Link.

- Spirit Tracks!Link has a white dove daemon and she rides on his head like the birds in the game and its adorable

-Ganondorf always has a boar daemon in any iteration. When he transforms into Ganon they merge, similar to Wolf Link, but grotesquely instead of dissolving together in Twilight.

-Only the Hylians, Sheikah, and Gerudo have daemons

    -The Sheikah have mostly same-sex daemons, with opposite-sex daemons being about as rare as same-sex daemons among the Hylians and Gerudo. No one’s quite sure why.

    -The Zora have sort of a connection to their jewelry and weapons, but not necessarily a physical one. More of a literal “put your soul into your craft” type thing, which is why Zora armor is the way it is and most of the Zora have specialized livelihoods like sculpting and smithing.

    -The Gorons don’t have a physical Thing, they have a special brotherhood with other Gorons. It’s why you rarely see Gorons traveling too far from Goron City, and almost never alone. They can be alone, like a Zora can be without their craft and affects, but it negatively effects them after a while.

    -The Rito have their songs; though not all of them are musically inclined, its a cultural thing and not a physical requirement. Kass would be considered very spiritually aware and expressive, whereas Revali would not, but a non-musician Rito doesn’t suffer for it. There would only be an issue if there were no bards among the entire Rito race, and the songs faded from memory.

[borderlandscast]

his dark materials au

all these aus are going to crossover at multiple points, since it’s inevitable and i like creatively torturing myself. here is a basic cast list and notes. discworld au will be placed into a different post because this one is also epic length.

nilesy, will strife and parvus will get their own post! and discworld peeps too.

any feedback and thoughts on the magic system would be greatly appreciated!

rythian

born in sweden. barely left the country of his birth, except on family holidays or short trips to neighboring locations.

he became an experimental theologian with the intention of studying his heritage and discovering the mystery of why his daemon settled in an unusual form. the official story is that he’s supposed to retrieve or make copies of the althiometer interpretations for sweden’s own universities.

his daemon is called ‘ender’, gender neutral, small dragon the size of a house cat. ender has a lot of raised scales which gives them a thorny devil’s appearance. the scales are smoother than appearances suggest, so concealing ender beneath rythian’s cloak is the usual means by which ender hides.

ender’s species is that of a western dragon. thier features include a pointy head, frill, four legs with talons (thumb ones opposable, albeit sharp), leathery wings and a tail. ender’s eyes have a nictating membrane, and they possess excellent night vision.

ender’s voice has a raspy quality to it, but mirror rythian’s own voice. both have a faint accent when they speak.

ender shares rythian’s taste for information and knowledge. between the two of them, ender hoards the bulk of it. ender has never forgotten a book they or rythian have read.

ravs

born and grew up in scotland. has never been anywhere else, nor interested in doing so.

daemon is ‘finnley’, goes by she/her, a unicorn. finnley is a white ‘horse’ with patches of speckled grey on her body. she blends into mist perfectly. her eyes are a hazelnut colour. finnley’s tail is mostly white; she doesn’t take kindly to people pulling on it.

her hooves are the second most dangerous part of her, her ivory horn being the other. her hooves can crush skulls and stones, and her horn can gore through people.

that said, ravs is the only person who can ride her. she can outrun normal horses. he can ride her with or without a saddle, though ravs prefers the former for obvious reasons. finnley can carry ravs and cargo for about 100 miles (twice that of a regular horse) before tiring. she can go much further at a slower pace.

both left their town of birth due to religious authorities getting wind of him and his daemon’s settled form; the two of them left to protect their family and friends.

both have made a relative’s old highlands castle their secret base. the two earn money from running delivery jobs all over the countryside. given finnley’s speed and ravs’ head and social knack for business, they’ve got quite a reputation built up, and numerous friendships all over the place so both are never in pressing need of a roof, food and drink.

rythian doesn’t know this when they meet, but ravs can separate from finnley at will; both can travel incredibly far from each other if needed, though they prefer not to.

wherever ravs goes, he takes a carrier pigeon with him. the pigeon has been trained to respond to basic commands and questions, including relaying messages back and forth with fellow scotsmen.

a witch taught finnley the trick of how to conceal her horn by using the same trick that witches use to hide themselves from crowds or when infiltrating locations. people simply just don’t notice finnley’s horn. finnley has to concentrate to do this, but ravs’ natural chattiness makes up for her reserved nature.

ravs grew up as a farmer’s child, which explains his lack of complaints when it comes to hard work and rising at the crack of dawn to help out his folks and relatives. he’s used to the ups and downs of the occupation. he’s fairly well built as a result.

y’all be pleased to know that he wears pants in this au, plus his trademark kilt.

teep

british. welsh heritage. voluntarily mute.

daemon is ‘basil’, he/him/they/them, a cockatrice (with some traits from a basilisk mixed in). has a rooster’s head, body, feet, wings and tail; the tail has a functioning serpent’s head. the serpent can hide within the rooster’s voluminous tail.

basil is about the size of a large rooster; he comes up to teep’s waist if that’s any help.

basil’s ability to petrify people is based on vision; it can apply to objects too. basil ‘requires’ a blindfold, but gets by via infrared sensing and a keen sense of smell on their snake head, plus sharing teep’s vision.

basil’s venomous. their leg spurs and snake head produce a potent venom that’s akin to that of a taipan or brown snake. fortunately, basil can only produce so much venom a day. teep harvests the venom from the snake head to dip arrowheads into. the two are initially unwilling to elaborate on an antidote to ravs and rythian.

i said in an earlier post that basil had four legs, but i’m changing my mind and making basil more chicken shaped. basil has two taloned feet, but at the top of their wings is a smaller set of talons. these can be operated like pointy hands. like ender’s, they’re capable of shredding fragile items, like paper. it also lets basil scale objects, mostly trees and fences.

after a noodle incident that left a whole village petrified, teep and basil fled. they returned to keep guard over the village to make sure nobody discovers what happened to it. basil doesn’t feel any remorse whatsoever, and doesn’t think teep should either.

teep has proficiency in archery and maintains their own bow. their family used to be rangers and hunters, but began to dabble in lumberjacking due to rising demand in wood for ships, carpentry, artisan pursits and construction.

teep’s relationship with basil is that of mutual tolerance. they don’t necessarily like or hate each pther, though basil seems to prefer being around teep than be separated, with the addition of basil’s role in speaking for the two of them.

that said, teep dislikes basil’s snarkiness and talkativeness (which is hilarious, considering basil is a reflection and manifestation of teep’s own soul), while basil regards teep’s muteness the ‘silent treatment’, which says a lot.

some notes about zylus and daltos’ world:

separate to that of rythian, ravs and teep’s world, but linked thanks to several secret openings caused by the subtle knife’s bearers.

magic is heavily relient on dust, and the magician’s bond with a daemon.

this world developed like lyra’s world, so electricity/anbaric isn’t as widespread, and a lot of the continents remain to be explored. it’s part fantasy with steampunk thrown in.

cost of magic is concentration; you ever feel like you want to pass out after concentrating too hard? or get a migraine after a giant task? that’s the feeling. the tryhardiest of magicians fall asleep and simply never wake up; the dust expended doesn’t replenish in these comatose individuals to warrant consciousness.

given the presence of magic, religions are much more lax, acknowledging and tolerant of each other. that doesn’t mean that there weren’t wars, it just mean that they’re less on a grander scale of death and destruction since magic is utilized heavily to tamp down on these matters and nip them in the bud. there’s a lot of careful balancing between countries on keeping the peace.

magic is allied with science; science is one of the main drivers in advancing civlisation, while magic serves to fill in the gaps that science leaves (e.g. healing, weather control, binding). magic is treated like a science itself.

there are multiple schools of magic, and many sub classifications and styles. no one way is emphasised (though rival schools try to preach otherwise), or stronger than the others.

the term ‘magician’ is an umbrella term; wizard, witch, sorcerer are perfectly applicable examples of job titles, but regular folks use that first term the most.

anyone can enroll to study magic, and the earlier the better. the highest enrollment tends to occur at when kids enter adolescence, which is when dust begins to increase. there’s always funds set aside for those with incredible potential or from lower social classes to cover schooling, food, travel, study materials and uniforms. it’s in a country’s best interests to produce magicians since not many go on to further their career in a way that benefits a country.

all budding magicians start as theorists, and the majority choose to follow this path in life. they debate, study, experiment and discuss magic, just like they would a science. they can cast magic, but their methods and output differs substantially to that of a practical practioner (get it?). many theorists also have a second occupation, not always magic orientated (such as teaching, gardening, merchant). a few even regard magic as a hobby, dabbling in it on the weekends.

practical practitioners are a jack of all trades. they go out into the world and solve problems that occur as a result of dust, and to a lesser extent, conflicts or human problems. they’re paid a portion of the comissions fee by the requester and a reward upon successful completion. many are freelancers, some work only in one location, and a select few work for the government.

all requests come through via guilds that screen them for issues before making them public. private requests are also possible, including wanting a specific magician but these charge a much higher fee since the magician may not always be available or if another has to transferred in or out.

all magicians undertake a final exam condicted by professors to test their control, theory, aptitude, and specialty (optional, and the magifian can claim multiple ones). this is to root out those unprepared and the undesirables. it can be retaken as many times as needed.

upon passing, the institution acknowledges the magician, and grants them a license. the license isn’t legally needed since unlicensed magic thrives just as well; more caution is required when dealing with said magic. the license also serves as identification since each carries a unique signature from each daemon/human pair.

daemons must be settled by the time of the magician’s graduation. exceptions are rare. certain factions prefer recruiting daemon specific magicians. some say that the final settled form of a daemon determines how advanced one’s magic growth is, but that’s just gossip.

dust is present in this world to a ridiculous degree; if lyra’s world is a lake, this one is an ocean. two basic opinions exist: dust is finite, the other being dust is infinite. either way, there’s evidence to support both, but further studies are needed. and magic is slowly vanishing...

to prevent accidents with daemons (such as in hunting, sports, public events), all daemons must be marked in an obvious, foolproof way. kids tie scraps of colourful cloth or braids to their daemon, explorers equip hats or backpacks, university members use their school’s crest branded on a scarf or tie. there’s a whole world of daemon fashion. people can get very creative.

zylus

dutch scholar. born in the netherlands, has never traveled beyond europe. prefers to stay in one location, dislikes travel unless absolutely necessary. especially hates sea travel.

daemon is ‘griffin’, prefers masculine pronouns but will happily accept female pronouns, brown gyrfalcon. griffin’s height is about arm length. he has a whistling nature to his voice.

part of a noble house that made its fortune when shipping and trade lanes were first established out of the country. his family’s company has existed for a century, and is family run. zylus would rather avoid drawing attention to this fact. his family has low expectations that he’ll run the company, given his natural aptitude for magic, his interests and lack of business ambition.

zylus is a mathematician and a budding physicist. he has a head for numbers, attributed to his upbringing where no child in the house grew up blissfully ignorant of how the company operates. zylus assisted in accounts, making sure all the numbers nearly lines up on all sides. he gained a taste for it, and combined with a curiosity of dust (thanks to the scholars frequenting the store), led to his university career.

zylus entered university in his early teens, and spent the majority of the time immersed in the mathematical side of explaining dust and feeling out his magic. his faculty involves studying the nature of magic through formulas, theorums and laws, depending on the type of magic.

zylus developed a method for quick, precise casting of magic. it involves entering a certain state of mind, and he and griffin are currently stumped as to standardize it. if he’s successful, he might revolutionise the way magic is cast. most magicians cast magic like they’re being filmed: with great, sweeping movements, drama and chants. zylus thinks this is impressive and all, but highly impractical.

he has yet to decide on a specialisation in magic, owing to his occupation and interests. it’s fine to leave a magic specialty blank since all it does is help the guilds match up requests to a magician.

he prefers using precise magic, mostly used to give him a quick, numerical snapshot. it can be tailored depending on the job (like calculations, divinations, calibrations, weighings or measurements). zylus’ toolkit also includes a wider variety of real world magic but he rarely uses those spells. he also knows archival spells to preserve notes and texts, and the manual methods of doing so.

zylus is certified as a practical magician, but chooses not to accept requests except those from his family, faculty or friends. he doesn’t even know who’d request him snice he works in such a niche field to begin with.

griffin is capable of flying at least a hundred metres away from zylus. the nature of this range is a subject of intense debate in the field of daemon focused studies in that large daemons are theorised to have a greater wandering range than that of smaller daemons, and is especially so for bird daemons (those with flight capabilities, anyway).

due to griffin’s talons, zylus has to carry a foldable, wooden perch for his daemon, or have leather pads fastened to one or both shoulders whenever he leaves his home so griffin doesn’t have to park on his head or arm.

griffin’s personality isn’t as aloof as their form suggests; griffin is more talkative than zylus is, and is the more patient and outgoing of the pair. griffin tends to notice smaller details that zylus overlooks. griffin isn’t as serious as zylus is; in fact, their playfulness is akin to that of dallas’, daltos’ daemon. sometimes zylus’ self consciousness spills over, so griffin can be harder to read than usual.

zylus adores griffin, though griffin can be a handful when the both of them are agitated and hold opposing opinions. nonetheless, zylus unconditionally loves his daemon, and vice versa. he does his best to listen and compromise, and he doesn’t shun griffin for long after they’ve both squabbled.

zylus ties a small leather pouch to griffin, and a plain, sandy coloured scarf to mark griffin as a daemon. the pouch can hold letters, small objects, food, and instruments. griffin can open it on their own with their feet and beak.

daltos

american scholar. born in ‘new denmark’, left the country at a young age. the sole reason for that is his talent in magic; schools for magic hadn’t been fully established, and the best option was to send daltos back to europe with his uncle and aunt.

daemon is ‘dallas’, genderfluid, bearded vulture. dallas has no preference for pronouns. their voice is ambigious, albeit with a harsh note to it; daltos prefers masculine pronouns when personally referring to his own daemon.

his early childhood in italy was full of adventures, largely spent by following his aunt and uncle around since both were practical magicians by trade. he picked up a lot of their mannerisms and habits, including their taste for functional, minimal fuss casting and arsenal of spells.

as a result and in his later years, daltos has traveled extensively all over europe; his trips as a small child had a profound effect on his curiosity, and his aunt and uncle did well in cultivating it.

once he hit adolescence, he went to one of italy’s universities, taking the exam. he eventually decided what he wanted to do while attending said university.

daltos studies people and daemons as an anthropologist, focusing on the study of the presence of dust and how it rises and falls with social development, culture and practices.

he keeps meticulous logs about his travels; part of his goal is to track, document and learn about cultures that lack archive entries. his other goal is to chart shifts in dust over time to pool together data for a collective study that his faculty is responsible for. said faculty believes that sentience is key to dust’s existence, and thus, dust is infinite.

he transferred to zylus’ university to access their data, with the stipulation that he help some of the other branches to cover some absences. this is how he and zylus met.

daltos’ magic is more focused on a versatility of spells than conpletely mastering a select few. as a field magician, he and dallas have to be prepared for anything, from healing, shielding, weather adjustments, repairs, to animal control. he carries around a detailed notebook listing basic spells, sorted by category, effectiveness and strength, all based on his own observations and experiments. he also prepares powerful spells in advance on dust infused scrolls; these are last minute resorts, and are all sealed away in a waterproof bag.

dallas is a large daemon, measuring about 1.2 metres in height. like zylus and griffin, daltos owns leather pads to support dallas landing on his shoulders, and carries around a portable wooden perch.

dallas’ wandering range is about two hundred metres. dallas reckons that he could go further, but that’s his rough estimate.

dallas is marked by a navy bandanna worn around their neck, and leather spats. when traveling, dallas equips a backpack to help carry equipment and items.

dallas is a reserved daemon, in contrast to daltos, who is known to be a chatterbox rivalling parvis. however, dallas does share some of daltos’ traits, such as his stubbornness, acting insufferably smug, and being a playful piece of shit. dallas is fond of stealing items that daltos needs and retreating to a high location until daltos either comes after him or caves.

daltos and dallas are as thick as thieves, they have no secrets between them, and indulge in a lot of joking around. they know it looks unprofessional to onlookers, so dallas tends to adopt an intimidating air when out and about. otherwise, dallas plays the straight man to daltos’ funny man. as for how daltos keeps a straight face when he looks at dallas head on, he says ‘he doesn’t.’

[50shadesofmittens]

As a self-indulgent extension of my very, very long ramble on Kitten’s True Name...

I wanted to put a little bit of context for what this means in the context of my fanfic, Three Times They Don’t, where I assume my theory about Kitten’s true identity to be true (please read that first). So far this only includes what’s been published, ‘cause everything unpublished is up in the air until it’s published.

That said, in the fanfic, you can assume Kitten has read Prospero Burns at some point. That won't be relevant until the first chapter and has very little to do with what I’ve written so far.

What I’ve written so far incorporates the theory in a few ways. For one, the prologue takes place the night after the Triumph of Ullanor- something Magnus lampshades. When he mentions having met Kitten before, he’s talking about the scene that got a comic here, although in the fanfic I personally don’t interpret that scene as flirting on Magnus’ part.

Haedo’s name was taken from the book A Thousand Sons as well, and his one personality trait was given based on his brief appearance in that book and in the Blood Games short story. Namely, the fact that the man was willing to throw down with Dorn.

I made the decision to use a balcony for their meeting spot for three to five reasons- One, we know from official artwork that the Citadel built for the Triumph had balconies big enough to put a Primarch on them, and that those balconies had overhangs. Two, the entrance to a balcony can, and in this case I’m going to say is placed inside of another room, giving me an excuse for Magnus to be alone. The balcony leads to a room in the citadel, and Magnus’ honor guard are waiting just outside of that room’s entrance. Three, as explained in the fic a balcony is a good spot for hyper-paranoid guards to keep a lookout while staying hidden (as any talented assassins or threats would search for and avoid any obvious lookout posts, you need to have hidden lookouts scattered throughout the citadel to be effective.)

Fourth, it’s a dumb romance cliche for lovers to have a balcony scene, and fuck it, I love playing with dumb romance cliches, just for the hell of it. As the 1/2 of a ‘time they didn’t,’ it’s doubly fun since A) I like the irony of these two having their personal relationship begin platonically with a balcony scene, and B) any AU where they do initiate a relationship beginning from divergence during this scene gets a little bit of cheesy romantic fun added to it. Fifth and finally, I can set up jokes for later by having Amon be totally chill about swinging on and off huge-ass structures like this with relative ease. ‘Cause those overhangs are not designed for the kind of movement I describe in my fic, and I like the idea that it took a lot of skill and agility to perch on the overhang the way I have the Custodians do, and a lot more skill for Amon to climb down to the balcony as quickly and as fluidly as my writing implies. Especially in armor. Amon’s narrative is very simplistic about the activity because he himself is completely nonchalant about his gymnastics, which lets me set up future jokes about Amon being completely unimpressed by his own strength and not understanding why people are amazed when he does things which are mundane to him. Also, if I don’t have to spend three paragraphs describing how the architecture makes this kind of maneuvering difficult and how Amon pulls it off anyways, I don’t run the risk of boring my readers to tears with too much detail.

The final thing to note is that with this scene added to the cannon context of Amon believing that Magnus mind-controlled and possessed him, he comes to have even more personal issues with Magnus once the entire thing with Amon-daemon goes down. For one, Kitten-Amon comes to the conclusion that Magnus was definitely trying to recruit him for some nefarious plot during the balcony thing. That he was foolish for talking to him at all, and that it was dumb to ever think for even a moment there was anything but politics and power grabs behind their interactions. That he failed to stay true to his loyalty and his purpose as a Custodian, and that in talking to Magnus he did betray the Emperor, and practically invited his own possession (which is 100% bs btw, but characters can't always have healthy or accurate self-reflection). All of which pales in comparison to the kind of things that would occur during the ten-thousand years of imperial silence, but I fully plan to bring this entire scenario up later (much later) in Three Times They Don’t.

Now for stuff that I intended, but didn’t get written down and thus can be used or ignored at the reader’s will:

Something I didn’t have time or space to include was direct context for Magnus being out on the roof. I had this whole idea where Magnus and Mortarion came to heads during the festivities, and though they didn’t start anything in semi-public (ie their father’s presence), Magnus at least left the scene feeling frustrated and annoyed. Rather than going back to his pyramid, which would’ve been made public, he tried to find somewhere private to brood- hence the balcony. He actually did notice the Custodians, but he was feeling so self-absorbed in his internal pity party he forgot they were there until they moved to make a report.

As for why he initiated a conversation with Kitten, well, Heresy-era Magnus is often characterized as trying to be humble and open-minded by practicing the theory of those traits without comprehending the greater picture of the concepts. He understands- or thinks he understands- on an intellectual level how a truly wise man would feel about the situation he’s in, but when his emotions flare up they reveal that he’s unable to practice what he preaches.

So after spending some time brooding about Mortarion, he’s exactly the kind of person who’d realize only after an interruption that he’s being unfair and exaggerating Mortarion’s bad traits. The kind of person who’d know he should stop thinking about how much his brother sucks, but who lacks the emotional control to stop, and with enough self-awareness to know that he should find something to do to get his mind away from his brooding. And the kind of person too proud to go back to the festivities while he’s still licking his wounds, and also too proud to acknowledge that he’s ignoring that possibility.

So to Magnus, the best thing to do is find something that can distract him from his thoughts, without requiring him to return to where his sons are undoubtedly hovering just a few hallways away, anxiously waiting for him to return. He might’ve brought a book with him, but look- people completely unrelated to the issues on his mind. People he can start up a conversation with, and possibly use to distract himself. And hey, he’s already got a conversation-starter with one of them that might not be awkward as fuck to use.

There’s one “third part” to my trilogy of posts, which is coming soon- a list of pre-heresy romance AU’s that are not going to be used for Three Times They Don’t, and the various ways this scene can be modified and played out to match the AU.

[rain0205-blog]

Terminal State

Summary:  She tried leaving, submerging herself in work to escape the horrors she had seen. The horrors she kept seeing. She never wanted to go back to that life. But when the Empire takes her home, she’s forced to face her past. Can she move on? Can she cope? Or will she require a bit of help? still bad at summaries, still working on it. ever so slightly more than slight AU gadioxoc

Sad Realization

...

The sun was retreating into the horizon, causing the sky to be splashed with pinks, oranges and blues. Crickets chirped their ancient song and the breeze blew in the cool night air. The fire hissed and popped as it burned, providing warmth and light in the area. Athenacia sat in a chair beside Prompto. Noctis was on his other side, still looking guilty about something. Anyone who took notice just ignored it. Iris and Ignis were also in chairs while Gladiolus opted to take the ground. They had finished their meal, cleaned up and really had nothing to do besides wait for the sun to come back up. They were talking about the day's events, and old memories they had shared together - except for Athenacia, who stayed quiet and observed. The night air was filled with their laughter and teasing of each other. Iris had the look of pure happiness on her face, truly enjoying the time she got to spend with all of them. She too would be very sad when they parted ways in Caem.

Gladiolus was leaning against Athenacia's legs on her left side. While she was trying to put distance between them, he was attempting to reassure her that there was no need for that. She felt responsible for something he had initially started in the first place. The Shield had just gotten her to drop her guard after the trauma she suffered, he did not want her to pull away from him again. Her walls were some of the toughest to break and he seemed to have trouble staying inside of them, like she was afraid of something bad happening if she did let him in. So she fought against him - probably as a second nature - and she was a very worthy opponent. Good thing he was incredibly stubborn, however, she didn't want to deter him completely either. While keeping watch of Prompto and listening in on some of their fondest memories of growing up she had managed to slip her small fingers into the dark brown locks. Slowly she caressed the top of his head while having her fingers run through the hair gently. It was easy for her to tell it was helping with whatever tension had built up inside of him since they were reunited. Gladio was very good at keeping it to himself but she was better at seeing things that most people couldn't. She was sure that he would tell her on his own time what was going on, just as she knew he trusted her to confide in him when she felt that she could. Athenacia was a healer at heart and wished to ease his pain in any way that she could. Her feelings for him only amplified that need.

As the night wore on, the faithful trek to bed began. It started with Iris who vacated to her own tent first. Ignis was the next to leave, wanting a full nights rest since he was going to be the first to wake up in the morning. Gladiolus was dozing against Athenacia's legs still, not wanting to leave her touch just yet. Prompto was also drifting off in his chair while Noctis still had his solemn look on his face as he stared into the dancing flames. The doctor had almost a similar look, neither of them speaking, not wanting to wake the others nor really knowing what to say anyway. It had been quite an eventful day. Gladiolus fell into a deeper sleep, light snores erupting from him, gained the attention of the woman he was resting against. Athenacia leaned forward, having a look at his peaceful face. The corners of her mouth twitched into a small smile, bringing her right forefinger to the bridge of his nose and ran it down the length, all the way to the tip lightly, causing him to stir. She repeated her actions until finally, he came to swat her hand away. When that didn't work he opened his eyes, realizing what was going on. He met her calm gaze and she only jerked her head toward the tent lightly. Releasing a heavy sigh, he pushed his forehead against hers a moment before getting up and going to bed.

That only left the Prince. Athenacia rose from her seat as well, taking another round of Prompto's vitals with her tools. They were normal and he had managed to hold a conversation since his injury, so it was probably safe to let him sleep. Noctis watched her every movement, right until she was settled back in her seat. The girl returned her gaze to the dancing flames in front of her, feeling exhausted already. Her body hurt from all the activity today. Once he had gone she could heal herself properly. Maybe she could get a nap in the truck, that would be nice.

"How did you do it?" asked Noctis.

Athenacia looked over at him curiously. It seemed he was waiting for this moment the entire night. Prompto was passed out and everyone else had gone to bed but only he remained, with that look of guilt he had been wearing since they left the thicket. She had wondered if he was going to say anything at all, was surprised that he managed it. What's more, she didn't know why he was choosing to have this conversation with her. It wasn't like the two of them were close at all. While she enjoyed his company and was able to carry a conversation with him, her troubled past had always led her to keep her distance from him.

"Do what?" she kept her voice light.

"How did you watch them die?"

The girl sighed, taking her gaze away and leaned back in her seat, trying to think of the best way to answer his question. Images of the battlefield and lost souls came to her mind: the trying times of war, friends bloodied and beaten dying in her arms, the smell of decaying flesh and sounds of screams all around her. That red sky, daemon eyes and azure glow that overtook everything. Athenacia quickly pushed all that away, her gaze still hard as she stared into the flames, flames that took everything away with their simple touch. Her fist tightened though she did not let him see it.

"I didn't handle it very well. I walked away, remember?" she spoke finally.

"But after a long time."

"True. Nothing can really prepare you for something like that. It never got easier, there just wasn't a choice. We always went in knowing we might not come back out, trained to fight like it was our last day. I have my limitations and sometimes that always forced me to come to terms with it."

Athenacia saw his face harden at her words. Clearly she was not helping the situation whatsoever but what did he really want from her? She was a coward mostly, never wanting to fight in the first place and opted to run away whenever she got the chance. However, this wasn't something she could just up and leave from, she had to tell him the truth because if he didn't realize this then he may very well make a big mistake. The physician truly wished that he hadn't asked her about it. Ordinarily, she wouldn't talk about her past or anything to do with it but she felt she was left without a choice after serving his father for so many years.

"If you weren't here... Prompto he..." he couldn't speak.

Immediately she understood what he was saying. This was the closest he had gotten to losing someone in front of him. The reality she had spoken of weighed heavily on him for the first time, a sad realization. Noctis was so preoccupied with the grief he carried around from losing his home. There was so much put on him all at the same time, she was truly impressed with how he was holding it together - even if it was just barely. Athenacia understood why King Regis did not want to burden his son with maintaining a wall against the Empire. He was simply too young, just a child. Of course, that was besides the point of being the Chosen King.

"Next time-"

"Stop," she commanded, "If you go into something thinking you'll fail then that's exactly what you'll do."

"I don't want anyone else to die."

"I wish I could say that they won't. I wish I had the power to stop it."

"So do I."

"But you do. That's why you're the Chosen."

The Prince looked unhappy to hear that. They were silent again, both of them gazing at the dancing flames before them. Athenacia waited for him to speak again, knowing that this conversation wasn't over. There was nothing she could do for him, not knowing exactly how to help him since she had no idea what he had been through. Until she had been dating Gladiolus for a while in the city, she really had no idea where he was and how he got there and it seemed as time went on she was just discovering more about him that was supposed to be a story.

"Why me?"

His question caused her to laugh without actually meaning to. Noctis looked at her in alarm and she gave him an apologetic look, trying to stop her giggles. Athenacia wasn't sure she hadn't heard someone ask "Why me?" when they were faced with something they felt was impossible. As soon as he had asked she clearly saw in her head the child that was described to her by Gladiolus and the others, catching a glimpse of the memories everyone besides her shared for herself.

"Why not you?" she replied with a smile still on her face.

"What does that mean?"

"You inspire people. You bring out the best in them without even trying. They gravitate toward you. They believe in you. I believe in you and I never even thought it was all real, just a children's bedtime story."

The Prince held a thoughtful frown at her words. Athenacia watched him as he tore his gaze from her, going back to the fire and she internally sighed, only being reminded of why she never did psychology. Flesh and bones were much easier.

"No one else should have to put themselves in danger for me," he said sullenly.

"Everyone knows the risks," she replied, "They made that choice themselves. You can't feel guilty because you never made them do it."

Noctis sighed, looking even more upset than before. The physician turned her eyes toward her patient instead, monitoring him and missed her nurses for things like this. Glancing over at the solemn Prince, she wished there was a way for her to help him. He was just a child, he wasn't ready for the burden placed upon him. Without another word, he got up and went into the tent under her calm hazel stare, sighing at the reality of his situation.

...

The next morning Gladiolus woke up to both Prompto and Athenacia sleeping in their chairs. Ignis and Iris were already up getting breakfast ready while Noctis was still sleeping in his tent. The fire was burning down which meant that the young doctor really was up most of the night keeping watch over her patient, shoes off and underneath the chair. Her hair was down, falling against her softly as her chest rose and fell gently, her head limp against the back of the chair, falling toward the left and allowing him a glimpse of the scar on her neck. Gladio ran his eyes over it quickly before stretching and taking a peek at the morning sky. Everything seemed calm and crisp.

Looking over at the doctor once more, he noted she was beginning to twitch. The Shield recognized the signs, she was in the middle of one of her nightmares, face in distress but no one else seemed to take notice. Gladio walked over there, nodding at his sister and Ignis as he passed by. Athenacia began to jerk her head this way and that, her eyes shut tightly. Gladiolus watched as she seemed to be in more pain the longer it went on. He reached for her right hand, holding the balled up fist gently he noted she felt abnormally hot, more than she usually did but she wasn't sweating. Athenacia took in quick shallow breaths, causing him to frown as he knelt down and took hold of her cheek. Gladio shook her gently in an attempt to wake her, skin growing warmer and warmer, causing him to worry.

"Doc," he nudged her slightly.

Athenacia didn't respond, only began to shake as tears started to fall from her Shield wiped them away, keeping a firm grip on her arm while he again tried to rouse her from her nightmare. There was sweat forming on his hand where he was touching her skin.

"Doc, wake up," he said a little louder.

Her shaking became more violent as more tears streamed down her face. Her body temperature kept rising and he was forced to let go of her hand before it burned him. By now Ignis and Iris had taken notice of what was going on, looking over concerned. They didn't move, however, waiting for a signal from the Shield before they acted.

"Doc!" he shouted, taking hold of her shoulders gently and trying to jerk her out of sleep.

Gladio couldn't hold onto her for long, grunting at the pain from the burn at her touch. Was she sick? Her entire body felt almost like it was going to burst into flames. Athenacia didn't show any signs of a fever, she wasn't even sweating, making it hard for him to understand what was happening to her. This did not seem like a normal nightmare and had no idea what he could do for her aside from trying to wake her up.

"Cia, wake up!" he tried again, desperately wishing to reach her.

The doctor cried out once, not appearing to hear him. Gladiolus was growling as he tried to stop her from falling out of her chair, pushing past the pain. All eyes were on them, except Prompto who was in a deep sleep and Noctis that remained in the tent. The Shield knew that Ignis was waiting at the ready for assistance if need be, knew that the Adviser was studying this in order to act accordingly.

"Athenacia!" he yelled loudly, his voice echoing all around him.

The girl took in a sharp breath, opening her eyes in alarm. Gladio was intent on her face, shaking his head slightly. For a moment it seemed like her eyes were more almond shaped and red. Must have been a trick of the light because he definitely only saw scared hazel eyes looked all around her. Tears poured out of them as she began to hyperventilate. Gladiolus held her shoulders gently, trying to get her to focus. Athenacia was still shaking and her temperature had cooled down considerably, having trouble getting air into her lungs with her face pale. The Shield moved once he saw the warning sign, taking hold of her hair and placing that hand on her back. His other hand took her right one for extra support.

Athenacia leaned over and vomited, bile spilling out of her mouth and onto the ground near her feet. Gladiolus took the hand from her back and held it up, stopping both Ignis and Iris from coming any closer to try to help. Dismissing them, he replaced his hand on her back and rubbed it gently up and down. He kept her hair from her face as she let go of another round, gripping his hand tightly while she wretched. Spitting out the last remaining bit, her breaths became slower, remaining hunched over and not quite sure if she was done yet. Gladiolus let go of her back in order to take a glass of water from Ignis, nodding at the man before holding it in front of her face and silently offering it to her. Athenacia placed her lips on the edge of the cup and he leaned it back slowly, allowing her to take a small drink. The doctor heaved, the water moving and more bile spilling from her mouth. This one wasn't nearly as big as the last, indicating that there was no more left after this.

Again, he held the water to her and this time she took it with her own free hand and she swished it around in her mouth before spitting it in her vomit pile, taking another drink. Handing him the cup, she wiped her face clean and frowned in disgust at the bile on her hand, holding it far from her face as she sat up a little. Gladio met her gaze then, the realization of him being there finally registering to her while she hadn't released her grip on his hand and he patiently waited for her to be ready. It wasn't long before she averted her eyes in shame and he placed the cup down on the ground, helping her to her feet. Athenacia kept her eyes downcast as he led her away from the haven and toward the water. Once they reached the edge she released her grip upon him and submerged her dirty hand, kneeling down so that her legs were also wet. Gladiolus watched carefully as she cleaned up her face as well, hearing her sigh heavily and keeping her hands on her thighs as she distantly looked out in the sparkling water. The Shield had never seen her like that before and it worried him that she only appeared to be getting worse, recalling the words she had spoken to him at the haven in the thicket. Was there truly no way for her to recover from the horrors of war? Assuming that was what kept her awake at night.

"Doc..." he didn't really know what to say to her.

The girl rose from where she was knelt, shaking her hands and turning to face him. Her left eye was getting better, the purple even more faded and occupying less of her face. The scab on her cheek was flaking off and he couldn't see the wound from yesterday, tucked away in her hairline. Her creamy skin was red from the cold water, and she walked carefully out of it while shivering slightly. Instinctually he enfolded her in his massive arms, her head resting against his bare chest near the bird. Gladio frowned, noting how cold she was not when mere minutes before she was ready to burst into flames. Athenacia was always abnormally warm but during her nightmare... He had no idea how to help her, especially with the way she seemed to be keeping it all to herself. Didn't she realize that she didn't have to?

"I'm sorry," she whispered into him.

He held her tighter, "You didn't do anything," he told her gently.

"I almost puked on your feet," she pointed out.

He shrugged, "I don't care about that."

"You would if I actually hit you," she attempted to lighten up the mood.

"No," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

Gladiolus released her, bringing his hands to rest on either side of her face. Athenacia looked up at him and he could see that she was uneasy, making his frown deeper while wishing that she would let him help her with this. Sometimes it seemed she was more stubborn than he was. What was she so afraid of? Didn't she know by now that he wasn't going to hurt her? Why was she hiding?

"Doc, I hate seeing you like that," he said finally.

"Sorry," she dropped her gaze.

"No I," he grunted trying to form the words, "You need some help, you felt like you were literally on fire."

"Did I hurt you?" her attention snapped to him.

The fear on her face caught him off guard. Her breath was getting quicker and he could feel her heart rate increase with the veins in her neck. Tears began to form in her eyes as she desperately waited for him to answer her question, ready to collapse in anguish if he said the wrong thing. Why was she so scared? It was almost like she knew she could cause harm to someone with what happened, as if something like this had happened before. None of that even made sense.

"What? No, Doc, no one's hurt-" he began, confused

"Thank the Gods," she said with a huge sigh of relief.

"Why did you think-"

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"Hold on, what are-"

"- scare you. It's nothing I'm fine-"

"Slow down, I-"

"-just thought that maybe there some lasting damage-"

"Doc, wait a sec-"

"-wasn't sure if I'd have the right antidotes and-"

"I can't understand-"

"-definitely not the tools to treat unknown ailments-"

"Athenacia!" he shouted finally, stopping her in her tracks.

He had her full attention, the shock evident all over her face. Gladio never used her real name, not even the simplified "Cia", but it seemed that it was the only way to slow her down. The girl was tumbling words out faster than he could even react and all he wanted was for her to relax. He didn't even know what to say to her, too many things racing through his mind. At least she was alright, however, he knew that she would be better if she had confided something in him, allowed herself to lean on him just as she made it very clear she was there for him. Sighing, he rubbed his thumb along the scabbed cut on her cheek before letting his hands drop, holding her gaze as she waited for him to say something, anything - because she was increasingly worried the longer he was silent. Gladiolus sorted through his thoughts, trying to find the best way to form the words he wished to speak. Unfortunately, he was not a master like Ignis. It was always hard when it came to her, he much preferred teasing her, that was simple.

"Listen Doc," he began, still unsure of himself.

The Shield sighed, still keeping his gaze on her. There were still tears waiting to fall in her eyes, clearly holding her breath in anticipation for him to speak. It was moments like these he wished he was better at communicating how he actually felt. He was good with people but not when it came to emotions, far better with actions.

"You're not alone. If you need help, let me help you. I want to..."

She shook her head sadly, looking down, "I'm not going to distract you from your job."

He frowned, "You're not a distraction," he said firmly, taking her chin with his hand and gently lifting it so that she was facing him, "It's you and me, remember?"

Gladio watched the conflict swirling in her eyes. The walls he was desperately trying to hammer through were beginning to crack. Athenacia was having trouble letting them fall but he was getting there, far too stubborn to quit on them anytime soon and knowing that he could break them down completely. It was a slow process, one that he was fully willing to take on until the very end. What could have happened to make her so weary of allowing him into her life? Who had hurt her so badly that she couldn't fully repair herself? How was he supposed to make her realize that all of it was unnecessary? She wanted to let him in but for whatever reason, she was afraid to do so.

Finally, she just nodded once at him, despite hiding behind her own defences.

"You and me," she repeated lightly, a tear falling from her faded purple eye.

[acaciapines]

Hi, yeah, me again - I have another long ask -

So first off I read "a daemon, a Daemon" (can't use that combined letter on my dumbass tablet sorry) and I just. Love it?? A lot?? Brilliant, truly wonderful, love it to actual bits. And it got me thinking. I like your unique take on Daemons (I have my own unique take on their creation specifically that I want to share at some point) and I would like to get you thinking of something, if you'll bear with me. So:

Let's talk Daemon au. For Deltarune.

Kris, a "human", doesn't have a Daemon. Neither does ("human") Dess, of course. Nor, unsurprisingly, anyone else in Hometown, because they're all monsters, right? And monsters keep their souls inside their bodies, like sensible people.

When Kris finds out about the... human thing, and discover that they're like Dess in that way (as per my last ask), the biggest and most convincing factor to them is that they don't have a Daemon. Because monsters don't have Daemons. Right? That's why Kris doesn't have a Daemon. Right?

Right?

(Incidentally, yes - that's entirely correct. They genuinely are a monster soul mistakenly born into a human body, just like Dess. It really is the case that they don't have a Daemon because they never were going to have one in the first place, because they're not human at all and their soul is already inside their body. But it causes a lot of anxiety and species dysphoria for a hot minute.)

Eventually, they do make peace with it, kind of. They're a monster, so they don't have a Daemon. Obviously. And since they don't have a Daemon, and no one else does either, it doesn't really matter much. They're no different to anyone else in Hometown. It's just the way it is.

And then - and then, one day, they wake up without control of their body. And as the thing possessing them gets up, a shape of - something darts underneath their jumper, a sparkle of gold making the thing smaller than it was before. It's a - a Daemon, it has to be. Only Daemons have golden Dust like that, only Daemons can change shape, change size. And Daemons are human souls. Which means - if they can't move on their own, then - that means -

A human is possessing them, and that human has a Daemon... But then... What part of the human is controlling Kris...?

Because the soul - well, the soul is under their jumper, then under their cape, then on their shoulder and in the air and carrying them on its back. The soul is talking to Ralsei, trying to catch up with Susie, joking around with Lancer, twisting and twirling above and between the Darkners. The soul is changing shape with clouds of golden Dust; now a red deer, now a ferret, now a doberman, now a pied crow, now a dragonfly, now a clouded leopard. The soul is there, present, visible. The soul is the Daemon.

So what the hell is controlling Kris?

aww im glad you liked it! a daemon, a dæmon is probably one of my most favorite things i've written recently--feel free to hit me up if you want any extras on it specifically! i've been writing a lot of deltarune recently but my one true love is and always will be daemons. and for a daemon, a dæmon specifically, there will be more of it one day! well, kinda--originally i wanted to write a sequel, but my idea would require waaaaaay too much explaining of daemon-stuff to an audience that it would take away from my main theme of the story (chara learning to accept flowey for who he is, not who he maybe, at one point in time, was), so now it's just a general undertale fic, though like: my frisk and chara characterization is identical to a daemon, a dæmon, 'cause, uh....canon frisk and chara ARE an amalgamate of a person, they just define it differently since they aren't living in a world with daemons. also you can pry xe/xir chara who's nicknamed frisk milkweed from my cold dead hands

(and as a side note: no worries with not being able to type æ! whenever i wrote that fic i had to have it copy-pasted so dfngdfg i decided to do it knowing it would make my life harder).

and ooooh i do love your take on a deltarune daemon au! i think we see kris a tad differently--i don't see them as 'a monster soul in a human body,' more as a monster who happens to look like a human--ie, yes, maybe they are, genetically, a human, but they do not identify as one, and in an ideal world they just--are a monster. nothing else matters.

but! love this take. if you ever did write it i'd love to see where it is going--what IS controlling kris, indeed? i think daemons from the perspective of someone who doesnt want one would be fascinating, and i really love the angle of this daemon acting, for all intents and purposes, like kris's daemon. does that make it their daemon? who gets to make that choice: kris? the player? the daemon? are they all the same thing?

and, actually, going back to different takes on things--Guess Who Is Also Writing A Deltarune Daemon Au. it won't be out for a while but i've been chipping away at it since before deltarune chapter 2 even came out, so like. it deals with a kinda similar idea! except kris does have daemons in this verse, and like--what does that look like?

the player from the perspective of a daemon au is fascinating okay. in a world where you already might hate a part of yourself, how do you tell when there's an outside entity controlling you?

i also decided to make this one on twine kdjfgfdg this is the fangame i sometimes mention. i'm at a bit of a roadblock since i decided to add a battle system, but, yknow what, here, have a few sneak peeks:

i'm particularly proud of my battle setup. that took a WHILE to figure out. no i haven't coded the actual battle yet but its fine shhh i have my list of variables and elseifs i need.

[aikainkauna]

Fanfic trope meme

Apologies to those of you who see this for a third time, as I’ve crossposted it to both LJ and Pillowfort. Feel free to comment over on there (or my other posts) if you like. And of course, feel free to grab this one and do it yourself, if you like.

***

Grabbed this meme from a couple of people on LJ. It's... well, apparently about fanfic tropes. Some of them more terrifying than others.

I have written:

-Hurt/comfort (Yeah, baby! Most of my fic is this.)

-Body swapping (Sort of? Souls slipping into each other's bodies for a bit? Jaffar feeling what Yassamin feels? Sex swap, I've definitely done.)

-Soulmate identifying marks (tattoo, red thread of fate, etc) (I have! The Throne of Solomon. And maybe The Past Forgotten counts, in its way. I may have written more, but I forget.)

-Snowed-in cabin/isolated together for extended period of time (The Jaffar/Pwinzezz Cavefic!)

-Found families (I guess the Samarkand gang counts for poor old Fadl? Even if Jaffar *is* his brother, so technically it is his family. But he does have his religious congregation and Zainab, and is... well, he always does seem to be seeking something, so he's the kind of guy to go for this trope.)

-Fairy tale/mythology AU (And not just when I am  writing in *actual* fairytale/mythology fandoms. Which I am doing most of the time, what with Thief of Bagdad being a 1001 Nights fanfic anyway. So I'm writing fanfic about a fanfic of some age-old RPF (fantasy AU!) about historical figures from the late 700s/early 800s...)

-Enemies  to friends to lovers (Yes, please! Aplenty. I'm surprised that  enemyslash/FoeYay/Hero(ine)/Villain(ess), whatever you want to call it,  isn't mentioned on this list.)

-Characters swap roles AU (Uh... I've written sexual switching in some isolated chapters? Like when Laura  briefly doms Torsten in The Fall of Angels, to help him get over some traumas?)

-Friends to lovers (With RPS, Veidtbone in particular, and Theta/Koschei. This also seems to happen whenever I write femslash.)

-Magical  connection (telepathy, etc) (Doctor/Master basically ruined me for all  my other ships what with their telepathic ability. So that now, it feels less interesting for me to write love/sex that *doesn't* have telepathy.)

-Fake dating/fake marriage accidentally turns into feelings (see next trope)

-Royals/political marriage turns into feelings (These last two are pretty much the same thing in ToB, as I've had Yassamin marry Jaffar a couple of times--like The Past Forgotten and The King's White Falcon, but without him laying a hand on her for up to a year, until she finally grows a brain and realises how loveworthy he is after all.)

-Seemingly unrequited pining (Emphasis on the "seemingly." Jaffar's unrequited   pining is painful enough in the movie, so there's no point in making him  suffer any more.)

-Accidentally fell in love with the mission target (Well, *kind of,* what with Torsten. Lars-Erik was definitely his mission target in the original film, and at the start of Because The World Belongs to the Devil, he made no bones about having wanted to kill Laura Erika [the teenage girl version of Lars-Erik in this AU, to those of you just joining in] when she was born.)

-They break up (but then they get back together) (With Jaffar/Fadl.  Fadl's stormed off in a huff at least twice in the past. And Doctor/Master is always the same old on-off car crash, isn't it? Although this is not a favourite trope of mine, as the setup would usually necessitate them being an existing couple in the first place,  and I tend to not write canon or "plausibly lovers" ships because   they're already happily together. What do Two and Jamie, Holmes and   Watson etc. need me for? They're already as good as married. Let them have their happiness.)

-Supernatural creature/human romance (Sort of. I've written Time Lords/humans, humans/djinn at least. And surely wizards count as supernatural romance, anyway?)

-Reincarnation/'25  Lives' AU (What's with the 25 lives? Is this some big fandom thing again? One of the darkest, most fucked-up fics I ever wrote was the Master killing the Doctor during sex and fucking him as he regenerated around him. As you do. And there's reincarnation in one of my Jaffar/Pwinzezz fics,  but I won't spoil it for the new readers by telling you which one it is.)

-Selfcest (possibly due to time travel) (I am scratching my head trying to remember when I wrote this and in which fandom, but I have the distinct feeling I've written it. I've certainly whacked off to  that World Of Simm!Masters clusterfuck what with the pink dress so many  times I... I think I broke two clit buzzers during that time. I've certainly drawn it. And drawn some Connies on Connies. And then there's, of course, Sarosh the Sexbot  who's a clone of Jaffar, looks-wise, but he is very distinctly just a robot, not a living character as such--not the sort with which you could  have a real, interpersonal dynamic. My problem with selfcest, in general, is that I like having that character dynamic--and that requires  the characters to be different from one another. If it's two characters  that are too similar--if they fulfill a similar role in the canons--it's hard to create a dynamic between them and to make it   interesting.)

-Polyamory (Swinging away ALL the bloody time with the Roses!Jaffar and Yassamin, and Torsten/Laura. Sometimes I miss the monogamous 'verses.)

-Amnesia (I've got a post-movie "Jaffar comes  back from the dead" WIP I'll probs never finish, because it doesn't seem to get off the ground. If I wrote this trope, I would have the characters gradually regain memory, though; complete mind-wipes are   horrid. I did have Handy lose the majority of his cognitive/motor/Timey skills in No More  and that was the main reason I had to... well, I'm not going to spoil it if someone hasn't read it yet, but it wasn't the cheeriest of fics. The Past Forgotten *sort of* has this, but I don't want to spoil as to how that happens.)

***

I could write:

-Daemons (Why the archaic spelling? I have written djinn, so I almost put this in the 'have written' section. I can't remember if I actually *have* written real demons, because I might have. Surely, Torsten counts...)

-'Everyone is evil'/mirrorverse AU (Well, mostly, if I want to explore "evil"   characters, I write about those types of characters in the first place, without having to turn anyone evil. Devilry is the 'verse for that. Hell, usually it's the other way around; I try to look for the human elements of the baddies, or at least explore their logic--what makes them tick, what makes them the way they are. So, IDK, I could've also   put this in the "unlikely to ever write" section.)

-And they were roommates! (This would be terrible and also hilarious, whatever characters ended up becoming my victims. Even if I'm more interested in those hurt/comfort plots, overall. And I have always found it *impossible* to live under the same roof with other people because I need peace and quiet and solitude too much. So this is almost a bit too much like the sorts of negative RL experiences I don't really want to get more of in fic.  But I *could* write it as a comedy for cheap lols, especially if the stress were resolved by hot bonking, ASAP.)

-'They  all work in an office' AU (Otherwise, I would've put this in the "just  no" category, but... the Barmakids were civil servants. So I *could*   write Jaffar and Fadl drowning in paperwork--"WHY DID WE EVER introduce paper into THIS EMPIRE?!?" and cursing their fates and Jaffar restraining Fadl from braining Harun al-Rashid with a paperweight. Same with Lina doing Zainab's books and trying to hold back The Fist of Death when Fadl carelessly drops a piece of his lunch over her perfectly calligraphied accounting.)

-'Falling for a coworker/teammate is a bad idea' except this is fiction so it works out (Maybe. Just maybe. But it'd also be in a medieval ToB context.)

***  

I will probably never write:

-'Groundhog  Day'/karmic time loop (I just never got the appeal of this. Sounds like the sort of thing experimental writers would like? The sorts who really  like filling in bingo cards and challenge lists?)

-Vampires/werewolves  AU (I'm not that big on either. Super-unpopular opinion coming up: I prefer sex to the sublimation of it that vampires are often all about; bloodsucking in lieu of sex, and/or being seen as way better than sex just always feel to me like a cheap cop-out from writers who are disappointed in sex, or afraid of it. I've never grokked it any more   than that stupid, stupid "chocolate is better than sex" quip from women who don't know what masturbation is--yes, it fucking well is sex, TYVM! I much prefer to make partnered sex better than it is IRL by adding supernatural stuff like telepathy to *that*. Immortality alone is interesting to explore, as are Gothic themes, but all the usual themes that vampires *specifically* usually represent just... either hold little interest for me, or then, I can explore them in other ways.)

-'Pride  and Prejudice' AU (I don't hate Jane Austen, but it's not my fandom. That kind of society stuff and being witty over teacups in bonnets has never really been my thing--if anything, I usually have my characters exist in their own bubble, isolated from society and its restrictive mores and social stresses.)

***

JUST NO!

-Coffee  house AU/food service AU (AUGH! Please, no coffeeshop AUs for me; the world is full of them already. Maybe I could write it as some terrible, short parody? Or doodle it? But no more than that.)

-Hogwarts AU (Haven't read HP. Young Adult isn't really my genre. I know, I know; I've just lost all my WLW cred.)

-High  school/university AU (I've done Time Lord Academy-era stuff with Doctor/Master, but I expect this means a sort of American high school/university AU with jocks and cheerleaders and shit. Hell, no. Again, the exact sort of horrid society stuff I would rather have my characters escape from.)

-Adopting/raising a baby (Erm, not unless you count Jaffar/Yassamin adopting a cheetah? They do have kids in some 'verses but there's none of that everyday baby stuff that this question/trope probably implies. I'm squicked by   babies, sorry.)

-Unusually specific occupation AU, like, the Author clearly has the same job (It worries me that this is, by virtue of its inclusion here, apparently seen as normal and acceptable..? When it's crap fanfic, inserting yourself into something that should be about the *established* characters instead. Jesus, I don't want to go in expecting a fanfic, and then find out it’s your diary instead! Unless you're Anaïs Nin. And even if you really *do* want to write about yourself, then just... write original fic? An autobiography? A blog? Write an OC that has your job. Don't do this false advertising where you insist it's fanfic when it's not. That's a dick move towards your readers.)

-Loyalty kink (see next trope)

-Alpha/beta/omega (Too creepy. I can write about piss, shit, incest, necrophilia and cannibalism, but not these last two. Any more than I can glorify the Nazis I've written about; I either take the piss out of them, as with Strasser, or just step outside of their politics and bring them into the land of happy sexings like with von Kolb, with the aim of dragging him out of that madness and leaving it behind.)

-Hot single parent(s) (Please. Rundvik: "You love children." Torsten: "I loooooathe themm.")

-Unrequited pining (Too much of an emotional squick. Has to be requited. I write fanfic to fix things, to avenge wrongs, to set things right. I don't write them to make the characters more miserable than they already are. Unless it's for temporary, character-development purposes, that is.)

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fic: Nocturne (20/30) - Ao3 Link

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairings: Mostly Gen (variety later to come)

Summary: In which Cor Leonis loses his temper, accidentally acquires a kid, and tries to single-handedly dismantle the Lucian immigration system – and that’s before he and his lawyers find out about this Prophecy business. If the Astrals think Cor’s going to let his kid’s best friend die without a fight, they’ve gotten the wrong cheetah ‘taur.

(a young adult novel set in @kickingshoes’ ‘taur AU)

—————————————————————————————— ——————————————————————————————

Regis knows that his wife, and sometimes his friends, think that he can be too soft: too quick to forgive, too generous to his enemies. He doesn't take offense. It's probably true. His is not the way of the Fierce, or the Conqueror, or even the pitiless Warrior of his forefathers.

For Regis, it has always been more important to have hope.

Hope is all that sustains him, some days – the days when he dwells upon the loss of his kingdom to the encroaching Niflheim threat, when he sees how cruel his beloved city can be to the refugees that wash up upon their shores, when he thinks about what 'taurkind could truly do to fight the daemon scourge that plagues them all if only they worked all together.

Hope that for all the evil in world, there too is light – that the light within the souls of people would win out over the darkness.

Not every time, perhaps. But once in a while.

Enough.

It is for that reason he gave the Kingsglaive the chance to defend the Citadel alone: hoping, by this measure of trust, to show that he did value them, that their contributions were worthwhile, that there was still some peace yet to be had if only they all worked towards it.

That not all of the stories that Drautos – if indeed he were in fact Glauca – had fed them were true.

He knew, of course, that he was taking a risk in making the offer; Clarus and Cor had pointed that out to him at great length. Aulea had spoken briefly against the idea, but had subsided quickly enough; she knows him well enough to know when he has made his final decision, and the reasons behind that decision, and she knows how important it is that his reign be one of mercy as well as justice.

Yes, if he had known that Niflheim would reach out to parley and negotiate a treaty now, of all times, he would not have made the offer. He does not so easily gamble with the lives of his people, whatever Drautos says, whatever accusations he makes – accusations so pointed and searing that Regis cannot tell if they are complaints truthfully meant or merely barbs designed to hurt. But to take back the offer once made would do worse than destroy what he sought to achieve: it would crush those of the Kingsglaive who were yet loyal, knowing that despite his words their King did not trust them.

There would be nothing left of the Kingsglaive if he did that.

So he did not revoke the offer.

Next, he hoped that, at the very least, they would not act against him: their captain gone, their plans gone awry, forced to act within the very heart of Insomnia rather than whatever plan they originally had. He hoped they would see reason, if nothing else, and abandon their treason still-born in its crib.

They did not.

Lastly, he hoped that what measures he had put in place to defend against the possibility of treason would minimize whatever damage they might inflict, and in that he still had reason to hope.

And yet –

Somehow, he did not think that they would attack each other.

Their comrades-in-arms, their brothers and sisters, their friends.

That's why he assigned the most perilous tasks – guarding the Crystal, guarding his own person – to Kingsglaive that he trusted personally, or who were recommended to him by those in whom he had faith. He thought, he hoped, that that would be enough - enough to safeguard his city, to safeguard his person, to cause those who wished them all ill to take a moment of pause before they acted.

It is not.

The Kingsglaive – or at least, some traitorous portion – have turned upon Lucis, and they spare no one at all.

Several of them were engaged in some form of sabotage of the Crystal and, upon seeing Regis and Aulea enter, decide that the time for secrecy is over; they warp – using his power – behind their comrades, daggers coming down.

Regis is too weak to stop them outright, the Ring draining his life more swiftly each year, but he can at least divert their blows: he lifts his own hand in return, summoning the great Armiger of his ancestors, and he sends it against the traitors, knocking them back.

He was never much of a fighter, no, not like Clarus or Cor; he relies too much on his magic and his shields, and he always has, enough to make him wonder what name they would call him once he was dead –

– but poor fighter or no, he still has some tricks up his sleeves.

He casts forth his Armiger once more.

The traitors are battered down by his weapons and hastily retreat, calling for aid.

"Hemera!" Nyx screams, the shock that kept him frozen breaking. He darts forward – one of the two Kingsglaive that was stabbed is his sister.

She clutches at her shoulder, blood streaming down her back to stain her pale wolf hindquarters, making terrible sounds of pain, but she nods at Nyx, making some signal with her fingers – deaf, of course; Regis has nearly forgotten, since all of the Kingsglaive tend to be rather overawed and silent in his presence.

Regis never learned LSL, a fact which he's regretting now.

Aulea produces a gun. "There are more coming; I can hear them," she says. "Shields up, my dear."

Regis raises shields around them all – just in time, as the Kingsglaive stream out of the Crystal chamber to surround them.

"Where did you hide that gun?" he asks Aulea. He didn't feel her summon it. "You're still in your court dress."

She smirks. "Darling, the gun was also in my court dress."

He does so love her, his fierce lioness.

There is a terrible cracking sound, like glass breaking, and it fills the room.

"What's that?" Pelna, the other injured Kingsglaive, gasps. Nyx is focusing on bandaging him first – Pelna was injured worse than Hemera, a wound deep in his side rather than the shoulder, and Regis suspects Hemera, who hovers by her brother's side, insisted.

"That is the Crystal," Regis says, and raises his eyes to the sky. He can see from where he stands that the Wall is beginning to crack in the sky, falling in shards of beautiful magical glass that dissolves even as it falls. Without the Crystal to focus his power, there is nothing he can do to maintain the Wall. "They have knocked it from its plinth."

"But that would –" Nyx begins, then stops, horrified.

"Yes," Regis says heavily. "The Wall has fallen. I expect Niflheim has already summoned its airships and is attempting to launch an attack on Insomnia as we speak. I have already called upon the Crownsguard to defend the city."

He’d sent the message in the elevator. He had to offer trust to the Kingsglaive, yes, but even trust only goes so far.

"Niflheim won't be able to bring too many MTs," Aulea says. "We would have spotted a full fleet. Our Crownsguard will likely be able to overwhelm them and repel their forces – there are procedures in place for an invasion. The only question is –"

She falls silent.

Regis turns.

Drautos is there.

He was supposed to be in the prison cells, guarded by Crownsguard – Regis almost hopes that they were bribed or corrupted, but he suspects they were not, and that they are now dead.

Perhaps that is why these Kingsglaive did not hesitate to raise their hands against their own, hands already stained with the blood of their fellow citizens.

Drautos is there, and stepping forward, his mighty sword at hand, his incredibly powerful hyena haunches flexing as he moves.

"Your Majesty," he drawls, and his voice is thick with sarcasm.

Nyx's head shoots up. "Captain," he says almost blankly. Then, to the donkey ‘taur at Drautos' right hand, "Luche." And to the coyote ‘taur on his left, almost a moan of pain, “Axis.”

They were his friends, these ‘taurs.

"You should've just listened to your orders, Nyx, instead of being a hero," Luche says with a heavy, disappointed sigh. "And maybe you would've made it."

"Sure," Nyx says, starting to get angry. "But Hemera, she would be dead, huh? And then you'd come and hunt me down like a trapped rat or something?"

"We would have given you both the chance to join us, instead," Drautos says, waving the one called Luche back. "You are from Galahd, which has not fallen, but you, too, know the agony of invasion – the pain of watching your family, your home, bear the brunt of the Empire and the daemons, while the King of Lucis sits safe and sound inside his precious wall, hoarding peace and tranquility for himself –"

Hemera stirs and makes another gesture with her hand.

This one requires no knowledge of LSL.

"Yeah," Nyx says savagely, agreeing. "Go fuck yourself. Traitors."

"We never betrayed what truly mattered," Drautos says. "We have always been loyal to our homes – to our home and hearth –"

Regis feels Aulea's tail wrap around his, a comforting gesture, and – very delicately – squeeze twice.

"– to the Empire?" Nyx is shouting. He's acting as a remarkably good distraction, even though Regis believes him to be entirely in earnest. "It was the Empire that took your homes, not Lucis!"

"I cannot fault them for taking what was given," Drautos sneers. "A weak kingdom, a weak king, sacrificing the homes and sons of outsiders so that his precious city alone would prosper – the Empire was drawn in by the weakness of Lucis –"

"What the hell are you even talking about? This war has been going on for generations!" Nyx shouts. "No one king can have caused anything!"

"They took away the Wall!" Drautos roars. "It once extended far across the land, but they abandoned our people to the dark and the daemons –"

Regis finishes counting to five and abruptly drops the shields.

Aulea, who was naturally expecting it, fires at once.

Five shots, all but emptying her gun, and then Regis pulls the shields back up.

He has never been much of a fighter himself, no, but his loved ones have always been fierce enough so that he never noticed the lack.

As hoped, the attack took the traitors by surprise, leaving them no time to respond in kind – Luche ducks with automatic instinct, Aulea's bullet searing through the meat of his shoulder instead of lodging within it; Axis staggers backwards, slower to react and not nearly so lucky, the bullet striking true in his chest; and Drautos –

Drautos, at whom three bullets were aimed, simply changes, silver metal snaking all along his flesh until he is fully covered, into –

“General Glauca,” Regis says, his voice heavy. He had dearly hoped that it wasn’t true. Scientia found evidence of treason, yes, of fomenting rebellion underneath the nose of the Citadel itself, and she thought that the evidence suggested that Drautos was Glauca – the timing of their appearances; analysis of their fighting styles; Glauca’s reluctance to fight Cor, who had beaten Drautos in a one-on-one – but Regis hoped…

“You - you - you fuckwad!” Nyx shouts. “You absolute dickhead!”

Aulea grins. “Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose,” she murmurs. “Perhaps slightly less than perfectly diplomatic – but understandable, given his tender age. And anyway, who needs diplomacy in battle?”

“I fight for my people,” Glauca says to Nyx, his echoing voice twisted enough to be unrecognizable as Drautos’ own. “You protect a weakened king and a dying kingdom – and for what?”

“It’s called ‘not wanting the Empire to take over the world, unleashing daemons left and right’,” Nyx snaps. “Every single crime you hold against Lucis was committed by Niflheim, by the people you are fighting to help, you – you plant!”

Aulea sniggers.

Everyone glances at her.

“What?” she says. “It’s funny. Plant as in vegetation, or plant as in undercover spy – okay, I’m ruining the joke.”

Hemera signs something Regis can’t understand, then gives a thumbs up. He assumes that means she agrees that the statement was funny.

Glauca shakes his helmeted head – just the way Drautos does when he doesn’t understand how someone could ruin the moment like that, though it's usually Cor who enjoys puncturing solemnity rather than Aulea.

Cor –

Cor is away now, unable to help; he is with the group seeking to obtain a Covenant with the Archean. Regis can only hope that they succeed.

At least Noctis is away, and safe.

Regis trusted Drautos with the information about his precious Noctis, about the Prophecy, about how important his mission was for the sake of all the world, and Drautos betrayed him regardless. Forewarned or no, that betrayal still stings sharp.

“Enough of this,” Glauca says. “You hide behind your shield, king, displaying your weakness once again – enough! Come out and face us.”

Nyx tenses into a fighting stance, pulling out his daggers; even Hemera staggers to her paws, though she’s listing very badly to one side. Pelna cannot rise at all, his hindquarters wet with blood, his tail hanging limp, and his face gone pale.

Regis looks at Glauca right where his eyes would be.

“No,” he says.

“What do you mean, no?” Luche demands.

“I refuse to fight you upon your chosen ground,” Regis says calmly. He lifts his hand and additional shields spring up, these ones lining the walls around the chamber of the Crystal. “My wife accurately analyzed the situation: Niflheim is far, and there are only so many ships they could bring close enough to be of service to them now, and in those ships, only so many MTs. We, on the other hand, have the full might of the Crownsguard with us to defend the city, a Crownsguard filled with many more ‘taurs than are in your corrupted Kingsglaive. They will succeed in repelling the Niflheim attack, in time. The only uncertain element that might have tipped the balance was where you were, General – and now that we know that, you are going nowhere.”

Regis cannot see Glauca’s expression, but he can see Luche’s – the smug sneer of superiority dropping off his face; the realization, perhaps belatedly, that shields are not only good for keeping attacks out, but also keeping people in.

“Wait, what?” Nyx says. “Our plan is just – what? To wait?”

“With the Wall itself down, I can keep these shields up for a very long time,” Regis confirms. “There are more Crownsguard and, I hope, loyal Kingsglaive such as yourself, than there are traitors. They will repel the Niflheim forces, and then they will come here and arrest these traitors, bringing them to justice.”

“The Crownsguard has detached a division to detain the Emperor of Niflheim as we speak,” Aulea says, looking at Glauca. “If all you care about is your home, Drautos, then surely you do not object to such a measure. Unless you are indeed loyal to Niflheim first and foremost..?”

“The Empire’s nothing more than our ticket out of this situation,” Luche snaps, though the whites of his eyes are showing. He’s afraid. He’s little more than a boy, and Regis pities him – but he’s made his choice. There’s no turning back now, not with murder on his conscience. “It means crap all to us.”

Glauca is silent for a long moment. Regis wonders what he’s thinking – wonders if Aulea’s jab flew true, wonder whether Glauca is truly loyal only to his homeland, thinking he is doing the right thing by allying with the empire, or whether Glauca is by now no more than Niflheim’s dog.

Sadly, Regis doubts he’ll ever get a satisfactory answer to that question.

“It does not matter,” Glauca finally says. “We will escape your little prison.”

He lifts his sword and brings it down hard on the shields, clearly seeking a weak point. They exist, of course, and as the captain of the Kingsglaive, trained in the use of the King's magic, he would know all about how to find it.

But they have made one mistake: they took down the Wall first. The greatest part of Regis’ magic, of his life and soul, was poured into that Wall, every day, and with that drain gone, it is his to wield once more.

These shields will not break.

Glauca continues to try, though, and Luche and several of the other Kingsglaive pull out their daggers, drawing their hands back to cast lighting or fire –

Nothing happens.

“What…?” a rabbit 'taur which Regis believes is named Tredd asks, staring at his hand in surprise. “But the King is still alive – we should still have magic!”

“The magic is my magic,” Regis says harshly. “And I, and I alone, choose to whom it is gifted – and it is a gift I can recall.”

“Again you hide,” Glauca sneers, “while others die.”

“It is by taking this action that I protect as many people as I can,” Regis says. “To the best of my ability. Even if it means I cannot fight in person. Say what you will, Glauca; it will not move me.”

Glauca spins and stalks away, going to confer with the other Kingsglaive.

“I’m not sure I like this plan,” Nyx says, dropping his fighting stance and returning his daggers to their sheaths.

“Not heroic enough for your taste?” Aulea asks, smiling a little. “These things rarely are, particularly when you have to worry about so many people. The perilous joys of being royalty, I'm sad to say; we have to think of the bigger picture. And, sadly, keeping Glauca and the others contained is more important that appeasing our own desire to smack him in his stupid face.”

Nyx barks out a laugh.

“Come,” she continues, “let us see what we can do for young Pelna.”

Hemera limps over to Regis and salutes.

He smiles at her. "I'm sorry, my dear; I would call for medical assistance for the two of you, but..."

She shakes her head firmly and signs something.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

She shrugs, clearly accustomed to that. She salutes again. He takes that to mean that she understands why he cannot put the shields down, and that she still supports him.

"Can you shield just them in?" Nyx asks, peering at the shield. "Then we move out?"

"Unfortunately, they would have to stay in one place for that," Regis says, watching the corrupt Kingsglaive mill around, hitting the shields with their weapons in a vain attempt to weaken them. "We also don't know what further forces they are in contact with. Putting shields up and down is more draining than keeping them up, and I don't know how long we will be required to keep them up. Far better to stay in our current position. Unless Pelna requires immediate medical attention...?"

"No, sir," Pelna says before anyone else can say anything. "I'll be okay, sir. Don't you put them down for my sake."

Regis accedes to his request, though he worries – the side is a very delicate area, near the intestines, and too much of a delay might lead to sepsis. But the plan is still valid, injury or no, and at least Pelna’s willful pretense of good health is enough to let Regis deceive himself into hoping that perhaps they will be able to avoid any more casualties.

"They're planning something," his sharp-eyed people-wise Aulea says, watching the traitors talking with each other. "Keep your guard up, all of you – if they find a way to break the shield, we will be vulnerable."

The three Kingsglaive all nod.

And so they wait, stuck at an impasse.

It is, sadly, a state Regis is very familiar with from this long and endless war.

After what must be nearly an hour, if not more, there's a sound in the hallway.

Regis and Aulea exchange looks of concern.

"Not Crownsguard?" Nyx asks in a low voice, catching it.

"The Crownsguard had orders to secure the city and to stop the Niflheim invasion first, should the Wall fall," Aulea replies, "and only after they finish that should they turn to restoring the Crystal. I find it unlikely that it is our forces coming up the stairs – more likely our enemy's companions, here to assist with the problem of the shield."

Nyx nods his understanding, murmuring something that sounds not unlike "they deserve the stairs", and goes back to watching the other Kingsglaive.

He's memorizing their faces, Regis thinks; he wants to know who betrayed him.

Regis would tell him that such exercises will only lead to heartache, but he knows well that words cannot help heal the wound of a betrayal such as this.

Sure enough, the sounds from the stairs resolve themselves into more Kingsglaive – not including Nyx and Hemera's good friend Libertus, Regis notes, and hopes that the honest bear 'taur yet lives – and with them, held in their grip, they have –

"Clarus!" Regis exclaims.

Clarus is hurt, and badly – his face is bruised, his eyes blackened; his striped orange hide wet with blood and the oily miasma characteristic of MTs. He is not walking, but being dragged.

He hears the others around him, reacting in their own way, but he only has eyes for his Shield.

His oldest friend.

There's no way the MTs managed this alone, for Regis knows that Clarus would have been surrounded by Crownsguard – and yet – if Clarus has fallen - then the city –

Clarus signals roughly with one of his dangling forepaws, not using his hands to avoid notice.

Stop. City. Safe.

The city is secure. Then how did they get to Clarus?

"You are very good at hiding behind your shields and walls while others die," Glauca says. "Let's see how well you do when it is your friends who are dying."

He lifts his sword and puts it to Clarus' neck.

Regis opens his mouth to say – he doesn't know what, for there is nothing he can say, nothing he can do -

There is a terrible sound, then, from just outside the windows, a sound familiar to anyone who has been beyond the Wall.

The sound of the terrors of the night.

Daemons.

"And those are the daemon carrier ships unleashing their weapons upon your city," Glauca says. He sounds satisfied, the monster; he does not care about the civilian lives that will be destroyed. "Even better. You will watch as your friend dies by my sword, King, even as the daemons come right into your city of tranquility, bringing death in their wake –"

Another sound.

Glauca frowns, clearly not recognizing it.

Regis can't entirely blame him. It sounds like – thunder?

But the sky was clear, last he checked.

"Holy crap," Pelna, who was lying slouched by the small window, suddenly says, his eyes wide. "Ramuh's fucking wings...!"

"What is it?" Aulea asks. She puts her forepaw on Regis' own, warning him against impulsive acts. She herself would use her hand for the gesture, but she has her now-reloaded gun aimed firmly at the enemy.

"Ulric," Regis croaks, gesturing with his head to the window, wanting a report. He can't take his eyes off of Clarus' steady gaze.

The one that says 'Let me go'. That says 'my life is not worth dropping your shield'.

That says – 'my life is your shield'.

But Clarus is his oldest friend, his friend from the crib, from when they were no more than kittens themselves. He was the only one who stayed by his side: when Cid decamped to Hammerhead after an argument, when old Weskham stayed on in Altissia, when Cor the kitten, their late arrival, grew up. He is the only one who understands Regis' mind the way no one else does, not even Aulea.

A King must make sacrifices. Regis knows that maxim far, far too well. It was to save as many people as possible that he retreated into Insomnia after his father's death and their terrible defeat, knowing that it was only that retreat that encouraged Niflheim to slow down its plans of conquest – that painful retreat and the withdrawing of the Wall some years later that brought about their tenuous ceasefire, however temporary, and gave a pause from the horrors of war to the lands of his people so that they could try to rebuild.

It was for his people that he stayed behind the Wall and did not start a fight he knew he would lose.

And it is for his people that he will stay behind his shields now.

As a king, Regis must love his people. As a 'taur, there are times he finds that he hates them.

"Ramuh's wings!" Nyx exclaims.

"What is it?" Aulea snaps.

"No – you don't understand – it really is Ramuh's wings. He's manifesting!"

"He's what?" Regis says, and many other people in the room exclaim something similar as well. They all move towards the window at once to go look, each on their own side of the magic shield wall; even Glauca goes, pulling his sword away from Clarus to do so – a moment's respite, nothing more, Regis knows.

They go to look and they see –

Noctis.

Noctis, standing in the open doorway of a Niflheim cruiser that hovers right above the center of his city, Gladio at one side, Ignis at the other, Luna and Prompto at his back, his hands thrown up into the air as if he were summoning the storm itself.

And above Noctis' hands, there is Ramuh himself, gathering in the air above them all, his thousands of birds coming together into his gigantic form.

And below him –

"Titan," Regis breathes, even as the others around him curse.

Titan himself manifesting his far-flung form, which he has not done in years, in generations, the mighty bull of the land rearing up and bringing his terrible hooves down, down –

Down upon the daemons unleashed by Niflheim.

Ramuh throws his great staff, thunder and lightning both, and he hits the daemons, too, a fiery blaze that blackens and consumes them even as the massive creatures of dust and darkness turn to flee.

And before the unstoppable might of the Astrals, the daemons fall. No matter their size, no matter their fearsomeness, this is one battle they cannot win.

Seeing this, the airships of Niflheim scatter and turn to flee.

"No!" Glauca roars, lifting his gauntleted hand in a fist of rage.

Noctis and his ship are moving now, turning and heading straight to the Crystal, Regis notes almost absently. Straight towards them.

"Betrayed again, Glauca?" Aulea asks, her voice poisonous. "It is almost as though the mighty Empire doesn't actually care about refugees fighting for their home, just the way you accuse us of doing."

Glauca strikes out at her in his fury, but for all the might of his sword, Regis' shield holds. His traitorous Kingsglaive mill around him like frightened geese, panic in their eyes, realizing, perhaps for the first time, that this is a battle they might lose – and that there is a price to be paid for treason.

"You may have won the day, cowards," he snarls, spitting mad. "But you have lost, too – I will see to it that you lose –"

He turns back to Clarus, whose calm has not been moved, and he lifts his sword up high.

"Regis!" Aulea shouts. "Drop the shields now!"

He doesn't know why she is suggesting this – it is contrary to their agreed-upon plan of remaining behind the shields – but Regis loves his wife and more than that: he trusts her.

He drops the shields.

And then, through the highest pane of the great window far up above them, there is the shattering of glass as someone leaps through it and down to them, landing right before Glauca.

Someone with sword drawn and teeth bared.

Someone whom Glauca has never faced in open battle – someone whom Drautos has never defeated –

Cor.

The Immortal.

“Hey there, Glauca,” the finest warrior of Lucis says with a smile. “I’m here to kick your ass.”

[the-blind-geisha]

As You Wish, My Lady - Chapter 4

A/N: Keep in mind, these are all strictly AU based—in a world where the bros might not have even met and or the layout and archetypes of the world have changed. For this one, Altissia has its own royalty ruling over Accordo. Enjoy~. If I find the time, inspiration or the response is good, I may add more to them.

I got a bit wordy with this one, sorry. x-x; 

As always, you can read this far better on AO3 under my name Oreana. Sometimes Tumblr just sucks. x-x;

Pairing: Ignis Scientia x Princess!Reader 

Desc: He’s been there through everything—your ups, your downs, and listened to the worst of it all. He practically raised you when your parents were too busy to be around, and he, Ignis Scientia, became your everything. But perhaps you trusted him with far more than you were supposed to… 

Pairing: Ignis Scientia x Princess!Reader 

Rated: SFW 

Words: 9,285 

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 You expected there to be more of an uproar when you stood your ground next to your betrothed to admit that you had become pregnant before your marriage to one another days later when you knew it would be impossible to hide it much longer. Confessing before your father, you were lectured—heavily.

 What a disgrace this was. The public would find out that their Queen to be was reckless and acted without much thought in regards to anyone but herself. Even the King that was to take to the throne next was just as senseless in all of this and acted without thought. It made you cringe a bit, really. Why weren’t you allowed to make your mistakes? Why couldn’t you have a child before marriage? Everyone without royalty in their blood was allowed to do however they so pleased but you had to be the ever perfect, shining example of flawlessness in the eyes of Eos.

 It continued to be maddening…

 However, even royal fathers and mothers aren’t immune to the excitement of what is to bring in regards to grandchildren and the scolding didn’t last nearly as long as you expected it to. When your father, however, spoke of trying to rush the wedding given the news, you felt yourself panic at the mere thought.

 Ignis remained nearby during the conversation with your parents, bowed in respect so there wasn’t much you could make note of when it came to how he was personally feeling about any of this. You did notice his hand at his side seemed to clench tightly now and again at certain moments in the conversation as if to restrain himself in the matter. His frown was always prevalent since walking into the room, but it didn’t seem to worsen from what you took note of.

 He already had so much taken away from him and honestly…after that one stand with Anduin you found yourself unable to even imagine doing it again as your heart couldn’t fool you into thinking he was the one for you no matter how much you wished to try for the sake of your people and your family’s honor. It was an odd burst of courage, but it was a moment you stood your ground and offered an idea all the same.

 You asked to postpone the wedding and keep it at bay regardless of an unplanned child on the way.

 “With everything happening in Niflheim, I would rather Prince Anduin focus on one thing at a time,” you expressed quickly, hoping to buy more time for the truth to have the chance to surface. “While I know a baby will be a challenge as well…I…” The words paused in your throat, stealing a glance at Ignis who had managed to look up and in your direction with a neutral expression that was hard to glean in what it meant. “…I know I can handle it just fine with Ignis should a moment require us to do so.”

 The room was silent at the suggestion but even Anduin didn’t seem to mind the thought as he didn’t chime in to disagree. From what you could easily gather in the last few days being with him, his mind was always back home and the worry of their city being overrun by daemons and you knew, deep down, he would possibly have to return earlier than planned and could very well miss a lot of his ‘child’s’ rearing.

 “Ignis,” your father beckoned to the advisor, making Ignis bow to respects all the more.

 “Your Majesty?”

 “With the unforeseen events as of current, it falls on your hands to tend to the Princess more than ever and to be certain everything goes well in regards to the coming child if Prince Anduin is unable to be at her side.” He gestured in Ignis’ direction, continuing onward. “Should the Prince of Niflheim need to retreat to his land with the rising daemon threat before and or after the birth of this child, I require you to fill his role when it comes to the rearing of this baby till he is to return.”

 Ignis wasn’t sure what to say about that at first. Seemed something stunned him or made him worried somehow. “Your Majesty, I—.”

 Your father raised his hand to silence Ignis, making him retract any words he may continue with. “Obviously, the child will belong to Princess Y/N and Prince Anduin, so it best be made clear as you aid in raising this child that you are not seen as his father in the process.”

 The words felt like a sword to your heart as it did Ignis as well. You saw him flinch in the shadows of his respectful bow and his fist (again) curled heatedly at his side. Eyes batting back what you could only assume to be tears, he nodded in understanding. “Certainly, Your Grace,” he spoke almost at a whisper, the pain evident in his speech only to you it seemed as you were the one who knew him best. “I will see to it that Lady Y/N is treated well and prepared for the coming years ahead with her child.”

 When the meeting was dispersed, you found yourself leaving the throne room with Anduin as it felt more normal given the circumstances; though you wished you could have done so with Ignis. You knew none of that made him feel well emotionally and you really wanted to be at his side to support him even if he might be upset with you as of late.

 “I am sorry if that was very damning to your image,” you spoke to Anduin on your way back to your room. “It was my fault, and I shouldn’t have done it…” Your voice trailed off in a way, hating that you felt this was indeed your entire fault no matter how you chose to look at it. The desire to runaway again never felt so damning.

 “We all make mistakes, and I could have stopped it,” spoke Anduin in his own defense, not allowing you to take the full blame in the end. He smiled at you, that same charismatic smile he always had but for once in your life it didn’t make your heart flutter as it used to. It felt like any man sparing you a kind compliment on the street. “Let the world get in an uproar at how ‘improper’ it is all they want to. I think having a baby should be looked at as a blessing no matter how it happened.”

 You smiled, wanting to believe that to be true but the papers were loud and you knew you could read the headlines now. “I need to lie down for a bit, Anduin,” you sighed, hand to your head as the entire day was an emotional rollercoaster ride. “I also just need a moment alone with my thoughts, really.”

 He frowned in concern for you, hand to your cheek that felt again like an unwarranted touch by a stranger. You still tried to play it off as nothing upsetting with a forced smile and tender caress to the back of his hand. “If you need anything, Y/N, you know where to find me.”

 “Thank you, Anduin,” you parted with at a whisper, moving his touch from you and finding some bit of salvation in your bedroom.

 Hand to your aching heart at the words your father repeated about Ignis being not allowed to have his own child view him as its father you wished you had the strength to talk to Ignis about the meeting, but you found yourself feeling more drained than usual at the very thought. Hormones could be blamed but you were just feeling very tired as of late and a part of you wished you could close your eyes and never wake up again to avoid the consequences of your actions and the pain it was causing the one closest to you. Your back laid to rest against the door behind you, sliding down to the floor you brought your knees to your chest and sighed to yourself. There was so much you worried you had destroyed in the last several weeks…

 You remained asleep for awhile and even if the subtle knocking at your door woke you, you did your best to ignore it in hopes whoever it was would go away. However, you knew that knock and it was one belonging to Ignis, and you knew he wasn’t one so easy to be turned away as that; especially with all things considered. He was no doubt upset with you but that baby was his, and he would do whatever it took to be certain it grew well inside of you even if it meant breaking some protocols.

 The door moaned on its hinges and you cringed as your back was facing the bedroom entryway that Ignis had entered through. The sound of a rolling food cart being moved across the floor echoed quietly enough to your bedside till the silver instruments upon it found silence in a paused state. You heard him moving a few things about (opening lids and such that no doubt kept the food warm or cool when migrated from the kitchen), and you found reprieve in knowing it would be awhile yet till he bothered you.

 “Y/N,” Ignis called, shaking you gently at the shoulder. “My Lady, wake up.”

 Moaning softly in annoyance as you didn’t have the stomach for anything that you could outwardly smell on the tray already, you turned to acknowledge him with a weary look. “What is it…?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

 “You need to eat a bit more than what you had this morning at breakfast,” Ignis instructed as he offered his hand for you to take in trying to situate you better in bed if that was where you wished to remain instead of going to the small dining table you had in your bedroom near the balcony.

 Brow wrinkled, you noted the steamed vegetables, assorted berries in a dish, and specialty salmon soup dish that Ignis had prepared with milk. “I ate just fine, Ignis,” you insisted, not having the stomach to truly take in as much as all of that. If anything, your gut was in knots no thanks to everything that was happening as of late.

 Ignis sighed at your insisting otherwise, moving a spoon closer for you to take or a fork depending your preference of what you wanted to eat first. “Princess, if I must sit beside you and stare at you for twenty-four hours till you eat something, so be it,” he spoke as if to make it a challenge. “Or need be, if things take too long, I can try and make you eat it like a stubborn child that needs to be spoon fed, but I am not going to leave this room till you at least finish something on this cart.”

 Your head lowered at the thought, a harsh breath passing through your nostrils as you were more concerned about how Ignis was doing during all of this—hating that he kept bottling it all up and never truly speaking of it. “Ignis, really…how do you…feel about all of this?”

 Ignis’ lips parted, hands moving to fix his glasses upon his features as if to stall an answer. “What I feel is if you want to starve yourself, I am not going to let you as that is my child inside of you as well, and I care too much—.”

 “—I meant about the council meeting this morning,” you interrupted quickly with a shake of your head at his desire to seemingly dodge the comment. He paused in the wish to answer, body tensing a bit as even the subtlest of breaths could be seen from the expanding of his chest. “I…I know you’re upset with me, and I hate it’s been like this for awhile now when I am trying everything in my power to think of a way to make things right, but nothing seems to come.”

 He looked down at his hands and began to fix his gloves a bit. “I am staying my hand in the matter, Y/N, as I know you wish to do this without speaking the truth,” spoke Ignis after a pregnant pause that made the air stiff and nearly lifeless. “However, I will say that genuineness—while difficult to produce and stand in the light of—is usually the best course of action no matter the outcome.”

 Your brow wrinkled in concern at that thought. “You truly think so even if it means you being banished from here…?”

 Again, the advisor seemed to flinch as he folded his hands in his lap from where he sat at your bedside. “I too am pondering in the late hours, Lady Y/N,” he spoke in a whisper as if hating the thought that the truth would be more a prison sentence than give birth to freedom. “If anything should give rise to a solution I can be satisfied with, I will notify you.” He removed his glasses, cleaning off something that was on them that annoyed him with his shirt before letting them rest back at place. “As for being displeased with you, that has long since passed.” He turned to you, forcing a painful smile that was obvious given all the years you’d known him. “I let my feelings toy with the logical battle my heart and mind have in unison with you as of current. I’ve…been unhealthy in my devotion to you, and it was unprofessional of me to be so…”

 “What do you mean unhealthy?” you asked watching as he nodded towards the food on the tray.

 “Eat first, and I will explain, my Lady.”

 You knew he wasn’t keen on the idea of cold food and so with what strength you could bother to muster, you went for the berries first to pluck away at those to eat slowly to open your stomach for other ideas.

 Ignis waited, letting you at least try a few things on the plate before continuing his confession. “When you were ill and suffering horribly from the daemon attacks those few weeks or so when you ran from here in your attempt to be free from your obligations to the crown, I grew far too close to you in the grand scheme of things, Y/N.” He moved his lower lip inward, looking away in shame as he pressed his fingers together in thought. “The world disappeared to me as did all logic in terms of what was professional and what was folly…It made me think about what a family life would be like with you, how it felt like I was caring for my wife more than I was my Lady of the Crown.”

 You were confused. How did such a moment in your life change him so suddenly? “H-How did…?”

 “I did far more intimate things with you, Y/N, before our bodies touched in a sensual manner,” Ignis went onward to explain. “I was changing your bandages, feeding you as you were too weak to do so on your own, reading to you, bathing you and clothing you; especially when Rosemary was nowhere about after her family matters became a burden. I let all of that blur my vision and when it was over and you wanted to bed with me, I tried to ignore that this could be real…” His green eyes found the courage to find you though you could tell it was hard for him to look your way. “That’s why I acted a bit rigid that first time, if you noticed that is. I was trying to numb myself to the truth and keep this professional and as platonic as you wished it to be, but when I woke up with you beside me, basking in the afterglow of our union I awoke that dream into some detrimental reality…”

 “Ignis…” you spoke quietly, but he was determined to not let you finish before him.

 “And when you sent that text, I…I just…” He cringed, fingers curling inward at the painful reality that seemed to be crashing down around him. “I thought you truly loved me, and I was thinking—this is it…this is my fantasy turned tangible, and I can embrace it to my breast.” He gasped at the memory (perhaps feeling it to be stupid now). “She really loves me after all this time and doesn’t see me as just her advisor—some servant boy bred into a house of royal retainers who was shipped off to her side to bend at her every call.”

 You shook your head in disgust at how he was feeling in regards to being beside you. “Ignis, you were never ‘just my advisor’ or some servant either in my heart. Maybe I acted coldly in those few years after the festival when I was younger but before then, you were my friend, and as I’m doing my best to mend my mistakes with our friendship, I still see you as the most loyal and loving person I have in my life.” Your own heart began to ache as recently it felt like you had betrayed him…Like you had cheated on the love of your life as every moment with your betrothed you found yourself wishing you were with Ignis instead.

 But should you even say it? Ignis was acting as though he was wishing he could sober up from the family life he had hoped to make with you, and you didn’t want to hurt that.

 “Just know that…things can change, and you’ll always have a special place in my heart,” you murmured between the two of you.

 Ignis offered a genuine smile at the reminder. “A pleasant thought that, my Lady. I will keep it in mind.”

 Trying to bring a bit of lightheartedness back to the heavy atmosphere, you gave a mocking grin while finishing a bit of the vegetables next after feeling you had enough of the berries. “So you were being perverted when bathing me then?”

 The advisor jerked his head back at the playful accusation before giving you a hard, stern stare that showed in some way he too was also mocking you for your remark as it did eventually fall into a more relaxed yet sarcastic look. “I was professional when it dealt with such personally matters, my Lady. Even a husband can look at a wife in peril and still treat her with dignity in such situations.”

 “Good to know you have some self control,” you teased finishing up the meal best you were able to ease Ignis’ concerns when it came to your health and the baby’s.

 ------

 The early weeks were long and exhausting. Sometimes you wanted to eat everything while others you were intent to ignore food and just want to lie in bed with the heaviness of minor depression settling in on you. Ignis, of course, wouldn’t sit idly by as you tried to waste away and let it be over and always moved you to your feet whether you wanted to or not.

 Honestly, the newspapers did little in aiding with a better mood. Once news got around of your unplanned pregnancy with your betrothed, gossip spread through the print like wildfire and after awhile of it upsetting you, Ignis saw to it that you never got your hands on any of it again. He even removed the radio from your room so you wouldn’t hear the hurtful and upsetting words spared by people you were sworn to protect and lead.

 “Come on, Princess,” Ignis sighed in concern as you tried to fight him yet again in getting up. It was nearly eleven in the morning, quite late for you as you were usually asked to be up by at least eight. “You have to eat breakfast. You cannot keep trying to skip meals when you’re expecting!” He was waiting by the bed, tapping his foot in impatience with his arms crossed (from what you could mentally gather as he always stood that way when he was cross at you).

 “I don’t want to deal with the world today, Iggy,” you groaned, burying your head under your pillow to block him out. “I’m tired of hearing how pissed everyone is at me…Even the maids gossip about me like I’m not there!”

 “Why you let those women push you around when you’re of higher rank than them is beyond me,” Ignis sighed with a shake of his head. Since he was above them in terms of status, it was usually him that voiced his disapproval of their methods or words. The first you ever see him lose it with them was when he was eighteen and they got furious at you for causing a slight tear in a royal ballroom gown that was expensive to have be made and tended to in terms of cleaning. It made you cry to the point he stood in and protected you from their harsh lectures.

 “They were the ones that raised me for a time, so I guess I just see them as parental figures I shouldn’t raise my voice at,” you whimpered not sure why yourself as it was obvious that you overpowered them in terms of status, but you lacked the gull to stand up to them and their harsh ways of raising you.

 The pillow was removed from your head, tossed to the side as Ignis grabbed onto your shoulder to guide you onto your back before ushering you to sit upright. “You are going to join me for breakfast, Y/N, even if I have to drag you there one way or another,” he insisted, pulling the covers off next before urging your feet to the floor. “We have to meet with your midwife that was hired for you so that we know what to expect in the coming months.”

 Her name was Annalyn and beyond the fact she was praised in regards to serving royalty with aiding them in birthing their children, that’s all you really knew.

 As Ignis continued to try and get you to stand on your feet, you growled in annoyance as every little thing was nearly easy to set you off lately. “I can do it myself!” you shouted, pulling your hands from him and wiggling free of his grasp.

 “Calm yourself, Lady Y/N,” Ignis instructed, noticing the flushed look to your expression. “You cannot let your emotions get the better of you during such times or you could put yourself and the baby at risk.”

 “Twenty weeks along, and I feel miserable as fuck,” you grumbled, moving your hands to your face to wipe away the exhaustion. “I hate you for doing this to me.”

 Ignis could tell it was a playful spat of annoyance in some regard but he still shrugged with his arms falling to his sides. “Yes, yes, I am such a horrible individual to do something so careless. You can scream at me later for it, my Lady.” He whispered the words, moving you onward to the door so the two of you could sit down at the dining hall to talk with Annalyn who had been waiting for you to be decent enough to grace the room.

 You felt some small rejuvenation with milk in your possession and food to fill your stomach that you hadn’t even thought about it being empty as it was. The midwife let you eat, at least, and the two of you seem to exchange sizing glances. She was a redhead, blue-eyes and wore glasses with a rather modern look to her attire that appeared quite casual (weirdly). You were expecting something a bit more formal or maybe something that reminded you of a hospital. Her long hair was pinned back with a decorative hair comb, teal in color with bits of a golden boarder to it. At first glance, she looked to be in her mid to late forties, but you couldn’t say. Looks could be deceiving.

 “Most of what I already know in regards to your pregnancy, Lady Y/N, is all hearsay,” she began, hands clasped upon the dining table. “Care to tell me how far along you are, or do you know yourself?”

 Swallowing the eggs in your mouth harshly, you glanced up at Ignis and then back to Annalyn. “I’m…uh…ten weeks,” you lied horribly as you didn’t want people to know the truth about how long you had been pregnant as some of it wouldn’t add up.

 The midwife seemed to look to Ignis at that point instead of you. “Has she been eating alright, Mr…?” She stalled, looking for a name as she wasn’t properly introduced to him earlier.

 “Ignis Scientia, ma’am,” he answered with a respectful bow, arm crossed over his chest to appear more regal in the matter. “You can just call me Ignis if you prefer.” Ignis straightened back to attention, arms to his sides. “As for her dietary habits, I’ve been monitoring them best I am able to be certain she and the baby are healthy.”

 “I will leave with you a list of things that is best to cook then as well as a schedule that may suffice in spreading meals apart.” Annalyn seemed to make a note of it somewhere on the pad of paper in front of her but you didn’t care to try and even read what she was truly writing upside down as you sat opposite her. “You are her advisor, are you not?”

 Again, Ignis nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I am the one who tends to her daily routine and her meals.”

 Her brow shrugged as if not expecting that response but making a note of it anyway. “I will see to it to consult with you about a few things in private then, Mr. Scientia, before I take my leave of the day.” Her blue eyes looked about in interest. “And the father? Where is Prince Anduin?”

 You flinched, lowering the spoon of oatmeal from your mouth ever slightly as you weren’t sure how to respond to that with the heaviness in your heart. You wanted to say the real father was right beside you, but you stilled your tongue. You didn’t know this woman that well and for all you knew, she could just be another gossiper. “Prince Anduin is sadly…indisposed as of current.”

 “Oh?”

 You didn’t mean to make it sound so heavy but the Prince had returned back to his people in order to protect them against the growing daemon threat. It hurt you to even have to watch him leave as he seemed so willing to depart to protect people from this growing threat and leave you—a woman pregnant with his child—to be alone in a palace waiting for his return. A part of you was wondering if you even wanted this life for your baby. Would this be it? Would it be you would soon be too busy to even raise your own son or daughter and even Ignis would become too burdened by royal duties with you to even do the same?

 You didn’t want your child in the hands of those maids. They were dreadful women…

 “He merely returned to Gralea, ma’am,” answered Ignis in your stead. “He left a few days ago to aid his people in the fight for their capital as the daemon hordes have become restless and ever more aggressive than before.”

 “I am so sorry to hear that, Lady Y/N,” Annalyn responded, shifting the glasses up the slope of her nose. “I wish him well, and I pray he returns with the gods’ speed and good graces at his back.”

 “I thank you,” you said softly, tapping your fork on the napkin nearby in thought.

 “I am uncertain what all your parents have told you, Lady Y/N, but to my understanding they were keen on an at home birth, obviously,” the midwife went on to explain, shifting through her papers to find the right documents needed. “They also wanted a more natural birthing process.”

 “Natural…?” you asked, not liking where that was going.

 “There will be no medicines involved and you will be alert during the process, to move and get comfortable as you see fit during labor and delivery,” Annalyn went on to explain as you were new to this. “The father can aid you if he is around, but that is the only one allowed to do so unless you find someone a bit more comfortable to step in for him. His Majesty didn’t give me a list of suitables here, so I leave that up to you.”

 “Wha-What about Ignis?” you asked quickly, trying not to panic over the idea of no epidural at least given the horrors you’d read and heard about pregnancies.

 “Your advisor?” the midwife asked in confusion, moving her glasses up the slope of her nose yet again. You watched as the two exchanged glances, Ignis trying to remain professional in being looked at as not apart of the equation when that was his child. She seemed to stare at him long and hard for some reason and it was after an uncomfortable moment of silence she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the papers before her. “Very well. If that is your wish.”

 “No medicines?” you hissed in an annoyed whisper to Ignis, turning to him best you were able. “Not even a fucking epidural—are they serious!”

 “Calm down, my Lady,” Ignis spoke quietly back, hand upon the middle of your back.

 “Now then,” Annalyn interrupted, folding her hands upon the paperwork she laid to rest on the tabletop. “I will be set up in your bedroom, Lady Y/N, and wait for you there to begin an examination to be certain everything is in order. When you’re finished with your meal, we will meet there.” She grabbed her bag beside her, taking to her paperwork and heading out of the dining hall to do so.

 “You need to relax, Y/N,” Ignis whispered closer to your ear as he leaned in towards you so the words wouldn’t carry. “It will be alright. I will be right there beside you.”

 “Yeah, but it’s going to fucking hurt…” you reminded him, cringing at the very thought already even if it was months away. “I want something to ease my pain.”

 “I will consult Ms. Annalyn about it,” insisted Ignis as he gestured to the plate you hadn’t finished. “Now, hurry up and eat. We don’t want to continue to keep the woman waiting.”

 While Ignis would be allowed to be there during the labor process when that was to come, he was asked to stay outside your bedroom when it dealt with the exams the midwife was to perform. It was unnerving, really and it became even more so as the silence that filled the room made it feel very suffocating.

 “And you said you were ten weeks, Lady Y/N…?” Annalyn questioned, finishing the exam.

 The uncertainty in her voice made your heart race, it was so loud you could feel and hear it beating in your ears. “Yes, I am,” you lied still, not wanting to cause a bigger problem with how vicious the newspapers had been lately.

 She removed the gloves on her hands, putting them off to the side with a confused expression still. “Seems more to me that you’re double that—at least twenty. Did anybody tell you this, or were you just guessing?”

 You gathered your breath, wishing Ignis was here to help deflect the comment as you were lacking a good answer. “You’re not going to tell my parents any of this, are you…?”

 Annalyn gave you a quizzical look, making sure all of her medical instruments were in order on the cart near the bed. “Everything here between us is confidential, my Lady; unless it is something that needs to be said to the father or his Majesty in regards to your health or the baby’s. If I spread any news of this to the public or even the servants, I could be prosecuted not just by your family but by my own superiors.”

 You closed your eyes tightly, hoping you weren’t about to make another error in judgment. “It…the baby’s not Anduin’s…It’s Ignis’…”

 The midwife looked at you in shock but it eventually fell to a weird smirk you couldn’t decipher. “I had a feeling something was a bit off with him as he looked like he was going to strangle me no thanks in kind to my choice of words during that conversation at the table,” she chuckled, shifting her glasses upon her features. “I can see why you’ve wanted to keep this all secret, Lady Y/N. I can only imagine the uproar it would cause.”

 “Yeah, and my life is already a huge mess,” you sighed, reclining back on the bed as it felt like a weight was lifted just telling one other person.

 “In the end, I guess I chose my wording properly.” Annalyn took to her feet, preparing her gear for sterilization in protective containers. “I did say the father could be present to aid you during delivery, so I suppose it will be easy to see to it that Mr. Scientia is indeed there if things go accordingly.” She took to her feet, letting you find rest on your side after guiding you into the position knowing it would be better suited for you and the baby. “I will speak with him about your diet, daily exercise and the like before taking my leave for the day, my Lady. I suggest you rest for now.”

 “Thank you,” you praised, finding the covers comforting after an annoyingly early rise into medical care. Honestly, you only found comfort for a few minutes until you heard the door open and close. You didn’t bother looking as you knew it had to be Ignis.

 The sound of papers moving to your nearby nightstand filled the air till silence overcame the air once more. Ignis’ gentle touch tapped you upon your shoulder to gain your attention for a mere moment, and so you rolled over with a weary hum at what he wanted. “I am to inform you that you need to gain more weight, Y/N.” He moved the sleeve of his jacket up just a bit to look at his watch and the time. “In three hours I’ll return with something that should aid with that.”

 You groaned, rolling your head back over to get comfortable again. “Why? I am already as big as a damn blimp…”

 Ignis shook his head at your reaction, merely rubbing your side to try and relax you. “You need to try and gain at least two added pounds every week for the next half of your pregnancy,” Ignis instructed. “Annalyn expressed her concerns in you being underweight for how far along you were.”

 You merely blew an audible, annoyed sigh upward as you hardly felt like eating anymore than you had that day. “Ignis, I am really not hungry,” you insisted with a moan, hands to your face to rub the exhaustion away a bit. “Can’t I just wait for dinner or something?”

 He shook his head. “You allow your upset in the media to change your views on how you feel about eating, Lady Y/N, and you cannot let that endanger you or our baby,” sighed your advisor as his palm found rest upon your stomach. “Ignore them, my Princess. They will say any foul thing just for the sake of money as the lot of them are dreadful. People have children out of wedlock every day, but because they do not sit upon the throne or are destined for it, their flaws are hardly put into print in comparison to yours.”

 “Because I have to lead them somehow, that’s why. What kind of a good ruler do I make when I’ve made this huge fuck-up?” you asked wishing you could denounce your title and leave your station. If you had a younger or older sibling that would possibly be far easier to do.

 “It makes you human and relatable to most,” Ignis whispered to you, trying to get you comfortable once more under the covers. “The media does not speak for everyone in how they feel about this situation. Now, get some rest, and I will return shortly.”

 “Did you speak to her about the epidural at least?” you asked, not liking the thought of having to go through that process without medicine to numb the pain a bit.

 “Unfortunately, Lady Y/N, it seems to be a royal tradition of sorts with the rulers of Eos that carries through in most generations,” he answered. “They don’t like the idea of the mother ingesting medicines that could otherwise harm the natural process or the baby, so most of them go through with a natural birthing process. As I am, I cannot intervene with royal tradition. I will be there beside you as will Annalyn, and we will do our best to distract your mind from the discomfort.”

 “But what if something goes wrong? What if I tear or something?” A slight panic began to rise up at the thought as you read how painful that could be and it was an aftermath sentence too that would be hard to ignore.

 “Shhh, shhh,” Ignis whispered to try and settle your rising concerns, his hand escorting your head back down to the pillow again as you were trying to look over your shoulder at him from where you were attempting to rest. “We have at least twenty more weeks to think about that, but for now, try not to dwell on it too much, my Lady. It’s not good for your health.”

 Sighing through your nostrils, you did your best to try and relax but the very idea about what was to come felt so close and was now a horror in your mind you.

 ------

 Walks (and jogs) about the inner garden seemed to be the only daily exercise you could afford to give yourself. If the citizens weren’t so against your unplanned pregnancy you would have taken to the streets with Ignis instead to try and get exercise there but you’d rather keep from the public eye till at least the end of your pregnancy and Ignis even saw to that as well as he wanted to keep you healthy for the sake of a better delivery. After awhile, walking was becoming a bit of a burden, so he merely aided you about the halls of the palace to make sure you didn’t continue to lie in bed all day.

 Eating was still a challenge for you (and a battle for Ignis) most days, but you couldn’t help it with the fear raking through you and the constant whispers of the servants and the media that still at times found their way to your ears. If Ignis ever caught the maids taking time to speak of such uncouth things, he wouldn’t hesitate to respond and urge them to make themselves useful and do something else beyond indulge in petty gossip.

 As you found refuge in Ignis’ bedroom at times, you relaxed on his bed trying to read most days while he would either work on cleaning his living area or read beside you. He kept whatever personal experiment he was working on to himself and away from your eyes whenever nearby. Given how weird he was acting, you assumed it was something for his baby but that was all you really had in mind as you were too focused on other things.

 “Did you decide yet on what you wanted to do for the natural birth, Lady Y/N?” Ignis asked as he found a book that grabbed his interest lining his shelf, heading to the bed with it as he thumbed through the first few pages to be certain he hadn’t already read it.

 You sighed, lowering your own novel to your lap as you knew it would be any day now that you could give birth. Annalyn had offered what she read most royals in the Altissia family line usually did in terms of a natural birth—a water birth given the ties to Leviathan and praising the goddess.

 Ignis seemed interested in it but that could have been the history in it more than the actual act. You weren’t sure. Seemed in ancient times, the royals would do such a thing near the shoreline itself so as to let the afterbirth of a newborn sate the hungry and often angry goddess in terms of her desire to feed on humans if they lacked expressing their love and respect to her. Giving birth in her waters was considered a show of such respect and while angering and showing contempt to a goddess was the last thing you wanted on your plate, you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

 “She said you wouldn’t be at the waters,” Ignis reminded you as your silence was becoming deafening in the room. “She would have the servants bring water from her place of slumber here to fill the tub, and you would be in peace.”

 Hands to your face, you shook your head. “I don’t know, Iggy,” you groaned. “What do you think?”

 “It’s not my body, so I feel it isn’t my choice to make, Princess,” he reminded you as he sat down on the bedside. “But from what Annalyn was saying, the water could sooth you and ease most of the pain.” He shrugged his brow, glancing away briefly. “Also, you would be benefitting from Leviathan’s grace, and it is possible our child will be blessed by her in coming years.”

 Your hands moved to your stomach, letting the child move about as it so pleased no matter how alien it felt to you. “And you’ll still be with me…?” you asked nervously, feeling you could at least handle it just fine if he were there.

 “Annalyn expressed I would have a far more supportive role beside you if you did a water birth. It would be more intimate in a sense, but that is up to you, Lady Y/N.”

 Twisting your mouth to the side in thought, you reclined back against the headboard. “Alright,” you whispered as a response, scrunching up your features as if to hope you wouldn’t regret it. “I will do a water birth then.”

 “I will inform her then, but you need to tell us when you start feeling in pain, Y/N.” His hand found yours, holding it tightly as if to plead you not to be foolish. “I know you’ll be a stubborn one and shoulder it best you can, but the moment you think you’re having contractions, inform us, and Annalyn will get the servants to bring water from her shrine up here.”

 Playfully, you tapped Ignis’ cheek with your palm as if to threaten to knock sense into him. “I am a huge baby when it comes to pain. You know that. I won’t hesitate to say something.” Feeling the baby move abruptly again, you flinched from the unexpected shift. “God, it’s been restless all damn day.”

 Ignis chuckled. “Probably wants to get out just as badly as you want it out.”

 “I’ll be so happy when this is over,” you confessed with a relieved sigh of what was to come even if dreading it as well. “Want to feel it?”

 Ignis hadn’t bothered to do so as he didn’t think it was right to ask, perhaps, given his station in your life. “Well, I uh…”

 Seeing him stutter at the thought you shook your head at his embarrassment. Taking his nearest hand, you removed the glove he wore before letting his hand lay to rest on your swollen stomach where you could feel the infant moving. The light kick against you made you flinch for a moment not expecting it to have that much force behind it but the relaxed feel of Ignis’ fingers sprawled upon you made the tension disappear. “There, did you feel it?” you asked but honestly you hardly needed to do that. After the kick Ignis had relaxed his hand on you as he felt more comfortable in trying to commune with the child that was very much inside of you and a smile formed ever slightly at the warming connection.

 “Yes,” he said quietly between you, leaning forward to kiss upon the spot where the child was being restless. “Soon we will meet, little one.”

 Sleeping was a challenge with how far long you were and after a few more hours in the day you began to feel slight pain in your lower back and like you were having cramps for the first time in forever. Annalyn was notified by Ignis, allowing her the time she needed to get the servants to fetch the water as needed from about Altissia and from Leviathan’s worshipping areas.

 “Just remain calm, Y/N,” Ignis insisted, keeping a hold of your hand as the pain only began to worsen in the coming hour to where you were begging for anything to make it cease.

 “By the gods, this fucking hurts…!” you whimpered, putting his hand into a bit of a death grip that he didn’t seem to mind. He merely responded with a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

 Since Annalyn was in another part of the palace, Ignis knew he could only call her by phone at the current time to see what else he could do. He was frantic, you could tell, but still trying his best to remain the calmer of you both. “Annalyn, the pain seems to be getting worse for her.” He paused, shouldering his phone and using his cheek to keep it steady as he switched hands as you were apparently hurting the one. “Is there anything I can do to lessen it for her?”

 You could hear her respond but you didn’t catch the words right away as you were far too focused on the agony ripping through you—something you hadn’t experienced in nearly a year when comparing it to the daemon attacks.

 “Alright,” he said quickly, hanging up the phone and putting it on the nightstand before moving to you to try and get you to stand. “Come on, love—let’s try and see about another position till the tub is ready.”

 You didn’t want to move at all. The pain was constant in some areas even if separated a bit given the early stages, and all you wanted to do was remain in bed till it was over. “Ignis, please…!” you begged not wanting to get to your feet but he was intent on the idea.

 Letting you lean on him, he walked you over to a nearby wall and ushered your palms slightly above your head. “Try this one for a spell, my Lady,” he insisted, holding your stomach in support while his other hand urged your head down just a bit. “Just breathe deep and slow. It might help.”

 “Nothing helps!” you insisted with a quivering hiss from the horrific throbbing trying to find some relief in his touch and presence alone.

 His words were warm and eager near your cheek as he continued to keep a gentle hold on the underside of your stomach from where he stood behind you. “Because you are panicking, my Lady,” he lightly chastised not wanting to hear you fight him on this if it meant your wellbeing and comfort. “Now, calm down and try to relax.”

 Trying to breathe in slowly, you rested your forehead against the wall to see if maybe that might even aid in anything. Honestly, the cool marble was a bit relaxing so you would take it. “You’re panicking too, you know,” you reminded him in a low tone as you focused on your breathing.

 “If I panic that’s another story than the mother trying to birth another life in this world.” You heard him sigh behind you as if to relax himself with his own breathing exercises. He let the room fall to silence, his hands eventually trying to massage out the pain from your spine as his thumbs lightly rotated at the top and a bit near the bottom where it was starting to bother you. “How are you feeling now, love?”

 You ignored the unprofessional slip in his name to you, oddly finding comfort in it. Breathing heavily and deeply still, you nodded a bit. “Still hurts like hell, and it feels like it’s getting worse—those contractions feel like they’re getting closer together.”

 “Annalyn should be done any moment,” Ignis reminded you as he kissed an exposed area near the back of your shoulder. “Just keep calm. If you want to try another position, let me know.”

 It took a lot longer than you were anticipating as Annalyn had to distil the water to make sure it was clean for the situation at hand. It got to the point your pain was so overwhelming you had to beg Ignis to let you at least lie down again, to which he relented and escorted you back to the bed though remained at your side. Kneeling at your bedside, he kept your hand within his while the other fondled with your tresses to try and sooth you and occupy your mind elsewhere.

 “It’s going to be okay, Princess,” he whispered reassuringly, kissing you upon your balmy forehead.

 “By the Astrals, I want painkillers or something…!” you whined, clenching onto his hold tightly as another spasm of discomfort shot through you.

 The door soon opened and Ignis stood to attention as quickly as possible noting that it was Annalyn. “We’re ready,” she spoke in a hurried tone motioning towards Ignis. “Get her in the wheelchair, and we’ll get her down to the bathroom.”

 Ignis hurried over to the old wheelchair that was used when you were injured and brought it quickly to the bedside to usher you into it with the aid of the midwife. It was an agonizing few minutes that felt much longer to you as you were ushered into the washroom and soon stripped of your clothing as you didn’t mind the prospects of being nude since Ignis had already seen you as such before and the midwife was a woman.

 “Let’s move her in,” Annalyn instructed, moving one arm over her shoulders as Ignis did the other side to get you to at least stand before getting your body only part of the way submerged given the process involved.

 The water was at least a lukewarm, taking away the thought of pain for a mere moment for you as you tried to withstand another painful contraction that forced you to scream as you gripped the sides of the tub. “Make it stop…! Please, make it stop…!” you begged wishing to be in the daemon attack torture stage than this given the comparison.

 Ignis helped you into a sitting upright position as Annalyn was guiding him on what to do as far as support was concerned. “Stay calm, Y/N, and breathe,” he instructed patiently, perhaps reminded himself of the same process as you could tell his voice was heavy with anxiety as well.

 “I am!” you practically screamed in retaliation though it couldn’t have been far from the truth. You wanted it over. You wanted the baby out of you as fear was beginning to set in with how long this was all taking in your mind.

 “If you think it is best, you can strip down to something more comfortable and join her from behind, Mr. Scientia,” Annalyn advised as she urged you to push long and hard after one contraction obviously had you in its grip.

 His hold tightened on yours, letting you release the agonizing tension through the means of holding onto him if it made you feel better. “If it comes to that, Annalyn, I will do so, but I would rather see how this pans out first.”

 There were moments the pain got so excruciating you had to stop and try to breathe for a moment before regaining your strength in the idea of continuing. While the water did help a bit in alleviating the discomfort of active labor, it was still quite difficult to ignore all together. It was what felt like an eternity of distressing ache till finally the aftermath yielded the soft cries of a child when moved to the water’s surface.

 “How is it? Is the baby alright!” Ignis asked while you felt the cool touch of his palm grace your cheek to try and sooth you from the outcome.

 Annalyn tended to the infant before ushering it towards your arms when you showed you were fully awake and functioning just fine. “He’s doing just fine. Do you think you can hold him, my Lady?” she asked, not releasing the little boy just yet till she saw you could handle it on your own.

 “A boy…?” you asked wearily with a smile as you opened your arms to welcome him into your arms while Ignis supported you just underneath your embrace to allow the two of you a better look. To say he looked special would merely be you basking in the afterglow of your success as honestly he was the same as any other baby you laid witness to, but the difference was he was yours. He was too young to make sense of how he’d look when he was older, but for now, you did notice he had blond hair—something that would throw off still who the father was.

 Regardless of him having to be shoved to the shadows through the boy’s life, Ignis still smiled brightly with a quivering breath of delight as you held your son close to your breast. “Hey there, sweetheart,” he spoke quietly to his infant son who was quick to latch onto Ignis’ index finger when he felt it touching his cheek. The hand was so small it hardly even reached around the width of Ignis’ finger and the advisor was fine to relax his touch at the baby’s response.

 “Did you think of any names for the genders you may get?” Annalyn asked, working on wiping down the child when she found the time to do so.

 Ignis turned to look from you to the midwife as it wasn’t something either of you discussed. “Uh…n-no, we didn’t—.”

 “Ignitus,” you interrupted causing Ignis to snap his attention to you. “I wanted to name it after his father if it were a boy as he’s done so much for me.”

[beautifulduckweed]

AO3 Exchange: Likes and DNWs

Hello! I’m beautifulduckweed on AO3. If you’re reading this because we’ve been matched for a fic exchange, I’d like to assure you that I’m excited as fuck to read whatever you’re gonna write for me.

💖🥰 Some things I like 🥰💖

Crackfic and mashups. No premise to stupid, no crossover too incongruous. Listen, recently someone in another exchange requested John Wick x Marie Kondo and I have legit lost sleep thinking about that.

Sexytimes. Please note that I absolutely do not require sex! Some of my favorite exchange gifts have featured absolutely zero sex on page. But if the smutty muse strikes—well, far be it for me to stop you. My tolerance is…high. No, higher. No, no, higher than that. Look, I’ve been a denizen of the Internet long enough that I subscribed to porn newsgroups, OK? My constitution is CAST IRON. I especially enjoy service topping, orgasm control (delayed? denied? forced? ruined? YES), femdoms, people coming untouched, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, improbable feats of horny stamina, people losing control while fucking, gangbangs, and threesomes/moresomes/orgies. I also really love first times, and people finally dropping their defenses and allowing themselves to be vulnerable during sex, and the STOP MAKING LOVE TO ME WHEN WE’RE FUCKING trope. I do have a small list of smut no’s in the Do Not Wants section.

Tropes. Some of my fave tropes are idiots to lovers (idiot4idiot4eva), friends to lovers, forced proximity, cramming attractive people into corsets, drag queen AUs, SFF AUs of every stripe (daemon? Pacific Rim? Superhero/supervillain? Vampires? Inception? Yes yes yessss). I absolutely adore the golden retriever/hissy feral cat dynamic. I also like two soft-hearted dinguses doing their best and trying to treat each other right. And ain’t nothin’ wrong with enemies who are obsessed with each other who OOPS realize their preoccupation may be more than mere antipathy.

I’d also like to note that much as I love a fic that’s like, a trope confetti cannon, I also really love having tropes (and expectations) subverted. Like, take your standard daemon AU. What would happen if the main character and their daemon…didn’t like each other? What if they were, in fact, mortal enemies? It would be so fucked! I would love to read about it!!!

Horror and gore. I love scary stories and horror; I have a really high tolerance for gore. If you want to lean into action sequences, gore, and body horror, I am (with a few exceptions, which I’m gonna list in the DNWs) gonna be totally cool with it. I basically jumped straight from Enid Blyton to Stephen King. My childhood media consumption was very normal why do you ask 😊

And other stuff. If you want to fuck around with the format of the fic, play around with structure, format, voice, POV, all of it, please do. Here for any weird shit you care to toss my way.

I also really love having my sense of what’s real and what’s not messed with. Like, is it ever possible to have a fully reliable narrator? What is the nature of truth and reality anyway? What role does the overall narratorial voice or framing device of the story play in our perception of the story? I regret to inform you that I’m writing this 100% sober; this is just how my brain is all the time.

😭🚫Do Not Wants 🚫😭

Pet death. I am totally fine with, like, random rabbit needs to be killed for dinner while out in the woods, or oh no, we have to defend ourselves from a charging hippo or hostile lizard from outer space.

Animal cruelty. Brief mentions of stuff happening in the past or whatever are fine; seeing an animal tortured on-page is a big no.

Major character death. Random minions, as always, can be sacrificed to the storytelling gods. NOTE: Major character undeath fine as long as the character retains like, their personality and wits. So, ghosts and vampires: fine; mindless zombie: no.

Kink and smut no’s: I’m not into bloodplay, scat, vomit or piss. Please no noncon/dubcon where a woman is the victim. NOTE: sex pollen scenarios whereby everybody loses their mind simultaneously is totally fine, as is Fuck or Die.

Unhappy/hopeless endings. Bittersweet is fine; endings where it’s clear a cost has been paid and everybody’s changed etc. etc. also fine, but like, please don’t leave the characters absolutely miserable or unrelentingly tormented by their demons (unless the demons are sexy and the torment is also sexy).

🍪🧁Treats 🧁🍪

Are very yes. Love me some treats!!!

[cupnoodle-queen]

CHASING SUNS: Chapter 3 First Light

2,538 words Couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d hammer out the next chapter. It’s a longer one! Keeping it all below the cut for potential spoilers. Tagging fellow soulmate AU writers and bb’s @nifwrites and @blindbae <3

Cam bid a much-anticipated goodbye to Lestallum as Greyson drove through the security gates and onto the highway heading north, en route to Pallareth Pass. She was a child when she last came through the area, on a fishing trip at the Vesperpool with her aunt and uncle. The long drive made her carsick back then; today, she was sick with uncertainty. Had she made the right choice?

Greyson seemed to sense her concern from the driver’s seat. “Stop worrying, Cam. Nolan started out right where you are. You’ll get some training with different weapons and it’s good gil.”

She didn’t respond, her eyes on the trees as the truck slowed to handle the winding roads of the pass, daemons frolicking in their apocalyptic wasteland in the clearings and on the opposite side of the road. She rubbed her soulmate marking under her shirt, which hadn’t stopped prickling her skin since she got off the phone earlier that evening. It felt like an allergic reaction to something though the surface seemed otherwise unaffected, the same pigment of the marking slightly darker than her beige skin.

“I know,” the lightbulb in Greyson’s head went off, “I’ll take you out on some small hunts, maybe some lesser daemons or something.”

“You still hunt?” Cam asked, shifting in her seat. “I thought you were on provisioner duty.”

“Yeah, I still got it in me.” He chuckled and patted his slight beer belly. “Little weight never slowed me down, I’m as good as the day they hired me.”

Cam frowned. “You’d do that for me, help me train? What about the supply runs?”

Greyson shrugged as the truck entered a tunnel. He flicked on the high beams. “I’ll figure something out. Owe it to my best bud to get his girl on her feet.” He offered a sincere smile; Cam wished she had one in her to return the favor.

Staring at the tunnel walls made Cam’s stomach turn so she opted to check her phone, flicking her thumb back and forth between screens absently. She made an attempt at small talk. “How many hunters are at HQ?”

“Hmm,” Greyson gave it some consideration, counting in his head. “Say ‘bout thirty, it’s always changing though.”

Always a turnover rate, Cam thought to herself. Worst case scenario, she would fall victim to a hunt and be free to join Nolan wherever he was in the afterlife. Probably helping his father fix up the motorcycle that collected dust in his parent’s garage, if given the choice.

They cleared the tunnel and the vehicle slowed down, crawling passed a guard’s post. Cam checked out the area from the passenger’s seat as Greyson looked for a place to park. The rock shelf overhead gave the feeling of enclosure in the outdoors, spotlights strung on either entrance to the base underneath, a death trap for daemons and intruders. Underneath the stone roof, lighting was much easier on the eyes as buildings came into focus. Shops and weapon vendors lined most of the far wall, while an area dedicated to target practice was staged nearby, a younger recruit firing off a crossbow at a dummy from a distance.

The same general store Cam recognized from her childhood was still standing, though having been souped-up with armor and first aid supplies instead of advertising a new flavor of moogle pops. Next to it a massive bulletin board was erected, countless pins of available hunts and daemon sightings plastered to it, waiting to be eliminated. A younger boy was stapling new ones as Greyson drove by, the stack of flyers in his hand considerably thick.

Greyson pulled into a spot next to the barracks, a group of hunters hyping themselves up nearby. It sounded like they were heading out for a behemoth hunt. Correction, a pack of behemoths. Cam’s skin crawled at the idea. They passed by the truck just as she hopped out.

Something tugged at her middle, like a rope tied around her midsection. She snapped her head in the direction of the pull and her heart caught fire.

There he was, like a light in the dark. She had seen the sun for the first time in years; the man she’d met in the market that day, the man who had the same mark on his hip as her. Said mark had gone from tingling, to blazing the moment her eyes landed on him. Cam felt an almost irresistible pull towards the stranger but she steeled herself, digging the heels of her boots into the dirt, one hand on the passenger door to keep from heading his way. Her thoughts were screaming, convinced this wasn't actually happening.

He must have heard those thoughts, because he located her without issue. He was caught off guard and as if not in control of his own body, took two steps towards her before he stopped himself, large hands balled into fists, lips parted and thick brows gathered in confusion.

Try as she did, Cam couldn’t take her eyes off of her soulmate. From the looks of it, the he was in the same boat.

Seconds passed before one of the hunters tapped the man on the shoulder, taking more than one attempt to grab his attention. He reluctantly turned away, following the other hunters into a military vehicle, which took off in the opposite direction.

For the first time in almost a minute, Cam exhaled. It felt like her hip was on singed, suitable for the sun shape marking but distracting her from everything.

“Cam, you good?”

Greyson showed concern for the woman. She blinked for the first time in a while before looking at him. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

“I should introduce you to the head honchos,” he noted, leading her over to one of the buildings. All the while she tried to listen to his words, they might as well have gone in one ear and out the other. Cam’s thoughts were a whirlwind. Why’d he have to be here? Why’d he have to even be alive still? Why couldn’t he have been killed long ago, rendering her sun-shaped marking useless?

And why’d it have to be someone so intimidating?

Greyson knocked on the door to the office and waited. A rough-looking man opened the door and welcomed them inside. “Greyson, good to see you, man.”

“Thanks.” Greyson made introductions. “Cam, this is Dave Auburnbrie, Dave this is Cam Reynolds.” His voice dropped somewhat. “She’s uhh, Nolan’s girl.”

Dave leaned against a desk, his face showing remorse. “Please to meet you. Sorry about Nolan, he was a hell of a good hunter. Smart kid, sharp.” He looked to his feet. “Really made a difference around here.”

A few seconds passed in uncomfortable silence before Greyson spoke. “The Marshal around?”

“He was helping Dino with triage intake, handful of recruits decided to take on a Daemonwall. One of them didn’t make it.”

“Shit.” Greyson exhaled, hands on his hips. “Cam wants to become a hunter, or help out around here, whichever is most required.” He looked at her for approval and she nodded.

Dave’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, that’d be swell. I’ll have to have you fill out some particulars, just some personal info and we’ll have your tags made up right away.” He handed a clipboard, pen and waiver over to Cam and gestured her over to an armchair to take a seat.

It was basic requirements; full name, date of birth, blood type, contact information. She crossed out the address section, a lump in her throat, and tapped her pen when she got to the last blank. “Umm,” she looked up at the two of them. “I don’t have...anyone, to put here.”

Dave frowned. “Oh...Leave it blank, that’s fine. Just sign the bottom part.”

Cam scrawled her name at the bottom just as the door to the office opened. “Ah, Marshal,” Dave greeted him, “how are the recruits?”

“Better, the younger one will probably lose a finger or two,” the newcomer replied, his voice stern. “If their skills had been on-par with their bravery, they might have felled the Daemonwall.”

Greyson coughed. “You mean stupidity, huh Cor?”

He didn’t respond, instead turning his attention to Cam. Cor addressed her in third person, as if she wasn’t there. “Who’s she?”

Both Dave and Greyson shifted simultaneously, as if either didn’t want the responsibility of responding to the Marshal. A flux of grit spiked in her and Cam stood, slowly, handing the clipboard back to Dave in the process. “Cam, Cam Reynolds. I’m here to recruit and train as a hunter.”

Cor eyed her with apprehension, steel blue irises that hid a tale of multiple generations before her, his face in a perma-frown. “Can you handle yourself in a fight?”

Cam reeled slightly. “N-no, I need to go through training-”

“What weapons do you specialize in?”

So this was how he’d play it. The intimidation bested Cam. “Uhh, I don’t know-”

“How many daemons have you eliminated?”

“None…”

The silence caused the pulse in Cam’s ear to beat with deafening thrums. The Marshal looked about to speak, but she interjected before he could open his mouth. “Look, I-I know I’m not halfway cut out for this, but I want to train, I want to learn how to fight.” Cam took a step forward, her knees stiff, and spoke from a broken heart. “My fiance...Nolan Duchene, was a hunter. He was killed by a daemon, and it nearly killed me as well. That’s a life, gone. Our life, gone.”

She paced around the room, feeling their eyes on her. “I want to make a difference. I want to do this, for him. For me.”

Cam turned back to face Cor, who held the same apprehensive look towards her. He sighed. “I fought alongside Duchene once. Good man, though I hope you’re better with a sword than he is.”

“Give me a chance to get there.” Cam surprised herself, the fire she spoke with a newfound trait.

“It’s settled then,” The Marshal nodded at Greyson. “She’s your responsibility. Take her on some intermediate hunts, start her on firearms until she’s comfortable reducing her distance from them.”

“Will do, though I’ll need to get someone else on supply duty,” Greyson replied. “Any suggestions?”

Dave checked a roster list of hunters against their rankings, flipping the page over and skimming through. “Bump Kessler in, just give him the go-over of the routes to each vendor and if he can’t, show him how to drive.”

Cor turned to leave, his hand on the door. “I expect a progress report, Phillips. If she can’t hold her own, let me know.”

And then as soon as he arrived, he left. Cam felt a weight lift from her shoulders as Greyson patted her on the back. “Heh, standing up to the Immortal himself. Not something many people can cross off.”

Cam gave him an apologetic look. “Uhh, thanks? Don’t know where that came from…” Usually the one to let others dispute, she never excelled in confrontation. Something shifted in her mind as she spoke to the Marshal, though. A courage that intrigued her.

It also terrified her.

Dave put her application on top of a stack of others. “Greyson, show Cam to the barracks and find her a free bunk, will you?”

Sleep wasn’t gracing Cam with it’s presence, even though she’d turned in as soon as Greyson found a spot for her in the back of the room of twenty-plus beds. She checked the time on her phone whenever someone came in, attempting to keep track of when the most foot traffic came through, but gave up before long as she overheard two people discussing the staggered schedules among their peers. After her usual rituals of sleep failed to get her down, she climbed out of bed, pulled her sweater back on over her clothes, and tried not to make the floorboards creak as she headed for some fresh air.

Cam perched herself on an old guardrail, flipping through her phone to try and find a distraction from the burning at her hip. It was flaring up again, having previously calmed to that of stoked embers instead of white-hot steel against her skin.

She looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the hunter base. Across the road cutting straight through the small town, a couple of hunters sat outside a food truck as someone took their orders. They would have been altogether unintriguing had it not been for an oddly familiar shock of blonde hair, facing away from her. Where had she seen that hairstyle before? She couldn’t place it…

The military vehicle that left earlier pulled up and Cam’s breath caught in her throat. She felt like ducking and hightailing out of sight, but her brain didn’t seem to want to connect thoughts with actions and so she sat still, watching, waiting.

She didn’t have to for long. He sauntered off the tarped vehicle and the second his foot hit dirt, his eyes were on her.

It was a strange feeling akin to a lion stalking a gazelle, the cursory time between discovery and pursuit. The problem was, she couldn’t decide whether she felt like the predator, or the prey. She was hyper-aware of the branding at her hip, biting back tears from the pain. Why did it have to hurt so much?

It overwhelmed her. Cam all but jumped back off the railing and headed back into the barracks, where she tucked in for the first of many sleepless nights.

Gladio watched her flee until she was out of sight, the swell in his chest calming as he turned to join his friends at the table nearby. He was well aware of the dull ache at his hip, right where his sun-shaped soulmate marking was. Grabbing a spare chair, he pulled up to the pair at the table and took a seat.

“What was that all about, dude?” Prompto gestured a hand towards the barracks, where the woman was. “Got some unfinished beef or something?”

He didn’t respond at first, the burning at his hip not leaving anytime soon. “That was her.”

Prompto let out a quiet gasp while Ignis piped up. “My word. Are you certain?”

“Yep.” Gladio hadn’t felt the pull since he first saw her in the market of Lestallum, his eye catching the small sun-shaped marking on her hip as the hem of her shirt raised up with her movements. She was with someone else though, and he wasn’t about to interrupt that. He told his friends about it, when one night at camp they talked about soulmates and how they came to exist. Ignis drabbled over the mythology about it, but all the while he could only see her face, her smile, the dimple at her right cheek…

Two years she haunted his dreams, the mystery woman from the market. He’d thought she’d be long since dead; to find her alive and well?

It...complicated things.

Ignis adjusted the rim of his tinted glasses. “Given the circumstances, how are you proceeding?”

Gladio clenched and unclenched his fist. “I don't know. Just…” He stood, eyes back towards the barracks.

“Please, don’t mention this to Steph.”

[moonraccoon-exe]

Wedding [Gladnis AU headcanon]

[Spoilers ahead] [Link to AO3 if preferred http://archiveofourown.org/works/11115198]

It’s been a bit more than a year since light was restored to Eos.

Most of the people of Insomnia have come back and settled down to retake their lives. Along the slow but steady steps of time, they managed to not only clean the mess in which their beloved homeland was turned into after the Niflheim invasion about slightly longer than 11 years ago, followed closely by the daemon infestation brought along neverending nights, but to also rebuild and repair the ruined pieces of their city.

Some of the people, on the other hand, found new homes in the different towns and cities across the land of Lucis and chose to stay there, leaving the past in its place. And like them, there were people from these towns and cities that had found their chance to be welcomed into the capital city of the kingdom.

And life simply went on, just like time: no matter how much of an impact any event can have in the world, time is not stopping there. It’s always leaving everything in its place and moving on for the next to come. 

The city rebuilt, homes and families settled down, and without forgetting the past but not getting stuck in it either, the people of Lucis and all of Eos continued their lives. The youth started going back to classes, lessons, schools. The streets started receiving cars, bikes, people. Stores opened; restaurants followed; the arcade and the bars, from which one could sometimes hear loud Happy Birthday singing.

Because birthday parties came back, just like other celebrations. Graduations. Weddings.

A little time having passed the first anniversary of the New Dawn, one of these couples have finally decided to get married. They chose to stay in Insomnia not only out of a personal decision but also as a responsability; having stood in the middle of the city during the New Dawn, it somehow, even if just in a symbolic way, became something that was up to them, all of this: bringing life back to Insomnia, welcome the people back, help restore everything, mantain the order.

After all...

I leave it to you.

So that was what they had to do. Hence, the reason why they have to stay there.

The celebration had long been planned, but it had stayed as a promise between the two of them, and between the two of them and their dearest companion, and a third time between the three of them and their closest mates and relatives, that it would not take place until light would come back to the world.

And it was not a tantrum of a young couple that wanted a nice set of photographs with daylight. 

It was an excuse for a bigger promise behind: the promise of awaiting for their King to return to finally fulfill their goal without leaving anybody behind.

So now, with the light of day finally back and everything settled to order and peace in not only the world but also in the capital city of the kingdom of Lucis, there were no major troubles to finally arrange the preparations for the wedding.

At first it was kept relatively personal among their beloved ones, family and friends. But due to the need of buying some of the required stuff or asking around for certain needs, the rumor started spreading until all of the city knew. And it was no major troubles or uncomfortable: it was simply what they had expected it to be.

When it became known to the rest of the Insomnian people, there were the average people who celebrated the news and then let it be, the youth who celebrated and tried to stay updated through the net and the news, and also the ones with something in their power to offer: the best and the less good of all the chefs and cooks offered the greatest buffet and dinner to have ever been served in a wedding, and most were offering it for free; the best and the less good of tailors started offering their skills to fabricate the best pair of suits to have ever been worn by a couple, and most offered it for free; the best and the less good of musicians started offering their fingers, voices and work to have the best music to have ever played in a wedding, and most offered it for free.

Most offered it for free not only out of kindness, but also out of excitement. Because, what could be a greatest honor but to have their work tasted, worn and heard by two of the three heroes that stood by King Noctis the 114th of his name, savior of all of Eos and the King of Light?

The couple, however, did not show any interest in causing a fuss and even less in showering themselves in these endless gifts, expensive or unnecessary purchases, or people’s exaggerated flatters and compliments. They continued with their own preparations, remaining as much as possible into the family and friends spectrum as their roots of royalty and their photographs in the newest history books allowed them to.

And after a few months of preparation, the day has finally come.

Let’s follow the grooms, one by one.

Gladiolus Amicitia, thirty four, invited his closest friends, and made sure that the friends he made outside of Insomnia (and the ones that could and wanted) made it to the capital city in time. Having lost his father a bit past 11 years ago, he asked the closest he had of a fatherly figure to walk him down the aisle when the moment came.  Cor the Immortal, with no excuses, agreed. Gladio could swear he even smiled a bit when he was asked for it. As the person in charge of bringing his ring to him when it would be his moment to ask his beloved one for eternal company, and hence the groomsman, he, of course, did not think twice about it, . Prompto, his best friend and companion of the most important lapse of his life so far, happily agreed as well. 

When he had invited his friends to the celebration, some of them had found a bit of complications: the hour it was settled to take place was a bit...unconventional. Therefore, it may have taken most of his friends off guard: most, however, agreed nonetheless. Only a few chose to think about it twice and rearrange their schedules or ask the boss at work for the day off. 

“But...why that hour of the day?”

Gladiolus, usually joyful even if rather calm, would appear rather solemn whenever they asked him this question, because it for sure was not asked only once. 

“Because it’s the only time all of our friends can be present there”, would be his answer and he would not offer any deeper explanation. With or without it, his friends, most of them loyal to him, would agree regardless of how the hour could mess up with their plans or their day. Because, at a certain level, they had an idea of what he was talking about.

Ignis Scientia, thirty three, invited his friends as well. Having lived a much more reserved youth, which was almost in a hundred percent focused whole in somebody else’s life, there were less people he asked to come. And not that he had no friends: it was just that most of the ones he had were also Gladiolus’, so they had already been invited by both of them. 

Having lost his family as well during the Niflheim invasion, he seeked for the closest he had of any sort of relative figure. He had thought, before any of the troubles in his life started, that if he ever made it to this day, he would ask his dad (his real dad rather than his blood, biological one), King Regis, the closest he always had to a fatherly figure, to walk him down the aisle. But...

Well. Things usually take an unexpected turn, and those turns left him with no choice but to look for somebody else. Prompto, whom he considered his little brother, had already been taken by Gladio (though as his groomsman), and even despite that, the most appropiate would have had been to have someone older than him for this, more of a father or mother.  His choice went on for Monica, former Crownsguard and senior to him.

As the person to bring him the ring he would have to give his beloved one when the moment of asking him for eternal company came and hence his groomsman...well, there were a bit of troubles with him. But Ignis managed through it and repaired it: that, however, was what lead them to pick such an unnusual hour for the wedding.

On his personal side, however, there were not many people he could think about: all of his life until just the previous year had been entirely focused on his obligations and duties. He did, however, ask some people from his school years and the times he spent outside of the city, and most agreed. And just like the case with Gladio, most of them, having agreed or not, asked the question.

“Why did you choose such a weird hour to celebrate the wedding?”

Ignis, however, had a different answer than his partner. Rather than turning to solemnity (which would have been a bit hard to notice as he, as far of his 33 years of life, has always stayed solemn and royal to the very core of his bones), Ignis showed no major troubles with being questioned. If anything, he smiled very, very subtly.

“Because it’s the only hour my groomsman can attend the ceremony.”

This made most people blink at the unexpected response. Some decided to not question that and just give him their answer to attending or not. Some, on the other hand, would ask deeper into that. But no matter what they asked or what they told him, Ignis gently denied the chance of changing the hour. And not that his friends were upset about it and insisted on him changing it: they were just curious on why Ignis relied so much on what hour his groomsman could attend it.

Because, according to general opinion, it did not have to be a matter of whether the groomsman can or not or wants or not. It’s Ignis’ wedding, so it is his schedules and his choices...not the groomsman’s? Therefore, the guy could have a little heart or brain and just damn change his own schedules instead of making Ignis and Gladio rearrange theirs in their special day. Right? 

But they let go of that and just agreed on going anyway: this was just Ignis being...well, himself. Attending other people’s necessities for over his own, even in his own damn wedding.

All prepared, the day has come.

The ceremony is to take place at the roof of the Citadel, open place that has previously witnessed other sort of celebrations. Restored long ago and decorated, friends and family of the couple, aided by assistants, took their time to decorate everything one day previous to the proper ceremony. Not only is the Citadel open for public, like it used to be in the old days of the Lucis Caelum: Ignis and Gladiolus both had their right to celebrate such ceremony in said place due to their roots, both belonging to noble families of the royal world.

People start crowding outside and are welcomed inside as the hour approaches. The grooms have both left to different rooms of the Citadel, each with their respective fatherly or motherly figure and their groomsman, for their appearances to be the last ones and a surprise not only to the crowd but also to one another.

Moon slipping down a side of the ceiling above them and stars gently sparkling with a mute lullabye, the guests start taking their place and softly murmur in friendly conversations in the waiting for everything to begin. Some people sometimes yawn; some others look at the hour. Some others, better prepared for the situation, eagerly talk but keep the voice down: not that there is anybody they could bother if they are too loud, but it still feels that way, what with the hour.

Once the ceremony starts, everybody return to their places and keep quiet. Music gently starts playing, sounding just like their previous conversations: quiet, like they subconsciously fear to wake anybody up even though they are aware everybody is up and in their full senses.

Following the protocol, the closest to the family of the Lucis Caelum, whether they live or not, is first to walk down the aisle. So it is the Amicitia turn.

Former sworn shield to the last of the Lucis king, Gladiolus has the responsability of appearing first. Like his former title requires him to do, he wears a symbolic sword on the waist [thing that would have happened whether he married Ignis or another person and whether any of the Lucis’ family members were present or not], though it does not ruin the looks of his outfit. 

Formal but not cheesy, Gladio wears a black suit, white shirt underneath, and a dark tie with subtly traced signs of the Kingsglaive uniform. Soles of his shoes, red, like the royal attire color code system says he should. Iris had insisted he would not be ready and ‘entirely handsome’ unless he wore a flower: she chose one for him, of a light purple shade, and softly left it on the right side of his chest.

Cor the Immortal goes by his side, wearing formal and black, but not stealing any of the groom’s spotlight. Arms locked together, both men take their time; Gladiolus with a beaming smile upon his face, waving at friends and family, saying Hi from north to south. Cor, on his part...well, he gently nods as salutation every now and then.

Behind them and carrying a little box with a ring in there, Prompto takes his two minutes of fame crossing the hallway on his own, happy and cheerful like always. Family and friends say hi to him as well, but he had a tough training with himself on how he has to control his impulse to yell Hello at everyone and instead just nods at them: he’s holding Gladio’s ring for Ignis and he sure does not want to drop it and cause a scene and ruin it.

Once arriving, Gladio roughly takes him in an arm to use his free hand to completely ruin Prompto’s hair. It was possibly the first time in his life he ever combed it, but, if Gladio was honest, he preferred the stupid style of his daily life with the blond photographer. So he better ruin it upwards like they both like it best.

After a little laugh with him and after having let go, it is the turn of the partner.

So Ignis appears alongside Monica. He, just like Gladio, in a twin suit, dresses like the royal code suggests he should do: soles red, black outfit in general, and his Kingsglaive themed tie. He did not cover any of his scars and none of them ever even thought about it: he earned those for his king and every day he is just more proud he has them.

What he does keep, however, are his visors, which block partly the sight to his most awful injury. But it is not a special thing: it is his everyday visors.

Arm locked with Monica’s, he walks down the aisle at his time as well. He cannot see the people, but he senses them as they greet him. Gentle and formal, he smiles and nods in their direction.  As former adviser to the last of the Lucis king, he, however, and unlike Gladio, has no symbolic extra on his clothing. Not one that recalls his former title, that is, but he does have one symbol. There on his chest, on the right side, rests a special flower.

Once he’s walked to the very front, Monica lets go of him. He thanks her kindly and kisses her on the forehead before she parts from him.  No groomsman walks after them.

People do turn and question this, but they try to keep it quiet. Maybe it is a surprise. Maybe he’s late. A little trouble that keeps him behind. 

As they question this, Gladio welcomes Ignis, and the latter receives him. Both smile at each other in complete silence. Suddenly, there’s no one but the two of them.  Gladio stares at him like he’s the very same New Day, except much more valuable. Soft stare and the warmest of smiles upon his face, Gladio moves a hand up to softly rest it on his beloved one’s face.  Ignis looks up at Gladio, and he knows him so well that his stare finds and locks onto Gladio’s without the need to literally see it. He doesn’t need to, however, to know and sense those brown eyes on him. He smiles with honest but warm joy and softly takes one of Gladio’s hands, the one that is not on his face.

After a few moments staring at [and sensing] each other, both widen their smiles and lean in for a hug. The last as just boyfriends. As just fiancés.  Sometimes, Ignis is overwhelmed by the size and strength of his partner’s arms (and thing is, Gladio’s usually an excited mess of a joyfull ball of happiness, so his hugs are all usually bone wrecking). This time, however, they hold him with a softness he’s never felt before coming from the former sword shield.

And it’s not that Gladio has never been soft with him (indeed, he’s been so for many, many years by now). It’s just that this softness feels different. Much more familiar. Much more intimate. Perhaps it is because this softness does not come from sympathy; does not come from pity; does not come from love; does not come from care. This softness comes from the realization that Ignis is now literally part of his family. The realization that Ignis is, by agreeing with this, saying “This is my life, all of what I’ve been through, all of what I saw when I could, all of what I’ve eaten, read, played, said and done. This is me, and I’m giving it to you”. The realization that he’s holding a life that’s becoming part of his, not just a boyfriend anymore.

And the realization of this makes Ignis realize that he’s in the same spot: Gladio is offering him his own life back. And it makes Ignis hold onto him with a slight warmer touch. 

The hug lasts for some moments before they break apart. In the fear of having ruined his attire, Gladio reaches a hand up to Ignis’ chest to fix his flower, and it’s then when he takes a proper look at it. He smiles at the sight and then chuckles with warmth.

“A Gladiolus flower” the taller of the two says very softly as he fixes it. He watches Ignis smile back at him.

“Iris gave me the idea about five years ago. She didn’t even need to remind me a second time: it immediately became a Must in my things yet to do in life” the blind man says with a slightly playful smile, and Gladio can’t help it but shake the head with a tiny laugh of joy.

“I'm honored” Gladio says lowly to him. “I’d wear an Ignis flower too. If there was one. But...”

“Please, do not ruin the moment.”

“I won’t.”

Both share a little laugh together and get closer again for a second hug, this one being a little more playful than the first one.  Once after they let go of each other and have exchanged greetings (Gladio leaning over to Monica, and Ignis towards both Cor and his little brother Prompto), both stand in ther place and the ceremony starts.

When the preacher starts the wedding completely aware that the groomsman for one of them is missing and does not interrupt himself in any moment, people assum that Ignis’ man is not come, in the end, and the preacher has already been warned about it and decides to carry on either way.

The ceremony goes on with no interruptions. It carries on for about thirty minutes before it is time for the groomsmen to make their little intervention and offer the rings.  Like the closest to the royal family, Gladiolus goes firts. 

Prompto approaches him with a big smile, but not looking like an excited little kid, but rather like a proud little brother (the proud little brother he is to both of them). He opens the box for Gladio and he, with a Thank You, takes the golden ring from inside. Prompto gives him a half nod and backs off back to his place. 

Gladiolus gives his vows the way the Lucis system and the Astrals cult suggests him to do. As he recites them he offers a hand up, and Ignis does not need to see to sense it: he gently places his own on top of Gladio’s, feeling the rough, bigger hand underneath his own, taking a careful grip of it. 

“May the Astrals bless me with your answer” Gladiolus starts finishing his vows, looking directly into Ignis’ eyes, both the one that does not see him back and the scarred, closed one that can’t see him either. “Ignis Scientia, will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

“I will” Ignis answers with a soft smile, and even though none of his eyes can see Gladiolus, his answer and emotions are so true that Gladio really feels he’s staring at him. 

Said that, Gladio smiles at him and only then does he slip the ring onto one of Ignis’ fingers, being careful like he is deactivating a bomb. Once in its place, Gladio brings the other man’s hand up and he leans down, so that he can  place a loving kiss to both the hand and the ring. Ignis smiles at the unexpected detail, and it soon becomes his turn.

People know, too, that it is his turn. Some are still expecting for the groomsman to appear; many worry on whether he’s appearing in time; most think it’s Monica who’s holding the box, working as both Ignis’ motherly figure and his groomsmaid of some sort.

“What time is it, Gladio?” Ignis questions calmly.

“The right one, Iggy” Gladio replies with a smile. “Just a minute or two, I’m guessing.”

“I shall wait, then” Ignis says as calmly and as happy as before.

Both stay quiet. So does the preacher. All their friends and family. Only the ones from their external circle of friends wonder what is happening and if they are waiting for someone to arrive.

After some moments, Ignis closes the eyes. Gladio stares at him, and he knows it when Ignis softens his smile: he’s sensing it. Right in time. 

“There he is” Ignis says softly, keeping the eyes closed. 

And so, both of them turn to the direction of the hallway. East. Their sights go over it and to the very edge of the building. Iris, Cor, Monica and Prompto turn to look as well, the latter starting to tear up no matter how well prepared he thought he was for this moment.

At 5 and 45 minutes in the morning, people on the Citadel’s rooftop all turn to look East and watch the moment dawn breaks to welcome the day. The sun, a bit shy for having so much public today, comes out inch by inch, taking its time. It starts illuminating the rooftop step by step; first the dge, and then the floor. It reaches the small arch set at the beginning of the aisle, and it starts going down it like a guest more.

The light of dawn starts greeting the people file by file. Eventually, it reaches Prompto, who smiles at the sensation and the sight, and sighs at it. 

It soon reaches the grooms.

And when it does, Ignis smiles and closes the eye again. He raises the chin in the direction of the sun and breathes in softly, feeling, sensing. In silence, he keeps a sigh in his chest and he lets the light embrace him some minutes.  After some more moments like that, his lips curve softly.

“Late like always” he says with a slightly playful smile before chuckling at the time Gladio does. Ignis reaches inside his pocket and takes out a small box. He opens it and takes his ring from there. Monica receives the box to take it away.

Ignis turns East again and, smiling, he shows the ring to the sun of dawn.

“Thank you, Noct”.

His attention returns to Gladio. Ignis offers his hand for Gladio to take it, and so he does, carefully lying his hand on top of Ignis’. When he does, he feels the smaller man trembling subtly. Ignis does not fear the other to notice. Both understand, and none say a thing. 

Ignis has to take some moments. For some of the people in there, it is the very first time they see Ignis, the most sophisticated and controlled person, having troubles and taking his time to speak. His mouth moves once but no sound makes it out. He takes a few moments before he’s speaking this time.

His vows start the complete opposite to what people thought he would do: it’s shaky at first and very quiet. Like he’s scared. But he is not. And everybody understands what the matter really is.

“May the Astrals bless me with your answer” Ignis starts finishing his vows, and even though he had eventually regained his composure, those words are shaky and come out of him like a tower falling down brick by brick. He looks at Gladio with the eyebrows slightly furrowed, and he quickly bites down on his lower lip for a moment, before letting out a shaky sigh. And with it, a tear coming from his good eye and getting trapped in his visors. “Gladio...will you spend the rest...of your life with me?”

Gladiolus takes some moments. He closes the eyes and keeps a sigh in his chest, trying to keep himself in one piece for the sake of Ignis not breaking down entirely, not yet. 

“I will” he whispers to the smaller man. Ignis blinks a few times with his eye that refuses to stop letting the water out, trying to ignore it, and he reaches his other hand up. Everyone stay dead quiet as Ignis, a bit dumbly at first out of losing the cool of his mind, manages to slip the ring on his beloved one’s finger, even though his hand never stopped to slightly tremble.

Once he’s done so, he looks up at Gladio. Carefully and taking his time, Gladio moves his free hand up to take Ignis’ visors away; he saves them in a pocket and his hand returns to Ignis’ face, this time to wipe away the tears with his thumb. Ignis closes the eye, giving in to a soft, quiet crying as he leans his face into Gladio’s hand. 

Dawn light showers them in silence as they spend some moments like that.

“Who’d have thought, huh, Gladio?” Ignis questions very quietly, eyes closed and his hands on Gladio’s. “Noctis up at this hour.”

“He always hated mornings” Gladio smiles playfully at his beloved one. “But no way he’d miss your wedding, you know?”

“Our wedding” Ignis reminds him with a smile.

“Our wedding, of course” Gladio agrees in a whisper. “But he’s your groomsman”

Ignis chuckles among his quiet tears and nods.

“He promised” the blind man says keeping the stare down but not letting go of his smile. “And I promised him”

“Another promise kept by King Noctis” Gladio whispers to him. Ignis nods but he can’t manage to stare back up at Gladio. “And also kept by Noct the dumbass”

Ignis laughs softly at that and Gladio joins him. He joins in both that little laugh and also in the tears, but none seem to be able to stop smiling. He stares at Ignis some more moments, and then, feeling dawn insisting on him, he brings him closer for a hug.

In silence, quietly and ignoring the world, both hug firmly and softly, breaking down together, but without falling apart thanks to being held in one other’s arms.

Everybody stay quiet, watching.

The light of dawn stares as well.

And the way it feels specially warm today...it feels like Noctis smiling at them.