Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dawn is Just a Heartbeat Away (Hope Is Just A Sunrise Away)

Chapter One

################################################

Evening balls in Garlemald, the Imperial Capitol of the Garlean Empire, were not uncommon. Wind or rain, sun or snow, summer or winter, the movers and shakers of the empire liked to get together as often and as lavishly as possible. Displaying their wealth to one another, to the Imperial Family, to the officers of the military, to potential brides and grooms to their own family members, the reasons were as numerous as the attendees, and almost as varied. More than one alliance had been forged, or shattered, upon the marble floors of Garlemald’s dance halls.

Anyone who was anyone, or anyone who aspired to be someone, attended such events. It would be social suicide to do otherwise, and more than one family had found themselves missing members once their social status fell sufficiently, though of course none of their rivals ever had anything to do with such a tragic, unforeseeable occurrence. No, doubtless such things were down due to random crime, but they were certainly willing to purchase the property of the deceased in order to provide the grieving family with a nice nest egg to mourn with.

Yes, the parties of the Garlean nobility were as fraught with danger as they were flush with pleasures and opportunities, and as much as they were wary of the danger, they were enticed by the prospects. The potential gains, and the losses that being absent could provide, were far too great for anyone to demure from even the lowliest of parties. Ironically, it was at times that the poorer and less stories of families hosted that the most maneuvering took place, for none of the families equal to or greater than the host family would dare behaving in such a way that their rivals could smear their reputations for being ungracious guests, causing them to be blacklisted from further events. So they would roam estates a fraction the size of their own, pouring out compliments and offering trade agreements in order to appear better citizens than their rivals, and through the constant games on one-upmanship, enrichen that minor house they considered dirt beneath their boots fourfold or more. All for a single night’s expenditure to host the party.

If it was at parties hosted by the lowest of the Garleans that resulted in the most manouvering, however, it was at parties hosted by the Emperor that saw the most cutthroat manouvering. When the Emperor himself was not just in attendance but the host of the event, the flattery and the sly comments flew fast and thick, and the backstabbing only avoided being literal by dint of the Imperial Guard confiscating all weapons from attendees at the perimeter of the palace.

Not that any Garlean would dream of harming their beloved Emperor, of course, the man who had saved them from the frozen wastes and recaptured their ancestral homeland. The man who was reminding, and would continue to remind, the savages of the other nations that their proper place was firmly beneath the iron hand and boot of the Garlean Legions.

Oh, yes, their beloved Emperor. Wise beyond his years as a youth, and wiser still in his old age. Even now, with the majority of a century entire behind him, he carried the bearing and the strength of a man many years his junior, a shadow of the powerful, deadly, and charismatic Legatus that had shown Garlemald it deserved to stand astride the whole of the world. What thoughts, they wondered, passed through his well-honed mind, as he gazed out over his guests with such noble calm. What wisdoms, what knowledge, did he pass to his attending grandson, who stood even now beside his throne with all the powerful regality of the Imperial lineage?

##################################################################

His Most Glorious Radiance, Solus zos Galvus, Last of the Republic and First of the Empire, Mountain-Lord of Nhalmasque, Dusk-King of Werlyt, Liberator of Locus Amoenus, High Marquis of the Landis Marches, Lord Protector of Ala Mhigo and, by the will of the People and Senate of Garlemald, Emperor of the Garlean Empire…was bored.

Terribly, wretchedly, agonizingly bored.

The temptation to slouch in his throne, to post his chin upon a fist and gaze vacantly across the crowd until they took his unvoiced desires to heart and departed beat strongly in his breast. If he had known that this is what being an emperor was like, he would have made Lahabrea do it, or even set one of the Sundered that had been returned to their Seat on the job. Zodiark knew that that he hated everything to do with it: the politics, the paperwork, the empty flattery, the slimy, fractured imitations of souls around him…everything that came with running this wretched government and its efforts to conquer the rest of this shattered, empty, sundered imitation of Creation in order to return his true home to it’s full glory.

That, as ever, was the dearest and most heartfelt with of Hades, he who had once and forevermore would hold the Seat of Emet-Selch, Guardian of the Aetherial Sea. No matter what happened, no matter how many eons passed, how many names and faces he had to take for his own to continue upon his righteous crusade, he would neither flag nor fail. His steps, heavy with grief and hate, would never falter. The world-that-was would be reforged, and every soul that had been lost to him would be whole and hale and at his side once more.

His eyes swept the room, cold and calculating, and not for the first time he felt everyone of this body’s many, many years as his Sight showed him just how much had been lost to Venat’s actions. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together, as he remembered the moment he had watched his former friend and colleague, the mentor to his oldest and dearest friend, sunder all of Etheriys and it’s people. Oh, he knew why she had done it, to prevent even more deaths, even more sacrifices to Lord Zodiark. Such was the stalwart belief of those that held the Seat of Azem, that all lives were precious and of equal value, to be protected at any cost. So yes, he understood why Venat had Summoned Hydaelyn, and why…she had refused to participate in either summoning, but his understanding did not lessen the pain or the anger in the least. Did they imagine for a moment that he, guardian of the dead and the Lifestream, was pleased by the necessity of the course upon which The Fourteen had been forced to guide their people? Did they, did she, think that he…!

His thoughts, though they could be more accurately defined as bitter ranting, stuttered abruptly to a halt as his eyes alighted on a small cluster of young noble men and women, in their twenties at the eldest if he were to guess, gathered around another young woman. Not necessarily unusual at events like this, though the fact that she was (by the appearance of her dress armor) a member of the Reaper Corps was certainly not commonplace. In truth, that fact probably went a fair length in explaining her apparent popularity with those in her general age group, for military officers were ever popular and the mysterious members of the elite, scythe wielding, voidsent-allied Reapers even more so. After all, despite their carefully cultivated and maintained air of secrecy, every Garlean citizen knew of those brave and noble heroes, untrained farmers all, that had made pacts with The Void and wielded their scythes in the defense of their people when the savages had driven them from their homes. Very romantic and swoon-worthy, he was sure, for the sheltered noble brats of the capital city. Though he felt as if he recognized one of the aforementioned brats, a girl practically hanging off the reaper’s arm...

Aware that he was rambling to himself, something he would later find appalling (that sort of thing was for Lahabrea, unbalanced fool that he now was), he refocused on what was truly important about the girl: her soul.

It was almost painfully bright compared to the wispy, hollow shadows that lingered within the frail forms of those around her, of those who in fact filled not just this city, but this entire world. Blazing like the sun in the darkness of the night, like the brightest of lamps in the darkest of basements. It paled in comparison to the souls of he and his fellow Unsundered, of course, they who were Paragons of the ancient world, but it could not for even the slightest of moments be imagined to belong to one of these lesser creatures around him. No, this girl’s soul was definitively and obviously that of a partially Rejoined child of Amaurot.

The shell, likewise, was easily set apart from those around her. Most Garleans looked fairly similar in build and appearance: pale-skinned, tall, powerfully built, and trending towards lighter shades of hair. With a gem-like third eye in their forehead, of course. The shell was tanned, short and slender, with hair the color of pitch that had violet streaks through it, left side bangs pulled back into side-braids that lead to a high ponytail, while the bangs on the right framed her face. Compared to the blonde and light brown hair of those around her, with the elegant shaping and enough beauty products to bankrupt a regular family…well, missing the differences was impossible.

As the crowd of youth around her erupted into laughter at something she had said, he couldn’t help the tidal wave of nostalgia that swept over him. That roguish smirk, that air of devil-may-care, and crowd of admirers that hung on her every word…oh how this girl reminded him of his most beloved friend.

Signaling his aides that he was done taking admirers for the moment, he beckoned his grandson close, ignoring the familiar pang of old regret and sadness as he thought of the boy’s father. His sweet Julius, so bright, so good. Bright enough that he had allowed himself to feel hope in the cruel, worthless, broken world…only for that world to remind him quickly why hope was a foreign, pointless thing when his son and daughter-in-law had died of illness within days of each other, leaving their boy an orphan at the tender age of ten.

                “Grandfather?” Varis asked obediently, his massive frame practically having to kneel in order to bring his ear close enough for Solus’ elderly, withered voice to reach him.

                “Varis, tell me: that girl, the Reaper amongst the youth. What do you know of her?” Hades asked, and he could feel the surprise and slight bafflement from his grandson as he looked over at the group. Despite his confusion, however, Varis was a reasonably intelligent boy, and if Hades had to praise any of his qualities, his superb memory would certainly be one of them. Besides, Zodiark knew the meticulous brat would have memorized the names and faces of every single guest that was being allowed into the Imperial Palace days in advance.

                “That is…Aeliana rem Quirinius, grandfather, a tribunus militum of the XIVth Legion, under Gaius van Baelsar. She is his companion tonight, though it seems the man himself is nowhere to be found.” Varis responded after only a heartbeat of thought, and Hades felt his eyebrows raise almost against his will.

                “Tribunus Militum, at her age? She could hardly be more than twenty winters, perhaps so many as twenty-five, but not a single day more!” he repeated, feeling legitimate surprise. Unworthy individuals being promoted beyond their current capabilities was common, even amongst a meritocratic society such as Garlemald, but her status as a Reaper through that theory into doubt. Never mind the fact that Gaius was a fanatical adherent to the beliefs of the Empire that Hades had crafted. He promoted and empowered and recruited those he considered competent and worthy, and despised nepotism with a seething passion. It was one of the reasons that the XIVth was so effective and his men were so fanatically loyal to him.

                “Yes, Grandfather. She is twenty-one winters, I believe, and her ascension through the Reaper Corps and the Legion have been rapid enough to cause quite a stir at the Bureau of Military Logistics, but they are used to van Baelsar playing by his own rules.” Varis confirmed, a slightly bitter note in his tone, and Hades restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Varis and his childhood friend, Regula, had never gotten along with their ‘uncle’ or approved of the way he did things. Nor had they ever grown out of that distaste.

Renewed cheers from the group interrupted them for a moment, and Hades smirked internally at the way the crowd was now fawning over the small, rather unique succubus that was flitting between them, hiding behind long locks or perching on heads. Such fine control over their Voidsent was highly uncommon, as was such a defined shape, even amongst the most elite of the organization. Most Avatars were simply cloaked and masked wraiths that came and went in mere instants.

                “Well, I see at least one reason for her rapid advancement. I have never seen such mastery over a voidsent partner before.” Hades voiced his thoughts, and Varis nodded begrudgingly.

                “It is certainly impressive.” He admitted a bit sourly, doubtless unhappy to praise one of Gaius’ ‘projects’. “At any rate, I know little of her beyond that, given the XIVth’s long posting in Ala Mhigo, only that her mother knew van Baelsar from a campaign a long time ago. Besides that, rumours and hearsay.”

Hades hummed in thought, before tilting his head slightly to his right side. An aide was there instantly, kneeling beside the throne with an attentive ear.

                “Yes, Your Radiance?” the woman asked quietly, and Hades reflected for a moment how much he despised bowing and scraping before responding.

                “Find Gaius van Baelsar and inform him that I require his presence immediately.” He instructed, returning his attention to Varis as the aide vanished. “You said you had rumors and hearsay about this girl?”

                “I do, Grandfather, but I see little reason to repeat baseless speculations bandied about by the envious or the gossip-mongering.” The boy sneered, contempt for such individuals radiating from his every pore, and Hades resisted the urge to snort in amused agreement. Still, he was curious, and he glanced at Varis and arced a single eyebrow in silent command. Sighing slightly, Varis dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Very well, Grandfather, if you insist. It is said she skipped entirely from a youth Militaris Scholae to a posting in the XIVth, training as an irregular with Baelsar’s Cania Lupi for a time before being tested for the Reaper Corp and joining the legion properly. That, for all that it is unconfirmed, seems to be within the character of the Legatus.”

Hades nodded slowly in agreement. Gaius, as he had reflected earlier, had an eye and taste for gathering talent around him, regardless of their stations or nations of birth. Still, there were missing pieces, large ones. Such as how the girl’s mother was involved, or why Gaius had recruited her and taken her half an empire away after a military preparatory school, which meant she could have been no more than sixteen or seventeen at the time.

                “I am wise enough to guess that some of the rumors around her suggest that she is warming his bed, Varis.” He remarked, getting a grunt of agreement from his grandson, and he regarded the girl thoughtfully for a moment. Gaius was not prone to the company of the young, even those old enough to be legally in his chambers, as the girl would have been and was, nor was he so enraptured by his passions to so disturb the typical methods of recruitment and education simply for a young flower to satiate his carnal desires with. “Do you consider there to be any truth to such rumors?”

                “Absolutely not.” Varis denied, instantly and firmly, enough so that Hades felt a thread of surprise at the stern, unyielding definitiveness of the words. “As I said, worthless words bandied about by those that envy her success, despise van Baelsar, or are looking for some salacious story to titter about within their mansions like the hapless fools that they are.”

                “A firm condemnation, and one unusually so for you. Especially when it comes to your uncle.” Hades mused, getting an annoyed huff from the boy, which brought a small smirk of amusement across his lips. Really, tweaking these mortals was the only thing approaching fun he had in his existence anymore. Hythlodaeus doubtless would be thrilled about that, even if his friend would doubtlessly despise everything else Hades had done. Oh, how many times had the Archivist and Azem teamed up to make his life utter misery, playing their jokes off of one another and driving him to madness with a speed and talent that was as breathtaking as it was infuriating?

                “My issues with van Baelsar are extensive and well-known, but anyone who believes he would promote someone beyond their ability simply because he was...making use of their company, is delusional. His contempt for nepotism is legendary, it’s one of the few things I approve of. Besides, the fact that she has risen so far amongst the Reapers and exhibits such control over her voidsent makes such accusations patently absurd. She is clearly more than capable in her own right. Besides, everyone knows that he takes that Tribunus of his, the Junius girl, into his bed.” Varis told him, folding his arms across his chest as the tall, broad form of The Black Wolf began cutting through the crowd like a dreadnought as Gaius made his appearance, the crowd parting before him like the sea.

                “My Emperor, your Highness.” Gaius bowed to each of them, each gesture of respect to precisely the depth and angle that their individual stations demanded, not an ilm more. In some, that might have been a passive-aggressive gesture of disrespect, but in the Legatus of the XIVth Legion, it was simply the precise, measured military attitude that shaped so much of the man shining through. “I am here, as you commanded. How might I serve?”

                “Been hiding in one of my parlors again, Gaius, avoiding your loving admirers?” Hades chuckled at the slightly pained look that crossed the man’s eyes, knowing how much he despised pomp and circumstance, especially pomp and circumstance with those that pontificated about the greatness and strength of the empire without doing a damn thing to make it either great or strong. He paused for a moment, ostensibly to take a breath, before continuing with an edge of wicked delight. “How else will you meet a delicate and wed a beautiful Garlean snow-rose, waiting even now to be swept of her feet by a strong and fierce wolf?”

                “My Emperor…” he started, sounding quite tired for a moment, only to fall silent as Hades waved a hand dismissively, still chuckling.

                “Ah, Gaius, I think that you shall never change. Well, I didn’t not elevate you to your position because of your love or talent for the political field, but that of battle. Nor am I inclined to try and marry you off at so crucial a time, so have no fear. The Black Wolf will remain uncollared a while longer.” He said, ignoring the way the man gave a soft sigh of relief at avoiding potential arranged marriages for another social season. “No, my friend, tonight my interest is in your escort. I have born witness to her control over her voidsent, and heard of her rapid promotions from Varis. He is really quite impressed with your eye for talent, you know. You will tell your nephew and I more of her, yes?”

                “Of course, my Emperor, with pride.” Gaius responded promptly, coming up to his right side as Varis remained on his left. “Aeliana rem Quirinius, a Reaper and one of my Tribunus Militum. Many call her my protégé, and on my honor I cannot deny this has a great deal of truth to it. Despite their envy, however, she is entirely deserving of her accolades and my teachings. In fact, I expect she shall reach the rank of Praefectus Castorum within the next five years.”

The pride that the man had in the girl was easy to see, even to the most blind of men. It was the pride of a father in their child, and Hades hummed in acknowledgement with a slow nod.

                “As you noted, of course, she is highly talented with her voidsent. I have never seen so close a bond or so fine a control as that which she possesses, and is of devastating and graceful lethality upon the battlefield. I have never seen her lose a duel with someone besides myself or one of my highest-ranking officers. She joined my legion at the behest of her mother, who was once my comrade during the Unification Campaigns. I was honored to be chosen to shape the talented future head of House Quirinius.” Gaius finished, and Hades nodded again thoughtfully before glancing over at the man.

                “Tell me, Gaius, how long have we known one another, you and I?” he asked conversationally, and Gaius (poor, avoids-politics-like-the-plague Gaius) didn’t hear the threat lurking underneath the words, only frowning slightly in confusion before answering quite honestly.

                “Since I but a boy, Excellency, with spindly legs and knobbly knees.” He said, and Hades snorted.

                “A troublesome boy with scratched legs and scrapped knees, you mean, always dragging poor Julius into whatever mad scheme you had most recently concocted.” He corrected, and Gaius gave a short, soft, genuine laugh, nodding as old shadows chased themselves through his eyes.

                “Aye, and he was forever the one who was rescuing me from them, as well. Dragging me home with our heroic wounds, lecturing me on my foolishness all the way.” He acknowledged, and Hades nodded with a small, genuine, wistful smile of own as Gaius continued. “Of course, then your lady wife would take a strip off our hides, up one side and down the other as she cleaned us up, while the servants tried to scrub the blood and dirt from our clothes and patch the holes in them.”

                “Yes…” Hades still missed Solus’ wife, often, all these years later. He had not loved her whole-heartedly, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, but she had been a most remarkable woman who had loved him in her own way and supported him fiercely, doting on their son but raising him with a firm hand. If ever there had been a mortal shade of this world that he had wanted to share the truth with, besides Julius, it would have been her.

The same sickness that had slain their son had taken her, and he lamented it still. He shook the memories off with the painful, tired ease of long practice as Gaius paused before adding softly, heart-felt.

                “I miss Lady Honoria and Julius even now, my Emperor. I loved her like a mother, and he like a brother. I would have gladly served him as I have served you, as we both served you in the Legions before your ascension to the throne. I have loved no man more than I loved he, and would have given my life in an instant if it would have kept them at your side.”

This, Hades knew, was neither flattery nor shallow commiseration. Every word that Gaius had just spoken was nothing but the clear, resounding truth. Indeed, he remembered well the many times that Gaius had nearly given his life to preserve that of his Julius on the battlefield.

                “Yes, you and I have known each other for your entire living memory, Gaius.” He said, pushing the memories away once more, tone taking on a distinctly sardonic note as he continued. “Of course, given that, I must wonder why you believe that you could hide something from me.”

Gaius froze, a look not dissimilar to that of a deer when the hunter’s trap has clamped around it’s leg sweeping over his face. Were it not for the seriousness of the memories that had just been brough to the surface leaving lingering grief and pain on his heart, Hades might have found the reaction quite amusing, if darkly so.

                “My Emperor, every single word I have spoken to you tonight has been nothing but the truth!” he protested carefully, but he was hardly canny enough to pull one over an Ancient used to dealing with the two most headache-inducing citizens of Amaurot or countless kings and emperors and sycophantic wretches over the course of millennia.

                “Hmm, yes, I have no doubt of that. But I know you well, young man, and I know that while you’ve said not a single lie, there is much you have not said at all about your charge instead. Surely it is not because you have taken her as your woman?” Hades prodded, anticipating the reaction that would garner.

                “Certainly not!” Gaius balked, looking appalled by the very suggestion, before sighing in defeat as Hades and Varis simply stared at him silently. “As you command, Excellency. There may, as it happens, be…a few things that set her apart from most, but I hasten to add that there are none more loyal amongst my legion than she, and she believes as deeply in our people and our cause as I!”

                “That is all very well and good, Gaius, but I am still waiting to hear these things that set her apart.” Hades said with an air of fraying patience, and Gaius kept talking, with a resigned air about him.

                “She has abilities that I cannot account for through talent alone, nor through what I know the Reaper arts. Her closeness with her voidsent is, as I have said, not like anything I have before seen. That, in and of itself, could be explained away as her simply being talented in those arts. However, she possesses the ability to react with such speed to threats that it seems to border on precognition, learns new talents or skills with baffling speed, and her talent for making friends -or at least friendly acquaintances- with even those who should be her enemies would be deeply concerning were it not for her devotion to Garlemald. And…” here he hesitated for a long moment, as Hades tried to ignore a pit that seemed to be growing within his stomach as all three of them returned their gazes to the girl. “She…is an investigator of unusual provenance. Able to discern from the slightest of clues, even those I and my trained investigators cannot even see, what has happened in a place and who was responsible. I would fear it was trickery, false leads and accusations, if she had not been proven correct time and again.”

If he had not already suspected, that small speech would have confirmed for Hades that this girl was not just a shattered Ancient, but a powerful one. Possession of ‘The Echo’, and in such strength, was a vanishingly rare thing even on The Source. The beliefs of his Empire dictated that she was a beastman, fit only for death, but he had never expected for it to appear amongst the Garlean race, not with their crippling inability to shape aether the way the rest of the world did.

This begged to question: how should he proceed from here?

                “Grandfather…” Varis’ voice, tight and firm, drew him from his thoughts, and he looked over to see a distant cousin of Solus’, a brat in Varis’ legion that was thoroughly useless for anything and everything he was assigned, was squaring off with Aeliana, and Hades raised an eyebrow as he realized why he had recognized one of the girls hanging onto Aeliana’s every word. The boy in question had spent most of the night flirting (or trying to, at any rate) with servants and fellow guests alike in pursuit of female company, which meant… “Well, Varis, it seems our cousin takes umbrage with his abandoned fiancé latching onto Gaius’ protégé.”

Both men started forward, intent on preventing the brewing conflict, but halted at his raised hand. He wanted to see how this played out. To see how she handled a situation that could not be handled with her scythe or void-born powers.

To see just how similar she was to the last person he had seen with such a beautiful, radiant, warmly glowing soul.

########################################################

So, I’ve been planning a FFXIV story for a very long time, but I wanted to see how Endwalker played out before I started it. I wanted to see the whole of the “Hydaelyn and Zodiark” storyline before I started working in it. Well, it’s over now, and it was amazing, and I can finally work on this story.

Now, this story is actually a prequel to the ‘real’ story, which is Aeliana’s beginning. Basically, it will cover her starting point and how she ends up becoming a wandering Adventurer in Eorzea, while the ‘real’ story will be Aeliana going through the events as the game, but with all the differences expected from having the WOL being an elite Garlean defector, and other interesting changes.

Chapter Text

I got distracted playing Darktide.

That is All.

There was, originally, going to be a bit of smut in this chapter but…honestly, it was going to be a one off with the girls involved not being part of the main pairing, so I just cut the content and left it as a fade to black. I’ll save writing smut for the actual waifu!

Finally, as always, please consider helping to flesh out the TV Tropes page.

############################################################

Dawn Is Just A Heartbeat Away (Hope Is Just A Sunrise Away)

Chapter Two

#############################################################

“…should have seen the look on his face when we kicked in the door, swords drawn! Like a deer caught in a spotlight, wide-eyed and frozen stiff, as if that would make him invisible!” Aeliana grinned, the grin taking on a distinctly wicked edge as she continued. “Of course, that changed quickly enough when my legionnaire put her boot heel between his legs. Bastard hadn’t even managed to get past her skirts before the countdown expired and we went in.”

She paused for a moment, waiting just long enough that the chuckles began as her audience thought that she was done, and made a casual shooing motion as she went on.

                “Poor fellow tripped a few more times on his way to the cells, of course. Couldn’t risk him attacking us if we tried to pull his pants up, you see, and so we were forced to escort him with a bit of a hobble about his ankles.” She finished, and the crowd around her erupted in amusement, the men guffawing and slapping each other’s backs or shoulders while the women giggling brightly.

                “Always nice to hear about savages getting their comeuppance.” One of the young men said as the laughter died down, crossing his arms over his chest with a smug smile.

                “Surely that was dangerous for your legionnaire, though! What if he had actually managed to…to…that is, if he had actually been able to assault her?” one of the young women asked tremulously, one slender, silken-skinned hand clutching at the pearl necklace she wore.

                “She had a linkpearl, in case he actually managed to get close to success before we arrived, and besides, armor or no, she could have easily broken him in half if she had to. It’s why she was picked to play the bait, after all.” Vestara assured the girl with a smirk and a wink, getting a fetching flush in response.

                “I suppose the other savages rioted once he was executed?” another of the young men sneered, but Aeliana shook her head firmly.

                “No, not in the least. She was a local auxiliary, after all, with no outward signs that she was one of my people. That indicated to the other Ala Mhigans that he was perfectly willing to rape his own people if it meant getting what he wanted. That didn’t win him any affections from them. They all remember what their Mad King’s soldiers did during his purges, and they don’t look kindly on it.” She explained honestly with a slight shrug. “If he had been a member of the Resistance or a petty criminal, they likely would have made issue of an execution, but for a rapist caught in the act?”

She shook her head again, and the crowd around her looked thoughtful, at least for the most part. One young man, dressed in the uniform of a member of the Garlean Home Guard, snorted with a look of contempt.

                “Resistance, pah! The scum should be glad that the Empire has taken over their little shithole of a country instead of letting them wallow in their own squalid filth. What sort of reasonable people not only worship a god, but choose a god of destruction for their patron? It’s disgusting!” he growled, amidst the sounds of agreement from the others, and Aeliana couldn’t resist the slight, censorious frown that creased her face in response as he continued. “How they could not only resist our kindness, but do so for so long is beyond me entirely!”

                “The Ala Mhigans might be heathens, and the might worship Rhalgr, but they’re not weak or cowardly despite those facts.” She responded, a bit sharply, bringing the group’s focus back to herself. “Perhaps if it had been a generation or three from now, things would be different, but these are the same men and women that fought a civil war against their own ruler because of his madness. Having fought for a decade against their own countrymen to throw of one tyrant, they are not about to let a second one, to their view, conquer them without a struggle.”

The crowd around her murmured thoughtfully, or at least they sounded thoughtful. Whether they were actually putting any stock in her words, she didn’t know. What she did know, however, was the girl on her arm had been pressing against her more and more the longer that she talked, gradually molding herself against Aeliana’s armored side, and the young officer was very much enjoying both the sensation and the attention. The way the girl looked at her with sparkling eyes, the awe and respect that seemed to border on adoration…it was deeply enjoyable, perhaps bordering even on intoxicating. She hadn’t joined the military in order to get that sort of attention, but she certainly didn’t mind this particular side benefit. She might have to invite the girl back to her room at the end of the night, if things continued on like this.

                “You know, I’ve enjoyed your company the whole of this ball, yet you’ve still not graced my ears with your name.” the Reaper murmured lowly in the lull, her circle of admirers falling into their own discussions for the moment, either about what she had said or about other, similar (or conflicting stories) they had heard from other soldiers at other events much like this one.

                “Valeria goe Aeneas Praeses Cassius.” She responded promptly with a fetching blush, using her father’s name, rank, and title as was tradition for those that lacked a rank of their own, and Aeliana’s eyebrows raised slightly. Praeses Cassius goe Aeneas, she knew, was the man chosen by the Emperor to rule Locus Amoenus. Due at least in part to being the Emperor’s (very) distant cousin, but also because the man was an administrator of great talent. She hadn’t known he had daughters, and certainly not ones this attractive.

                “Mmh, a fine name for a shining example of Garlean beauty. And to think that I have been blessed with the companionship of our beloved Emperor’s own cousin and not even known!” Aeliana flattered, shaking her head in partially-feigned dismay as the gave the other girl her best smile, enjoying the way Valeria’s blush deepened in response. Perhaps winning the affections of a highborn would prove easier than she had thought. “Tell me, O Rose of Garlemald, do you have an escort for tonight, or are you alone and without company?”

                “She is most certainly not looking for your company, brute.” A new voice spat, as a young man shouldered his way into the midst of the group, glaring darkly at Aelinana and the girl on her arm. “Valeria, what are you doing wasting your time with van Baelsar’s pet witch?”

                “Having a good time, Marius, since you abandoned your fiancé in an effort to get under the skirt of every serving girl in the palace!” Valeria snapped back, somehow getting even closer to Aeliana, who was suddenly feeling rather less flattered by the noble’s attentions than she had been not minutes before. This was not her preferred meaning when she thought about being between a couple, though admittedly she wasn’t overly found of couples involving men anyway. That being said, getting caught in between a squabbling couple, whatever she thought of the issues between them, was not how she intended to spend the rest of this party. It certainly wasn’t the sort of trouble she wanted to bring to her mentor’s doorstop, but sadly that same desire to prevent problems for her Legate meant she couldn’t just bow out and fade into the crowd. Not only would she appear a coward for so quickly retreating, but she might earn the ire of Valeria and the other youths in the crowd as well.

                “Ah, you’ll have to forgive me, I had not realized that the lovely lady was engaged.” She said calmly, with a friendly (and hopefully placating) smile on her face as she regarded the angry young man across from her, subtly trying to worm herself out of Valeria’s grasp. Unfortunately, the lady seemed quite attached at the moment. “I was glad to keep her company whilst you were otherwise distracted, sir. She was an excellent audience, along with the rest of those around us. You are whom, sir?”

Hopefully, reminding him of their audience would encourage him to simply take his fiancé and depart, rather than cause A Situation in public, before the eyes of half of Garlemald and the Emperor himself. Many of whom were now paying a great deal more attention to our little section of the room than they had been before.

                “Were she engaged or otherwise, she shouldn’t lower herself to waste her attentions of the Black Wolf’s favorite bitch. My name is Marius wir Augustus, Praefectus Castrorum of the Second Imperial Legion. Fourth Cousin to the Emperor.” Came the sneered response, and Aeliana felt her smile become rather fixed, eyes narrowing slightly at the insult and the implication. It was a common one, though no one in the XIVth dared voice it where others might hear them any longer. Not after she had proven it wasn’t her body that had gotten her posted there.  “Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to see a whore with polluted blood such as yourself telling nonsense stories to scrape together what meagre scraps of attention from your superiors that you can.”

                “Small wonder that your fiancé wasn’t eager to spend excessive amounts of time with your discourteous and philandering self.” Aeliana remarked with a calm that she didn’t particularly feel as Ishtar’s miniature avatar landed on her shoulder and scowled darkly at her partner’s interlocutor. There was a rustle in the crowd around them as she failed to display the appropriate fear or appeasement, they expected from someone confronted by a member of the Imperial Family, however distant. Well, if that surprised them, they were about to be truly shocked. “Someone else might take great offense to your behavior and seek redress, but as an officer and a gentlewoman I am well-experienced in the angry words that are the width and breadth of some’s talents.”

Her smile took on a distinctly poisonous edge as those within earshot murmured or gave muffled laughter, and Marius reddened in embarrassment and building anger at both her subtle insult and the amusement of his peers who had witnessed it. As he fumbled for a response, neither used to his attacks being returned nor to them being so ineffective, Aeliana gently removed Valeria’s hands from her arm, gave a slight bow to the crowd, and turned to depart. She had defended herself verbally, proved that she was not a pushover, and was now withdrawing with dignity. Sans companionship for the rest of the night, but given the circumstances she could easily live with that fact.

                “Hey, I didn’t say you could walk away!” Marius squawked indignantly from behind her, and she lifted a hand and lazily waved it over her shoulder in response as she kept right on walking. She had no intention of squabbling with someone like him, someone who probably hadn’t lifted a blade in true battle in his entire life, and certainly not because he was embarrassed about being a shit fiancé.

                “Marius, just leave it! Stop embarrassing yourself, and me for that matter!” she heard Valeria snap behind her, sounding beyond exasperated with her future husband’s behavior. “Twas humiliating enough to have the entire palace watching you chase skirts with me present, never mind this sort of…”

There was a loud smack, a cry of pain, and the indrawn breath of a dozen sets of lungs behind her, and Aeliana froze in disbelief. Making an abrupt and precise about face, she stormed (there was no other word for it) back towards the group, pulling the teary-eyed Valeria, who was cradling one rapidly-reddenning cheek with an expression of shock and distress, behind herself as she squared off with Marius.

                “There aren’t many sorts of people that I truly despise, Marius,” she hissed lowly, jaw tight with her own growing anger, and he seemed to swell at the continued insults she levelled against him with her mode of address.  “Those that beat their partner or family, to whatever degree that person is theirs, are quite high on the list. Do you want to know what I did to the last person I caught doing that?”

#################################################

                “Gaius?” Solus asked calmly and quietly in the brief silence that followed the escalation of the confrontation.

                “It was a mother that beat her children badly, Radiance. All four needed magical healing to survive, and one of them was beaten so badly ‘round the head that he will likely never see again.” Gaius responded promptly, tone dark, though there was a certain satisfaction as well as he continued. “Aeliana had her taken into the town square and tied to a post, her injured children on cots at her feet, and ordered the entire town to present themselves. She detailed their injuries, what she had done to cause them, and declared that she would leave the woman’s punishment in the hands of her neighbors.”

                “Dare I assume that it did not end well for the woman?” Solus wasn’t really asking, honestly, knowing full well how such treatment of children could end for the abuser, and Gaius’ grim headshake confirmed his suspicions. The woman had likely died quite painfully, though whether slow or fast, he wouldn’t care to guess.

                “Grandfather, should we really let them continue from this point? The brat has already struck his fiancé in public, which will cause no end of problems with her father, and I’m quite sure that Quirinius will not tolerate much more nonsense on his part. Especially if he tries to hit her.” Varis pointed out, and Solus hummed thoughtfully as the surrounding crowd spread out and gathered into a ring around the glaring pair. Not receiving a response, his grandson continued. “It wouldn’t end well for him, of course, he’s an incompetent fool, but the political side effects to Quirinius could destroy a promising career.”

                “Or enhance it, once Prases Cassius hears what our mutual cousin did to his precious daughter, and that the Black Wolf’s protégé defended her honor and her health.” Solus pointed out, getting a grimace from both of the men standing beside him, amusement spiking in his heart at their mutual distaste for politicking. Still, Varis had a point. If this girl was who he suspected she was, he wouldn’t tolerate some broken wretch losing his temper and hiring someone to slit her throat because she put him in his place with a handful of words. “Very well. Varis, I think we will leave the intervention to you. He is our cousin, after all, so it is only appropriate that one of us reminds him of his place. Gaius, you will find my grandson’s faithful twins, wherever they are hiding away. They will ensure that young Quirinius stays out of trouble for the rest of the night.”

That didn’t thrill either of the men, but both obeyed without question, Varis marching towards the arguing duo while Gaius headed off with sure steps back the way he had originally come. Somehow, the fact that the man knew exactly where the two Soranus girls were hiding didn’t surprise him. Zodiark, the three of them had probably been hiding together! Enhancing his hearing, he listened in to the continuing squabble.

#############################################

                “You should remember your place, Quirinius. I am your superior officer, of superior rank amongst our people, and related to the Emperor himself! You should be on your knees thanking me for even giving you the chance to apologize for your mistakes!” Marius blustered furiously, gesticulating somewhat wildly, and Aeliana gave an indelicate snort of contempt.

                “You’re not my superior in any respect, though you might outrank me. Your mannerisms are more appropriate for a drunken tavern lout than a gentleman of your exalted rank and relation. Not only do you abandon your fiancé at an event such as this, but you do so in order to chase other women before her very eyes. You are a cad, a rake, and in my opinion a disgrace to both your bloodline and your uniform.” She shot back, ignoring the gasps around her. A small voice in the back of her mind, one that sounded remarkably like her Legate, was telling her that she had pushed her luck past the breaking point, but she ignored it. Her blood was up, her temper roused, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon if this bastard kept opening his damn mouth. Besides which, all the restraint she possessed at the moment was being used to make sure her seething, far less morally inclined voidsent didn’t exsanguinate him in front of the entire empire.

                “How dare you…!” he started, and she couldn’t resist the opportunity.

                “Quite easily.” She cut in sardonically, getting another chorus of gasps and quiet titters of nervous amusement, and his face turned such a shade of puce she wondered for a moment if he was about to have some manner of apoplexy.

                “Your uncouth, barbaric, disgraceful behavior and constant insults leave me no choice but…” Marius started, and Aeliana’s blood seemed to congeal in her veins as she realized that she was about to be challenged to a duel. She had pushed him too far, and now things were in motion that she couldn’t stop. She would have no choice but to accept, and no matter what the result was, it would be terrible (likely fatal) for her. Not to mention the trouble it would bring down on her mentor’s head!

                “To do nothing, cousin.” A severe tone cut his words and her fears off, only to replace them with new ones as the towering, living wall that was Varis van Galvus appeared, glowering at both of them, and the entire crowd took several step backs as Aeliana and Marius swallowed nervously. Though not officially declared heir, it was a well-known and accepted fact that he was the one most likely to rise to the throne when his grandfather passed away.

                “Cousin, this foul brute…!” Marius started to bluster, clearly hoping for filial support in the argument, only to be cut off by an imperious wave of Varis’ hand.

                “Grandfather and I are well aware of what Aeliana rem Quirinius has done: entertained a group of her peers with stories of glory from the battlefield and the provinces. That one of those peers was your neglected fiancé is no fault of hers. As for you,” his attentions turned to Aeliana, and she stiffened to something rather like attention. “Though I appreciate your desire to defend the young lady’s health and honor, you will comport yourself with more grace. Whatever issues you might take with my cousin’s behavior, standing in the middle of my grandfather’s hall insulting one another is unacceptable for any scion of Garlemald, never mind an officer. The two of you will not address one another the rest of the night, nor will you send others to do so in your stead.”

His eyes swept over the rest of the group, paralyzed as they were by the mingled nervousness and fascination the situation called for. He didn’t need to say a word, simply arched one pale eyebrow, and they scattered like leaves before a stiff autumn breeze, leaving only herself, Marius, and his fiancé with the assumptive heir.

                “Miss Aeneas, perhaps you ought to make yourself comfortable amongst the other young ladies of court for the rest of tonight’s events.” He suggested mildly, and the girl around whom the entire conflict had revolved flushed (highlighting the mark on her face) and curtseyed deeply before leaving. “Aeliana rem Quirinius, you will spend the rest of the night in the company of my officers, the Soranus sisters, to ensure that there are no further incidents. You, cousin, will be spending the rest of the night with me. It seems I must remind you that relation to the Emperor does not excuse disgracing his household with public and flagrant misbehaviors.”

A small gesture of one large hand turned Aeliana’s attention towards a stern Gaius van Baelsar, and the two young women in complementary deep blue and crimson dresses standing a half-step behind him. She eyed them from afar, knowing that her mentor would not be speaking with her tonight, but that she would no doubt receive quite the lecture in the morning. The fact that she would have minders the rest of the night wasn’t particularly appreciated either, though she had to confess it was probably not unreasonable under the circumstances. Still, she mused thoughtfully with approval, at least they were attractive. And twins at that!

                “We will discuss this in the morning. Annia, Julia, you have your instructions.” Her legatus said briskly the moment she halted in front of him, turning on his heel and retreating the way he had come as quickly as possible. Probably trying to hide from the single women and the plotting matriarchs with passels of marriageable daughters, no doubt. His profound reluctance to attend balls was one of the few things about him that baffled her. Even if he loved Livia, which she believed he did, for all he gruffly ordered her about like any other subordinate (much to the tribune’s delight, it must be said) and pretended otherwise, events such as this presented such opportunity for a man as great as he. Why did he not take advantage of it?

                “Quirinius?” the voice of the Soranus in blue drew her from her thoughts, and she blinked before returning her attention to the two of them.

                “Ah, my ladies, forgive me for my introspection. I was simply contemplating how best to thank your honored legatus for his assistance with his cousin. You are fortunate to serve so imposing a commander.” She said immediately with a courtly bow, forgoing a salute given their civilian dress. Taking a heartbeat to examine them again at this closer range, she continued. “Of course, he is all the more fortunate to have the confidence and companionship of the two icons of the lethal grace and incredible beauty that defines Garlean women that I see before me.”

They rolled their eyes together, but a faint dusting of pink on their cheeks gave there appreciation away. Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be a total loss, if she was going to have a pair of identical twins for company. Even if it stayed entirely innocent (and she was really rather hoping otherwise), it would be an enjoyable time. If nothing else, they could commiserate (politely, and with all due decorum and demurral) about their commanding officers.

                “Well, if I’m going to be blessed with such pleasant company for the rest of the night, and out of a desire to prevent causing either of our lords more difficulties, perhaps we should find someplace quiet and out of the way in order to entertain ourselves the rest of the night? Unless, of course, you wish remain? I shouldn’t want to force you to abandon the party if you were enjoying yourselves…?” she voiced the less-lurid part of her desires tentatively, and almost giggles at the way the two immediately perked up and assured her that they wouldn’t mind whatsoever if the three of them were to depart the party and find someplace quieter to chat. It seemed that they were as fond of parties as her own lord was.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to find a quiet, empty lounge, devoid of any of the wealthy and unfamiliar-with-struggle movers and shakers of Garlean society. It also didn’t take long for a servant to find them and deliver a small platter of food and a bottle of fine wine. That was a little strange, at least until the twins explained to her that more than a few of the servants in the Imperial Palace were quite familiar with people (like the two of them and Lord van Baelsar) that liked to avoid political entanglements as much as possible, and were well prepared for it.

And, from what Aeliana gathered in the conversations that followed, the Soranus twins loathed political entanglements with a passion almost beyond words. A loathing made all the stronger by how much the inevitable politics involved with their own ranks and postings, those of Varis’ left and right hands, complicated their lives. Everyone either assumed that they were whoring themselves out to their legate for their positions, or were so terrified of him that they either ignored the women entirely or treated them like emotionless soldiers rather than women with needs and desires and emotions.

Aeliana had to admit (even if only to herself) that she didn’t really understand that, having never had that particular issue, even as a subordinate of van Baelsar…but perhaps that wasn’t a fair comparison. As well respected and adored as Gaius van Baelsar was, he was still ‘just’ a general. Varis was essentially the heir to the empire, and their ranks in his legion were far higher than her own in Varis’. The scrutiny that they had to be under, with those two factors combined, were doubtless far beyond anything Aeliana had ever experienced. They were lonely, the only unrestrained and genuine emotional connection they possessed being with one another.

                “Well, I don’t know that I can offer you what you’re looking for, but I can tell you that while I respect your talents on the battlefield and look up to you as officers and examples of what a woman can be in Garlemald, I certainly see the two of you as women.” Aeliana finally said, after a few minutes of contemplative, semi-companionable silence. “You’re both beautiful, you’re graceful, you’re unique despite your similarities. Neither of you have anything to be ashamed of, neither of you are somehow lesser than those girls out there. In fact, if it came down to spending a night with Valeria or spending the night with the two of you, she wouldn’t even enter into my thoughts.”

The two looked at each other for a long, long moment, having an entire conversation without a single word being spoken, before they turned back to her with faint blushes and the looks of someone who had come to a decision.

                “Would you like to come back to our room, Aeliana?” asked one with poise.

                “Just for tonight, you understand.” Warned the other with dignity, and Aeliana wondered at her good fortune, even as she nodded with as much restraint as she could, trying not to grin with glee. Tomorrow would bring its own struggles, she was sure, not the least of which was the fallout of the verbal battle she had had tonight, but for now she was going to enjoy herself. She might not love the twins, they might not love her, but they were beautiful and willing, and she was beautiful and interested. Why should they not enjoy themselves in the here and now?

Let tomorrow bring what it might.

###########################################################

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Another day, another chapter! Welcome to Chapter Four of Dawn is Just A Heartbeat Away!

If you love FFXIV, love quests, or both, head on over the my quest The Epic of the Steel-Fated Hero on Questionable Questing! It’s three chapters in and is looking to go so delightfully off the canon rails it should be hilarious!

The next story to be updated will be Shadows and Dust!

Finally, please consider updating the TV Tropes for this story!

###########################################################

Dawn Is Just A Heartbeat Away  (Hope Is Just a Sunrise Away)

Chapter Four

###########################################################

Hades didn’t try to hide his amusement as the blushing, stuttering child tried and failed to get a proper apology for ‘ignoring him’ out, remembering another individual that could be a clever-tongued, quick-witted show-woman one moment and a tongue-tied amusement the next. Waving off her apologies and aborted attempts to decide whether she should be kneeling or saluting under the circumstances, he slowly moved up beside her.

                “My mantle of memories, and my most favored painting, to boot.” He repeated, and the girl’s flush deepened.

                “Ah, I’m sorry for wondering the room and not minding my own business, Radiance. You have my deepest apologies for my intrusion.” She apologized again, sounding rather more coherent than previous attempts as she started to get a handle on herself, and he waved his hand again.

                “I hardly expected you to sit in a chair with your eyes shut and your fingers in your ears waiting for my arrival, young lady.” He responded airily, unable to resist placing a slight emphasis on the word as he remembered saying something similar to her previous incarnation far more times than he cared to count. She laughed a little, awkward but genuine, at the mental image before looking back at the mantle, eyes drawn to the painting.

                “The mantle is beautiful, Radiance, and the painting is exquisite. If you will allow me to ask, who are the people beside you? I would have thought to recognize them from my history lessons as a child, or from other images, if they were so familiar with you as to be displayed here, but I have never seen them before.” She asked, and Hades knew her interest was two-fold. The interest of one of his citizens, wondering who could be so close to her ruler as they yet go unrecognized…and the instinctual interest born of unknowing recognition.

                “You would not.” He responded simply, twelve-thousand years of loss suffusing those three words, before continuing. “They were my closest and dearest friends, closer to me than any other could ever dream of being. I lost them…long, long ago, long before the Empire. Longer than I care to remember. The first, the man, was lost to me when he chose to sacrifice his life in order to save my own. Taking my place in a required sacrifice so that I could continue to guide and protect our people, a destiny he felt lay in my hands rather than his own despite my protests.”

He had been angry with Hythlodaeus, so terribly angry, when the other man revealed that he had offered himself to the Convocation in his own place, decreeing that their star had a far greater need for the Guardian of the Aetherial Sea than the Chief of the Bureau of Architects. It was the duty of the Convocation to sacrifice themselves for the sake of the star, he had argued, but Hythlodaeus had been utterly unmoved. Yes, the Convocation served the star, he agreed, but the mighty and wise sorcerer Hades would be a far better guide for the -post-apocalyptic ruins of their home than a single Architect amongst thousands, an architect who (though he had superior Sight to all) was a spell-wielder of abysmal levels.

                “The second, the woman…like the man, she was one dearer to me than any other, but she I had known since we were little more than children. I cannot remember a moment of that time without her involved in some fashion, cannot recall so much as a day of my life before I knew her. She was fierce and proud and brave, a warrior beyond anything you can conceive, and dedicated utterly to the preservation of our people. Nothing was more central to her heart, more significant a part of who she was, than that. Yet it was that dedication that led us to quarrel terribly, the last time I saw her face, and she left. Left and died alone, forsaken, on some distant and gods-forsaken battlefield with my anger in her ears. My condemnations, my bitter words and accusations, believing I hated her and thought her nothing more than a worthless betrayer of all that we stood for. A regret that has been as acid in my veins ever since.”

Oh, his dearest friend, how long had he suffered from the memories of his cruelties to her? Words of appalling wickedness, spoken as known falsehoods to cut and bleed her heart and mind, to give himself the savage satisfaction of hurting her for ‘turning against him’. As if he should have ever expected that any Azem, never mind her, would agree with neither regret nor hesitation to sacrifice half of their people to summon Zodiark, and summon more besides to restore their world to the way it was!

She would not have been the woman she was if she had.

                “What happened?” the fragment asked, and he sighed heavily.

“I won’t do it, Hades. I won’t vote in support of such a measure!”

                “***, you must! The Convocation will not tolerate insubordination this time, not even from you!”

“Damn the Convocation, Hades! Mine is the Seat of Azem, Shepard of the Star and Counselor to the People! No one has the right or the authority to forbid me from carrying out my duties, nor order me to act so directly against it!”

                “It was decided that some multitude of our people would need to be sacrificed to save the rest. Not an easy decision, or one any of us wished to make, but it was acknowledged by all that doing otherwise would result in the loss of us all.” He explained, the echoes of her her vocal, stubborn defiance before the Convocation as she argued with burning passion against the plan resonating through his mind. Better that they took up arms and fought for the future of their world, rather than sacrificing it to summon an icon of fear, she had said. Let them fight until the cause of the Final Days became clear, and remove the problem at it’s source. “All except her. She refused to support the plan, and led those who followed her to meet the enemy head-on. And so she died, along with all those she led and those she sought to protect.”

                “She sounds like a good woman. A woman who would not abandon her principles, her beliefs, to take an easier path when the path forward grew unforgiving.” The fragment said quietly, sounding pleased and respectful of Azem’s choices, and Hades didn’t try to restrain the harsh bark of laughter that the comment tore from his throat as he nodded in agreement. Yes, that was one way to describe her, though he had a few choice adjectives he would add in. There was a moment of silence, both of them looking at the painting, before she continued tentatively. “Did you…was she…that is to say, were you lovers?”

The question was a startling one, an absurd one to his mind. He and Azem, as lovers? Partners of the romantic sort? The idea was absurd, fundamentally absurd! Yet, he couldn’t deny that many of his words, his descriptions of her and of their time together could lead someone to that conclusion, and he shook his head again.

                “No, no, nothing of the sort. We tried, once, somewhat at the urging of our friends and families and somewhat because being together romantically seemed a logical extension of our deep and abiding friendship, but we found it more awkward and embarrassing than enjoyable or arousing and quickly discarded the experiment to return to the way things ought to be. Not long after that, she found she was far, far more interested in women than in men, and I found my own partners.” He explained, getting a thoughtful nod from the fragment. He had to wonder if she was seeing any parallels to her true self and her current, fractured one. Probably. A soul, even broken into pieces, was still the same as it had ever been. Oh, the details might change, the expressions and displays, but souls themselves were immutable.

He still remembered the first time the two of them had attempted to have sex. It had been a disaster in every sense, with the both of them struggling to be aroused. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t found her beautiful, of course, she had (and he thought this with all due impersonal and factual evaluation) been one of the most beautiful people in all of Amaurot. She was also, he had quickly discovered, in a mental box that had long since been labeled with her name and nothing else. It wasn’t quite correct to say he had considered her genderless, he wasn’t blind or stupid, but it had never been much of a part of who she was to him, and he hadn’t been able to change that fact so as to see her as a woman to be desired.

                “At any rate, you would never have heard of the two of them. None in Garlemald would have.” He finished finally, and the fragment nodded again, eyes locked onto her painted face. He considered leaving it at that. He had his confirmation after all, but that didn’t feel enough. No, it wasn’t enough at all. “You remind me a great deal of her, actually, and not least because of your desire for beautiful women and your tendency to get your-self into trouble with them, from what young Gaius tells me.”

He felt no small amount of delight at the way her blush, which had just begun to fade, returned with an intensity he didn’t think was humanly possible without an excessive amount of chemicals. He was having the most fun he had had in decades, and for a moment he was in another time and another place, teasing another radiant-souled heroine with a penchant for passion. She and the fragment both were stern, brave, even stoic. Premier fighters with tongues as wicked as their weapons. The very image of the mighty, awe-inspiring hero. And both were utterly helpless in the face of certain brands of teasing from certain types of people. It would seem so absurd to many, for both soul and fragment, but he knew and understood far better than most that such people wanted a caricature of a hero, a perfect icon, not a living and breathing human being.

                “I am honored, Radiance. She sounds, to me, like a woman well-worth emulating. A true hero.” The fragment said after an embarrassed cough, obviously trying to the change the subject, and he grunted in response, mouth twisting slightly as his thoughts briefly took on a bitter tinge.

                “Yes, a hero until the moment she died.” He agreed, gazing into her laughing eyes. His voice dropped, low and deep and seething, as he continued, more to himself than the fragment. “I will create a world with no need for such heroes.”

That was his dream, his goal, his most heartfelt desire. A return to an ancient perfection where heroics meant putting down disobedient prototype creation entities or helping put a stop to a volcanic eruption, not being torn apart in the midst of an ashen world by demons born of nightmares. He shook his head again, feeling a bit cross for himself. He had never been so prone to emotional reminiscence as he had been since becoming Solus, and it had only grown worse since the ball. Even now, she was driving him to distraction. No doubt his lamentations would only grow in the future, now that he had found a portion of her once more, and one no less troublesome at that.

                “Well, you are quite correct that emulating her is the best course you could ever follow, though I must stress that I thoroughly disapprove of recklessness as a matter of course, and I would certainly echo young Gaius’ recommendations that you make sure any targets of your flirtations do not have possessive or jealous lovers waiting in the wings.” He said finally, pushing the memories back yet again. The fragment gave an awkward giggle, bobbing her head rapidly in agreement, and he continued. “You need not fear retaliation from my foolish kinsman. My grand-son made clear to him, and I shall make it clearer still, that his behavior was unacceptable for a scion of my House. His betrothment with the young lady will doubtlessly not survive her father’s wrath, though I advise you be careful about accepting any rewards or proposals from him. His gratitude will be genuine, but so will his desire to achieve any ulterior motives he might possess. And he will possess them.”

                “I understand, Your Radiance.” She murmured, ducking her head, which only grew lower as he rapped her skull sharply with aged knuckles.

                “I hope that you do. Your courage, fortitude, and morale strength do great credit to both yourself and your mentor, but do not imagine that they will ensure you victory, safety, or happiness in this world. They are only capable of taking you so far, and if you do not temper your brashness and your obstinacy, you might find that ‘so far’ is rather less than you might hope or imagine.”

The warning was entirely genuine. While he acknowledged, despite his wishes otherwise, that she would doubtless die in one of the Rejoinings or on a battlefield as she spread the chaos required to enact them, he did not wish to see even a fragment of his beloved friend rejoin the Lifestream due to gross stupidity or arrogance. It would shame the soul entire.

                “I…I will obey, Radiance. I will not lie and say that I fully understand, but I will obey. I swear that I will not disappoint you or my Lord Gaius.” The promise, despite her lack of understanding, was a fervent one. One that was meant, but it wasn’t enough. Testing her with the stone wasn’t enough. Her reaction to the painting wasn’t enough.

Long fingers reached out, flicking open the case, to extract the Constellation Stone. A flicker of aether, invisible to the fragment, resulted in a large linked chain trailing behind it, and he held it tight in his hand for a long, long moment before turning to face her fully. A wordless twirl of his finger had her turning to face him, and he reached out to settle the freshly-forged necklace around her neck, the symbol of Azem gleaming between her armored breasts.

                “See that you do not. I am entrusting this, the mark of my most beloved friend, to you. Perhaps, with you, some fractured portion of her shall wander the world once more, banishing its evils and bringing Light to it’s people.” He said, and she stared at him with wide eyes, shaking her head in mingled disbelief and refusal.

                “Radiance, I cannot possibly accept this! It is one of the few things you still have that belonged to her, a precious relic from someone you lost. It should remain here, safe, not go with me from battlefield-to-battlefield half a star away from you.” She protested, her own hands going to the chain, planning to remove it and the gem it held from her body, but he gripped her shoulders tightly with a strength that was doubtlessly surprising for a man as old as he.

                “This is not a request, suggestion, or invitation. This is a command from your sovereign. You will take that crystal. You will protect it, cherish it, keep it on your person every waking moment of every day. You will honor the memory of my dearest friend, you will continue to serve her ideals.” He ordered in a tone of clear command, one that would permit no further disobedience or protest, and she swallowed heavily before nodding, ducking her head in submission. Satisfied both in that obedience and its genuine nature, he released his grip on her limbs and stepped back slightly.

He was playing with fire, he knew, tempting fate by providing a Constellation Stone to a fragment without consulting the other members of the Convocation, or at least his fellow Paragons. Never mind providing this entirely illicit Constellation Stone to a fragment of the ‘treacherous’ Fourteenth Seat. He was actually somewhat surprised that his god was not punishing him for doing so, but perhaps Lord Zodiark was not Rejoined enough to do so? It was not as though he had ever acted so unilaterally and in a way that was not directly in pursuit of a Rejoining before, and this certainly could not be claimed to be an act that would bring about a Rejoining, not by any stretch of the imagination.

None-the-less, it was a decision he had made and would, if time were wound back, make again. It was not, after all, as if a single young woman, no matter whose fragment she was or how talented a fighter, could possibly prevent the oncoming Calamity. If she managed, somehow, to survive Dalamud’s fall, the idea that she would live long enough for the Calamity after that to occur was absurd. Far more likely was it that she would die on some distant battlefield, as the soul had, and he would reclaim the Constellation Stone from her casket. Yet even with that being the case, he still would have given some small aid and comfort to a fragment of that precious soul.

A miniscule tithe to a colossal debt.

                “What was her name?” the fragment’s question was quiet but serious, and he hesitated for what seemed an eternity before responding.

                “Eos. Her name was Eos.” He responded finally, and she nodded as she wrapped a hand around the Stone. There was a pulse of aether, and before his very eyes a small, continuous circuit of soul energy began flowing between fragment and object. A circuit that, if it had not already been confirmed by the hue of the fragment, would have confirmed her Amaurotine identity.

                “Eos. I will remember her name, Radiance, and I will honor it until my final breath.” She vowed solemnly, and he nodded again before dismissing her back to her legate’s side. The door shut behind her, leaving him alone once again, and he returned his gaze to the painting. A ripple flowed across it’s surface as the minor glamour he had placed upon it faded away like a light mist before a strong breeze.

The changes the glamour had made were minor, even miniscule. Just enough to subtly shift the features of Azem, to make the…family resemblance less obvious. It wouldn’t have done for the fragment to see them, to recognize them and wonder why one of her emperor’s oldest friends looked very much like herself. In fact, looked exactly like she would probably look in another decade or so. As beneficial as her suddenly being a rumored grand-child or great-grandchild of his, making the inevitable civil war that would kick off upon his death (Nerva was going to try and proclaim himself Emperor, Hades was positive about that) even more chaotic, he found himself oddly reluctant. Using even the meanest fragment of Eos as a pawn in the political strife he intended for Garlemald sat ill with him, and he rationalized it as being a pointless complication. She lacked the support or the power-base to affect the results in any meaningful way, so why bother?

There was a knock on the door, one of his adjutants opening it and quietly reminding him that his next scheduled duty was rapidly approaching, and he felt an almost-nostalgic smile briefly crease his lips. Another lecture to her soul, followed by her departing on an adventure, followed by him being stuck in meetings for the rest of the day.

Some things, it seemed, echoed across the millennia.

#############################################################

Gaius van Baelsar rocked slightly with the motion of the transport as it made it’s way through the occasionally-tumultuous air towards Ala Mhigo, hardly noticing after so many years of service, his attention thoroughly focused on his slightly-frowning, deeply contemplative protégé.

Aeliana had been virtually silent since they had left the Imperial Palace, observing only the courtesies entirely required of her, and even then doing so with a distinctly distracted air. Obviously, whatever had happened during her meeting with the Emperor had made a great impression upon her, and he was willing to bet every coin he possessed that it had to do with her new necklace.

It was beautiful despite it’s simplicity, but it was not the sort of necklace that a young woman, never mind a young soldier, would receive from an Emperor who was grateful for the young woman’s gallant defense of an imperial cousin. Nor did it seem to be any form of punishment or possess malignant traits, not that he would imagine His Radiance ever doing that. The man wasn’t pointlessly cruel, wasn’t a monster mutilating and butchering for personal amusement like Zenos, nor would he prevaricate in such a way. If he wanted to punish Aeliana, he would have done so, and he would have made sure that Gaius was aware of it as well.

He was considering how to breach the subject with her, how to coax her from her silence, when she finally broke it of her own accord.

                “You grew up with the Emperor’s son, right sir?” she asked quietly, and he blinked in surprise, not remotely having expected that question.

                “Yes, Julius and I were very close indeed as children. It would not be unfair to say that I was at their home just as much as I was my own, and vice-versa.” He confirmed, curious as to where she was going with this, and somewhat pleased that she remembered that. He had mentioned once, in passing, that fact when mourning his dead friend on Julius’ nameday. It had been little more than a handful of words during a short interaction, but it seemed she had not forgotten it despite that, nor had she ever mentioned it again. Though, now that he had cause to think about it, there had been many times after that, on that particular anniversary (and that of Julius’ death, for that matter) where she had done seemingly random and minor acts of kindness or comfort. Ever so stoically, of course.

It seemed his protégé was quite subtle and cunning when she wanted to be comforting while allowing the both of them to save face.

                “Did…did you ever hear someone named Eos get mentioned? An old friend of his, a comrade?”

The question was tentative, even hesitant, and Gaius realized that this question, or at least whatever had brought it to mind, was what had been weighing on her since her meeting with the Emperor.

                “I do not believe so…” he answered slowly, glancing at the necklace thoughtfully. “Not that I can recall in front of me, at any rate, but I was little more than a child at the time. Once I got older, I was less his son’s childhood friend and more his loyal subordinate. Not the sort of person with whom he would have emotional recollections of old friends. Deceased friends, I assume?”

                “Yes, he…this gem, the necklace, it used to belong to her.” She said, before going on to explain everything that His Radiance had said about the woman. The reason for the depth of her thoughts was obvious to the meanest mind once he was fully informed. A heavy burden had been placed on her shoulders, a mantle of great emotional significance to their ruler that she had been commanded to live up to. As her explanation wound down and she fell silent for a long moment, he recognized the look of someone grappling with what else to say. “I…I don’t know what to do, sir. How can I live up to someone I know so little about? How can I possibly hope to match up to a woman that was a contemporary and close friend of the emperor himself?”

                “To the first, I would say only that you should continue as you are. If he feels that you are like her, that you remind him of her, as you have lived your life and comported yourself thus far, than I can only say to continue being the kind of person you have been until this point.” He proposed, and she looked flabbergasted by that simple piece of advice. Well, she was young and in some not-so-minor turmoil at the moment, so perhaps he shouldn’t hold her sudden degradation in cognition against her. Though perhaps some extra training on maintaining her ability to think critically and discerningly while under such stresses was in order. “To the second, he didn’t command that you match up to her, only that you honor her. The difference seems subtle, but is significant. One is an impossibility, a goal that cannot be attained and would serve only to torture you as you failed. The other is entirely possible and well within your capabilities. Stop driving yourself into a frenzy with feelings of inadequacy and hesitation. They will provide you with no benefits and will only hamper you in your efforts.”

Yes, if there was one overarching flaw that Aeliana had, it was her penchant for second-guessing herself into oblivion. On the battlefield she was decisive, quick-minded, clever, and talented. It was only when she had the time for doubt that she was afflicted. The shadows of her past, it seemed, clung to her tightly despite his efforts. Well, it would be a long, long time yet before she would serve far from his side. He had more than enough time to finish polishing this gem to radiance.

Settling back in his seat, The Black Wolf began quietly planning his next series of lessons for the girl he hoped would one day succeed him.

############################################################################

Chapter Text

Special Thanks to Jade Isentry on QQ for PMing me about this story, and to BigBoom for updating his own FFXIV story and causing me to want to work on this one again!

Like, comment, subscribe, make the thread move!

######################################################################

Dawn is Just a Heartbeat Away (Hope Is Just a Sunrise Away)

Chapter Five

######################################################################

Laughter, chatter, and the sound of utensils and mugs striking would echoed through the small stone-and-wood establishment of The Raging Fist tavern. It was dimly lit within, the windows (small, to keep the interior cool by warding of the heating rays of the sun) providing little in the way of light, the large hearth fireplace and various candle-lamps adding only enough to prevent traversing the space from being outright dangerous.

A dozen tables and booths were scattered before, between, and around the space between the worn counter of the bar and the hearth, all of them filled with relaxing Garlean soldiers. Eating, drinking, playing cards or laughing the night away, they were a portion of the local garrison that were freshly off duty from their daily tasks.

Through and around them wended a single dusky-skinned miqo’te girl, wearing a simple dress of tan and green, her orange, slit-pupiled eyes gleaming in the low light, peach-colored hair pulled back into a tight bun to keep it far from the food and drink she was delivering with deft grace to each of the tables in turn.

Naago of the Marmot Tribe of the Seekers of the Sun, called M’naago Rahz by non-Seekers, was a proud daughter of Ala Mhigo. Raised in the sheltered, sole-remaining village of her people atop the Peering Stones of Gyr Abania’s fringe territories, the majority of their lands and many of their people lost to Garlean encroachment and Qalyana treachery, she had learned duty and patriotism alongside her mother’s milk.

Much to her father’s mingled pride and distress, pride and distress that had only grown when she had tried to join the Ala Mhigan Resistance. His response had been to have her hauled home where he had sat her down and informed her that she was under no circumstances whatsoever to fight the Garleans until she had mastered the Arts of the Hunter. Brave but foolish young warriors getting themselves in over their heads was why the tribe was down to a mere handful of the numbers that they had once held. That his daughter might suffer the same fate, dying in the dust after biting off far more than she could chew (or, worse, being made a plaything of some conquering beast of a Garlean), was thoroughly unacceptable. If she wished to fight, it would only be when she was ready by he himself, and fully an adult.

That had been three years ago, and she had never been more excited in her life to be informed by her somewhat morose father that he was now, at long last, giving her his blessing. She had hugged him, promised to be careful and to visit whenever possible, vowed to free their homeland and help return the Marmot Tribe to the towering heights at which it had once stood, and raced off to join the Resistance and fight for Ala Mhigo’s freedom at last.

Conrad Kemp, an old friend of her father’s, had been reluctant to put her at risk, but she had been insistent on working just as hard and just as dangerously as her fellow revolutionaries. An old friendship was no reason for her to receive special treatment, but his trust. He had finally agreed, and assigned her to a mission that was far from the battlefield, but no less dangerous despite that fact.

Working in one of the occupied settlements and passively gathering intelligence there by listening to the Garleans talk amongst themselves and watching things like troop rotations. Savages were beneath notice, after all. Which is how she had ended up working as a waitress in one of many bars, a bar that had basically been taken over by the Garleans as their local watering hole. It hadn’t even been hard to get the job. The owner had been desperate for help, most unwilling to work in such close proximity to the imperials, and she was a cute miqo’te girl.

She worked as often as possible, saving up money to donate to the Resistance when she wasn’t using it to buy resources for her tribe, resources that they couldn’t easily get for themselves. It wasn’t the most fun, or the easiest, but she had been careful about the settlement she chose. The tribunus assigned to this area was well-known throughout Ala Mhigo for having very little patience for molesters and the like, though M’naago would have tolerated it if she had been forced to do so for her homeland. Fortunately, she not only would have to deal with thoroughly uninvited attention from Garlean soldiers, but the very reason for her safety was an intelligence opportunity par excellance.

Aeliana rem Quirinius was not just a woman known for her relative fairness, but for being the personal protégé of Gaius van Baelsar himself. The kind of intelligence that could be gathered, even through osmosis and simply keeping her ears open, from The Black Wolf’s closest student and rising star was unimaginable, it’s value genuinely priceless.

The Reaper was also known for one other thing: her appreciation of beautiful women. She was scrupulous to avoid engaging with any of her subordinates, despite Garlemald’s willingness to ignore such a thing (M’naago was positive, for example, that the entire planet knew that Baelsar was sleeping with his second in command), and she avoided Ala Mhigans just as carefully. Though not, she had heard, due to distaste, but rather a desire to not be seen as abusing her power.

M’naago hoped to change that. To worm her way into the Garlean’s confidence and attentions, gathering what information she could through the intimacy of ‘pillow talk’ and careful snooping through the tribunus’s effects whenever possible. A dangerous plan, one that she knew her father and Conrad both would have vehemently opposed, but she was determined.

There was a slight commotion outside, a vaguely female voice saying something, and M’naago’s ears pricked up as her eyes turned to the door just in time to see it swing open, admitting the target of her plot, semi-armored and looking exhausted. Eyes across the bar turned instinctively to the door, and more than a few of her ‘patrons’ shot to their feet and saluted sharply, only to be waved back into their seats as she made her way to one of the bar stools and slumped into it. Sensing opportunity, M’naago made a couple of minute, but enticement-enhancing adjustments to her clothing before quickly making her way over to the tired officer.

                “What can I get you, Tribunus?” she asked with a radiant smile that was painfully hollow, and the other woman gave her a searching look that was as thorough as it was scrupulously polite, lingering not in the least as it brushed over the smooth skin of her breast’s upper curve.

                “Aeliana, please. There is no rank in a tavern, miss, no rank at all.” She responded kindly, a smile that was far more genuine than Naago’s own despite how reserved it was. “Ale, if you please, without any sort of punch, and two of whatever the special of the night is. I’m as hungry as I am tired.”

                “Of course, Tri-…I mean, Aeliana.” Naago smiled and bowed, trying to get the angle just right to improve the Garlean’s view. Her tongue fumbled over the woman’s name, and she rather doubted it had any of the sultry purr (one that she had tried to ignore the implications of, whenever her mother or one of her aunts had used it on her father) that she had tried to inject into it. Still the reaper refused to take note of her as a woman, and she frowned slightly as she made her way towards the ale with an absent call of instruction to the cook. This was certainly not going to plan, and for a moment she almost regretted the fact that Aeliana was not a lust-filled conqueror intent on staking her claim on a savage.

Pouring the ale was a task of moments, muscle memory easily dealing with the matter, and she turned back to her target just in time to see one of the lower-ranked troopers (clearly egged on by her compatriots) get to her feet and make her way over to the bar.

                “Tribunus, you’ve just gotten back from Garlemald?” she asked, sounding as excited as she did nervous, and Aeliana’s head bobbed with a soft noise of affirmation. “Is it true that you dueled one of the Emperor’s cousins in the midst of the ball because his fiancé fell in love with you and broke of their engagement?”

                “What? Of all the…no, of course it isn’t true! By the Star, I just got back from an 18 hour flight not a half-bell ago! I know scuttlebutt is fast, but this is ridiculous!” the tribunus groaned, sounding more resigned than angry, which the woman only seemed to take as encouragement to press the issue.

                “C’mon, ma’am, you know scuttlebutt moves faster than airships! So what really happened then, because half the legion and all the auxiliaries are convinced you battled him to the death before the Emperor Himself before sweeping his fiancé off her feet and carrying her back to your barracks in a whirlwind romance.”

M’naago was, in all honesty, entirely unsure of how to feel about what she was witnessing, even as she approached the counter to the sound of Aeliana attempting to demure and deflect. Of course, in the true fashion of soldiers, that just meant that the woman and the listeners (now consisting of essentially the whole bar) started baiting her in an effort to loosen her tongue. Not that it seemed to working, and M’naago noted with wry amusement that her target’s self-control seemingly extended beyond the merely sensual. Maybe a different angle?

                “Here, Tribunus, your ale. What’s this about you stealing someone’s wife?” she asked, putting the ale down in front of the officer, who groaned again, even louder than before as her hand curled around the ale. She took a sullen sip, before looking over at her subordinate.

                “Good work there, Legionaire, now you’ve got the locals that aren’t auxiliaries thinking strange things about me. For your information, I actually defended the girl when her fiancé got abusive.” She said, the other woman looking briefly a bit more nervous, though there was plenty of interest in the story as well. Interest that M’naago honestly kind of shared.

                “Well, you can’t leave it at that, Aeliana. Go ahead and tell us, tell me, all about how you saved a sweet and innocent maiden just like me from the predations of a callous, wicked rake of a man.” She teased, leaning on the counter and giving her an encouraging grin. The tribunus resisted for a moment longer, before finally nodding with a sigh.

                “Fine, but only in an effort clear up all of these nonsensical theories and rumors that seem to by flying around. They get too bad, the homeland might hear about it, and the last thing I want to do is get the Imperial Family pissed off at me because they think I can’t keep my mouth shut.” She said firmly, stressing the words to make it clear why she was giving in, but judging by the excitement around her, M’naago didn’t think anyone particularly cared. “So, there I am in the Imperial Palace…”

M'naago listened carefully and, despite her desire to gather information for the use of her people, actually found herself somewhat enjoying the story. It certainly painted an amusing picture, with Aeliana inadvertently getting herself involved in what amounted to a quarrel between a young woman desperate for some romantic attention and a man who apparently wanted to give it to literally anyone and everyone else possible besides her. Though she didn’t entirely agree with dragging some random, unaware bystander into the situation, she could appreciate the noble girl’s desire to stick it to her unfaithful pig of a fiancé.

Some things were universal, it seemed, stretching across lands and nations and species alike.

Several of the Garleans looked surprised when she said as much, and she knew why. Seekers were known for being polygamist, so the idea that she would take issue with this man’s behavior doubtless seemed shocking to them. To her surprise, it was Aeliana who explained.

                “Seeker men earn their women and the sister-wives are friends and allies. What Marius was doing was a betrayal of their relationship, something sneaky and underhanded. There is nothing hidden amongst a Seeker family, nor any desire to hide it. The situations are as different as can be.” She had said, looking to M’naago for confirmation, who had nodded in surprised approval. Oh, there was certainly a bit more to it than that, more cultural baggage and implications, but Aeliana’s explanation had been as accurate as it was possible to be without being a Seeker herself or spending several days lecturing on the nuances.

The story had continued, with Marius’ implications against Aeliana drawing an angry rumble from the crowd, and M’naago couldn’t help but marvel at it. Not only did her troopers genuinely respect her, they seemed offended at the notion that she had slept her way to success. She was surprised by that, more than familiar with how many male (and female) subordinates liked to bitterly comment on their female superiors, and this time it was the first woman, the female legionnaire, that explained upon spotting her expression.

                “The Fourteenth doesn’t tolerate nepotism. If the tribunus was the type to fuck her way to success, Lord Gaius never would have bothered with her in the first place. She’d likely as not be back in some cushy posting in the homeland, sleeping with someone like Marius and living a lazy and wealthy life.” She said proudly, before casting an admiring eye to Aeliana. “Besides, she’s a Reaper. You can’t survive that training, never mind pass it and bind a voidsent, if you’re incompetent. It’s like, like…”

The woman was obviously grasping for a good comparison and failing to find one, before brightening.

                “Your lot revered those monks, yeah? They were the greatest heroes and fighters of Ala Mhigo before that mad king of yours killed them all?” she threw out, and M’naago forced herself to nod calmly and not bristle at the casual way the invader was talking about the slaughter of the sacred Fists of Rhalgr. “Well, there you are then. Saying that she slept her way to her rank is like saying one of your monks only succeeded in getting their position because they were fucking the grandmaster. Maybe even more so. Without the original Reapers, our people would have been slaughtered by the invaders before they could settle in Garlemald.”

M'naago’s ears pricked up in interest at that. She had never heard of this, and she was considering asking about it when Aeliana plowed on with the story, seeming uncomfortable with the praise being heaped upon her and her position.

Instead, she spoke about the argument (vaguely, M’naago noticed, only saying that there was a verbal confrontation that had nearly turned physical) before explaining that Varis van Galvus had stepped in himself to put a stop to things, with Aeliana being assigned a pair of babysitters to keep her out of trouble and the erstwhile Marius being hauled off by the Emperor’s grandson for a lesson in manners.

There were plenty of holes in the story, but as disappointed as M’naago was, she wasn’t surprised. Officers weren’t much different anywhere, and avoiding going into too much detail of the failings of superiors or events that might embarrass them was hardly unusual. Besides, she had already garnered far more information than she had expected for her first attempt, and while part of that was doubtlessly due to Aeliana’s obvious exhaustion, she thought the woman might actually like her to some degree. She would have to try and leverage that, carefully.

The story over, and most of the sordid details remaining unspoken, the legionnaire went back to her table and the whole bar lost interest in anything besides their games, food, and drink, leaving M’naago and Aeliana alone at the counter.

The rest of the shift was quite peaceful, Aeliana steadily working her way through the two meals (and a not insignificant amount of ale) that she had ordered, cleaning the plates entirely and having two full sweet rolls for dessert. An impressive appetite for a woman that wasn’t on the particularly tall or bulky side, especially not by Garlean standards. There wasn’t anything further in actual substance that was discussed, merely casual conversation, no different than between any two people meeting in the street.

It was…almost pleasant. M’naago was used to more or less being ignored, acknowledged only when absolutely necessary. Admittedly, that was better than being molested or harassed or constantly degraded, but being treated as something other than a mobile piece of furniture was rather nice. It wasn’t anywhere close to making her forget that this woman represented the nation that had imposed their iron-fisted rule over her own, but nice all the same.

When the tribunus finally finished eating, the night had grown long and dark and there were only a handful of patrons left. Getting to her feet and laying quite a bit of gil on the table, enough to cover all she had eaten and a heft tip as well, the woman gave M’naago a small but (to the miqo’te’s eyes) genuine smile.

                “You’ve been good company, M’naago, and I thank you for it. Your payment and more, with my gratitude for putting up with my demands and for the conversation. It was all quite enjoyable.” She said, and M’naago gave her a smile in response that was, to her own surprise, at least partially genuine. Not a large portion, perhaps, but a portion all the same.

                “I’ve been glad to offer it, especially to a gallant hero, roaming the world and protecting fair maidens from terrible, dead-end romances.” She teased lightly in response, enjoying the groan the Garlean, before leaning forward and tracing her fingers across the counter-top. “Listen, I work every other night from Fourth Water to First Frost…?”

She let herself trail off, trying to sound as inviting as possible, and Aeliana looked at her for a long, long moment, eyes searching her own for something, and M’naago briefly wondered if the tribunus could somehow see something in her eyes that would give her away as a member of the Resistance and an attempted honey-trap. She had suspected, and after hours of conversation knew for a fact, that the other girl wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but surely that didn’t allow her to pull facts out of the air…?

                “Well, I just might have to rework my budget to eat out a few times a week, then, instead of making something for myself in my quarters.” She finally said, her small smile getting ever-so-slightly larger, and she backed away from the counter before heading for the door with a wave of farewell over her shoulder.

####################################################################

Two months passed. Two months of Aeliana coming in nigh-religiously every night M’naago worked, spending the whole of the night chatting with her when possible and tipping her well when she left. Two months of gleaning what information she could from the most innocent conversations. Two months of listening to the other Garleans tease the tribunus about her fascination with ‘that savage girl’, and two months of listening to Aeliana fire back with a quick and razor sharp wit.

By the middle of the third month, M’naago had noticed that she was actually looking forward seeing Aeliana, and not for what paltry information or gossip the other girl was providing her. She actually enjoyed being with the invader, enjoyed spending time with her and speaking to her.

Enjoyed seeing the way that her eyes lit up as she described the things that excited her, enjoyed the honest conversations that they had about their nations, their people, their cultures and customs.

By the start of the fourth month, Aeliana was waiting for her shift to end and walking her back to the small, easy-to-build Garlean ‘prefabricated shelters’ that M’naago called home. Not long after that, Aeliana had given her a kiss goodnight for the first time, and M’naago had realized two things: first, she had successfully garned the attention and interest from Aeliana that she had been searching for when she began this entire enterprise. Second, she wasn’t particularly happy about that.

Though perhaps it was more accurate to say that M’naago the Resistance Member wasn’t terribly happy about it. M’naago the Woman, on the other hand, was perhaps a bit too happy about it. Which was the only explanation for why she had agreed to what was, by any measure, a genuinely terrible idea.

That being watching her ‘object of interest’ (that seemed like a safe thing to say, right? Labels could be such terrifying things…) training with her fellow Garleans and overseeing the drills of her direct subordinates. She had justified it to herself with the admittedly-accurate thought that she could gather an incredible amount of information, not to mention the ability to further infiltrate the garrison, but the small, strong, strident voice in the back of her head that had grown steadily louder over the last weeks was telling her something else entirely.

That Aeliana wanted to show off for her a little, and that she damn well wanted to be shown off to.

Which had all been well and good, until she found herself face to face with what was, arguably, the literal face of her nightmares.

                “So. You are the Ala Mhigan that has so deftly enraptured my student.” Gaius van Baelsar, Conqueror of Ala Mhigo and Legatus of the XIVth Imperial Legion, known across the whole of the star by his epithet of The Black Wolf, gazed down at her with a stern expression, arms folded across her chest.

The part of her that wasn’t more than a little terrified was busy marveling over the fact that, without his helm on, The Black Wolf was…actually a rather handsome man. She had always pictured him as a scar-riddled, red-eyed, cruel-tongued beast of a fellow, deathly paled from years of wearing nothing but his armor, yet he looked nothing like that at all. In fact, if she was really going to be honest with herself, his overall appearance and bearing reminded her very much of Conrad, beyond the admittedly minor cosmetic differences.

                “M’naago Rahz.” She managed to get out, and he raised an eyebrow, eyes scanning her up and down with an evaluating, though not necessarily critical, eye. From anyone else she might have thought it perverse, but from this man it seemed more an inspection than anything else.

                “Hmm. Seeker of the Sun, Marmot Tribe. You are a huntress for your people, then?” he asked rhetorically, and M’naago couldn’t help but blink at him in confusion and surprise at his apparent knowledge. Seeing the look, and recognizing the questions there for what they were, he explained. “You have an archer’s build, that much is readily apparent. Your right hand is dominant, the callouses there are slightly heavier and the musculature more developed, but you’ve made a conscious effort to train with both hands, archery and melee alike if I were to guess. A wise choice. It prevents you from being helpless. Correct?”

M'naago could only nod mutely, realizing that the man across from her possessed a mind that was not dangerous only in the fields of tactics and strategy. Oh, she had known Aeliana had discussed her with her mentor, but she was positive that much of what The Black Wolf had said had been based on his own evaluation, not anything that Aeliana had told him.

                “Hmm.” The Legatus grunted, before beckoning her to follow him as he started walking. She hesitated for a moment before obeying, wondering what the hell was going on. A feeling that only grew when their destination turned out to be an archery range, one littered with Garlean auxiliaries working on their shooting. Acknowledging the salutes and greetings that flooded his way as those present took note of him, he gestured to a rack of bows and addressed her. “Select your weapon. I wish to see for myself your competence.”

Not entirely sure what was going on, but not exactly seeing another option at the moment, M’naago obeyed. Inspecting the bows quickly, she tested the weight and the feel of each of the available weapons, before finally settling on one of them with a slight expression of distaste. None of them were right or even approached feeling like her own bow, but these were mass-produced, while her own was custom-made for her hand alone.

A quiver of arrows was quickly retrieved as well, and when she turned to look for an empty target, she found that the entire practicing contingent were lined up outside of the firing lines standing at parade rest, while the Black Wolf was standing at the shooter’s marks with his hands clasped behind his back. Grumbling softly to herself at all the attention, wondering quite bitterly if they were aiming to humiliate her, she stalked over to the mark beside the legatus and took her stance. Her first arrow went wide, to the quiet titters of the soldiers, and she gritted her teeth angrily as she glared at the target hard enough she wouldn’t have been surprised if it burst into flames.

                “You are allowing your emotions to get the best of you. Ignore the audience, ignore their attention. The bow, the arrow, the target. These are the things that matter. The wind, the distance, the elevation. These are your focus.” The Black Wolf rumbled from behind her, sounding so much like her father or one of her childhood instructors that she had to swallow past a lump in her throat. He was right, too, and she worked on settling herself.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she drew and fired again. The arrow flashed across the distance between to sink into the bullseye. Three more arrows followed, then another two, as M’naago drew an X across the center of the target with her shots. Lowering her weapon, she glanced over at the now-silent soldiers with a small smirk of satisfaction on her lips.

                “Good. Very good.” The legatus intoned, before following her gaze to his subordinates and raising his voice. “Take a good look, all of you. This is the difference between the training of a legionnaire and life of a huntress. For one such as our guest, marksmanship is a way of life, a necessity of survival for herself and for her kin. When she hunts to feed herself and her family, she has not the rest of a cohort to strike a target that she misses. If she fails to strike her target, those she loves goes hungry. Let that be a lesson to you: Garlemald may field the finest of soldiers this star has ever seen, but underestimating a warrior that has spent their entire life, from the moment they could walk, honing their skills…that is nothing more than a quick way to a casket.”

With that, he gestured for M’naago to re-rack her equipment and follow him as he moved on, and M’naago had to wonder if that was exactly why she had been brough to the range in the first place. To be used as a part of an object lesson to his soldiers about arrogance?

                “You did well.” He complimented, seemingly genuine, as they walked, and M’naago wondered why he was being so pleasant to her. Certainly it wasn’t purely because of how close she and Aeliana had become, was it? That would be absurd, ridiculous even. “Aeliana should be done running her cohorts through their drills, and be prepared for her own training. Have you ever born witness to her fighting before?”

                “No, no more than she has seen me hunt.”  M’naago responded honestly, admitting (even if only to herself) that she was curious about what it looked like when a Reaper fought.

                “Hmm. You will see it today.” Was all he said in response before falling silent, a silence that remained unbroken until they reached a large arena-like space, one that had quite a few soldiers (garleans and auxiliaries alike) sitting in stands or standing in groups. To her curiosity, no one saluted him nor acknowledged him as their superior, only greeted him politely. Seeing her bafflement, he grunted softly in amusement. “In this arena, and this arena alone, there is rank neither social nor military. So long as proper decorum is observed and excessive liberties are not taken, we are defined by our victories, not our station of birth or battle. In this, we embody the core of the Empire: that we are all of us the same kin, bound together by the blood-forged links of our ancestors and fallen comrades, and those who strive to reach the stars may do so, should they have the strength to do so.”

His eyes searched the stands for a moment, where they fell on one girl in particular. A small gesture had her abandoning her seat to hasten to his side, and M’naago found herself face to face with Fordola of the Canis Lupia. Perhaps the best-known poster child (literally, as it happened) for collaboration with the Garlean Empire in Ala Mhigo, and one wearing face paint M’naago found almost painfully familiar.

Yda’s face paint.

                “Fordola, this is M’naago Rahz, a guest of Aeliana rem Quirinius. You will sit beside her during today’s bouts and answer any questions that she might have.” He instructed, and red hair bobbed respectfully in acknowledgement and acceptance of those instructions.

                “C’mon, then. Your girl is going to be dueling with Lord Rhitahtyn soon, and that’s always a fine thing to watch.” The traitorous bitch said a bit brusquely, gesturing to the stands, and M’naago was forced to follow as Fordola headed back the way that she had come.

By the time they were sitting down in their seats, Aeliana was already in the center of the arena, dressed in tight fitting black armor with a long, ragged-tailed cloak and a elongated, pointed-tip hat, the long haft of a curved, wicked-looking scythe in her right hand, it’s spiked pommel braced in the ground.

                “This happens often?” M’naago couldn’t help but ask, curious, and Fordola glanced over at her for a long moment before shrugging and nodding.

                “Often enough, aye. M’lord Gaius routinely has the officers spar in front of the rest of us. Says it’s to show us how far we have to go if we want to be able to reach their lofty heights, give us a sight to reach for. Course, then he duels the winner to show the entire legion just how much high one has to climb to become legatus.” She explained, shaking her head at the memory of such past sights. “Anyway, Lord Rhitahtyn and Aeliana spar often. Their techniques and styles are diametrically opposed, see. Most times, it comes down to whose feeling best on a particular day. I’m guessing twill be Aeliana today.”

                “I can see why…” M’naago murmured, eyes widening a little as the massive living wall that was Rhitahtyn sas Arvina entered the field. The man was massive, and she doubted that all of his bulk was due to the heavy armor and miqo’te-sized gunshields he was wearing. Then she blinked, glancing over at the other girl. “Wait, why Aeliana today?”

                “Because you’re here, girl. The whole legion knows that the tribunus has a crush on an Ala Mhigan girl that works at her new favorite tavern. You’ve no idea how heartbroken some of the other Cania Lupia were when word about that got out.” Fordola drawled, giving her an amused look, and M’naago could feel her face heating in embarrassment.

                “What about you, then? Were you as heartbroken as your friends?” she shot back, whether to distract Fordola from her reaction or herself she didn’t know, and Fordola shook her head with a chuckle and a scoff.

                “I’ve not the time for romance, and neither do my friends, not that they’ll admit it. We’ve a future to build for our people, we can’t do that if we’re swooning over girls, or boys for that matter.” Fordola said, touching the paint on her face almost absent-mindedly, and M’naago opened her mouth to ask a very vitriolic question when a loud explosion from the field told her the duel had kicked off.

It was like watching a mountain fight the wind. Rhitahtyn was immensely powerful -the man’s blows literally cratered the ground where they struck, even without the explosives fired from his weapons-, his armor and shields and bulk allowing him to shrug off blows that probably would have had her in bed for days at least. Yet for all that bulk, and the incredible weight that he had to move, he could actually move with explosive speed when he wanted to.

On the other hand, all that power and bulk and explosive speed had gone to waste, because he had failed to land a blow on the far smaller, slender, delicate, and agile form of Aeliana. She seemed like she was everywhere, flitting about like a dragonfly, or perhaps a hornet, ducking and weaving through his blows (occasionally teleporting, judging by the purple-black holes she ripped open in mid-air) as her scythe flick-flick-flickered across his armor.

Then the roegadyn changed his tactics, pointing his weapons skyward and firing off a barrage of miniature missiles that carpeted much of the arena in explosions. Aeliana darted backwards through another portal, but it seemed the move had been predicted by her opponent, as a trio of explosions bracketed her the moment she reappeared some thirty yalms away. M’naago half rose in concern, only to gasp softly as she seemingly exploded with black-and-crimson aether. Even from here, she could see that Aeliana’s eyes had changed to a gleaming, baleful crimson, her cloak was now wrapped around her like a shroud, a hood hid her hair, and long talons that same color as her eyes tipped her fingers.

                “She actually had to Enshroud. She’s never done that against him before.” Fordola murmured, leaning forward and watching the fight with interest as Aeliana began whaling away at Rhitahtyn with her scythe, which was now leaving streaks of crimson aether through the air with every swing. “She’ll be hearing from M’Lord about that.”

The bout went on for several more minutes before being called to a halt by the legatus, who announced that Aeliana was the winner, as one of her later blows would likely have damaged Rhitahtyn’s spine sufficiently to paralyze the man without extensive healing.

As Aeliana rested before her next bout, this time against Nero tol Scaeva, the massive form of the roegadyn (now lacking his gunshields) made his way around the perimeter of the arena, occasionally stopping to speaking with various soldiers and supporters that had been watching the duel, until he was finally standing beside them.

                “May I join you, young ladies?” he asked politely, his voice sounding like a landslide, and the pair of them nodded, Fordola with thinly veiled excitement and M’naago with something more akin to dumbfoundedness. Sitting down carefully with a pair of groans, one from himself and one from his new seat, he reached up and pulled off his massive horned helm, which he turned in his hands to examine before clicking his tongue and putting it aside. “Every time I duel that young lady, my armor ends up looking like one of my children after they ran through a thorn bush. Twill take hours to deal with the marks.”

He looked quite different from every roegadyn M’naago had ever met, more like a very large, very tanned Hyur than anything else, and he quickly took notice of her slight confusion as she stared at him.

                “Ah, of course, you are Ala Mhigan. You have only seen my Hellsguard or Sea Wolf cousins here in Eorzea. I am from the Eastern Lands, across the seas, and more Roegadyn there look like me than they do those you are familiar with.” He said with a warm smile, the corners of his amber eyes crinkling. “I am Rhitahtyn, and you surely must be M’naago Rahz.”

                “Does this entire bloody legion know my name?” the miqo’te groaned involuntarily, only to blush brightly as the praefectus chuckled, a deep and rolling sound that resounded in the air around them.

                “Come now, is it not a truth amongst all people in all lands that gossip, especially about one’s officers, and even more so about romance, travels faster than the light of the sun itself?” he asked rhetorically, shaking his head at her as she damn near pouted in frustration. “Besides which, Aeliana is popular amongst the majority of the legion, and she is considered the most beautiful of the female officers. A potent combination, as I am sure you can understand, so when word got out that she spent hours in the sole company of a local tavern girl, people took interest. When she started doing the same thing nearly every other day of the week for months on end, well…”

                “Scuttlebutt just is.” Fordola agreed, the way she made the statement having all the simple truth of remarking on the color of the sky or saying that water was wet. Apparently feeling a bit bold, she patted M’naago on the shoulder. “Look at it this way: if you’re ever in trouble on the hunt or whatever it is you do, find the nearest Legion patrol. They’ll be happy to save their tribunus’ ‘savage girlfriend’. Most of them, anyway.”

                “Both of you, in a handful of sentences, stressed that it would be most of the Legion. Is there anything I need to be worried about? Or Aeliana, for that matter?” M’naago asked slowly, ignoring the ‘savage’ comment with some difficulty, recognizing both the slightly mocking tone Fordola had used on the word and focusing on something that might prove a far more immediate issue.

                “Young Aeliana is Lord Gaius’ protégé, most would say, and I happen to agree. He was friends with her mother, they served alongside one another long ago, I believe.” Rhitahtyn responded, scratching his chin with one massive, gauntleted finger. “There are some in the legion that believe both of them are too soft, too generous, with those not purely of Garlean blood, such as the three of us, and indeed such as Aeliana herself, whose father was from one of the lands conquered in the Unification Campaigns.”

M'naago didn’t care to think about the implications of that, so she didn’t, instead focusing on the reminder that both of her companions were not Garlean-born.

                “How do you handle that? Why do you put up with it, tolerate it, willingly put yourself in a position where you can hear and experience such things?” she asked, half-accusing and half-asking, and Rhitahtyn gave her a small smile.

                “My young friend, my homeland was little more than a lawless pirate haven before the empire came. Brutal, unforgiving, and yes, all too deserving of the name savage. Three of my sisters were kidnapped and enslaved by flesh-merchants, two of my brothers died as pirates, and I myself was forced to kill for the first time when I was not more than thirteen years of age.” He told her gently, probably understanding where she was coming from, his eyes dark with the shadows of past regrets and pain. “Now my own wife and daughters live in peace, well-protected by the might of the Imperial Legions and well-supplied by the Imperial economy. In six more years, I shall be a citizen in full, and my children with me. My sons and daughters will be able to ascend as high as they can within the means of their merits. Neither birth nor sex nor creed will restrain them, only the limits of their ability.”

M'naago somehow doubted that the Empire was quite as meritocratically pure as the man seemed to believe it was, even if only due to listening to Aeliana complain about certain nobles and officers she had to deal with on occasion (like a certain Imperial cousin at a certain party, just as an example), but she didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell him to his face that the people who had, apparently, ensured his wife and daughters wouldn’t be turned into sex-slaves the way his sisters had were the monsters under the bed for the rest of the planet.

                “As for me, I’ve plenty reason to know what some Garleans can be like. Some auxiliaries from other nations as well. My parents were murdered when I was a child, stoned to death as they protected me from an angry mob while a unit of legionnaires simply stood by and watched, because it was savages attacking savages. The Imperials might look down on me and the rest of the Lupia, and my countrymen may hate us, but Lord Rhitahtyn is proof of the good that can come from peacefully embracing the Empire.” Fordola said, finger tracing the face paint again, before shrugging. “Besides, it’s not as if we did any better ruling ourselves. Not much to be proud of when our last sovereign was enough of a monster to be named The King of Ruin.”

M'naago had to wonder if Fordola actually realized how contradictory some of what she had just said sounded, though she had to admit having your parents murdered by your own countrymen probably wouldn’t encourage you to help those same countrymen fight for their freedom. Even if Fordola’s parents were collaborators, it still hadn’t been right for them to attack her over that decision, and certainly not to murder her parents right before her eyes.

The conversation halted as the current bout ended, somewhat explosively, with Nero tol Scaeva’s newest magiteknical wonder having rather violently suffered a catastrophic malfunction, leaving him on his back and dazed in the middle of the arena with scorch marks all across his armor. Aeliana herself looked much the same, sitting on the ground and occasionally shaking her head with her hands pressed to her temples. Several members of the medical corps hustled in and absconded with the pair of them, leaving the Legatus to call an end to the bouts for the day and order everyone back to their duties.

                “Do you think Aeliana is alright? She wasn’t wearing much in the way of armor.” M’naago asked, an odd anxiety flowing through her, and the two with her exchanged glances, both looking somewhat bemused, though Rhitahtyn seemed to be feeling an edge of approval as well.

                “She’ll be well enough, we have medicae that are more than capable of healing anything but the most grievous wounds. If I had to guess, she will have a very nasty concussion and need to lie down for a time, nothing more. Shall I take you to see her? I’d like to check on Nero.” He responded, and M’naago considered the offer for only a heartbeat before agreeing.

Bidding farewell to Fordola, the pair quickly made their way towards the infirmary, only to halt at the sight of the legatus waiting outside.

                “My Lord!” Rhitahtyn saluted, fist thumping over his heart in a crash of metal-on-metal, and Gaius acknowledged him before sending him in to Nero. M’naago, on the other hand, was kept behind, and she felt herself squirming a little under the weight of his gaze as he scrutinized her.

“I would be remiss in a number of duties, professional and personal alike, if I did not ask your intentions towards my tribunus, M’naago Rahz.” He said finally, tilting his head towards the infirmary doors and the young woman within.

                “I don’t know.” The all-to-honest words fell from her lips without any input from her mind, and she folded her arms under her breasts, almost hugging herself, as her brow furrowed in thought. What were her intentions towards Aeliana now? She was still loyal to the Resistance, there was no one and nothing that could compromise that, but she had started to see all too clearly that the Garleans were not monolithic monsters. Stern, implacable, often merciless, but not monsters, and not nearly so one-dimensional as she had believed. “I know I enjoy her company, I enjoy speaking with her, and it seems I worry about her as well. But I don’t know what she and I want from one another.”

                “I would suggest, then, that you soon take it upon yourself to ensure a conversation about that very subject soon takes place. I will not forbid you from seeing one another, you may keep in mind, if that is what you decide you desire, but if that is your choice I expect you to comport yourself honorably.” His tone was implacable, his gaze unwavering. “If I were to discover that you were toying with Aeliana’s feelings or otherwise had designs that were less than proper upon her, I would be…displeased. I suggest that you keep that, too, in mind.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving M’naago staring at his back and wondering what in Rhalgr’s name her life had come to that she, a Resistance member, was getting a ‘shovel speech’ from The Black Wolf in the infirmary hallway of a Garlean military base.

####################################################################

Fourth Water to First Frost is the Eorzean equivalent of 7pm to midnight.

For those that are unaware, Fordola’s face paint is actually Yda’s (the real Yda’s) because Fordola was one of the people Yda was trying to smuggle out of Ala Mhigo when she was killed. This is from one of the Tales of the Twilight, #3 I believe.

We don’t actually know what type of Roe Rhitahtyn is from or what nation he is from, so I decided to make him an Othardian Roe, like Gosetsu. We also know nothing about his background, beside that he was from ‘a land that was in a constant state of turmoil until the Empire brought order to it’.

This story is only another couple of chapters, and then we will be starting Lost in the Echoes, which is the actual content of FFXIV!

Chapter Text

Dawn Is Just A Heartbeat Away (Hope Is Just A Sunrise Away)

Chapter Six

#############################################################################

Naago of the Marmot Tribe of the Seekers of the Sun Tribe of the Miqo’te race, proud daughter of Ala Mhigo and member of the Ala Mhigan Resistance, had no idea how she had gotten herself into this mess.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. She knew exactly how she had gotten into this mess, and it was because she had started spending more time thinking with her loins and the throbbing heart of a woman in love than with her mind and her patriotism. She had, over the last six moons, discovered that she was genuinely and truly in love with Aeliana rem Quirinus, and so she was rather inclined to go along with things when her lover suggested them.

Unfortunately, this time that had her sitting in the colossal ballroom of the Imperial Palace of Garlemald as her Reaper’s guest, as her date, to a ball hosted by Solus zos Galvus himself. Sitting there wearing a dress finer than anything she had ever seen in her life, with more jewelry than she thought could possibly exist, and such superbly applied makeup that she had hardly recognized herself when she looked in the mirror. She looked like a lady, like a noblewoman, and as strange as it was, she…didn’t find it too objectionable. In fact, she rather liked it, even if it wasn’t her preferred apparel.

Of course, while some of the panoply she was wearing had been gifts that Aeliana had given her over the last year, growing steadily more expensive (and more akin to courtship gifts than anything else, and her heart still throbbed and her cheeks still flushed as she remember the day she had finally realized that was what they were), much of it had come from the two women that had spent much of the night standing with her.

The personal companions, in more than one manner if their words of thanks to Aeliana had been any indication, of Varis yae Galvus were both incredibly beautiful women. A pair of twins, Annia and Julia quo Soranus were apparently friends of Aeliana’s (stemming from an ‘incident’ that Naago was willing to bet involved the last ball that Aeliana had attended, and a certain cousin of the Emperor’s) and had been more than happy to help get their friend’s foreign lover get ready for a Garlean ball, as well as helping keep her company whenever they could when Aeliana was called away for one reason or another. One or both of them had been with her for the past several hours, warding off anyone that might cause conflict over her presence here.

No one had yet been bold enough, drunk enough, or high-ranking enough to try their luck with either (never mind both) of the sisters.

Any other time, Naago would be rather miffed at being ‘handled’ and having what she would, perhaps uncharitably, call babysitters. But not here, and not now. Not in the middle of Garlemald itself, in the heart of the Imperial Palace, surrounded by many of the movers and shakers of the nation that had taken her homeland for their own. Movers and shakers that did little to hide the disdain they felt for her, and their disapproval of her presence here. Not that any of them would dare to speak to loudly against the protégé of The Black Wolf nor confront said protégé’s guest when the ‘savage’ was being escorted by the right and left hands of the man that might as well be the heir to the empire.

She just wished Aeliana didn’t get pulled from her side too often.

                “Calm yourself, M’naago Rahz.” Annia murmured, her smile never faltering in the least as her cold eyes sent the latest glowering nobleman of one kind or another scurrying, as she spotted Naago craning her neck to look for her lover again. “Your love should be back in a few moments. It seems that she got a little sidetracked trying to keep another would-be gold-digging socialite away from Lord Gaius.”

Despite her nerves and her increasing unease at being here in the first place, the miqo’te couldn’t help but smirk at that. It wasn’t the first time tonight that someone had tried to catch the eye of The Black Wolf, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Honestly, the longer she knew and witnessed the legendary legate, the more his monstrous mystique was banished. The man hated social attention, and watching his profound discomfort as he tried to escape or fend off the attention of social climbing or reputation-enthralled women was nothing short of hilarious for her. It was so contrary to the man that she had met, the man that had threatened her for the sake Aeliana’s heart. Yet, at the same time, it humanized him in a way that was…disorienting, despite this being far from the first time she had seen him act in a way beyond her expectations.

“Sister, Lord Varis needs us. It seems that his son was…recently difficult.” Julia said, appearing from seemingly nowhere, and Annia scowled darkly, a sentiment M’naago shared. She didn’t know much at all about Zenos yae Galvus, Legate of the XIIth Legion and Varis’ only surviving child (though Aeliana, she knew, hoped that Annia and Julia would be changing that sooner rather than later), but what she knew told her that he was every inch the monster she had once thought Gaius van Baelsar was…and that the vast majority of Garleans felt the same way.

                “Naago, Aeliana will be here in a few minutes at the most, but Julia and I need to deal with this. The last thing we need is Lord Varis and his son…” Annia said, before cutting herself off and shaking her head sharply and gesturing to her sister, who turned and started back into the crowd. With a last, reassuring (if very strained) smile for her, Annia followed. The pair of them vanished within moments, and Naago swallowed heavily as she realized she was, for the first time tonight, wholly alone in a den of serpents. Serpents that really, really did not appreciate her or her presence in the heart of their power. Taking a steadying breath, she closed her eyes and took a long, slow sip of her wine, hoping against hope that when she opened them again her lover would be back at her side.

                “Finally. I had not thought my father’s little pets would ever leave, I was beginning to fear my efforts were in vain.” A voice drawled, and her eyes flew open to see a towering man, dressed in light armor, standing before her and staring down at her. Staring at her with empty eyes, and Naago realized in that moment that she had found something she hated so much more than being looked at with disgust or hate or pity or contempt, because the sheer apathy in this man’s gaze shook her to the core. He did not care about her, didn’t even seem to see her. He was regarding her with all the emotion, all the investment, that one might use to regard a piece of furniture. In truth, she was quite sure she had seen people have more emotional investment in furniture than this man had in his eyes.

Then his words sank in and she felt her heart stop, even as her breath froze in her lungs.

Zenos yae Galvus, only son and heir to Varis and a man regarded by one and all as a monstrous beast clad in Spoken skin, smirked at the distress on her features, and her soul shuddered again at the faintest hints of light and life in his eyes. His apathy broken only, it seemed, by amusement and enjoyment at her fear and discomfort, a thought that was horrifying…and fortifying. Spite coalesced in her veins, and she steadied her body and emotions alike as she adjusted her dress slightly and made something that could, loosely, be called a bow.

                “Worthy women and fine company, in the service to a man who seems worthy of their loyalty.” She responded with a calm she did not truly feel, taking care to sound as disinterested in his presence as possible, even as she ignored the outright admission on his part that he had specifically created a conflict at the ball and caused issues for his father in order to get her alone, because gods knew she really didn’t want to think about the implications therein. “Was there something you needed, Legatus?”

                “Hmm. Merely to meet and take proper measure of the savage woman that has so enthralled the Black Wolf’s little cub.” Zenos replied, folding his hands beside his back as a flicker of disappointment at her self-mastery heralded the return of his apathy.

                “What interest could one ‘savage’ amongst many have to you, no matter with whom she spends her time?” she ‘asked’, not quite able to keep the bitter bite from her voice in response to that hated epithet, a display of emotion she immediately regretted when she noticed his enjoyment of getting a rise, no matter how small, out of her.

                “You are interestingly only insofar as your connection to Aeliana rem Quirinus, yes. There is nothing remarkable about you at all, no fire in your blood. A quiet little mouse, sitting in the corner behind the bulwark of stronger women.” He ‘agreed’, and she had to bite her tongue to prevent a foolish response from leaping through her lips. “No, it is the woman who holds your leash that interests me. Protégé to one considered a great general and combatant. A reaper, pact-bound to a voidsent like the ancient ‘heroes’ to our people. A competent officer and fighter. These things are all true of her, none giving her any greater value than any other, but it was her fierce display at my grandfather’s last ball, and the results thereon, that drew my interest. What is it about her, I wonder, that so intrigues so many men and women of means and power? What is it that led to my grandfather meeting her alone, gifting her a relic of his youth, a memento of his dearest friend?”

M'naago’s breath caught again, her mind flashing automatically to what she knew, instinctively, had to be the object that he spoke of. The amber-yellow crystalline necklace, marked with the ancient symbol of the sun, that her lover never removed. No matter how passionate their coupling, no matter how fierce the duel, no matter how strenuous the act, she never removed that simple yet beautiful necklace. No other object in her possession was treated with such care, such devotion, and what could inspire such but it being a gifted memento from her Emperor? A gifted memento that, should her interlocutor be telling the truth, belonged to a long-dead friend of the Emperor himself?

“I see you know what I am talking about. So tell me, girl: what is it that a simple huntress, a savage girl with a bow, sees in one of her conquerors? What is it that makes men and women alike fall over themselves in her presence? What is it that makes the Emperor of the Garlean Empire so interested in her? What makes her so unique, so special, so intriguing to the world?” he mused, tilting his head slightly, and she was reminded (unflatteringly) of a falcon regarding a field-mouse as he considered her. “What is it that gives her the strength to act as she sees fit, and why is that those around her allow it to be so?”

M'naago could only stare at him, wondering what to do, what to say, how to react to this being and his questions, his desires.

                “Naago, please forgive my absence, I…Oh.” Aeliana said sheepishly, only for her affection-laden embarrassment to vanish the moment she spotted just who the miqo’te was speaking with. A moment later, she was standing between the pair of them, M’naago half-hidden by her presence. Giving a respectful, if definitively curt bow, she continued. “Your Highness, I had not expected to see you here tonight, never mind speaking with my companion. You bless us with your presence.”

                “Do not attempt to flatter me, Tribunus Militum. I have neither the patience nor the interest in pointless frippery and nonsensical social niceties. Events such as this are a wholly irrelevant waste of time, and one I would not indulge in if not for a greater purpose.” he responded, sounding almost impatient in response to her courtesy, waving a hand in a distinctly sharp movement.

                “And what, exactly, is this greater purpose that brings you here, then?” the Reaper asked suspiciously, eyeing him with thinly-veiled, barely-polite, but recognizably scant favor. Naago couldn’t blame her, sensing the metaphorical (or, perhaps, all too real) sword hanging over their heads that was his intentions.

                “To take your measure, of course. These hollow people around us, their existences shallow and fragmented, lacking in purpose not given to them…they mean nothing. They carry no more interest to me than the beasts of Ala Mhigo I hunted, nor the countless hopefuls amongst it’s inhabitants who sought me out in the field of battle. No more entertaining, no more worthy of recall or remark than ants scurrying beside your boot in the moment before you crush them.” The Emperor’s great-grandson explained, sounding disturbingly casual in his utter dismissal of his entire nation and hundreds of M’naago’s own countrymen. Not that he seemed to notice or care about the way that all within earshot, not just the two women before him, bristled and glowered in response to his words. Even the most fervent Optimates was unlikely to appreciate being described in such a way, after all, no matter whose mouth the words came from. “You, unlike they, are a subject of interest.”

                “While I am flattered by your regard, Highness, I’m afraid I can offer you no companionship. I already have all that I need in the woman at my side.” Aeliana’s tone was clipped, the words not a single sound longer than absolutely required, as she reached back to take M’naago’s hand. The miqo’te took hold, more than willing to offer and receive the comfort and stability inherent in the gesture, in the feeling that came with it.

                “I do not desire your ‘companionship’ in any way. The only value you hold to me, as yet, is the quandary that you pose. What sets you apart from the dim mire around you is nothing more or less than the interest in, and attention upon, you from others. Nothing more and nothing less.” He refuted the carnal implications promptly and without hesitation, although (to M’naago’s accompanying pitted stomach) there was a…strange look on his face as he said the words. “To that end, I…”

                “Are you troubling my guests, boy?” an aged voice silenced the rest of his words, and M’naago’s eyes widened as the crowd that had started to gather around them practically threw themselves aside to bow deeply as an old man made his way towards the three of them, cane tapping on the stone. Wearing armor that was more functional than elaborate, with a gold-stitched crimson cloak, she probably would have recognized him even if she hadn’t seen his portrait many times over the course of her time with Aeliana.

Solus zos Galvus himself, Emperor and Founder of the Garlean Empire, and a man that she had very complicated feelings on. A war-hero, by any unbiased measure, having led soldiers with brilliance, determination, and courage in the service of his nation. Uniting them behind a common cause, building them up and making them a power to be reckoned with.

And that was the other side, because the power that he had shaped Garlemald into had turned itself to bloody conquest, washing over numerous nations and peoples like a tide, including her own beloved home. Had personally led Garlemald in it’s first conquests, marched through thousands of blood-soaked streets and settlements.

                “It seems you are more interesting that I thought, Quirnius, if my great-grandfather so quickly appears to stymie my efforts in so public a way. Perhaps, in time, you will even prove entertaining.” Zenos finally mused, ignoring the emperor’s question entirely and turning to walk past the man, his shoulder brushing against Solus’ arm in what everyone could see was a deliberate display of disrespect.

M’naago barely saw what happened next, but see it she did, and it left her in nothing less than absolute awe.

The Emperor’s cane flicked out like a striking viper, a quartet of strikes landing to the ankles and knees of his erstwhile descendant. As Zenos stumbled, that same cane stood like a diagonal pillar in front of his right ankle and behind his left knee, forming all the fulcrum required to send him sprawling across his back on the floor. An explosive exhalation from the impact was promptly followed by a choked inhale as the tip of the cane planted itself with no small amount of force directly into his sternum, pinning him like a butterfly in a collection.

                “Do not think me so far into my dotage that I cannot still fell you in an instant like the barely-pubescent whelp you are, boy.” The emperor, who had not moved his own feet until forced to turn so that the final, pinning blow was within his range of motion, intoned coldly. “Never forget your place. I built this empire with my sword and skill alone, on the blood and sweat I shed did you have your tutors and armors and weapons. Not even on the day of my death will you surpass me, and never in your life will you possess the right to mock those who fight for their place in my Empire. Now remove yourself from my presence, before I feel the need to instruct you further.”

He pressed down with the cane one more time, making his point all too clearly, before turning and walking away from his descendant with every ounce of disdainful dismissal that Zenos had delivered onto the pair that he was now approaching. As he got closer, M’naago’s enhanced hearing and smell went to work, his scent and sound no longer obscured by the crowd, and she swallowed heavily as she realized that he was neither breathing heavily nor perspiring from the explosive movement he had just performed. The Emperor of Garlemald, it seemed, was no less a warrior than he once was, despite his advanced years.

                “Welcome back, young Quirinus, to my palace. It seems to me as though you cannot set foot in this place without one member or another of my family seeking you out to cause trouble.” The Emperor noted with some amusement, and M’naago had to (despite the circumstances) smother a small smile at the very put-upon look that briefly crossed her lover’s visage. It seemed the old warrior had seen it too, because he briefly smirked. “Still, at least this time you have managed to avoid nearly be challenged to a duel, and you’ve avoided being caught in the middle of a collapsing courtship as well. If only because you seem to be held well in hand. You must be M’naago Rahz.”

Naago blinked silently for a long moment, the addressal so abrupt and so unexpected that she was incapable of speaking, a state of affairs that last until she got a very subtle and very direct nudge from Aeliana. Jolted out of her mental paralysis, she responded.

                “I am M’naago Rahz, yes. I thank you for allowing me to accompany Aeliana to this event.”

The words came with a bow that was both fairly shallow and fairly curt. Something that, combined with the lack of obsequiousness on her part, had a great deal of angry muttering coming from the rest of the crowd. Yet, the Emperor himself only looked faintly amused, and perhaps even approving. That was more than a little strange, but she didn’t have much time to linger on it before the old man waved his hand at the crowd to silence them.

                “You have courage, M’naago Rahz, to stand in this place as a daughter of the provinces and not kow-tow to me. Courage, and honesty. Though perhaps not good sense.” He commented, tapping his cane lightly on the ground in time with the last two words. “Fortunately for you, and for young Quirinus, I appreciate that you are not interested in giving hollow praise to a man for whom you hold less than fond feelings. Is this not so?”

                “…yes.” She admitted quietly, resisting the urge to fold her arms across her chest in a gesture that would have been more defensive and self-comforting than anything else, but would have appeared to all as defiant and insulting. There was a low murmur, a tide of muttering that swept across the room, but it was silenced when the Emperor tapped his cane on the ground again.

                “Hmm. Yes, this is so.” He grunted in something very like amusement, before turning away. “Enjoy the rest the rest of the ball, young ladies, I am sure you will find it a relaxing time.”

M’naago almost snorted at that. Yes, she had no doubt the rest of the ball would be a relaxing one, after the Emperor’s display and his ever-so-polite well-wishes. Well-wishes that most assuredly would be (accurately, she had no doubt) taken as a pointed warning that no one was to cause them any further problems tonight.

                “By the Star, that’s the last thing I needed to have happen.” Her lover groaned quietly from beside her, shaking her head and looking very much like she wanted to rub her forehead, though she managed not to follow through on the desire. “Last time it was an imperial cousin, and that was bad enough. Now the Emperor’s own great-grandson? My Lord is going to have me scrubbing the barracks floors with a toothbrush until the day I retire…”

                “Probably. Perhaps I should commiserate with him about how we can’t take you anywhere these days. I’m sure he would welcome a sympathetic ear.” Naago mused teasingly, grinning broadly at the familiar gasp of outrage, as she allowed herself to begin to relax once more. Clearly her lover had no small amount of favour amongst the movers and shakers of the Empire, and with the knowledge that they would remain unmolested for the rest of the night, she wondered if she could actually enjoy it.

Girls like her didn’t get to go to balls like this all the time, after all.

#######################################################################

Six months after the ball, safely ensconced in a warm bed and deeply (if unhappily, given the lack of her lover’s warm bulk at her back) asleep, M’naago was jolted out of bed by a familiar knock on her door. A particular sequence that she and Aeliana had developed on a lark, a ‘secret code’ between the two of them. As if they were a pair of giggling adolescents, she thought to herself with fond, bleary amusement as she padded to the door and opened it to reveal her lover standing on the far side.

                “I thought you were busy with the Legate the next few days?” she asked with a grin, leaning on the door-frame, her tail flirting back and forth like a flag as she waited for the familiar, appreciative, sensual caress of her conqueror’s eyes on her naked body…only to quickly frown and straight in true alarm at the look on Aeliana’s face. The tear streaks on her cheeks, the hollowness in her eyes.

Her heart clenched, both out of worry and love for her Garlean and the immediate, instinctual fear that someone had died. Her mind raced, even as she silently and gently took her lover’s hand and tugged her inside, shutting the door with a flick of one foot as she guided Aeliana over to the bed.

                “Lia, what’s wrong? Did something happen, is someone hurt? Fordola, Rhitahtyn, the Wolf…?” she asked softly, gently, leaving Nero and Livia unmentioned. While neither were too discourteous to her, not aggressively contemptuous or cruel, both also refused to acknowledge her existence unless circumstances required otherwise. Something she was more than happy with, especially in regards to Livia. That woman was a little too enamored with van Baelsar to be healthy. Being madly in love with someone was one thing, she was familiar with that, but the way that the woman treated literally everyone around her as if they were plotting to seduce her Legate and ‘steal’ him from her…

Well, quite frankly, and as much as she was still baffled by the fact that she actually cared, she thought that Gaius van Baelsar could do better than a woman who was no better at actually seeing him for who and what he was than the countless noblewomen she had seen chasing him at the Empire’s capitol.

                “No, no everyone is fine, I….” she shakes her head rapidly, the movements jerky and not at all the smooth grace that Naago has grown so familiar with. Looking up, she presses an almost desperate kiss to Naago’s lips. “I love you so much, Naago. So very, very much.”

                “I love you too, you know I do, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” She murmured softly, stroking violet-streaked raven locks, her tail wrapping around Aeliana’s waist in a gesture as instinctual as it was comforting.

                “I…I can’t…” Aeliana murmured, shaking her head in what Naago was damn sure was denial of all bloody things, which was frightening in and of itself. Denial was not often a word she would assign to the Garlean’s usual method of behavior towards anything, and certainly not towards things that distressed her. And, having met the Black Wolf and his officers (and, despite her best efforts, coming to know them fairly well), she knew that denial was something her peers and superiors would energetically discourage as well. “Naago…if you had to betray your home, your people, for their own good, would you do it? If they were doing something that was so incredibly wrong, so impossible to justify, that you felt compelled to turn your back on everything and everyone you knew and loved and believed and trusted in order to save it from itself, would you do it?”

M'naago swallowed heavily, realizing that this conversation had just entered a realm that she had been wholly unprepared for, and she had a distinct feeling that she was standing in the middle of a field of live explosives, buried just beneath the sand and waiting for her to take the one wrong step that would set them off.

For a moment, a single and terrified heartbeat, she wondered if Aeliana was going to ask her to betray Ala Mhigo. She wondered if Aeliana had known all along that she was a member of the Resistance, that native had approached invader with ill intentions and ulterior motives. Then she settled and reassured herself, because there was no way that such a thing could be true. Aeliana would not ask that of her, even if Aeliana did know she was more than she seemed to be. Besides, the Resistance would never be in the midst of a plan so terrible that Aeliana would feel the need to confront her and ask for her help stopping it, but that wasn’t the point of the question, and she swallowed again.

                “If they were going to do something truly heinous, something that would be unforgiveable, then yes, I would stop them. It may be my home, they might be my people, but there are somethings that national loyalty and patriotism cannot allow to pass, no matter how deeply held those ideals.” She answered finally, hoping against hope that her own faith in her countrymen wasn’t about to be betrayed. “Even if I couldn’t fight against them directly…Twelve, even if I had to fight against them, I would still do it. If my country betrays itself, then the only thing I can do is protect it, even against it’s own will.”

The woman in her arms absorbed her words for a long, terrible, silent moment, before nodding and taking a deep, shuddering inhalation and pulling away. Scrubbing childishly at her cheeks for an instant, Aeliana’s hard, determined eyes met M’naago’s own worried and fearful ones.

                “Then I need to warn Eorzea by whatever means I can.” She intoned resolutely. “Nael van Darnus of the Seventh Legion intends, with the approval of the Imperial Senate and the Ministry of Warfare, to drop the lesser moon of Dalamud on Eorzea to wipe it out…and I can’t let that happen.”

#########################################################################

Chapter Text

Took me a long time to convince myself to post this, but I did want what readers it had to have it finished.

I am unlikely to work on the sequel, Lost In The Echoes, anytime soon.

Unfortunately, as various things have happened politically in the world over the last year or so, I've recieved increasing issues from people coming across the story who lack basic understanding of the concept of 'Media Literacy'.

I don't need that kind of crap in my life, thank you very much.

So while I will be doing something else in the world of FFXIV, whether my old Worm crossover idea, that long-sitting rewrite for Steel Hero, or something else entirely, I won't likely be doing anything with our Garlean Warrior of Light anytime soon.

It's possible I will, at some point, work on Lost In The Echoes, but that's for the far off future

############################################################################

The Rivenroad.

A group of sky-borne, magically-airborne islands in the Eastern Highlands of Coerthas, near the border to Mor Dhona. Not a particularly popular group, it must be said, too small and lacking in resources to be worthy of any sort of presence from the Eorzean Alliance, unlike the far larger and more lucrative Sea of Clouds.

Perhaps that was what had made it such a lucrative location for Nael van Darnus to emplace the transmitters required to pull Dalamud from the sky. It wasn't as if anyone else was here, after all, and finding one group of floating islands amongst dozens, or even hundreds, was no mean feat.

Unfortunately for the Legate of the VIIth Imperial Legion, Aeliana had rather more information to work with than any Eorzean could possibly hope for. Information that made it a rather simple task to hunt him down with what few members of the Grand Companies of the Alliance that the three Heads of State had been willing to let follow a Garlean on a 'hair-brained search of an obscure hole-in-the-wall without any sort of confirmation for her intelligence'.

Maybe if they had sent her with more people, they wouldn't have all died during the hectic, desperate battle that ensued when less than a dozen grunts and a single elite tried to take on a Legate of the Empire.

Still, the Alliance members had done their part and sold their lives dearly, and as the last of them had slipped off of the gun-halberd the genocidal general wielded, Aeliana had been able to land a telling blow, a fatal blow, that cleaved the Legate's backplate and severed the spine.

It was a testament to how strong, how enduring, that van Darnus was that the blow did not kill him immediately. Indeed, despite the lack of function in his legs, he was still able to drag himself over to some rubble and brace himself against it before removing his helm.

It was then, to her profound shock, that Aeliana had learned he was not a he at all. With her death approaching rapidly, the woman who had called herself Eula van Darnus, surviving twin of the long, long dead, had unburdened herself.

The memory was a powerful one…

                "Why…" Aeliana coughed, spitting out some of the blood that had pooled in her mouth, the crimson saliva splattering heavily on the stone. "Why go this far, why plan to kill so many?! Hundreds of thousands,  millions!  By the Star, your own legion would have been killed! Your soldiers, your subordinates! You would have killed your own people! For what?!"

                "I…I don't know." Eula responded with a hoarse, bitter chuckle, displaying none of the fervor or psychosis that she had over the course of their battle. It was unnerving, how calm and quiet she now was. "All I can remember, all I could care about, was mourning my brother. Hating my father. And wanting, more than anything else, to shatter Dalamud. But now…all I feel is fear."

Her voice was quiet, now, her strength seeping from her with every slow, pulsing flow of blood leaving her veins, but in the strange, unnaturally silent stillness of the world Aeliana could still hear her clearly.

                "Will my brother hate me, for all the things I have done in his name, all the things I have done  using  his name? Will his fiancé, his beloved Bradamante, who ended her own life on his spear when he was lost, the same spear I named for her and wielded to spill the blood of hundreds? What of my father? Will I find, in the moment of my death, that my murder of him, my kinslaying, was unjustified? Will I find that the fault did not lay with him?"

What could Aeliana say to any of that? What words could she offer to bring closure or comfort to the woman she had killed, and had likely killed her, by the feel of her injuries?

Nothing, really, save something that would bring comfort to her own soul.

Singing. Singing a song of her childhood, a song that had been written by the Emperor's own mother, legends said, to bring comfort to the children of Garlemald in the cold, dark winter nights after the exile.

                "Fear not this night, you will not go astray.

                Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way…"

Soft and sweet she sang, the familiar words rising and falling in a cadence as familiar to her as the rhythm of her own heartbeat. She sang as her strength failed, leaving her laying half-curled on her side. She sang as Eula's breaths stilled and faded into silence. She sang as the other woman's body turned to crimson dust, a mist that flowed and swirled and drifted skyward. Drawn inexorably towards the looming, blood-red form of the lesser moon.

She sang to the man she had always thought of as a father, as The Black Wolf tried to speak to her over a linkshell that she had kept out of emotional attachment and sentimentality.

She sang to the memories of her Naago, the woman that had finally showed her what love truly was.

She sang to herself, softly and increasingly short of breath, as the darkness encroached on her vision. As she faded away into what she was sure was death, all she felt was relief and satisfaction for a job well done. She had stopped van Darnus. Eorzea and its people were safe…

############################################

"Pay attention on the present!" the harsh chastisement from the shadowed depths of her mind jerked her back to reality, and Aeliana swore colorfully as she darted to the side in an effort to avoid a trio of gunshots. Heat bloomed at the edge of her perception and she reacted with the smooth instinct of experience, twisting the Aether around herself to form a Hellsgate and teleporting nearly twenty yalms away. The ground shuddered, the air rent by the sound of an explosion, as a fireball detonated in the precise spot she had been standing, gouging the earth and leaving a sizeable hole."You will get the both of us killed if you continue loosing focus! Focus on the enemies before us!"

Aeliana grimaced silently at the words of her Voidsent partner, a pulse of gratitude and apology flowing down the link she shared with the entity for rescuing her from the grips of her memories. Memories of her near-death not thirty-six hours before, a near-death that had proven, ultimately, fruitless. Though she had killed Eula van Darnus and destroyed the Transmitters calling Dalamud from the sky, it had been too late. The gravity of the star had already gripped the lesser moon tightly, and it's fall had already become inevitable. Now, she fought alongside the Eorzean Alliance in a desperate attempt to drive back the VIIth Legion long enough for some manner of solution to be found…if it was even possible to do so.

Having wordlessly acknowledged the quite-reasonable rebuke, Aeliana flourished her scythe and regarded the small unit that had attacked her. Most of them were conscripts, and she felt a moment of grief and guilt for their imminent deaths, before charging forward to attack. Two bestarii rushed to meet her, lances thrusting and swirling in a simple, but no less effective pattern of attacks that could (and had) spelled death to countless men and women who had tried to contend with Garlemald's might.

Unfortunately for the two men, they were contending with someone who was better trained, better equipped, and intimately familiar with those very same techniques. Blocking a diagonal strike towards her head, Aeliana sidestepped a thrust and kicked the weapon's wielder in the chest, sending him reeling back with a hoarse, breathless shout. A flourish of her scythe knocked the first man's lance haft aside, and she spun with the motion, cutting off his left leg. He fell, screaming as he clenched the stump, before being silenced forever as she drove the spiked pommel of her own weapon through his heart. A flick of her eyes, a pulse of aether, and an outstretched hand later sent the second bestarius after his comrade, chest smoking and cratered by the trio of aetheric blasts she cast at him.

"Francois! No! You fucking traitor!" the unit's hoplomachus cried out in anguish as she charged in, sword swinging wildly, grief and hate clouding her mind, what training she had been given gone in an instant of pain. A quick block with her haft and a some deft limbwork had the other woman stumbling past her, off balance, and backhand swing removed her head.

Returning to her ready stance as the corpse collapsed to the ground behind her, scythe low and shoulders back, the defector considered her surviving opponents. A signifier, sagitarius, secutor, and a centurion. Nothing that she couldn't handle, but they would be able to cause her some issues if they worked together properly. Half the reason the Imperial Legions were so deadly was the combined arms approach that they took on the battlefield. Rather than vaguely unified groups of independent experts attacking in the same direction, as so often happened with the Grand Companies, legionnaires worked in concert. Melee infantry advancing under the supporting fire of archers and mages, not to mention the incredible power of the magitek armors under their command.

"I ask you to retreat. What the Empire is trying to do here is wrong, and all of you know it. It is a betrayal of our purpose, our creed and duty to the inhabitants of this star." She implored, deciding to try the diplomatic route, not that she expected it to work in the slightest. She was, after all, quite the traitor as far as they were concerned, and she had just killed several friends of theirs. Neither fact would exactly inspire them to doing as she asked, especially if they thought a coordinated attack could take her out. "Moreover, you have to know that you can't beat me in direct combat. You are valiant, no doubt, and skilled enough to have lived this long on such a chaotic battlefield, but that will not be enough."

"What would a traitor to her people know about our cause, our purpose?" the centurion hissed in outrage as the conscripts shifted uncomfortably, though they maintained their ready stances even as they glanced at one another.

"I have embraced our philosophy, shown loyalty to our homeland, on a level you cannot even imagine." Aeliana hissed back, eyes flashing in cold anger. Quite literally, as it happened, a shimmering pink sheen briefly consuming her irises.

Needles. Darkness. Scalpels and Screams. Unnatural. Evolution. Advancement.

                "Let's see what secrets I can wring from your flesh."

"We are meant to free the people of this star from their primals, from the petty conflicts and worthless prejudices that choke the life from this world. We are meant to guide them to a future free of servitude to false gods, false gods that if left unchecked will be the end of all life." She continued, forcing the memories back into the abyssal depths of her mind where they belonged. "We can't do any of that if we destroy an entire continent. It is madness, and I will not allow it to happen if I can do anything to prevent. Now, I will ask you one more time: surrender or retreat."

They responded by attacking together, as she had expected them too. The centurion was never going to accept her words, and the conscripts wouldn't have dared heed her with their officer still alive and the rest of their legion around them for hundreds of yalms. Two minutes of whirling metal and the sickening sound of flesh and bone being rent later, Aeliana stood alone surrounded by corpses and the bitter iron scent of the blood that soaked the earth. More Garlean blood to soak her soul, more men and women she would have once called comrades dead at her hands in pursuit of her idealistic, and likely futile, treason.

Shaking her head, she cast her gaze about for the next group of Eorzeans that might need her help. They seemed to be faring…tolerably, thanks to the edge that their magic and their chocobo cavalry provided them, but she very much doubted things would be going quite so smoothly if the VIIth Legion was at full strength and had airships supporting it.

Aeliana's eyes narrowed as she spotted a group of Gridanian archers pinned down by heavy magitek fire, their infantry support either dead or desperately trying to fend off a pair of enemy platoons. With a thought, she channeled aether into her legs and leapt, soaring through the air in a graceful arc. She landed amidst the beleaguered Eorzeans, her scythe -trailing aether life starlight in it's wake- swiping through the air to form a ragged barrier.

"Make ready!" she called to the startled archers, grimacing slightly at the minor pulse of sensation that washed over her as the barrier buckled under the sub-cannon barrage that hammered into it a heartbeat later. "I'll draw the armor's fire and deal with the pilot! Support your infantry!"

Without waiting for a response, Aeliana charged towards the magitek armor, her form blurring with preternatural speed. The pilot, caught off guard by her sudden appearance, swiveled the main body of the weapon in her direction. A deafening boom echoed across the battlefield as the weapon discharged, but Aeliana was no longer there, having vanished in another swirl of aether to reappear crouched atop the cannon's cowling. The pilot had half a heartbeat to realize that she was there before most of his upper half went tumbling away to splatter on the ground at the unit's feet. Deftly shoving what was left of him after it, Aeliana slipped into the blood-stained cockpit and retargeted the machine's weapons onto the next nearest unit. Blindsided and attacked from its more weakly-armored flank, the other armor promptly exploded in a dazzling, roaring inferno of cereuleum that -between the flames and the shrapnel- likely killed another two dozen legionnaires.

"Good work! Let's put it to use!" an Immortal Flame, one bearing the rank of Captain she thought, shouted, jogging up to her and pointing at a cluster of Garlean field artillery pieces that were busy hammering the far-less numerous, but admittedly far heavier, Lominsan guns. "That seems as good a place as any to start."

Aeliana eyed it for a long moment, eyes flicking back and forth as she examined the cluster's defenders. Three magitek armors, perhaps a hundred troops, and of course the artillery themselves.

"We can do it, but I don't know that we can do it alone. Three to one isn't the best odds for an armor, and I'm not exactly a world-renowned pilot. Not to mention all those troops, and if they turn those guns on us before we can close in, we're fucked." she returned bluntly, getting a grunt and a frown before he lifted his hand to his linkpearl and started muttering quickly. After a few moments, he grunted again and looked up at her.

"Another unit will attack from the far side. Our priority is to destroy those guns, regardless of cost." he informed her, voice tight, and Aeliana could only nod in understanding at the semi-spoken words. It didn't matter if any of them made it out alive, as long as those guns were permanently silenced. The arithmetic of war, especially when facing a force far superior in numbers and armament.

"Understood. I'll draw their fire and create as much chaos as I can. Have your men focus on taking out those guns." she said aloud, tightening her hands on the armor's controls and checking the read-outs. The unit was down to half fuel and armament, which would either be enough for this or it wouldn't, and there was no point at all about worrying over things. Shaking her head, she shot another glance at the captain and gave him a decisive nod before urging her captured mount forward. It lurched into motion, moving slowly at first but accelerating steadily, and within a half-minute it was thundering along, it's massive stride devouring the distance separating her and the target with almost frightening speed.

The enemy spotted her approach quickly, and though it took them longer to realize that she wasn't an ally of theirs, realizing that the Alliance troops in her wake weren't pursuing her, but following her. Shouts of alarm rang out, and the three defending magitek armors began to turn to face her, their proximity horns whooping warningly. Aeliana gritted her teeth and opened fire with her armor's main cannon, the thunderous boom drowning out all other sound as the massive shell streaked towards its target. It didn't hit, unsurprisingly given that she was not only moving but was doing so at high speed, but more than a few charred infantrymen went soaring through the air none-the-less. The three opposing armor's took aim, their 'mouths' dropping open and their gun-barrels beginning to glow, but before they could fire, tendrils of lightning came arcing in from their far side and went crawling across two of the armors.

"Yes!" Aeliana shouted, grinning wildly in relief as the two struck units -and a full half of the infantry- turned away to react to the sudden approaching threat to their rear, as the other Alliance unit suddenly appeared out of the scrum to launch their own assault. Startled by the sudden flanking maneuver, the third armor -the only one still engaging her- missed it's shot, and she slammed the brakes on. Her mount swayed dangerously, not built or balanced for such sudden deceleration, but kept it's feet, and she took careful aim even as her enemy did the same, both of their units hurriedly charging their heavy gun.

Her's finished first, the blast taking the enemy unit directly to the barrel, and the resulting explosion took out three of the twelve artillery pieces.

"That's the way! Come on, lads! At them! Cold steel! For Ul'dah! For Eorzea!" the Flames captain roared from beside her, having finally caught up, hefting his greatsword skyward and charging into the reorganizing legionnaires.

All turned to chaos after that, Aeliana wielding the armor to the fullest that she could to support her new allies against her old, blood and fire and death in every direction as the world faded into a blur of timeless violence.

The battle raged on, a maelstrom of steel and magic swirling around Aeliana as she fought to destroy the Garlean artillery. Her stolen magitek armor groaned and shuddered under the strain, systems failing one by one as enemy fire pounded its weakening frame. She gritted her teeth, forcing the machine forward even as warning klaxons blared in the cockpit.

"Just a little more," she muttered, lining up a shot on one of the remaining guns. The main cannon boomed, and another artillery piece erupted in flames.

Suddenly, a massive impact rocked her armor, nearly throwing her from the cockpit. Alarms screamed as multiple systems went critical. Cursing, Aeliana realized she had no choice but to abandon the dying machine. She grabbed her scythe and leapt clear just as the armor exploded behind her, the shockwave picking her up and carrying her, turning her landing into an ungainly tumble that had her snarling in pain. Kneeling amongst the dirt and blood and bodies, she poured aether into her injuries as she searched for her attack, and her breath caught in her throat.

Tall and broad enough to match even Rhitahtyn, clad in fine armor and wielding a pair of elegant longswords. Longswords of an exquisite, and distinctly non-Garlean, design. Surrounded by corpses. Uncaring of the battle around them. Body language that spoke of nothing less than glee and a hunger for violence.

"Zenos!" she snarled, more to herself than anyone else given the sheer, deafening cacophony of war made it impossible for her voice to carry more than a few feet unless she screamed and shouted. Neither of which she was in any condition to do. Yet despite that noise, despite that distance between them, she could see the moment Zenos realized that she recognized him…and she could see just how much he enjoyed that fact.

"Twelve forfend, what was that? Who is that?!" the Flames captain breathed as he and his surviving subordinates crowded around her, their sole surviving healer -a girl that looked barely enough to drink, never mind fight in a war- kneeling beside Aeliana to examine her wounds. "He destroyed your magitek armor like it was nothing, from range!"

"Zenos yae Galvus. Varis yae Galvus' son." she ground out, shaking her head slightly in both emotional upheaval and an attempt to clear the ringing from her ears. "The Emperor's great-grandson, and an utter monster. You need to fall back. He's here for me, and none of you are a match for him."

"You? What? Why?" the man squawked, eyes widening as it began to sank in just who the man across the field from them was. "What the fuck does he want with you?"

"He and I have a history." she 'explained' shortly, gently pushing the healer away and shakily rising to her feet. "You should run, get your people out of here. He won't hesitate to slaughter all of you to get to me. Regroup with your…no!"

The denial flew from her throat as she saw the surviving members of their allied unit, the tattered remnants of the force that had assaulted the artillery position with them, emerge from the smog of war to throw themselves at the prince of the Empire. It was brave, it was heroic, it was beautiful…and it was futile. None of them had a chance of beating an Imperial elite, and certainly not a man like Zenos, a threat equal to -or, perhaps, greater than- any Imperial Legatus.

Aeliana watched in horror as Zenos cut through the allied soldiers like a scythe through wheat. His movements were fluid, graceful, and utterly lethal. Swords, axes, and spears shattered against his armor as he danced through their ranks, his own blades flashing in deadly arcs. Men and women fell in droves, their screams cut short as Zenos effortlessly carved them apart.

"No..." Aeliana whispered, gripping her scythe tightly. She knew she had to act, had to try to stop this slaughter, even if it meant facing Zenos herself. Something she had spent a great deal of time, and effort, to do since that night in the Imperial Palace.

"Stay back!" she shouted to the remaining Flames as she surged forward, channeling aether into her legs to propel herself across the battlefield, pushing aside the pain and burying it beneath determination and hate.

Zenos turned to face her, his masked visage betraying no emotion. But she could sense his excitement, his eagerness for the coming clash. He was dripping with bloodlust, as much as his sword was dripping with actual blood.

"Finally. I have spent the whole of this battle search you out, Quirinus. I knew you would be here, and how could you not? A hero such as yourself could not resist stepping onto the battlefield to safeguard the innocent and the helpless from oblivion." he drawled, sounding as pleased as his near-constant monotone could sound, spreading his arms wide to gesture to the horrors around them. "Is it not beautiful? Thousands, tens of thousands, desperately scrabbling amongst dirt and blood and fire for their very lives! Animals, one and all, raging against their fates! Living, truly living, in the moments before their deaths! Beasts, meagre as they are, embrace violence for the most base purposes. To eat, to breed, to live. Only we, men one and all, have the strength to live life as it is meant to be lived: by fighting for the sake of fighting itself!"

"You're a monster, Zenos!" Aeliana snarled in response, void-tainted aether blooming around her as she settled into her stance. "I may not serve our homeland any longer, but if there is one last service I can perform for our people, it's making sure that you don't leave this battlefield alive!"

"Haha! Such righteousness! Such fury! This, not the doll doting on The Wolf and the old man, this is what I wanted to face! This is the face I wanted to draw from you. The beast that hungers for blood so deeply as me." he chortled, lowering his arms abruptly to meet her eyes through the lenses of his helm as his tone abruptly turned level. "That's why I ensured you found out about Darnus' project."

"What…?" Aeliana had enough time to hear the words, eyes widening in shock and confusion, and he exploded into motion. With inhuman speed, he closed the distance between them, his massive form seeming to blur as he moved, and by some instinct she lifted the shaft of her scythe diagonally across her torso. It was the only thing that saved her life, stopping his slashing blow from bisecting her at the waist. The impact was still a jarring one, shaking her down to her bones and driving her back several feet with aching arms.

"Oh yes. I knew that you wouldn't be able to tolerate something like this, hero that you are. You would be forced to treason, removing yourself from the protection of your masters, devoid of safety. Huntable. It wasn't hard to make sure you heard what you needed to." he continued, darting forward again to land another punishing strike that was likewise barely deflected.

Aeliana's mind reeled at Zenos' revelation, but she forced herself to focus on the immediate threat for a moment. She pivoted, using the momentum from his blow to spin and bring her scythe around in a vicious arc. Zenos easily sidestepped the attack, his sword flashing out to nick her arm.

"You manipulated me?" Aeliana snarled, ignoring the sting of the wound to focus on what was, to her, a far more important matter. "All of this death and destruction, just to lure me out? Just to get me to fight you?"

Zenos laughed, the sound chilling in its lack of emotion. "Oh come now, don't be so self-important. This glorious carnage would have happened regardless. I merely ensured you would be here to partake in it with me, in the fashion I desired of you."

Aeliana's eyes narrowed, rage boiling in her veins. With a roar, she charged at Zenos, her scythe a whirlwind of steel. The prince met her assault with calm precision, parrying and countering her frenzied attacks. Their weapons clashed again and again, sending sparks flying with each impact.

"Yes, that's it!" Zenos crowed, his voice thick with excitement. "Show me your fury, your passion! This is what I've been waiting for! A forbidden fruit, ripe with rage!"

But even as Aeliana fought with all her might, she could feel herself tiring. Zenos was inhumanly strong, each blow threatening to shatter her guard. She knew she couldn't keep this up forever, especially after hours of fighting and more than a few injuries, not against a rested and uninjured enemy of his ability. If something did n't change, soon and significantly, she would be overwhelmed and killed in short order.

The thought had barely left her mind when a flicker of her danger sense had her flinching slightly, just in time for a quartet of well-aimed arrows to flit past her from behind. Two of them glanced off of his armor, the third missed wide, and the fourth was cut out of the air long before it could strike him, but it forced him to back off a handful of steps as both combatants looked for the source of the interruption. It was the survivors of the unit she had fought with, the unit she had told to flee. The unit that was trying to save her life.

"Attack! For the Alliance!" the Flames captain roared as he lead the charge, lowering his left shoulder and letting the tower shield strapped to it lead the way like a battering ram. His subordinates followed him, full of courage and determination, faces set with grim acceptance of death and the desire to make their deaths have meaning. To lay down their lives in pursuit of a worthy cause. It was incredible, but it was also pointless. They stood no greater a chance than their allies had earlier, and they knew it. Knew it, but were doing their duty nonetheless.
She could do no different, and so she charged as well, heart full of grief and gratitude alike.

Zenos met their assault with what could only be called disdain, his sword sweeping in wide arcs. The first two Flames fell instantly, cleaved nearly in half by the prince's inhuman strength. But their sacrifice bought precious seconds for the others to close in.

The captain slammed into Zenos with his shield, the impact actually staggering the armored giant for a moment. Aeliana seized the opening, her scythe whistling through the air towards Zenos' neck. But he recovered with swift grace, ducking under her strike and lashing out with a vicious kick that sent her stumbling away. Time that the man-skinned-monster used to kill another another Eorzean, but she was on him again swiftly, preventing a follow-up.

They raged back and forth on the blood-soaked ground, injuring and being injured, killing and being killed. Victory and defeat in increments, life and death in fractions of moments, reality a blur, until they were drawn from the trance of battle by a colossal cracking sound. Every weapons paused, every blow and block faltered as every eye turned to the great looming crimson orb above them. An orb, they could now see, that was fissured and rent through, crystal-blue line pouring from within. Then the world quaked, as a great black blade dropped from Dalamud to strike the earth like the blade of a wrathful god, sending the whole of Cartenau to it's knees, and all could do nothing but watch in horror, in dread and confusion and helpless, instinctive rejection of reality, as the top of Dalamud burst like an eggshell. And from that eggshell sprouted two vast draconic wings.

With a roar that could be heard the width and breadth of the continent, the entity she would later learn was the Elder Primal Bahamut, Dreadwyrm and Wyrm of Dawning, announced his awakening. And in that awakening, Dalamud was shattered, a shattering that turned all to fire and ash, sending all of Carteneau -those that still lived, at any rate- to flight. Weapons were abandoned, flags forsaken, and any notions of nationality or loyalty were thrown to the winds as the soldiers of the Eorzean Alliance and the Garlean Empire were united in one searing moment in their desperate attempt to do but a single thing: live.

Yet even as their comrades, their countrymen-by-birth and countrymen-by-choice alike fled in any and every direction, Zenos and Aeliana only stood and watched the dragon vent his rage upon Eorzea. Watched as bolts of fiery magic rained down across the landscape, explosions blooming and blossoming like deadly flowers, the world trembling in their wake. Watched, and realized that another Calamity was upon them.

And in that moment, both felt. One, despair. The other, excitement. One, resolve. The other, hunger. One was consumed by a serenity never before felt. The other, for the first time in his life, felt truly alive. Together, they stepped forward.

###############################################

What felt like days later, but could only have been tens of minutes at most, what was left of Aeliana rem Quirinus lay in a crater, as shattered as the earth around her. Her limbs mangled, her organs ruptured, her scythe in pieces and every ounce of aether she could channel -far more than she had ever consumed and wielded before, likely in the whole of her life combined- spent. All of it fruitless, all of it accomplishing nothing more than causing the titanic beast to have to spend some fraction of it's attention to dealing with what amounted to a particularly persistent gnat buzzing around it.

"Haa…haaa…to think such a mighty beast was hidden within Dalamud for all this time." Zenos rasped from where he lay a few feet away, his condition worse than her own, though his swords at least remained unbroken. "Glorious…such magnificent devastation. That I should bear witness to such a thing…"

"Oh, by the Star, shut up already. I do not want the last thing I hear to be your insane rambling." Aeliana growled, not remotely interested in hearing a dying man wax eloquent about the beauties inherent to death and destruction on such a massive scale.

Zenos chuckled weakly, a wet, gurgling sound. "Still defiant to the end. How... disappointing. I had hoped our final moments would be more... profound."

Aeliana turned her head with great effort, fixing Zenos with a glare. "There's nothing profound about senseless destruction. You're just a madman who never learned the value of life."

"And you... never learned to truly live." Zenos retorted, his voice growing fainter. "To embrace the thrill of battle, the ecstasy of violence..."

"I've lived more fully than you ever will," Aeliana spat. "I've known love, friendship, purpose. You've known nothing but your own twisted desires."

Silence fell between them, broken only by the distant sounds of destruction and their own labored breathing. Aeliana felt her consciousness slipping, darkness creeping in on her as she looked up at the fire falling from the sky, and she whimpered as a great lance of pain throbbed through her head. It pulsed through her body, thrumming and burning in time with her heartbeat, and she felt tears gather in her eyes. Was it too much to hope, that she could at least die in peace, feeling little and just…slipping away into…

Hear.

Her breath caught in her chest for a reason that had nothing to do with her injuries as a woman's voice filled her mind, the word a whisper that was somehow echoing, deafening, all-encompassing. It filled her, resonated in her heart, and for a moment the world around her changed. No longer was she lying on the bloody fields of Cartenaeu, but on the streets of a city, a vast city with towering buildings that burned and crumbled as fire rained from a cloudy, smoky sky.

Feel.

The gem of her necklace burned with a searing heat, hot enough to draw her attention as it blazed like an ember in the heart of a fire, the symbol at it's center shining bright like the sun, and she felt energy, vitality, pouring into her body from…somewhere. She felt, inexplicably, more whole than she had ever felt, which was strange, given that she had never felt broken. How can you feel more complete without first having realized that you were missing something in the first place?

Think.

She rose to her feet, something that mere moments ago would have been impossible, as if she were in a trance. Spotting Zenos' swords, she reached out to them with every intent of taking them up to continue the fight, and with a thought that never came to mind, they leapt into her hands and sang. A clear, high note, a crystalline song the filled the air and filled her heart, and as she looked up at the monster that wanted to ruin everything and everyone she had ever known and loved, and everything and everyone beyond that, she felt nothing but determination.

I am entrusting this, the mark of my most beloved friend, to you. Perhaps, with you, some fractured portion of her shall wander the world once more, banishing its evils and bringing Light to it's people.

She wrapped a hand around her crystal, a hero's crystal, and remembered the charge that she had been given. A vow she had made, a sacred oath. That she would, in all things, honor the name and the deeds of the woman who had once worn it. To live up to her name, to live up to her legend. To carry on her ideals, no matter what the cost might be.

Aether bloomed, white-blue light filling the sky, twisted nails surrounding the beast, which roared and thrashed in it's rage, and Aeliana took to the sky with shadow-formed wings, swords held high as she rose to fight once more. And so the battle raged once more, and so the sealing failed, and so she once more was cast down to the earth. And as she raged against her failure, raged against the loss and the futility of her fight, the world seemed to slow around her.

Herein I commit the chronicle of the Traveler. Shepherd to the stars in the dark. Though the world be sundered and our souls sent adrift, where you walk, my dearest friend, fate shall surely follow. For yours is the Fourteenth seat - the seat of  Azem .

And so the world faded. Not into darkness, but into Light.