Archive of Our Own ^beta

For the third time this week, she finds herself on the manor grounds.

The fires have died, the ash and smoke subsided. The villagers have returned to their homes, beginning the long process of mourning what has been lost and restoring what they can. It’s hard work, but they take to it with a fierce determination she can’t help but admire—even the greatest loss will not break their spirits. This isn’t the first time their land has been devastated by sin eaters, but the Lightwarden’s presence wreaked a level of chaos no one could have prepared for.

The manor is the one place that remains untouched.

It stands at the end of the long, twisting boulevard, a husk of its former self. Windows blasted out, shutters shredded and hanging by a thread, its insides blackened and hollowed out by flame and Light. Gutted and abandoned, like so many other homes dotted around Lakeland. According to the villagers, the family who lived here are either dead or transformed, so no one has come back for it. There is nothing of value to loot—not that the villagers would loot one of their own—and no one to pick up the empty pieces.

It reminds her of a haunted villa—not far from the likes of Haukke Manor, albeit without the voidsent. During her first visit, she crossed the threshold out of curiosity, only to dive across the creaking floor as a beam came crashing down and smashed through to the basement below. She quickly made her escape and swore never to set foot inside again.

The roof, however, is another question altogether.

There’s something about high places. Anywhere she can climb, rest, dangle her feet in the air. Anywhere she can see the land unfurl before her, stretching out to the horizon, as far as her eyes can see. A land that has seen and will see far more than she ever will in her lifetime, a land that deserves to be protected. She feels so small in these moments, a reminder that she is but one small piece in this puzzle.

But even the smallest of pieces matter, for without them they are not whole.

Alisaie sighs and raises a hand, shielding her eyes from the setting sun as she gazes out across Holminster Switch. Her hair falls loosely about her shoulders, pulled free from her customary tail after the climb. The shingles beneath her are still hot to the touch from a day in the sun, but she pays them no heed. A breeze has wafted in off the lake, gently rushing across Lakeland as night approaches and the land cools off. It scatters swirls of purple flowers and violet leaves across the grounds—one moment they’re there, and the next they’re gone.

Tesleen would have loved them.

Her lower lip trembles and she bites down hard, sucking in a breath as the sorrow passes. Tesleen never knew how close they were to a solution. If she had just hung on a little long, if things had gone some other way… perhaps she would have been here, sitting with her on top of this ricket dilapidated roof that is most certainly not a safety hazard, and enjoyed the sunset. You can see more of Lakeland from this hill on Holminster Switch than one would expect. Of course it doesn’t trump the view from the Crystarium’s walls, but…

Not everyone enjoys being within the constraints of a city.

She plants her hands behind her and leans back, rapping her fingers idly against the shingles. Tap, tap, tap. The fires burnt away much of the underbrush, and she has a clear view down the boulevard to the town square where Tesleen died. Not Tesleen, really. The sin eater she became.

The real Tesleen died outside the Inn at Journey’s Head.

She has seen death so many times. Too often. Too much. She should be accustomed to it by now, losing friends and loved ones. Strangers. That’s what she and Tesleen were, weren’t they? Strangers. They did not know each other long, they were… friends? Colleagues? Something else she cannot put into words. So, why does the grief stay? Why does it dig into her like the claws of some beast, refusing to be shaken free? Why, when she thinks it is finally gone, does it resurface with a vengeance, squeezing her heart until she is cold and breathless and paralyzed, like freezing in battle?  

Why does this feel so different?

“Alisaie.”

Alisaie jolts up, heart in her throat, and instinctively reaches for her rapier. Behind her, Aureia swings herself over the far side of the roof and begins a careful descent down. Exhaling a breath, she relaxes and slowly releases the hilt, awkwardly wrapping her arms around herself. Hopefully Aureia didn’t notice she almost drew her weapon on her. “I thought the Exarch needed you,” she murmurs.

Aureia shrugs and drops down beside her. Instead of dangling her feet over the roof, she tucks them beneath her and sits up straight, the picture of poise and grace. There’s a fluidity to her movements, honed from a keen eye, a sharp intuition, and a lifetime of battle. Despite knowing everything she’s gone through—the horrors she has faced, the injustices she has both enacted and had enacted upon her, all the ordeals, big and small, that have been piled one atop another to make her her—she still feels a spike of envy watching how effortless she is.  

Some day, she strives to be as fierce a fighter as her.

Some day.

That day has never felt longer off.

“Maybe,” Aureia replies finally, shrugging. “But the Exarch isn’t allowed to need me all the time.”  

Alisaie catches her eye. “You should listen to him,” she advises.

“I do. And maybe one day he will learn to return the favour on occasion. For all his years and wisdom, I swear that man has a talent for making an absolute ass of himself sometimes.”  

Her lips twitch. The tone is familiar—the mark of frustration and annoyance mixed with begrudging respect.

“Your brother’s worried about you, you know,” Aureia continues.

Alisaie rolls her eye. “Alphinaud is always worried about me. It’s his default state of being.”

“He cares.”

“I know, I just…” She blows out a breath. Raising her head, she turns and across the wrecked grounds and ruined boulevard to the violet woods and the endless sea of purple fields to the Crystal Tower rising high above it all. It glints in the fading sunlight, its delicate blue haze washed out by the vibrant pinks and oranges and golds. “Some days I need him to care a little less. Or… stick his nose in someone else’s business for once.”

She bites her tongue, regretting the words as soon as they leave her mouth. It’s petulant, she knows. Childish to complain, especially to someone like Aureia who has not been as fortunate with family as her. Her brother loves her unconditionally. Aureia cannot say the same.

But Alphinaud has a unique ability to be suffocating with his intentions. Too much all at once—his desperate desire to fix what’s wrong overshadowing the actual hurt on his good days, and making it all about him on the bad. Maybe he’s learned a thing or two in Eulmore, but she will always be a blind spot where he’s concerned. A reason to return to his former habits, either because it’s easy or because it’s all he knows.

“He doesn’t understand,” Alisaie says finally, whispering the words to the wind. Wind that carries flower petals and leaves, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling down the boulevard to the square. That damn square that sends a chill down her spine every time she thinks about what happened there. “He doesn’t understand why I can’t… why I don’t want to…”

The sob escapes her and she presses a hand to her mouth, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Gods, why does Aureia have to see her like this? No one should see her like this. Especially not the Warrior of Light.

Aureia does not say a word. She sits in silence, hands folded in her lap, ruby eyes observing her with a gentle patience.

“I don’t know,” Alisaie murmurs, lowering her hand. “I think… I want…”  

Tears pang in the corners of her eyes, the sting somehow both familiar and unfamiliar all at once. She hasn’t cried like this since her grandfather died. Does that make her heartless? It’s not that she hasn’t suffered loss since Dalamud fell and his sacrifice took him from them all. She has lost others, watched as they passed on while she was unable to do anything about it. You can’t save everyone, she knows this to be true. She accepted it a long time ago.

But she didn’t cry for them the way she cries for Tesleen.

She closes her eyes, tears falling freely now. “I just want to see her again.”

Her shoulders shudder, her lungs gasp, and at last the sob she’s been holding back since they fought in that damn square wrenches through her. She clutches the collar of her coat, fingers pressed deep into soft lining as she yanks it up to cover her mouth, hiding her trembling lower lip. Her vision blurs and she squeezes her eyes shut, tasting salt on her tongue. There’s an overwhelming ache in her heart, the pain twisted tight, and no matter how much she tries to let it go, it never quite subsides.

The weight of Aureia’s arm rests comfortably around her shoulders and she falls sideways, curling into her. She says nothing, the quiet compassion of her silence speaking more volumes than Alphinaud’s well-intentioned chatter ever could. She simply holds her as she cries. Not like her mother would, nor an older, wiser sister—but a friend.

Maybe that’s what she’s needed all along. Friends, not family. Someone who will not judge her for feeling what she’s feeling, nor someone who will try to fix it. Someone who will simply let her… feel.

At last, the sobs cease. She leans against Aureia’s shoulder and stares out at the blazing sky as the sun finally slips below the horizon. Her heart aches, the pain twisted tight. No matter how many times she rubs a palm over her sternum it never untwists itself. “It’ll be night soon,” she murmurs, her throat raw from crying. She sniffs and quickly rubs her nose with the back of her sleeve. “Fancy that.”

“It will,” Aureia replies, following her gaze. “It’s my favourite time of day, you know. Right when the sun goes down. I don’t know why. Something about the approaching dark is calming, I think.”

Alisaie laughs quietly. “Sounds like you. Must have been quite the adjustment your first day here. Did you miss it?”

“Oh, I thought about turning around and walking straight back to Mor Dhona. But…” She pauses, the moment of levity dissipating. “The Source is not a safe place for me right now, and I came here to find you. I couldn’t refuse the Exarch. I couldn’t abandon you all, no matter how strange the sky was.”

There’s an unspoken name behind the you, one filled with so much weight the mere mention of it might just knock Aureia clear off the roof and send her tumbling to the ground. She has said his name once when she asked after him shortly after their reunion in Amh Araeng. Never again.

It’s a wound Alisaie dares not poke at. How does one come to terms with the fact that someone you care for has moved on? That they are not the same person they were when you last saw them? Five years for him, only a matter of weeks for her… It’s almost as if she is already preparing to let him go.

She blinks, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I wish she could have seen this,” Alisaie says. Her throat tightens, choking the words. Gods, why are they so hard to say? “The sunset. The night. The stars. She deserved to have seen this. The very thing she only knew of from stories from older generations. She deserved to know there was hope in the end.”  

“Alisaie…” Aureia shifts her weight, pulling herself close. She hunches down and leans against her, their heads resting against one another as they watch the dark set in. “I think she knew. Someone like her doesn’t end up in the Inn at Journey’s Head without it.”

“Maybe so. But for her it was all a dream, wasn’t it? Some far away if that might never come true. If we are saved, if everlasting Light fades, if the lightwardens are defeated. But this… what you did when we killed that lightwarden… It took an if and turned it into a when. She was so close to seeing it. And now she never will.”

Her lower lip is trembling again. She bites down hard, fighting to keep this next round of tears contained. There’s a place—a private place—in the back of her mind where she can see the alternative so clearly. A place where Tesleen’s smile is as bright as the noonday sun above the sands, where her hand fits easily into her own as if it belonged there. Where they sit together atop some high place with a good view, knees knocking together and arms looped around each other as they watch the world stretch out beneath a tapestry of stars. Maybe she would have kissed her then, like she should have earlier if she hadn’t been so damn slow to pluck up the courage.

But she didn’t then and now she never will.

“Don’t tell Alphinaud,” Alisaie whispers, just as the final rays of sun slip below the horizon. “Or the others. Promise me that. But I think… I don’t know. I think… Aureia…” Her voice is small. “How do you know when you love someone?”

She cringes the moment the words leave her lips, but she does not regret saying them. It’s better to get them out now than never at all, lest she drive herself mad thinking about it. She can’t imagine asking such a question of Alphinaud; it’s not like he would have the answers anyway. It’s not even a question she would dare ask her mother if she was on the Source. The thought of raising such a question with either of her parents is mortifying.

Aureia pauses, falling silent for some time. “I… don’t know, Alisaie,” she says at last. “I don’t think anyone does. It’s all uncertain until one day you simply… think you know what your heart says, or at least what your mind says your heart says—” She cuts herself off, chuckling quietly to herself. “I’m sorry. That was a terribly convoluted answer, and not a helpful one at that.”

Alisaie threads her fingers together, folding them over and over again in her lap.

“There was a girl once,” Aureia continues softly, her voice lost to wind and memory. “A long time ago, in my unit in Garlemald. She was Auri, from Werlyt if I remember right. I don’t know when I fell in love with her, but I did… or convinced myself that I had. And I hardly said a word, telling myself over and over again that I had no interest in such things. How could I, when so much was at stake? We thought we had the future of our nation on our shoulders.”

An uncomfortable knot twists in the pit of Alisaie’s stomach, but she forces it down. Aureia has spoken very little of her youth in the Imperial military, and for good reason. She hid it—from her friends, from her allies, from everyone. It was only recently that she finally offered up the truth. Alisaie can still feel the fury she felt when the lie was discovered, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. Not that Aureia had betrayed anyone—not really. She had simply locked away a piece of her past.

Alisaie trusted her, and at the time she could not help but feel that that trust was broken. But she’s had a year to reflect on it, and now the hurt has dissipated she isn’t sure what to think—other than if not for the Exarch’s involvement, she would be on the Source, never having known Tesleen, and still fuming with righteous anger.

“I’ve never heard this story.”

“I’ve never told it. Not to anyone. You’re the first.”

Alisaie’s lips twitch. “Oh, lucky me. Alphinaud will be jealous.”

Aureia chuckles. “Oh, lucky you. He might just be.” She pauses, exhaling a breath. “It didn’t end well, her and I.”

“You lost her?”

“In a way, yes. But not in the way you’re thinking. Despite us being soldiers together, war didn’t take her from me. She did herself. She and I had… conflicting views on some matters, one could say. She wasn’t as interested in me as I was in her, and she wanted certain things from me I wasn’t willing to give. The rejection stung and at the time I wished I had never said anything, but if I’ve come to understand anything, it’s that it is better to take the leap and risk the fall than to always keep two feet on the ground.”

Alisaie’s legs dangle back and forth over the edge of the roof, the air weightless beneath her. “What happened then?”

“We carried on.” Aureia shrugs matter-of-factly. “We fought for years side-by-side. I don’t know where she is now, or if she even is still alive.”

“…I’m sorry.” She turns the story over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of the Aureia from back then and the Aureia she knows now. Somehow, it doesn’t quite connect. Aureia has always been confident. Bold. Secure in the knowledge of who she is and what she wants. “What about Aymeric? You were in love with him, weren’t you?”

“I was. For a time. Until I wasn’t. But I do know when I fell in love with him, even if I wouldn’t necessarily call it love. It was more of a… choice, one could say. The choice to love him over someone else. A choice I don’t think I can regret even though it’s over now.”

“Over?”

“Yes.” Aureia looks away, eyes trained on the darkening profiles of the trees below. “A decision we came to not long before I crossed over. It’s for the best.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

And Thancred?  

The words are on the tip of her tongue. She catches them before she speaks, reining in the impulse. Not now. This is not a conversation for now. It’s not her scab to pick at. Whatever Thancred and Aureia are, no one will know—especially not themselves—until their paths cross again.

High above, the sky bleeds to velvet navy as the evening finally sweeps across Lakeland. The first few stars twinkle above, shining as bright as they would upon the Source. The Crystal Tower glows gently in the distance, its blue spires piercing the night.  

“Alisaie,” Aureia says quietly, turning back to her. Her arm remains around her shoulders, a gentle reminder that she is not alone “I may have lost love, but I haven’t lost what you have. I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone you’re in love with, especially not in the way you did. Coming to terms with this will be one of the most difficult things you will ever do. I can’t tell you how to grieve, but I do know that you don’t have to do it alone—”

“I’m not… I wasn’t…”

She sucks in a sharp breath. Love… what does she know about it, really? Nothing. Nothing at all. Love is for fools, for youths with too much time on their hands and adults with too little, for the ones seeking marriage and the ones desperate for companionship. She’s never had anything to do with love. It’s too soon for that, isn’t it? Too soon. It’s easier to deny that she ever felt something at all now that Tesleen is gone. To harden this shield around her heart so she never has to feel the ugliness of it all ever again.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I was or not. I just… I don’t. I don’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Alisaie. I’m so sorry.”

“I just want her back.” A dry sob wracks her body. “Why can’t she come back? Why can’t she…”

But there are no more tears to shed.

Slowly, Alisaie straightens and wipes stained tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she raises her hands and combs them through her hair, carefully pulling it back into a high tail and tying it tight. Then she rises to her feet, readjusting the rapier on her hip, and stares out at the dark courtyard and boulevard before her. Quiet. Silent. Calm.

Recovering.

She balances on the edge of the roof, the wind gusting about her, gravity pulling her longingly at her. She can do this. Not because she must, but because she can.

“What are you thinking?” Aureia asks gently, rising to her feet.

Alisaie raises her chin, staring out across Lakeland one last time. She won’t return again. This is the last time she will see this particular view, from this particular angle. “I think it’s time we go home,” she replies. “Alphinaud must be worried sick about us, after all.”

Aureia smiles and gestures outward. “Shall we?”

Aether swirls around them, threads of magic pulled through the dark. One breath. Two. And then together they leap off the roof and into the welcome embrace of night.