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Chapter Text

Brigid yawned softly, and Cred looked up at her, raising his arms. She laughed and knelt down to pick him up. “So smart you're bein',” she cooed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Aye, ‘tis bein' time for bed.”

Cred reached out in Thancred's direction, hand opening and closing, and Thancred easily took it. “I know,” he said with a smile. “I'm coming, just let me collect your papa.”

Cred nodded and cuddled up against his mother's chest, horn digging in as always. Brigid sighed and shook her head at Thancred, smiling weakly. He chuckled and leaned down to drop his own kiss to Cred's head before leaving to fetch Urianger.

Brigid, meanwhile, carried her son (who would soon be far too big to carry, and that tugged at her heart) to his room, bumping the door open with her hip. A blink of her eye, and the lamp in the corner of the room was lit, casting a soft glow around the room. “Dinnae see anythin' yet, me wee lad,” she whispered. “But we'll be sure once your da gets here.” Cred nodded again, and Brigid sighed to herself. So quiet, her lad was tonight.

Soon enough Thancred joined them, Urianger trailing behind, a thick book held in his arms. Cred perked up, tail wiggling happily as he caught sight of them. A hand reached out, opening and closing, and Urianger took it in his own, smiling, as Thancred brushed past them, knife in one hand.

He slowly circled the room, making a point to investigate dark corners and under the bed, checking the closet. It was a sad fact of life that even in the Leveilleur guest house, monsters hiding under the bed was not an unlikely thing. (And Brigid would argue that the alleged head of the house was one of those monsters.) After several long minutes Thancred rose from where he had been checking the space behind Cred’s bed, grinning widely and sheathing his knife. “Nothing to fear,” he murmured, collecting his son from Brigid. He bounced the five year old once, grinning even wider as he pulled a laugh from him. “Let’s get you changed, and Papa will read your story.”

“I hath brought a tale of an unknowing princess, cursed to slumber overlong,” Urianger offered, as Brigid slipped into the closet to fetch Cred’s night clothes. At Cred’s pleased sound Urianger nodded in return, settling down in the chair next to Cred’s bed as his other parents pulled the nightshirt over his head, Thancred making sure it didn’t catch on tiny horns. Once settled into bed, Cred listened intently to Urianger’s voice, giggling at the various voices his papa slid into.

Soon enough tiny eyes started to slide shut, and Urianger took that as his cue to wind down the chapter he was on, ready to quietly close the book so as not to disturb the small child. But then a tiny voice that matched tiny eyes asked, “Mama sing?”

Brigid laughed and settled into the chair once Urianger vacated it. “‘Course, mo ghrá,” she murmured.

It was their little routine, the four of them, ever since the three adults returned from the First. And now, after preventing the Final Days and since Brigid’s recovery, it was a comfort to the small child they all were more than happy to ensure continued.

Thancred had checked for monsters. Urianger had given him stories. And so of course, Brigid sang his lullaby. “Me wee child, be nay ‘fraid…”

Chapter Text

“Rise and shine~!” sang Aurora’s voice as she threw open the curtains, letting bright morning sunlight stream in.

Which landed directly on the bed where Hythlodaeus and Hades still slept.

Hades groaned and shoved his head under his pillow, while Hythlodaeus only laughed softly and slowly pulled up the mask he had over his eyes, letting them adjust to the light. His soft smile went even softer as he spied his beloved, perfectly framed by the dawn’s light.

Aurora had her hands clasped behind her back, leaning over slightly with a large grin on her face. Her soft pink hair was nearly out of the braid they had sleepily woven it in when she got home, late the previous night, before she all but crashed into bed with them, snuggling up against Hythlodaeus. At least she’d managed to change into a nightdress, the light yellow perfectly matching her highlights. Then she giggled and all but bounced over to Hades’s side of the bed, tugging at the pillow. She clearly wasn’t putting any effort into it, as Hythlodaeus knew that if she really wanted, she could easily pull it away.

“Hades~!” she sang again, pitching it in such a way that would absolutely annoy the man. “It’s a beautiful day!”

“Not right now it isn’t,” he grumbled, voice muffled by fabric and feathers.

Aurora scoffed, perching her hands on her hips in mock indignation. “Not with that attitude it isn’t!” she fussed. “It’s a beautiful day,” she repeated, blue eyes flicking over to Hythlodaeus. “And our Man of Nonsense has the day free from approving every single shark variation Elpis sends his way!”

“And our ever wandering Azem has seen fit to return to us, just as the dawn has,” Hythlodaeus added, reaching over Hades to lace his fingers with Aurora’s, who happily accepted. Hades stiffened under their joined hands, as if expecting Hythlodaeus to pull Aurora on top of him.

He would do no such thing, of course. Not this morning, at any rate.

“Your Azem,” he protested, more out of habit than with any real heat. Aurora only giggled again, squeezing Hythlodaeus’s hand before letting go.

“Hythlodaeus’s Azem,” she agreed, a slight edge coming to her smile. “Now! We should take advantage of this most fortuitous turn of events! We have a table at the new breakfast place in downtown Amaurot waiting on us!” And with that she bounced out of the room, presumably to get dressed for the day.

Hythlodaeus chuckled and shifted to get a proper look at Hades. He lifted the corner of the pillow and grinned widely to see a golden eye looking at him balefully. “Isn’t it wonderful to have her home?” he asked softly, sincerely.

Hades sighed and deflated slightly. “It isn’t the worst,” he conceded.

And that was good enough for Hythlodaeus.

Chapter Text

Matsu walked past the couch, where his brother and their boyfriend were perched. And then he doubled back (ignoring the slight feeling of deja vu), purple on purple eyes blinking in confusion.

Araki turned the page in his book, and Arthur narrowed his eyes, glasses settled at the tip of his nose.

Matsu made a confused noise, and came up behind them, kneeling down and resting his chin on the back of the couch. “Is something amiss?” he asked quietly, and allowed himself a smile when Arthur huffed.

“Araki got a new novel,” he grumbled, and nodded when Araki went to turn the page and glanced at him for confirmation.

“A bad one?” Matsu asked, and the two shrugged.

“Maybe?” Araki offered, running a hand through his already messy hair. “We can’t decide.”

Matsu glanced at the book. “You’re more than halfway through.” In fact, he would risk saying that they were nearly three quarters through.

Arthur huffed again. “That’s what I’ve said.”

“Look, you just think the female lead is an idiot.”

“And you think both of the male leads are equally as stupid!”

“Well maybe if they looked at each other and realized they have just as much chemistry with each other as they do with her, the plot would have been resolved three chapters ago!”

Matsu rolled his eyes. “If you hate all the leads so much, why are you still reading it?”

Araki and Arthur looked at each other, then sighed.

“The background characters are compelling,” Arthur mumbled, and he sounded almost disappointed in that, somehow.

“I want to read more about the rest of the Yanxian harem,” Araki agreed, sounding just as disappointed. “It’s doing the heavy lifting here.”

“We’re hoping the author will write a sequel based on them.”

Matsu hummed in only slightly confused understanding. He was glad they’d found common ground on Araki’s “tawdry shite,” at least. Even if it did lead to moments like this. “Well, once you’re done pass it along to me.”

“You’re gonna hate it, dude,” Araki said, “but your choice I guess.”

Later on Matsu would have to agree, the leads would have been much happier if they’d all run away together, the harem intrigue was fascinating, and he very much would have rather read about them. He still finished the book though.

Chapter Text

“Li Li!”

William turned from where he was sorting through his bag to look over at his sister, who was walking over to him quickly, a scrap of paper between a pair of fingers. “Wha’d ye fergit, Bi Bi?” he asked, sounding only slightly annoyed.

Brigid huffed and crossed her arms, pouting up at him. “Dinnae forget anythin’,” she fussed. “Jus’ was havin’ things added to the list I wasnae ‘pectin’. And wasnae me addin’ to it, ‘fore you’re gettin’ thoughts like that in your head.”

William chuckled and plucked the list from her fingers, opening it up. “Ach, ‘tis Urianger’s fancy writin’,” he grumbled, now actually annoyed. “An’ Alphinaud’s.”

“You’re bein’ able to read Artie’s writin’.”

“Th’ runt’s chocobo scratch is bein’ different.”

“Liam.”

He sighed and slipped the list into his pocket. “Ah’ll see if Ah c’n find what they’re needin’,” he agreed. “But Ah’m ‘pectin’ th’ wee lordlin’ tae be payin’ me back.”

“Dinnae worry,” Brigid said with a grin, and held up a small bag. “He’s already passin’ ‘long the coin.” She tossed it over to her brother, who caught it and tucked it into his pocket. “‘Sides, I’m havin’ faith in your ‘bilities to haggle at the market.”

William laughed softly and opened his free arm, grinning as Brigid easily darted in for the offered hug. “Spoilin’ yer brithers,” he murmured into her hair.

“Someone’s needin’ to,” she murmured back, voice fond.

Chapter Text

Arthur dusted his feet off the best he could on the threadbare rug next to his bed before crawling into it, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Artie?” came a tiny voice from the other side of the room

Well. So much for that.

“Go back to sleep, Connor,” he whispered, pulling the covers up to his nose.

“Heard yellin’…”

“Just Bri and Will talking, don’t worry about it.”

There was silence between the two children for a long moment, and for that long moment Arthur thought Connor had done as he said and gone back to sleep. That hope was shattered when he heard little feet wiping themselves off on the other rug. He sighed and wordlessly lifted the covers so the seven year old could crawl into bed as well.

“I don’t like it when they yell,” he mumbled as he curled up against his older brother, and Arthur sighed.

“They didn’t yell much,” he soothed him, petting his hair. “Just Bri getting annoyed at Will.”

“What about?”

What about, indeed, Arthur thought to himself. Just her talking about leaving too, like everyone else older than the two of them already had. Even if she wasn’t going far, and not even soon. And Will getting mad about what she was going to do when she left. He was La Noscean, even if he was eleven he still knew what a brothel was.

“She’s thinking about getting a job he doesn’t like,” he said, softening it for the youngest of them.

“She shouldn’t do it then,” Connor fussed. “If Will doesn’t like it.”

“Will doesn’t like a lot of things.”

“And Llew shouldn’t get a job either!” Connor continued, as though Arthur hadn’t said anything. “They should be home! Da too!”

“I know,” he murmured, even as he held back a wince from the pitch Connor’s voice had taken. “I know.”

“Are you gonna get a job too?” Connor accused, looking up at him with the piercing green eyes that everyone but Llewellyn had inherited from their mother.

“I’m eleven, Connor. Eleven year olds can’t do the sorts of jobs that make it worth it.”

“Good.” Connor wrapped his arms around Arthur, without asking, and once Arthur managed to force back the ‘oh twelve no’ feeling that engendered he wrapped his own around Connor, though much less tightly. “You’re not allowed to leave too.”

He sighed and squeezed Connor for a second. “If I leave, it’ll be a long time from now. I promise.”

“Good.”

There wasn’t much Arthur could do about the state of his family, but one thing he could do was be a good big brother and protect Connor from it, as much as he could, for as long as he could.

Chapter Text

Brigid could pass as a proper lady. She was graceful and wore silks as easily as rough hewn cotton and linen. Thanks to her courtesan training she could serve tea as easily as she could slide a dagger into someone’s back. She could smile as prettily as an innocent babe, and dance as properly as a well placed courtier.

And then… she would open her mouth and prove she was anything but.

Her voice rolled like the waves of her native La Noscea, lending her singing a natural accompaniment. However, that same voice was rough, heavy in her native accent, not at all what one would expect of a “respectable” woman, or even a “respectable” Warrior of Light.

Not that Brigid cared.

She wasn’t a proper lady and had no desire to be. She didn’t want silks, to smile at insipid politicians. She would dance at their balls, but she was equally happy to dance with her blades, to sing amongst the bloodshed. To walk arm in arm with her husbands and her girlfriend, to scandalize the most uptight of Ishgard.

And then she would go home, snuggle her children, and tend to her garden. She was happy to be a bundle of walking contradictions, to fly in the face of all expectations.

Because she was not a proper lady. She was simply herself.

Chapter Text

Goro walked down the back streets of Hingashi, far from the sight of others, footsteps quiet. He shifted the files he carried in his hands, grumbling to himself. He hated debrief day. Even if it did only come every few moons, he hated it. It was a waste of his time, spent better on actually working on the cases, or doing his streaming job that Akira had pushed him into (gently suggested when they were young, and Goro had been a dumb, in love but not admitting to it yet, teenager).

And then a white tiger crossed his path, looking up at him with eyes that were far more person than tiger. Goro sighed and shifted his files to free up a hand, which he then placed gently on the tiger’s head. “Byakuen,” he greeted, and the tiger rumbled a greeting in return. Byakuen turned and walked away, the “follow me” obvious in the waving of his tail. As though Goro didn’t know the way to that specific Sekisegumi office already.

It was tucked away from the main buildings, the five former samurai that manned it somehow afforded special treatment from the rest of the Sekisegumi. Not a one of them had ever explained, and Goro had not asked. There were things even a detective did not stick his nose into, and this, he sensed, was one of them.

One of their interns opened the door for the two of them, and he nodded in both thanks and greeting to her as they passed by. Soon after he reached the main office, the tiger still at his side. Goro rolled his eyes before pasting on his interview smile and knocked, hesitating a moment before walking in.

Blond hair met his eyes, the older man in a green kimono sitting behind his desk, lowering his brush before interlacing his fingers. “Akechi-san,” he greeted, before gesturing to the chair in front of him.

“Date-san,” Goro returned, bowing deeply before setting the files on the desk, next to the plate that said “Date Seiji,” and took his seat. Byakuen rumbled again before taking his place at the man’s side, and Goro would later swear that the tiger smiled as he was pet gently.

Seiji hummed softly as he took in the stack. “Not as many as I expected,” he said quietly, before taking the top one and opening it.

Goro breathed out a laugh and tilted his head perfectly. “I was surprised as well, but this will allow us to give each case the attention it deserves.”

The eye that wasn’t covered by blond hair narrowed, but the moment quickly passed as Seiji turned over the first page. “I suppose so. We’re starting with the Yasuda case.”

The bell passed by quickly, the intern from earlier bringing them tea halfway through. The stack of files decreased just as quickly, and Goro had to force back the near shudder that tried to run through him as Seiji picked up the last file.

“The Phantom Thieves,” he said, and his eye flicked up at Goro. “I’m going to assume still no progress?”

Goro sighed as the other man opened the folder, which was a solid ilm thick. “If I had any clues, you can be assured I would have perused them.”

Seiji hummed to himself and started flipping pages. “And nothing was found at the Brutus estate?”

“Other than Yotsuyu-san being smug once again, nothing.”

Another hum. “This is the third time,” he murmured, half to himself. “What is that Eorzean saying?”

“I’m afraid it is not the charm.”

“So it would seem.”

The sound of the outside door opening didn’t draw the attention of the two men, but the voices certainly did.

“Ah, Touma-kun—! Seiji-kun is in a meeting!” The intern, Goro noted.

(Wait, the intern addressing them with -kun?)

“Eh, don’t worry about it Kayura,” answered a carefree voice with a slight Eorzean accent laid over top of his Hingan. Goro saw Seiji silently pinch the bridge of his nose just before the door opened.

What was it Futaba sometimes said? Ah, yes. You picked him.

“Hey Seiji!” A man dressed in a dark blue kimono with long, only slightly lighter blue hair pulled back in a ponytail, all but cheered as he came inside the office. “Oh, you’re here too, Akechi?”

Goro rose and bowed. “Hashiba-san,” he greeted, waiting for Touma’s nod before returning to his seat.

“It’s debrief day, Touma,” Seiji murmured as Touma rounded the desk to first give Byakuen a pat and then press a kiss to Seiji’s head, which Goro politely pretended not to see.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” He glanced over at the folder and winced. “The latest Brutus case?”

“I’m afraid we’re making very little progress,” Goro said, allowing himself another sigh.

“Clearly,” Touma murmured, and Goro had to remind himself to not take offense, it was just Touma’s usual bluntness and not anything personal. “You don’t think Yotsuyu is hiring them, do you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Seiji grumbled, running a hand over his face. Touma took it, interlacing their fingers together, which Goro also pretended not to notice.

“C’mon, your bell’s up by now, isn’t it?”

Seiji sighed, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “The Phantom Thief case needs at least half a bell on its own,” he grumbled.

“Then schedule another debrief day. I think Akechi needs to get back to his spouses, don’t you agree?”

Taking the out that Touma had been kind enough to offer, Goro stood. “I do have to admit, Akira is expecting me home soon.” His husband could deal with being thrown under the chocobo cart for this, and would probably happily take the blame for it. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Touma waved his free hand, apparently having decided the meeting was over on his own. “None at all. Byakuen will show you out, right buddy?”

Byakuen rumbled and nearly bobbed his head in a nod before standing and padding over to the door. Goro bowed one more time. “Give my best to your family,” he said, only following the tiger to and out the door when Seiji waved his free hand in dismissal.

The two former samurai looked at the door for a long minute after the detective left.

“Do you still think he’s Loki?” Seiji eventually asked, and Touma nodded. Seiji sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face again. “A fine mess,” he grumbled.

“Got no proof,” Touma said on a sigh. “Just a hunch. And not even a good one, considering the way Arsene infuriates him.” The two were quiet again, and then Touma tugged at Seiji’s hand, still holding it gently. “C’mon, Shin’s waiting for us. He and Shuu made dinner.”

Seiji breathed out a laugh and stood, brushing out his own kimono as he did. “And we can’t leave either of them waiting.”

Chapter Text

“Bri—” Thancred poked his head into his, Brigid, and Urianger’s bedroom, the bright smile that graced his lips suddenly dropping as he took in the sight that greeted him.

Every single ball of yarn, every combed braid and top, and even every raw, unprocessed fleece that Brigid had collected over the years were spread out around the room, settled in haphazard piles. Even a dye pot was wedged into a corner, overflowing with more yarn.

And in the center of it all sat Brigid, blood colored curls even more of a mess than normal. She was frantically digging through a crate that contained yet even more yarn, muttering to herself in Ancient Mhachi.

(Distantly Thancred wondered if his wife perhaps had too much yarn, but knew better than to even consider voicing such a thought aloud.)

“Bri,” he tried again, and huffed out a breath when Brigid jolted and spun around, emerald eyes wide with strands of hair falling in the way. “What happened?”

She looked around, as though only now noticing the mess their bedroom was currently in, and she bit her lower lip. “‘Tis sorry I am,” she murmured, and Thancred came in the rest of the way to kneel down beside her (after gently moving a raw fleece out of the way). He brushed the hair out of her eyes and ran his thumb along her cheekbone, to settle on the mole at the corner of her eye.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he replied. “What happened?”

Brigid leaned against him, settling her head on his shoulder. “Was losin’ some yarn I was needin’ for a project. ‘Tis bein’ important, I’m bein’ paid for it.”

Oh. Well, that was a problem wasn’t it?

“Have you—” he started.

“Liam’s nay knowin’ where ‘tis either,” she finished. Hm. So much for that. Usually if Brigid couldn’t find something, the ever organized twin brother could.

“When did you last eat?” he asked instead, and Brigid paused before pulling back and looking at him.

“What?”

Thancred sighed fondly before rising, bringing her up alongside him. “We’ll eat, and then I’ll help you find it.”

She looked at him closely before nodding, leaning against him again and letting him wrap an arm around her waist. “Alreet, we can be doin’ that.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple as they headed for the door. “What color is it?”

“Gray.”

“…and you couldn’t find it? In that rainbow?”

“Aye, I’m knowin’!”

Chapter Text

“Mama!”

“What is it, mo ghrá?” Brigid asked, her son tugging on her hand as hard as the toddler could.

“Sheep!”

She looked around, taking in the marketplace until her eyes landed on a small paddock that did indeed have sheep happily ambling about, with other Au Ra children excitedly clustered around the fencing. They were trying to get the sheep to come closer, some armed with handfuls of hay and other treats. “Aye,” she breathed, smiling softly. “Many sheep.”

“C’n I go? Go see sheep?”

Brigid hesitated, biting her lower lip, and looked over to Thancred, who had walked up beside her. He smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’ll take him over,” he murmured. “You keep searching.”

She let loose a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and kissed Thancred’s cheek. “Thank you, miodóg,” she murmured.

“You’re welcome. We’ll be only a ‘pearl away.”

Brigid nodded and looked down to Cred, before passing his hand to Thancred’s. “Be good for your da,” she said, though she knew she didn’t need to as the toddler nodded.

She patted his head and turned in the direction of a nearby shopkeeper, hoping they could direct her to the nearest Mol tribe member they could find.

Chapter Text

Hades had had the worst luck the past sennight. If something could have gone wrong, it most assuredly did. Walk across a bridge? He found the one rotten board that had somehow been missed. Get out of bed? Trip on the rug. Join the unofficial Convocation table in the cafeteria for once? Got stuck between Pashtarot and Nabriales having some sort of spat.

It was, not to put too fine a point on it, absolutely bloody ridiculous.

Hythlodaeus tried to soothe ruffled feathers, making all the appropriate coos and giving placating pets until Hades scowled just a little less. He even promised to take Hades out for lunch soon. And Hades had to admit… that did sound rather nice.

And then Azem came home.

At first she smiled as she heard all the trials and tribulations that Hades had gone through as of late, but as the stories went on the smile slowly dropped from her face, slowly to be replaced with a very familiar scowl. She made a soft, disapproving noise, tapped Hades on the nose, and after laughing at the scrunched up face he made, she disappeared again, this time into the depths of the Akadaemia. Hades wasn’t especially broken up by that fact (not that Hythlodaeus believed him of course).

Another week of horrendous luck passed, which included a two day span of time where he had no memories, and oh wasn’t that galling, before Aurora returned.

And she dumped a bucket of water over his head.

Hades sputtered and spat, pushing soaking wet hair out of his face, while Hythlodaeus choked back what was surely peals of laughter. “Care to explain yourself?!” he finally managed, glaring at the woman that Hythlodaeus had, for some reason, gone and fallen in love with.

“Lahabrea’s idea,” she spat, and Hades blinked in surprise. Aurora hated Lahabrea. “Dilute Lethe water with Phlegethon. Forget the bad luck and burn away what can’t be forgotten. Should be better by tomorrow.” She tossed the bucket to the side and stalked off, presumably to create some towels for him out of the fallen leaves nearby.

Hythlodaeus transformed a handful of grass into a small towel to start drying Hades’s hair. “And you think she hates you,” he murmured, voice fond.

“She just hates Lahabrea more,” Hades all but pouted.

“Mm, if you say so.”

Chapter Text

Someday they would be called the great love story of Gridania. When Sammy and Llewellyn made their weekly appearances in the marketplace, there would always be at least one group of people watching them, then to whisper to each other, “Someday I will find a love like that.”

It was an unusual pairing, the Elezen white mage, the Lalafell machinist, both of them outsiders to the Twelveswood. That they had found each other, could be seen as nearly a miracle. And yet they had, and had been hand in hand from nearly the beginning.

Theirs was a quiet love, one that didn’t call for grand declarations, loud gestures, extravagant gifts. Theirs was one of flowers, of soft touches, of gentle smiles. One day they had simply started referring to each other as husbands, and somehow all in the Twelveswood had happily gone along with them.

Llewellyn rarely spoke, and when he did his words were sparse, but he needed only look at Sammy to make it perfectly clear how much he adored the other man. And Sammy needed only to lean against him, to laugh softly, to make his adoration just as clear.

Theirs was a love to desire, to emulate, and for some the greatest of the many O’Donnell romances. For who could deny such devotion?

Chapter Text

Urianger was always one for the library. The quiet, the muted light everywhere but the reading rooms, the sparse number of people down the shelves he frequented most, it was the most comfortable space he had known for most of his life. Those dusty old tomes were some of the best friends he had ever had, save only for Moenbryda. Was it any wonder, then, that he spoke like they read?

Sadly, his predilection for the library only furthered his difficulties with connecting with his peers. Those older than him, or younger, were far more easy to understand. Once Louisoix took him and Moenbryda under his wing, once Ameliance laid Alisaie and Alphinaud into his arms and tasked him with looking after them for a bell, his small circle of acquaintances grew. As he followed Louisoix and Moenbryda, so too did Alisaie and Alphinaud follow him.

Especially Alisaie. His precious little sister, happy to spend what little quiet moments she had with him, happy to listen to his odd words, as outgoing and eager to be a bridge for him as Moenbryda was. Even if she was as often driven by temper as often as she wasn’t, her heart was ever in the right place. He found himself offering her comfort, as she grew and clashed more and more with her father, even if neither of them truly understood what drove Fourchenault to such behavior.

And then one day he had to leave Alisaie and Alphinaud, leave Moenbryda, to travel to Eorzea with Louisoix, and he would count that as perhaps the very first of what would become a very long list of regrets.

He was not yet close to any of the Circle of Knowing, as they were then. Not even Thancred, the orphan Louisoix had taken to foster after a previous sojourn to Eorzea. That would someday change, by the Twelve would that someday change, but not then. He would defer to Papalymo, as was correct for his senior, and to Y’shtola, for fear of angering her. He kept a watchful eye on Yda, but rarely was he needed, as Papalymo’s eye was even more watchful.

He would never be especially close to Yda (or even Lyse, later) or Papalymo. For once his peers were easier, perhaps because Y’shtola was just as studious as he was, and had a sharp wit to go along with it. And Thancred... well, he was Thancred, though Urianger didn’t understand at the time.

Then Dalamud fell. Louisoix fell. Urianger didn’t like to think about that time.

Alisaie was angry, far more angry than he had ever known her, even when her relationship with Fourchenault was at its worst. It was only a partial cover for her pain, for her grief, and as much as Urianger tried, he couldn’t help. Not the way he wanted, the way Alisaie needed.

(He couldn’t help Moenbryda, either.)

But then there was Brigid. She didn’t much care for him at first, he could see it whenever he chanced a look at her eyes, the way she would pause those first few moons they were acquainted. But they became used to each other, learned their respective quirks, and the day he found a knit pair of reading gloves left at his preferred seat in the Waking Sands library was one of the best days of his life.

Brigid was there when Alisaie needed to brave the Coils. Brigid was there when Moenbryda fell. She listened, followed along as best she could, let the both of them mourn as they needed. She claimed Alisaie as her little sister, called Moenbryda friend. And ever so slowly, he fell in love with a beautiful woman with a rose in her hair.

And ever so slowly, so slowly it took him years to realize it, he fell in love with a handsome man who took far too much blame on himself, who loved deeply and fiercely. Who had fallen in love with Brigid as well. And she had fallen, in turn, for Thancred.

And then one day, Urianger found they had, in turn, fallen in love with him. He didn’t understand it, but decided he didn’t need to, that one should not look askance at Menphina’s gifts. And oh, what a gift She had given him. His wife, his husband, and a small child that, though he could never say his name, had instead decided to call him Papa.

Chapter Text

Hilda slowly pushed open the door to the darkened room, Thancred at her back. She could make out the two forms settled on the bed, but not much else. She supposed it was kinder that way, judging from what she’d managed to get out of the Hyur.

Once her eyes adjusted she realized Brigid was settled on her side, her back to Hilda. Then the shape on Brigid’s other side must have been Urianger, she reasoned. She didn’t jump when Thancred let the door click shut, but it was a near thing.

“She looked worse, when she came back,” he whispered, lingering at the door.

She sounded bad enough, from the wheezing noises she made as she breathed. There was always a slight wheezing sound to her breath anyway, a consequence of her childhood of illness. And Hilda realized it had been worse in Ishgard, due to the ice and cold. But this was Sharlayan, and the room was almost too warm, thick with various herbs. That wheeze should barely be there, not audible from so far away.

“An’ she’s properly awake?” Hilda asked, throwing the barest of glances over her shoulder.

“Awake more than she sleeps,” Thancred confirmed. “But she still sleeps more than she ought.”

Hilda hummed and finally walked closer to her sleeping lady love, gently placing a bouquet of roses on the table. They were Hallinarte red, as opposed to the pretty thing’s preference for yellow, but those still hadn’t bloomed yet, still getting used to the Fortemps greenhouses Brigid had worked so hard to restore. Still, she knew Brigid would understand.

Arms now free she leaned over to see Brigid’s face, tucking a strand of hair behind the other woman’s ear. She was paler than she should be, still, and the wheezing was even louder. Perhaps it really was a blessing then, that she had been so busy with stabilizing Ishgard in the immediate aftermath of the Final Days and only now could come see her.

One of Urianger’s eyes cracked open, a sliver of gold that flicked upwards to look at her. He held a finger up to his lips before settling back down. Hilda nodded, and, after slipping off her boots, settled into the bed, tucking herself up behind Brigid, almost protectively.

Thancred continued to linger at the door for several more minutes before huffing out a breath and striding over as well, kicking off his boots and crawling in behind Urianger. Hilda found Brigid’s free hand first, the other already in Urianger’s own, and guided it to Thancred’s, so that they would all be connected, assured of Brigid’s continued survival.

Chapter Text

Alisaie checked the paper in her hand again as she wandered the Hingan streets. It had been Haru’s turn to pick the tea house, and Alisaie had been only slightly surprised it wasn’t one of her own locations, or Leblanc. It did mean, however, that she was slightly lost.

“Turn left here…” she muttered to herself, frowning down at the paper.

“Alisaie-chan!” called out a familiar voice, and Alisaie looked up to see both Haru Okumura and Mitsuru Kirijo already settled at an outside table… at the back of the tea house. Right. That… that was exactly what she needed, to embarrass herself in front of her fellow heiresses.

Haru was waving at her, bright smiles and fluffy, cloud-like light brown hair. Mitsuru was sipping her tea, pure elegance poured into an informal kimono, red hair tied up in a casual but no less perfect up-do.

(No she did not have a crush on her very married fencing senior, thank you very much.)

Thankfully this wasn’t one of the tea houses with a raised back section, but she still hesitated a moment before skipping the entrance to the establishment entirely. It wouldn’t be considered seemly for a woman to do such a thing in Hingashi or Sharlayan, but… well, it wasn’t as though Mitsuru hadn’t already seen Alisaie be less than ladylike, and Haru was not only a known associate of a delinquent, but married him besides.

(Not that Alisaie understood the problem; she’d met Akira and found him to be a perfectly lovely young man who adored his spouses to bits. But then, Hingashi was sometimes odd like that.)

She nearly went into an Eorzean bow before correcting herself and switching to Hingan. “Haru, Mitsuru,” she greeted before sliding into one of the remaining two empty chairs.

At the last minute Alisaie’s eyes lit on the figure nearly in shadow, behind Mitsuru. Feminine, with short blond hair and bright blue eyes. Aigis, her mind supplied, one of Mitsuru’s bodyguards. Alisaie was half convinced she was some sort of robotic relic of Allag, but she could never figure it out for sure. Either way, Aigis nodded at her silently, and Alisaie returned it. The woman was chattier when not on duty.

Mitsuru smiled, setting down her teacup. “A pleasure to see you, Alisaie-kun,” she said, as though this was a business meeting. But then, she was the heiress to the Kirijo Group, the largest technological group in Hingashi, it was only to be expected.

Haru, meanwhile, sighed softly. “So businesslike, Mitchan,” she said, shaking her head, hair brushing against the collar of her light pink kimono. Haru was the heiress of the Okumura Foods empire, scaling things back after the passing of her father. It was probably for the best, rumor had it that when it was under her father, the treatment of the workers was… less than pleasant.

Alisaie only shrugged and collected the teapot from the warmer at the center of the table. As the younger of the three it was now her duty to pour tea, and she topped off the other women’s cups before filling her own. “Are none of the others joining us?”

“Minako-kun is on her way,” Mitsuru said, eyes lowering with a sigh. “Ryoji-kun delayed her.”

“And Ann-chan has a modeling gig,” Haru added, selecting one of the daifuku from a plate near the teapot. “She’s asked me to collect as many sweets as I can for her.”

Alisaie laughed, just a little. Ann and her infamous sweet tooth. “I look forward to seeing Minako, at least.”

Mitsuru smiled, only barely hidden behind her teacup. “She was quite excited to see you,” she offered, and slid the bowl of amanatto over to Alisaie, who happily accepted the candied azuki beans.

“Then let’s hope Ryoji didn’t delay her too long,” Alisaie replied, as Haru laughed quietly.

The women chatted as they waited, inconsequential small talk to start. Mitsuru telling them all about the dinner Shinjiro, one of her husbands, had prepared the night before, and how Akihiko, her other husband, had needed to be banned from the kitchen entirely before he poured protein powder into the soup. Haru offering up some teenage hijinks that Akira and a couple of their now-spouses had gotten up to when they were still schoolmates.

Alisaie was about to launch into some tale at Alphinaud’s expense when a shout sounded from behind her. “Ali-chan!” She barely had the time to turn before footsteps clattered onto the wood of the seating area and she suddenly felt arms wrap around her in a tight hug.

Mitsuru gasped softly and rose, just a bit out of her chair, a hand raised in effort to stop the friendly attack. “Minako, we talked about this—!”

Alisaie could hear the pout above her head as she was freed, and Minako Arisato dropped into the seat between her and Haru. “I know, I know,” pouted the newly arrived redhead, dressed in an orange yukata that went surprisingly well with the orange tones in her hair. Her miqo’te ears were lowered and tail limp. “But Ali-chan said it was fine!”

“A moment to realize it’s you first, perhaps,” Alisaie said on a laugh. Truly, it was fine, her fellow twin knew her limits, even if she sometimes forgot them in her exuberance. It was rare enough Alisaie didn’t mind. “It’s good to see you.”

Minako perked back up, as did her ears and tail, grinning widely. “You too!” she cheered, and then launched an equally friendly attack on Haru, who only giggled and hugged right back.

Mitsuru gave a long suffering sigh and sat back down, sipping at her tea to cover her slight embarrassment. Alisaie topped off her tea when she lowered it again, and then filled Minako’s cup. And then instead of settling down for that cup, Minako bounced right back out of her chair and went to give the same treatment to Aigis, who had otherwise remained still and quiet. Though Alisaie did note the faint blush that came to Aigis’s face as she hesitantly hugged the woman back.

(Where did Minako get her energy from? she wondered.)

Finally though, Minako dropped right back into her seat and took a sip of her tea. “So much better than coffee,” she sighed, ignoring the mock scandalized look on Haru’s face.

Mitsuru laughed, eyes sparkling. “Don’t ever let Ken-kun hear you say that.”

“He was too young when he started drinking coffee anyway. Even Kiki would agree with me, wouldn’t he Haru?”

Haru sighed. “Akira would question why a ten year old was drinking coffee,” she agreed, sipping her tea.

Minako’s ear twitched in a way that Alisaie knew meant, See? and she sipped her tea with a palpable air of smugness that was somehow endearing.

Alisaie shook her head fondly and slid the plate of assorted mochi over to her. “How’s Minato?” she asked, and Minako sighed even as she picked up a strawberry flavored one.

“Same as always,” she murmured, before forcing a bright smile to her face. Which she then passed her hand over, revealing a completely flat affect, which did not suit her at all, but was a perfect recreation of the ever present expression on her twin brother’s face. “But he and Roro went on a date the other night, and when they came home?” she giggled and ate her mochi in a single bite. “I swear he was smiling, just a little bit.”

Haru clapped delightedly and Mitsuru smiled fondly. “Ryoji-kun has always been good for him,” she said, breaking a piece of karumeyaki off the larger serving she had been nibbling from through the earlier conversation. Behind her, Alisaie noticed Aigis twitch, just a little.

“What about Alphinaud?” Minako asked, getting another strawberry mochi before passing the plate over to Haru.

Alisaie sighed and shook her head. “In over his head with the approaching exhibit,” she grumbled, and all three women joined her.

“Yusuke is… oh how do I say this kindly…” Haru murmured, bitting her lower lip as she fretted.

“Gone insane?” Alisaie supplied, rolling her shoulder where her tattoo sat, covered by her own kimono.

Another sigh from Haru. “I hate saying that,” she said, even as she nodded. “We’ve needed both Goro and Ryuji to pull him out of his studio to make sure he eats lately.”

“And you already have trouble with that,” Minako added, patting her shoulder.

“Yoshino-san has, thankfully, remained calm,” Mitsuru said, lowering her cup with a little more force than necessary. “Junpei-kun, however…”

“I’m working on him, I swear,” Minako interrupted, holding out a placating hand. “But he’s as nervous as a new father.”

“Still, you know we have it easier than the Péngyǒu Royal Family,” Alisaie said, helping herself to some doriyaki.

“His poor manager…” Haru said, eyes full of sympathy.

There was a moment of silence, wishing well for those who had to deal with eccentric artists.

“On a hopefully more pleasant topic,” Mitsuru finally said, “Kirijo Group received your father’s invitation to your debut.”

Alisaie blinked in surprise, mouth dropping open slightly, and then looked at Haru as she made a sound of agreement. “Okumura Foods did as well,” she said, nodding even as she frowned. “Though I understand you’ve already invited Goro?”

“I— I did, but… Father sent invitations to you both?” she asked, slightly aghast. Such an overreach, even for him! Who else might he have thought to invite! Gods, what if he had invited the Ul’dhan Sultana! Or even the Elder Seedseer!

“Would you prefer we turn him down?” Mitsuru asked, pulling out her tomephone. “I was uncertain if we could fit it in, but if you need sympathetic company, I would be happy to reschedule some things.”

“I was going to publicly reject it anyway,” Haru said, her voice taking a hard edge, one that the women hardly ever heard from her. “Horrible man.”

“Toto, Roro, and I can crash it!” Minako offered, all bright eyes and mischievous smiles.

“We ‘have your back’, as they say,” agreed Aigis, finally speaking up.

In that moment Alisaie felt the creeping panic drain before she had even had enough of a chance to register it. Of course her friends would make such offers. Of course her friends were there for her, even the quiet, probably a robot bodyguard. She sighed shakily, and Minako made a worried sound as she placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Ali-chan?”

“Thank you, all of you,” she whispered, before looking up at all of them with a slight but strong smile. “I would love party crashers, sympathetic company, and Haru?”

“Yes?”

Alisaie’s smile turned nearly vicious. “Issue the cut direct.”

She giggled and delicately but pointedly pulled the head off of a taiyaki. “As you request.”

Chapter Text

Brigid held two dyed locks of wool up to the light, a frown forming on her face. She hummed softly, tilting her head to one side, then the other.

William sat to the side, going through Connor’s pack, grumbling softly at the multitude of scrap papers the young man had collected along the way. He gently uncrumpled them, eyes squinting as he checked them for anything that might be important. He then sorted them into a handful of piles, depending on what he managed to suss out.

“Li Li?” she asked after several long moments, still holding up her wool. William grunted in acknowledgment. “Are these two goin’ together?”

He looked up, and wordlessly Brigid tilted the wool so he could get a better look at them. One lock was a bright yellow, something he would associate with buttercups. The other was a muddy green, like trodden grass after a rainstorm. Another grunt before he went back to the bag in his lap. “Thinkin’ ye whaur havin’ a mixup in th’ dye pot,” he answered. “Sumthin’ wrong wi’ th’ green.”

She sighed and lowered her hands so she could get a closer look at the green. “Aye, thinkin’ you’re bein’ right. And the yellow’s bein’ brighter than it should.” Another sigh before she started digging through her sample drawer again. “Needin’ more blue,” she mumbled, half to herself. “Blue’s goin’ with most things.”

“If ye’re havin’ a lighter yellow an’ c’n be findin’ a proper green, culd be makin’ sumthin’ nice wi’ a light blue,” he offered. “‘Tis it ye’re makin’ anyway?”

Brigid paused, long enough that William looked up at her. He couldn’t really name her expression at first, until it fell into an almost sheepish smile.

“Baby blanket.”

Chapter Text

“It’s so nice,” Arthur murmured, running his hand down the fur, before bringing his hand back up to stroke down it again.

Araki laughed, tucking the fur blanket tighter around his boyfriend. “Yeah? I bet it is, your eyes are huge, dude.”

Arthur looked up at his boyfriend, glasses askew and giving Araki a clear view of exactly how big those eyes had gotten, pupil dilated so much Arthur’s irises were little more than a thin band of green. “So soft,” he said, as though that fact was the truth of the world.

Another laugh from Araki. “Glad you like it then,” he said fondly, patting the top of Arthur’s head before pulling the blanket up over him. “Now go to sleep, you sound like you’re high.”

Arthur blinked at him, confusion clear on his face. “But I’m not,” he protested weakly.

“I know you’re not, you’re more sleep deprived than I’ve seen you in ages.”

The hyur hummed under his breath softly, a hand still absently stroking the fur blanket.

“I need sleep,” he said after several long minutes.

Araki sighed and swept Arthur up into his arms, making the other man squeak. “You do. C’mon, let’s go.”

“Mmkay.”

Chapter Text

“I have an offer for you, if I may,” Aymeric said, sat behind his desk, hands opening as he spoke.

Brigid, Thancred, and Urianger glanced at each other before nodding.

“I would like to offer for Ishgard to host your upcoming bonding.”

Urianger’s eyebrow popped up. Thancred’s face remained implacable, and Brigid shifted in her seat. “We’re nay bein’ part of your church,” she said, a gentle but not outright refusal.

“I’m aware of that, of course,” he replied, a slight smile on his lips and in his voice. “However, I do not believe one must be a follower of Halone to be married in Her city. Consider it part of my gratitude for everything you have done for us, and part of our repayment, however paltry it may be.”

Thancred leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. Urianger glanced at Brigid, taking the hand nearest him and gently brushing his finger alongside it. The men were deferring to the bride to be, and Aymeric had to respect them for it. Brigid sighed, shaking her head slightly. “You’re nay needin’ to be repayin’ us,” she murmured. “‘Twas only bein’ the right thing to be doin’.”

“Nonetheless, it feels proper to offer.” And then his smile turned slightly sheepish. “And, if I may admit to my selfishness, I would very much like to share in your joy and support you however I may.”

Brigid laughed softly and took Thancred’s hand with her free one, the two of them having a silent conversation. After a moment Thancred smiled, one that Aymeric would call besotted, and Brigid beamed. She then turned to Urianger, who took barely a moment before leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. She giggled again, blushing softly, before pulling her hands from her husbands to be and, to Aymeric’s surprise, took his.

“Then we’ll be takin’ you up on your kind offer, and nay be callin’ it selfishness, as you’re bein’ a dear friend.”

Aymeric looked at their hands, then looked up to her, and his surprise morphed into a smile. “You’re a dear friend as well.”

Chapter Text

G’raha had read everything he could get his hands on about the past one hundred years. Heavensward, scraps of reports from the Immortal Flames, tawdry romance novels hand bound and circulated through Limsa, even what little had gotten out of Garlemald.

If it was text on a surface, G’raha had read it. A time or two he had found grave rubbings, as much as he hated to use them. It was all he could do, as the Ironworks scattered around him, doing the preparations that his awakening had thrust upon them.

He had read everything. Except one letter.

It had been brought to him late one night, by one of the younger members. He couldn’t remember their name, or much of what they looked like, but he remembered the wooden box.

It was small, clearly made for holding letters, perhaps only a couple of ilms deep. He knew the style of carving was the one Araki Ryuzaki had practiced, and the small Hingan lettering carved on the bottom only confirmed it. It was only slightly adorned, trailing vines and flowers that served to accentuate the grain of the cherry wood.

Inside it held the few letters Connor — Twelve, Connor — had written G’raha after he’d sealed himself away, and one other.

G’raha had read the first set of letters over and over again, desperate to know, to understand, the man his friend had become in his absence. Even if it hurt, he had to know. And hurt, it did.

(Eternal Wind had survived, and still had no words. G’raha wasn’t sure if he could ever write them, now.)

That final letter, however. From one Thancred William O’Donnell-Waters.

He knew the story by now, of course. The surprise child of Brigid O’Donnell and Dzoldzaya Mol, born in the midst of the Dragonsong War. A bright child, clearly loved and loving.

Who had lost both mother and adopted father, along with the rest of his Eorzean family, to the Black Rose while he was spending time with his sire, safe in the Azim Steppe. Which was why he alone of the O’Donnells survived. Survived to be raised by his Au Ra family, survived to become a senior member of the Ironworks, survived the longest of them all through his Elezen and Au Ra blood. Who had decided they needed to awaken the Tower, perhaps even awaken G’raha himself.

Who had but recently passed.

Well, ten years ago recently. But not before leaving G’raha a final letter.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before picking it up and carefully opening it.

G’raha,

If my plan was successful, you’ve awoken. And if you’re reading this instead of hearing it from me… I did not live to see it. I wish I could have met you, Uncle Nor always spoke highly of you, though it clearly tore his heart to remember you.

You’ve heard my story by now, and through it I hope you know I do not begrudge you for my uncle’s pain. The least bad choice of a wealth of bad choices. A sensation I am all too familiar with.

You also know what Uncles Cid and Ro left for you. The plan to travel through time, to save the world. When they suggested it originally I nearly laughed at the redc redcul absurdity of it. Even with Lex, as I’m told Mama would call him, directing it, how could we manage it?

And then I remembered the Tower. I remembered you, and the pained joy you brought my uncle. Things I am also told I should not remember, yet I do. If I remember such things from such a young age, how could they not be important? When I suggested the Tower, suggested you, everything began to move so fast, even for the slow pace of wedded Eorzean and Garlean deserter tech.

All three of us are gone now. The remaining ones will tell you, as my uncles said for them to tell you, that this we leave you is an offering, not an edict. And it is.

But it is also the last wish of an almost completely orphaned three year old boy, cut off from his Eorzean homeland in an instant. Who loved his aav, yes, and loved him dearly, but he was not Mama. He was not Da. He wasn’t Uncle Lyn, Li Li, Artie, Nor. Wasn’t home.

Please, please, grant this boy’s wish. Please save his family.

Forgive my selfishness for wanting my family over the world.

May you ever walk in the light of the Crystal,
— Thancred Wil Cred O’Donnell

The final few paragraphs were marked with tearstains, and several more joined them before G’raha managed to shove the letter away, his hand jerking back as if it had burned. He curled up in a ball, ears flat and tail wrapped around himself as he held back heaving sobs, hidden in his crossed arms.

It was an edict he had been offered, from the hands of a little boy. How could he ever refuse it?

Chapter Text

Arthur sat, cross legged on the floor, as he stared down the animals that sat across from him. He frowned at them, glaring even as his glasses slowly slid down his nose.

The animals were, in fact, a pair of chickens. One white, one purple. They stared back at Arthur, completely unbothered by this situtation.

Ame was fast asleep behind him, equally unbothered.

Arthur glared deeper.

The chickens stared back. The purple one clucked.

“I’m the one asking the questions here!” Arthur instantly shot back.

The chickens did not respond.

“Who do you work for?” he hissed.

One of Ame’s ears flicked.

Still no response from the chickens.

Arthur leaned in closer. The chickens didn’t move. “You might act like there’s not a thought behind those beady little eyes, but I know there’s at least one. Explain yourselves!”

The white one clucked, turning to look at the purple one. The purple one did what Arthur would swear was the closest approximation to a shrug a chicken could do, before the white one looked back at him. The purple one clucked again.

“A likely story!”

Araki sighed, and turned from where he was looking over the back of the couch to look at his twin. Matsu was reading that harem drama Araki and Arthur had been reading just a few sennights before. “Should we do something?” he asked, as Matsu turned a page.

“It’ll do him good to get it out,” Matsu said, frowning as he read. “The birds will leave when they get bored.”

“Yeah you’re probably right.”

Another cluck.

“Pull the other one!”

Araki and Matsu both sighed. Ame only snored.

Chapter Text

“I’m suddenly understandin’ how your brother was turnin’ out the way he was at the start,” Brigid grumbled as she and Alisaie wandered the Sharlayan marketplace. The suddenness of it made Alisaie laugh before she choked it back.

“If you’ll recall, I was hardly much better,” she attempted to defend her brother, weakly smiling as Brigid turned a flat look on her.

“Oh, you were bein’ much better than him, I’m promisin’ you. The way he was speakin’ to poor Cid after walkin’ into the Church of Saint Adama like he was ownin’ the place…” she pursed her lips and tsked, shaking her head. “Dinnae think you’d ever be doin’ such a thing.”

Alisaie sighed, shaking her head. “You do have a point…” she reluctantly agreed. “That’s all Fa… all Fourchenault, I’m afraid.”

Brigid hummed softly and wrapped an arm around Alisaie’s shoulders. Her precious adopted sister had finally reached her growth spurt, and was well on her way to being taller than Brigid. But not yet. “So I’m seein’, but he’s gettin’ better, and I’m bein’ proud of him.”

“But not so proud you’ll let him forget, of course.”

“‘Course nay! First, ‘tis bein’ the right and proper duty of a sister to be playfully teasin’ her wee brothers, and second, he’s needin’ to be rememberin’ where he was startin’ so he’s nay givin’ any thought to goin’ back to it. Cannae be riskin’ that, now can we?”

This time Alisaie let herself laugh, even if it was a quiet one. “We certainly cannae,” she agreed, letting herself dip a little into Brigid’s accent.

And given the way Brigid’s face lit up with a bright grin, Alisaie decided she might do it more often.

Chapter Text

The door clicked shut.

It was a lovely building they had picked for the joint art exhibition. Rooms flowed easily one from the next, “walls” made of transparent material for the majority of the artwork to hang from, and perfectly lit. Already guests were milling about, taking in the various styles from the four artists.

Yusuke Kitagawa, with his traditional Hingan styles, was first. Classical portraiture, elegant brushwork calligraphy, and even a few landscapes lined the walls. He was the one with the most variety of artwork, and those who knew his history were not especially surprised. His centerpiece work was an ukiyo-e style portrait of one of his wives, Ann Takamaki, wearing a red kimono and holding a matching parasol. The woman herself bounced with glee as she milled about the room.

He was followed by Alphinaud Leveilleur, with his more modern portraits, and his sketch-work. His centerpiece work was a portrait of Dulia-Chai, the painting on loan from the woman herself, who was more than happy to gush about it and the artist himself to anyone who stopped at it long enough.

Chidori Yoshino followed after, the only woman at the exhibition. Her art was by far the more avant-garde, leaning almost into the horror genre, with harsh pen lining and pencil shading. Only her one portrait bucked the trend, a visibly soft drawing of her husband. Said husband, Junpei, stood nearby with a broad smile on his face, somehow even more happy and willing to gush about his artist than Dulia-Chai was.

The final artist was Rafayel, who didn’t use his surname professionally, a member of the Péngyǒu Royal Family. Landscapes were his forte, and not a portrait in sight. Many were more swirls of color than anything else, though several seemed to be set underwater, the brush strokes somehow blurred perfectly.

“Open it!”

“I can’t!”

Scattered conversations could be heard, patrons ooh’ing and ahh’ing over the various pieces, debating with themselves over the ones up for sale. Many lamenting how few of Yusuke’s were, and his spouses sighing as they tried to explain, yet again, that the artwork was the goal for him, and not the proceeds.

Several people were clustered near the buffet table, which curiously declared that it was completely dairy-free. Most were choosing to get water or lemonade before turning to the paintings, though one woman in a deep blue hanfu with deep red hair was smiling brightly and put several finger sandwiches on her plate before returning to her companions.

Brigid was one of those people getting lemonade before turning back to her own companion, smiling as they made their way to Alphinaud’s section. She turned to Hien, who for once was embracing his minor title and was dressed in a blue-black chaopao, and wrapped an arm around his. “Doin’ such a good job, aran~” she teased.

He sighed, a touch of melodrama on the edge of it. “It was so difficult, quèbān,” he lamented, but smiled at the end. “But I shall happily accept your praise.”

Brigid laughed, leaning against his arm. While their romantic relationship had long since ended, it was always nice to spend time together and she was always happy to fill in as his plus one to official events. “Oh aye, so difficult to be gettin’ so many artists in a building you were just needin’ to be addin’ transparent walls to~”

Hien laughed as well, and they turned a corner, only to be met with Louisoix Leveilleur, leaning on his cane. “Pardon my interruption,” he said, so softly as to be nearly a whisper, “but have you seen Alphinaud recently?”

“Let me try. Moonstone!”

Brigid and Hien looked at each other, thinking it over, before looking back at Louisoix. “I’m ‘fraid nay,” she replied, just as quietly. A movement caught her attention, and it was Alisaie darting through the crowds, stopping at clusters for a moment before moving on to the next. “Is he missin’?”

Louisoix’s jaw tightened for a moment before he spoke. “Miss Dulia mentioned that she hadn’t seen him for quite some time,” he explained.

Brigid could feel her stomach start to sink. “We’ll be keepin’ our eyes out for him,” she promised. “He cannae have gone far.”

Alisaie quickly came up alongside them, face flushed and shoulders heaving. “No one has seen him,” she whispered, and the four of them clustered together to avoid their voices carrying. “And the Péngyǒu royals just told me they haven’t seen Rafayel in a bit either.” Alisaie’s tomephone chimed, and she pulled it out, a hopeful look on her face, only for it to be dashed as she read the notification.

“What is it, dear?” Louisoix asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Goro,” she whispered, looking up at her grandfather, face gone pale. “He says Yusuke is missing too.”

Before the four of them had time to process that, came the yell that threw the whole event into chaos.

“Has anyone seen Chidori?!”

Chidori sighed, her petticoats rustling under her gothic shiro-lolita dress as she leaned against the wall. Just her luck to be trapped with two of the most overdramatic artists she had ever met and Alphinaud Leveilleur in a locked storage… closet? It was a bit large to be a closet but it wasn’t quite a room either.

And of course…

“My calls continue to fail!” Yusuke lamented, his face buried in his hands.

…they didn’t have tomephone service, not on any of the networks.

Rafayel had thrown himself onto the nearest pile of empty cardboard boxes, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes and his long purple braid trailing over his light blue yuanlingshan. He had whined about this somehow being one of the worst days of his life, but Chidori had quickly tuned him out.

At least Alphinaud wasn’t being a bother, she decided, as she watched the young man lean against his service carbuncle. His eyes were a bit more distant than they should have been, but at least he was quiet.

She took out her sketchbook and turned it to a blank page. If she was going to be stuck here, she might as well add to her exhibition.

She could only hope Junpei didn’t notice before she got out.

Junpei, of course, had noticed his wife was missing. Which drew attention to the fact that all four of the artists were missing.

Dulia-Chai had to be led out of the hall completely, Chai-Nuzz doing his best to comfort his distraught wife, and Alisaie had to promise that she would be the first person she contacted when they found him.

Minako had taken Junpei to the side and was leading him in breathing exercises in a mostly failed attempt to help him calm down. Her twin and their boyfriend, Ryoji, were quietly talking with Mitsuru and Aigis, and it could only be assumed the four of them were developing some sort of plan of action. To find the missing artists or get Junpei to quiet down, was a bit more uncertain.

Three of the five members of the Péngyǒu Royal Family in attendance were huddled together, the Princess Xiaoming at the center of them, tapping something into a tablet she had pulled out of a pocket hidden in her deep blue hanfu. The Prince Xavier had a hand on the hilt of his sword, scanning the room. Sylus had been at Xiaoming’s side along with Prince Xavier, but a small, dark skinned boy in a bowtie had pulled him to the side and Sylus was knelt down, speaking with him in quiet tones.

Yusuke’s spouses were doing little better than the rest of them, Akira’s hands, tail, and ears nearly a blur as he signed to the others, Ann making soothing noises and rubbing her hand along his upper back. Futaba was leaning against the wall, the orange haired lalafell typing away furiously at her laptop, grumbling about “stupid Inari” going missing.

After seeing the unrelated gallery patrons into a separate room, Hien had settled himself in a corner, his linkpearl pressed up against an ear, presumably calling his contacts in the Doman government to keep an eye out. Just on the off chance that Junpei was somehow right. The last thing any of them needed was an international incident, and the kidnapping of a Royal Family member and anyone connected to the Leveilleur, Kirijo, and Okumura families was the quickest way to one.

Brigid sighed and knocked back the last of her drink, wishing she had thought to pack her flask for this trip. She sat at a table with members of each of the groups missing an artist. “What are we knowin’ so far?” she asked the assembled group.

Alisaie sighed, shaking her head. “Not much,” she said. “I know Alphinaud went to find… something, I couldn’t hear him over the crowd and he left before I could ask him to repeat it.”

Zayne pulled off his glasses and pinched his nose, black braid sliding off his shoulder. “Rafayel was complaining about the light on one of his paintings,” he said, the note of long suffering clear in the doctor’s voice.

“Of course he was,” grumbled Goro. “Last we saw Yusuke, he was offering to get Ann something from the table, but the odds are good he was distracted by something.”

Another sigh came from the last woman of the table, as she closed her miniature computer. She was the quiet one of Junpei’s group, Brigid was pretty sure her name was Fuuka. “Junpei says Chidori was looking for the restroom. He’s… also pretty sure she was kidnapped.”

“With all four of them missing? Unlikely,” Goro responded, before glancing over his shoulder. Akira’s hands were still a blur, with Ryuji’s hands on his shoulders, trying to calm the miqo’te. “I expect they simply got lost.”

Chidori was glad she had at least found the restroom before she got stuck.

Alphinaud was somewhat more animated, still leaning against his carbuncle but digging through the bag he kept at his side.

Rafayel was still draped over the cardboard boxes, muttering about something.

Yusuke, however, was slowly getting on Chidori’s very last nerve. Which was impressive, considering Junpei was, as Futaba put it, the one Chidori picked.

“I was unable to obtain food before being locked away!” and other such complaints filled the room.

Just before Chidori could finish deciding if it would be too much trouble to gag the man, Alphinaud made a pleased sound and pulled a pack of rice balls out of his bag. “I have some food, if you need it,” he offered, stopping the other man mid-sentence.

Now, Chidori did have to admit, Yusuke would be the first one of them to waste away, the stick figure of a man that he was. So she was unsurprised when his head turned sharply in Alphinaud’s direction. “Yes, thank you,” he said, settling down next to the Elezen. “Ah! A delightful repast!” he declared, taking one of the rice balls.

Alphinaud smiled before turning to Rafayel. “I have enough to share,” he called out to the wilted man. “If you would like some.”

Rafayel raised his arm slightly so he could turn purple-blue-pink eyes on the Elezen. “Is it dairy-free?” he asked suspiciously.

Alphinaud hummed as he turned the packaging over to read the ingredients list. “No milk warning,” he said, looking back up at Rafayel. “Are you allergic?”

Rafayel paused, before sighing and leveraging himself up off the boxes. “No, Xiaoming is. We avoid it as a matter of course for her.”

“Ah, that’s why the buffet is dairy-free!” Yusuke noted, smiling with the expression of one who just solved a mystery. “My compliments to the caterers!”

Rafayel rolled a shoulder in an elegant shrug, and took the offered rice ball. “Sylus hired them,” was his only response before dropping down on the floor, nearby if not really part of the slowly forming group.

Alphinaud nodded and turned his attention to Chidori. “I have one more?” he offered. “If not that, I have other snacks.”

Chidori blinked, surprised to be addressed. She looked up at Alphinaud, before looking back down at her sketchbook. Looking at the image of Junpei that had appeared under her pencil, she sighed and closed it. “Thank you,” she murmured, and settled next to Alphinaud, taking the rice ball.

“It’s not bad,” Rafayel decided, holding it up to examine it closer. “For convenience store, at least.”

Alphinaud laughed weakly, quickly finishing his own rice ball before looking back in his bag. “Neither Alisaie nor myself are quite skilled at Hingan cooking yet,” he explained, pulling out a large bag of trail mix that he wordlessly handed to Yusuke.

“I was under the impression the Leveilleurs had a chef,” Yusuke murmured, scooping a handful out of the bag and into the container the rice ball had been in.

The elezen in question sighed as he took the bag back from Yusuke to pass over to Chidori. “I would rather learn for myself,” he murmured.

Chidori looked inside and frowned as she picked out a few peanuts and raisins, before checking the ingredients list and returning it to Alphinaud. “You should,” she said, “too many people don’t bother.”

“To be fair,” Yusuke said, nibbling at his trail mix, “some nearly burn down the house when they try.”

“Goro?”

Yusuke nodded. “Goro.”

“You have one of those too huh?” Rafayel grumbled. “Can’t let the prince near the kitchens.”

Chidori had never been so glad Mitsuru had married Shinjiro until that moment.

Brigid sighed, leaning back and covering her eyes with her hand. This was exhausting. It had been a bell and a half since Louisoix had approached herself and Hien, and at least a half bell in addition to that since the artists went missing.

The soft sound of a paper plate being sat down next to her drew her attention, and she looked up to find Hien’s hand pulling away from it. “Aye, thank you,” she murmured, taking one of the finger sandwiches.

Hien sat down next to her, looking out over the groups. Zayne had rejoined the rest of the Royal Family, and was holding one of Princess Xiaoming’s wrists as the woman in question pecked away at her tablet with her thumb. Sylus looked up from his conversation and narrowed his eyes at the lights, frowning slightly. Prince Xavier tilted his head in question, his blond braid shifting as he did so. Sylus stared at the lights a little longer before bracing his arm on Prince Xavier’s shoulder and whispering to him.

Goro was still at the table, taking notes on a small notepad, but Akira had joined them, eyes and ears sad and leaning his head on Goro’s shoulder. Goro sighed and wrapped his free arm around Akira’s waist, tugging him closer. Fuuka was cross referencing her own notes with Goro’s.

The Airsato twins had finally managed to wrangle Junpei into something resembling calm. The man’s ball cap shadowed his eyes but a set of headphones lead to an old fashioned portable orchestrion held by Minato, the blue haired twin’s other hand resting on Junpei’s shoulder. Minako was rubbing a hand up and down Junpei’s back. Ryoji was at the table, collecting several plates of food for the four of them.

Alisaie was staring at her phone, curled up against her grandfather. Louisoix had wrapped an arm around his granddaughter, holding her close but otherwise looking calm. Haru, Ann, and Mitsuru had gravitated over to them, and Ann was gently stroking Alisaie’s free hand, sympathy clear on her face.

Hien sighed and propped his chin on Brigid’s shoulder, making her laugh softly. “You looked as though you could use it, quèbān,” he said, moving back when Brigid patted his cheek.

“How was I endin’ up the head of this wee group?” she asked, sighing and leaning back against him.

“Bad luck?” he offered, and laughed as Brigid scowled. “And your natural leadership skills.”

She huffed out a breath before eating another finger sandwich. “‘Tis what we’re callin’ it now?” She wiped her hand on a napkin before sitting back up properly and turning to Hien. “Learnin’ anythin’?”

Hien shook his head, pulling out his linkpearl and scrolling through his text messages. “No news of any ransom demands,” and then he lowered his voice, “and Ser Sylus has confirmed that his associates haven’t heard anything in the underground.” Brigid nodded, mentally deleting half the conversation from her memory already. She didn’t need to know the ins and outs of the Péngyǒu court’s inner workings. “I’m waiting for a delivery of the floor plans.”

“That won’t be necessary!” came a triumphant voice, followed by a laptop being all but dropped onto the table. That was followed by a shock of orange hair, and Akira finally smiled as he sat up to pull Futaba into his lap. “I have the plans right here!”

Goro groaned and covered his eyes with a gloved hand. “Please don’t admit to hacking into the Doman government’s networks in front of a Doman noble.”

Futaba gasped, and Akira laughed. “I’m offended you think so lowly of me, Goro! Akira! Reprimand your husband!”

Akira laughed again and held his hands up, signing “How dare you accuse my sister of such a thing,” but then flicked his tail playfully, making Goro roll his eyes.

Hien just watched the trio for a moment, then shrugged. “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said, and Goro groaned while the miqo’te and the lalafell laughed.

Alphinaud was back at his bag, digging through it before pulling out a small bag of plain popoto chips that he offered to Rafayel, and the man easily took it. “Why so many snacks?” he asked, pulling open the bag.

“Alisaie and I don’t process hunger signals,” Alphinaud explained easily, offering the trail mix bag to Yusuke again, which the Hingan artist took happily. “It simply became easier to keep food with us.”

“Futaba has a similar problem,” he said, nodding sagely. There was a slight buzzing sound at Yusuke’s side, and he glanced down at his tomephone. His face crumpled and he sighed. “The battery died,” he whispered, as though he had just experienced a great tragedy.

“Probably from searching for a signal,” Rafayel chuckled, then glanced at his own, the small smile on his face falling.

“Mine died half a bell ago,” Chidori said, reaching out for the trail mix.

Alphinaud chanced a glance at his, and sighed. “Of course,” he grumbled, and Moonstone bunted his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have a power bank in that bag,” Rafayel drawled, finishing off the bag of chips. “All these snacks and no power bank?”

“Alisaie has them,” he grumbled, all but hiding his face in his carbuncle. In response, Moonstone nuzzled at his hair.

Chidori took the bag of trail mix that Yusuke handed her, picking out more peanuts and raisins. “Couldn’t Futaba track Yusuke through his?”

Yusuke sighed and took the bag back, frowning for a moment at the amount of candy covered chocolate pieces left behind. “We asked her to remove her tracking software some time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean she did it,” Rafayel pointed out, absently accepting the bag of fruit snacks Alphinaud offered.

“Akira asked,” Yusuke said simply, as though that was that.

And it certainly seemed to be, as the group fell silent for several minutes after that.

Chidori opened her sketchbook again and resumed her sketching. Rafayel leaned against a wall and ate his fruit snacks. Alphinaud gave his phone a couple of shakes before he sighed and leaned more against Moonstone. Yusuke scooted closer to Alphinaud, though stayed on the other side of the carbuncle. There was a soft murmur from him, something about Alphinaud’s color choices on the portrait he’d done of his sister, and the Elezen brightened slightly and started excitedly chattering about blending and color mixing.

“But you have to be careful with reds,” Alphinaud said, and Yusuke nodded in deep understanding.

“Children’s hospitals.”

And then the power went out.

There was a shout of alarm from everyone in the main room, the only light for a split second being Futaba and Fuuka’s laptops, before everyone started pulling out their tomephones and linkpearls to serve as torches. Prince Xavier had apparently summoned a ball of light and directed it to hover in place over the rest of the Royal Family.

(Interesting little trick, Brigid thought to herself.)

Hien sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “As though we didn’t have enough trouble,” he grumbled, before stepping away to make more calls.

Futaba grumbled, typing harshly at her keyboard. “No…! I hadn’t finished the download yet!”

“I have a copy,” chirped a voice at Goro’s elbow, and he jerked back in shock. It was the small boy Sylus had been speaking to earlier.

“McDonald,” Goro grumbled, frowning deeply.

“Hello sir!” Angus McDonald greeted cheerfully, eyes only partially obscured by the various lights reflecting off his glasses. “I’m just a little boy, but I know I can help crack this case!” He held up a book, open to a page with a perfect recreation of the gallery’s floor plans.

Futaba narrowed her eyes at it, her own glasses reflecting light. Akira’s, curiously enough, did not. “That’s an Interceptor Book,” she groused. “Those are supposed to work on magical transmissions, not aethernet.”

“That’s not important right now,” Angus responded.

The singular light bulb above the four artists blinked out, leaving Moonstone as the only dim source of light.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Rafayel groaned, sounding one step away from going back to sprawling dramatically on his cardboard boxes.

Chidori sighed, closing her sketchbook again. At this rate, Junpei really was going to be convinced she was kidnapped.

“Such unfortunate timing,” Yusuke grumbled, mostly to himself.

Alphinaud had opened a codex and was trying to read it in the soft glow of his carbuncle, but quickly groaned in frustration and snapped it shut.

There was a beat before Rafayel grumbled something that the others couldn’t quite make out and a flame appeared in the palm of his hand. It was too small for the amount of light it cast, painting Rafayel in dramatic shadows and making him look like some angry god out of myth, but no one questioned it.

Princess Xiaoming stopped mid-sentence and turned towards a pair of double doors. “Starlight?” Prince Xavier asked, confusion in his quiet voice.

“What’s down those doors?” she asked, shaking her hand free of Zayne’s and pointing, drawing attention from the group at the table.

Angus walked over, studying his Interceptor Book. “Hallways and storage rooms, mostly.”

“What is it, kitten?” Sylus asked, drawing close to the princess.

“Rafayel just used his Evol,” Princess Xiaoming answered, just as quietly, but it rang through the room clear as day.

It took the Eorzeans and Hingans a moment to recognize the Yaxian term for magic, but once they did Junpei scrambled to his feet, quickly followed by Akira, Goro, Alisaie, Haru, Ann, Ryuji, Ryoji, and Minako. “Chidori might be with him! We need to go find them!”

Brigid quickly stood, lightly slapping her hands on the table to draw everyone’s attention. “Aye, we do, but we’re nay takin’ a large group. The Princess, Angus, and one person for each missin’ artist. Dinnae need to be slowin’ down the search.”

Goro held up a hand. “Forgive me, but permit me to accompany Akira. He’ll need an interpreter.”

Brigid smiled lightly and nodded. “Of course.” She made her way out from behind the table, joining the group that quickly formed around Princess Xiaoming. Junpei, Akira and Goro, Alisaie, and, after a quiet debate, the Royal Family selected Zayne to join them. Brigid came up at the back, summoning a small flame to her hand.

Angus hung back for just a moment, allowing Sylus to come up alongside him. “Just a little boy?” the older man drawled, glancing down at him. “Laying it on a bit thick, don’t you think?”

Angus looked back up at him, suddenly seeming much older than his apparent years would allow. “I work with idiots, sir,” he responded flatly.

Sylus chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

In the lights of multiple torches, both Sylus and Angus’s shadows nearly appeared to be… draconic?

And then Angus smiled, looking like an eleven year old again. “Well, I have to go now!” he chirped, and trotted off to join Princess Xiaoming at the front, who strode off without a word, hanfu fluttering dramatically, pushing open the double doors. The others followed like ducklings behind their mother.

“Bri does that sometimes,” Alphinaud murmured to Yusuke, as they watched Rafayel stalk around the room, holding the flame up to vents or dark spaces that looked even close to being an exit.

“The fire?” he murmured back, watching Chidori wordlessly move out of Rafayel's way, and then right back to where she had been after he passed by. Alphinaud nodded.

The group came to a fork in the path, and Princess Xiaoming looked down at Angus. Angus wordlessly pointed to the right, and the princess stalked off.

“That Angus McDonald?” Akira signed into Goro's hand, watching the small detective.

Goro nodded and signed back, “Self proclaimed greatest detective that he is.”

Akira laughed. “I doubt he's anywhere near as good as you are, Obsidian.” Goro made a pleased sound and squeezed his husband's hand. “Where did he come from, by the way?” Goro shrugged.

There was another fork and the princess turned left before Angus could offer an opinion. Her fingers lightly dragged along the left wall, brushing at door frames. Her fingers glowed lightly, brighter the further they went down the hall. Zayne was behind her and brushed a finger along her arm, silent support.

Rafayel paused in his restless pacing, looking at the door.

The princess paused at a door and glanced down at Angus. “What rooms are these?” she asked.

Angus furrowed his brow as he studied the Interceptor Book. “Mostly storage, maintenance needs and such.”

Goro leaned down and studied the book as well. “Restrooms are at the end of the hall as well.” Junpei made a strangled sound, but Alisaie grabbed his arm before he could run off half cocked.

Princess Xiaoming nodded and continued, much slower. One, two, three, four doors she passed, fingers glowing so bright that Brigid closed her hand around her flame, extinguishing it. The princess glanced at the elezen, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

It was the sixth door she paused at, nodding. “Here,” she whispered. Suddenly Akira pushed his way to the front and before anyone could protest, started tapping out a pattern on the door.

Yusuke's head snapped up at the sound and he scrambled for the door. “Darling!” he gasped, tapping out an answering pattern.

Goro stood next to Akira, nodding along and brushing a finger over his husband's shoulders as he nearly slumped against the door. “All four of them are inside,” he translated, “and unharmed.”

The tension that had grown over the course of the evening abruptly dissipated, like a collectively held breath.

“Except, perhaps, Rafayel’s ego,” Goro added, and the princess laughed hard enough she needed to lean against Zayne, who had his own small smile dancing across his face.

“I can hear you, cutie,” came through the door, and Princess Xiaoming only giggled in response.

“Chidori!” Finally Junpei pulled away from Alisaie, all but slamming himself against the door. “Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine, Junpei,” she said, voice flat as ever but it still made Junpei smile. “Now get away from the door so they can open it.”

Alisaie sighed and tugged at the back of Junpei’s shirt, and the man moved away easily. Akira held out a hand to Goro, and he slid a leather case into it. “Alphinaud.”

“…tell Grandfather I apologize, please.”

Alisaie scoffed. “Just Grandfather?”

A long pause. “Forgive me, Alisaie.”

She scoffed again as she moved to the side so Akira could kneel down at the lock. He pulled out a set of lockpick tools and Goro leaned over him with his tomephone light trained on the lock. “Tell me again when you’re out.”

Angus looked at Akira, and then back up at Goro. Goro raised an eyebrow, as though daring the smaller detective to comment. After a long moment Angus simply snapped the Interceptor Book shut and moved to the back of the group.

There was a click and Akira moved back as quickly as he could, out of the range of the door just as quickly swinging open. The four formerly trapped artists practically fell out of the storage room, nearly landing in a pile. Moonstone trotted out behind them, settling next to Alphinaud, who was at the bottom of the near pile.

Princess Xiaoming sighed and took Rafayel’s flame from him so the man could push himself up. “There you are,” she murmured, and then laughed brightly as he dragged her into a tight hug. “Acting like you haven’t seen me in eight hundred years,” she teased, standing on her toes.

“Jellyfish walkin’,” he muttered into her hair, inhaling deeply, scowling up at Zayne as the other man’s fingers curved around a wrist. “C’mon, doc,” he grumbled.

“It puts me at ease,” was the only thing Zayne said in reply, and Rafayel huffed but let the man take his pulse anyway.

Yusuke was clinging to Akira just as hard, but Akira had his face hidden in the barely taller man’s neck, a croaked “Sapphire…” falling from his lips.

“Oh, my love,” Yusuke breathed, fingers tangling in the frizzy mess of Akira’s hair. “You don’t have to force it.” He looked up at Goro, smiling at the man. “How are the others?”

Goro shrugged, looking away from the two. “Worried, but mostly for his sake.” He titled his head at Akira, who pulled back and gave Yusuke a wobbly grin.

Yusuke sighed and pressed a kiss to Akira’s temple. “Nothing to fear, I swear to you.”

Chidori found herself wondering when her husband became an octopus, the way it seemed like for every hand she loosened, two more tightened. “I’m fine, Junpei,” she said again, but she stroked up and down his back as he buried his face in her hair.

“You really scared me, you know,” he mumbled. “I thought—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “But it didn’t. I just got lost.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Alisaie helped Alphinaud up off the floor and shoved her tomephone in his face. “Call our bonus mother, she’s frantic,” she all but ordered, and Alphinaud’s eyes went wide.

“Lady Chai!” He scrambled to take Alisaie’s tomephone, nearly fumbling it twice, before moving to the side and sit against a wall, dragging Alisaie with him. “Our devices lost signal, and then all died, and you have the power banks!”

Alisaie hummed, settling down next to Alphinaud, and only when assured no one was paying them any mind did she drape her arm over his shoulders and lean against him. “Don’t do that again,” she grumbled.

“I don’t plan on it,” Alphinaud grumbled in return, going through his sister’s contact list and tilting his head against hers.

“What even happened?”

“Rafayel and I noticed a short in two of our lights,” he started, sighing. Then he gestured up at the lack of light. “Or what we thought was a short, at least. We decided to look for replacement lights instead of bothering anyone—”

“You decided,” Alisaie corrected.

“Yes, very well, I decided,” Alphinaud grumbled, rolling his eyes fondly. “And we bumped into Yusuke on the way. Chidori joined us halfway down the hall, she’d gotten lost on the way back.”

Alisaie turned and looked back at the door the four had just vacated, everyone standing well away from it as they had their reunions. “Were there lights in there?”

“No.”

“So you just—”

“—wasted three bells, yes.”

And in that moment, the lights came back up. A small cheer sounded from the group, and Rafayel took the princess’s hand that was holding his flame, lacing his fingers with hers. With a twist of his wrist he brought their palms together, extinguishing the flame, and he kissed the back of her hand. Alisaie could distantly hear Brigid explain that a short had been found in the crystal fuses which was affecting the lights, and she tugged at her brother’s arm. “Let’s go back to the others.”

Alphinaud nodded, his focus mostly on the tomephone in his hands. He stood and fell into step with the rest of the group, finally finding and selecting Dulia-Chai’s name.

He barely heard a ring before there was a sharp intake of breath. “Alisaie?”

“Forgive me, Lady Chai,” he said with a weak smile, wincing only a little when the woman nearly broke into sobs. “I’ll see you in the main gallery in just a few moments, I promise.”

He was glad Alisaie hadn’t clung to him like the others had to their artists; he knew he was in for one of Dulia-Chai’s back breaking hugs when she saw him. And really, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

“Hey, G’raha?” G’raha looked over at Connor, a piece of jerky hanging from his mouth, half forgotten. “Why don’t they want you fighting in the Tower?”

G’raha leaned back on his hands and looked up at the sky, mirroring Connor’s own posture. “I suppose I’m too important to risk, being the foremost expert on Allag in the expedition,” he said, the jerky still hanging from his mouth.

Connor grumbled to himself, a scowl crossing his face. “That’s why you should be fighting with us! You know what’s in there better than anyone else! Like that comment you made about Phlegethon not being Acheron.” He huffed and crossed his arms. “I’m half tempted to sneak you in with the next fight.”

The miqo’te laughed and seemed to suddenly remember his jerky, eating it quickly before replying. “It would be most appreciated, my friend, though I expect Rambroes might have a differing opinion.”

“Rambroes can deal,” Connor pouted, which only made G’raha laugh again. And as G’raha laughed, Connor’s pout slowly turned into a small smile.

“Why?!” Connor screamed, tears in his eyes, as he slammed his fists on doors that had just closed. That had just come between him and the best friend he had ever had. The first real friend he had ever had. “Why are ye daein’ thi’?!”

On the other side of the door, G’raha leaned against it, ears drooping and tail still. His eyes were cast to the ground, and though it was muffled, he could hear Connor’s screams. Screams for him, for him to explain himself. He could feel the thudding of Connor’s fists, and he flinched with each one.

“Because no one else can,” he whispered. “Please forgive me, my friend.”

“Hey… Exarch?”

It was awkward. Awkward in a way it had never been between them before. The two stood in the Ocular, two fulms apart and both of them stiff as boards. Neither of them looked at each other.

“You may call me G’raha,” he murmured, eyes fixed on some nondescript bit of crystal.

There was a moment of hesitation before Connor sighed, making his armor clink as it shifted. “Hey, G’raha?”

G’raha’s shoulders relaxed, just a little. “Yes, Connor?”

“Why? Why all of… this?” he gestured at the room, at G’raha himself.

Because your nephew asked me, and because it was the right thing to do, and because it was the only thing I could do for you all swam in his mind, but not a one of them fell from his mouth.

“Because nothing is more important than you, my friend,” he answered, the one from his heart.

There was another silence between them, only a little less awkward than earlier. And then Connor finally, finally looked at him. “I missed you.”

G’raha’s shoulders relaxed fully as he turned to look at Connor in return. “I missed you as well,” he breathed.

Chapter Text

The air in Sharlayan took on a decidedly more crisp feeling as the seasons turned, and the leaves turned alongside them. Slowly they began to fall, preparing for winter slumber.

“Sissy Ree! C’mon!”

Cred grabbed his sister’s hand and pulled her through the small copse of trees near the Studium, Ryne stumbling as she tried to keep up. At five years old Cred might be small, but he was fast, and Ryne was still quite a bit taller than him besides. Gaia walked behind them, hiding a laugh behind a hand.

“Ah—! A little slower Cred, please,” Ryne breathlessly asked, but she held onto his hand nonetheless.

Further behind Gaia walked Urianger, Thancred, and Brigid, the two men bracketing the woman between them, letting her hold on to their arms and lean on them as they walked. Brigid was well on the mend from the Final Days, but still needed a little support as her lungs lagged behind.

“He’s growin’ so fast,” she murmured, leaning her head on Urianger’s shoulder. He nodded, and she could see how his throat bobbed as he swallowed, knowing full well the emotions that welled up in his heart.

“They both are,” Thancred agreed, watching as Cred pulled Ryne into a pile of leaves, the two of them giggling as they fell. Brigid hummed and moved to lean against him instead, a silent support. The three of them watched as Gaia walked over, leaning over to get a better view.

Only for one of Ryne’s hands to shoot out, snatch one of Gaia’s wrists, and pull her into the leaves as well, an inelegant squawk coming from the other girl. Cred’s laughter only got louder, the boy almost leaping to wrap his arms around her in joy.

“Cred! Mind the horns!”

“Sorry Aia!”

The adults laughed, Urianger leaning over to rest his forehead on the crown of Brigid’s head. She bounced on her toes to press a kiss to his jaw, and then tugged at both of their hands as she leaned in the direction of a nearby bench. They easily took the hint and the three of them sat down, watching the young ones play.

Brigid hummed and leaned against Urianger again, closing her eyes. “‘Tis nice,” she whispered. “Bein’ just as ‘tis should be.”

“And… mayhap…” Urianger started, hesitance clear, “We shall be fortunate enough to see such a sight again.”

Thancred nodded, pressing a kiss to Brigid’s temple. “Mayhap,” he whispered against her.

She giggled, pulling both of their hands into her lap, fingers intertwined. “Mayhap.”

Chapter Text

Hilda had been right, once Brigid was more ambulatory they did release her to her husbands’ care, and Ameliance had browbeaten Fourchenault into letting the four of them stay in the Leveilleur guest house until they decided if they were going to return to Eorzea once she fully recovered. Neither Urianger nor Llewellyn wanted to risk putting Brigid through a teleport spell too soon, and a prolonged sail even less so.

While it wasn’t the intended master suite, the three of them had set up their bedroom in the room nearest the water, which had a large bay window and a window seat. More often than not, Brigid could be found curled up in it, covered in a blanket with one of the windows open, just enough to let the sound of the ocean in.

It was soothing, to hear the rush of the waves, even if they weren’t as close as she liked. She would close her eyes, head leaning against the window, and let herself relax fully into the sound. Hours could pass in such a way, and though the air was colder than her lungs preferred, she could feel the tightness in her back, shoulders, and even chest melt away.

Sometimes her beloveds would sit with her, or Cred would curl up in her arms and nap. It did her heart good, to know that even a small part of her son’s childhood would be spent hearing the ocean in his horns.

It did her heart even better when Urianger would sit on the other end of the window seat and read, the two of them sharing the sound of the waves. Or when Thancred curled up behind her, the two of them quietly talking and thinking of their separate but shared years in La Noscea.

While it saddened her that Hilda couldn’t visit often, being needed in Ishgard as she was (and oh, Aymeric did try to find ways to spare her, as often and as long as possible), it made the time she did manage to spend in Sharlayan all the sweeter. The window seat was wide enough to accommodate a Roegadyn, which meant it was wide enough for Brigid and Hilda to sit side by side, and so they did, with Hilda closer to the window.

They would snuggle under the blanket, or let Cred nap on them, or sometimes read together, but often Hilda would look out the window, and Brigid would watch her face as she listened to the waves for one of the first times in her life. To watch those crimson eyes go hazy as the sound lulled her almost to sleep, to feel Hilda relax against her, those were moments she would lock away in her heart, to treasure for the rest of her life.

As for Hilda? To see Brigid recover from that woman wheezing in the dark, to the woman who lit up at every crashing wave… that was something she would treasure for the rest of hers.

Chapter Text

“You let them censure me again,” Aurora growled, hands on her hips as she glared at Hades.

“And I was right to do so!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “You cannot keep gallivanting about in the way that you do!”

“Oh, I gallivant now! Not doing my duties as Azem, oh no! I gallivant!”

Hythlodaeus sat and watched the two people he loved most all but scream at each other. He sighed and resisted the urge to hide his face in his hands. While moments like this were growing less and less frequent, that did not mean they had ever stopped fighting like eternal foes. It was a minor miracle that they had come to tolerate each other as much as they had, really.

“Do not willfully misunderstand me! There are proper ways to do your duties, proper ways to behave, and you insist on doing the exact opposite!”

“The ‘proper’ ways?! If they really were ‘proper,’ then I would do it the ‘proper’ way!” She strode up to get within biting distance of Hades’s face, and he glared down his nose at her. “They aren’t.”

“I had not expected you to have such hubris!” he snarled, but he took a step back, and Hythlodaeus knew that was likely the incorrect move in that moment.

“I’m the one with hubris?!” Aurora nearly screeched. “My methods save people! I would think the great Emet-Selch would find that welcome!” Suddenly she smiled, thinly, almost like a threat display. “But then, I would think that the great Emet-Selch would want to support the person who supported him in gaining that title.”

And Aurora decided to make a worse move, okay. Hythlodaeus sighed, giving in to the urge to hide in his hands. He loved these two. Sometimes he had to remind himself of that fact, because they were also far too often incredibly dumb.

“Did you think that you would leverage our previous relationship—”

“I thought that you would support me against Lahabrea at least! He is constantly against me, and you encourage it!”

“Only when he’s right!”

“That’s enough,” Hythlodaeus finally said, quiet but firm, and it was enough to shock the two out of their argument. It was the tone of voice that reminded many of why he was the original choice for the seat of Emet-Selch. “If you wish to continue this fight, you may, but it will not be here, and I will not be your witness. Do with that what you will.”

And with that, he got up and left, closing the door quietly behind him. It was almost worse than slamming it. Leaving Hades and Aurora alone.

They were quiet a long minute.

“We’ve upset him,” Aurora said quietly.

“We did,” Hades agreed, just as quiet.

“Truce?” Aurora asked, holding out a hand.

Hades hummed, then took it. “Truce.” And then he sighed. “You go apologize first, I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“If you go first the next time.”

Hades squeezed her hand, gently. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

He should talk to her. It had been years at this point, that William had known Yugiri, worked with her, grown fond of her. He had been fond of her even when she wore her hood and mask, hid her Au Ra traits for fear of alarming others unused to them. He had grown fonder still when she unmasked, and heard her voice unimpeded by fabric.

She was beautiful, of course. Her scales had an iridescence to them that he could watch for bells, cataloging the rainbow shifts. Her hair looked like it would flow like water through his fingers, if he dared to reach out and touch. Her eyes… he shouldn’t have been surprised the first time he saw them and realized they were green. Like brand new spring leaves, light and comforting. But it wasn’t her beauty that attracted him.

It was her determination, to see her people safe, no matter what it took. It was her fondness towards her people, how she cared for them. Her loyalty, to both them and her lord Hien, when William met him. He was a worthy man, he judged, to have Yugiri’s loyalty. She was confident, even when perhaps she shouldn’t be. Yugiri was a steadfast woman, she demanded respect and William was all too happy to provide her with it.

He really should talk to her.

He did talk to her, it wasn’t as though he refused to have a conversation with her about various sundry things. Even if it was clear from first her voice, then her face, that his accent was so thick and dialect heavy that she understood one word in five, they had lovely conversations. About her people, about his, about patrols and how to improve matters. They were friendly, and he would even say they were quite friendly.

But he really needed to talk to her. About how he felt and find out how she felt as well, about what she wanted in her future, especially since Doma’s liberation and the return of Hien. And yet, he hesitated.

He didn’t know how to talk to her, not like that. But he wanted to figure it out. He at least wanted to try, to see if they were something that could work, or even see if it would be just a bit of fun.

He just. Didn’t know how.

Chapter Text

Arthur groaned, hiding his face in crossed arms perched on his desk. “I don’t want to,” he groaned.

Matsu sighed and, after a pause, patted Arthur’s head. “I know you don’t, dear,” he murmured. Arthur groaned, but leaned into Matsu’s touch. “Once you start, it’ll be over faster.”

“I don’t want to start at all,” he grumbled. “It’s math, it shouldn’t have essays!”

Another sigh from his boyfriend. It was a complaint he had heard many times before, and he was sure he would hear many times again, at least before Arthur cleared this class. “I know,” he said again, and chanced a scritch behind Arthur’s ear. The Hyur made a pleased sound and leaned further into his hand. “But you must.”

“Hate this,” he groaned.

“I hate it too.”

Chapter Text

Brigid looked up as she heard the Accord ringtone from her computer, and rolled her chair over to pick up. She smiled as she settled her headset into place, seeing Yuna’s profile picture. “Hello darlin’!”

“Brigid!” Brigid couldn’t help but smile, Yuna always sounded like it had been moons since the last time they talked, surprised and glad at the same time. “How are you?”

“I’m doin’ alreet,” she said, swapping programs and pulling up the folder she’d set aside for Yuna’s information. “How are you doin’?”

She sighed, and Brigid imagined her shoulders dropping, just a little. “Finally back from tour,” she said, sounding only a little tired. “Oh, but I shouldn’t complain,” she hastened to add. “It’s certainly nothing compared to the old pilgrimages, and I’m lucky to do this.”

“Oh, just ‘cause somethin’s bein’ easier dinnae mean isnae bein’ hard on you,” she reminded the other woman, digging into spreadsheets.

Another sigh came from Yuna. “You sound like Lulu,” she said quietly.

“Good, you should be listenin’ to us. How’s she and Wakka doin’, by the by?”

And she could perfectly imagine the way Yuna lit up just from the happy intake of breath. “Lulu started to show while I was gone!”

Brigid laughed brightly and got a sticky note and a pen. “Already? Goodness but she’s makin’ quick work of that wee babe.”

“Mm-hmm! Wakka’s doing as well as you’d expect though.”

“Losin’ his mind over everythin’ she’s doin’?” Work on baby blanket tonight, purple yarn was written down and stuck among the plethora of other sticky notes as she spoke.

“And then some,” Yuna said, fond but exasperated.

“They’re bein’ like that sometimes. How’s Tidus? Bet he’s bein’ glad you’re bein’ home.”

“And he’s glad you can actually pronounce his name,” came a grumble from the background, and Brigid was startled into another bright laugh.

“And hello to you too, lad,” she replied, shaking her head fondly. “That bad then?”

“Where did this ‘Tee-dus’ come from?!” There was a sound on the other end, like hitting fabric. “Geeze, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Yuna said, and Brigid was glad she didn’t sound like that shy little thing, scared of her own voice, that Brigid had met years ago.

“Dinnae you worry darlin’. I’m havin’ the coin from the fundraiser if you’re needin’ it transfered over.”

“Oh! Yes, thank you. And thank you again for doing this for us, we very much appreciate it.”

A few keystrokes and off the funds went. “Of course, ‘tis only right to be helpin’ out with Home however I can be. ‘Tis an important thing to you and your family.”

A delighted sound came from the other end, and Brigid smiled. “So much! I can’t wait to show Rikku!”

“You’ll have to be tellin’ me how she’s reactin’.” She scanned her eyes over a checklist, nodding to herself. “I’m bein’ nearly done takin’ the pattern for Lenne’s outfit, I’ll be sendin’ that back soon as I am.”

“Of course! Please, take your time! Oh! But I did want to ask you about something?”

“‘Course darlin’.”

“We’re already preparing for the next tour,” Yuna said, only a little regretful, and Brigid nodded, though the other woman couldn’t see. “And I was wondering if you would consider helping with a few of the costumes?”

Brigid hummed, running through her notes, her eyes trailing over the text on her screen. “How much time am I havin’? I’m still needin’ to get the twins’ débutante outfits finished, a dress for their mum, and if I’m rememberin’ right the Péngyǒu princess is wantin’ a dress too.” Not to mention whatever nonsense might crop up at the Opera House, she grumbled to herself.

“Oh! No, it won’t be for a few months yet!” Yuna frantically said, and Brigid could just picture her raising her hands and shaking them back and forth.

“Easy lass.”

“Sorry.” There was a pause, a murmur from Tidus, and Yuna let go of a breath. “Our main costumers won’t be taking measurements or ordering fabric samples for at least six months, and then I think the timeline is six months for making them?”

Brigid hummed again, taking a moment before nodding to herself. “I think I’ll be havin’ the time, but I’ll be givin’ you a firmer answer when ‘tis comin’ closer. ‘Least after I’m bein’ done with the twins.”

There was that pleased sound from Yuna again, and it still made Brigid smile. “Thank you so much! You do so much for us, and I’m not sure I could ever repay you.”

“‘Course I do darlin’,” Brigid said, starting a new document and an invoice just in case. “You’re bein’ one of me favorite clients, always doin’ right by me.”

Chapter Text

“Are you starting rumors about my sister again?” Arthur asked, crossing his arms as he stared the other man down.

Shida, forever undaunted by his friend’s moods, only smiled. “Whatever could you mean, my friend?” he asked, laughing softly as Arthur sat down next to him, Ame jumping into Arthur’s lap. Ah, how many times had their conversations started like this, Shida wondered to himself.

Arthur was still glaring at him, out the corner of an eye. “People are talking about her being with child again,” he grumbled, but nodded in thanks to the bartender handing him a cup of tea. Ame poked her head over the bar, sniffing at it. “Down, girl,” he murmured to her, lightly pressing her head back down. Ame made a displeased noise, but settled down.

“Oh,” Shida said, a note of surprise in his voice. “No, that one is certainly not me. It’s improper to speculate about such things. That one, I’m afraid, is coming from a different source.”

Arthur hummed softly, a considering noise as he drank his tea. “Hm. Any idea what that source is?”

“Have you considered asking your sister herself?” Shida asked in return, looking back to his harp. “Perhaps she has some news for you.”

Arthur glared again, long enough that Ame sat up and looked up at Shida as well, tiny Carbuncle eyes confused but wanting to participate anyway.

“Or perhaps not,” Shida conceded. “I would suggest starting in Sharlayan, of course, as she’s spent most of her recovery there. Perhaps someone was confused during her confinement?”

This time the other man frowned, looking down into his tea, and Ame turned to look up at him instead. “I dislike it when you’re the one talking sense.”

“Yes, yes, I know, that’s your job.” Shida looked back up with a large grin, which Arthur knew never portended anything good. “How did your conversation with your fowl friends go, again?”

“Oh belt up.”

Chapter Text

“Urianger,” Brigid whispered, and Urianger looked up at her with only slight concern. It wasn’t often that she called him by his actual name, usually using Fisí or some other affectionate term.

They had just settled Cred into bed, the young boy sleeping soundly after his mother finished singing to him, and were on the way to their own rest. “Yes, my desert rose?” he replied, putting his confusion to the side for now. If he took too long, it might worry her, even though she was well used to not only him, but several other members of their family taking time before responding.

“Can we be talkin’ a wee bit ‘fore bed? Nay anythin’ wrong,” she added hastily, a hand up, as if she could physically stave off worry. “Jus’ bein’ important.”

Urianger glanced over at Thancred, who smiled softly and nodded. It was enough for the Elezen, who gently took first Brigid’s hand, then Thancred’s. “Of course,” he murmured, smiling softly.

Brigid visibly relaxed, though she still looked somewhat nervous, and the three of them quickly made their way to what they had decided was their master suite, the big bay window still cracked open from Brigid’s earlier rest.

The three changed for bed silently, Urianger following Brigid and Thancred’s lead. The other two hummed as they finished, and once Urianger identified the tune, he joined in with them. They smiled when he did, though Brigid’s eyes didn’t lose that nervous pinch to them. Thancred slid his arm around her waist and settled his hand on her hip, squeezing it gently to lead the three of them to their bed, sitting on the edge.

Thancred behind Brigid, and Brigid facing Urianger. The three of them stared at each other for a long moment, tension growing. Urianger reached out for and took one of Brigid’s hands, Thancred absently taking the other, rubbing his thumb on the back.

Brigid relaxed just a bit more, though it was obvious she was still holding nerves in her spine. “We should have been discussin’ this ‘fore we were bondin’,” she murmured, and Thancred pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Slipped our minds, and then…” He trailed off, and they all knew what had followed quickly after.

“Then we shalt discuss it now,” Urianger encouraged, leaning in to press a kiss to Brigid’s temple. “What troubles thee?”

“What are you thinkin’ of havin’ more wee ones?” Brigid nearly spat out, as though she had been struggling to get it out of her mouth. In a rush, she added, “Thancred and I, we were talkin’ ‘bout it, back in Ala Mhigo—” And Thancred’s hand squeezed hers, just a little, “—And we were decidin’ aye, we should, but then… then you were happenin’, and Ryne, and — and I’d be understandin’ if nay—”

“Breathe, spitfite,” Thancred whispered into her hair. “There’s no rush.”

Brigid inhaled deeply, the tips of her ears turning red as she did.

Urianger smiled and gently slid his fingers under her chin, and it took only a little pressure for her to look back up at him, a wobbly smile on her lips. “I wouldst love naught more,” he murmured, and with that he kissed her, sweet and slow.

He could hear Thancred laugh, and Brigid moved back slightly as he hugged her against him. “I told you,” he whispered, nuzzling into her hair.

When Urianger pulled back Brigid looked slightly kiss drunk and mostly shocked, eyes wide and blinking up at him. “So easily?” she asked, voice quiet.

“Forsooth, I had hoped for additional children,” he murmured, reaching out and tugging her lightly, and Thancred easily let go so she could rest against her other husband. “As many as thou wert willing to bear.”

Brigid laughed and went fully limp against him, all her earlier nerves finally gone. “Bein’ so happy to be hearin’ that,” she said, nuzzling into his shoulder.

Thancred leaned over her and her husbands had their own kiss, and she melted further, enjoying the warmth of their embrace. “Obviously we won’t start trying tonight,” he said, laughing as he did. “But it’s wonderful to know we’re all on the same page.”

“Jus’ be ‘ware twins are bein’ a very real risk,” she teased, and Thancred pulled back, mock concern writ on his face.

“You didn’t give me that warning!”

“I wasnae thinkin’ ‘bout it then!”

And as his husband and wife playfully bickered, Urianger leaned his cheek on Brigid’s head, watching them quietly, a soft smile on his face. There was a bright future waiting for him, and he would welcome it happily.