#and Niflheim is sCrEwEd

[a-world-in-grey]

This is gonna be pretty much stream of consciousness because I Have An Idea But Words Are Hard. Anyway.

In Spark verse, if Ramuh is aware that the prophecy was irreversibly derailed because Ifrit happened, he might be willing to intervene more directly in the world. Not by showing up in his Astral form, oh no. But, more subtle stuff could be happening. (Let it be know that Astrals have a different definition of "subtle" than humans.)

Like say. Niflheim's initial invasion, the one right after the Wall got pulled in, getting completely wrecked by some storms.

Everyone thinks that it's just hurricane season starting early but still. The emperor can't just order another invasion right away, because they just lost a huge amount of resources with literally nothing to show for it. In fact, if Besithia's research was sufficiently derailed by Ardyn and Ifrit's escape, those were human soldiers and not MTs who died in the invasion. So the support for war is also low.

Anyway, this is where your post about Lucis-Galahd fealty comes in. Because this Galahd still has access to their copies of the treaty. And they are not above bringing out diplomatic guns to get some help from the Mainland. They don't think Mors will actually send soldiers but sending some financial and medical aid would be nice.

Mors' answer is Very Much Not Diplomatic.

In fact, it's pretty much just saying "you are on your own" but with fancy wording.

The Chiefs all look at each other, look at the treaty and shrug because it that's how Mors wants to do it then ok. Hard way it is. They send another message, this time stating that they consider Mors to be breaking the terms of the treaty that assured Galahd's conditional fealty to the King. (Copies of this message might be send to various regional governors of Lucis. And to Tenebrae. And to Altissia.)

And then they put stop to all export of Galahdian goods to Lucis. Because if we are not part of the kingdom anymore then all those trade agreements are not valid anymore, you know how it is, they say to all traders who complain. This all will have to be negotiated again.

Meanwhile nobles and commoners alike are side-eyeing Mors, because they might not care about some island savages but the price of chocolate just increased 10 times. And prices of spices, and of silk, and of gemstones, and of exotic hardwoods and...

(Basically Mors gets screwed over but Eos' equivalent of brexit)

Not sure if this is the direction I'll take this fic in, but I am always entertained by Mors getting screwed over by his own poor decisions. Now, if only more of his poor decisions affected him instead of everyone else that would be fantastic.

[andywinter16]

May I possibly ask for a Glauca kidnapping his s/o as a distraction, they’re apart of the royal family or a top glaive -someone important-. Maybe he’s having a hard time doing it.

Hello there anonie! Of course, you can! :)

--

Titus aka Glauca has got a very simple mission: kidnapp glaive Y/N Y/S, who where per chance HIS s/o. (But nobody knew that, obvi)

You, as Sigil bearer of Yore, possesed great danger to the Niflheim, because your sigils were boosting power of the Kingsglaive ( even though the sigils were "borrowed" from the old rulers. And you were the unfortunate soul, who was chosen "There are other plans with your fellow "comrades" the old rulers said)

even Verstael showed interest in you, thats what urged this mission (your powers could benefit his godly plan greatly and make their daemons even stronger)

I would be honest ... if you´re really important to him then he would be so conflicted in completing this mission and would try to somehow twist it in his favour.

Glauca/Titus is man of his words. He´s a double agent for Six´s sake, he better be good. He will devise plan in which he would kidnap you.

PLOT TWIST! He would fake your death, so not only Lucis lost valuable asset, but also Niflheim would be screwed. Verstael was in particular pissed, that he lost such interesting lab rat.

Meanwhile you, would be probably locked in Titus huge af mansion that was somewhere on Niflheim´s border.

YOU will be treated like a fucking royalty. He has two or three very loyal people, who takes care of this house. They would told you, that their master saved you and that you´re treated as their guest.

Just a .... when you find out that Titus is Glauca and viceversa .... oh boy, Titus is not prepared for that storm.

[savage-rhi]

Immortal Shield  Chapter 12: The Battle of Formouth

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**To read previous chapters, hit this link

Tagging: @seradyn​

Caelan let out a depressing sigh as she tucked her cell phone into the pocket of her pants. She had attempted to call Ardyn several times. Each time it went to voicemail. Though there was a trickle of worry Caelan had regarding him, she assumed Ardyn must’ve been asleep. Night was beginning to make its presence known in the Leide region as the colorful skies disappeared and made way for greys and blacks. Caelan assumed it was darker over in Duscae given the more forest and swamp terrain. She wasn't going to lie to herself, it did hurt not hearing his voice this evening. Her nerves were beginning to show. Ardyn's voice had grown to become a comfort for such emotions.

As Caelan pulled the Scepter over and got out past the Three Valleys, she could see several constellations as the moon began to take over for the sun. Caelan readied the camera that Florens had let her borrow for this mission, making sure the settings were night friendly. She didn’t want to risk screwing up the photoshoot while she had a rare chance to see what the Lucians at the stronghold were up to. Once complete, Caelan took in a deep breath and summoned Raksasha, making sure the blade would be ready to use if worse came to worse before willing the sword to disappear again. As the sword popped back into it's own dimension, Caelan's thoughts ventured to Ardyn. A part of her wondering if he was ignoring the calls on purpose.

"He's a grown man. If he had a problem with you, he'd straight up say something. It's Ardyn for crying out loud." Caelan said to herself, attempting to self soothe all the while subconsciously psyching herself up for what the night would entail as she went back to her vehicle and started the engine up.

Later on, Caelan parked the Scepter far away behind some trees in the desert off a dirt road path. She walked the rest of the way towards the ruins of the Norduscaen Blockade, where the Formouth Garrison didn’t lie too much further. It was a fifteen minute jog, and when she arrived at her destination, Caelan was surprised to see how the ex-Niflheim base was bustling with life. There were lights as far as the eye could see. Many Lucian troops lurked around the perimeter as well. They were armed to the teeth, and whatever was going on behind closed doors she couldn’t make out. Walls sealed away all of the bases secrets, and Caelan muttered a few curses knowing this wouldn’t be enough evidence to get anyone higher up to do anything.

Crouching down behind a hill, Caelan kept her stomach to the ground and crawled with the camera. Once she got to the top and felt safe, she rose the upper half of her body and snapped a few shots of the entry point. The camera was silent as the lens clattered away, and after she checked the screen to make sure she got a few clear shots, Caelan began to scout the entire area of the base.

It was hard to say how long Caelan traveled around the strongholds entirety, but she collected almost a hundred shots. The most damning of them all, she got from a high point of a rock formation after climbing it. The photo showed there were hundreds of refugees in brown garb, mining material and doing other kinds of hard labor in a courtyard. Nevertheless, it wasn’t absolute proof of something heinous. Caelan understood how her evidence could easily be spun as a Lucian prison for people that committed crimes. If the shoe were on the other foot, Caelan could see even herself falling for it. Her gut told her to press on. The stories Florens shared, and the local gossip Caelan had picked up on about the stronghold when she needed gas was enough to convince her something was amiss.

Caelan arrived back at the hill where she started snapping photos. Her mind debating with itself. She did tell both Ardyn and Florens she would only be there to get evidence, nothing more. As Caelan did another once over of what she had discovered, there was no way any of this would bring closure to the elderly woman she was helping. A sigh left Caelan as she argued with herself, looking over the hill to see Lucian troops coming and going from the bases checkpoint. The impulse to venture inside began to dominate whatever second guesses she could feel attempting to rise. Ardyn’s warnings for her not to do anything hasty ran rampant for a time, until Caelan all but silenced his voice.

“I’m sorry Ardyn,” Caelan muttered in resignation. Her eyes started to scan for someone she could easily dispatch and steal credentials from, eventually pinpointing a soldier who seemed new at their job. A faint smile crossed Caelan’s lips as she carefully snuck towards the base, and waited to strike.

An hour later, Caelan walked out with her new garb. The Lucian helmets these troops in particular wore hid the lower half of her face. To further obscure her identity, Caelan donned a few small braids to the right of her hair, each accompanied by gold clasps that ran through the strands. There was a sick feeling that twisted in Caelan’s gut, knowing she had no right to put on display she was an honorable member of the crownsguard in this fashion. It was despicable on her part, as bad as spilling another crownsguards guts. However, there was no time to beat herself up despite years of indoctrination telling her otherwise.

Caelan approached the entry gate into the Formouth. Two men and one woman approached her as she signaled the formal crownsguard salute. The woman looked to be a chief with the bright red ribbons intertwined in her own braid, a few ranks below a commander. Caelan could tell from her dark eyes alone she meant business.

“What entry are you from?” The woman asked.

“The Haraakis unit, chief.” Caelan answered swiftly as she handed over her security cards for verification. She thanked whatever was listening that there was no photo IDs needed for these clearances. Most Lucian prisons required such things. This planted some seeds of doubt in Caelan that perhaps there was nothing monstrous occurring after all.

“Funny, I don’t recall the base summoning anyone from Haraakis. They were strictly put on Insomnian grounds for city watch.” The chief said as a matter of fact.

“That’s true,” Caelan nodded, playing into the role further, her brain drudging up facts and core memories of crownsguard men and women her father had trained her to memorize as if her life depended on it. “I was sent specifically by lieutenant Amshel. He's retired but still holds grounds over my unit. There’s an Accordo official working alongside us wishing to know if a war criminal is being harbored here.”

The chief handed back Caelan her credentials and sighed. “These Accordo assholes, I swear this alliance is doing more harm than good.”

“Tell me about it. I have to work with them quite often.” Caelan huffed with amusement, catching a smile from chief.

“So Jericho, you’re a war veteran.” The chief pointed out, gesturing at the braids and gave a few nods of approval. “Same unit you fought with?”

“Yes ma’am.” Caelan responded. “I was in infantry with the Haraakis unit when Niflheim seized Insomnia.”

“You must’ve been pretty young to be dealing with such a mess.” The chief expressed her sympathy as Caelan nodded.

“Yes, but that’s what we’re trained for, right?”

“No doubt,” The chief nodded to the male troops alongside her to go notify the gatekeepers they needed to let folks into the base. “What’s the name of the criminal?”

Caelan felt herself freeze. Kurt's last name wasn’t ringing a bell. Her mind searched through her memories rapid fire, but alas couldn’t come up with the proper response. Not wanting to gain suspicion from the chief, Caelan cleared her throat.

“Unfortunately, I wasn’t given a last name. His first name is Kurt. He’s a refugee from Niflheim last I saw on record.”

“No worries, we can easily search the database once we are inside.” The chief motioned for Caelan to follow.

Caelan kept her eyes forward as she walked alongside the chief, minding to always be at least a step behind to show respect. There were several times Caelan wanted to look around when she heard the rumbling pulse of the doors begin to open, but she knew better. If at any point she started to show curiosity, it would jeopardize her disguise. She had to be simple minded.

Easier said than done once the ghastly moans and desperate pleas for help started to echo throughout her ears.

Caelan felt every hair on her body stand at attention when she saw the inside base. Wall to wall. Back to back. There were hundreds upon hundreds of humans crammed together like discarded things in the back of ones closet. There were some Lucian troops forcibly removing men from their posts, children being ripped away from each other, and women pleading to be set free only to meet the end of a fist or baton. Whatever was convenient for the guard on post.

Cells were overflowing with people in different conditions. Some skin and bone, and others barely holding onto the muscle and fat left on their bodies. The stench was the worst, and Caelan couldn’t help but grimace as bile, blood, and other grotesque bodily fluids carried through the atmosphere. The sounds never once died down, not even when the chief led Caelan to an elevator, the two venturing inside. The wails and cries carried on even as the elevator began its ascension.

“Where did you find all these people?” Caelan couldn’t help but ask once the doors closed.

“Anywhere we want,” The chief smirked. “Pay no mind. Most of these Nifs will be sent back home to where they belong. This is only temporary. The rest, well, they will have to endure servitude until we get orders that say otherwise. It’s only fair given what they’ve taken from us during the war.”

“Ah,” Caelan nodded, doing her best to keep her emotions in check. The impulse to reach over and choke out the chief was growing. “The lieutenant neglected to inform me if this was off the record or not. Could you confirm? Would hate to let slip something I’m not supposed to say to the higher ups when I return to Insomnia. For the sake of not getting you into trouble.”

“Of course,” The chief began, ever so cordial. “Yes, this place is off the books. As far as anyone else in the kingdom is concerned, the Formouth is a supply storage where we navigate the provisions for the Nif refugees that were displaced during the war and Dark Decade. The kings treasury sends a monthly stipend and we get the supplies needed to fulfill orders, then spend what’s left taking care of the rats you saw earlier.”

“Is the king aware of what’s happening?”

“No, and we intend to keep it that way. For the safety of his highness and all Lucians.” The chiefs tone held a threatening pitch to it that Caelan took heed of. She did her best to come off as submissive as to not draw suspicion.

Caelan’s act seemed to work as the chief eased up and returned a more neutral stance. While taking a moment to compose herself, Caelan swallowed as she could feel and hear the screams and cries outside of the elevator blend in with the ones that were resounding in her mind.

“That’s the last of them!” Tempus hollered to Julian. He stood by his commanders side, and awaited for further orders.

Julian Zamfir’s cold stare met with every single Niflheim citizen that was on their hands and knees before the Einherjar. He ignored their muffled cries, the pleads of men and women begging for their lives and or children to be spared. It was all mere static to him. Noise that needed to be cancelled out as he motioned with his head towards his right.

“Zamfir, come here.” Julian ordered, his voice carrying far and wide.

Caelan approached her father with her head high despite her face giving away she was beyond uncomfortable. As she passed the families that had been rounded up by the Einherjar, a woman grabbed a hold of her leg. Caelan gasped, looking down into the dark brown eyes of the girl who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than she.

“Please, you don’t have to do this! Please, we had no part in the war!”

“Shut up!” One of the female troops of the Einherjar screamed, gesturing for Caelan to move out of the way before kicking the young girl in the face.

The girl immediately dropped with a snap, her breathing ragged as she reached for her nose as blood pooled everywhere from her nostrils. The scene was horrific yet Caelan looked ahead, her gaze fixed on no one else but Julian who held disappointment on his strong features. It became obvious to Caelan the closer she got, that Julian didn’t approve of her looking the girl in the eye when she reached out for Caelan’s boot. Nevertheless, when Caelan was not more than a few feet away from him, Julian’s expression softened.

“Zamfir,” Julian began. “Select one Nif.”

“May I ask why--”

“I won’t say it again.” Julian uttered.

Caelan swallowed nervously, giving a firm nod. She could feel her heart pounding erratically against her ribcage, knowing there was something sinister about the ordeal as her eyes rapidly glanced across face after face. The crying never ceased.

When Caelan had been caught by Tempus and Rux assisting Niflheim children who were mourning the loss of their parents Julian had killed the night prior, she thought her leg nearly being snapped would be enough for disobeying. Now, it seemed that was but a bitter taste of what was to come.

Caelan knew on a gut level, no matter who she chose, something bad was going to happen. She had been through this time and time again. Julian had grown unpredictable since the fall of Insomnia. His horror knew no bounds as he ransacked and pillaged any who were associated with the empire. One wouldn’t think a man such as he would be capable of cruel acts by looks alone, and that was likely how he and the Einherjar managed to get away with the bloodshed for so long.

Caelan gestured an arm towards the girl that had her nose crushed in. Two members of the Einherjar dragged her away from the rest of the crowd. Without warning, Julian nodded to his troops and in a matter of seconds, guns went off and blades pierced flesh. Cries and screams carried off into the air, yet nothing would return the call nor come to save them. All Caelan could do was watch. Her body shuddered, eyes formed into a tight glare as she tried not to show any emotional attachment whatsoever, but alas tears fell as over time the cries became fewer and fewer and the rich copper scent of blood became faint as her nose adjusted to it.

Caelan was trying to process what the hell her mind had bore witness too, when she felt something heavy being shoved into her right hand. Looking down, she saw the gun in her hand. Her eyes meeting Julian’s as he pointed to the girl that had been saved from the carnage. The girls eyes squeezed shut as she let out bellowing cries.

“Show it mercy,” Julian commanded.

Caelan didn’t say a word as she, without emotion approached the girl from behind and pressed the tip of the gun to the back of the girls head. The crying became worse, and all Caelan wanted was for it to end. With a yell, Caelan raised the gun and fired off to the side, prompting the girl to take off sprinting as a last ditch effort to survive. She didn’t get far. Tempus having cleaved the girls back open with one of his ax’s he tossed. She fell like a rock into the mud. Movements ceasing.

“Leave us!” Julian shouted at the Einherjar, and like shadows the unit of fifty men and women dispersed and retreated away from the area, not bothering to pick up the slaughter they left behind.

“Again, you deliberately defied me!” Julian shouted as he approached Caelan. His eyes were seething with rage as she flinched, her head bowed down. “What is it with you helping the Nifs? You know what they’ve done, and what they’ve did to our home, Zamfir and yet you still hold a torch for animals?! What have I done wrong?”

“You said we were going to get justice for everyone. You promised!” Caelan retorted, feeling a burst of anger that had been long welled up inside herself breaking at the seams.

“And I delivered!” Julian yelled. “And yet, it seems that this isn’t good enough for you!”

“No, no you won’t use me as an excuse for why you’re doing--this!” Caelan gestured to the bodies around them, a few desperate final chokes and groans still permeated the area as she continued.

“You’re unhinged! It’s been three years since Insomnia fell and no amount of blood you spill can fill you up! Have you no shame? If this was truly about justice, we would’ve stayed in Insomnia and fought back! You were looking for an excuse to kill because you didn’t have the guts back home because the crownsguard, not the Einherjar, would’ve held you accountable!”

“You have no right to speak to me in that--!”

“Look at this! It’s madness!” Caelan interrupted with a scream, once more gesturing at the carnage. Her voice desperately trying to appeal to whatever bit of humanity resided in her father.

“Daylight has gone extinct since prince Noctis disappeared! The darkness is slowly consuming Eos, and all you continue to think about is killing imperials? We should be helping people and uniting, not rounding up humans and butchering them like cattle! Shame on your blood!”

“That blood is also yours!” Julian bellowed. “And you do well to know your place, daughter! If anyone is to blame, it’s you! Had you stayed by Aila and August’s side when I told you to--!”

“You can’t use me as an excuse!” Caelan screamed, repeating herself from before. “Killing Niflheim families won’t bring back the one you lost! Mom and August are dead! Get it through your fucking head! They’re dead! And they aren’t coming back! I’m still here, dad! I’m. Still. Here!”

Caelan felt her whole world turn black for a brief second. A searing pain encapsulated the entire left side of her skull as she flew back. Her body landing in the dirt a few feet away. She slowly began to rise the upper half of her body, her hands clamoring to the side of her face that was throbbing with a terrible ache. Caelan winced as Julian stepped forward, hovering above her as she could only stare in fright. She was met with silence and a wounded glare. The likes of which had goosebumps forming on her arms. Caelan couldn’t tell if Julian was going to kill her or not, and the odds were not looking in her favor.

“Burry the dead if you feel so inclined towards them,” Julian said firmly. His tone morose as he shook his head. The disappointment and dismay he had earlier returned. “This is the last time you disobey an order, Zamfir. If you pull another stunt like that in front of the Einherjar, I’ll put you in the ground myself. I'll treat you as I've treated them.”

Julian stepped over Caelan, departing to find the rest of his unit, not before he gave a chilling and final proclamation to Caelan.

“Don’t return to base until every body is covered.”

Caelan was beside herself. Alone, and with the dark enclosing the final rays of the sun, Caelan felt a sickening and horrible weight upon her shoulders as she looked at the masses. There had to have been over forty people dead. Her eyes meeting the lifeless orbs of the girl she had unintentionally condemned, Caelan started to sob and throw up.

“We’re here.” The chief’s words broke Caelan from her descent, eyes blinking as she took in a deep breath and followed the Lucian troop into the command center of the base.

Caelan nor the chief said a word to each other while the chief dug through the archives on a large screen that was built into an oversize table. Caelan glanced around, getting a feel for the layout of the room while her brain attempted to cease the memories that had decided now was a good time to awaken. The contempt she held towards the Lucian troops at this stronghold was continuously growing. Every ounce of willpower she had left went towards keeping her emotions in check. It was one of the hardest things Caelan had to do in a long time. She knew what was at stake though if she were to burst from rage.

“Found him,” The chief said not long after. “Looks like he’s in the lower level. I can have some troops fetch Kurt and provide you with an interrogation room. You’ll be granted privacy to carry on whatever orders Amshel requested.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Caelan said sincerely, trying to use flattery to cover the disgust she felt.

Twenty minutes later, Caelan was in a small interrogation room with an elderly man. He had been tossed right in front of her before the guards retreated out of the vicinity. Aching breaths left his body as Caelan knitted her brows, feeling pity towards the sorry condition he was in. If this was Kurt, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. His hair was matted and his long beard tied in knots. Purple blotches were scattered here and there over his body indicating he had been pushed around or even hit multiple times. The guards didn’t seem to bother making sure the upper half of his form was sheltered from the elements as goosebumps traversed over his naked skin.

Caelan looked around the room, checking for cameras or anything of the sort before she crouched down. The old man visibly jumped at her action, and Caelan was quick to gesture with a hand.

“I come in peace,” She murmured, trying to make her tone as gentle as possible. “Are you Kurt? Florens is looking for you. My name is Cael--Cahl. I’ve been looking for you.”

“W-what?” The older man coughed, clearing his throat as he forced himself to look up at Caelan. He was visibly startled, his voice pleading as he spoke up.

“Whatever it is, I know nothing. Be done with this and let me return to my cell.”

“No, no,” Caelan shook her head, minding her distance as she snapped her fingers to keep Kurt’s focus. He looked as if he was going to pass out at any second, too scared to carry on a conversation. “Is your name Kurt?”

“Yes, yes it is.” He nodded, his eyes squinted at Caelan. The rush of fear he had seconds ago seemed to calm. “You don’t look like them.”

“Pardon?” Caelan raised a brow.

“You don’t look like the typical guards here. Your eyes aren’t lifeless.” Kurt’s voice was numb, as if whatever gave him courage to rise everyday had been vanquished.

Caelan swallowed. “That’s because I’m not one. Your wife, Florens, do you remember her? She sent me to find you. She’s in Duscae, waiting for you to come home.”

The fear and uncertainty that consumed Kurt’s features, now gave way to wide eyes and awe. The beginning sparks of hope were starting to take root in his somber eyes. When Caelan spoke of Florens, it looked as if life was being breathed back into the decrepit old man.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Why would I?” Caelan shrugged. “I have no reason to fuck around like that. We don’t have much time. I have a plan to get you out. I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”

“Not like I am being given much choice,” Kurt murmured, letting out a sigh. He was contemplative for a long time, his exhausted mind trying to decipher if there was any deception. He quickly laid out the pros and cons. Either way, he felt that his life would be forfeit at this rate. If this woman didn't get him killed, he had a feeling come next week the guards would finally lay into him. They had upped the beatings, only doing that when they were set on getting rid of refugees to make room for more. Kurt witnessed it more than once during his year at Formouth.

“Can you help me up?” Kurt murmured with hesitation.

“No problem,” Caelan remarked, taking the old man’s hand into her own as she helped hoist Kurt onto his feet. Pained sounds fell from his mouth as Caelan muttered apologies here and there.

“Can you tell me how you met my wife? Is she safe? How did she even--” Kurt swallowed, trying to get his dry throat to clear as Caelan shook her head.

“I can explain later, but we gotta go. Stay behind me.” Caelan said firmly before she opened the door to the hallway. After checking the coast was clear, she motioned for Kurt to follow.

Caelan retraced her steps from where the guards and chief had led her to the interrogation rooms. Because she had to play her role to a T, Caelan neglected to take in some of the key areas. At the very least, she knew they were on the third level and needed to get to the second floor. From there, Caelan swore she saw an emergency exit flight of stairs. If they could take those down to the bottom, there might’ve been a way out besides heading to the entrance. As much as she wanted to take the camera out and look at the pictures she took of all corners of the facility to confirm, Caelan knew better. Time spent on such a tedious task would add more opportunity for them to get caught.

“This place is like a maze,” Kurt murmured. He was having difficulty understanding how vast the facility was. “Are you sure you know where to go, what’s the plan anyway?”

“Truth be told,” Caelan muttered back with a sigh.  “I’m making it up as I go.”

“Are you insane?!” Kurt exclaimed as Caelan turned around to shush him.

“You can yell at me later,” Caelan looked up, seeing a couple of Lucian troops coming their way. “Quick, I need you to put on an act with me. I’m going to grab your arms and fling you around a bit. I promise I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“Done.” Kurt said bluntly as he glanced from the corner of his eye and saw the men approaching.

Caelan, recalling her days of helping Julian arrest Niflheim citizens, easily pinned Kurt’s arms behind his back and began shoving him about. A few profanities slipped here and there. She went so far as to slap the old man upside the head, getting a yelp out of him to the amusement of the troops that walked by. They didn’t seem to have a care in the world with what was happening as they bounded around the corner, talking amongst themselves about happenings outside of work.

“Coast clear,” Caelan said firmly, letting go of Kurt as he winced. She furrowed her brows, remorse crossing her features as she looked him over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt you too bad did I?”

“Nothing I’m not used to,” Kurt sighed, rubbing at his wrists where Caelan had him pinned. There was a nervousness in his steps as he walked behind Caelan again. “You’re not one of them, but you sure know how to man handle another human being.”

“Former crownsguard,” Caelan responded, walking ahead and checking down a hallway before motioning for Kurt to follow. “All part of the training sad enough.”

“How long were you with them?” Kurt curiously asked.

“I started when I was 10. Joined ranks and a unit by the time I was 14. My dad was a commander, family tradition and all that.”

“So young, so damn young.” Kurt shook his head in disbelief. “In my country, kids weren’t allowed to go fight in their parents wars.”

“In Niflheim?” Caelan was taken back from the information as Kurt grunted.

“When you turn 18 within the empire, you have to dedicate a year to a service to help your country. Military is one path, but if you were academically inclined, there were other options. It was like that ever since I was a boy. After magitek troops became a thing, well, we had less children to bury during the war compared to Lucis.”

“Man,” Caelan shook her head as she mentally digested the information. “Over here its quite common to start training for crownsguard when you hit 14, if your family volunteers you for it. Then when you become fully initiated, you’re assigned to another part of the Lucian kingdom or you stay within Insomnia. You don’t know until graduation where you end up.”

“Quite archaic,” Kurt sighed sadly.

“Speak for yourself. Having zombies do the fighting for you wasn’t a wise choice in the grand scheme of things. Pretty grotesque and inhumane, especially after word got out how they were made.” Caelan mused, shaking her head as she recalled Kurt mentioning magitek troops.

The ghoulish creatures, once men, were hollow weapons that followed higher ups within Niflheim’s ranks. Even after all these years, Caelan still shuddered at the thought of them. Their unnatural movements nearly got her killed many times during the Dark Decade. Ardyn confessing to her during a camp out that he played a hand in their creation came to mind. She gave him hell for days over it.

“If you’re so critical of us Nifs, why are you helping me?” Kurt huffed, not taking too kindly to Caelan’s counter argument.

“Besides making a promise to your wife,” Caelan began. She paused for a moment, recalling the hollowed face of the Niflheim girl she had inadvertently killed. Her pulse began to rise, until images of Ardyn slowly began to trickle in. A sense of comfort washed over Caelan as she breathed, managing to keep the darker thoughts at bay.

“A good friend of mine is from your country. If he were in your shoes, there’s no way I’d leave him to rot here.” Caelan said honestly. “The war between Lucis and Niflheim was awful, but I don’t hold it against you or anyone from your home.”

“Did you lose many people because of us?” Kurt asked, his voice somber as he too recalled everything he had lost back home before arriving to Lucis.

“Yeah, more than I can count.” Caelan admitted sadly.  “It doesn’t matter though. The Dark Decade came and we all had to get along. We’re all human.”

“If only more Lucians like you thought that way,” Kurt murmured.

“Trust me, there’s more of us out there than the assholes in this hell pit. You were unlucky to get caught up in this--mess.” Caelan stated as a matter of fact.

Caelan let out a gasp, seeing another guard coming by. She quickly motioned for Kurt to put his hands behind his back, which he complied with. Grabbing onto his arms, she marched with him in tow. Kurt keeping his head low and murmuring pleads to not be hurt to further add to the deception. As the guard looked to his right at Caelan, observing what was going on, he squinted his eyes as if suspicious. Caelan merely saluted, to which the guard gave a nod and decided to be on his way.

The sigh of relief that escaped both Kurt and Caelan after the fact couldn’t have been more needed.

“Your friend from Niflheim,” Kurt continued while Caelan led him to an elevator. He got in quickly before another group of troops approached, the door closing behind them fast. “What part was he from?”

Caelan combed through the conversations she had with Ardyn regarding his time as chancellor. She had asked him lots of questions during their first month together. There was a lot of information about Niflheim he willingly gave, much to her surprise and sometimes irritation depending if Ardyn was attempting to drive her up a wall or not. It had her recalling a night Ardyn had her in hysterics.

“You’re lying!” Caelan said in between fits as Ardyn made a face, feigning he was hurt by Caelan’s accusation as he tried to contain his own bouts of laughter.

“I’m telling the truth, I had it made in Gralea!” Ardyn exaggerated. “I had a beautiful pent house where I could see the whole capital. Unfortunately, it came with a price. A VIP viewing of Verstael wiping his ass in his own home across from mine. The man loved to have his blinders open. Didn’t care if he scared off birds or children.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t become an alcoholic seeing that.” Caelan laughed, cringing at the vivid imagery Ardyn had planted in mind based on what she knew of Bethesia.

“Oh, but I did! A very expensive habit, I wouldn’t recommend it. My tastes in wine did spare me funds that would’ve gone to therapy, however. For which I'm grateful.” Ardyn’s sarcasm and the way he presented his stories of living within the high ranks of the empire had Caelan in hysterics. His own laughter not too far away from hers, catching up in between explanations and tall tales.

In the present, the memory had Caelan chuckle in the elevator, until she caught herself and relaxed for the time being.

“Gralea. He lived in the capital. He’s waiting back home with your wife for us to return. Maybe you two could talk.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Kurt nodded. A sigh of relief escaped his throat as he started to feel more at ease in Caelan’s presence. “Sounds like you hold him highly.”

“He’s not someone you can easily avoid,” Caelan joked, shaking her head with a slight huff.

Before Kurt could ask anything further, the elevator came to a halt. It began to shake from side to side. Both Caelan and Kurt braced themselves with what little they could hold onto. The inside of the elevator turned pitch black, the lights going off.

Kurt gasped. “D-do you think they know?”

“Shh,” Caelan whispered. “Don’t move, hold your ground.”

As quickly as it came, the lights on the elevator returned. With a final jolt that nearly had Caelan fall onto her knees, the elevator began to move once more. No warnings or alarms went off. There was no indication they were changing course. It seemed they were out of the woods. Caelan couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. She could feel a chill go down her arms when they reached the second floor, the elevator making a distinctive beep.

“Alright, let’s go.” Caelan motioned with her head at Kurt for him to follow as she hit a yellow button to the left for the doors to open.

Clicking sounds like a chorus of rocks being broken ignited the atmosphere causing Kurt and Caelan to cease their movements. There were at least forty gun barrels staring them down with a man or woman behind the triggers. An additional five showed up soon after, accompanied by the chief. The scornful glimmer in her eyes along with a signature smirk told Caelan one thing, and one thing only: they were caught.

[cyclonesyndicate]

You know how it is with spaghetti | Elegante 1.3 | Re: haters

Well, that wasn't the awed and reverent response that Elegante was hoping for. Niflheim tried, bless him, but everyone else? These people clearly don't understand greatness when they see it.

"A brawl? Hah! Don't make me laugh, you brainless underlings. Our sorry victim could not hope to last even a fraction of a second in a fight against yours truly! It is clear as the waters of Liguria that she took one look at the trap I had set for her, realised the dreadful futility of her situation, and dropped dead out of terror!"

"Of course, this was the true plan all along - whether it be the weight of a hundred pounds of metal or the weight of sheer hopelessness, no one can stand to the great Elegante's might, and be so bold as to think they would live to tell the tale! Even that rodent over there would be quivering in his little verdant boots should he even think of not presenting me my due reward! You absolute fools are just too dull to even comprehend my brilliance! Hahahah!!!"

That's all that needs to be said on that matter, clearly. That explained everything, right? Right. Nothing more is needed. Who's screwing himself over? Not this guy. He scoffs, and offers one more note in response to NULL.

"Hoh! Not to mention, you have clearly never experienced the sheer rush of adrenaline that comes with the creation of a truly peerless pasta dish! The kitchen will recover. Sometimes temporary sacrifices must be made in the name of genius."

[zer0pm]

Let's be honest here, the real reason Ardyn finally took the time to legitimately physically harm the Chocobros is because they killed his dog.

[noirbriar]

FFXV AU: The Place I’ll Return To Someday

Tenebrae falls and the Lucians retreat back to Insomnia.

An injured Nyx gets abducted by an unpredictable father and son and finds himself a safe place to grieve and to accept the past.

Or also known as how a Lion and his Cub got a Galahdian Coeurl to stay in their den.

A short fic for the The Lion, the Coeurl and the Cub AU

Remember the promise in Kitten Kisses? Here it is.

(Nyx is 20 and a not okay mess so OOC still sticking around here. More on Nyx, Galahd things and Cor’s background here too.)

——

The first thing Nyx feels when he comes to, is utter pain. His head feels like its cracked open by a behemoth and his bones heavy like the Meteor. Everything is a blur apart from two shadows hovering over his side.

“Dad, will Nyx be okay?” A tiny chirpy voice…Prompto?

“He’ll be kiddo. Nyx’s just high as a kite now. Let him rest. I’m going to check who are the idiots that discharged him and let the dumbass wander back on his own with a damn concussion.” Cor? Sounds like him…

“Call me if anything happens, yeah? I’m heading out now.”

“Alright! Have a good day at work, Dad.”

Good day for Leonis. Not so good for whoever he tears into later when the Marshal reaches the Citadel. He actually discharged himself, but the Marshal probably does not need to know that fact, Nyx thinks in his delirium before he blacks out once more.

——

“SELENA!”

Nyx wakes from the clawing grasp of his nightmares. The sounds of his sister’s screams, the voice of his mother and his dying comrades follow him into the waking world. Astrals, he feels like throwing up, but he holds the bile in his throat back. He hyperventilates in his panic with a rush of scattered thoughts, before a hand rests on his chest and his shoulder. A low voice telling him to breathe and anchors him back into reality with gentle words. When the buzz around his eyes clears and he is able to orientate himself with his surroundings once more as his breathes even out slowly.

A roomy bedroom, a warm table light, soft grey sheets with simple furniture. A threadbare Crownsguard hoodie on him with fresh bandages. The quiet of the night accompanied with a gentle low music on the stereo system is clearer now that he is focused.

This very much, NOT his dingy one room apartment in Little Galahd.

It takes him some time before a mug of water touches his hand does he register the warm body behind holding onto him. The young soldier turns and is met by familiar cerulean blue eyes.

“Cor?”

“Nyx.”

——

“Is that a Galahdian song?”

Nyx jumps back, and no, he will tell you he was not spooked, just, surprised. Though the frying pan that had dropped from his hand and into the sink might disagree. The Galahdian insisting on helping around or he will feel like an invalid and free loader without something to contribute in this house. He sees Cor standing by the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the fridge lazily in fresh Crownsguard fatigues.

“Fuck, make some noise why don’t you?” Nyx scowls at the older man. All while ignoring the injured muscle he pulled. Here is hoping that he did not rip the stitches. It would be a pain to get them done again considering how chaotic the military hospital is lately.

“Its my house, Ulric.” Cor walks closer and hovers over his shoulder, looking at the breakfast Nyx had made. The younger man had scrounged up well with whatever they had. Pancakes and some decently fresh salad he dug out. Some eggs and meat with rice in a yellow lunchbox for the boy to bring to school.

With the entire Citadel in a mess upon the King and Crown Prince’s return from an ambush, things have been too hectic. they got screwed over by Niflheim in Tenebrae. Fenestala Manor had fallen. The entire excursion was a bloody disaster. Just as he had rotated in for duty in Tenebrae, Niflheim sprung an attack and now the Oracle Queen is dead, Tenebrae in chaos, while they retreated back to Lucis.

Nyx suddenly finds himself living with the Leonis father and son. Ever since he was abducted by Cor from his own apartment in Little Galahd upon his return form that fuckfest of an assignment.

Last he checked the Marshal was on a classified mission. When did he get back? Also, how did the Marshal break into his building and get his delirious, drugged ass out out with little Prompto in tow? Heck, Libs lived right above him, along with other glaives in the same building, and his friend had heard nothing. The entire neighbourhood sleeping into the following morning without knowing he had been taken. They were trained Kingsglaives, damn it.

When asked, Cor Leonis casually shrugged and said that Prompto saw the news and was worried. Which really answered none of Nyx’s questions.

But then again, this was the Marshal, the Immortal Shogun, Lion of Lucis. One who commanded absolute respect even from the Glaives comprising of refugees. The Galahdian’s ego tries to find comfort with that reasoning to himself.

“I know Galahd has a lot of songs. That one sounded ceremonial. ” The Marshal pulls out a few mugs and prepped the tea for Nyx while he dug out his coffee. That meant Cor have back to back meetings again for today.

“It is, but more of my own Clan’s…each clan has their own songs. Not necessarily ceremonial. Our history as nomads who settled with the first residents of the Galahd Isles means there’s cross cultures at one point. This one is a little of both, and more like… a prayer? Not much meaning left in its words but it reflects our roots.”

“Ah.” Cor nods somewhat in understanding. “…Do you mind if I hear it again?”

Nyx is baffled but decides to indulge the older Leonis’ request without a thought. The Galahdian hums before starting to vocalise the lyrics, and in the second repeat he finds another voice humming along. Soon, he notices Cor trying to follow the Hymn of Old. Even though he stops and repeats some of the notes and vowels to the right pitch occasionally, by the third attempt, it sounded as tranquil and regal as it was meant to be.

“Did I butcher it?” Cor blinks after awhile when he notices how silent the younger man was being.

“N-no, I’m just surprised you could hold a note. You don’t …seem like the type?”

“Mother was a singer. So the habit rubbed off I guess.” The Marshal shrugs, handing Nyx his tea before sticking his head out to shout for his son to come on down. As if there was nothing unusual at all about holding a chord or two.

Nyx takes a sip of the drink just as Prompto thunders down the steps like the excited chocobo he is. The Leonis father and son settling down at the table with the Galahdian to partake in the morning meal together.

The tea tastes just like Selena’s.

——

With his injury and Lucis closing its borders due to the ambush, Nyx is placed on time off till the military medics clear him for light duty. Which makes Prompto happy since he adores spending time with the Galahdian.

The household starts early at 5am, due to military discipline, but Prompto is a morning child anyways. On certain days Cor brings him out for jogs as mornings are the only time for father and son to spend time. Prompto then heads to school after breakfast while Cor prepares for the day. Nyx’s meds knock him out usually, after either father or son makes sure he takes them, waking up later right before Prompto gets back with some groceries.

Prompto and Nyx will have dinner while watching silly cartoons or documentaries. Cor calls in later to check in, making sure everything is fine at home. The Marshal works late more often than not but he will try to make some days free to keep his son company. However, Prompto really is a fuss free child, does his homework and chores with equal diligence. The kind of kid every aunt in the neighbourhood will cry for, Nyx muses.

When Nyx is better, he brings Prompto around Little Galahd on weekends to show his kinsmen that he’s still around and kicking. Yes Libs, he is well, just living someplace for now. No Luche, not dead yet, so go away. Pelna is nice, he asks no questions. Just surprised Nyx seems better overall, healthier.

The blond child is loved by the community and the Glaives have practically adopted him as their own. Its general knowledge now that Nyx have taken in this ‘foster child’ he picked up as his own. Crowe, a new baby glaive training as a mage, adores Prompto, always showering the child with attention.

They would have a meal at Yamachang’s, Prompto watching balefully at Nyx if he tries to sneak a beer. Nyx swears he looks just like a tiny Marshal with that scrunched face of disappointment. Later they will pick up supper for Cor on the way home.

When Cor returns home, its usually to a quiet house, after Prompto has turned in for the night. The Galahdian re-heats the food and keeps the older man company over the dull droning of boring late night tv.

A normal life for some, but one that Nyx finds himself enjoying.

Its been awhile since he feels like he found someplace he could fit in.

——

Overtime, Nyx finds the nightmares have lessened though they still persist as he prepares to go back into guard duty. He is still unsure why he is still hanging around the Leonis’ but they have not chased him out yet. There is a strange greedy, self-indulgent part of him whispering he wants to stay, but Nyx stamps that irrational and selfish thought down each time.

When the nightmares do hit, he always wakes up to find Cor at his side, the older man’s ever protective presence a comfort.

“You will need a psyche evaluation if you want to stay in this line long, Nyx. Or find a healthier way of coping. As your senior, I’m saying this now.” The Marshal points out. He lets himself lean in his chair by the window after handing the Galahdian some water.

“I’m fine.” Nyx tells Cor stiffly, fiddling with the warm mug in his hands. “Don’t need it. Besides, its not in the required medical for Glaives.”

“What?” Cor stares at the young soldier hard. Before he cusses and mutters something awful under his breath. The sky is cloudless tonight, a waning moon hangs over Insomnia lighting the dark bedroom in silent vigil.

“Will you be against it if I get you one? I’m not forcing you, but I don’t want it to hinder you, Nyx.” Or get you killed, but it goes unsaid.

“Its fine- Just! Drop it. Cor.”

The older man pauses for a moment before adding softly, “We want you to come home safe.”

We. Us. Me and Prompto.

The younger man bites his tongue at that. It is the first time someone had bothered to ask him at all how he is doing, but he still has his pride. The feeling of someone letting him have a safe space to feel and process these dampened emotions is foreign and frightening. Even Libs cannot make him unravel with so little words.

The Galahadian clings to every pieces of himself and holds it tight, refusing to stop and let the feelings hit and crumble. He stubbornly remains silent as the dull ache throb inside, pins pricking in the corners of his eyes. Nothing but weak and useless, as he always had been. 4 years since he left Galahd, and he realises now he is a mess. Still is now.

The want to repay his debt to the King while fighting to reclaim Galahd feels more like an excuse for himself really. Last of the Old Blood and Ruling Clans and yet he had all but abandoned his homeland and his people. Under all his bravado and playing a hero, he hid a bloody coward who is unable to save anyone despite his best efforts. His family, his kin, his comrades. To the point he knows he is taunting even Death with every fight. He was an escapist, running away and leaving everything behind after he had lost everything. Why had he survived? Is this his punishment for…living?

He does not notice when had Cor moved to his side. Nyx only realises when the older man pulls the mug from his hands, and his nails digs into his palms. Cor then quietly holds the shoulders of Nyx’s hunched form that is trembling before breaking into hacking sobs as he began to grieve.

“We’re here.”

Nyx lets go.

——

Come morning, he finds Cor spooning at his back protectively. The happy voice of Prompto singing the chocobo cartoon jingle down the hall makes him warm.

After drifting for so long out in the dark, Nyx thinks he has found a safe haven at long last. Like crashing waves in a storm that have found shore to ebb and fade into stillness once more.

Later, Prompto stops at the door on his way out to school, watching Nyx putting the last of his embellishments in place. He then tugs at Nyx’s sleeve. His round periwinkle blues taking in Nyx in his full Kingsglaive uniform quietly.

“Nyx?”

“Yeah cub?” The Glahadian lowers himself and blinks at the blond child he had long thought as his own.

“You’ll...come back right?” Prompto chews his cheek, a habit Nyx knows that his dad has as well after living with them.”I’ll still see you later at home?”

‘You’ll return home to us?’ was what the child trying to ask.

Nyx grins

“Course I will, Prom.” He pats his blond mop of hair, “I’ll be back.”

Unbeknownst to them, Cor, who was observing the scene, smiles.

——

“You know, my mam would have liked you.” Nyx starts as he swings his kukri down, which gets deflected quickly by Kotetsu. The late summer breeze blowing across the open training hall makes his sweaty neck cool in a way he relishes. “Both of you. No nonsense. Just, bam. Get shit done. Always a stab first, talk later policy only.”

“Sounds like a charming lady.” Cor replies calmly, kicking Nyx away before lunging at the glaive. Although Nyx is faster and tries to hit his blindspot, which was easily remedied with his other katana.

“She was. ”Nyx warps away, allowing himself to reminisce as they traded blows. “Absolutely wicked with her kukris and sabres. Selena too. You know, most of us grew up as hunters but its the women who are leaders in Galahd, trained to be her protectors. And my Mam, Thana, and Selena were one of our fiercest.”

Somehow over the couple of weeks, Drautos was forced to get Kingsglaive new health and psyche checks. Ranted something about damn higher ups being an ass and not to ‘fuck around with the health and welfare of our good Lucian men and women’. Nyx instantly knows which ‘damn higher up’ that was. Hence this little ‘spar’.

Nyx is not mad, just, being stubborn. Which they both know.

Initially, he was not too keen about the idea but the entire division is suffering together with him so thats a plus. He is trying to feel less hard on himself. Though there are still bad days, but he finds them manageable now. The nightmares rarely come and even they do, Cor and Prompto are always there to guide him into the new day.

The two soon come to a halt once Nyx knows he is pushing his barely healed body to the limits, which Cor notices as well. They trudge to the side, basking in the twilight glow on the steps. The advantage of being a Marshal, nobody will come near and be a busybody while you are training. Unless they find themselves tired of living.

“They were warriors to the very end of our Rebellion. They…kept our tribe safe even though we lost. Did all they could to protect us. Reminded us that we were nomads, and home was not a place but where its people are. That we must survive, for we were the future of Galahd.” Nyx adds wistfully, feeling like a weight lifted. Lighter.

“May they find rest.” Cor gives his condolences as he listens quietly, allowing Nyx to immerse in the memories.

“Yeah.” Nyx tilts back and lies on the cool surface of the stone floor, watching the drifting clouds and distant birds flying high. The quiet of the world sinks in between the spaces as they remember all the things they had lost in the safety of each other’s company.

“Selena would have adored Prom. She loved cute things and Prom’s a cute kid. Take him around Galahd and her festivals. Show him every cranny of the Canyon and how to swim along the River flow.” Nyx smiles at the thought.

“One day. One day when you return, you can show me and Prom around your hometown.” Cor quietly tells the younger man. Nyx hears his words clearly. Not ‘if’,but a ‘when’.

The Galahdian turns his head slowly, staring at the man beside him that he had come to known.

“I will.”

Another day. Nyx is doing alright.

——

A slow day as things started to die down in the Citadel meant that Cor can leave on time. Nyx who is on light duty is able to knock off as well. They messaged the blond child who has a cellphone on him for emergencies, telling him to wait around the corner of the school. Sure enough, as the familiar silver car drives down to the tiny playground nearby, Prompto is more than delighted, jumping up from the swing as they picked him up. For once, they head out to a family restaurant together, just a quiet place that is hidden in their neighbourhood and enjoy being with one another.

Once Prompto had gone to bed for the night, Cor tosses the younger man a can of beer. Finally giving in to the whiny Galahdian’s incessant demands now that he is off medication. A decent night to drink out on the Leonis’ tiny porch, both having a rare day off the next day.

Cor decided to go shirtless that evening as he opens his own beer and drinks, unlike Nyx who chooses to forgo one mostly out of habit. They were soldiers anyway, and being body shy was not a thing. Yet, the sight of the man in the moonlight makes Nyx feel warmer as he chooses to take a swig of his own beverage quickly. The younger man will not deny that he found the Marshal handsome when they first met. Nyx had always been attracted to the Lucian’s raw allure under the stoic mien. However, the Galahdian will address this another time once he feels he is ready.

Nyx leans against the wall and looks around the house he has become familiar with over time. Two old, but exquisitely maintained katanas hangs on the widest wall with a crossbow on a rack. A re-printed photo of Selena and his Mam framed beautifully now sits together in a spot with other precious keepsakes and memories of Galahd. Courtesy of sweet Prompto.

There are many photos that adorn the living room of the Leonis household, as well as scribbles and art by the Leonis child. Others are photographs and snapshots of life as seen by the little one’s eyes.

However, the ones that intrigued him was a blurry black and white photo of a family in a forest. A father with two katanas by his side, a gentle mother with a crossbow, and a tiny boy with a massive long blade. Hunters.

There is one other clearer photo of the gentle mother sitting in a small garden, albeit looking older. A blond toddler in her lap, a baby Prompto. That brings a smile to the young man’s face. Although, Nyx finds it hard to look at the woman’s eyes despite his brain telling him not to be fucking stupid. Its just a damn photograph. Cor has similar eyes, but the lady held a gaze that felt bewitching and otherworldly to the Galahadian.

There is a certain power in this woman, Nyx Ulric thinks.

“Hate to disappoint. But neither of my parents are Astrals and no we did not have a blood pact with any of the Six. Though I’m pretty certain my mother is a Witch.” Cor leans back and remarks idly.

Nyx chokes mid-drink.

“Wait what..?”

“Nothing. Just a family joke.” The older soldier smirks.”Also, I know the shit the glaives and guards talk about me. I can tell you everything is false except for my challenge with Gilgamesh. Despite what Clarus or Regis might add behind my back.”

“I’m sure they are astounding stories.”Nyx gives a sharp grin, eager to hear more about the secretive Immortal’s past.It was rare that he would be so open. “So, how are they like, your folks?”

“My father was a hunter who worked as a liaison for Lucis and Meldacio. Mother was a singer turned housewife once the conflict with Niflheim escalated.”

The younger man, casts a weary glance at the photo,“That her?”

“That’s her. Reena Leonis. She died some years ago.”

“Sorry.” Nyx quickly mutters something else in galah like a prayer.

“No. Don’t be. She left in peace. Think she had missed my father too, after he got killed in crossfire with Niflheim protecting a village. We knew she didn’t have long but she,” Cor takes a moment, “She helped a lot as I was settling in as Marshal. Looked after Prom and made sure I was well and ready to raise a young child with the time she had.”

“She’s seems lovely.”

“Don’t let her face fool you. The woman was a menace to society.”

Nyx stares at Cor blankly.

“My mother was from the upper middle class. She found Insomnia boring so she forged some papers and ran away from home. Had roamed around Lucis while singing in bars.”

“That ain’t too bad-”

“There was once she had angered a daemon horde and hijacked a truck of some hunters. Who were trying to dick around with a group of Tonberries near Steyliff Grove for shits and giggles. Left them there while they to chase all her down to Lestallum. The truck, which belonged to my dad, got blown up by her as well. Took all their gil too. See? Menace.”

“…”

The Galahadian takes a second to process everything wrong with that revelation. Still waiting for Cor to tell him its all a joke.Though unfortunately, the Marshall does not joke.

Hang on. if he were to put mother and son in comparison side by side…

The younger man looks upwards to where Prompto is asleep upstairs, the only sane Leonis he thinks he knows. His eyes then dart back at the older man enjoying his beer. Nyx thinks his Mam and Selena are laughing at him with Etro in the Beyond.

What in the name of Ifrit’s ball sack did he get himself involved with?

Cor eyes his incredulous face and laughs loudly and free.

Later, as the buzz from the alcohol makes them pleasantly warm, Cor feels relaxed enough to indulge. He sings an old song from memory and Nyx lets himself ease into the words and the company of another.

The moon is beautiful tonight.

.

.

.

——

Extra:

Nyx: So, between you and Madam Leonis- Running away from home, forgery, abduction, trespassing, theft, traffic violations, possible vandalism plus borderline arson… And people think I’m bad for insubordination??

Cor:…Well, not really-

Nyx: Oh good.

Cor: I mean- not really it. The list actually is much longer if you want to put me and my mother together. And then some, if we add my father in as well.

Nyx: …W h a t?

——

Wouldn't it be nice

If we could walk together

Hand in hand, side by side

And I'd like to go

Back to your town

And to your home

Into your arms

-FFX Suteki Da Ne ( Pat McCarthy Lyrics / CinnamonPunch ver )

——

Song for this ficlet: FFX Feel / Hymn of Fayth , FFX Suteki Da Ne

[followthestars]

I ended up writing a snippet of Screw the Prophecy

-

Ardyn Izunia, formerly Ardyn Lucis Caelum, does not know what to make of the tiny prince staring up at him from the pod the scientists had put him in. Noctis Lucis Caelum, the 6 month old Prince of Lucis, kidnapped by a traitor in the citadel, was looking up at him with the sleepiest expression on a baby he’s seen. Looking up at The Accursed with a happy smile, reaching out with tiny little hands in a silent plea to be picked up. Babies normally know what he is and fear him, but this one… this one wants to be around him. This one has to know on some level what he is, but does not fear him. This little one accepts him.

Without even thinking, he opens the pod and lifts the infant up, holding the prince to his chest, seeing him cuddle closer and go right to sleep in his arms. He… he can’t leave this little one here, to be used as cloning material or turned into an MT. He turns his head when he hears someone enter, seeing an annoyed Besithia staring at him. “Chancellor, please stop tampering with my experiments.”

Little Noctis as an experiment makes him feel cold as he feels the scourge show itself from his eyes and mouth. “This one is no experiment.”

“It hasn’t gotten a code yet, but once it does, it’ll be used for the-“ The man freezes, feeling something wet drip from his mouth as he looks down. There in his chest, right through the heart, is a sword surrounded by red magic. Ardyn’s free hand grabs it.

“This little one, will not be used for anything by you or the empire.” The Accursed rips the blade free and returns it to his Armiger, turning on his heel and walking away. Well, if he’s gonna be a traitor to the empire due to this, might as well become one with some style.

With that thought, he heads off to start literally tear apart the labs, pausing for a moment when seeing a little blond baby to pick that one up to. He’s not really paying attention to his actions at this point, just letting his armiger tear through anything in the area that he vaguely recognizes as Empire. The blond baby is starting to cry so that’s a bit annoying. Oh, that man isn’t empire!

Ardyn turns around and returns to the shocked, most likely Lucian, man staring at him. “Have a baby.”

The blond infant is just placed in the other man’s arms and he’s off again to finish tearing apart the labs before making his way out of Niflheim. This country is too cold for a Lucian baby anyway. He’ll have to go somewhere nicer. Tenebrae is lovely this time of year, he’ll have to stop there. Though… what should he call Noctis for the time being as to not draw too much attention to himself?

He looks down at the still sleeping baby and for a moment the memory of seeing Somnus as an infant hits him. Well, for now, he’ll just call this baby Somnus until he gets a better idea for a name.

[secret-engima]

@hamelin-born

*kicks down door* Okay so I’m so sorry you’ve had a bad week, and since I am physically incapable of coming over and giving you a hug, I shall give you bby Dionysus being adorable with his (dead)relatives and Deleantur getting shipped by the local Galahdian bear woman instead!

...

     The man shrugged and played with the edge of his cloak, “You may call me Herodotus. Or,” he added when he saw Dionysus’s face screw up at the long name —so many of his dream relatives had such long names that were hard—, “you can just call me Wander.”

     “Wander?”

     The soft smile grew bigger, mischievous, “It’s a nickname. I’ve never really been the kind of person to stay in one place for very long. Will that suit, Little Traveller?”

     Dionysus mouthed the word, then nodded, “Wander.” He looked around them in curiosity, at the glowing flowers and living magic lights and trees bigger than buildings, “Where are we?”

     “One of my memories,” Wander answered as he leaned back against the tree trunk, “my … safe place I suppose. Though I have had many over the years, this one was my first, so I suppose it is my favorite.”

     “But where?” He’d never seen anything like this outside of storybooks. He wanted to go see it for himself when he woke up next.

     Wander shook his head and looked amused, “I’m sorry, Little Traveler, but this is not a place you can find on Eos.” Dionysus stared at him with big eyes and Wander leaned in with a whisper and a gesture at his cloak, “When I was younger, I met a wonderful group of people who liked to travel as much as I did, and they showed me many things. Some of those were places that you could not, and will never, find on any map of Eos.”

     Dionysus leaned closer, “Like the story of the magic rock that secretly led t’ the world of Hiso Hiso al’ens?”

     Wander’s eyes glittered and his magic that draped around them felt like delighted laughter, “Just like that, yes. But my doorway wasn’t a rock.”

     Dionysus looked all around in awe. He was in a secret world just like in the stories! Or the memory of a secret world anyway. He looked back over at Wander, “Did you fight an evil copy of your frien’? Did the copy try t’ de- delete the whole world ‘till you an’ Serah stopped it an’ saved all the Hiso Hiso?”

     Wander’s shoulders shook a little, then stilled, “No. Nothing quite so exciting. But I did meet a woman with cat ears and a tail, and we did become good friends.” Dionysus gasped in excitement, and when Wander stood up and held out his hand, Dionysus took it without hesitation, “Come on,” Wander chuckled, “I’m afraid I cannot show you any aliens or evil copies, but I can show you a few other places I’ve been that no one on Eos will find.”

     And he did. A few steps into the woods and the trees all turned to hills of sand and shimmering waves of sunny heat. Strange creatures with humps on their backs plodded slowly by in the distance, and in front of them was a tower that reached up to the sky all by itself. Wander told him that it was a dungeon, and that anyone who managed to reach the treasure at the very top would become a king and get magic of their very own. Dionysus asked him if he’d ever done it, if he had dungeon magic, but Wander shook his head and said he already had magic, so he’d let a friend take it instead. They plodded their way through a few shifting steps of sand and suddenly they were out of the hot sand and on an island in the sky. There was a strange ceiling high-high-high above their heads, and Wander told him that this was not one floating island, but a hundred of them all stacked on top of each other, each one just a bit smaller than the last so they didn’t block out all the sunlight for the levels below. Dragons swooped off in the distance, and when Wander led him to the edge and held him tight so he wouldn’t fall, Dionysus leaned over and saw nothing but thick clouds drifting below them.

     They stepped back and the world became an ocean. They stood on the wooden deck of a ship and around them was bright blue water and flapping sails and before them was some kind of creature so big it was an island, it’s long legs plodding slowly through the sea with trees and buildings on its back. Wander told him that talking animals lived on the back of the big creature, and that very few people could find the island unless they were born there because it was always moving. He led Dionysus below decks and then they were on an island with a tree growing in the middle that was so tall and so big it had another, much smaller island sitting in its branches. The air tingled with old-friendly-amused magic that felt like laughter and mysteries, and Wander told him that this was the island of fairies.

     He showed Dionysus a bunch of places, each one different and strange and amazing, each one with a little story to go with it that made Dionysus want desperately to know and explore more until the next one came and he wanted to see that one instead. Wander held his hand the whole time, steady and sure, making sure he never got lost or stepped too close to something dangerous. It was amazing and weird and exciting, and Dionysus decided he liked Wander a lot. Wander was different from the others, even Grandma Crepera. He didn’t seem to have any questions, and he didn’t mind answering all of Dionysus’s. He wasn’t grumpy, or loud, and there was … something about him. About his soft voice and the look in his eyes that reminded Dionysus of his dad.

... (And here’s Deleantur!)

     He sensed someone approach through the outskirts of the crowd. Not that it was easy to miss someone as big as Chief Ligeia considering she stood a head taller than most of the other people here. He tipped his chin to her in greeting as she came to a stop next to him, a mug of something that smelled like alcohol in one hand. She grinned at him, all teeth and good humor, “Going to just watch? Or are you going to go have some fun?”

     Deleantur shrugged and went back to crowd-watching, “I am having fun.” It wasn’t a lie, he found it both fascinating and entertaining to watch the party unfold before him. Galahdians weren’t all that different from the mainland in how they celebrated, but there were differences that were interesting to see. For one thing, there was a lot more dancing and singing. Even people taking a break at the makeshift feasting tables were all but dancing on the benches, feet tapping, heads bobbing- there was never a moment of stillness even from the groups lingering on the outskirts of the party to talk rather than dance.

     The dances themselves were a lot more vibrant and energetic too. There were no royal waltzes here, but circle dances that dragged everyone nearby into them, or spinning dances where partners traded off at dizzying speeds. There was also a vaguely alarming number of somersaults, backflips, and instances of people climbing up trees and rubble like squirrels to better perform an acrobatic flip in time to the music, and not just from the children and the teenagers. He half suspected that the only reason the Elders weren’t doing such stunts were because they were physically too old and arthritic to pull it off.

    Chief Ligeia scoffed, “Just watching is never fun. You should go out there and dance. Don’t want Stella to think you’re ignoring her, do you?”

     Deleantur blinked at her, then glanced into the crowd where Stella was currently spinning and flipping in time with her little brother Eventus like some kind of circus performance rather than a dance for a party, “She knows where to find me if she needs me.”

     Chief Ligeia slapped one of his shoulders hard enough that he had to bite back a hiss, “Not the point. You should be out there dancing with her. It’s good for young people like you two.” Deleantur gave her the flattest look he could manage and barely refrained from telling her that he was currently two thousand years removed from his date of birth —though that distance was technically in reverse—, even if he only looked to be twenty-six. But that wasn’t something he told anyone, especially not a party-happy stranger. Chief Ligeia rolled her eyes, utterly undisturbed by his look, and slapped his shoulder again in an effort to get him moving, “Go on.”

     Deleantur raised an eyebrow and didn’t budge, “Why do you care?”

     The Behemoth of a woman took a long drink from her mug, then answered blithely, “Because Candor is my second cousin and Stella is the best niece I ever had and I want her to be happy. You dancing with her will make her happy. So,” the woman moved with astonishing speed, so fast even Deleantur’s instincts and borrowed experience couldn’t stop her from bodily lifting him by the back of his tunic with one hand and all but toss him into the flow of the crowd, “go dance with her!” Deleantur staggered into the crowd, trying to catch his balance, then yelped as his hands were snatched up by a passing dancer and he was pulled into the flow.

... (and here, have a long snip of Buckler too)

     They camped on the nearest Haven for the night, and Axis cooked dinner without comment while Nox fussed over his uncle and the redhead just sighed and complained about losing his shirts. He listened to them bicker, watched the way their shoulders slowly relaxed the longer Axis went without recoiling from them or acting afraid, and came to a decision. It was a reckless one, a stupid one even but … but it felt like the right one. He hadn’t asked about what happened, or how Ardyn had magic, but he knew what he’d seen and so did they. He knew not just one, but two of their greatest secrets now —that Nox was a Lucis Caelum, that Ardyn was a Lucis Caelum and couldn’t die—.

     In the morning, before they could wander off into the wilderness again, Axis invited —ordered— them to come with him to Meldacio HQ. The two exchanged nervous glances before obediently following him on the trek up to the Vesperpool area.

     If his wife was surprised when Axis turned up a week later with not just Nox in tow, but Niflheim’s Chancellor, she didn’t show it. She just smiled and welcomed them into their tiny house with a gesture and a promise of dinner soon. Nox’s eyes were wide as they shuffled in and Axis had known Ardyn long enough to spot the nervous edge in his sweeping bow.

     Both of them went totally still when they spotted the playpen taking up most of the living room floor, filled with ratty stuffed toys that Axis had either purchased from Outposts or had been gifted by members of his, Tredd’s, and Luche’s Clans. Inside the playpen, Axis’s triplets —his treasures, his children, his greatest and most precious secrets— cooed and babbled eagerly at Axis, waving their hands and crawling around. His last visit hadn’t been that long ago, and they remembered him —the fact that he had been gone for long enough stretches when they were smaller that he’d been a stranger to them would always hurt—. Venia, his smallest and boldest, spotted Nox and Ardyn and babbled at them, fearlessly crawling up to the edge of the playpen to look at them. Axis reached in and picked her up, kissing her forehead and tickling her stomach with a hand to hear her laugh before turning to watch Nox’s and Ardyn’s reactions.

     Nox was still staring at Historia and Spiritus in the playpen, a bright-eyed look on his face and a shiver of power in the air that felt protective. He looked at them like any of Axis’s remaining clan did, or how Tredd and Luche had first looked at them. Awe and protectiveness and already blooming adoration. Axis glanced at Ardyn.

     Ardyn was staring at Venia, and the look on his face took Axis’s breath away. There was pure, open adoration there, wonder and a bright-edged fear, like just being near her would be enough to break her. Venia spotted Ardyn staring, dressed in all his clashing layers and colors, and giggled at him. She had never been afraid of strangers, and she didn’t hesitate to flail her hands in his direction, babbling with all the energy of a healthy nine month old. Ardyn flinched faintly away, even though her hands were nowhere near him, his own hands curling shyly inside his long sleeves like he was terrified of touching her.

     Something in Axis’s heart broke a little.

     No one as unexpectedly kind as Ardyn should fear being near a child.

     “Her name is Venia,” Axis murmured, “that’s her sister Historia, and her brother Spiritus.”

     “They’re so little.” Nox cooed as he crouched just outside the playpen, watching the two babies who stared back with far less fearless curiosity than their sister had —but not outright fear, Axis wondered if they too could feel Nox’s magic swelling around the room, rumbling with protective and already loving emotions—. Porrima reappeared at Axis’s elbow, reaching past him to pluck Spiritus out of the playpen. She gave their guests a considering look, then calmly reached out and plopped their son into Nox’s arms. Nox’s grip tensed, but his arms shifted into a proper position with a speed that looked instinctive, “Hey, wait-!”

     Porrima ignored Nox’s breathless squawk and Spiritus’s wary coo, just picked up Historia and turned to face Ardyn, who had gone stiff as a board and deathly white, “Madam,” Ardyn said tensely, “I don’t think-.”

     “Are you going to hurt them?” Porrima asked.

     Ardyn’s jaw tightened, “Never, but I don’t-.”

     “Are your arms so weak you’ll drop her?”

     “No, but-.”

     “Are you sick?”

     Ardyn shook his head but kept shying subtly back, “I-.”

     Axis sighed at his wife as she exchanged Historia for Venia, then turned and fearlessly stepped into Ardyn’s space to put their boldest daughter in the arms of Niflheim’s Chancellor —and the king’s unknown relative—. Ardyn went stone still as soon as Venia was in his arms, hands cradling her like she was fragile as glass and his eyes huge. Axis bounced Historia in his arms a little as he scolded, “Porrima. Don’t force them to hold the children if they don’t want to.”

     “But they do want to, and it’s good for the triplets to meet new safe people,” his wife sniffed back. Then she flitted back to the kitchen without waiting to see the fallout of her actions.

     Sometimes his wife trusted his judgement and choice of houseguests a little too much.

     Axis sidled closer to Ardyn and held out an arm, “I can take her back if this really makes you uncomfortable.”

     Ardyn stared down at Venia with the roundest eyes Axis had ever seen. Venia blinked up at her new handler, looked over at her dad, then looked back at Ardyn and clumsily patted his cheek, grabbing curiously at his red-violet hair a moment later. Ardyn inhaled, and Axis felt a second magic flood the room, old and powerful and monstrously protective. Where Nox’s was deep like the ocean, powerful but … subtle, like currents under the surface, Ardyn’s magic felt wild. It felt like the ripple of spotted fur in the jungle, the glimpse of fangs and teeth of a feral beast. Nox’s protective adoration of the little boy he was bouncing in his arms was like the pull of the tide, sweeping in and out with each breath, but Ardyn’s-. Ardyn’s was the rumble of a Coeurl’s purr as it curled around its cub, the singing edge of bloody steel, promising death to anyone that so much as looked wrong at Axis’s triplets.

     Ardyn very slowly sank down onto the floor, legs crossed to form a lap for Venia to flop on, and when he looked up at Axis, his normally blue eyes were a brilliant, Coeurl gold, “They’re beautiful.” He whispered hoarsely.

[jollyinha]

Can I just say that I'm so proud how far NNT has come with the Shall We Date series and with Obey Me?

If you ever played the older Shall We Date games, you will know what I'm talking about. They all had the same boring and slow system, the same chaotic interface (Heck, they even had similar characters)... And there weren't that many people who knew about them (at least in the western side of the world, idk about Japan). I remember that I used to play Blood N' Roses and Niflheim, and I never got too excited about them. These games... Weren't that big of a deal. Not even talking that more about a lack of a western fandom, it's more of a quality-based point of view.

Ngl tho, I liked Niflheim........ R.I.P. Deceased, but never forgotten

But Obey Me??????

It's like they went "Let's pick the best pieces of all of our games, put them together... And put 100% more effort, make it fucking awesome and this time it will be a bomb."

Seriously tho if you have played the older SWD games you can find so many similarities, it's really like they fused all of their previous games to create Obey Me lololol But anyway back to the point

They REALLY stepped up their game with OM. A very improved version of the super boring battle system they've always used. The gacha cards system (which is smth popular these days, so it was a smart move of them). Character animation. Awesome voice actors. Chats and calls system. More ways of gaining energy and power than in the other games. Charismatic non-romanceable characters (that actually make a difference in the plot!). Better user interface. Good dynamics between the romanceable characters. And last, but not least... The freaking opening. Super well animated, and Sinful Indulgence is UTTER AND PURE FIRE. We don't deserve Miura Ayme. What a king. And apparently we will be getting more character songs soon too, so hell yeah!

What. A. Glow. Up. And that glow up paid off! OM got a solid fandom in the west. 140k views on Arcadia in a little more than a week. Two million downloads in less than a year (quarantine did helped with that but screw it, they deserve it regardless). 500k streams in Sinful Indulgence on Spotify, and 500k views on YouTube too, also in less than a year. Just so you have an idea, Wizardess Heart's trailer got 322k in a span of five years. Ninja Shadow's trailer got 62k in four years.

And the fact that they launched the fiasco that was Story Jar a month before Obey Me was released makes all that I mentioned even more impressive. Oh yeah, and there was....... Whatever the heck Moe Ninja Girls was about

TL;DR: Obey Me really shows how much NNT has evolved by being superior to its other releases in many, many ways, and I'm proud that their hard work on this game has paid off <3

[alyss-spazz-penedo]

Okay, so so, basic cliffnotes for that Magi-FFXV fusion I mentioned @secret-engima: 

Daemons are Not A Thing, and neither is the Crystal. All Astrals are basically djinn while Oracles are Magi equivalents and able to choose King candidates by offering them the Covenant of an Astral. If the person passes a test of the Astral’s choosing, then the Covenant is forged and the Astral’s powers are now at the beck and call of the King candidate.

Now, unlike the Magi, the Oracles can only offer the Astrals that they’ve previously performed a Rite with. While Magi can pull up any old Dungeon they please, Oracles need to establish a link to an Astral before they can bring a potential King to said Astral’s attention; if the King gains the Covenant, then the link to the Astral’s power goes to straight that King until the King dies, after which the power either goes back to the Oracle who performed the Rite or, if the Oracle is dead too, goes up for grabs to whichever Oracle next locates the Astral and sings it into submission (ie. performs a Rite again. The singing is really hard for Astrals to ignore, which is how Oracles past have managed to establish a link to even the finicky astrals. Which, for the record, is ALL SIX of the major ones. Minor ones like Carbuncle are more tractable.)

So, to give a hypothetical example: Let’s say Sylvia inherited Bahumut’s Rite from her mother, which is a thing she can do since they were both Oracles and Rites can be passed from Oracle to Oracle. Holding the Rite means she can beg Bahamut for power nicely and Bahamut might choose to answer if he’s in a good mood. Holding the Rite also means she can tell Regis that Bahamut says to go master 12 different weapons if he wants access to the Astral’s power. So lets say Regis does that, and masters the Sword of the Father too just because, and then Bahamut is forced to agree that Regis passes and so a Covenant is forged. 

Holding this Covenant makes Bahamut Regis’ lil bitch, and gives Regis access to all sorts of nifty hard-light powers that he can use to form those 13 weapons or, say, slap a ginormous Wall around his lands to keep Nifs out—and Bahamut can’t do a thing to stop him except complain whenever Regis deigns to pay him attention. However, Regis isn’t able to pass on the Covenant to whoever he pleases (or else Mors would’ve given it to Regis when the man was still alive; Bahamut has traditionally always gone to the Lucian King), and Sylvia (who would now no longer be able to even ask Bahamut for power) can’t offer Bahamut’s Covenant to someone else while Regis still lives, though she can still pass on the Rite if she wants. So basicaally Bahumut would be with Regis til the man dies. (Household Vessels are still a thing though, so the Retinue still gets to play a bit with their own hard-light powers. Just. Endless bullets, blades and shields and polearms of all kinds. Cid likes to make tools, though the bolts and screws don’t really last long enough for his liking.)

Now then, if Reggie boy were to die, Bahamut’s power would go back to the Oracle that handed it out, ie. Sylvia. However, if Sylvia were to happen to have previously died in an unfortunate invasion attempt by Nifliheim forces before she could pass on Bahamut’s Rite to bby Oracle Luna, then Bahamut is free in the wind till the next irresistably-singing human finds him. In fact, EVERY Rite Sylvia hadn’t yet passed on would die with her, and Lunafreya would be doomed to living under Nif rule as an Oracle with no real power to offer. If she wants to be able to forge Covenants for any major Astrals she’s gonna need to track those Astrals down herself and sing them into submission. 

Some of them, like Shiva, will make it easy and just come to her directly and teach her how to perform Rites instead of merely receiving them from her mother. Others, like Ramuh and Leviathan, will immediately faff off wherever they like and, if they’re not careful, run the risk of being seduced by Oracles not as... polite as those of the Tenebrean royal line. Of which there is basically just the one.

(Did I say hypothetical I meant Actually Happened in this fusion)

Oh also the Astrals like to whisper about there being this ~2000yo prophecy that someday a King candidate will arise that will unite all of Eos under one king—a King of Kings, if you will. Three guesses who they’re talking about.

There’s also one wandering Lord Ardyn in play, infamously known as either the Mad Oracle or the Immortal Accursed, who’s been kicking around for longer than anyone can recall and who’s every chosen King candidate (few as those are) has inevitably risen to incredible glory followed swiftly by a widespread, ghastly fall to ruin. (Solheim was his first stain on history; Niflheim is his latest.)

P.S. also very important: Noct's very first Astral Covenant was at nine years old, when he caught Carbuncle in a dream.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Small Time Witch (14)

Yours and Steve’s relationship was blissfully uncomplicated. You actually had a lot in common as far as movies and music you both enjoyed. You liked a lot of the same foods but he was also adventurous when it came to trying things. You loved all of his friends of course so it was never an issue when he wanted to hang out with them. You had your own relationships with each of them. It was especially a relief to Steve when you and Bucky bonded. He often found you two passed out on the couch surrounded by junk food wrappers. He secretly loved your relationship with Bucky.

It was a little contentious at first. He didn’t enjoy the fact that you wore the bracelet Loki gave you all the damn time. But he was gone so he got over it. Tony suggested he buy you something you wouldn’t take off. Being ever practical he bought you a watch for your birthday. The face of the watch was the same shade of blue as his eyes. This is very possibly the most expensive thing Steve had ever purchased. It was well worth it when your face lit up when you opened the box. You wore it every day.

You were a little jealous of his relationship with Sharon. She was his last link to Peggy. Of course you understood his reasoning for keeping her in his life. It didn’t mean she had to be invited to every event. He also wasn’t in charge of entertaining her either. Once you introduced her to Agent Gregory she was no longer an issue.

You fell into an easy routine where you worked and he worked. You ate dinner together. You went on dates. You spent time with friends. You were both very happy.

He said he loved you for the first time when he came home from a particularly long mission in Prague. The team got back very late and you were already asleep. Everyone was exhausted and retreated to their rooms. Steve’s room had a large window that bathed the entire place in silvery blue light. He normally had the blackout curtains drawn but you liked the windows open.

You had kicked off the blanket at some point leaving your body exposed to the moonlight. His heart melted when he saw you sleeping so peacefully. He noticed your wrist was also naked. The bracelet and a screwdriver were sitting on the bedside table. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

He stripped down and crawled into bed. When you felt the mattress sag under his weight you rolled over to snuggle up to him. “Sorry I woke you.”

“S’okay, baby. Everyone make it back ok?”

“Yep. All good.” He rubbed your back and stared at your wrist. He didn’t want to bring it up. Taking it off had to be up to you. As long as you had it on there was always something in the air that he couldn’t quite figure out. Now that it was off it was like a fog was lifted. You felt more like his than ever before.

Without thinking he rolled you to your back and situated himself between your legs. “May I help you, Sir?” You smiled and ran your hands through his chest hair. He did not look like he was in a very playful mood. He bent down to kiss you. This one felt different than any other kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made your heart beat faster and your whole body feel warm.

“What was that?

“What do you mean?”

“That felt different.” He was quietly studying your face. He noticed every freckle every line every highlight and shadow. For the first time he realized your upper lip line was a little crooked and you had a faded scar on your forehead. He traced over it with his fingertip. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch and your lips parted sightly.

“I love you” he whispered. His eyes were still roaming your face like he was seeing it for the first time.

“What did you say?” You were in shock.

“I said I love you.” You weren’t sure if you were physically capable of saying it back. He looked at you anticipating your words.

“I love you too.” He kissed you again. Each touch was gentle every movement felt new. Sex any other time was explosive but a means to and end for sure. The way he was touching you now was foreign to him. It felt special. He had never been with anyone like this before and will never be again.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

It was a few months since you last heard from Loki. He never said he would keep in touch. Somehow, it always felt like he was around. The only people you could talk to about this were Thor and Wanda.

Wanda felt like you just missed him and wearing the bracelet (which was basically a handcuff) kept him around. “I’m sure the spell wasn’t just to protect the metal from the elements. He wants you to be able to feel him. He is a wedge in your relationship with Steve. You have to take it off to break the bond.”

That was all very true. Thor was a bit more practical. “If he’s back on Asgard he is no doubt asking Heimdall to watch you. If he’s still here on Midgard he probably is always around. He’s a shapeshifter. Weird black cat following you home? Probably Loki. Gnarled tree outside of your window? Probably Loki. I’d be surprised if he didn’t glamour your make up mirror so that he could see you anytime you used it. If I know my brother he probably linked himself to that bracelet. Take it off and he’ll magically be gone.”

All of this was likely true as well. The bracelet started feeling heavy on your wrist. The longer Steve was away the more aware you were that it was hanging there. By the tenth night you were alone in your bed you decided to have a chat with Loki. You weren’t sure he could hear you. He said if you needed him he would know. So you spoke out loud feeling less than confident. “Lok, I don’t know if you can hear me but, I have to take this off for a little while. I miss you so much but I have to move on.”

You grabbed the screw driver and fit it into the groove where the little gold one would fit. At first it wouldn’t budge. You thought you might have to have Tony melt it off or at least try some bolt cutters. You sighed in frustration. “Come on, Lok. I have to. Please.” You weren’t sure whether you were talking to him or the bracelet. You tried it one more time and it worked. Like magic. You slipped it off and tenderly touched each emerald before you set it down.

As soon as Steve hit the door you knew. The air was different when he walked in. You felt different. When he said he loved you you wanted to cry. Steve would be only the third man you had ever really loved. You felt guilty for even feeling how you felt. You knew the two of you were alone now. You certainly didn’t mean to fall in love with him. Yet, you did. You said it back and meant every syllable.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

Loki searched high and low for a way to make you immortal. He found a few promising leads from a mystic in Niflheim that lead him to the elves in Alfheim. They gained immortality from the Yggdrasil. Speaking to one of the elders there Loki was asked to consider two possibilities.

“You can grant her immortality by binding her to your life force. A snippet of the Yggdrasil forged with part of yourself will let her live as you do. The problem with that is if either of you dies the other will follow. You are not impervious to death and neither is she. You also cannot force her to take the gift. She must choose to live forever. The alternative, dear boy, is to make yourself mortal.”

The thought made Loki queasy. “How do I do that?”

“There is a tree on Midgard called manzanilla de muerte. Apple of death. Highly poisonous for humans. For you, it makes you mortal. You just need a bit of the sap. Once ingested you will age as she does and die as she will.”

“Will I lose my abilities?”

“No. But you will be far more fragile. Do not make this decision lightly or in haste. Be sure that whatever you choose it is the right choice.” Loki took the snippet of tree and headed back to Asgard.

Yes, Heimdall was watching you. Loki did not always appreciate his honesty especially when you and Steve were in the throes of passion. On this day Heimdall said you looked perplexed. “She’s talking to you.”

“What does she say?” He listened closer.

“She’s taking off her bracelet.”

Loki felt like he was being kicked in the stomach. He wrapped his hand around the tiny screwdriver he wore around his neck. The spell he cast on the bracelet did keep you connected to him. He could feel your pulse your warmth. At times he smelled the spice of your perfume. When he removed the leather cord from around his neck he released you. “Heimdall I need to go to Midgard.”

“It doesn’t seem like she wants you there.”

“I’m not going to New York. I need to go to Florida. I’m looking for a tree.” Heimdall set him in a remote part of Florida. He had an idea where the tree was but before he could be on his way his phone rang.

“Mr. Laufeyson this is Alan. The house is ready. When can I hand over the keys?”

“I can be there in an hour if that’s alright.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be here finishing a few things. Look forward to showing you around. She’s a beaut.”

Loki got to the tree and carefully collected its milky white sap in a vile. Soon after he was navigating his way through the woods near your new home.

The light hit the house just as you saw in your vision. Alan saw him and waved him over.

“Alan you exceeded my expectations” he said as he handed him a bag of cash. “It’s all there. You can count it.”

“All of your payments have been correct to the penny. No reason for me to mistrust you now. Come on. Have a look around. The gardener finished this morning. Everything is to your specifications. The decorator had a hard time finding the table but we got it.”

Loki marveled at the craftsmanship. Every nook and cranny was exactly how you wanted it. Four perfect bedrooms. The master was large but still felt very cozy. A shower and a large soaker tub set on gryphons feet. Soon the ivy would overtake the window casting the most interesting shadows. He imagined laying in the bath with you washing your hair belly heavy with his child. It took his breath away.

“Alan you are a master at your craft. I so appreciate your attention to detail. We’ll be in touch when we’re ready to expand.”

“Yes, sir. Looking forward to working with you again.” He handed Loki the keys and showed himself out.

Loki decided to stay in the house for a while. He stowed the Yggdrasil cutting in the herb cabinet he had built into the wall of the kitchen and the sap in another drawer. He spent the better part of the day warding the house. Had you been there it would have made for lighter work. No matter. It was done and you could feel safe. When he went to bed he took off the tiny screwdriver from around his neck and set it on the bedside table. He couldn’t feel you anymore.

The next morning, when the light was just right, he took a picture of the perfect cottage set in the glen. He went down to the drugstore and had the picture printed onto a postcard. Next he went to the locksmith where he had the ornate key to the front door fabricated. Last was the post office where he sent off the package and a copy of the deed. “Until we meet again, Pet” he said as he dropped it into the box. He went back home to have tea in the garden across from the empty chair where he hoped one day soon he would see you worrying over a book.

[a-world-in-grey]

Sunshine Never Stops (Clouds Get in the Way) au

Or another 3am idea (that I would love more if it came at a semi-decent hour) that is so unfairly cute.

@secret-engima and @swiftyue - to make up for the angst of my last post.

.

-Ardyn gets past the gate guards, wrapped in the illusion of a nameless Crownsguard. He wants to scoff at how easy it is - so much for the Lucians’ vaunted Wall.

-He walks through the celebrations. Inwardly he seethes. Oh how ignorant the masses are, praying to cruel gods and believing in false kings. It would be so simple to reach out with his power and twist. So simple to turn cheers and laughter into such deligtful screams of fear...

-He retrains himself. He is here for a purpose after all, and it wouldn’t do to give the game away before it even begins.

-From the center of Insomnia, the Citadel cuts a striking figure though the skyline. Ardyn admires the architecture, admires how it might look crushed to so many pieces...

-Hmm, perhaps he will spare the Citadel. It would be a shame to see such a beautiful structure laid to waste. Far better to keep it as a trophy, a symbol of all his brother’s power come to nothing.

-Yes, Ardyn likes that idea much better.

-But the sight of the Citadel, of the Royal family’s seat of power gives Ardyn an spark of inspiration, and he changes his itinerary on the spot.

-He has a job to do, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have a bit of fun first.

-And it would be so rude to visit without saying hello to the family.

.

-Once past security, ‘Mars Sapientia’ is ushered off to meet with the Marshal. Ardyn lets the illusion split from him, ‘Mars’ following his superiors while Ardyn strolls through the grounds without anyone paying him a second glance.

-Truly. Ardyn may have to adjust his estimation of the Crownsguard at this rate. And the young Immortal (ha!) Leonis was rumored to be the newest Marshal. Pity, Ardyn had such high expectations for the boy.

-Not just anyone could cut off Gilgamesh’s arm.

-“What are you doing?”

-Ardyn blinks. There is a child glaring up at him, though the baby fat rounding her face turns what is no doubt intended to be a fearsome glare into a frankly adorable pout.

-Red hair and blue eyes. Ah, this must be his newest niece.

-And a delightful opportunity.

-“I am enjoying the gardens, dear Princess.” He says, one hand removing his hat with a flourish as he bows. He wraps his power about the both of them, hiding them from anyone who might come looking.

-The Princess is decidedly unimpressed with him, judging by her scowl. She points to a nearby stone bench. “Sit.” She orders.

-Ardyn carefully does not snicker. He doubts his niece would appreciate it, and he can always rile her up later. “I appreciate the concern Your Highness, but I am perfectly alright standing.”

-The bench is in the sun after all. He may have his hat, but even so direct sunlight is a touch... warm for his tastes.

-The Princess frowns. Not in frustration, curiously enough, but in thought and Ardyn can almost see the gears turning in her little head.

-Ah. No, not see. Feel. His niece’s magic (sunshine-fire-warmth, the same odd twist to it that Ardyn knows so intimately yet so weak Ardyn only now can sense it) curls freely about her, unrestrained and conveying her concern for him quite clearly.

-A spark of triumph, and his niece grabs his hand. Ardyn lets the little girl pull him further into the gardens, further into shade, without so much as a request for Ardyn to follow.

-Demanding little thing.

-Naive too. Unaware of the danger she courts, as she pulls him further away from the well trodden paths.

-Oh how easy this will be.

-They round the corner of the path, coming to a small alcove shaded by trees and hidden from view by flowering bushes. And in the center, another bench.

-“Sit.”

-Ardyn laughs. His niece is stubborn. “Of course, Your Highness.” He can afford to indulge her.

-He sits, and the Princess hoists herself up beside him. Ardyn has but a moment to recognize the tiny flare of magic, the frown of concentration and intent on her face.

-He gently catches her wrists, halting golden wreathed hands before they can touch him. “It is rude to use magic on someone without permission, Your Highness.” He says sternly, meeting her gaze and trying to impress upon her just how serious he is. Honestly, has no one taught her this yet? He’s shocked she hasn’t hurt herself yet!

-This time the Princess does pout. But she drops her hands when he releases her, magic curling about in shame. Ah, so she has been told. “You’re hurt. Want to help.”

-Hurt?

-His niece nods as though Ardyn has spoke the thought aloud (Ardyn did not, he knows he did not) and reaches for him. Ardyn watches wih sharp eyes but her magic doesn’t ripple, so he allows pudgy fingers to poke his chest, directly over his heart.

-“Not right.” She says from her perch in his lap. “Cold. Everywhere, but worse here,” a second tap to his heart, and then she pokes his forehead, “and here.”

-Ardyn... is shocked as his niece sits back and glares at his chest, as though she can scare the problem into submission. (Perhaps when she is older, her glare will inspire fear. For now, it only inspires the desire to pinch her cheeks.)

-How interesting. His niece can apparently sense the Starscourge.

-His heart skips a beat. His niece tried to heal the Starscourge.

-Has she no survival instinct?!

-Ardyn wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, settling his chin atop her red hair (so like his) and breathing deep to settle the flare of panic seizing his chest. “Promise me you won’t try to heal this again, Little Sun,” he murmurs, “it’s very dangerous and it’ll make you very sick.”

-Small hands tighten on his shirt. “But you’re sick.”

-That isn’t a promise. “I am. I’ve been sick for a very long time. Promise me, Little Sun.”

-Sola leans back to glare at him. “Why haven’t the doctors helped!” She demands, righteous rage and indignation searing through her magic.

-Ardyn chuckles. “It’s not something that can be healed, Little Sun.”

-“Have they tried?”

-Ardyn opens his mouth - of course he tried, thousands he tried to save only to damn himself - and pauses.

-Has anyone in this day and age tried to cure the Starscourge?

-Ardyn... doesn’t know.

-“I’m going to find a cure.” Sola declares (and Ardyn knows he didn’t speak that aloud either- can his niece sense his emotions?). She looks up at him, blue eyes blazing with magic-will-promise, “And then I’ll heal you.”

-A beat. Then, “Please?”

-And Ardyn is so tempted to say yes, to accept the oath offered.

-But Sola’s magic is barely a fraction of what Ardyn’s was. He’ll not bind her to an oath she has no hope of keeping.

-“You care so much for someone you do not know, Little Sun.” He says instead.

-His niece frowns at him, geniunely puzzled. “You’re family.” She says. “Family helps each other.”

-Ardyn stills. “Little Sun,” he asks carefully, “how do you know that?”

-In every memory, only the Founder King was remembered by history. Nothing of Ardyn, not the Healer or the Adagium, so how does a toddler know what only Besithia had discovered after decades plundering royal tombs-

-Hands touch his face. “Look like me.” She says, and Ardyn can pick out the faint similarities beyond their coloring, “Feel like me.”

-“That does not mean I am not dangerous, Little Sun.” Ardyn warns, and he lets the illusion over his face fall. “That doesn’t mean I’m not a monster.”

-Face to face with the Starscourge, with a sight many have fled from in terror-

-Sola blinks. Prods his cheek. “Creepy.” She declares with a grin. Then the grin disappears for another glare. “Not a monster. Sick.”

-Arydn... doesn’t know how to respond. What can he say to such simple, fierce conviction?

-“You’re Uncle.” Sola says. “Trust you.”

-She does. She really does, and when was the last time anyone trusted him so intimately?

-“Come with me.” Ardyn says. “Let me teach you to heal, so one day you can keep your promise.”

-This will be his revenge. His niece will be his Heir, not Somnus’s.

-And as Sola’s face brightens with all the sunshine in the world, Ardyn vows he will not let the darkness in his veins take her light like it did his.

[kanawolf]

and ffxv :3

Thank you for the ask bean! And yes, Imma add Kingsglaive to the mix too lol

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: Nyx Ulric. I love him so much. Tredd Furia, Luche Lazarus, and Cor Leonis are very close behind him though.

Least Favorite character: Iedolas Aldercapt. What a dick.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): Crowe/Luna, Prompto/Noctis, Ignis/Noctis, Ravus/Ignis, Tredd/Pelna

Character I find most attractive: Nyx, Cor, Drautos, and Ardyn are all tied.

Character I would marry: Honestly? I feel like I’d go with either Cor or Nyx.

Character I would be best friends with: Prompto, ideally Iris, Tredd, Crowe, and Pelna too.

a random thought: The Glaives deserve better, I really wish I knew what was going on in Drautos’ head while he was the Captain of the Glaives, and I really wish there were more references to the Glaives in the main game and not just in Comrades. Cor Leonis is the best dad in FFXV.

An unpopular opinion: Ho boy. I feel like I have a lot to be honest, especially in terms of character perceptions and what not. But, I honestly think there was more Regis (and his forefathers) could have done in the war against Niflheim. For one thing, instead of separating magic and science and only using magic, they should have tried to use both to bolster their forces since they weren’t about to start making MTs or use daemons. I also wish that, throughout the game, there were more active choices that could be made to defy the prophecy and have a happier ending.

My Canon OTP: Uh...... Ignoct. (none of them are canon but ignoct is the closest)

My Non-canon OTP: All of my OC/Canon ships lmao. Also Crowe/Luna.

Most Badass Character: Lunafreya or Drautos. 

Most Epic Villain: Ardyn.

Pairing I am not a fan of: Noctis/Luna.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): LUNA AND CROWE. THEY BOTH DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER.

Favourite Friendship: Nyx + Crowe + Libertus, the Chocobros

Character I most identify with: Prompto ngl

Character I wish I could be: Lunafreya or Prompto probably

[savage-rhi]

Immortal Shield  Chapter 1: Resurrection

The first thing the lifeless body felt was the air. How cold and rigid the environment was. Much like a newborn taking in its first experience post-birth, it reacted with a shudder. There was no consciousness in the body; no ego to pilot the suit of meat. Not yet at least, as the body began to turn itself back on like a switch to a light. Little by little, systems began to reboot.

Ardyn tensed. His skin was littered with goosebumps as instinctive whimpers escaped past his pale lips. Sensations long thought extinct began to awaken as his lungs beseeched him to take in a deep breath. The rush of blood to his heart was enough to cause Ardyn to stir though he was still under the illusion of death. The dark was comforting much like a mother's womb, where there was a potential yet dreamless sleep. No, not yet…he for the briefest of seconds thought aloud before he went back to being nothing.

A blank slate of darkness within a half-dead corpse began to blossom into a mind, with memories pouring like water over a broken dam. Bloodshed, hope, familiar faces, and monstrous creatures rapidly encroached, infecting the calm void with a chaotic dance of colors. The only means of escaping the sudden influx was to open his eyes and acknowledge the truth he had been desperately trying to cling away from; he was alive once more. By the curse of the Gods, he was alive yet again.

“N-no,” Ardyn whispered to himself. His breathing became more labored. “N-no. Not again. Not after--I’m--n-no…”

Alive . The word ran amok in his head. Everything about it from tone to definition felt wrong in the core of his being. This had to be a mistake. Some cruel joke. One last laugh from the Astrals. That or his great nephew the would-be king screwed something up to make this wretched curse come to pass once more. God, he felt enraged. Though the anger served to mask the deep sadness Ardyn had dwelling within himself. His dignity had been taken away yet again. His autonomy was cast into the wind without care, much like how his naked body felt. It added further insult to injury, not being resurrected with clothes this time around.

Ardyn managed to flail onto his left side weakly and threw up, curled in a fetal position as his mind began to process how he got from point A to point B. Ardyn was used to pain in his previous life, but this time around it felt as if his body had been beaten to a pulp, something that was a foreign concept to him in all his 2,000 years of being immortal. It hurt to move, and it hurt much more to think about anything else other than the pain of being a living creature.

Hours laying on his side passed, and Ardyn began to feel the cloudiness of his mind settle, unlike the sea storm currently ravaging Angelgard. There was something off about his retention nonetheless. He could recall the final battle. How Noctis, himself, and Lunafreya took down Bahamut and brought the dragon god to his knees. The bitter feud between himself and Somnus which resulted in the loss of his love Aera, a split kingdom, anger, and retribution from 2,000 years ago. His time as a Chancellor of Niflheim and the schemes he concocted to ensure his revenge against the Lucis bloodline. It was all there. His tragic story from beginning to end like one large textbook had been rebooted in his brain, but he felt there were missing pages. Chunks of text missing from the overall picture.

It slowly began to dawn on Ardyn that his mind was much more quiet than usual. The voices of thousands that he had daemonified in the past were not present, not sharing centuries of information at his beck and call. He may still be a cursed immortal, but his brain belonged to that of one man--himself. Ardyn wasn’t sure if he should be overjoyed or scared shitless at the fact. Both came naturally to him as he wrapped his arms around himself, a vain attempt to keep his body warm from the cold.

It didn’t take long until Ardyn was screaming at the top of his lungs until they felt like a fire had caught hold of them. The sorrow in his heart was too great to keep locked away. He had never felt so broken in a long time. Not since the night, he had been condemned to Angelgard and whatever was left of his loved ones were struck down by Somnus's most loyal like his beloved Aera. He bellowed until not a sound would move past his lips, his throat ached from shrieking vocals that shouldn’t have left the body of a man.

“Why, why am I not allowed to rest?” Bitterness laced his voice as he swallowed. He didn’t know if there was an afterlife, or if he had been reunited with Aera. He couldn't remember. Nonetheless, the dreamless sleep had been a comforting friend for a period of time. He craved the void like an addict, and much like an addict who had his drug of choice taken away without consent, the withdrawal angered Ardyn with seething rage.

Rain from the coastal storm surrounding Angelgard gently caressed Ardyn’s skin. The sensation of the water cascading off the fine hairs on his body snapped him out of his stoic contemplations. He tiredly blinked. Aching groans left him as his body began to move of its own volition. He instinctively tilted his head back, opening his mouth to allow the drops of water from the sky to soothe the scratchy sensation on his tongue. It wasn’t much, but enough to jolt him further. Ardyn shivered as the storm picked up speed. The rain matched the tempo of his mind as he saw the irony in the fact he was resurrected at Angelgard yet again and defenseless.

“The damn gods…Noctis. How--how could you screw this up?” He hissed.

Ardyn contemplated whether or not he should get up and try to live again. There was no doubt his body was beginning to feel the first stages of hypothermia being out in the storm. The fumbling hands and utter exhaustion were indicators he was tiptoeing on the line of mortality. Perhaps if he merely waited for death, it would return him to its embrace. Even though he couldn’t recall an afterlife, he had a feeling Aera in some shape or form was waiting for him. He had to go back. If only for her.

As the minutes ticked on it began to seem less appealing to die in this fashion. Ardyn had perished many a time, but it wasn’t quite like this experience. So uncomfortable, and his pain tolerance felt weakened. It was almost as if he was a mere human once more and not the Adagium; the creature who never truly felt the strangle of mortality. There was also the creeping superstition that even if he succeeded, he’d just come back again. That was the last thing Ardyn wanted. To live through this hell over and over. He had to find the answers to his predicament. No matter how much he despised the situation.

With great resentment, Ardyn forced himself up. He let out a numbing groan as he stumbled to his feet. His skin felt hot and cold at the same time. Like fire and ice trying in vain to come to an agreement. His body swayed as it attempted to right itself. The clumsiness of his actions nearly caused him to topple as he trekked the environment. Goosebumps kissed his flesh, and he wished more than anything he had clothes to cover himself with. Hugging himself wasn’t doing much to sate the stinging sensation of the cold.

Ardyn’s vision blurred in and out as he came upon a clearing, and shock graced his features as he could see below there was a settlement of some kind. Lights illuminated in the dark as the storm raged on. At first, he thought it to be a comforting hallucination until there were only so many blinks he could perform to make the lights go away.

“This--can’t be right.” He said softly to himself.

Ardyn recognized he was on the island of Angelgard due to the strong petrichor scents and rugged terrain, but this was something he knew for sure didn’t exist the last time he was on Eos.

“How long has it been?” He asked aloud, knowing no one would answer for him.

A blinding flash of light hit the direction to his right. Ardyn snapped away from his thoughts to shield his eyes from the onslaught. A tightness surrounded the outer part of his pupils as he jumped back. Muddled voices flocked to his ears and he tried deciphering what was being said but to no avail. He hoped that whoever stumbled upon him wasn’t about to hitch his sorry hide back to Niflheim as a lab rat. Those seven months were hell being poked and prodded in the shallow labs Verstael ruled with an iron fist. Ardyn would’ve preferred being left to rot in the caves on this godforsaken island than to endure something akin to Verstael’s experiments once more.

“I asked if you’re okay!”

“I--” Ardyn was speechless as he began to register what was being shouted his way. He lowered his arm in time with the flashlight as it traveled over his body aside from his face. Ardyn could make out three men, one in his late fifties while the others appeared to be young twenty-somethings. Their attire was very much modern, which gave Ardyn’s mind some reprieve. He wasn’t too far into the future from the looks of things.

“I may have--ran into some trouble.” Ardyn forced himself to reply. Despite being utterly exhausted, he began to craft a lie to protect himself. Instinct told him he needed to keep a low profile until he could figure out what year he was in. So far he felt he was doing a poor job, but it seemed to be working on the older man as he approached.

“Damn. You cold, son? Here.” The old man took off his coat and wrapped it around Ardyn’s shoulders, making sure it didn’t slip off of. The man made sure to pat it down further so Ardyn was no longer exposed. The last thing anyone needed to see in town was a sickly naked guy no matter how humorous his tale might’ve been on how he got to that sorry state.

The warmth immediately had Ardyn sigh in relief as he shuddered into the soft material.

“Thank you,” Ardyn muttered, keeping his head down.

“Don’t mention it. What happened if you don’t mind me asking? Were you robbed?” The old man gestured as the two younger men watched on with caution.

Ardyn shook his head as his bottom lip trembled. Another wave of cold air from the storm hit him as he tried to bundle up more into the oversized coat.

“Afraid not. You see--I was shipwrecked. I lost everything.”

“Shipwrecked?” The old man made a face.

“Yes. Not the--brightest idea I had. Going into the storm from Galdin Quay.”

“You don’t say.” The old man shook his head. A disappointing sigh escaped his mouth, causing the fine hairs of his mustache to blow upward as he ignored the rain pouring hard on him. It wasn’t his first time hearing an experience such as this. Concern lingered in his voice as he questioned Ardyn further.

“Was there anyone else with you?”

“N-no. Just old me.” Ardyn replied.

“In that case, let’s get you to town. C’mon, the boys and I will give you a ride to an inn. Get you settled. Can you walk alright?”

Ardyn merely nodded, not in the mood for further conversation. He wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere warm and not feel this miserable. Despite not giving an answer regarding if he needed assistance, the two men from afar came to his side and helped guide Ardyn to the truck. The times he stumbled, they helped him back onto his feet. These acts of kindness were a far cry from the Niflheim troops that dragged him out of the caves at Vestael’s command. The contrast in experiences was interesting to Ardyn, to say the least.

During the ride into town, Ardyn passed out in the backseat before the old man could pry further into his tragic tale of becoming stranded in a storm. His body fell into a deep slumber. Dreamless and dark. For a good while, Ardyn assumed he was dead until he awoke to the comfort of a soft bed. The sheets smelled floral as if they had been imbued in rose oil. The pleasant scent was enough to stir him from sleep. From afar, he could make out a window with the sun pouring in to greet him.

“I must’ve been out for hours,” Ardyn mumbled to himself. He turned to his side to enjoy more precious sleep, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door and a man with medical attire ventured in along with a woman whom Ardyn assumed was either a nurse or another medic.

“You’re awake!” The man greeted warmly. He pulled up a small stool nearby to Ardyn’s side of the bed and smiled.

If Ardyn had the energy to roll his eyes at the doctor’s happy-go-lucky demeanor, he would’ve and then some. A disgruntled groan left his lips. He sighed before speaking.

“I guess I am now,” Ardyn muttered, rubbing his head as he rose up. “I’m assuming I’m not at the inn?”

“Afraid not. You scared the people that brought you here. You wouldn’t budge when they’d try to wake you. How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?”

Ardyn nodded. He winced upon feeling something sharp in his upper left arm. He pulled back one of the blankets, seeing he was connected to an IV. His eyes followed the hollow tube and up to the sack of liquid hanging beside his bed. While he made his observations, the doctor continued to speak. Ardyn didn’t register a word, not in the headspace where he wanted to begin a long conversation. He was too tired for long-winded rants.

“How long has this been inside me?” Ardyn asked, ignoring the rambling of the doctor. He briefly looked the way of the nurse who had been taking notes and making small adjustments to the IV now. Suspicion was clear in his gaze, recalling when Verstael brought him back to base and lulled him into a sense of security before the experiments commenced.

The doctor furrowed his brows, slightly taken back by the change in discussion. “A few days. You were dehydrated and suffering hypothermia. It’s only fluids we gave to speed up your recovery, I assure you. You should be well for discharge this afternoon.”

Ardyn sighed in relief, closing his eyes for a moment. “Good.”

“You seem upset. Is this about what happened to your ship?” The doctor asked.

Ardyn raised a brow, his gaze looming over the man as if he had said something idiotic. He caught himself though, blinking a few times as he cleared his throat.

“You can say that,” Ardyn began then started to steer the conversation in his favor. “I’m not familiar with this side of the world, perhaps you could enlighten me. I didn’t know Angelgard had a town. I could recall it being too desolate for life to flourish on its soil.”

“Oh!” The doctor exclaimed. “You must be from Niflheim. Angelus Vitae has been functioning on the island now for five years. Many that were misplaced from the war between Lucis and Niflheim immigrated here after King Noctis purged the daemons from the world. This year we vote if we get sovereignty or not since we now have almost 3,000 people.”

“3,000?” Ardyn furrowed his brows.

“Yep! 3,000 and counting.”

Ardyn made a face. He could have sworn he had merely seen a few buildings. Not much of anything to qualify as a town or city. Then again he had just been brought back to life and wasn’t himself, nor was his mind as sharp as it could be especially on the night of his resurrection.

“Why did you assume I am from Niflheim?” Ardyn asked. His body tensed as if bracing itself for an impact, worried that perhaps the doctor knew who he was; the former chancellor who doomed everyone and everything for the sake of vengeance. He was caught off guard when the doctor kept smiling and remained calm, not knowing he was looking into the eyes of the Adagium.

“Many from Niflheim aren’t aware of Angelus Vitae, nor the other changes on this side of the world unless word of mouth travels. Did I mistake you for an immigrant?”

Ardyn shook his head, deciding to go along with the doc’s assumptions. “No, no you didn’t.”

“I understand it might be a little jarring in Lucis, especially with your country trying to patch itself up with the limited resources it has. Communication between all the kingdoms has been abysmal at times because of the damages the Astrals caused, but I believe it’ll get better.”

Ardyn quietly contemplated. So it seemed that the people of Lucis at least knew a piece of the truth, that the great Gods themselves were ready to condemn the world. He wondered to what extent Noctis and the rest had shared of their final battle. So many questions, and so little patience to deal with them.

Ardyn glanced towards the window, seeing some elegant trees from the distance swaying back and forth against the southern air. The storm he had fared had long passed. A mental one now took its place as Ardyn attempted to figure out how long it’s been since he died. Noctis was still a king, and it seemed that the world was in an alliance of sorts to fix up the mess the Astrals and Ardyn himself left behind. Culture shock didn’t necessarily capture how he felt, but it was close enough.

“I must tend to other patients. What’s your name? I need it so we can discharge you.”

Ardyn took in a deep breath, furrowing his brows as he watched the nurse leave the room after making a note on the chart by his bed that the IV had been adjusted. He scarcely felt anything, much less her presence due to distraction.

“Adrien,” He paused and debated with himself about using Izunia before settling on a different last name. His features softened while he picked the first thing that came to mind. “Adrien Calamitas.”

‘The next summit of the National Restoration Project (NRP), a global truce between all kingdoms to rebuild Eos post-starscourage, will be taking place within Insomnia’s borders. Representatives of King Noctis stated that discussions assisting Niflheim with returning running water to its citizens will be the first on the agenda, followed by announcing new immigration policies for Lucis. Provisions for those who were displaced by the war and the starscourage are expected to continue for the next three years, however, according to Insomnia’s treasury, it may run out sooner than expected.

“...Everyone’s hearts are in the right place, but the fact of the matter is that economically, Insomnia will not be able to take care of so many people at the rate we are spending.” A treasury spokesperson reported over the weekend.

“...The Lucis and Niflheim kingdoms played a hand in the suffering of many due to the years of contempt and war between lands. Insomnia will do its part to ensure that everyone, regardless of citizenship, will be taken care of in Lucis while the restoration of Eos continues.” King Noctis proclaimed in response to the treasury’s warning.

Accordo and Tenebrae will bring their agendas to the summit regarding territory borders and rebuilding their respective government's post-Niflheim rule. Queen Lunafreya is anticipated to give her feedback on Tenebrae’s governmental policies in the coming days.

First secretary Lady Camelia Claustra is continuing her efforts to find war criminals within the lands of Accordo. “...Our forces will stop at nothing until we have rounded up every last man who took advantage of the fall of not only our country but other nations due to the starscourage and the Lucis-Niflheim war. Justice will be swift and Accordo will deliver.”

Lady Camelia last month sent more men to the Lucis kingdom to work alongside King Noctis’s new Crownsguard to search for war criminals. The focus on finding crimes related to genocide remains first priority for Accordo troops.

The Niflheim Committee has reported that Lady Solara Aldercapt Antiquum, granddaughter of the late Emperor Aldercapt, has declined ascension to governing Niflheim. Lady Solara finalized the documents of her relinquishments this past Friday. A spokesperson from the Niflheim Committee stated the following, “...We are deeply saddened, nonetheless we acknowledge and support Lady Solara’s decision. Niflheim is undergoing many evolutions of change, and we will continue doing our part in making sure the needs of the people are spoken for until a new ruler or form of government will take its roots.”

Niflheim continues its struggle to bring clean water to its citizens. It is unknown what actions the Committee will take regarding governmental policy, but it is anticipated to be brought up at the summit.

Ardyn sighed, furrowing his brows as he attempted to digest the news that appeared on the small TV set within his hotel room. That was something that didn’t change within the last couple of years, how insufferable the media was reporting on every little thing. He could barely keep up with how rapid-fire subjects were lain out. It was convenient for kickstarting disdain between citizens and nations, but now being on the other side, Ardyn could understand why this was annoying.  

“At least everyone seems to be taking a break from trying to slaughter one another,” Ardyn said with relief as he turned off the television and sat at the edge of the bed, removing the new shoes he purchased recently.

The black boots were a far cry from what he had years ago, but they would help with the rough terrain outside of the Quay. His clothes were simple too. A white dress shirt, green trousers, and a long black coat reminiscent of his custom garb from Niflheim were all that he owned for the time being. He smirked some upon looking over the coat after shoving his boots to the right. He missed the old thing more than he thought he would.

Weeks flew in a blink of an eye for Ardyn as he settled in Galdin Quay upon leaving Angelus Vitae. To keep himself inconspicuous, he performed odd jobs around the outskirts until he could accommodate the new knowledge of the world to mind and find shelter. Ardyn hadn’t worked a regular job in ages, not since he was a boy. There was something nostalgic about not having to worry about the gripe of politics and living simply that he appreciated. He did miss some things from when he was chancellor, taking a break at his leisure for one thing.

Despite the contentment, struggles of a different sort appeared that Ardyn wasn’t used to. Without access to the memories of people he had corrupted with the starscourage, Ardyn had to adapt slowly to life. Learning the basics of how to work a phone among other advancements was beyond frustrating, especially when at one point in time it was second nature to him.

Ardyn recalled feeling like an idiot asking people in passing how to update his phone. Biologically, he was thirty-three, but at that moment, he felt he could’ve easily passed for being over 2,000. He was never one that felt self-conscious about his true age, but it seemed in this lifetime there was always something new to be discovered, and he had a hard time keeping up.

Stretching he reached for his phone. Ardyn looked at how many credits were left on his account with an app. His golden eyes for a second looked towards the nightstand where two previous phones were sitting at the top, smashed in due to stress from not figuring out how to use the blasted things. He hoped the third one would be the last for a while if he could keep his anger under control.

As he scrolled through his banking account, Ardyn was surprised that his earnings from being chancellor wasn’t confiscated during the restoration movement. Whoever was keeping tabs on Niflheim’s treasury department was doing a piss poor job. Despite how lazy he admitted himself to be with the task, Ardyn knew he could’ve called upon better security.

With a few calls, Ardyn was able to access some of the wealth he earned while serving the empire. It paid to be gifted with a silver tongue and able to concoct stories on the fly, lying to the workers that he was a former associate of the chancellor that was promised a sum for his services years back. The new war displacement policy in Lucis worked in Ardyn’s favor as well to get his money transferred to a new account. Alas, the funds weren’t enough to allow a life of luxury like he was accommodated to in Niflheim, but he could easily settle if indulgence was what he sought.

Putting the phone away, Ardyn relaxed into the bed and stared up at the ceiling. An empty space began to fill his heart as he made an attempt to relax after working a night job for some locals. He felt like a ghost living inside a body he didn’t recognize. A ghost who lost his way in life. Nothing inside. No heartbeat despite there being a pulse. No racing thoughts, only a peculiar numbness with a tunnel vision of morose feelings and regret nudging him closer to a precipice that was indescribable. The emotional pain of his resurrection felt excruciating despite how collected Ardyn appeared on the outside. He could easily be yelling at the top of his lungs, and no one would notice.

Everything he had done, from slaughtering whoever got in his way to manipulating the highest, Ardyn had no regrets. Not until he had put on the ring of the Lucii and acted as the blood sacrifice in Noctis’s place to take Bahamut back to whatever hell he crawled from. Ardyn’s story and his quest to fill his bloodthirsty nature amounted to nothing in the end. So many lives were destroyed all on account of the Gods treating humans like playthings in the cosmos. And he played a huge hand in them nearly wiping out the planet.

Ardyn’s fingers grasped onto the blanket out of hate. If he could slay the Astrals over and over, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat for the misery they had caused.

He lost count of how many times Aera’s death replayed in his head as of late. The what ifs plaguing him regarding Somnus and the Gods’ scheming agenda. If only he could’ve talked with his brother. If only Somnus would’ve allowed such a request. If only Aera had stayed with him and not gone back home. If only he could’ve approached Regis years ago and pleaded his case. If only Niflheim didn’t find him on Angelgard. If only he had stuck to his convictions and didn’t feel the persuasive pull of war from Verstael’s crafty proclamations. If only. If only.

If only he had never been born.

“Aera,” Ardyn choked out. He could feel himself becoming emotional as thoughts lingered on his love. She was the only solace he could hold onto when the agony stroked his heavy mind.

“I promise I will be back to rest. For good this time. There’s nothing here for me. Eos will be for the better after I find permeance. Please wait for me again.”

The journey to Insomnia to confront Noctis once more was around the corner. And Ardyn prayed before he felt sleep carry him off that his great nephew would strike him down for a final time.

[goddessofroyalty]

Now I'm just thinking if Prompto *did* inherit magic powers - either it'd come out when he was very little (in which Cloud Panics A Lot and has to teach him to hide it) or it comes out in some suitably dramatic fashion (idk saving Noct from something?) and now Everyone Knows. And are *very* confused. Niff experiment? Result of some unknown Lucis Caelum/Fleuret bastard line? The Astrals screwing around? Noct somehow *accidentally* giving him magic? People are Very Confused.

So because of how I modified the verse in order to get certain things (Aerith) in play there’s actually a handful of ‘lost’ magical lines that existed but died out. And depending on how I play the plot in question Sephiroth is one of the inheritors of one of them (either through Lucrecia or Vincent depending on what symbology I’m feeling). So that probably gets bounced around as well along with “lost bastard line of one of the still Known Families”.

But okay to back up a little if Prompto showed magic when he was young Cloud would TOTALLY freak and encourage him to hide it. Not just because it might bring attention back to Sephiroth but also Cloud is probably fairly aware that people who carry the genes of the magical lines generally are seen as valuable as pawns. Luna is currently fairly well-known Niflheim captive (or well enough known if you know the calling-cards) and Cloud’s also met Aerith. He knows that if it gets out that Prompto has magic unsavory people will want to experiment on/control his son.Which is Not An Option in Cloud’s book so NOBODY can find out Prompto has magic. 

When it DOES get out Cloud panics MORE because... well... even if the Lucis isn’t going to take his son as political pawn(TM) it is HIGHLY UNLIKELY that the ENTIRE COUNTRY does not possess at least one mad scientist or one morally screwed people who will sell Prompto out to said mad scientists. Cloud just has to hope that enough of a lid can be kept on it that it doesn’t get out that far.

Prompto is pretty confused where he got his powers from as well. Cloud’s always been incredibly tight-lipped about Prompto’s other parent so he doesn’t know if he did inherit it from whoever they were or if it is Noctis accidentally giving him some powers (although the powers probably don’t line up perfectly to be that) or something else. Hell, even if Cloud does reveal Prompto inherited it from his other parent there’s still the question of where that OTHER PARENT got the powers from. That basically ONLY rules out Noctis someone giving him powers.

[noirbriar]

FFXV AU: The Lion, the Coeurl and the Cub (3)

Umm,wow, thank you everyone who liked the series and listen to my indulgent ramblings! OOC-ness ahead, but be reminded they are depressed and exhausted. Especially the twenty something year olds and the old man.Feelings are hard. You don’t resolve them being your ‘usual self’.

PART 1 HERE  PART 2 HERE 

(possible crossover of FF lores ahead in this AU.OOC-ness is all on me.You have been warned!)

- Luna is honestly feeling the tiredness seep into her bones, She feels nothing now that her powers blessed( …cursed? ) by Bahamut is gone. Shiva had left after Etro’s ultimatum.Possibly to find the other Astals.Ravus is looking after Tenebrae now they have been liberated and Areana is busy with Niflheim and the charge Loqi left with her.Supposedly Aldercapt’s secret granddaughter? She isn’t sure and for the first time she doesn’t want to care. She just feels so lost like an aimless flame burning out.

- With the entire Insomnia army crippled, Cor and Nyx have to gather and sort out their forces (“Yes we can’t do any magic.Yes half of our weapons are lost in the armiger.Use your head bash the daemon if you have to then!”) while Regis and Clarus focus on the remaining Niflheim government and citizens (or whats left anyway)

- Luna stands quietly by with Iris (who arrived with the second calvary. She took up arms as well since her father was unable to complete half his duties while recovering ) and Crowe watching over with an equally tired Ardyn on the same bench. The fact that two healers who got screwed over by the God they once believed in is sitting in the same space with a can of Ebony each seems almost comical if not for the awkwardness.

-(“What? So am I on babysitting duty?””Because I’m the Captain now and I say so.But hey,you get free pass to stab him now you can’t play with fire.””That makes no sense, Ulric. I’m telling your husband, clearly he’s the brains in this relationship.”) 

-“You are a lot like her.Aera.” Ardyn starts wryly.”I am sorry for your loss.” Losses?Suffering? Luna for once can’t find the right words. “As I am. For…every thing else I suppose.” He replies.The “I tried to murder you” goes unsaid but heavily implied.Its not much but its a start. Luna sips her coffee. Urgh, Ebony tastes…awful.

- They gather later at the shelter will act as their resting area and Luna sees the boys already there. Gladio has Prompto resting against him, tucking in more blankets that they can spare, huddling and trying to give some comfort.While Ignis is finishing cleaning up his wounds.Without magic, their potions are limited.Ether and Elixir seems to be useless for Prompto’s problems too. Noctis can only squeeze closer to his best friend talking softly, trying to rub his hands and make him comfortable.(“I’m so sorry we took so long Prom, I’m so sorry.You’re safe now, we’ll protect you.”)

-Prompto also keeps asking Ignis if he’s alright and touches his face to be sure. He’s glad Ignis is safe but the advisor doesn’t understand what warranted the worry for him? After the chaos in Altissia they were so scared until Regis and the Kingsglaive had arrived and it was a disaster Luna does not want to revisit.

-Ignis tries to get him to rest but Prompto refuses, saying the voices of the dead are too loud and his body too wired from whatever energy crawling under his skin. He tries to smile but it makes them worry more. Prompto then pulls up his hand with the barcode under his glove, showing it to the boys. Apparently knowing you were to be an MT and actually looking at the evidence are two different things. Noctis gives zero shits and pulls in to hug his friend.He tells him now with Niflheim gone, they can tear down borders and reconnect the regions and he will need Prompto with them.

-”Ever at your side.”

-If there’s anything Luna has learned running around Eos with the boys, is that they are a set, they compliment each other.Sure, Gladiolus and Ignis may be duty bound to Noctis,occasional disagreements abound, but Prompto? He was just a sweet innocent soul in the middle of all this just wanting to help everyone.She remembers how he showed her his photos, and just him including her into the group during their journey. He embodied Life. (If it Prompto had never found Pryna, never wrote her letters?She might has lost her will by now.) 

-Regis and the others are still throwing out orders (“And throw out the crests while you are all at it! I refuse to see that overgrown lizard adorning our guards’ uniform!”) Before they settle down for whatever rations they could spare for everyone.

-Its obvious 3 generations of Lucis Caelums are trying to ignore the Catoblepas in the room.Who wants to address the tension in their first family dinner of cold beans and preserved jerky together?Not them.Nope.Gonna avoid this while they can.

-Cor is trying not to hover, but the fact that his son can’t eat or drink is worrisome and he’s just so helpless watching him getting weaker.Prompto is only upset the 2 beads in his braid from Nyx are gone during his time in the Keep,Nyx takes out one of his own and braids a little one behind his ear.While watching Prompto grow weaker and convulsing painfully in between, everyone seems at a loss on how to help either.

-“Has anyone of you thought that maybe its his body that is not coping?Considering we just destroyed the Goddess’ heart…is it possible the powers in the crystal has returned to its owner?A vessel that can’t controls what flows within would be like a ticking bomb.” Ardyn munches on his beans mindlessly.The group turns to stare at the First King thoughtfully.Its clicks, before they begin to panic.

- Prompto knows nothing of magic. Etro didn’t use any except for that one protect spell either.The Lucis Caelums and glaives just wing it and find the most comfortable method for each of them. And mostly the Armiger, nothing so raw and pure as divine magic.And Etro’s? No body knows the ways of her magic anymore.And they aren’t about to ask the Astrals who murdered her certainly.

- It was Luna, seeing how her friend is suffering so quietly, who finally steps up and holds onto Prompto, calming him like the healer she is (was?). She tries to guide him in what she knows, how to channel the energy flowing inside.It isn’t much but it keeps her friend calm.Luna may no longer be the Oracle but she can help her friend.That she can do.Baby steps. Prompto saved her from suffering from her solitude when she was young. Its her turn now.(“Sorry Luna, I’m being a burden now-“”Hush,focus Prom!You are doing wonderfully.”)

-Ardyn taking the backseat and commenting lil quips on how Prompto should do though is annoying.Annnd he’s back to his usual annoying self.( “Do kids these days don’t listen to their elders anymore!Breathe and let it flow!No!Do not be stubborn, oh don’t let him do that!” )

-“What about…Her shrine?”Nyx finally turns Cor after thinking deeply.”Shrine?You mean there’s one?In-” “Galahd,yes.Well,more like ruins but…spiritual elders often say that there were Oracles of Etro once.They originated from there.Maybe it will help?” It sounds so stupid once he finishes, because what good would ruins do?

-However, Regis makes an argument.They need to head out to regroup anyway, Galahd is on the way to Lucis,if it helps them in securing Etro’s powers to go up against Bahamut then its a chance they must take. They have nothing left to lose at this point. To meet with the Galahdians to make amends and join forces against the darkness would be a win too.

-Arenea can’t leave but she lends them her ship. Ravus stays behind with Pelna and Crowe leading the forces there, Dustin and Monica are still in Lestallum with another army.Ravus hands her a pole arm.Simple,but will serve its purpose.He promises Luna they meet again in Insomnia to fight for the freedom of their cursed duty.A stiff acknowledgement from him to Regis, they did help in liberating Tenebrae after all. The Nox Fleuret are ready to began anew. _._._ PART 4 HERE