#i physically cannot wait 3 more days for his plush to arrive i need it NOW

[filbosstalker]

filb of the day

[siren-dragon]

1,001 Lucian Nights -- Somnus x F!reader fanfiction (Ch.5)

Oh my gosh, it’s a chapter update! I know it’s been over a year since I posted, but I kinda lost a bit of interest in the FFXV (the alternate ending makes me confused and isn’t my favorite). Anyway, I decided to finish this story thanks to @LuminaReal on AO3 convincing me to continue. So here is chapter 5! Also, if anyone would like me to do art for this just let me know.

WARNING: there is a mature curse in this chapter

Tagging: @maty-yami

AO3 - story link

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

The first thing you were able to register was the warmth that caressed your skin as you were slowly pulled from unconsciousness and rejoined the land of the living. Squinting at the brief assault the sunlight brought upon your senses, you sat upright from your simple bed and glanced outside the small window that resided to your right as you mentally reviewed the previous night’s events. You recalled Gilgamesh escorting you back to the Oracle’s chambers where your mistress lay resting upon the chaise; having attempted to wait for your return. Once you and the King’s Shield had awoken Lady Selene and managed to calm her unease, both of you decided to retire for a long-awaited rest. The exhaustion you felt not only from the evening’s harrowing experience but the previous night as well was so great, you barely registered Gilgamesh taking his leave as sleep overcame you mere moments after your head fell upon the plush pillow.

Yet now you sat awake with a far more refreshed mind-set after the small reprieve. The idea that Somnus was more or less robbed of such a simple yet principal pleasure made you marvel at how the black-haired king had managed so far. Truth be told, he has not. You thought ruefully, gently rubbing your wrist which was now bound by a fresh cloth; masking the dark purple hand-print bruise and subsequent sprain you gained from Somnus’… displeasure. While you did extend a bit of sympathy toward the young Lucis Caelum’s ailment, you could not help the brief vexation and fear that rippled within your mind at his actions. Of course, there was no denying the sliver of gratitude you felt, after all; it could have been your neck bearing the bruise instead….

“I should not hold my breathe on that account, if I cannot continue my stories, I may find myself receiving such a mark.” You spoke aloud softly, moving quickly to dress for the day.

As you exited your small bedchamber and entered the Oracle’s personal sitting rooms, you were surprised to find not the Speaker for the Gods herself, but rather the young servant girl Ceres instead. The adolescent girl jumped in surprise at your sudden appearance, bowing respectfully to you, “L-Lady (f/n), you should be resting! Her Ladyship the Oracle said to-“

“It is quite alright Ceres, and there is no need for titles; I am merely a handmaiden, not a noble of the court.” You corrected kindly, glancing around the sitting room in search of the Oracle, “Lady Selene is not here, is she?”

“No, my La- I mean, (f/n). She left to perform blessings and asked that you not be bothered so you may rest; she said you had a rather harrowing night.”

“I see… Ceres, would you mind doing me a small favor? I need you to deliver a note to someone within the bazaar; a Master Sidolfus.”

“The storyteller?” Ceres exclaimed in giddy delight, her enthusiastic reaction making you chuckle. It seemed the master storyteller’s fame continued to grow with each passing day.

“The very same. Please ensure that he receives this letter,” you replied, quickly scrawling out a short message upon a spare piece of parchment.

“You can count on me (f/n)!”

=============================================================

There were few pastimes that Somnus ever took part in, but falconry was the one he held most dear. It was the sole avocations he and his mother had shared before her death- the late Lady Rhea Lucis Caelum having been a great admirer of animals, birds especially. He remembered once as a child trying to lift the falcon his mother had held so effortlessly upon her slender arm, only to shake and tremble under the fowl’s heavy weight while it crowed angrily at him for being an unsteady perch. Now he barely took notice of the bird’s presence upon his hand, having grown accustom to the falcons residing upon his hand or shoulder.

“I thought you would be here.” A voice spoke, accompanied by the sounds of moving fabric and the clink of metal upon stone.

“May I ask what brings you here, your Ladyship? I doubt it is to observe the crafting of a falcon hood.” Somnus asked, showcasing the small, half-finished leather hood he was currently sewing.

A rather sheepish expression briefly flittered across the blonde’s face. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I did not think myself to be so transparent. But you are correct, my motive for being here is more than mere socialization between friends.”

“I take it this is in regard to your handmaiden, (f/n).” Somnus shot back before turning to face the blonde Oracle.

Clad in full regalia with trident in hand, the blonde priestess looked as if she were a divine being herself; descending upon the mortal realm to invoke her will, though she possessed a polite smile rather than the cold indifference often seen upon the Messengers of the Astrals. Somnus knew many of the nobles believed Selene to be a little naïve and gullible due to the kindness she displayed to any who sought blessings from the Oracle but that could not be further from the truth. Beneath her sweet disposition was an intelligent and fearless leader ready to fulfill her calling despite being a second choice. And Somnus knew more than anyone that the Oracle was an individual not to be trifled with.

“Indeed,” Selene answered, resting the bottom of her trident upon the marble floor. “Your Majesty…. regardless of what you choose to believe, you are my friend and I do care greatly about your safety, as does Gilgamesh. That would be why I was supportive of (f/n)’s assistance regarding your insomnia and night-terrors. However, that young woman is not only my handmaiden, but my dear friend as well. Which is why I am curious as to how she received a bruise upon her wrist in the shape of a man’s hand last night.”

The Lucian sovereign flinched briefly at the sharpening of Selene’s tone as if struck, “It was… a lapse of judgement Selene.”

“A lapse of judgement? You attacked a woman, Somnus. I know that you’ve been having a difficult time of late and I sympathize, but this is an action I cannot condone.”

“Then you should have your hand-maiden watch her tongue when speaking of matters she does not understand- “

“Somnus Lucis Caelum!” Selene snapped, crystal-blue eyes colder than the Ghorovas Rift, “I will not have you debase a woman who has been trying to help you out of nothing but the kindness in her heart, only to suffer physical harm! Now you will control your temper and act like the king you are, or I swear to Shiva you will be the first to face my skills with this trident!”

A tense silence fell between the two that seemed to stretch on for an eternity before Somnus nodded in understanding. “…. Forgive me, Selene. I- I have over-stepped my bounds.”

“I am not the one who needs to hear those words, Somnus.”

Without another word, Selene exited the aviary, leaving the thoroughly disciplined king to his thoughts. Selene’s anger slowly flooded her mind as she proceeded to return to the East Wing while a sliver of guilt began to take its place. Perhaps she was a bit too harsh on Somnus, not to mention immature for having lost her own temper so easily when trying to teach her friend to reign in his own. Regardless, Selene only hoped that (f/n) was willing to continue with her meetings and that Somnus’ mental health did not deteriorate too far…

“Ah, Lady Selene! You look positively radiant this day, your ladyship. I wondered, perhaps, if I could discuss a rather growing concern with you?”

The young Oracle bit her lip and said a silent prayer for strength to the Astrals before turning to face the individual who had addressed her, polite smile on her lips. “Thank you, Lord Aldercapt, you are too kind. How can I assist you this day? Is something wrong?”

=============================================================

You were glad to see that Ceres was successful in her task as Sidolfus arrived not long after you yourself at the small but private eatery not too far from the Citadel. And much like your previous encounter, the elderly man was more than happy to have accepted the invitation for a meeting; likely knowing you were eager for advice. “Greetings Lady (f/n), it is wonderful to see you once more.”

“Likewise, Master Sidolfus, I am glad you were able to come.”

The older storyteller chuckled, “well, your messenger was quite insistent that I accept your invitation. A rather spit-fire of a girl you have there.”

“Oh dear, I do hope Ceres wasn’t too… erm, passionate about my request.” You frowned, the slight embarrassment you felt tinting your face pink with blush.

“Not at all! If anything, that girl gave me some inspiration for another story of mine. And speaking of stories, I assume you asked me here for assistance with your own fables. Tell me Lady (f/n), how have your tales been received by your nobleman patron?”

“Far better than I had hoped, but he is not as enraptured as I would have wished. I managed to finish my current story and spoke of beginning another the previous night, but I am not quite sure how to hold his focus…until I recalled your own tale.”

“Ah, you are speaking of my encounter with Death,” Sidolfus replied knowingly, gently blowing the steam from his cup of tea before taking a tentative sip.

You nodded, “yes, you mentioned you had meet him once before.”

“I did not meet him, I passed him on the streets of Altissia- but only for a moment. I had told a close friend what had happened, and he said… that he too had seen Death too and that Death had given him a horrible look. He was so frightened that he was leaving for Caem that very night.” Sidolfus answered, his eyes bearing an intense focus as he recounted his tale to you, as if he were speaking of an event that had occurred merely hours ago.

“…And?” you questioned, eager to learn more of the storyteller’s fable.

It was then that Sidolfus allowed a small smirk to twist at his lips, knowing full well that his tall-tale had already claimed your attention. “Another time perhaps. You must learn how to keep your audience in suspense Lady (f/n). But you must ensure that he does not know what is to happen next.”

“Truth be told, even I am not aware of what will happen next,” you admitted honestly, not quite sure if you were referring to your story or the continuation of your meetings with the king.

You spent the remainder of the time speaking a bit more with Sidolfus before taking your leave, knowing full well that Lady Selene would likely send out a squadron of glaives to locate you. Quickly you hurried back toward the East Wing to continue with your chores but was surprised when the doors opened to reveal not only Lady Selene, but a nobleman accompanying her as well. “Please, will you not consider my proposal, Lady Oracle. We only wish to secure the continuation of this kingdom.”

“Lord Aldercapt,” Lady Selene answered with polite grace despite the irritation that reflected within her ice-blue eyes. “I understand your concerns and I am ever grateful for you placing the needs of the people above all else. But from what I have seen, I do not believe his Majesty to be incapable of performing what duties he has been charged with by divine providence.”

“The council is fully aware of His Majesty’s prowess and skill, my Lady- he has done admirably despite the heavy burden placed upon him. But one cannot help the concern felt as to whether or not the king can continue his duty as sovereign with his current health. Should his Majesty’s constitution continue to decline…. we will be forced to act; regardless of divine providence.”

“Those are treasonous words you speak,” you quietly interrupted, unable to mask your outrage at the old man’s cruel murmurs and causing both Selene and the old man to face you.

The old nobleman swiftly turned his gaze to you; his dark blue, nearly black eyes reminded you eerily of a deep abyss glaring coldly at you in cold fury at your sudden appearance. He took in your simplistic attire and stared down at you with a withered sneer as if you were nothing more than a mere insect beneath his boot. “And who are you to interrupt private conversations? I believe servants are taught to hold their tongue, are they not.”

You flushed briefly in shock and anger at the man’s cruel words but was halted from retaliating with an aggressive response when Selene came to your aid. “Lord Aldercapt, I would kindly ask you to please refrain from insulting members of my staff.”

“Your… staff?” The ivory-haired man looked at you with an expression of surprise until it morphed into an oily smile that barely hid the displeasure in the nobleman’s eyes. The falsified expression sent a cold chill of unease down your spine as if the Glacian herself had frozen your very bones. You did your best to keep your expression neutral; though the nobleman’s twisted smile made the task nearly impossible. “Forgive me, your Ladyship; I was not aware this…girl served our dear and beloved Oracle. Tell me, who might you be?”

“Permit me to introduce my handmaiden and dear friend: (f/n).”

“At your service, sir.” You replied stiffly, your bow of greeting barely low enough to be considered polite.

Whether or not Lord Aldercapt took notice of your lack of courtesy, he did not care to comment and instead turned his gaze back to Selene. “Please consider my words, your Ladyship, for the good of all.” He bowed graciously to the Oracle and tossed you another venomous but subtle glare before disappearing back down the empty corridor and out of the East Wing of the Citadel. Once Lord Aldercapt had proceeded out of sight and earshot Selene released a heavy sigh of relief while you continued glaring down the corridor at where the aristocrat once stood.

“That man makes me uncomfortable.” You spoke, at last relaxing once more with the return of privacy.

Selene frowned, “I did not think Lord Aldercapt would speak so directly regarding Somnus' ailments. This is rather unsettling….”

“Would he and the other lords really try to contend with the Will of the Gods regarding his Majesty’s throne?”

“Not all of the council heed Aldercapt's honeyed words, but I would be lying if I said he had no sway over the other nobles. I do not believe they would be foolish enough to contend against Somnus and myself directly… but the hearts of men are often blinded by material vices.” The Oracle sighed before turning a questioning gaze onto you, “but it seems that issue is not the only concern I have.”

“Oh? What might the others be?”

“For starters, would you care to explain why you arrived back with a bruise upon your wrist so severe it caused a sprain.” Selene questioned with narrowed eyes.

You swiftly turned your gaze downward and bit your lip in thought, knowing there was truly no use lying to your friend. “It was merely an accident, my Lady, nothing more.”

“And I suppose the man whose hand it bares the shape of meant no offense.” Selene added sharply, her words causing you to flinch ever so slightly. “(F/n)… perhaps it would be best if you stopped meeting with Somnus.”

“I will not try to fool you Lady Selene and say His Majesty is merely a misunderstood and tragic man. He is cold, rude, stubborn, possesses' a foul temper, and carries a well of secrets greater than any sinner; but he is a good man. One that needs more help than he realizes.”

Selene frowned, “as Oracle and the mistress you have chosen to serve, you have my deepest gratitude for choosing to continue with this task (f/n). But as your friend… I am concerned that you or Somnus may get hurt from this endeavor. However, you asked for my trust in this matter and so I shall continue to give it. I will not interfere….for now.”

You smiled brightly and bowed respectfully toward Selene, “I am at a loss for words my Lady but, thank you.”

The blonde answered your show of gratefulness with a matching smile before continuing down the corridor of the West Wing with you fast on her heels. “Now then, I must speak with Gilgamesh in regards to Lord Aldercapt and the rest of the Council, I sense there may be more than mere nightmares working against the King. I shall leave His Majesty’s health to you; I trust you’ve a tale in mind for your next meeting?”

It was then that a look of amusement flittered across your face, though the determination in your (e/c) eyes burned brightly. “Yes… I believe I do.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As day turned to night, and the brilliance of the sun was replaced by the illumination of flame from every candle and brazier, you found yourself being escorted once more by Lord Gilgamesh toward the King’s chambers. Similarly, to the previous evenings, the tall warrior beside you remained silent; but for once you were glad for the quiet as it allowed you to collect your thoughts as you sub-consciously rubbed the bandage about your wrist and hand. “My lady, we have arrived,” Gilgamesh gently placing a hand upon your shoulder; causing you to jump as you returned to the present.

“Y-Yes, thank you Lord Gilgamesh.”

“Lady (f/n), while I admire your courage in continuing with this task; there is no shame in feeling fear.”

That caused you to pause as you turned to face the aged warrior, “… you do not think me foolish for fearing my own sovereign? Or cowardly wondering if this may end with my neck upon the headsman’s block.”

“No, my lady. Fear is an important aspect to possess as well as overcome. In battle, one may discover what their enemy fears most by the means he uses to frighten you. Such knowledge is crucial if one wishes survive against their combatant.”

“You believe I should treat the king as my enemy?” you asked, curious and surprised at his words.

“Is your life not in danger from this endeavor?” Gilgamesh replied, a brief teasing smile tugging at his lips at your disbelief. “You have seen Somnus through all manner of emotions over the course of the past few nights that only a handful of individuals have and that knowledge can aid you. What I am saying Lady (f/n)… is that it may not be you who is the one that is truly afraid.”

You pondered the swordsman’s words as he moved to knock heavily upon the door and opening it when the king’s familiar voice muttered a muffled, “enter.” Nodding your head in thanks to Gilgamesh, you entered the expansive quarters while the door closed behind you like the bars of a prison cell. Across the room the king stood waiting for you as you approached. “Good evening, your Majesty,” you greeted as you bowed politely.

“Yes… good evening Lady (f/n).”

Those words certainly caught you off guard, the kind greeting causing you to immediately look toward the ebony-haired man. For once the harsh lines around Somnus’ face seemed to have softened with the lack of the usual sour expression that seemed to have permanent residence upon his face, making him look far younger. His arms were crossed as his dark-blue eyes seemed to avoid your own as his left foot seemed to shuffle back and forth in the slightest of movements as if he wanted to race away; giving the king the appearance of a young boy who had been caught stealing sweets and forced to confront the shop-keep. After what felt like an eternity he let his eyes shift briefly toward you, glancing at the bandage wrapped about your wrist and hand; causing a micro-expression of regret to flitter across his face so quickly, you would have believed you imaged it were it not for Somnus’ next words.

“I do hope you are well enough to continue your tales, Lady (f/n).”

You stared at him with a look of pure confusion, one that he noticed and caused him to immediately growl in anger and turn sharply away. Did he… Did he just inquire about my health? Is this about my injury?

“Y-Yes sire, I am well; thank you for your inquires.” You responded awkwardly, unused to the strange pleasantries the two of you were exchanging.

“Good. I do hope the… the fool who has caused such an offense has asked your forgiveness. Though none would fault you if you choose to withhold such a privilege due to this man’s actions toward you; as they were nothing short of cruelty.”

If this wasn’t a serious apology from the King of Lucis himself, you may have laughed at the look of nervousness and embarrassment on Somnus’ face. His face had contorted due to his expression of anger, but it was less cold and severe than you had previously witnessed; which caused it to appear pouty and brooding. You tried to fight down the giggles that threatened to spill from your mouth by biting your lip and smiling brightly at the proud king who seemed to have been chastised by another to give this rather humiliating and unusual apology. You briefly wondered if this was what Gilgamesh meant by the king experiencing fear; perhaps beneath it all he was just as frightened as you were. Well, you supposed it was time to overcome your fear and give the poor man a chance… but only a chance.

“I believe he has earned my forgiveness… for the time being. But one can not be too careful, another incident may leave him with a proper scolding.”

His eyes quickly shot up to meet your own, surprised at your acceptance of his apology and playful teasing of his behavior. There was no need for outright proclamations or tearful confessions of ‘I’m sorry’, he was too stubborn for that and you wished not to have a bold statement spoken in false tones if he did say those words. But you both understood what one was trying to convey and knew that such words have returned you both to even playing fields. He smirked as midnight blue eyes sparked with mischief as the golden-orange glow of the braziers danced across his pale face. “Oh? And I suppose you will inflict this scolding yourself? And just what might such an action entail… Lady (f/n).”

You prayed to every Astral there was Somnus did not see the rose shade of blush that suddenly crept up your face at his less-than innocent innuendo. Though judging by the growth of the smirk on his lips, you were not so fortunate. “Perhaps that will be a story for another time, your Majesty.”

“I look forward to it.” He spoke as he settled upon the plush pillows and soft rug within the sitting area, the small table already laden with refreshments and the dim glow of candlelight. “Now… I trust you will continue your unfinished tale.”

“Yes sire, I shall continue.” You answered, settling across from him against the lush furnishings.

============================================================

‘As the crowd was leaving the courtroom, the most famous magician in Galahd, Glauca, passed by on his way to Tenebrae. He was a rather intimidating yet charismatic man with piercing blue eyes and a gravelly voice that could command anyone into performing his bidding. When he came into a room, the Sabertusks jumped on chairs…. But he is not the hero of this story.

‘And who is that?’ Somnus asked.

‘Um… Erebus- no.’ You muttered, trying to think of a name as images of your character flashed through your mind. Young, old, tall, short, male, female, blonde, redhead, and brunette all swirled about within your head until the image began to emerge and become clear.

‘Nyx… Nyx Ulric.’

  “NO!” a brunette man with dark-blue eyes and unshaven face cried out in despair as the chocobo’s raced down the track, with a particularly vibrant orange one claiming victory and with it, his money. Cheers or shouts of outrage that echoed all across the pavilion of the races from what seemed to be every gambler within the vicinity. It was clear to see by the worn and dirty tunic he wore that his social status was not one of wealth, though not uncommon in the sprawling coastal city of Pagla; Tenebrae’s famed trading hub. The young man groaned as he jumped off the pile of crates, he had claimed to watch the outcome of his bet, only for another man- this one a bit more rotund than Nyx, to heave a heavy sigh as well.

“Ugh, that race was fixed Libertus!” Nyx exclaimed in outrage, while a few of those in the crowd they tried to move through agreed whole-heartedly.

Libertus laughed, “that’s no question; anyone could have seen that Nyx. It just goes to show that honesty doesn’t pay.”

“They could have been a bit more subtle about it. Tch, who picks orange anyway?” Nyx sighed before tossing a grin to his friend. “Guess it looks like we’ll have to get back to work, huh?”

“Looks that way, let’s go.”

Swiftly moving through the crowd, Nyx glanced about the sea of faces until he finally found the perfect target. A middle-aged man dressed in fine, silk with expensive accessories draped upon his hands and neck; strutting like a proud peacock amid the poverty of Pagla. Ensuring there were no royal guards patrolling the streets as one really didn’t want to be a guest within the dungeons, Nyx took action. He quickly bumped into the man, who stumbled and glared at him while haughtily turning away, not even noticing as Nyx quickly slipped his purse away from his belt with skill and ease. “Sorry, excuse me…” he muttered half-heartedly before claiming his prize and racing away.

“What? My purse- I’ve been robbed!”

“Hey, are you alright sir? Someone robbed you?” Libertus asked, immediately drawing the noble’s attention away from Nyx.

“Th-That rogue who bumped into me, he stole my money!”

“Umm, I think I saw where he went- this way, quickly!”

Unknown to both parties, a pair of cold blue eyes- like twin pieces of ice, watched the scene before him with intrigue. As the thief quickly raced away with his prize, the man couldn’t help but smirk, believing himself quite fortunate to have found just the person he needed….

When Nyx and Libertus met once more, after having found a safe place away from guards or their mark, they began to split their earnings. Both were far more pleased to find that the man carried a decent amount of money that would tide them over for a time. As the last gil was finally split, a loud shout of angry voices and squabbling of chocobos began to fill the air as people stampeded away from a small battalion of guards escorting what looked to be an elegant carriage; a rare sight in the less-refined region of the city and likely the result of poor directions.

“Who’s in a coach that needs that large of an escort?” Libertus scoffed, unimpressed by the obvious display of wealth.

Nyx shrugged but curiosity got the better of him as he grinned to his friend, “no idea; but let’s find out.”

“And deal with all those guards? Hell no.”

“Come on, we’ll take the rooftops to leave. Besides, you love messing with guards.”

Libertus groaned, knowing there was no use arguing with Nyx once his mind was made up. “Fine, let’s do this before they leave. And if we end up spending a week in the dungeon, I’m blaming you.”

Together the two men hurried closer to the carriage, careful to avoid the eyes of the guards until they were crouching behind an abandoned wagon filled with Cartanica Melons. Keeping an eye on the carriage and waiting till it was closer, Nyx and Libertus heaved the wagon upward, causing the fruit within to sprawl across the dirt street and startle the chocobos while halting the carriage. The guard escort soon realized their charge was now stranded while the two thieves quickly moved to leave the scene. Yet as Nyx was moving to climb onto the rooftop, the small window of the carriage slowly opened and he felt himself freeze as his eyes met the those of the passenger.

Inside the carriage was a young woman, her skin pale and fair while her lips were a pale pink and a bit wide; but it only complimented her heart-shaped face. Though she appeared to be wearing a small headdress; Nyx could see dark blue flowers and shinning pearls twisted into her blonde hair- which only showcased that whoever she was she was certainly wealthy. But what caused Nyx to pause as the rest of the world faded away from his mind was her eyes- a shade of bright blue that caused the color of the sky to appear dull and lifeless by comparison; eyes that were currently locked upon his own showing only curiosity and kindness dancing in their depths.

“Who is that?” He asked softly, lost as if in a trance.

Libertus frowned, looking briefly at the person who had stolen Nyx’s attention, “oh, it’s Princess Lunafreya; she’s Queen Sylva’s daughter. I heard she’s quite kind-hearted, but apparently it’s nothing compared to her beauty- guess the rumors were true there.”

Nyx could barely hear Libertus talking as he continued to hold the princess’ gaze, who offered him a small smile that caused Nyx to only grin. She’s beautiful….

“Nyx… Nyx… Nyx! We’ve got to go!” Libertus called, pulling his love-struck friend up toward the roof as the guards began to give chase.

After being harshly returned to the reality of their situation, Nyx reluctantly turned away from the divine beauty of the young woman and quickly followed Libertus away from the guards as they raced across the rooftops. Within the carriage, Lunafreya watched the scene in awe and with a small laugh as the guards attempted to give chase. “My Lady, are you alright?” her attendant asked.

“Yes, I am fine. I was just… saying hello to a friend.” She smiled, wondering if she’d ever meet the young man again as the carriage continued onward.

Nyx quickly vaulted over a stone railing onto an abandoned rooftop, having split from Libertus to avoid tails before meeting again, only to see he was not alone. Standing across from him with his arms crossed and a smug, knowing look upon his face was a man a fair bit older than himself clad in well-worn traveling clothes. “What the- where the hell did you come from?” He asked guardedly, surprised that the man had seemed to appear from out of nowhere; an action that placed Nyx on high-alert.

“From the other side of the world: Galahd.” The man replied dryly, moving his hand in an half-hearted movement to mockingly convey wonder into his words. “and stay calm Nyx Ulric, do I look like one of the royal guards?”

“I am calm, and how do you know my name.”

“I was a friend of your late father, my name is Glauca.”

Nyx raised a skeptic eyebrow at the proclamation, “I didn’t know he had any…”

“Very few: just me.” Glauca laughed, “your father, he was so crooked he could hide in the shadow of a corked screw.”

The two remained silent, as if sizing each other up before Nyx grinned widely; “you did know him. So, why are you here looking for me and not him?”

“I wish to discuss business with you that requires your unique skillset in the art of thievery.”

“I assume this business you’re offering of the shady variety?”

Glauca nodded, “shady, shifty, and shadowy business. But… very profitable.”

Though he wished it took him longer to ask to show his trepidation with the offer; the word ‘profitable’ had immediately caught Nyx’s attention as he spoke. “What do I have to do then?”

“Meet me tomorrow outside the city gates at dawn. And here, consider it a token of my faith in you, do not keep me waiting.” Glauca then retrieved a small, but heavy purse from within his robe and tossed it to Nyx; who caught it deftly and opened to revel in the plentiful amount of gil within. He then looked up to thank Glauca, only to find the man gone.

============================================================

Despite his unsavory career choice as a thief, Nyx was never one to be obscenely greedy. He grew up with practically nothing, only to gradually lose everything as his parents and sister died one by one; which is why he strived to share his ill-gotten loot with those in similar circumstances. That often caused many to call him the rogue with ‘a heart of gold’ but Nyx preferred to see it as just simple kindness; after all, he could take care of himself and get by fine- not everyone had that luxury.

Making his way toward the humble and decaying building that was his home, he waved hello to Crowe. Unlike Libertus and Nyx, Crowe was not necessary a thief but a fence for their ill-gotten goods and friend who roomed with them. The brown-haired and brown-eyed girl held such a simple appearance that it often caused no one to glance her way, if Libertus’ overprotective nature didn’t stop them first. Indeed, Crowe’s true skill laid in being unseen and the connections she carried; a true gift for a thief. “Looks like the Hero Thief has returned. So, how’d work go today Nyx? Libertus just got back.”

“See for yourself; and make sure to spend it all and give the food to the others, okay.”

Crowe gasped when she saw the amount of money inside, “By Ramuh’s balls Nyx, where the hell did you get this?! There’s got to be at least 1000 gil in here.”

“1200, actually. It’s a down-payment for a job I’m doing tomorrow.”

“1200 gil to start?” Libertus spluttered, biting one of the coins to ensure its authenticity and causing Nyx to roll his eyes. “That’s the first thing I did, you idiots.”

Libertus snorted, “hey, it doesn’t hurt to get a second opinion. So, who is the man that hired you for the job; 1200 gil is a ridiculous amount to pay? Hell, he could have had 3 men killed for that kind of money.”

“His name’s Glauca and he said he knew my dad. As for the job, I don’t know what it is yet but I doubt it’s anything like murder. And if it is, I’ll just back out.”

“And did you believe him about knowing your old man?” Crowe asked.

“No, but I did believe his money.”

“If he’s willing to pay the same amount or even more, I’d do whatever he says- the man is clearly loaded with coin.”

Crowe frowned, “just be careful alright? This job seems shady at best and I don’t think this Glauca man is the most trust-worthy of employers.”

“Trust me, everything will be fine- and profitable.”

Those words only caused Libertus and Crowe to laugh, “famous last words.”

 ‘And so, the following morning, Nyx and Glauca left the City of Pagla behind. He didn’t trust Glauca in the slightest, but when there was money involved… Nyx was prepared to take a few risks.’ You explained to your captive audience while Somnus only smirked as you continued.

 Leaving the still sleeping city of Pagla, the two men traveled upon Glauca’s chocobo south-east and further inland toward the mountains before allowing the bird to rest. As they continued on foot, Glauca finally began to explain the actual task of what the job entailed. “I don’t want to boast, but I’ve not met another who can match me in combat; magic to magic.”

Nyx had to withhold a snort of derision at the magician’s arrogant tone, “so why ask for my help if you’re so powerful.”

“All power has its limits, Nyx Ulric, which is why you are here. What I want is for you to retrieve a certain object that I cannot collect myself for reasons… too complicated to explain. It is due to the rules of magic; they are often tiresome, but must be obeyed without question.”

“So why did you choose me?”

Glauca laughed as he turned to face Nyx, “you did not believe I was a friend of your father?”

“Not for a moment, and stop avoiding the question.” Nyx shot back with a smirk.

“I choose you because you have larceny in your soul. Now, the task I wish you to undertake is this: I want you to go into a tomb, retrieve an old amulet, and bring it back to me.”

“A tomb? What tomb?”

“Right here,” Glauca spoke, waving his hand at the site before them.

Nyx watched in as they came to a halt beside the base of river where a magnificent waterfall cascaded down the mountain side. Crystal, clear water danced across the rocky shoreline while on the other side of the river a herd of wild chocobos were drinking or resting in the shade of the sparse trees that dotted the area. The small batch of wilderness looked far too picturesque to hold something as morbid as a tomb. However, when Glauca waved his hands the shoreline soon began to split as earth and stone rumbled and groaned to reveal a dark enclosure beneath their feet. “How much are you paying me to do this?” Nyx asked, suddenly very weary of whatever was down in that dark abyss.

“2000 gil,” Glauca replied a bit smugly.

“Please, don’t insult me! And don’t ask me to trust you, thieves trust no one… 5000 gil or no deal.” Nyx countered.

Glauca frowned at the rogue’s attempt to haggle, but shrugged and relented nonetheless. “Done, here’s half.”

Nyx stared a gapped at amount of money Glauca easily parted with as he hurried after him. “Wait! You gave me this too easily, no one would ever do something like that- you’re not telling me everything!”

“I gave you the money, now do your job rogue. And here, take this with you.” Glauca added, taking Nyx’s hand and slamming looked to be a small, wooden charm bearing the shape a fox, which was painted in a pale blue that beheld a soft glow in the sunlight. The simplistic design nearly made Nyx believe a child had made crafted the charm were it not for the small horn on the fox’s forehead that appeared to be an actual ruby. “Consider this a small precaution, simply rub the charm if any trouble or complications should arise.”

“Trouble? What sort of trouble, 5000 gil is not enough if there is going to be problems!”

“A deal is a deal, so off you go. And do not try to betray me or I swear by Garuda’s feathers, you will never see your wedding day.” Glauca snapped, gesturing to the chocobo they had ridden here on.

Nyx frowned and looked at the bag of money and fox charm in his hand before tying the charm about his wrist and pocketing the money as he moved to the edge of the cavern entrance. He took a deep breath and soon jumped, landing skillfully upon the start of a stone staircase descending further down into the tomb. Looking back up to see Glauca nodding for him to continue with less than encouraging words of, “go on now,” Nyx slowly began to climb further and further into the cavern.

 ‘Nyx didn’t know the extent of trouble he was getting himself into, if he had he wouldn’t have taken the 5000…’ You spoke before you gave a soft laugh, “On the other hand, he probably would have.’

 The deeper Nyx climbed into the cavern, the colder the air became. It was not long after his descent that he was able to see his breath appear as heavy, white clouds before his face while his flesh soon began to shudder from the frigid cold. As he moved to take another step, his foot soon slipped which caused a foul curse to slip through his lips as he slid down the last three rungs of the ancient stairwell until he fell into a heap upon the cavern floor. “Damn it, what the hell was that- wait… is that ice?” Nyx spoke aloud, staring in bewilderment at the sight that lay before him.

The cavern certainly was large, expanding at least fifteen feet above his head before continuing on into naught but darkness. Before the young thief laid an elaborate and elegant stone antechamber, leading up a small carved staircase surrounded by empty braziers and statues of monstrous beasts’ Nyx had never seen before all frozen in mid strike as if they were to descend upon him at any moment. Against the far wall that lay before him was an expansive corridor that continued further into the cavern; yet the strangest aspect of all was the fact that the entire tomb seemed to be encased in ice. The clear, blue crystal seemed to wrap around every surface like twisted claws trying to consume everything it touched in the cold bite of winter.

“What in the hell is this place?” He muttered, shivering slightly as he slowly approached the entrance as he observed the ice that was currently wrapped about a particularly life-like statue of what bore similar resemblance to a Skarnbulette. “The sooner I find that amulet, the sooner I can leave. Looks like I’ll have to head further inside.”

Rifling through the brazier, which was comprised of nearly fossilized wood, Nyx quickly took a stone and drew one of his daggers and moved the rock across the blade’s edge. When the sparks finally caught and smoke began to emerge, he quickly cultivated the embers until at long last a flame emerged providing much welcomed warmth and light. Taking hold of the torch, Nyx continued onward through the antechamber and down into the open corridor; the unease he felt causing his grip upon his dagger to tighten until his knuckles turned white. More statues stood as silent guardians in their prisons of ice as he walked further before the corridor expanded into a large, circular room with a timeworn sarcophagus resting on a raised dais in the center of the room; surround by four empty braziers. However, Nyx was more than surprised to see that the ice seemed to only begin where the dais ended; leaving the sarcophagus completely untouched.

“5000 was definitely not enough,” he sighed heavily as he quickly moved toward the coffin, moving around a looked to be a frozen coeurl. “There it is, thank Bahamut.”

Atop the lid of the sarcophagus looked to be a damaged and worn carving of a feminine figure, though clasped within the statue’s outstretched hands laid a small ebony amulet with a dull, golden interior and small, dull glass snowflake set within the center hanging from a thin leather strap. Nyx frowned upon the obviously mediocre piece of jewelry and immediately moved to claim his objective for his bout of tomb-robbing.

“This is it? You’d at least think there’d be a real diamond with a tomb this size. Alright, time to get the hell out of here and get the rest of the money-“

CRACK!

Nyx halted in his examination of the simplistic amulet, blood draining from his face as he slowly turned to the source of the sound that still echoed gently throughout the still chamber. The coeurl statue he had walked past previously had remained still as before… but the ice encompassing the figure held a large and vicious crack within the crystalline surface. With torch in hand and his dagger within the other, the skilled rogue expertly approached the disturbed statue as tense as a bow string. Raising the torch higher to observe the statue, Nyx could see firelight illuminating the smaller cracks appearing within the icy surface surrounding the beasts head until they suddenly stopped.

“What is going on? Alright Nyx, you’re just being paranoid- it’s best time to leave.” He chuckled softly to himself, though he refused to loosen his grip upon his weapon.

And then the statue’s eye opened, reveling a slit pupil amid a green iris.

“Fuck!” Nyx shouted, quickly jumping back as the sound of ice cracking filled the entire chamber. A loud roar could be heard from the now animated coeurl statue as the ice binding it in place began to shatter and crumble.

Scrambling to his feet in panic Nyx quickly raced out of the chamber and down the corridor as glacial stalactites dropped from the darkness above. All around him the statues within the chamber began to shudder and quake, more than desiring to chase the thief in their midst. Heavy footsteps soon approached as Nyx quickly glanced back to see the stone coeurl giving chase after its escaping prey. Swiftly Nyx evaded a swipe of rock claws from his adversary, the beast managing to tear part of his tunic but leave him unscathed. He blocked another strike with his dagger and slammed the torch into the beast’s face before racing away- the fire doing little to damage the monster.

“Come on, quickly!” Nyx berated himself as he managed to step back upon the staircase toward the entrance, only to feel the stone sliding beneath his feet as it began to pull back into cavern’s wall. “What- oh come on!”

Doubling his speed and climbing the steps as quickly as he could, Nyx rushed up toward the exit and with it- safety. His fingers hurriedly grabbed onto the last step that remained intact, causing him to haul himself up on the platform as he panted heavily from exertion. He was safe… for the moment.

“Nyx! Do you have it? Do you have the amulet?” Glauca called from above, elation coloring his tone.

The brunette thief sighed heavily before reaching into his pocket and showcasing the amulet from its leather tie held tightly within his fist. Glauca grinned in triumph as he reached down with his hand extended, “hand it up to me; it will make it easier for you to get out.”

“It’s no trouble, I can get out myself.” Nyx snapped, jamming the jewelry back into his pocket.

Glauca smiled, “pass it up to me, there’s a good lad.”

“Ha! I’m not a good lad.” Nyx called back angrily, “Do you truly believe I’m stupid enough fall for that old trick? You running off with your prize without paying me what I’m owed!”

“Give it to me now, or you’ll feel my wrath!” Glauca snarled.

“I’m angry already! After the monsters you sent me to deal with, you think I’d give you anything? If you want this necklace, you’ll get it AFTER you’ve held up your end of the deal.”

“You really think I’d ride off?

Nyx glared at the older man, “yes! You have shifty eyes!”

If Glauca was not angry before, he certainly was now- his face turning a vivid shade of plum as he growled angrily at his hired help. “You cheap, street FILTH!”

“I am not cheap!” Nyx protested irritably.

“I was going to raise you up and reward you; now you shall suffer for your transgressions! You wish for the amulet? Then keep it!” Waving his hands across the stone, the entrance soon began to diminish as the opening started to close, sealing Nyx within the cavern.

It only took a few moments afterward for Glauca to realize the foolishness of his actions as he groaned and slammed a fist against river’s rocky shore, startling his chocobo companion. “Damn it! Glauca, why must you always lose your temper? Why?!” He sighed heavily, his rage having left and leaving the sorcerer deflated. “At least that thief will suffer for his betrayal. Come Garuda, it’s time to go.”

Now sealed within the cavern with no means of escape, Nyx’s alarm at his current situation had increased ten-fold. Below him he could hear the roars of the tomb’s now animated statues, each one desiring to tear his flesh to shreds as they clawed at the bottom of the platform. Yet luck seemed not to favor the thief as a loud boom echoed throughout the chamber, causing the staircase to shake and begin to sink and lower slowly to the demanding beasts below. Nyx attempted to think of some method out of the danger he had thrown himself into when he unconsciously began to rub the small fox charm wrapped around his wrist.

 ‘This was a crisis, a true catastrophe for Nyx Ulric,’ you related calmly, eyes glowing with barely concealed mirth as Somnus seemed to be on the edge of his seat as you continued your story.

‘So, what happened? How could a thief escape such machinations?’ He demanded; his curiosity dancing in the depths of his eyes despite his expression of disinterest.

You gave the Lucian King a knowing smile, ‘it is during such a crisis where all seems lost that powers beyond our own are required. In such despair… there is nothing more effective than magic, your Majesty.’

‘Magic…’ Somnus echoed quietly as his brow furrowed in confusion.

‘Yes, magic.’

 The small charm soon began to admit a bright light that illuminated the cave, blinding Nyx as he moved to shield his eyes before it vanished, allowing him see once more. Sitting before him on the stone platform was a small fox- though it resembled none that Nyx had ever seen in the wilderness or in the streets of Pagla. For one, this beast’s fur was a vibrant pale-blue shade that seemed to literally glow in the darkness of the cavern. Its fur was quite lush and silky in appearance, making the already large ears upon its head far greater in size while a small horn that seemed to be luminescent, crimson ruby protruded like a horn from the beast’s forehead. Nyx stared at the animal that yawned widely as he kneeled down to observe the creature in greater detail, though keeping his blade aloft incase it attacked. “W-Where did you come from?”

“You were the one to summon me, I thought you would already know that,” the fox replied in a high-pitched voice as its tail swished back and forth in a similar fashion to a temperamental cat. “Or perhaps you’re not that bright of a summoner.”

Nyx could only stare with shock at the fox that had replied to his question, mouth opening and closing in a manner rather similar to that of a fish. “I… You- You just talked.”

“Well, I am educated, so of course I talk.” The fox chortled, as if his verbal response was the most natural occurrence in the world. “Don’t tell me you summoned me from my sleep without intending to actually do anything. If so then I’ll be leaving now-“

“W-Wait! Don’t leave, please. I don’t even know who, or what the hell you are.”

“There is no need for your cursing. And as to who I am; I am the summon of that charm you have coiled about your wrist. Carbuncle, at your service; purveyor of my summoner’s desires. Now what do you wish for?” Its head tilted upward as the fox proudly puffed its small, furry chest out.

Before Nyx could even reply with another question as to what a Carbuncle even was, a loud roar and the crack of stone as the pillar they were standing upon began to slowly descend. Beneath them upon the frozen ground, the previously crystalized beast statues were clawing at the stone pillar eager to devour their trapped prey. Nyx released a torrent of curses while Carbuncle squeaked in alarm, it’s tail doubling in size as its fur stood on end.

“Sweet Bahamut, we’re going to die!” the fox squealed in distress as the bestial roars below grew louder at their gradual approach. Quickly, the fox Carbuncle scurried up Nyx’s leg and nestled atop his shoulders as the thief tried to balance his new passenger.

“Get off of me! And what do you mean purveyor, what are you- a genie or something?”

“Please, don’t insult me. I am far more powerful than some meager djinn.” Carbuncle grumbled, still attempting to hide from the monsters within the cavern as he moved from Nyx’s shoulders to his head. “Now, what is it you want. Hurry up human; I cannot do anything until you ask for it now what do you want!”

“What do you think I want?! I want to get the hell out of here!” Nyx exclaimed. And while he doubted the fox’s words about its supposed ‘wish-granting’, he was willing to try anything if he could escape alive and intact.

The fox bit his ear in warning, causing Nyx to yelp in surprise before jumping back onto the stone platform. “I, I, I, I, I! And what of me?! You cannot just summon me here and abandon me, you humans are ridiculous. ‘Get me out of here.’ ‘Take me home.’ ‘Please put me out, I’m on fire!’,” Carbuncle snapped back with its mocking words and turned away in a huff. “Just because you are my summoner doesn’t mean you can be rude and treat me as some slave. Have some curtesy.”

Nyx took one deep breath in an attempt to prevent himself from doing something rash to the fox before replying. “Fine, I’m sorry. Now will you PLEASE get us the hell out of here!”

By now, the platform had already reached the cavern floor and a pair of stone coeurls that had nearly claimed Nyx early snarled and raised their claws to swipe at their now vulnerable prey. Nyx immediately raised his dagger aloft in a vain attempt to block the attack while Carbuncle merely shook its fur out before the ruby on its forehead began to glow and bathe the pair in a bright glow. Within the next second the icy tomb was replaced by the beautiful waterfall that resided outside the tomb- with Nyx and Carbuncle both standing safely above the sealed entrance. The rogue stared about in a daze, adrenaline still racing in his veins while the blue-furred creature beside him yawned and tipped its head to him.

“And there you have it- safe at last and out of that dreadful tomb. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will take my leave. Farewell, Nyx Ulric.” And in another flash of bright light, the fox was gone within its wooden charm. Nyx stared down at the charm in his hand and breathed a sigh of relief before pocketing both it and the stolen amulet back into his tunic.

“Now how am I to get back to Pagla?”

 ==========================================================

“I don’t get it though,” Libertus spoke, looking at the amulet resting on the table between the three friends. “Why would Glauca ask you to get that piece of junk? It’s a little insulting for the best rogue in Tenebrae.”

After Nyx managed to beg for a ride back to the city by a passing shepherd, Libertus and Crowe were pleased to see he was safe until the rogue told his tale. After a lecture from Crowe about the dangers of taking random jobs from shifty strangers and Libertus ranting about pummeling Glauca if he ever saw him again, they all wondered why he would pay so much for something so plain. There were no jewels, embellishments, or anything of value decorating the simple trinket; if fact if Libertus and Crowe didn’t trust Nyx they’d have believed he nicked it from some 2-gil market stand.

Crowe frowned, “well it has to have some value or he wouldn’t go through the trouble. Plus, all that magic in the tomb that was protecting it makes me a little nervous. Spells like that aren’t exactly easy to perform and usually are only in place to guard against something dangerous.”

“He was rather angry when I didn’t give it to him,” Nyx replied, picking up the amulet to observe any details that would give the trio a clue to its purpose. “I think something written here but I can’t read it, hang on a moment….”

Wiping the smidge of dirt away the amulet began to give off a faint glow and an immediate chill filled the air that reminded Nyx horribly of the frozen tomb. Immediately he tossed the amulet away to the corner of their small hovel as fog and ice began appear around the discarded piece of jewelry. Libertus and Crowed quickly scrambled behind Nyx who had drew his dagger in defense as the temperature dropped and frost encompassed parts of their home. Through the growing fog a figure began to take shape, though it was much taller than the Carbuncle that Nyx had summoned in the cavern- in fact it looked to be taking on a far more humanoid shape. And as immediately as it had appeared, the fog and ice vanished to reveal what was perhaps one of the most beautiful women Nyx had ever seen. Her long ebony hair was darker than the night sky and clashed sharply yet beautifully with her pale skin and vivid crimson lips. Clad in black, gold, and ivory fabric woven into a robe-like dress Nyx had once seen from travelers of distant country in the marketplace, she had rather regal appearance. Her feet were bare of any shoes, but an elaborate anklet with bells gave soft chimes that sent an uneasy chill down Nyx’s back. The woman’s eyes remained closed but she turned to face them as if she and sent a piercing gaze toward the three with her sightless eyes.

‘Were you the one to bring me here, summoner.’ The woman spoke, her soft tone oddly gentle but hiding a rather sinister undertone. It reminded Nyx of a winter’s snowfall- lovely yet wrought with danger.

“Nyx… s-say something.” Libertus muttered, shoving his friend forward a little.

The younger rogue spluttered, “what? Why me?”

“You’re the one that stole that stupid amulet, so talk to her!” Crowe hissed, though staring fearfully at the other woman.

Giving a polite bow, as his experiences with Carbuncle taught Nyx to at least be respectful to any magic-wielding entity, he cleared his throat and spoke. “Good evening… ma’am.”

‘Fear not Nyx Ulric, I shall not harm you and your companions while you hold the title as my summoner. You may be at ease.’ The woman replied, settling onto a chair that seemed to conjure itself out of thin air.

Nyx blinked in surprise at the woman’s reassuring words. “I see… um, may I ask who you are?”

The woman raised a curious eyebrow at his question, ‘you summoned me yet know not who I am? They call me the Glacian, the Frostbearer, and Empress of Ice. But you… you may call me Gentiana, summoner. Now, what is it thou desire’s?’

“Desire? Are you going to grant his wishes or something?” Libertus asked, both he and Crowe a bit more relaxed now that the woman would cause them no harm.

‘Yes, I am.’

“Are you like that other summon Nyx mentioned? The Carbuncle?” Crowed added.

At the mention of the fox’s name, Gentiana’s smile dipped ever so slightly. ‘I see thou art acquainted with that… fox. While his powers are strong, they are nothing compared to my own.’ As she spoke, frost seemed to spread from where her foot tapped against the floor of the thieves’ home- as if the mention of the smaller summon irritated her.

“….Are you two related?”

‘No!... perhaps, I am not sure the tests were inconclusive,’ Gentiana sighed heavily.

“You mentioned you wanted to know my desires. What can you do?

It was here that Gentiana opened her eyes and let them fall upon Nyx. They were a dark shade of olive green but looked far colder than even the iced waters of the Ghorovas Rift. A small smile fell upon her lips as she settled her hands delicately in her lap and meet the trio with a knowing gaze and answered with one simple word.

‘Anything.’

===========================================================

“And that, was where it all began,” you spoke, giving a small yet sleepy smile. “Nyx Ulric, a rogue, son of a rogue, from a family of rogues found he could have anything his heart desired. All he had to do… was ask.”

Somnus remained silent as he let your words wash over him before shifting his gaze to you, eyes sparkling with excitement. “So? So! So, what did he ask for?” He asked, eagerly wishing to know more.

You had to resist the urge to chuckle at his oddly childish behavior and it caused a brief feeling of sorrow in your heart knowing you would have to cease your story lest you fell asleep mid-sentence. “We can safe that for tomorrow night, your Majesty.”

Delight quickly vanished as brief flash of anger took its place though disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Somnus immediately rose from his place among the various cushions and paced about the large bed chamber, rubbing a hand down his exhausted face. “But I wish to know now, not tomorrow night! You make your stories sound so wonderous with your wit, and charm, and beauty-“

“What does my beauty have to do with storytelling?” You asked, surprised by the sovereign’s choice of words.

It appeared not even Somnus himself realized he had said that, for he quickly halted his movements and turned to face you. “It is because if I lose interest for even a mere moment I must face those accursed nightmares yet when I turn to see your face, Lady (f/n)… and I find myself at ease from them.” His intense gaze causing a slight dust of blush to appear upon your cheeks. “Please, continue your tale.”

“Lord Somnus… I shall continue it tomorrow night.”

“I order you!” He snapped, frustrated with your refusal.

You frowned, “it would not be the same story if I was ordered to tell it.”

It seemed even the king noticed your growing anger, knowing he had pushed you too far. Somnus stared miserably at you and realized that despite his earlier apology, he had repeated his mistake that earned your ire; and that caused him more pain than the blasted nightmares ever did. “(f/n)… please continue your story. Please.”

You sighed, gently taking hold of his hand much to his shock, and guiding him toward his bed. Silently he complied with your wishes and eased into the soft blankets as sleep soon began to cloud his mind. “I am sorry (f/n), I truly am.”

“I know, sire.” You replied kindly, your earlier anger at his outburst gone.

“No, I meant… for everything.”

You remained silent for a brief moment as Somnus’ body relaxed and his breathing evened out- signifying his escape from the waking world. “I know what you meant, your Majesty.” You whispered softly, pushing back blue-black bangs from his eyes before rising from the edge of the bed. “Just wait till tomorrow night. Sweet dreams, Lord Somnus.” Blowing out the remaining candles you exited the room and found yourself being escorted once again by Gilgamesh toward Lady Selene’s chambers to rest.

[owlespresso]

Tremble, Duck and Weave / 3

months and more than 5000 words later— also on ao3. Thank you to TenkeyLess and Nightmist on ao3 for beta-ing this for me.

Your senses return to you in a sluggish crawl. First, it’s the invasive sunlight that creeps in through the window. Next, it’s the awful taste of sleep in your mouth. You groan in protest as the world drags you to wakefulness, the sheets twisting and shifting around your fidgeting form. It’s beyond tempting to roll back over and delve back into slumber, but hunger claws ravenous at your stomach, and—nearly every part of you aches.

Raubahn’s arm severs from his body, the crowd screams, the water splashes dank around your ankles. The musky sewer air burns the back of your throat as you leave your allies, your friends behind.

The sheer force of the memories rattle your eyes open, lurching into a rigid, seated position. Where is Alphinaud? Tataru? The rest of the Scions? Your gaze shoots frantically around the unfamiliar chambers, fingers fisted tight in the blankets. It’s a bedroom, that much is plain. The mattress creaks as you begin to shift, inching towards the edge of the bed. Your muscles scream in protest, drawing your gaze down to the bandages that cover your body like patchwork.

Your escape had been hard-won. Even after emerging from the sewers, you’d been accosted by a patrol of soldiers. Though you managed to defeat them with Alphinaud’s assistance…

“Ah. I see thou hast awoken,” The door creaks open. A tall, broad elezen slips nimbly into the rooms, his dark robes swishing with each coordinated motion. The pale morning sunlight casts a vibrant sheen across his waves of grey hair. His gaze is tender as it lands on you, roaming your body up and down. “Take care not to strain thyself. Thine injuries wert most severe when thou wert delivered to me. I am Urianger Augurelt, an astrologian under the employ of the Holy See.”

A quick glance out the window is all it takes to confirm it. The grand spires of Ishgard grate against the cloudy, grey sky. The dull stonework and steel that makes up most of the city seems to blend together the longer you look, your mind fogged and disoriented.

Only when he clears his throat do you snap back from your discombobulated state.

“Thank you. For helping me,” Thanking him is the least you can do, right? Still, you don’t relinquish your grip on the bunched blankets. Having something to clutch so tight helps soothe the anger and the grief. It’s an anchor to the physical while the mental is lost in a tumultuous storm of emotion.

“My condolences,” his voice is a soothing balm and sympathy renders his expression something soft. He’s beautiful, really. He cuts a sharp figure, though his imposing stature is made elegant by the gentle swish and sway of his robes, inky black cloth with gold embroidery… the transparent, veil-like mask hides the lower half of his face, and you can’t help but wonder what his lips look like. “The guards who brought thee to mine chambers gave me a brief summary of the tragedy that befell thee. Rest assured that thou art safe here.” he strides to your bedside, placing a glass of water atop the mahogany nightstand.

Not a moment passes before you’re reaching for it. Gods, how long has it been? The back of your throat is as dry as the Sagolii, sandpaper feeling soothed by the cool water you gulp so desperately.

The muscles and bones of your arms whine with dull pain, left over from the terrible injuries you’ve suffered during your escape, as vicious and unnerving as the memories which accompany them.

“It will take thee at least a fortnite to heal from thy wounds. House Fortemps hath secured thee a place in the Holy See as their ward.”

“I…” It’s all too much to process. “What about the Scions?” The conversation slows to a stop as he carefully thinks over his answer, though his silence is all you need to know the verdict. Sudden nausea churns deep in your stomach, because you know. You were there. You heard the tunnel collapse. You watched Minfilia dash in the direction of the explosion. The allies you have come to know and treasure perished for your sake.

An aching coldness sweeps over you as your body curls in on itself, crushed. Alone, you realize. Alone. The support networks and bonds you’ve built ripped from your grasp in not even a bell’s work. Darkness envelops your vision as you bury your face in your knees, sobs beginning to rattle aching lungs.

What’s the point in being the Warrior of Light if you can’t protect those who matter most to you?

A large hand settles on your shoulder, reminding you of Urianger’s hovering presence. Your throat is hoarse and slick all at the same time, tears smeared wet across your cheeks, leaving you feeling even worse. Your lips part around a pathetic little gasp, drawing a trembling breath deep into your lungs.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper and laugh all in one. “I probably don’t seem like a Warrior of Light, right now.”

“‘Tis no trouble,” Urianger insists, offering you a white kerchief. The fine fabric glistens underneath the spare rays of sun. You almost hesitate to sully it, but you wipe your face down and blow your nose in it anyways, too far gone to feign humility.

“I can only imagine the depths of thou’s grief… but know this be a safe haven. Rest here as long as thou desirest.”

“Resting is the last thing I want to do right now,” you sigh. The grief, the doubt, the ‘what if’s’ press against you like a vice. You don’t completely believe it, still. That they’re gone. A part of you thinks perhaps Y’shtola or Thancred or any of the friends you’ve made along the way will walk through the door any moment, like nothing happened. But you know that’s not going to happen. That cannot happen. It’s that grim realization that spurs you into action. Your arms howl in agony as you press your hand to the mattress, pushing yourself out of bed.

The floor is cold against your bare feet. The plush robe you’re swaddled in shifts with the sudden movement, dangling over your shoulder to—

—to gift him a glimpse of thine exposed skin. Ne’r had he thought the day would arrive when a woman paralyzed him with her body alone, yet here he sat.

The ethereal sight was snatched away before he could truly savor it. Overpowering was the temptation to beckon thee hither and plead for another showing, but nay. Surely such a woeful and pitiful display from a stranger would gain him naught. A quieter, delicate approach must needs do.

He stood from his chair, hastening to your side.

“Prithee, allow me to run thee a warm bath. Thou hast been deep in slumber since yest’rday. T’would be advisable to clean and redress thy wounds.” His gaze rested upon thee, soft and imploring. A brief silence hung in the air, during which his heart thrums so passionately in his ears, so voluminous that he might have missed thy nod of agreement had he not been so focused on thine lips. “A seamstress hand-crafted a new shirt and pair of slacks for thy to adorn, alongside the proper smallclothes.”

He grasped the pile of garments from atop the drawers that rested against the far wall, delicately handing them to you. With great delight did he notice the petiteness of your hands, his heart set aflame at the difference in size between the both of you.

With eagerness did he escort you to the bathing chambers, endeavoring to keep his mind from wandering to the expanse of skin and plane that laid beneath that loose robe.

By his hand would your bond seed and propagate.

As hesitant as you are to trust a man you’ve just met, you allow Urianger to escort you to the bathroom. He slows his pace for your sake, the brief walk giving you a glimpse at the rest of his home… or at least just one, sprawling floor comprised of—well, you don’t get a look inside any of the rooms. The number of ornate doors that line the corridor on either side speak to his wealth and status.

“Forgive me,” he says as you reach the end of the corridor. His cheeks flush light pink, touching the tips of his ears. He doesn’t even look at you as he wraps a massive hand around the brass doorknob, tugging it open. “Dost thou require assistance disrobing?”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him with a small smile. His modesty is likely a standard among Ishgardian society, but you find it sweet regardless.

The bathroom is wide open and lavish. White tile spans across the floor. The sink is surrounded by a marble countertop and the faucet shines near gold in the pale sunlight. Tiny windows are placed up high, so even the most determined of lechers can’t catch a glimpse inside.

“Thank you, Urianger.” You can’t even begin to repay his hospitality, and while you hate to impose on him further… “I might need your help with rebandaging, though.”

“Of course,” he nods. Perhaps, after you heal and get back on your feet, you’ll be able to repay the incredible kindness he’s shown. For now, all you can do is step inside to the waiting bath. “I shall retrieve the necessary supplies while thou bathes. Take as long as thou require.”

The door clicks shut behind you, leaving you to simple silence and the thoughts that accompany it. Plush fabric slides down your skin as you disrobe, and you take care to drape it over a rack affixed to the wall. Your borrowed raiment is a deep, inky black that shimmers underneath the light, several sizes too large for you. You realize it likely comes from his own wardrobe, making it more of a relief that you didn’t simply shuck it off and let it fall to the floor.

After everything he’s done for you, you’d hate to let even a speck of dust sully it.

The process of peeling off your bandages is both sluggish and painful, but there’s a strange sense of relief that comes with letting your skin breathe. After tossing the sullied scraps into the nearby wastebin, you run the bath and allow the warm water and soap to wash over you. You’re tender still. Each brush of soap over wounded areas makes you cringe anew. The pain, however, is a welcome distraction from the thoughts and qualms that flock so readily to you.

You throw yourself into the task, losing track of time until you’ve finished. It’s with great reluctance that you climb from the warm water. The cold air surrounds you near instantly and clings like a second skin, sending an intrusive shiver down your spine.

After toweling off, you debate how much you should dress. On one hand, being close to bare in front of the man you have just met, you know if you’ll get dressed completely, he might just ask for you to disrobe again. He can’t very well treat you with clothes in the way. Nervousness briefly churns in your stomach as you opt to only tug on the undergarments.

You poke your head out the door. Much to your surprise, he’s already waiting with an armful of supplies.

“Should I come out there?”

“I can redress thy wounds wherever thou art most comfortable,” he informs you, his expression twisting with sympathy.

“In the bathroom is fine, then.” Despite the permanent Ishgardian cold, your palms sweat as you open the door, allowing him to stride inside. There’s no reason to fear or doubt his intentions. He’s been nothing but the finest of gentlemen thus far. His gaze remains affixed to the floor as he bustles inside. He carefully unloads his armful of gauze, bandages and salves onto the kitchen counter.

“I shan’t look anywhere unnecessary,” he assures you—

—And he hoped he did not lie.

Still, he cannot deny the incredible thrill that danced down his spine when his fingers brushed across thine skin. Even while injured, thou attempted to maintain a firm, resolute demeanor. Only the slightest twinge of thine expression betrayed thy agony.

The sight of thou’s bloodied visage returned to the forefront of his mind.

What kind of spectacle had thou created on the battlefield? How many foes had thou felled? Werest thou as incredible and grandiose as thy reputation had told?

Thy’s body tensed and flexed as he rubbed the soothing ointment onto thine skin. He mapped out every wondrous plane and curve. A fleeting gaze glimpsed roguely at thine softer parts, idly admiring thy incredible form as he re-layered each bandage, treatment gentle and thorough, worshipful. As devoutly as a priest expressed his undying love to Halone.

The fire that you sparked within him grew to a steady inferno, and to the Twelve he prayed thou did not notice the sheen of sweat that had coated his palms. Never had he felt such zealous passion.

Hardly a bell had passed whilst in your waking presence, and yet he was absolutely intoxicated. He was not a man, but rendered a beast, a hound, desperate for the slightest speck of attention thou might bestow upon him.

He felt a twinge of relief as he fastened—

The last piece of medical tape affixes yet another patch of gauze to your skin.

“Thank you,” you’ve lost how many times you’d said that to him since waking. “For everything. I can only hope that I’ll be able to repay you, one day.”

“While thine’s generosity is most appreciated, rest assured I have received due compensation. The Holy See ensures my coffers are well filled, but even had they not, seeing the Warrior of Light hale and hearty would have been reward enough.”

Urianger moves away, taking his warmth with him. Again, he collects the supplies he had come in with, strolling towards the door. You hastily shrug on the shirt and trousers he’s so generously provided for you, wincing with each pull of muscle until you’re warm and clothed. The garments are too big for you, but better that than too tight.

You grab the robe from the rack. The fabric is warm and insulated, and covered in a spiced scent you’ve come to recognize as his. Idly, you shrug it on before turning to the door—

He stood in the doorframe, his eyes widening as he drank in thine intoxicating visage. On thy own, thou wert stunning, but draped in his robe thou wert astronomically, impossibly ethereal. The rich fabric draped over thine form, flowing down and bunching on the floor around thine feet. The edges dragged behind you like a bride’s wedding trail.

It took several moments to jolt from his enraptured state, though the sight remained, burned deep into his mind, a lovely picture he would sooner die than forget.

Would his cologne and incense cling to thou after? For how long? How—

How long would it be until you can return to the field? The Scions are missing, not dead. You refused to believe that for the sake of your own sanity. Not until you find their bodies and could deny no further. You will not rest.

For now, though… all you can do is trail after him. He leads you into the same bedroom that you woke in, urging you to get more rest while he fixes breakfast. Had the simple process of bathing not been so draining, , you would try to assist him. Instead, you topple onto the mattress and worm underneath the blankets. The curtains are drawn, leaving the room bathed in blissful dark. Bookshelves line two of the walls, a gap between them left to make room for a desk. It’s hard to make out any other details, not when your eyelids are so traitorously heavy, not when your mind and body coalesce in their desires to corral you into an unsteady, uncomfortable sleep.

There’s no way to tell how much time passes when you wake next. The room is undisturbed, and the stillness near agitates you as you stir. Whether it’s been only fifteen minutes or several hours, you’re quite through with being still. How can you be content to waste away in sleep when there’s still so much you don’t know? When there are people who still so desperately need your help?

Even if you don’t know where the Scions reside, Raubahn is still likely imprisoned. Tataru is out there with no one to protect her. You ignore the twinges and pangs of pain that assault you when you throw your legs over the bed’s edge. If nothing else, the flare of agony helps awaken you further. The polished wooden floor is freezing against the bottoms of your feet as you amble towards the door…

Yet, a strange apprehension takes hold you you as you stand before it.

Should you really be walking around Urianger’s house alone while you’re his guest? Perhaps it’s only been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you’re disoriented and paranoid. You feel like a child who’s stayed up much too late and has to make the perilous sneak up to bed to avoid a scolding. Even after felling gods and monsters alike, it’s still social interaction and customs that worry you the most.

What would Thancred say, if he saw you so baffled by something so simple? He’d probably laugh and tease you. Maybe pat you on the back before offering genuine words of advice—maybe he’d know the ins and outs of Ishgardian etiquette thanks to some bizarre and far flung mission. You don’t know. You can’t ask him.

You don’t like being left alone with your thoughts.

That’s what pushes you to grab the doorknob and stroll into the hall, taking in the long corridor that looms ahead.

“Urianger?” You call cautiously. Steps slow, your breathing quiet as you grab the first doorknob to your left. Upon giving it a cursory twist, you discover it’s unlocked. Of course it is! He likely hasn’t expected you to snoop.

The door creaks open, revealing another bedroom. It’s similar to the guest one you have been given. The bed is perfectly made, sheets black and white, not a single crease out of place. The smell of recently burned incense makes you wrinkle your nose, curious. A desk nestles against a wall, haphazardly covered in papers and scrolls. It’s enough to pique your curiosity, but not enough to make you actually enter and investigate. That honor goes to the familiar pile of clothes nestled in one of the crannies, between the nightstand and a dresser.

Your clothes. A strange, ominous feeling sinks to your stomach as you push the door open and step inside, crossing the room in a few, deft strides. Why does he have these? The garments aren’t clean, still smattered in blood and other stains that make you grimace as you grip your shirt. You guess it makes sense. He couldn’t treat you with your filthy clothes on, after all. But seeing your garments so casually resting in a practical stranger’s home unsettles you regardless. Even worse, his bedroom.

Your glazed eyes roam the length of your ruined clothes briefly before you set them back down, folding them the way they had been. The way you back out of the bedroom is hasty, but the closing of the door is done with the delicacy and precision of a master calligrapher.

Relief relaxes you somewhat as you continue down the hall, glad you haven’t been caught red-handed. It takes a matter of minutes to find him, still in the kitchen, having just finished cooking. Breakfast is delicious, though the food settles uneasily in your stomach.

You don’t know his intentions. Had you not discovered your clothes neatly stacked away in his room. Are his intentions really pure? Had he intended to wash your garments and return them to you at a later time?

Are you any safer here than you were back in Ul’dah?

You blink, and you’re suddenly back in the banquet hall, underneath the dazzling lights and immersed in conversation with some gaudy noble you don’t even know.

The scene changes all too quickly—

A disembodied arm, the screams of innocent servers and bystanders—the way the Elder Seedseer and the Storm General saw fit to merely watch as you and your allies were chased from the banquet. They let this happen, you realize while you sit on Urianger’s couch and drink some tea.

They let this happen. After you’ve chased gods out of their homes, after you lent your aid, assisting their people with everything you have. Cold. It’s so, so cold and the breakfast in your stomach threatens to resurface because-gods, how can you ever trust anyone again? Especially those in power?

It’s Urianger’s voice that distracts you, brings you back to the surface. He returns from his study and remains at your side for the next few hours, much to your surprise. Your memory is a blur from then on. Your senses fade in and out, lost in a daze for god knows how long. Only the gentle touch of his hand on your shoulder brings you back to reality.

How long had he been speaking to you? You do your best to piece through the conversation, half lost in your thoughts and half still in the present.

Isn’t he someone important? You can’t quite recall what he said–something about working for the church, about being a healer. Doesn’t he have something else to do? You imagine the Holy See needs all the help you can get with the ongoing war—but you don’t question him.

Conversation is slow and steady. Only every now and then does he ask questions, things that are easy to answer–

“From where dost thou hail?” “Was breakfast to thine liking?” “Would thou likest more tea? Another blend, perhaps?”

Calm, casual, yet you do not miss the looks he sends you when he thinks you are not aware. Something changes in his expression, the quiet, thoughtful calm touching a shade darker. Those keen, gold glances make your spine stiffen, your body curling in on itself, taking shelter in the robe he so kindly gifted you. The afternoon slopes by, time passing quicker once he grants you access to his incredible library.

The immense shelves line the walls and cluster around a single wooden table in rows. After grabbing an index of fairytales, you tuck yourself into a seat and mindlessly draw your gaze across the pages, taking in the immense detail put into each drawing.

It’s easy to lose track of time. By the time you finish combing through your chosen book, you realize the sunlight is darkened, the day beginning to come to a close.

Your legs cry out and cramp as you push away from the table, the chair’s legs scraping against the hard wood floor.

The hallways of Urianger’s home are lit by several floating orbs of light. They flounce through the air, casting the hall into patterns of warm glow and dim shadows.

You can pass through them without trouble–they part and shape around your body, making room for you to pass. A sudden jolt of stomach that gnaws your stomach prevents you from investigating the lights. Ah, you had missed lunch. Further, you venture, keeping an ear out for footsteps, breathing, any words said–

“Urianger, my good fellow! Too long has it been since we last saw each other!” A broad, familiar voice reaches your ears and draws you forward. You grasp a doorknob and pull it open to reveal the living room,the same as you left it bells prior. The front door on the far side of the room clicks shut behind Haurchefant de Fortemps’s tall, striking form. He’s abandoned the platemail and armor you’re so accustomed to seeing him in, instead donning a thick jacket, black pants and knee-high boots. A plaid scarf is bundled around his neck, checkered blue and white.

Haurchefant brightens at the sight of you, blue eyes widening, lips curling into the widest of smiles. He bustles past Urianger, arms outstretched to receive you.

“Oh, my friend! How glad I am to see you safe and sound.” His voice lowers to a soothing rumble as he wraps you in an embrace, swaddling you in decadent warmth. He’s soft and warm and alive, someone you actually know and can rely on in terrible, turbulent times. The tension dissolves from your body as you lean forward, slumping into his arms. “When I heard of what happened, I feared the worst. I would have stormed through the gates of Ul’dah myself had I not heard of your escape and timely arrival.”

His cheek nuzzles against your temple. There aren’t words to describe your relief, so you settle for curling your fingers into the back of his coat, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

No, no. You will not cry again. Yda wouldn’t want you to cry.

Regardless, the tears break free and smudge against the fabric of his coat.

“After dinner, we’ll bring you home–back to Fortemps manor. My father and brothers are incredibly excited to meet you.” He pulls back, but keeps you within arms reach, a large hand perching on your shoulder whilst the other idles at your side. Had it been any other day, you would have flustered at his closeness, but now you feel hot shame well up within you. He shouldn’t have to see you like this–not when he praises you as the realm’s greatest warrior, not when he sings your praises as though you’re immortal.

Upon sight of your teary expression, he freezes. The smile on his face dims, expression contorting in the deepest sympathy. That’s what does it, your mind and body cracking like an egg as a sob breaks free from your chapped lips.

“Oh, do not look at me so,” he shepherds you close to his chest a second time, rocking you gently back and forth. His sweater smells like a warm hearth. The faint scent of chocolate clings to the thick fabric, bringing you back to Camp Dragonhead, to a place softer and simpler. “A smile better suits a hero.”

“I… shall begin preparations for thine dinner,” Urianger says awkwardly from the corner of the room. In the middle of the your emotions breaking free, you quite forgot his presence.

“Ah, as much as I appreciate your magnanimity, that will not be necessary.” You can hear the regret in Haurchefant’s voice. “I will gladly set some time aside for us to fraternize at a later date. However, I came with the intent to bring her to the manor. We already have a room prepared, you see.”

“I see’st,” There’s a tension to Urianger’s voice, like he wants to object, but he offers no argument, no refusal. He says your name softly, breathing out a tender sigh. “I left thine belongings in the guest bedroom. Permit me to retrieve–”

“No!” You break away from Haurchefant’s hold, voice impassioned, “I can get them myself.” Despite your injuries, you’re not made of glass. This constant state of inaction leaves you feeling worthless, helpless, even though you’re not. You’ve felled countless gods! You can weather the pain, you can do something as simple as climb the stairs to get your own damn belongings.

“As thou wishest.” Urianger nods, and Haurchefant allows you to fully break from his embrace to journey back into the hallway. You fumble in the dark of the guest bedroom until you find your staff and the bag of items you had on your person during the battle, minus… your old clothes. Before you leave, you cast off the robe Urianger so generally lent you, immediately missing its warmth. Perhaps you’d have taken a last indulgent sniff of it, but the sight that greeted you in his bedroom haunts you.

You want to get out of this place as soon as possible. Maybe the fresh air will help clear your head and relax you.

You shrug the bag’s strap over your shoulder, thanking the Twelve that at least one part of you was left uninjured. You don’t linger, ambling out of the room, journeying back down the corridor, coming to a stop before the living room door.

“I would prefer it if thou left her in my care for the time being. The nature of her injuries is severe. T’would be most advised to keep her close to a professional–” Urianger’s voice is imploring yet hesitant, as though smothering pure fervent passion.

“It is quite fortunate that House Fortemps has some of Ishgard’s best chirurgeons under their employ, then,” Haurchefant cuts him off, steadfast and assured. He leaves little room for argument. You’ve never heard him cut someone off so abruptly. “Pardon my assumption, but you seem quite flustered, my friend. Is there a reason she should be left exclusively under your care?”

“My simple wish is to see mine task doled to by the Holy See through to fullest completion, tis all,” Urianger dismisses him.

“Then on behalf of the Holy See, as a member of the Heavens Ward, allow me to assure you that this will have no effect on your standing nor your pay. Archbishop Aymeric was notified of my intentions and approved them.” A pause. The creaking of the floorboards underneath someone’s feet. “It’s unlike you to be so emotionally transparent, my friend. You usually covet your feelings like a dragon hoards its treasure.”

“Thou art jumping to conclusions in your theatrics, lord Haurchefant.”

“If that’s the case, then, I so humbly beg your forgiveness and thank you for your service. Your… attentiveness to my lady has been noticed. And appropriately appreciated.” There’s a sharpness underneath Haurchefant’s typically airy voice that you’ve never quite heard from him.

...You don’t want to hear it anymore.

You grasp and twist the doorknob, the living room falling silent as you enter.

“There you are! Come along, come along,” Haurchefant wastes no time in bustling over to you. “Allow me to take that. You’ll bear no such burden while I am at your side.” He tugs on the strap of your bag and you submit, allowing him to throw it over his shoulder. “You should also take my coat, tis cold without,” in an admittedly impressive juggling act, he both keeps grip on your belongings and shrugs off his jacket at the same time, handing you the heavy, soft garment.

“Are you sure?” you hold it up and eye it with a raised eyebrow, before looking to him.

“Of course. I have long adjusted to Ishgard’s admittedly inhospitable climate, whereas you have just arrived. The walk is short. I’ll be perfectly fine.” He’s wearing long sleeves, so you don’t push it. Instead, you slide into the coat, taking in the warm, soft fabric and enjoying the scent that clings to it. The heart and the home, warm hot chocolate prepared upon your arrival to Camp Dragonhead.

The sleeves cover your hands by a long shot and the entire garment is big enough for you to wear it as a dress. The weight of it, and how much it covers is comforting.

Comforting to the point where you don’t allow yourself to bat an eye as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close to his body. You don’t want to read into his actions, don’t want to think about anything you overheard. Even the notion of having something else to worry about and lose sleep over nearly makes you break down all over again.

You say your last thanks to Urianger and promise to visit him. It’s the least you can do after he was kind enough to heal you. Perhaps he was being paid to do so, but you don’t imagine cooking breakfast was a part of his job. Nor was it his job to make you tea and fetch you new clothes, new shoes, most like.

A cold gust of air greets you as soon as Haurchefant opens the front door. The light has long died, leaving the street lamps to illuminate the grand avenues of Ishgard’s upper class district. This is your first look at the city’s interior, you realize. Your gaze draws over the grand buildings, taking in their steepness and structure. It’s grim, but beautiful. Deadset and stiff in its design but stable and confident in the face of the tragedy it regularly endures.

There is no moon, tonight, as though it too has decided to hide away with its own grief.

---

He apologized to you as he tread upstairs. He apologized to Minfilia, to the vast pantheon of gods and goddesses, to the Scions, to all those he hadn’t been able to aid in their time of need.

Urianger’s exhaustion burned him raw. He was not privy to the framing and ambush of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. However, that doesn’t alleviate him of his guilt and grief. Having thou so politely dropped into his lap by the newly appointed Archbishop had granted him brief succor. Knowing he had the chance to help the survivors of the incident was a soothing balm to the wound.

He had not anticipated the way he had grown so instantly attached. Neither had he anticipated the fervent desire that gripped him, nor the way his blood boiled when that rapscallion barged into his home and stole you away.

The guest bedroom did not bear your scent as he hoped it would.

He felt as though a hostage in his own body as he navigated to the bed, gaze fixed upon the robe thou hadst cast so generously onto the sheets. A mere piece of thee to tide him over until he saw thou next. The mattress bounced as he fell upon it, face shoved into the plushness of the garment, taking in a deep breath. His cock throbbed at the scent of you, blood rushing down whilst he parted his robes with a trembling hand.

Like a howling, braying beast did he rock his hips. The friction was painful without oil, but pain mattered precious little when he craved thou so. Moans rattled from his weary lungs, his mind corrupted with images of thee, so decadent underneath him.

Thy nails, digging into his shoulder as thou let thy voice ring free–crying and sobbing and begging for benediction by his hand, by his cock. That mattress creaked as he worked himself to completion, a final cry freeing itself from his parted lips as he spilled sticky and hot onto the robe.

He collapsed to the side, hot shame washing over him as he lifted his gaze to the window, contemplating a moonless sky.