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dragons-ire · 2 years

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12. Missed the Boat

The night sky of Thanalan is vast - vaster than you could have imagined it from gazing up at the stars though the windows of the estate in Coerthas. Far from any settlement on I'balda's maps, the stars wink and shimmer unimpeded by anything but the small campfire. The horizon curves overhead like an upside down washbasin. Full of darkness instead of water.

You're a small and insignificant thing amidst the vastness of it all.

Brighid would have been able to name all of the constellations without having to think about it. Thinking about it makes you angry, but it's a welcome thing here in the chill of the desert.

Angry because you're here and she's still there. The farthest apart you've been your entire lives. Angry because you promised - promised her, promised them - and you failed.

And there's no way back. The southern border of the Black Shroud is just a blur on the horizon, but even turning your gaze that way is too much. You blink it away and you look up at the sky when you're not watching for movement in the scrub.

If I let you go, who will replace you on my wall? Who will help defend our lands, our home from the dragons?

That makes you angry, too. Not to have disappointed the man who likes being called Father when he's in a pleasant mood, but you can all but see the gap in the rotations of the knights and squires and men at arms. Large enough to let a wyvern or vouivre straight through the line.

It makes you furious that he might have had a point.

Bhalnbhar and Erembourc are talking closer to the fire. It's hard to make out, but you think you hear your name murmured between them and you look back. Your vision blurs, the stars becoming hazy, the scrub a blue of darkness. You blink it away and you set your jaw and tightenen your grip on the lance in your hand.

You're not giving either of them the satisfaction of letting either of them see. Won't give Bhalnbhar the satisfaction of being right when he calls you kid and soft and little lordling. Won't let Erembourc see you falter in form.

You're angry at them, too. This wasn't part of the deal they'd made you over fencing lessons. This wasn't supossed to happen.

"Ducaille."

You're so focused on watching forward that a bandit could have snuck up behind you and cut your throat. At least, that's what it seems like Erembourc is trying to tell you when they speak up from somewhere over your shoulder

"….Ser." You straighten up on instinct, shoulders square.

"Bhalnbhar's going to take the rest of the night. Go get some rest."

"No."

"No?" Erembourc lifted one eyebrow, hands tucked behind their back

"I'm fine, Ser. I got this."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't making a suggestion. Go to your tent."

When you look up, you pull yourself to as much height as you can manage and still have to crane your neck a little. You glare, as if being angry with Erembourc will move them. It doesn't. They keep their hands behind their back, even with the basket grip of the rapier on their hip and wait in silence until you go.

You keep your head turned so you don't have to look at Bhalnbhar at all, and when you get to your tent, you throw yourself onto the narrow bedroll and you drive a fist into the pillow and you curl up on your side as tightly as you can.

Alone where noone can see you, you put your fist to your mouth and bite back the sound as your shoulders shake and just a few hot tears escape your closed eyes to lay on your cheeks despite your efforts otherwise.

You tell yourself you're not crying. This isn't the same.

Sleep comes fitfully but eventually. You wander in the dark beneath Snakemolt, and you see: faces in red robes on the ground, limbs like dolls. I'balda's stunned expression, a scratch on her face. A brilliant flare of fire that washes out the whole room. A pair of eyes that are blue for half a second before they're suddenly uneven; color draining from one as they stareback as if to say one thing

WHY?!

The blood on your lance is black in the dim light. Even dreaming, your arms remember how you had to twist to get it free.

It's I'balda who finally wakes you. A gentle touch on your shoulder to stir you awake, her hand to your forehead to check for fever once she's asked permission. She hands you a cup of cold water and a fresh enough slab of bread and shoos you out.

Yours is the last tent standing in the broken-down encampment. Everything else is loaded to go; the midmorning sun already sweltering.

You're angry about that too, and guilty, and worthless, until she chimes in: We decided to let you sleep in.

So, with her, you make quick work of finishing the job, getting ready to move on to….wherever it is Erembourc's decided to take the company that's further away from Coerthas and the promises you'd made.

And you go sit in the back of the wagon on point, perpared to avert your eyes and sit as far away from the bundled corpse Erembourc insisted on dragging out of those ruins.

Except that you don't see it - her - nestled among the gear anymore. Anywhere.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #in this house we have TEEN ANGST

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