Pairing: Simon x F! Heir/F! Reader
Word count: 4571
Spoilers: Yes
Part One │Part Two │Part Three │Part Four
(AN: I truly didn't mean to disappear on everyone. Things got overwhelming for a bit between car issues and the end of the school year, plus a good friend moved away and I was busy trying to cram as much time in with them as I could. The GOOD news is that I did manage to get some writing and re-writing done while I was away, and most of the end is written and is being cleaned up so there shouldn't be any more long gaps between parts. THANK YOU ❤️❤️❤️ for your patience and support!)
Your little group is silent as you navigate dark, narrow alleys toward the northern edges of the city. Though she hardly seems the type to frequent Galyad’s backstreets, Ena does not hesitate as she leads you through the narrow passageways. If there is anyone else out tonight, you don’t see them – and you’re grateful for that, as this seems to be a particularly rough part of town.
Finally you emerge from the maze. The sand is lapping at the edges of the city here, but deep in the shadows of the densely packed buildings you can just make out a narrow pier and a waiting skiff. Both have seen better days, but you don’t have time to worry about the soundness of the vessel.
“Corbin is waiting in the boat,” Ena tells you. “He can take you to your Rathalos, and from there you can make for the Sacrosanctum once more. I must warn you: it will be difficult to reach the heart of the Sacrosanctum without being discovered by Vermeil’s forces.”
“We’ll find a way,” you reply, reaching out to clasp her hands. “I can’t thank you enough, Lady Ena.”
She shakes her head. “No thanks are necessary. I only hope you can reach Aenshin’s egg in time. Now go; the cover of night won’t last long, and you have quite a journey ahead of you.”
You nod and turn to the pier with Simon at your heels. It creaks unpleasantly under your feet, but you make it to the skiff without plunging through the rotting planks, and Corbin reaches out to help you board the boat.
“Good to see you again,” he says, and for once he doesn’t sound like he’s joking. “Let’s get going. Just, uh – make sure to hold on. This thing is liable to get tossed about on those bigger duneswells, and sand’s a lot less forgiving than water.”
Simon follows you into the skiff, and with a lurch you’re underway once more. In the silence of the night, you can hear the hiss of the sand as you skim over it. Corbin’s right about the ride; in such a small boat, skating over the swells feels like sliding down the side of a cliff, but with the night breeze behind your sail, you make good progress.
The dunes go on for miles, and it is a long time before you spot a small refuge. You’ve sailed almost due north, with nothing to see beyond occasional glimpses of the mountains to the east. Now at last you catch sight of a rocky island, jutting up out of the sandsea all by itself. It is featureless and unremarkable apart from a wide littoral cave, and Corbin aims the skiff directly toward its opening. You and Simon both look up as you pass into the sheltering rock, but the cave is as unremarkable as the rest of the island…apart from another small pier hidden beyond a jut of stone.
“Lots of smugglers drop by, for obvious reasons.” Corbin catches sight of the look on Simon’s face and grins. “Don’t worry. Galyad sends some guardsmen through every so often to clean the riffraff out. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”
Then you hear a familiar rumble from deeper in the cave, and Corbin’s grin widens. “Well, we’ve almost got the place to ourselves.”
You hardly wait for him to tie the boat to the pilings before you’re rushing forward, eager to reunite with Ratha. Simon follows more slowly, clearly apprehensive of his reception, but Ratha lumbers forward to greet you both, nearly knocking you over as he tries to nuzzle you with a little too much enthusiasm. While he doesn’t show the same affection to your companion, he at least doesn’t seem too perturbed that Simon is with you. It’s a far cry from the relationship they used to have, but you’re glad that for now at least Ratha is willing to accept him for your sake.
You turn back to Corbin, who is still sitting in the boat with a fond look on his face as he watches you with your monstie. He gives you a lazy salute.
“I figure you’ve got it from here,” he says, “but I’ll see what I can do about mustering some reinforcements anyway.”
“Thank you, Corbin. I don’t know what we would have done without you,” you tell him. He flaps his hands at you and shakes his head.
“No need for any of that. Just be safe out there,” he replies, and a few moments later the skiff is unmoored and on its way.
“There’s still a few hours of darkness left,” you say to Simon. “Let’s get moving.”
You stride past him toward Ratha, but Simon catches your arm.
“Hold on…Fiero still has the other Skyscale.”
You look up into his troubled eyes and feel a pang of guilt. “I know,” you tell him, “but we’re short on time. If we go after your Rathalos, we might lose the egg.”
“It’s too dangerous to leave him in Fiero’s hands. We’d stand no chance against him, even with Ratha on our side.”
“And we stand no chance of getting him back without the rest of the Rangers.” You rest your free hand over his where he still grips your arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to abandon your monstie, Simon. But we don’t have the time or resources to rescue him.”
“Fiero isn’t the only danger. Aenshin will destroy us without both Skyscales,” he warns you.
“One problem at a time. We’ve got to beat Vermeil to the egg, then we can get your Rathalos back.”
He isn’t happy about it, but he must see the sense in your logic because he drops the argument. You clamor up into Ratha’s saddle and he follows behind you a second later, his body warm and solid at your back. Maybe you shouldn’t find it comforting after everything that’s happened, but your tension still eases knowing he’s with you.
The flight is long, and the night grows colder as you strike out over the Silver Sea. Soon you’re shivering under your cloak, and your fingers are going stiff around Ratha’s saddle. If Simon is as cold as you are, he doesn’t say anything about it. In fact, he’s been quiet for most of the flight, but you can’t blame him. You don’t know what to say either.
That’s why it's so shocking when he leans forward and curves his arms around you, placing his warm palms over your hands on the saddle and letting his body heat sink into you.
“Simon?” Your voice is thready and breathless, which makes you blush.
He turns his face so you can’t catch sight of him over your shoulder, but you think he might be blushing too. “We’ve come this far. It would be a shame if you got hypothermia now.”
Maybe it’s wrong. Maybe you’re once again falling prey to your naive and trusting nature. You find yourself relaxing into his embrace anyway.
Another ten minutes go by before you speak again, but finally you can’t bring yourself to stay silent anymore.
“Did you mean it…when you said you can’t lose me?”
He goes very still behind you. Then he exhales and you shiver again as his warm breath stirs the hood near your ear.
“I meant it,” he says.
“When this is over…what happens then?”
“I suppose I’ll go home and see what I can do to help my village, cure or no cure.” He pauses and adds, his voice equal parts wry and melancholy: “I doubt I’d get a warm welcome in Azuria, and after all the lies, I’m not too interested in returning to Vermeil either.”
“Why didn’t you leave when you realized they were lying in the first place?”
“I wanted to, but they offered me something I couldn’t refuse.”
Your head tilts, silently enquiring, and his hold on you tightens so briefly that you’re nearly sure you’re imagining it.
“They told me no harm would come to you as long as I continued to cooperate.”
Your stomach swoops hard. “How long ago was that?”
You feel his uneasy shift. Again, you get the distinct impression that he feels uncomfortably vulnerable as he reveals these things to you, and you can picture his averted gaze and red-hot cheeks.
“Not long after I turned fourteen.” A beat of silence follows, and then: “You’d been my best friend for years by then, and when it finally occurred to me that the battle-bound monsters might be used against Azuria as well as Aenshin, I had to do what I could to protect you.”
“Simon…” You’re filled with the strangest, most incongruent mix of gratitude and regret. “If you had just come to me, we could have figured something out.”
He doesn’t answer, but you know what he’d say if he did: he had been torn between you and his Rathalos, torn between his ongoing need to destroy Aenshin and his increasing fear for your life.
The sea goes on and on as the sun begins to rise behind a shroud of huge iron-colored clouds. In the shelter of Simon’s arms, you feel almost warm enough to sleep, but you force yourself not to close your eyes. Forty-five minutes later, you’re glad you didn’t give in; ahead of you, you can just make out the dark shape of landfall.
“The Sacrosanctum,” Simon says, and you stare at it, hardly able to believe you’ve made it here at last. “Be ready, Princess. There’s a long way to go, and the monsters are as tough as they come.”
You nod, pushing down a sudden swell of unease. Yes, the path ahead will be difficult, but you have no choice. You must beat Clarissa to the egg.
Exhaustion is setting in, much as you try to hide it. It has been two days of near constant vigilance. There are Vermeilian patrols and scouts to avoid, but also an abundance of dangerous monsters. You and Simon hide when you can, fight when you must, and find what warmth there is to be had by huddling close to one another in small alcoves or caves well off the beaten track.
You’re pressed into one such hiding place now, tucked tight between Ratha and Simon. You can feel them both breathing, and the steady rhythm is soothing you to sleep despite your best intentions. Simon’s arm tightens around your shoulders when he notices, and when you glance at him, he murmurs something about resting while you can.
You’re tempted to take him up on that, until you hear a thrumming cry from high above and spot a luminescence moving among the clouds.
“Aenshin,” Simon mutters. You stare at the huge shape in the sky and shudder. From way down here, it seems impossible to fight, much less prevail over, and you haven’t even seen it properly yet. But you can’t worry about that right now. You have to stay focused.
“We should note which direction it’s heading in. It might be returning to its den,” you say, and Simon nods, his eyes still locked onto the sky.
“I wonder where the others are,” you murmur, thinking again how much you miss their support and encouragement.
That gets his attention. He looks at you, his expression softening as he sees the mix of exhaustion and longing on your face. “Don’t worry, Princess. I’m sure they’re on their way here to you.”
You try to smile. “Who do you think is being more annoying about it, Thea or Gaul?”
“Gaul,” Simon says without hesitation. There’s a hint of his old grin tugging at his lips. “It’s definitely Gaul.”
It feels so good to joke with him again that you nearly laugh, but then his eyes flick down to your lips and another feeling entirely flashes through you.
He turns his face away almost before you can process what you’d just seen, but while he is now carefully avoiding your eyes, he keeps his tone light and playful. “We better be ready for a grumpy Ogden. He probably hasn’t had a nap in days.”
“And if he’s grumpy, Kora will be worse since she’ll be the one he complains to,” you add, and he does grin now.
“You know–”
But just as he starts to speak, you hear the unmistakable sounds of riders battling. The smile falls off Simon’s face in an instant, and without a word you both start moving toward the noise. It’s slow going: you have to stay close to the canyon walls, and as you get closer you end up crawling as low to the ground as you can. Finally, as you peer down into an abandoned courtyard at the heart of the old kingdom, you spot the trouble. Battle-bound monsters are fighting a massive Arkveld.
The battle is brutal. The Arkveld is whipping its chain-like wings out at the monsters attacking it, but the Vermeilians outnumber it. They take turns darting in and attacking, over and over, until it’s clear that the Arkveld is badly injured and barely able to fight back.
You can’t bear to watch the end. You slip back to your hiding place and press your face into Ratha’s warm scales. The battle bound monsters are so much stronger than the regular ones. If you were outnumbered like that Arkveld, you and Simon would almost certainly be badly hurt or killed. And if you were to run into Fiero on the other Skyscale…
Simon’s hand finds yours. You lace your fingers through his and hold on tight.
Your new little hideout is dangerously close to an invasive Khezu. Normally you’d be interested in chasing it back to its den, but for now the Vermeilians are giving it a wide berth so you need it for cover. You’re treading a thin line – you must stay close enough for it to avoid notice from the enemy army while staying far enough away to avoid notice from the Khezu itself. Luckily, this isn’t a balancing act you have to maintain for long: a day later, you spot familiar figures gliding over the Glacial Caps on their way to the stronghold.
You and Simon don’t need to say a word; you both climb into Ratha’s saddle and soon you’re flying off to intercept them.
Thea’s glad cries fill the air as they see you and Ratha, and Eleanor looks so happy you suspect she might cry. Kora and Ogden are shouting something at you (impossible to make out with all of Thea’s excitement), and even Gaul seems relieved. But your joy only lasts as long as it takes for the entire group to land; the instant Gaul is on solid ground, he launches himself at Simon. You’re so stunned that it takes you a second to recognize the glint of metal in his hand…but yes, it is a knife, and it is at Simon’s throat.
“Gaul!”
He ignores your cry. The knife doesn’t budge.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t,” he snarls at Simon. The blade digs in now, just a little, but you can see blood welling along its edge. You want to wrestle it away, but one wrong move could prove disastrous for Simon, so you force yourself to stay still.
“Gaul, please – he’s helping me. I swear it,” you say, but your words are rejected immediately.
“He’s saving his own skin. We can’t let him trick us again.”
You’re glancing around the group. They are all silent, and for once you’re not sure if any of them are on your side. How could they be? Simon has betrayed all of them, too.
“Gail, we need him. I promise, he really is helping me. Ena let us go so we could search for Aenshin’s egg. We’ve got to get to it before Vermeil–”
“Yeah, well - his search stops here. We’ll help you. He can go back to his little friends or freeze to death right here for all I care.”
The disgust in Gaul’s voice isn’t surprising exactly, but it does leave you scrambling to explain why Simon should be freed. You’re still wracking your brain when Simon spares you the effort by speaking up himself.
“I made a vow.” He holds Gaul’s gaze, stoic and unafraid. “My life is hers, and as long as I live, I will never leave her side.”
“I can help you keep that vow,” Gaul snarls, and his knife twitches again. A muscle jumps in Simon’s jaw, but he refuses to flinch.
“Gaul, I’m ordering you to let him go.” Your voice comes at last, and it rings with command. “As your captain…and as your princess.”
It makes you uncomfortable, throwing around your royal privilege in this way, but these are the only words you have left that might make Gaul stand down. You need Simon, but it’s more than that; you still care about him. The idea of him being hurt, or of either of these men hurting one another, is more than you can bear.
“Let him go. Let us explain,” you add, softening your tone just a little. Gaul looks at you at last, a narrow look over his shoulder, but even as he does, the knife disappears and Simon is staggering back, released from the other’s iron grip.
“Explain fast,” Gaul snaps, and you gesture for the others to gather round as you explain what has happened since your capture in the gorge.
Simon spares no details. He tells them everything he told you, without bothering to minimize or disguise the depth of his devotion to you. And to your surprise, none of the others question it. They all accept, without even batting an eye, the fact that you have long been the person dearest to him. You can’t help the blush that heats your cheeks as he dedicates himself to you again for their benefit, and Kora gives your arm a quick squeeze.
Ogden sighs when Simon’s words finally run out. “Fine mess you got yourself into. I’m not saying I forgive you – you gotta earn that. But I’m willing to give you a chance to prove those fancy words of yours are true.”
Thea agrees quickly, and Kora murmurs her acceptance as well, but Eleanor only nods. Her doubts are still written clearly on her face, even though she doesn’t speak them aloud. Gaul’s expression, however, remains a hard mask. He points his knife at Simon.
“You’d die for her?” he says to Simon. You think it’s a question, but it doesn’t really sound like one. Simon nods as if it is.
“Fine. I don’t have to like it, but I’ll do what the captain wants.” He turns away from you both and strides off, perhaps to keep a lookout or perhaps just to cool down. Either way, it seems best to give him space for now.
“Well, I’m sure we’ll…find a way to work this out,” Ogden says doubtfully. He turns his uncharacteristically solemn gaze to you. “I’ve got a bit of news for you, Princess…but it isn’t exactly good news.”
Your heart sinks, but it isn’t as though you’d been expecting something different.
“That’s okay,” you tell him, “I’m ready.”
But you’re not, not really.
“There’s been an attack,” he says. “At the peace talks. Your father has been hurt.”
The ground seems to swell and drop under your feet like a wave. You glance at Eleanor – involuntarily, unfairly, though you can’t help it – until Kora sets you right.
“It was Aenshin,” she says. “It seemed to want the battle-bound monsters, but we were all caught in the crossfire.”
“How bad is it? Is he…” Dying, you mean to say, but the word refuses to leave your mouth.
“He was covering our escape when Aenshin unleashed its power. He has...been infected with crystallization, Princess.” Her eyes are so sad, and she lays a hand on your trembling arm. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” you say, feeling strangely numb. “Thank you for telling me.”
“The peace talks themselves didn’t go so well.” Eleanor sounds just as apologetic as Kora. “We weren’t expecting them to, but my sister…”
“Has war officially broken out?” Simon asks. There is a streak of crimson at his throat from where he’d swiped the blood away, and you force yourself to look away.
“Aenshin attacked both sides before battle could truly break out, but…” Eleanor’s expression is pained. “I think we’re out of time.”
“Then let’s get moving,” Kora says. “We can go faster now that we’re together.”
You nod and draw out your map to show them where you and Simon have already searched. Eleanor makes a quick meal from the rations the Rangers have carried north with them, and then the group mounts up and heads toward the heart of the Sacrosanctum.
Behind you, Simon is quiet. You get the sense that he’s scouring his memories of this place, hoping for anything that might point you in the right direction. Perhaps he’s also struggling with the new coldness between himself and the rest of the team, and you shoot a look at him over your shoulder. You can feel your furrowed brows and wish you could wipe the concern off your face, but it’s impossible.
He smiles softly at you. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. “I’d be more upset if our friends hadn’t been so protective.”
You nod and turn back toward the shattered stronghold. You’re not sure what awaits you beyond, but at least you and the Rangers will face it together.
Kora and Thea find the winding cave, a passageway through the rocky hillside which leads away from the crystallized stronghold to the southwest. It’s deep and bends away from the entrance, leaving them no choice but to enter it and explore if they want to discover what’s inside. Something tugs you forward as you stare at it. It feels almost instinctive, as though you can feel yourself drawing closer to Aenshin with every step. Even without that feeling, you can see the gleam of crystal further in, a sure sign that the elder dragon had passed through this area before.
Simon’s eyes meet yours. There’s a flicker of something in his gaze, a memory that’s still too hazy to rely on, but you can tell he’s feeling the same tug you are – the one pulling you toward the cave. With a fortifying breath, you take the lead and enter the rocky passageway without any further hesitation.
It’s hard to tell if you’re alone in here. The light is reflecting off of the faceted egg quartz, making the shadows shift and dance. Deep within their crystal prisons, the silhouettes of monsters seem almost to be breathing, and the trickle of icy water down the rock walls makes the hair on your arms stand on end.
“It’s battle-bound,” Gaul says as he examines one of the frozen monsters. Beside him, Eleanor’s lips tighten.
“They all are,” she agrees. “These must be the original ones. The ones made into weapons by our ancestors.”
You turn toward one of the encased creatures, peering through the egg quartz to note the differences between the older armor and the new, but Ogden’s voice shatters your concentration a moment later.
“Uh…Captain,” he says, his usually jovial tone transformed by unease, “I think you should come and take a look at this.”
You turn and move deeper into the cave, skirting past a huge formation of egg quartz and rock which had obscured the path ahead from your gaze. Ogden comes into view first, but as you finish rounding the obstacle, you see what had caught his attention. There is a huge carcass on the floor of the cave...a carcass that isn’t encased in crystal.
Beside you, Simon makes a soft, worried noise.
Thea pushes between you both and makes her way to Ogden’s side to get a closer look, and Gaul immediately starts scanning the area for any clues – or threats – you may have missed. You move forward with Kora and Eleanor, trying to make out more details on the body in the dim light.
The fallen monster is unmistakably an Azure Rathalos. It had been battle-bound, and it had sold its life dearly; all around it, the walls and floor of the cave are splattered with blood. Cold soot marks the places where its fireballs had missed their target, and deep gouges have been carved out of the rock by its wicked claws.
“It’s one of the old ones,” Kora says to you. “Look at the armor.”
“The old ones? But—”
“She’s right, look.” Eleanor has moved away, toward an outcropping of egg quartz. She points, and you look beyond her arm to a jagged hole in the crystal. All round it are the glittering debris of some forces exploding out of it…some monster exploding out of it.
“They’re still alive in there,” Ogden breathes, looking around him at all the other monsters in their crystal cages.
“Yes,” Eleanor says. “And they can break out on their own.”
Suddenly the cave, already eerie, becomes bone-chilling. You are surrounded by the remnants of an entire army, dormant and waiting for any reason to break free and attack. And they have all had their natural abilities enhanced by battle-binding.
Nor is that the only reason to feel unsettled, because something had passed through this cave recently. Something strong enough to attack and defeat that Azure Rathalos. You’re beginning to get the feeling you know what – or who – it was.
Simon has drawn close to you again, his arm brushing yours as he stares hard at the fallen monster. His eyes have that look again, so intense that they seem to blaze even in the dim light of the cave. You can feel his tension, see his need to protect you rising in his countenance, and you feel your own courage stir. You must press on, and you won’t let fear of the unknown stop you.
“Come on,” you say. “We’ve got to keep searching.”
Emerging from the cave is disorienting. The sun had been setting when you’d entered it. It is fully down now, and the stars are obscured by thick clouds, so it hardly feels like you’ve left the cave at all. The air feels heavy here too, pressing down on you even as a night breeze tugs at your clothes.
Before you, the egg quartz glitters under the shrouded sky, and within is a huge egg, clearly visible in its crystallized cradle. Your heart is thudding like a drum in your chest as you study it, and dimly you’re aware of the rest of the Rangers murmuring in relief and amazement behind you. You can’t make a sound, and Simon draws closer to you, just as silent as you are. You’re trembling ever-so-slightly, but he must know; the back of his hand brushes yours in silent understanding, and you feel a sudden, intense urge to lace your fingers in his.
You’re just about to step forward, just about dig your chisel free of your gear and lift it to the egg quartz, when the sound of movement on a ledge behind you makes you freeze. Above you, previously hidden by the steep angle of the cliff, a Skyscale Rathalos lifts itself to its full height. And on its back is the very person you’d been dreading to meet since you’d seen the body of that Azure Rathalos…Fiero.
Fanfic writer’s curse got me. Whole family went down with a stomach flu and now my car’s alternator needs to be replaced, so I’m sorry for my absence. I am still writing but I haven’t had much time the last few days. Should have another part ready to post by the weekend though! Thanks for all of your support, I’ll be trying to reply to everyone soon too!
Pairing: Simon x F! Heir/F! Reader
Word count: 4363
Spoilers: Yes
Part One │ Part Two │ Part Three
(AN: I'm sorry this part took a little longer. It gave me some trouble and tried to go in a direction I wasn't quite ready for yet. I got it figured out in the end though! Thank you for all of your support and kind words, it's been amazing and motivating for me!)
Simon and Fiero stare at each other while the Rathalos’s flames slowly fade. Then the Vermeilian looks past Simon to Eleanor.
“Is it true? Are they wed?” he asks.
She nods without hesitation, though her knuckles are white where she is gripping the leather of Gaul’s armor.
Fiero seems to consider this for a moment before returning his attention to Simon. “Why should that stay my hand?”
Simon’s teeth are bared in a ferocious snarl. “Touch a single hair on her head and Vermeil no longer has a Skyscale Rathalos.”
“He is battle-bound. He will obey.”
“Even if you try to turn him against me? I don’t think you want to test that theory.”
For a few breaths, the only sound in the gorge is the wind and the beating of monster wings. Finally, Fiero makes a dismissive gesture.
“Very well, we’ll do it your way. But you will come with me to report this to the queen.”
“Simon.” Gaul’s face is a mask, but you can see that even as hampered as he would be with Eleanor clinging to him, he has every intention of fighting to protect you. His tone is as deadly as the look in his eyes. “You know we can’t allow you to take the captain.”
A quick look at the rest of the Rangers is enough to convince you that they too are ready to go to battle in your defense. A tendril of true fear slithers down your spine. The gorge is too narrow for an aerial battle; there would be no room to maneuver. Besides that, Fiero has the double-advantage of altitude and a lack of scruples. You have no expectation that he would fight fair. True, he is outnumbered, but the thought that one of your friends or their monsties could get hurt on your behalf is unbearable.
“Stand down,” you tell them. “Gaul, you said it yourself: if anything happens to me, someone needs to tell the king. That is your duty now.”
He starts to argue, but Kora lifts a hand. “The princess has given us an order,” she says. Her face is calm but her contempt obvious as she looks at Simon. “You had better keep her safe.”
He nods, but she looks away, her mouth twisted with disgust.
The Rangers wheel their monsties back toward the abandoned village and disappear around a bend in the gorge without waiting for Fiero’s response. He doesn’t spare them a glance, apparently unconcerned about Azuria’s possible response to his actions. Instead, he studies you as though you are a bug, fascinating but unpleasant, and beneath you Ratha gives a low rumble of warning. You soothe him with a gentle touch to his neck, and while you can still sense his protective fury, he settles under your hand.
Fiero’s eyes flick to Simon. “You, move to the Rathalos. She will sit behind you.” He pauses and adds, “She is your responsibility. If she runs, I will kill her in front of you. Do not overestimate her indispensability.”
The color draining from Simon’s face is all the answer Fiero seems to require.
Fawn glides closer, close enough you can feel the coolness of her body with every flap of her wings. Simon’s mid-air transfer – a maneuver you had practiced together countless times in your youth – is perfect. It is Ratha who nearly makes him fall; he twists as Simon lands on his back, and only your deeply-ingrained habit of protecting him has you reaching out to steady him before he plunges to his death.
Still trying to save him. I must be an idiot, you think. It hurts too much to admit why you had so instinctively protected him, so you slide back in the saddle and let him settle into the pilot’s seat without responding to his quiet thanks. He dismisses Fawn with a soft word as Fiero urges his (or is it Simon’s?) Rathalos back toward the abandoned village, and a deep unease fills you as you realize that you and Simon are more or less alone.
You’d attempted to propose to him just a few nights ago. He’d claimed you as a bride just a few moments ago. The whole thing is so absurd that you have to wrestle down a bitter laugh, but a strangled noise escapes you all the same.
“You ended up becoming my husband after all.”
Simon flinches. “Princess…” He sounds so weary.
“After you went to all that trouble to let me down easy, too. You could have just told me then, you know? Sorry princess, I can’t marry you because I’m a spy.”
His hands tighten around the saddle’s grips. “Hate me all you want. I was trying to spare you from this.”
You fall silent. The saddest part is, you can’t even hate him. You want to, you’re willing yourself to, but he is so miserable that you feel only the old stirrings of protectiveness instead.
“Why did you do it?” you ask. He squirms in the saddle, perhaps unnerved by your sudden shift in tone. He darts a glance at you over his shoulder, but the wind is playing havoc with his hair, and you can’t get a read on his expression.
“I couldn’t think of any other way to stop Clarissa from forcing you to marry Fiero.”
Your heart thumps a little harder. He’s still trying to save me too, you think, but just as quickly you push that thought away. Simon is your enemy; you can’t afford to give him the benefit of the doubt now. Your entire friendship had been nothing more than an intelligence-gathering mission for him, and whatever softness lingers in your heart, you have to remember that betrayal.
Even if he seems to still care for me. Especially if he seems to still care for me. You grit your teeth. I cannot trust him again.
You’re too soft-hearted, too naïve. It’s always been your weakness, and now is the worst time to fall prey to your habits of empathy and sympathy. But even as you tell yourself that, you can’t help but be overwhelmed by memories of Simon shielding you from any possible harm. He’d taken lectures in your stead when you’d snuck out of the castle, caught you when you’d fallen off of Ratha or out of trees, thrown himself between you and wild monsters. In the field, he’d never let you take a hit if he could take the impact instead, and when he hadn’t been able to save you from harm, he’d been the one to patch you back up. Even now, with Fiero…they were presumably allies, and yet you could tell that Simon did not want you to be entirely at his mercy.
“Was it all fake? Everything we went through together?” you ask, quietly enough that even you aren’t sure you meant for him to hear you. Whatever your intentions, you feel his body stiffen.
“It had to be,” he replies, cold and flat. Too defensive. He always gets too defensive when he’s lying. Or at least…you’d thought so, once. Still, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you lean forward and whisper, “That’s a lie.”
His short, unsteady exhale feels like confirmation.
Fiero leads you to Galyad. Ratha is flagging by the time you arrive, unused to carrying two full-grown adults on his back for the majority of the day, and you know he’s picking up on your anxiety as well.
“Go,” you whisper to him as soon as you and Simon slide out of the saddle. “Find somewhere to rest and stay hidden. I’ll be okay.”
He nudges you, reluctant, and you press your face to his muzzle.
“I promise. Please go,” you tell him, and with one last unhappy rumble, he takes off.
If Fiero is worried about his departure, he says nothing. But why should he worry? Ratha will never leave you, so as long as you’re in his power, so is your monstie. The thought makes you sick, but you do your best to keep your emotions off your face.
He marches you down an alley, through a doorway and then down several staircases, deep beneath the Ministry of Eggs. At last, he opens the door to a small room and gestures for you to enter. It had probably been meant for storage and it isn’t much better than a cell, but at least you are not in a dungeon. That is something you can work with.
As though reading your thoughts, Fiero points out the small desk and narrow pallet. “You have the queen to thank for this mercy. You treated Eleanor well, so she will treat you well in return.”
You grit your teeth against arguing the merits of Clarissa’s kindness. If you’re thrown into a real dungeon, escaping will become much more difficult.
“I shall come for you at the queen’s leisure,” he says, but when Simon attempts to follow him out, he blocks the door.
“Of course, we could not separate the blissful newlyweds. You shall wait here with your bride,” he says, and the lock snicks home behind him.
You move to the furthest corner of the room. Simon doesn’t follow you. He glances around instead, and then leans against the wall near the door. The way he runs a hand through his hair in frustration is so familiar that you force yourself to look at the grey flagstones beneath you, lest your heart soften further.
The silence lingers for a long time.
Eventually, Simon clears his throat. He isn’t looking at you, and you’re trying not to look at him.
“You need to rest,” he says.
Your exhaustion goes down to your bones, but you’re not interested in the pallet. How can you possibly sleep? Too much has happened and Simon being in the room isn’t doing you any favors either.
“I’m fine,” you say, and for a long time that is the last of the discussion. He settles onto the floor and tilts his head back against the wall, eyes closed. You can tell he isn’t asleep, but he seems unwilling to push his presence onto you.
You wish you weren’t always looking at him. Even more, you wish you could make sense of him.
He isn’t Vermeilian, so it’s not like he’s protecting his homeland or countrymen. He’s always seemed to genuinely enjoy his time in Azuria, and there had never been a hint that his friendships with the other Rangers had been part of a sham. And with you, he’s always been –
You curl your arms around your knees and squeeze as a fresh wave of pain crests over you.
Is it money? Perhaps, yet he’d been paid well as a Ranger. He’d been making a real home amongst you.
So why become a spy?
The question repeats itself in your mind over and over again, chasing away any hope of rest. Finally, you can’t stand it any longer: you must get some answers while you’ve got a chance.
“Where were you taking us, back in Death’s Maw?” you ask, staring hard at the wall opposite so you won’t give in and look at him instead.
Simon shifts and lets out a hard breath.
“I was taking you home,” he says, and the hesitation in his words tells you he’s wrestling with painful memories.
“Home?”
“A few people escaped my village and took shelter out there. We’re the descendants of the Riders who settled here before the Rift War, though we’ve had to hide that fact for generations. It isn’t ideal, but for the most part no one cared to dig up the past until the encroachment started to spread.”
You try to process this, but there are still so many details you’re not sure of. “And my mother? You said she found you there.”
“It was just after we were attacked, and the village was destroyed.” Simon looks at you, and you can’t help but turn your head to meet his gaze. “She saved those of us who survived. I was…I had no family. My arm had just been crystalized. She realized that I was alone and took me in when she saw how quickly I bonded with the other Skyscale. She was…incredible.”
Was. Your heart feels as though it will shatter, but you have to know for sure.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” You sound defeated, even to your own ears. He breaks your gaze with a grimace.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. She died at the Sacrosanctum a few months after we left my village.”
For a few years after she’d disappeared, you had still harbored hope that somewhere out there, your mother was still alive. In fact, in those early days after finding him, you’d often confided these secret hopes to Simon whenever you’d sneak into his room at night. He’d been your confidant from almost the first moment you’d seen him, and he’d always listened so attentively when you’d spoken of Amara. He’d never once tried to crush your dream of reuniting with her.
But he’s known all along.
It’s been apparent for years that she must be dead; you’d done your best to accept it as you’d grown older. And yet Simon’s confirmation – and the fact that he’d hidden this information from you for so long – still hits you like a hammer to the chest. You suck in a breath like you’re drowning, but all your attempts to fight back your tears fail. They burst free alongside a reluctant sob, and you bury your face in your arms so you don’t have to see Simon’s reaction.
He makes a soft noise, one of shared heartache, but he intrudes no further on your grief. When you finally lift your head again, you can see that he’d stood up and started to come toward you almost instinctively, the way he would have done just yesterday, but he’d managed to fight the urge. Good. His comfort is the last thing you want right now.
“Then what?” you croak, desperate to think of something else.
He stares at you. “You mean, after?”
His throat works and he looks down at his left arm. You can see him retreating into memory, though his frown warns you they are not happy recollections.
“Amara ordered her Rathalos to get me out. I – I didn’t want to leave her. She was just laying there on the ground, surrounded by crystal, and I – I begged but…”
He chokes, momentarily overcome, but he manages to go on in a roughened voice. “He took me south, through Azuria to Vermeil, almost without stopping. I wanted to find…”
His eyes catch yours. He doesn’t finish the sentence.
“I had gone with Amara in hopes of finding a cure for the people of my village. I didn’t want to go back empty-handed. It turns out landing in Vermeil with a Rathalos in tow garnered me some attention: Clarissa summoned me herself and asked how I was with him and where Amara was.
“Then she offered me help beyond my wildest dreams. Every resource at her disposal would be put toward helping me research a cure, but in return, I – ”
He studies the ceiling next, tracing the undulating pattern of a water stain with eyes swimming in tears.
“She said we had to protect ourselves from Aenshin as we worked. The encroachment was already destroying villages. The castle was flooded with refugees. She told me what I knew about battle-binding would buy us time and keep Aenshin away while we conducted our research.”
“So how did I – how did Azuria come into it?” you ask.
“I wanted to meet you.” Simon turns away, fully facing the wall. “I’d heard stories of you for months while I traveled with Amara. And Vermeil knew that there was some sort of research taking place at the king’s order. Clarissa told me I could go see for myself, as long as I sent her regular reports. I wasn’t to mention anything about my past, or Amara. I was only allowed to say I was lost.
“At first I didn’t really understand that I was spying, but it wasn’t long before they started asking for very specific information. About the Rangers, primarily, but also…”
“About me.” You don’t know if you’ll ever feel warm again.
“Yes.” He drops his forehead to the wall in front of him. “But by then, I was in too deep. I was afraid to tell you the truth. I thought you’d hate me if I did. And Fiero convinced me that the king’s punishment would be swift. But I also realized I…”
“You liked living in Azuria.”
“I was so proud when Lucas and Gaul took me on as an apprentice. Kora looked after me, Ogden took me out in the field as often as I wanted to go. It felt like I had found my true calling. And you – ”
There is a note of longing in his voice that shakes you, even though you have determined not to soften toward him no matter what he says. You squeeze your hands into fists and try not to let a similar longing reemerge in yourself.
“I liked you right away, you know. Amara said that I would, and I did. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever known. From the moment we met, I wanted to know you better. Amara was amazing: brave, smart, driven…but you’re all of that and more, and I started to care for you more than I should. All that time we spent together, I tried to harden my heart. But I just…couldn’t. By the time I was sixteen, I knew I never wanted to leave your side. But Clarissa knew that too. As much as I wanted to come clean, to really become Simon, she made sure I knew it was impossible. When I allowed them to bind my Rathalos…I told myself it was to stop Aenshin, but it sealed my fate. And as much as I wish things were different, Aenshin does need to be destroyed.”
He turns to you as you stand and once you’re on your feet he crosses toward you again, but he stops out of reach. “The elder dragon is the source of it all, Princess. And it won’t stop unless we make it stop.”
It hits you then. “Your village, and my mother…that was Aenshin?”
His mouth sets into a hard line. He nods.
“And the encroachment…that is Aenshin’s fault as well?”
Another nod. He hesitates, then says: “During the Rift War, the Skyscales were able to stop it. They couldn’t take it down completely, but we can. This time, we’ve got enough power.”
Whatever you had expected out of this conversation, this is not it. You can hardly process the sudden change from tearful confession to this petition for vengeance.
“Simon – ”
He steps even closer. “You haven’t seen what a Skyscale can do with the enhancements Vermeil has made. We can do this, Princess – you and me. We can stop Aenshin from destroying anything else, from harming anyone else, ever again. And when we do, we’re free. I can leave Vermeil behind for good, and you can go back to Azuria and show them what a ruler should be.”
You’re staring at him in horror. “You want to battle-bind Ratha?”
“Just long enough to – ”
“No.” You will not ever allow that.
“It wouldn’t be permanent, I swear. It would just be long enough to give him the power he needs to fell Aenshin.”
“You can’t force him into chains the way you forced me into a fake marriage!”
“I told you: I was trying to save you!”
“Why?” you cry, losing the last bit of composure you’d been clinging to this entire time. “I don’t understand, why are you still trying to save me?”
The sudden silence is ringing in your ears and both you and Simon are breathless and wide-eyed. His pulse is hammering at the base of his neck, and it matches the wild staccato of your own. You hadn’t noticed him getting closer, and somehow you can’t find the strength to move away.
“I…didn’t want to tell you like this.” But as soon as he says those words, he shakes his head and corrects himself. “I was never going to tell you at all.” His voice is hoarse now, almost tender.
You know you shouldn’t ask. You can’t help yourself. “Tell me what?”
He lifts his hand toward your face…and stops just shy of your skin. You are absurdly reminded of the kiss he’d brushed over your forehead, though the circumstances couldn’t be more different.
His voice drops even lower. He won’t meet your gaze.
“It’s too late now,” he murmurs, and for some reason you feel lost and hollow all over again. He’s an enemy, a spy, but your heart can’t seem to accept it.
“Simon – ”
But your next words, unknown even to you, are lost as the lock turns and the door is pushed open. You both twist to face it as it swings wide, and Simon manages to place his body between you and the entrance.
You’re expecting Fiero. It is the leader of the Scriveners instead.
Right away, Ena strikes you as a woman well able to handle herself in a crisis. She moves swiftly but with deliberation as she passes both you and Simon hooded cloaks and bundles of food.
“Forgive me for not taking the time for proper introductions,” she says as you take her gifts. “My name is Ena, and under different circumstances, I’m sure we would have much to discuss. As it is, we don’t have much time. Queen Clarissa has asked for peace talks to be held in Azuria, but from what I understand, they are not meant to succeed. Instead, Vermeil has massed forces just outside the Sacrosanctum in preparation for an assault on Aenshin.”
You slip the cloak on and tug up the hood. “They’re moving fast.”
“Yes, and their aims go beyond reclaiming the ancient seat. They also seek one of the elder dragon’s eggs in hopes of harnessing its strength for themselves.”
“They want to battle-bind an elder dragon?” Shock rolls through you. “To what purpose?”
“To whatever purpose they see fit.” Simon’s face has gone cold. “What could stop them at that point?”
You nod, searching for your resolve. Tonight has been a night of unpleasant and painful discoveries, but you don’t have time to dwell on it all. One day soon you will have to deal with the fallout of everything you’ve learned, but now is the time to act, not reflect.
“We have to get there first,” you say, glad that you sound so confident.
“I agree.” Simon won’t look at you. “Any egg we find must be destroyed before they can claim it.”
Ena gasps a little, and your mouth drops open. You never would have expected Simon to be so ruthlessly pragmatic.
“Excuse us a moment, please,” you say to Ena. She hesitates, then nods.
“Please hurry. I don’t have much time to get you out,” she replies, and slips back out of the door.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, Simon turns to you and plants his feet, ready for the coming argument. “Aenshin is a force of immeasurable power. Do you want to stop one crazed elder dragon, just to unleash another upon the world? One just as capable of spreading death in its wake?”
“You don’t mean that.” You’re trembling a little with horror and frustration. “You would never condemn a new life like that.”
His jaw clenches. “It killed your mother. It destroyed my people.”
“Because of what we did to it, and to the monsters it protected! It was our actions that changed Aenshin, not its own nature. And the baby in that egg is entirely innocent of any such corruption.”
“You haven’t seen it firsthand. It’s gone mad. We can’t chance it. If a second elder dragon were to be corrupted like the first…”
“This isn’t you!” You catch hold of his jacket and give him one sharp shake. “You said being a Ranger felt like your calling because you want to help save lives, Simon. You want to restore balance, you want nature and monsters to thrive just like we all do. Even if we have to kill Aenshin, you can’t tell me you’re fine with ending the life of an innocent monster. I know you – I know you couldn’t bear it!”
Simon stares at you, looking hard and deep into your eyes. Then, slowly and with unsteady fingers, he lifts his hands to cover yours where they still grip his coat.
“Princess – ”
“Don’t tell me it’s too late. You’re not some lost cause. You can choose, Simon.”
His hands tighten over yours. “You want to save the egg.”
You nod. “I want us to restore its habitat. I want it to thrive under our care, not our rule. If we can do that, it might just save us all.”
He is quiet for a while, long enough that you start to fear you’ve lost him forever. Then he releases you, and one of his hands comes up until his fingers, still shaking, brush your cheek. His touch is so delicate that you barely feel it, but it sends tingles racing through your entire body.
“I thought I’d do anything to end Aenshin and cure crystallisis. I gave up everything I had in that pursuit, and no sacrifice has ever seemed like too much, but…” He can barely speak, and you are caught in the maelstrom of emotion in his eyes. “But what I really want to protect – what I really can’t give up – is you. If this is what you really want, then I’ll do whatever I can to help you save that egg.”
You close your eyes, too overwhelmed to hold his gaze. There’s still so much you both have to work through, but for now his acquiescence is enough.
“Let’s go,” you say, pulling gently away. “We’ve got to move fast.”
He drops his hand and gives you a resolute nod before you both go in search of Ena and your escape.
it's the kind of day where i realize i've forgotten a canon detail/line of dialogue and have to rewrite thousands of words of fic to correct myself....
Pairing: Simon x F! Heir/F! Reader
Word count: 4132
Spoilers: Act 3 and 4 spoilers
Part One │ Part Two
Pain envelopes your heart as you stare into Simon’s eyes. You think you see the same pain reflected in his, but he tears himself away from you the next instant. He spins, leaving your hands empty and cold, and marches ten or so paces away. You watch him go and try and make sense of the jagged new hole in your chest.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says in a harsh voice.
Something flickers in you beneath the pain.
“I’m asking you to do what we’ve always done – for us to face whatever comes next together, just like we have for the past ten years!”
Simon’s back is so rigid with tension that you can see the taut pull of his shirt across his shoulders, and his breathing is rough and uneven.
“We will face the future together. Just – not like that.”
For some reason, you think of your mother the way you had last seen her, flying away without a backward glance. This feels like that: it is just as terrifying and heartbreaking and lonely, only worse because Simon is the one person you would have sworn would never leave you only a few moments before.
“Would it be so bad to marry me? Do you…not care about me?” you ask, and your humiliation is complete when your voice cracks with desperation.
“It would never be allowed.”
“I didn’t intend to ask for permission,” you snap. “And it’s not like I ever wanted to be a queen. Even if I had, there’s precedence: my grandfather married a commoner.”
He shoots you a dark look over his shoulder. “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
He whirls back around and closes the distance between you with long, impatient strides. His eyes are alight with a fury you’ve never seen in him before and can’t begin to understand, and it sets your heart pounding so loud that you can hardly hear anything else. Your stomach lurches as the ground seems to drop away from beneath you, but you force yourself to stand tall.
“I can’t, alright? I can’t accept you.” He lifts his hands like he wants to grab you, like his instinct is to pull you close in spite of his words, but he drops them again almost instantly. The wild tension in him burns through you as well.
“What are you not telling me?” you demand.
His jaw clenches and he stays maddeningly silent.
“Simon, you have been the most important person in my life since the moment I found you in the Loop. I would never force you to accept me or to accept my proposal, but you’re clearly not okay and I deserve to know what’s wrong.”
“Princess – ”
“Simon, please.”
He looks down at the ground between you – what little of it there is – and for a moment it doesn’t appear as though he’s going to answer. Then you see that he isn’t staring at the ground at all; his eyes are on his left glove.
You feel sick to your stomach with anticipatory dread as he lifts his arm. You’ve never seen him without gloves, have you? You try to remember, even as he rips the offending garment off with one shaky exhale.
The crystallisis is almost beautiful in the mist-diffused moonlight. It glimmers softly as he twists his arm, allowing you to see the full extent of the corruption. You reach out to touch it, only to feel a pang of regret as he jerks his arm away.
There is loathing in his voice when he says what you’re already thinking: “It’s a death sentence. A slow one, but inevitable.”
“And that’s why you – ?”
He won’t look you in the eye. “Find someone else. Find someone healthy, someone you can love.”
You don’t want anyone else. The wrongness of the thought alone makes you shake your head in abject denial. You will never feel this way for anyone else, and you open your mouth to tell him so, but then he does look at you. There is so much torment in his expression that the air slips right out of your lungs and you are no longer able to speak.
He does.
“Please don’t tell the others. They’d mean well, but you know how they are. I’m not ready to be experimented on just yet.”
He’s offering you an olive branch; a way you can salvage your friendship in the face of this failed proposal. You don’t want an olive branch. You want to press him. Every instinct in your body warns you that he hasn’t told you the whole truth, and there might not be another chance to learn whatever else he’s hiding.
In the end, you are too afraid to lose him completely. He means too much to you.
“I won’t betray your trust,” you say. He seems to flinch at that, which you think is a strange reaction, but he doesn’t say another word. He leaves you in the swirling mist, and you watch him disappear in the direction of the tent with what feels like a permanent ache in your chest.
For all that you had been nervous, you’d also been weirdly certain that he would agree to marry you. That belief feels so foolish now, your confidence laughingly naïve, and you can’t bring yourself to follow him back to camp yet.
Facing him in the morning is going to be hideously embarrassing, but you don’t have a choice. At least it will be a while before dawn.
Luckily for you, most of the morning is occupied by the hustle and bustle of packing up and moving out of the Muddled Marsh. You throw yourself into the work and hope no one notices your baggy eyes and somber mood. You do catch Gaul and Kora exchanging concerned looks, but they don’t ask.
“Captain…” Thea is rolling maps and securing them in their weather-proof cases, but her eyes track Simon as he works on packing their back-up weapons into a crate on the complete opposite side of the campsite. “Is something wrong with Simon?”
Your hand jerks and you nearly fumble the stack of research materials you’d been gathering. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, he’s got a face like a stabbed Seregios is all.”
“C’mon now, Thea.” Ogden ruffles her hair. “Help me get Chirpy loaded up, will ya? He likes those treats you make.”
“Oh, sure!” Thea is up and bouncing away, oblivious to your nerves. You shoot Ogden a grateful look, but he waves it away and follows the rookie. You’ll have to explain the new awkwardness between you and Simon at some point, but you’re glad they’re not pushing you for answers yet.
The entire camp is ready to move by mid-morning, and with Corbin and PK in the lead once more, you make good time as you traverse the last of the Marsh and enter the region of Tarkuan. Despite all the pain and confusion of the night before, you can’t help but look to Simon as the Rangers first catch sight of the crystalized Lao-Shan Lung. This is exactly the sort of moment you’d previously have been eager to share with him, and your awe and excitement momentarily make you forget the new distance between you.
For just a second – half a heartbeat, if that – your eyes meet and you see that he feels the same wonder as you do. But his smile fades quickly and he turns away to talk to Gaul instead, leaving your heart with a few fresh cracks to heal.
You miss him already.
Ogden and Thea are still grumping about not being able to climb to the top of Lao-Shan Lung at breakfast the next morning. You’re laughing at the nearly identical pouts on their faces and Kora is just starting to scold Ogden about not acting his age when Corbin drops into the chair opposite of yours and calls for everyone’s attention.
“I know we need to be cautious,” he says, “but a lot of people swing through Galyad on account of the egg quartz trade. The longer you’re camped out this close to the city, the higher the chances are someone gets curious and starts asking questions. That’s why I think a couple of you should come with me to Galyad today.”
You set your glass down and push away a fresh wave of unease. Rudy hasn’t had a lot of time to lead the Guardsmen out of the city, but there’s sense in what Corbin says.
Simon is the first to volunteer. You’re not at all surprised.
“I’ll go too,” Gaul says, and Eleanor studies them for a moment before turning to Corbin as well.
“I will also accompany you. No one seems to be searching for me, and this way I can explain Vermeil’s situation in person.”
“Sounds great.” Corbin thumps the table and then adds, “If you all have any gear that just so happens to cover most of your faces, well…might not be a bad idea.”
“No problem!” Thea says, bouncing in her seat. “I’ll find them something!” She leaves the table in a rush and you hear her digging through the reserve armor a second later.
You force yourself to meet Simon’s gaze. You’ve been able to avoid each other for the most part, even in a camp this small, but it’s impossible not to be achingly aware of him any time you’re in the same space today. It’s also impossible not to think that he has volunteered to go with Corbin just to get away from you. He’s been jumpy and troubled since your talk, and uncharacteristically silent even with the other Rangers. Whatever he’s thinking, it isn’t good and despite your internal promise to be calm and impassive, your lips turn down as you look at each other.
“Be – be careful,” is all you can think to say, and then you excuse yourself from the table and get to work on cleaning the dishes.
The group leaves within the hour, and thus begins a very long day of trying to stay occupied while you attempt not to fret about your friends getting recognized or captured, or of the Scriveners refusing to help.
Chores fill a portion of the time, and you and Ogden chance a short trek across Rococo Rocks to search out a couple of dens, but it still seems to take eons for the hours to pass. A good monster fight might help to chase away some of your stress, but you’d never provoke them on purpose for such selfish reasons. Besides, you’re trying not to call attention to your presence here.
At last the sun begins its descent toward the horizon, and you and Ogden head back to camp. It takes an effort not to rush, but you don’t want Ogden to know how anxious you are, so you deliberately match his pace and chat with him like nothing else is on your mind.
The evening meal is paltry compared to what Eleanor might have prepared, but at least cooking and cleaning eats up a little more of the evening. Kora shows you the new ammunition she’s crafting, Thea tells you stories about the poogies’ antics on her parents’ farm and Ogden falls asleep in his chair, and still the others don’t return.
Eventually you can’t stand it anymore and your anxiety drives you out of the tent, where you sit in the dirt and gaze up at the stars.
Corbin leads your friends out of the shadows of the cliffside 30 minutes later. All five of them, even PK, look troubled, and your heartrate picks up as you scramble to your feet to meet them.
“One of Fiero’s underlings was in the city,” Eleanor says without preamble. “I don’t know why, but I don’t like it.”
Gaul’s jaw is tight. “We’re running out of space to maneuver.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “The Scriveners are sending over a guild member in the morning, but both Azuria and Vermeil made it here before us. If we don’t keep moving, I’m sure they’ll corner us soon.”
You nod and risk a glance at Simon. He is looking out into the wilds, stone-faced and silent, so you direct your attention to Corbin instead. “Corbin, you told Ogden there was a way around the city. Could you lead us there?”
He nods. “Hope you’re prepared. The monsters there are no joke. Even experienced hunters don’t always come back.”
“Understood. We’ll be ready. Thank you, Corbin.”
He nods and heads back to Galyad with a parting wave. You turn to the others, trying not to look directly at Simon again.
“Let’s get some sleep,” you say to them. “We need to be ready to go as soon as we’ve spoken with the Scrivener.”
No one protests, though you’ve only just finished unpacking this morning. With one last look at the clear night sky, you duck back into the tent and hope you’ll be able to sleep tonight.
The camp has only been broken down for a few minutes when Corbin and PK return in the late morning, along with a woman dressed in what you assume is a Scrivener’s uniform. She’s about your height, and her eyes instantly remind you of…but no. There isn’t even a hint of recognition in her expression, not even when you give her your true name. It must be your memory playing tricks on you.
Beside you, Simon is stiff, and he looks nearly as shocked as you had been when he catches sight of her. That’s strange, you think. He’d never met your mother, but perhaps this woman reminds him of someone from his past too.
Still, it’s odd for him to be so restless, and you have to force yourself not to get distracted as you do your best to explain why you’ve come seeking the Scrivener’s aid.
“I can’t tell you for sure what the source of the encroachment is, but our working theory is that it is being caused by an elder dragon named Aenshin,” she tells you. “Let me explain.”
There isn’t much information about Aenshin, or its exact connection to crystallisis, but you listen closely as she describes its semi-divine role as a Sentinel before the Rift War. When she comes to more recent times, however, she shakes her head.
“No one knows what may have changed ten years ago. We have secured the area in and around the Sacrosanctum, but whatever has caused Aenshin to disrupt this delicate balance is not apparent. We will keep searching, of course, but I have no more answers for you now.”
Ogden is just opening his mouth to ask more questions when Murray shouts out a warning from above you, high up the nearest crystal pillar.
“A signal from the others!” he shouts. “Vermeilian riders near the oasis!”
Manny appears as well, coming from the opposite side of Tarkuan. He is panting from his sprint back to camp. “The Azurian Guard is returning from the direction of the Muddled Marsh. Rudy has escaped them, but they know you’re here, Your Highness.”
Eleanor’s mouth drops open. “Both? Both nations are here?”
You spin to Corbin. “We need to make a run for it.”
“Got just the thing. Head for Lao-Shan Lung.”
Your monsties are already on the move, scooping up each Ranger before pushing hard for the crystalized dragon. You catch sight of Ogden snatching Corbin and PK up onto Chirpy’s back, and Thea grabs the Scrivener while you urge Ratha higher to cover everyone’s escape. It will be tough to make it to Lao-Shan Lung before the Guard, but you have to trust that Corbin has a plan.
Just a moment later, you see it: an egg hunter’s sandship, its sails already unfurling to catch the wind. It kicks into motion as your monsties reach it, and all of you scramble to land on deck as it races to its top speed, hissing across the sand as if it was cutting through still water.
The speed is breathtaking. The ship carves through the dunes in a blur, and Gravy and Legia warn off any too-curious monsters with burst of fire and ice. The Azurian guard has no hope of catching you now until you disembark – but even as you think that, you spot the other danger: a line of battle-bound monsters between you and Galyad, already mobilizing for attack.
“Hang on!” Skipper shouts, spinning the wheel hard to port and pushing hard to flank them on the left and escape into the sand sea. The boom nearly knocks Thea and Eleanor clear off the ship, and you lose sight of the Vermeilian troops as the turn kicks up a huge wave of sand.
There’s a lurch and a drop as you leave firm ground behind, a hideous scraping sound as the hull smashes into and drags one of the Vermeilian monsters with it for a few yards, and then you are flying across the rolling dunes of the sand sea. Another adjustment of the wheel sends you soaring away from Galyad toward the east, and the Vermeilians can’t hope to follow; the sand is too loose, they’d drown in it if they tried.
You’ve shaken them off for now, but it won’t be long until they seize a ship of their own. The pursuit is not over. And if the Azurian Guard has flying monsties with them, they might catch up even faster.
But a head start is a head start, and as the sand sea opens up before you, you try to set your worries aside. You’re safe for the moment, and hopefully you’ll be able to stay a step ahead from here on out.
“Where are we going?” you call to Corbin from across the deck.
“Death’s Maw!” is the somewhat ominous answer you receive in return.
Then, because you can’t help yourself, you glance around for Simon. He is standing at the bow, gripping the railing as he stares at the shifting sands, and as you study his grim expression, you finally begin to realize just how little you know about him.
Corbin and Skipper drop you off in an abandoned village set among jagged hills at the edge of Death’s Maw. One brief look around is enough to prove that the term ‘village’ is overly generous; there is nothing here but a few crystal-blasted trees.
“I’ve got to get the Scrivener back to Galyad,” Corbin says as you disembark. “You’ll have to head out on your own from here. Keep heading east.”
“We'll be okay, thank you! Be safe on your way back,” you tell him, and the ship creaks as it turns back toward the open sands.
The others are fanning out, examining the area. Ogden finds a few stones that might have once been a building, and Gaul gently unearths a broken pot, but no other signs of life remain. Eleanor is shivering with dismay at the sight of such total devastation, and you realize she must be thinking of home. You touch her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I should have tried harder to picture Vermeil’s suffering,” you say quietly.
“Please – let’s just go,” she replies, and you nod and turn to gather the others.
Simon is nowhere to be seen.
“You should go to him,” Kora tells you. “He didn’t look too good when he got off the ship.”
It’s probably a bad idea, but you’ll never be able to leave Simon in pain, no matter how bad things are between you. You find yourself moving almost before you can agree, unable to control the worry that swells up in you as you search.
You skirt around a few crystalized trees and find him standing in front of the ruins of a mill. You can only tell it existed at all because of the weathered millstone on the ground. There are birds nested in the huge crack down the middle.
“Are you alright?” you ask him.
He jumps at the sound of your voice but doesn’t turn. A flash of blue catches your eye; he’s holding a small Velocidrome doll. It is stiff with age and dotted with crystals. When it’s clear he has no intention of answering, you sigh and let your shoulders sag.
“We should go. The others are trying to decide the best path out of here.”
Simon turns his head slightly, and you follow his gaze to an old road leading toward a deep gorge just outside the abandoned village.
“This way,” is all he says, and the sense of surrealness you first felt on the ship comes back to you even stronger.
“How do you know?” you manage.
He just drops the doll and begins to walk, leaving you no choice but to call out to the others and follow.
The road seems to end abruptly, but as you continue along you see it actually winds down a cliff face at the top of the huge escarpment in front of you. You squint down into it, wondering how to continue, but Simon steps past you and whistles for Fawn. You and the rest of the Rangers exchange troubled looks. Something is very wrong here, but you only have the vaguest guesses as to what.
A moment later, you and Ratha are in the air, gliding after him.
“Have you been here before?” you call up to him.
He doesn’t look back, but you see a muscle in his cheek twitch.
“How could you have been here before?”
“I – ” His voice is so tortured that you grip your saddle harder, confused and desperate in the face of his obvious pain.
“This is where Amara found me,” he says at last, and you go cold all over.
“Simon?”
The narrow cliff faces pinch closer, and you’re forced to drop back. Simon flies on like a man possessed, not looking anywhere but ahead. Meanwhile, it is everything you can do just to stay in your saddle. The others keep calling out, keep asking where you’re going and if you’re alright, but you can’t seem to find your voice. You can hardly seem to think.
Amara had found him here, beyond the Meridian?
Under what circumstances?
And had your mother sent him to you?
If so, why hadn’t she returned with him? And why hasn’t he told you any of this before now?
What else does he know that you don’t?
“Simon!” you cry, but before you can ask him any more questions, there is a familiar roar from above you and a shadow falls across you where there should be none.
You look up just as a Rathalos plummets out of the clear blue sky. A battle-bound Rathalos. And on his back…Fiero.
Fawn plunges between you and the other Rathalos, knocking it just off-course enough to save you and Ratha from its claws.
“Simon!” you yell, but he throws up a hand to silence you.
“No!” he shouts at Fiero as he circles back around. “Not her! She’s off-limits!”
The Vermeilian sneers. “How predictable. Tell me, do you truly intend to die for your precious princess? Or is this all still a ruse to keep her from guessing?”
No. Nonono. You can’t believe it. You won’t believe it. But Fiero smiles down at you, so cold and smug that you shiver.
“Oh yes, princess. It’s true. Your loyal Simon is a Vermeilian spy…and has been from the first.”
You turn to look at Simon, and though you hate yourself for showing weakness in this moment, tears well up in your eyes all the same.
“It’s not true,” you say through numb lips.
His eyes are full of anguish. “Princess – ”
Fiero rolls his eyes. “These dramatics are touching but unnecessary. I have no intention of harming the princess, so there is no need for you to throw your life away trying to save her. After all, she must be presentable for our wedding.”
“NO!” Eleanor shouts from somewhere behind you, but you’re still looking at Simon. You can’t look anywhere but Simon, not even if your life depends on it.
“There will be no wedding,” he says, tearing his gaze from yours to glare up at Fiero.
“Oh? She can hardly be of any use to Vermeil without one, and if she is of no use…” Fiero shrugs, and the Rathalos begins gathering flames in its open mouth, flames so hot they’re tinged with blue. The monster is aiming right for you, and you’re still too frozen with the shock of Simon’s betrayal to even attempt to dodge –
– but Fawn dives between you and the fire, and Simon rises to stand in his saddle and spreads his arms, shielding you further from harm.
“The princess is already married. To me,” Simon says, and silence falls over the gorge.
Part Two of... let's be honest, I have no idea. Maybe four?
Pairing: Simon x F! Heir/F! Reader
Word count: 4459
Spoilers: Spoils the last boss of Act 2
Part One
The days since your leap of faith at the Meridian have been filled with discovery. The Rangers have never been busier, and you all tend to collapse onto your pallets in Sheparden or at camp in utter exhaustion as you rush to document every facet of the Canalta Timberland’s ecology. It’s been a time of excitement for all of you, but now that Sheparden’s safety has been secured and the canyne’s population is steadily recovering, you know it’s time to move on. Much as you’d like to stay and immerse yourself in more habitat restoration beneath the Dragonreach’s mighty peaks, your real path lies beyond them.
Corbin and PK have already plotted out tomorrow’s route (not without a fair amount of good-natured bickering), yet your mind keeps drifting back to the Meridian when you should be thinking of Galyad. Sometimes you still can't believe that the Wyverian gatekeeper had allowed you to pass through, and you’re certain you never would have made it this far without your friends. Being on the run would have been a fearful thing if not for their constant support. Because of them, you find it hard to regret your decision to leave Azuria behind. No one else seems to be harboring any regrets either, even long after the adrenaline has worn off.
You close your eyes and remember how had felt to stand at the border of your known world. The bank of clouds had been as endless as the horizon, and the knowledge that if you took this next step, you were going to become a fugitive back home had made your feet feel like lead. Had every single one of your friends, even Eleanor, not shown themselves to be absolutely fearless, you might have turned back – but then Simon’s hand had clasped your shoulder.
“You just keep on making me believe in fate…” His smile had chased away the last fears you’d harbored. “We’re with you. Lead the way, Princess.”
That had been days ago, but the moment played out in your dreams sometimes, along with that first heady flight beyond your father’s reach.
Since then, the revelations have been nonstop. Through it all, your friends have been working nearly to the point of collapse, but there’s so much to document and explore that you can hardly blame them. In fact, you’re often up until the early hours of the morning with them, recording each new discovery by torchlight while Eleanor whips up fortifying snacks. Gaul keeps saying he’s going to live off of his rations if she doesn’t stop making food with bug meat, but in the end he always winds up eating anyway. Meanwhile, Thea darts through the camp as though she’s part wirebug, eagerly absorbing everything Ogden has to say about ecology and its effect on the local monsters. Kora watches over them all with a sort of fond indulgence, but before long she’s usually out sifting through piles of ore samples, exasperated by all the noise.
As for Simon – well, he seems to be everywhere you are.
It’s especially noticeable at camp, when you all share a single tent, so you really can’t help but bump into each other. You’re bumping into everyone; it isn’t as though he’s special. But even you’re aware of the fact that you look at him more often than you ever have before. It’s as though the brief forehead kiss had awakened something in you, and you can’t help but be extremely cognizant of every moment that might be perceived as unduly intimate between you. You flush every time he reaches around you to point out an unexplored spot on the map, or when your fingers brush when you pass each other notebooks or tools. You catch yourself watching him write, stretch, climb and even nap, and though you jerk your eyes away every time you realize you’ve been staring too long, you’re sure the others haven’t failed to notice.
You’d always assumed you weren’t interested in marriage, and King Arken’s orders had initially seemed to harden your resolve to avoid it…right up until Simon had brushed a simple kiss to your head. You often touch the spot where his lips had been and think that if Simon could be the man…well, maybe a union like that wouldn’t be so bad after all. In many ways you know it would be easy, almost a natural extension of the deep care and affection that already exists between you. And while you probably shouldn’t indulge these little flights of fancy too frequently, he isn’t exactly making it easy on you.
It’s little stuff, like the way he smiles at you like you share a secret. Or how you keep catching glimpses of him relaxing with the others in nothing but weathered breeches, soft gloves and a moofah-wool shirt. He has this habit of running cool water from the cataracts down his neck after battling the local monsters, which you are sure is going to drive you mad one of these days. And if that doesn’t do it, it will be the way he goes about helping Eleanor prep meals with those deft little movements of his knife, all while chatting happily with Gaul and Ogden about the peculiarities of the region. Or...well, the list goes on and on.
Maybe it’s time to admit it, even if just to yourself: you are hopelessly, embarrassingly infatuated with him, and it only took almost getting trapped in an arranged marriage for you to realize it. You really must be too obsessed with your work, because how else could you have failed to notice?
You force yourself to shake it off. You know you won’t sleep if you don’t get your mind off of Simon, so you refocus on the details of the upcoming journey. A noise comes from not far off: it is Ratha rumbling gently in his sleep. The moon is slipping silently across the night sky, and the Drangonreach Mountains are visible beyond the rooftops as a sort of jagged black space amongst the stars. Much as you’re eager to move on, there is a beauty to this land that you will miss when you cross into the desert.
“Hey, Captain.” Gaul can be nearly as silent as his palicos when he puts his mind to it, and you start a little at the sound of his voice drifting through the night. A second later he’s dropping to the floorboards beside you with a gratified sigh. He’s probably been on his feet for a while. “Getting ready for tomorrow?”
You murmur an affirmative, and then gesture to the waterfalls behind the village. “I was just thinking that we’ve been taking all this water for granted. We’ll miss it if things in Tarkuan are as dry as Corbin says.”
He nods. “According to him, there’s an oasis…but our monsties won’t be the only ones looking for a drink.” He too considers the nearby waterfall. “You know, Murray hasn’t found even a hint that anyone from Azuria is looking for us. I mean, the crown princess goes missing overnight, and no one tries to find her?”
A frisson of discomfort runs through you. “You’re right, that is suspicious.”
“Corbin and PK seem to be on the level,” Gaul adds, “but I get the feeling that we might end up getting herded into a trap one of these days. I wanted to put your guard up.”
“I appreciate it,” you reply. He clasps your shoulder for a moment as he clamors back to his feet, but he pauses before he disappears toward your temporary accommodations.
“Hey – I just wanted to say…” It’s too dark for you to get a good read on his expression, but there’s an embarrassed note in Gaul’s voice which speaks volumes about his level of discomfort. “I just wanna say, Kora told me what your father tried to do. I’m glad we got out of there in time. You deserve your freedom, princess or no.”
You smile at him. “Thanks Gaul. That means a lot.”
“Sure,” he replies, and ducks through the doorway as quickly as he can.
You turn to watch the steady rise and fall of Ratha’s chest as he sleeps, hoping it will soothe you.
Freedom. It’s yours for now, but one day you’ll have to go back to Azuria, and it isn’t as though Arken is famous for changing his mind.
That’s a problem for another day, you tell yourself firmly, but you know it isn’t likely to slip your mind any time soon.
“Can’t say I’ve ever fought a mountain before,” Ogden says as he drops to the dirt in the aftermath of Yama Tsukami’s onslaught. You’ve all paused to take stock of your injuries and supplies, and Thea is still eyeing the neighboring cliffsides with distrust. Kora is wrapping Gaul’s wrist while he quietly instructs Murray to scout ahead, and Eleanor is frowning at the pit left behind by the elder dragon’s retreat.
You’re watching Kol descend the mountain pass toward Sheparden while Simon studies the sky in the direction Yama Tsukami had flown off in.
“I’d like to avoid fighting one again,” Kora says, glancing over at her father-in-law. “I prefer my mountains full of ore, not thunderbugs.”
“Agreed.” Eleanor turns to you with a furrowed brow. “If crystallisis is even capable of corrupting the elder dragons…”
“I know.” Your heart sinks. “We need to hurry.”
“Now you understand Clarissa’s desperation. Our people’s suffering is a heavy burden. She’ll avoid open hostilities for a short time, but I can’t promise for how long.”
You’ve had this conversation more than once since crossing the Meridian, but Eleanor looks so miserable that you wish you could think of something to say to alleviate some of her distress.
“We got no way of knowing what’s going on from up here. We just have to keep walking our path and let the king manage as best he can.” Ogden gets back to his feet and pats your arm as he passes you on his way to the far side of the clearing. “Come on, daylight’s wasting.”
“The old man’s right. Galyad’s still a long way off,” Gaul says, and Ogden gives him a half-hearted shove in retaliation for the “old man” comment. They fall in behind Corbin and PK side-by-side, still trading insults back-and-forth in their familiar way.
Thea finally shakes off her nerves and skips after them with Pookie tucked on her hip, but you hesitate before following.
“I’m…having some qualms,” you admit to Simon and Eleanor when the others are out of earshot. “It feels as though I’ve abandoned my duty to my people while they all remain in danger.”
Simon opens his mouth, frowns, and closes it again. Eleanor glances between you both and spins away with a restless swing of her arms.
“I understand what you mean, but if you hadn’t left…” She hesitates. “There’s a very high likelihood that your father was preparing to marry you off to a Vermeilian.”
The thought has crossed your mind once or twice as well, but Simon’s little jerk of realization tells you he had not considered it at all. Immediately, his finger begins a restless tapping against his leg.
“I can think of only one man of sufficient rank and influence to be offered as consort to a crown princess,” she continues, and a pit opens in your stomach as you realize who she must be talking about.
“Fiero,” you say, and Eleanor turns back to you with a nod.
“It may be a genuine attempt at an alliance, but Fiero would never stop pursuing Vermeil’s agenda. He and Clarissa must believe that you will agree to what your father would not. He’s always had ambition; I wouldn’t be surprised if he sought to rule both nations sooner rather than later. If anything were to happen to Clarissa, he’s got enough support to be elected king. And with you as a wife…”
“But what incentive is there for Father to agree to any of that?” you protest, while Simon adds, “The council would never approve,” at nearly the same time. But you glance at each other in mutual doubt; you’ve never been popular in Azuria, and no one has any faith in your leadership. Perhaps this is how the privy council intends to tuck you out of the way while they pursue other plans for the succession.
“It doesn’t matter who he might have in mind, or what concessions Vermiel might have offered to get the king to agree,” Simon says. His tapping ceases and he straightens his shoulders, then looks you square in the face. “And no matter what machinations those stuffed shirts on the privy council have planned, none of it solves the real problem. If they think to use you as a pawn, then removing you from the board throws a wrench in their schemes and that can only be a good thing. For Azuria and for you.”
“But it doesn’t safeguard our people from war,” you murmur.
He takes your arm, cradling it gently against his own. “Maybe not, but marrying you off wouldn’t guarantee peace either.” He squeezes you. “Let’s continue our work. If we stop the encroachment, we strip away any reason for fighting in the first place.”
“That assumes there is a way to stop the encroachment.” Eleanor’s expression is pensive, but Simon shakes his head, rejecting her doubts.
“There is. There must be. Have faith, Princess,” he says, and you force yourself to look into his amber eyes before you give a brief nod. This whole journey has been an exercise in having faith; you may as well see how far it can get you.
The swamp swallows you almost as soon as you enter. One second you’d been carefully picking a path through the dark waters and soggy marshland, and the next there had been a roar and a rush of muck. The current had been irresistible: even as your friends had struggled to reach each other and firm ground, you had slipped further and further away until the thick flow of mud had swallowed you whole. Now you wake alone, with their cries still ringing in your ears, and you are completely disoriented.
Rudy would be having a fit about the state of you. You’re just glad that you’re able to use all of your limbs. There had been a fair bit of debris in that mudslide, and you are battered and sore. You don’t even want to think about what sort of infection might set in if there is an open wound on you somewhere under the filth. You can’t do anything about it until you’ve found a safe place to shelter from all the wild monsters you can hear in the mist, so you push your concerns away and set about picking a careful path across the treacherous bogland.
As you slosh your way toward firmer ground, you give yourself a quick once-over and take stock of your gear. Most of it is intact, and you breathe out a long sigh of relief. You may not know where the others are, but at least you’re not completely defenseless. The Rangers will be combing the marsh for you, and with Ratha’s help the search shouldn’t take too long. He’s always known how to find you.
The thought quiets the worst of your worries…until a conspicuous bubbling tells you that they won’t find you soon enough. Already the mud is rising fast, lifting as quickly as a sea tide, and you fight for your footing even as your hand reaches for a weapon.
There is a horrible sucking sound before you can finish the movement, and an almudron lurches up from the bog.
It isn’t feral, thank goodness, but you have nothing but your weapons, a few bombs and knives and a couple of traps. Without Ratha or your other monsties, you are horribly outmatched.
But there’s no choice. You’ll have to hold it off as long as possible and hope that the sounds of battle will be enough to guide the others to you. At least with the almudron focused on you, it can’t attempt to sweep them away with another mudflow.
You engage it quickly, hoping that the monster won’t be expecting you to lash out first. It’s obvious after a few minutes that you won’t be able to keep up this pace for long. You’re still bogged down by mud, and every attack is taking far more effort than it should.
Trap it, you think, fumbling in your pouches for one – and then a fireball explodes against the almudron’s face, followed by blades of ice. Your head jerks up for the briefest look, but it’s enough for you to recognize Ratha and Fawn carving their way toward you through the mists – and enough to recognize Simon on Fawn’s back, charging to your rescue once again.
Ratha’s claws plunge into the segmented shell protecting the leviathan’s neck as Simon guides Fawn around to send another burst of ice at the monster’s flank. It costs him, however: a frantic sweep of the almudron’s tail raises up a huge wall of mud, and Simon is thrown from Fawn’s back as they both crash into the marsh.
Your insides turn to ice as he disappears into the muck for a moment. “Simon!”
Ratha detaches from the almudron with a vicious rake of his claws, but even his flames can’t drive the thing away from Simon’s prone body. His head appears, then his arms as he tries to drag himself through the mud toward Fawn, and the legiana shrieks as she tries to fling shards of ice into her opponent’s eyes.
It’s not enough. The leviathan raises its clawed forepaw and plunges it down into Simon’s back. You dart forward and attack the leg, but the monster is crushing him down deep into the mud. You see him twisting, desperate for air, and you drop your weapon to try to drag him away, knowing that you’ve left yourself completely vulnerable to attack but uncaring as you pull at your friend’s arm. Your grip keeps slipping, and there are tears on your face as you try again and again –
– a wave of static passes over your body, sending tingles across your skin –
– the scent of ozone fills your nostrils –
– there is a white light which blooms into something closer to purple –
“Your Highness!” Rudy screams, and he digs his lightning-wreathed paws into the almudron’s eyes while Thea directs Kagachi to let loose with another burst of electricity. A second later, Kora’s volley explodes into the monster’s side just where Legia had landed a direct hit, and it reels away from you and Simon both.
You seize the opportunity. While the almudron turns its wrath on your friends, you get your hands under Simon’s shoulders and haul him back toward dry land. The whole ordeal is over just a few heartbeats later; the monster is no match for the combined might of the Rangers.
You collapse as soon as Simon is safe, and a second later small paws touch your face as you attempt to catch your breath.
“Rudy.” Your voice cracks with emotion. “Rudy, you found us.”
The felyne is just as moved as you are. He clings to you and can’t manage to say anything but “Your highness!” over and over.
Once the excitement has died down and you and Simon have refreshed yourselves a bit, the Rangers gather around you and Rudy. Your palico’s expression is grave as he looks up at you.
“The king has ordered a small group of the Azurian guard across the Meridian to search for you and bring you home, against your will if they must.”
Gaul grunts. “Like we’d let that happen.”
“Yeah, no way we’d just hand over our captain!” Thea adds, hands on her hips. Her ferocity brings a smile to Ogden’s lips, but he wisely keeps silent.
“I believe some of them are ahead, waiting in the city of Galyad. So far the Scriveners have refused to help, citing their own duties, but I believe the guardsmen are authorized to offer a reward for your capture.”
Rudy’s eyes are apologetic as he looks up at you. “I fear the net is closing in around you.”
Your stomach twists. “Yes,” you agree softly, “it seems that way.”
“Any way around Galyad?” Ogden asks Corbin.
“Oh sure, but it isn’t easy going. And I thought you needed to speak with the Scriveners.”
“We’ll have to make do without them,” you say. “I don’t love the idea of continuing on to the Sacrosanctum blind, but I can’t risk being taken.”
“So let’s get those guys out of our way.” Gaul steps forward, urging you all to listen close. “Rudy here can go to them and say he’s heard rumors of riders back in Sheparden. There’s enough evidence that we’ve been through there to keep them busy for a while. Heck, they might get stuck in the Muddled Marsh before they even get there. Meanwhile, we camp out in the badlands until they’re gone, and when we’re sure it’s safe, a couple of us can sneak into the city and bring someone from the guild back with us.”
He looks at each of you, then shrugs. “Should be easy.”
It’s the best plan you’ve got. You turn to Rudy.
“I know I’m asking you to deceive your king,” you say, keeping your tone carefully gentle and respectful as you address him, “but if you want to keep protecting me, this is the best way to do it. I promise I’ll be back as soon as we find some answers, but if I’m dragged home now – ”
Rudy hesitates. You brace yourself for his refusal – he’s always been so dedicated to the royal family that even considering your request must be torture for him – but then he nods, and there’s a determined glint in his eye he only gets when he’s hell-bent on keeping you safe.
“Very well. I will lead them away on a false trail, but you must hurry, Princess. The ruse won’t fool them for long.”
“We will.” You fling your arms around him, and he only makes a token protest (you are still very muddy, after all) before he melts into your embrace.
You squeeze him tighter and think it is a blessing beyond measure to have such brave, steadfast friends. You only hope you can find some way to pay them back.
Simon finds you that night. He’s scrubbed down as best he can, aided by water he’s made from melting some of Fawn’s ice, and he’s down to the plain shirt-and-breeches getup he usually wears when the day’s work is done. Just a glimpse of him sends your heart racing, and there’s no hiding the blush on your cheeks as he picks his way across the damp ground to stop at your side.
Your arms brush gently as you stand there side-by-side, listening to the placid flow of the marsh water. You’ve found a hideaway to set up camp for the night, well off the beaten trail and shrouded by mud and mist. Tomorrow you’ll move on into the badlands, hiding among the huge crystal pillars that Corbin has described to you in detail. That’s where you’ll stay while Rudy executes the diversion, but tonight you’re all too tired to press on. It’s not where you would have liked to rest, but at least there’s very little chance of being discovered here.
“You alright?” he asks softly after a long silence.
“Yeah.” You’ll probably be finding mud in unmentionable places for a while, but you don’t have any major injuries. “You?”
“I’ll live.” His grin is rueful. “I’m not sure Gaul was thrilled with me, but he can make a mean poultice.”
He plucks at a loose thread on his sleeve, and you watch his gloved fingers as they work. Easier to look at his hands than his face, although you do wonder sometimes what it would feel like if he lifted his hands to your face and –
No. Those are dangerous thoughts to be harboring here, where there are still monsters lurking in the dark and no privacy to be had in the safer environs of the tent. You clench your hands together and force yourself to imagine other things. It…sort of works. Not really.
“Your father is pretty determined to get you back.” Simon’s voice is guarded and his face carefully blank. “Guess I don’t blame him, but I hate seeing you so worried.”
“I never expected him to send anyone after us. He’s always been so adamant about honoring the covenant.” You examine a long scrape across the back of your hand. “I suppose my wedding will happen as soon as we get back – “ Simon makes a low noise you can’t decipher at this – “so I’m only delaying the inevitable.”
He doesn’t answer. Your heart feels as though it’s squeezing in on itself. You think of that kiss again, the tenderness of his lips against your skin, and the thought of anyone else touching you that way sends a wave of revulsion through you.
“Simon…” Your voice is tentative. What you’re about to suggest is crazy. He almost certainly doesn’t feel for you the same things you now know you feel for him, and once you give voice to your hopes you won’t be able to take them back.
Your courage fails. You can’t do it. What you were about to say will destroy your friendship, and lately that friendship is the only thing getting you through the day.
Simon leans forward to catch your gaze. You hadn’t realized it, but you’ve gone tense and silent with apprehension. Your knuckles are white from gripping your own hands, and there’s a small tremor in your breathing. No one but Simon would have noticed, but there’s no hiding your distress from him.
“What is it?” he asks, turning you slowly toward him. He takes your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs into your palms in soothing circles. The leather of his gloves is soft, and his hands are very warm. You watch as he cradles you as though you are something precious, and a fissure opens in your heart.
You gather your courage once more.
“My father…he couldn’t force me to wed if…” Your chest is tight with equal parts hope and fear, but you force yourself to lift your head and speak.
You’re looking right into his eyes when you say it: “He couldn’t force me to wed if I was already married.”
And because you’re looking directly into his eyes when you say it, you see the exact moment he catches your meaning…and decides to refuse you.
Hello friends let's talk geography and political motivations today!!!
Today's rambling TED talk is brought to you by this snippet of map that we see in Act 1. Here is a more complete map of the entire region, but I still stand by my initial assessment.
For the longest time I couldn't quite wrap my head around why Vermeil was so ready to just jump straight to war as it seemed a waste of their limited resources, even though it made sense why they wanted Azuria's buy-in for their trip to the Sacrosanctum. Because even if Azuria didn't send a lot of people with the Vermeilian expedition, they're far better equipped to offer infrastructure and provisions to a long trip. But to delay the already hazardous trip further with an entire war seemed excessive (especially when Fiero seemed to frame the war moreso as a side project to the ultimate goal of reaching the Sacrosanctum), until you got a good look at the geography.
Azuria is literally guarding one of the only feasible ways from Vermeil to the Sacrosanctum. As a largely land-based calvary and infantry military might, Vermeil would naturally have preferred an overland route north. However, our direct border with Vermeil has long since been sealed off entirely with a massive fortified wall in the pass. It is specifically noted by Glazer that Vermeil has no flying wyvern brigade. We do see Tobi-Kadachis within Vermeil's ranks, but as they're more gliders than true fliers that really puts them at a disadvantage when faced with clearing the sealed border and then, crucially, remaining out of reach of Azurian retaliation.
The second potential way to the Sacrosanctum is by sea. Azuria has the massive Mirror Lake, but we are largely locked in by mountains on all sides and there doesn't appear to be easy access to the sea. Vermeil appears to have a few more openings within their mountains to get them to the ocean, and given that they don't have strong flight capabilities (and are known for it), I think it's quite reasonable to assume that Vermeil had some sort of navy at one point to make up for it. But after heavy battering with the Encroachment, deathdrift, and subsequent famine, it's most likely been in steep decline--shipyards were most likely shuttered and operations drawn further inland as people tried to concentrate around their few remaining resources.
But even if the base of a navy wasn't gutted, Vermeil was already struggling to feed its home population, so there is very little chance that they have the reserves necessary to provision any extended sea voyage. Azuria has no ports, and it doesn't appear that there are any major islands/stopping points along the sea route north, so there are no places for a Vermeillian fleet to refuel. Clarissa (through Fiero) always used pretty strong language in terms of describing the amount of strength that they thought was necessary in order to fully take back the Sacrosanctum, but even a modest fleet would starve long before they even got halfway up the coast.
So Vermeil has no choice but to initiate "peace talks" with Azuria, even with an entire two centuries worth of deep-seated enmity between the two countries. There is no other possible way for them to even begin to approach the Sacrosanctum. And there were three potential outcomes from these talks, ordered below in least to most likely:
Azuria fully agrees to back Vermeil's bid to the Sacrosanctum (or do they?)
Alternatively known as Vermeil's "too good to be true" option, where Azuria gives Vermeil access to their high road and foots the majority of the bill in terms of provisioning the group and adding their own men to the expedition. Now we have the funding and the manpower to venture into the great unknowns past the Meridian Gate, on the route that will be easiest to navigate for our forces! However!
The Sacrosanctum is said to have been a castle from the era where Azuria and Vermeil were one combined kingdom, yet the Vermeillian envoys are very clear in detailing that Queen Clarissa wished to claim it exclusively for Vermeil. On paper this seems fine, since no one's using this castle anyway at the moment. But what exactly does that mean? By Eleanor's own admission, Vermeil has suffered an extended period of crop failure. At the point in time when both countries first sit down together, removing the Encroachment entirely really isn't a feasible option on anyone's radar, and even if it was, it could take several additional years to get the fields back up and running to the point where they can sustain an entire population. So when Clarissa decries that she wants the Sacrosanctum for her country, we have to assume she means this with the full intent of moving as many of her people there as possible. This is a steep journey to demand of a malnourished population. Furthermore, it cuts right through Azuria, whose fields are productive and are in the middle of harvest at the time the Vermeilian delegation arrives.
If Clarissa does not lose many of her people to hunger or strain on the journey itself, how many would she lose because they saw Azuria's verdant fields, compared it with the unknown of the Sacrosanctum, and decided it would be better to settle in Azuria? So this plan starts to fall apart when you start considering the long-term implications of what will happen when Azuria "inevitably" goes to collect on their debt of assistance (remember that Eleanor told us right to our faces that she thought our king was a cruel despot, so surely that means any aid will come with a steep price.)
Azuria allows the Vermeillian expedition to pass through, but does not expressly offer any additional supplies/men in the process.
The expedition would be allowed to cross through on Azuria's high road to the Meridian Gates. Any additional supplies they would need for their journey would have to be procured with their own coin, which would strain the already stretched coffers given the desperate situation back home. Not ideal, as the whole point in engaging with Azuria was to try to alleviate the burden of attempting this journey to the Sacrosanctum solo, but would avoid outright bloodshed. If they have some savvy quartermasters, might be feasible.
But again, this runs into the major problems of Option 1: how is Clarissa going to fully utilize the Sacrosanctum once she claims it, and how can she prevent Azuria from swooping in and taking "their" slice of the pie?
Vermeil forcibly brings Azuria onto their plan through war
Vermeil must bring Azuria to heel in order to fully capitalize on its resources and prevent the king from backstabbing them at the end. Vermeil is clearly very confident in their battle-binding, and this isn't unfounded, since it's proven to us in subsequent battle cutscenes. Their Rathalos is battle-bound as well, and I think many would have been gambling on Ratha V being stronger than Ratha in battle if they can get Azuria's heir out on the field (and of course they will, because Arken will have to send them out regardless, since the Rathalos in and of itself is a symbol of might that both countries have co-opted).
For the small price of immediate violence, Vermeil is looking to obtain massive gains in terms of fertile agricultural grounds, established infrastructure, and less migratory strain on an already over-taxed people. And remember that Clarissa doesn't even know what's in the Sacrosanctum! It's more being used as a highly-idealized symbol for past might, some ever-shining beacon of hope, but in reality it's just a massive ruin in the middle of an icy wasteland. Maybe Fiero had his wild "let's battle-bind Aenshin" plan hatched way before, but that, compared to Azuria? The Sacrosanctum in practice is most likely a myth told to motivate the people, and the true goal was always Azuria.
But wait! What's up with the agents in Galyad!?
Vermeil is sitting on a veritable gold mine of egg quartz that is coveted by much of the rest of the world. Eleanor expresses several times that she finds the frivolous use of egg quartz in fanciful accessories distasteful, but we already know that both Vermeil and Azuria use egg quartz in more practical applications, such as lighting. I imagine that removing egg quartz from one's property is a never-ending chore in Vermeil, and what they don't have in quality (size, etc.), they can make up for in sheer quantity.
But even before that, I find it hard to believe that any ministers in Vermeil would have allowed Amara to marry Arken without some provision of aid to Vermeil. She would simply know too much about the country to be allowed to go free without anything in return. But based on the huge amount of vitriol that Clarissa has against Amara in Act 5, we can conclude that whatever aid was hammered out in those negotiations dried out rather quickly, whether that be from Azuria reneging on their promise or because the ministers were unable to predict just how badly the Encroachment would have gotten in the ten years since.
I dislike that Vermeil's knowledge about Galyad's egg trade is suggested to be a new thing that they only learned about in the month or so after the story really kicks off. That just seems highly unfeasible to me. For one, there's Simon, who is proof that people existed beyond the Meridian and would shown them that in the "many years" in which he was an agent of Vermeil. And the village at Death's Maw was known to the Guild in Galyad for a while before they were destroyed! So Simon, even at the tender age of 9, would have known that there is a trade in egg quartz. I think it's more realistic to assume that Vermeil has always had a trickle of a reach through the Pass and the Wastes, built because they were desperate to import resources once whatever pittance they were getting from Amara/Azuria dried up. They might not have the capability to outfit a fleet for a full run on the Sacrosanctum, but to cover the shorter distance between Vermeil and the mainland, and then rely on an overland route which their monsters are more equipped for? That could potentially have been done.
So realistically I think there was always a whisper of a Vermeilian presence in Galyad, but we would have never known that before now, because we've never left our peninsula. This is why there's a network of potential assassins for Vermeil to call upon to set on our party, because it's been a network that's been ten years in the making. Perhaps the true reason Vermeil can't allow us into the Sacrosanctum is because the entire justification for war with Azuria dies away when you realize that there is nothing there, at that final place of false hope. We even say it right to Clarissa's face at the second peace meeting
Crazily enough though, I think this is the final key Fiero needed in order to really sell his wild "battle-binding an elder" scheme to Clarissa. This was the true "do-or-die" stage if they wanted to have any hope of obtaining something better for the people ("starving and homeless," as Clarissa puts it, with nowhere left to go and no more time remaining to wait). Azuria has also conveniently put themselves--once more--in the position of antagonists in Vermeil's attempts to save themselves, so it would have been easy for Fiero to drum up the support for the final push (and thus ironically turning the Sacrosanctum from a mythical symbol of hope into an actuality).
TLDR: war was inevitable, the Sacrosanctum wasn't actually the true goal for much of the whole conflict, and everything stems from the never-ending question of how are we going to resource-manage Vermeil through it all.
Pairing: Simon x F! Heir/F! Reader
Word count: 2380
Spoilers: None (in part 1)
Summary: After the disastrous meeting with Vermeil's envoys, your father has commanded you to marry. This news is a serious blow to your hopes of stopping the encroachment, saving both Azuria and Vermeil, and choosing your own future - and Simon knows it. Instead of sitting back and watching you sacrifice your hopes and happiness for the supposed good of the realm, he comes up with a bold plan of his own.
You don’t remember when exactly you had started to dread royal summons, but at some point during your childhood, visits to the throne room had stopped seeming like something exciting and grown up and had become instead ordeals to be endured. Today had proved to be no exception. The look on Arken’s face as you approached his throne should have been a warning; it was the expression he wore whenever he set aside his role as your father in order to be your king, and it had never meant good news for you.
But even braced for difficult tidings, you still hadn’t been prepared for the command he had issued just moments ago.
You stumble away from the main stronghold toward your (mercifully) empty base on legs that are still numb with shock. Your father had just informed you that you were to marry. You can barely think of the word without your stomach twisting into knots, but he’d made it very clear that you were to be wed as soon as a ceremony could be arranged.
Why now? you think. Tensions with Vermeil have never been higher; surely the privy council has better things to do than to arrange your nuptials. And while it’s undeniably true that the dynasty is teetering on the brink of extinction, what with only you and your father left to prop it up, the sudden rush to wed some noble and produce the next heir is incomprehensible to you.
Besides that, which noble are you supposed wed? It isn’t as though Azuria is overflowing with eligible candidates.
Please don’t let it be Glazer’s son is all that runs through your mind as you edge past Ogden’s chair to slump into a seat closer to the table. Your head tips back until you’re studying the familiar masonry of the ceiling. It offers cold comfort, however: the very stones of the castle are a reminder that you are as much a princess as a Ranger, no matter how much you might wish things were different.
“There you are, Captain!” Kora’s voice cuts through your disgruntled thoughts, and you sit forward as she strides toward you from the direction of the airstrip with Thea in tow. They’re windblown and grinning with excitement, and Thea is already launching into a story about the egg quartz they’d just discovered in a cavern nearby when Kora catches sight of your expression.
“Thea,” she says, though her eyes are on you, “can you please go tell Gaul about the medicinal herbs we found at the mouth of the cave? He’ll want to gather as many as he can before our next mission.”
Thea cuts off mid-sentence and glances between you both with a confused look, but she doesn’t protest. She disappears with a wave and a, “see you soon, Captain!” and then you’re all alone with Kora and her penetrating gaze.
“What happened?” she asks. You try to smile, though it can’t be very convincing if her frown is anything to go by.
“My father summoned me,” you tell her. “And he…he and the council have decided that it’s time for me to – well, get married.”
It is a testament to her shock that Kora is silent. She normally always knows what to say, but this time she only stares at you as though you’ve grown another head.
“I…suppose it isn’t so unusual,” she says at last, though she doesn’t sound as though she believes it. “You are a crown princess. It’s more surprising that you haven’t been married off already.”
“The daughter of the turncoat queen? I doubt I’m all that great of a prize, even if I come with a kingdom as a dowry.” You sigh; it’s more bitter than you’d meant it to be, but you’re not entirely in control of your emotions right now.
Kora is having none of it. “You’re worth far more than a kingdom, Princess. And you’ll have more suitors than you know what to do with, I can promise you that. But you don’t look as though you want suitors.”
“I don’t. All I want is to get on with my work. It feels like the only thing that can save us – and Vermeil as well.”
Kora moves to sit across from you, taking a chair on the far side of the table. The surprise has faded from her expression, but she still looks troubled.
“Has he chosen your groom?”
You shake your head, shivering as a breeze sweeps up from the lake. “If he has, he hasn’t mentioned any names.”
She blows out a sigh and turns her face into the wind. “I didn’t realize he was so worried about the succession.”
A chill goes through you. “Maybe he doesn’t expect to survive this conflict with Vermeil.”
“It isn’t a conflict yet – at least not a violent one,” Kora reminds you. “Your father is safe, I promise. And Eleanor is here. She is our shield, at least for now.”
It had been brave of her to offer herself as a hostage. You’d like to think you’d have done the same in her shoes. She has bought you and Azuria valuable time, but already it's beginning to run out.
“If it is about the succession, it’s just that I’m not even sure I want – ”
“Of course not. You’re young, and motherhood is a huge commitment. So is marriage, for that matter. It can be wonderful,” she adds with a smile, and you know she’s thinking of Lucas, “but without being able to choose for yourself…”
“Do you really think the king will let me choose for myself?” There’s a bitter twist to your lips you can’t seem to control. “It’s not as though my input has ever mattered before, and doubtless the council has a list of potential husbands ready to – ”
“Husbands?”
It’s funny: Simon is usually the person you’re most eager to see, but just now he happens to be the last person you want to break this news to. And you never would have chosen to break the news to him like this, as a bit of overheard whinging about your fate.
You turn to see him standing just outside the pavilion, and there is no word that can capture the look on his face. Confusion is there, yes, and surprise…but there’s something else too. Fear? Sadness? You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you feel your own heart start to crack in response.
“I’ll give you two a moment,” Kora says, and she’s gone a heartbeat later, striding off toward the stables without a backward glance. You watch her go, glad for the excuse to look away from the pain in Simon’s eyes, though as the silence stretches on you can’t help but peek at him once more.
“Princess,” he says, and then falters. You heave yourself back to your feet, mostly to give your body something to do, but he must think you’re trying to leave because he shifts as though he’s ready to chase after you no matter where you try to run.
When he speaks again, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. “Why are you talking about husbands?”
You force yourself to take a deep breath, hoping it might calm your pounding heart. “My father asked me to – ”
“Asked?” His eyebrows are raised.
You flush. “He’s commanded me to marry.”
Simon’s jaw tightens and his leather gloves creak in protest as he squeezes his hands into fists. “Just like that, huh?”
“Simon, he’s the king – ”
“But you’re my friend,” he cuts in, eyes blazing now as he holds your gaze. “You’re my friend, and I’m worried about what you want, not what’s good for the country.”
You don’t have an answer for that. There’s a pressure rising in your chest that makes words impossible anyway, and you lift your hand to cover your aching heart.
“So tell me,” he says. “Tell me what you want. Tell me it isn’t this.”
You open your mouth, and so many protests jump to your lips: of course you don’t want this, all you want is to get back to work, to get back to the only things that have ever made sense to you, and for a second everything you want to say chokes you and you can’t speak at all. That’s when Simon closes the distance between you. His gaze stays locked onto yours as he skirts around the table until he’s right in front of you, and when he reaches for your hand, his touch defrosts some cold, frightened part of you deep inside the way it always does.
“I want…” You duck your head, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze, and you glance through the base and toward the wilds beyond. “I just want to…”
Run, you think, but it would sound so cowardly to say it out loud.
Simon doesn’t need you to. He never really needs you to, he always just seems to know what you’re holding deep within your heart. So he squeezes your hand, and then – as though he’s done it a thousand times before rather than just this once – he leans in and brushes his lips over your forehead. Shock jolts through you as potent as a lightning strike, but he’s pulling away before you can think of a response.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says, and it sounds so much like a vow that your eyes shoot back up to his face. But now his expression is unreadable again. There’s determination in his eyes, that much you can make out.
“What are you going to do?”
He smiles a little at you, that crooked smile he gives you when he has no intention of letting you in on his secret. The old fondness is there like always, but there’s a grim edge to it that makes your heart clench.
“It’ll be fine,” he tells you, but you’re not at all sure you believe him.
Confusion dogs you through the rest of the day. Anxiety, too. You can’t imagine what Simon is planning, although it seems to have something to do with the rest of the Rangers. You spot him speaking with Kora and Ogden, but Ogden waves you off before you get close. A few hours later you catch a glimpse of he and Gaul locked in some sort of argument near the smithy, but they both disappear into the crowded marketplace as soon as they realize you’ve seen them.
Finally, as the sun begins slipping behind the horizon, all of the Rangers gather at the base. They’re geared up and hauling several heavy travel packs, which can only mean one thing: they’re headed out on some sort of expedition, and no one expects to be back any time soon.
“Ah, you’re here.” Simon smiles as you approach. There’s no hint of his earlier disquiet; in fact, he seems almost giddy, and there’s a light in his eyes that always promises adventure. “Grab your stuff. Ratha’s already tacked up and waiting for pack-out.”
“What do you mean?” you ask. You’re fairly certain you’re not meant to leave the castle, at least not until you’ve spoken your vows.
“This fool means to drag us across the Meridian,” Gaul snaps as he heaves a tent toward the airstrip. “He says you gave the order.”
You stare at Simon, mouth slightly agape, and Gaul rolls his eyes and mutters something which sounds suspiciously like I knew she had no idea what was going on under his breath.
“Vermeil wants to get to the Sacrosanctum. So did your mother. Even our own research is pointing to that as the most likely place for us to get some answers. Let’s ask forgiveness instead of permission for once,” he says. His eyes are warm and excited. “Let’s get out of Azuria before anyone thinks to stop us.”
Let’s run, he seems to say, and you can’t breathe for a second. All this, just to help you. Just to give you the escape you are so desperate for. No one else would have done it, or even thought of it. But Simon is standing right here, offering you the chance to claw back some of your freedom.
“We never expected this one to come up with such a crazy plan,” Ogden says as he jerks his thumb at Simon. Then he rolls up his bedroll and swings it over a shoulder. “I, for one, am all for it. We’re not going to find anything out if we’re stuck cooling our heels around here.”
“Just think of all the new kinds of monsties we’ll meet!” Thea crows, but Kora’s got that knowing look on her face again.
“It does seem to solve a lot of problems,” she says slowly, eyeing you in such a way that you understand she’s primarily thinking of your problem. Thankfully, she doesn’t elaborate on that. “We’ll be in a world of trouble when we get back, but Ogden’s right. There’s nothing more to learn around here.”
Your eyes fall on each member of the Rangers in turn. They seem eager, even happy to go, but this is a huge ask. Your father is going to be furious whenever you return, perhaps even furious enough to put the castle’s dungeons to use. You wonder if they’ve really grappled with that possibility, and guilt wells up in you before you can wrestle it down.
“There are going to be very serious consequences for this,” you say. “I don’t expect any of you to just blindly put your futures at risk, and I won’t blame anyone who chooses not to disobey the king.”
But no one balks, not even for a second, and Simon tips his head toward the waiting airstrip. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we’re ready to go see what’s happening for ourselves.” He smiles at you again, a softer smile. “Let’s go, Princess. I know you want to.”
You only hesitate for one more moment. You study each of your friends in turn before your gaze comes to rest on Simon. “Yeah…let’s go,” you agree, and ten minutes later the sun has disappeared beyond the horizon and you and your friends are winging away north, toward the unknown.
I’m so tired of having to tough it out and do my part to change toxic cultures. “Oh no, if queer and BIPOC and women fans don’t stay and support these unapologetically problematic men, who will?”
Nobody, I hope. And if the audience dwindles and the players are forced to support themselves with other work while they fight to play the sport they love…well, isn’t that exactly what Women’s and BIPOC leagues have always had to do because “nobody is interested in watching them”?
I’m not interested in saving the NHL from itself (although sadly I don’t think the league is actually too worried about losing viewership). I’ve stuck it out in male-dominated spaces before and at this point in my life I’d honestly advise anyone feeling dissatisfied and disappointed with NHL and the mens USA team to move on to more passionate and accepting fan spaces. If that damages the NHL audience numbers, that’s a problem of the league’s and players’ own making and absolutely not my fault or my responsibility, and neither is it yours.
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