The Sun in the Dragon House: Chapter 25 - Vows of Rebellion
Series Masterlist
Chapter 24, Chapter 26
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader & Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader & Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader
Endgame: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
The Red Keep rose before them, its red stone walls gleaming in the afternoon sun. As they passed through the Dragon Gate, Vera felt a curious mix of relief and apprehension wash over her. She had accomplished what she'd set out to do—ensuring the blacksmiths' children were recovering—but she knew what likely awaited her inside.
"Father," she said quietly as they approached the main entrance, "do you think Aemond and Aegon have resolved their... disagreement by now?"
Ser Criston's expression remained carefully neutral. "Prince Aemond has a temper, but he's not unreasonable. Especially when it comes to you."
They entered through the main doors, servants bowing respectfully as they passed. Vera had just begun to hope they might reach her chambers without incident when she spotted a familiar figure striding toward them from the far end of the corridor.
Aemond's tall form was unmistakable, his black clothing a stark contrast to the stone walls. His stride was purposeful, shoulders rigid with tension, his single violet eye narrowed and fixed directly on her.
Vera instinctively stepped behind her father, using his form as a shield despite knowing full well that Aemond would never harm her. His anger, however intimidating to others, had never been directed at her physically—though his displeasure was formidable enough.
"I believe I'll just..." Dyana murmured, already edging away.
"Yes, go change," Vera whispered quickly to her maid. "You too, Ser Arryk. Your duties are complete for now."
Both servant and knight exchanged knowing glances, barely concealing their amusement as they retreated with hasty bows. Dyana's lips twitched with suppressed laughter as she hurried away.
Vera tugged urgently at her father's arm. "Father, please, to the stairs. Quickly."
Ser Criston let out a low chuckle but obliged, moving toward the grand staircase with deliberate steps. "Running away, are we?" he murmured, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Not running," Vera corrected, keeping pace with him. "Making a strategic retreat."
As Aemond was approaching when Ser Criston reached the stairs, Vera gathered her skirts and took off running up the steps, her feet light despite her formal slippers. She heard Aemond call her name behind her, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls.
"Vera! Stop this instant!"
She couldn't help the smile that curved her lips as she raced along the corridor toward her chambers. "No!" she called back, a hint of amusement in her voice as she rounded the corner.
Aemond scoffed, following at an unhurried pace, his long legs allowing him to maintain sight of her without the indignity of running. Behind them both, Ser Criston smirked a little as he watched them disappear around the corner, reminiscent of their childhood days when they would chase each other through these very halls. He shook his head fondly and turned away to change his clothes, recognizing that some matters were best left between the young couple.
Fortunately for Vera, her floor was deserted as she hurried toward her chamber door. The absence of servants or courtiers was a small mercy—she didn't need an audience for what was sure to be a heated encounter.
"Vera," Aemond called again, his voice closer now. "You can't hide from me."
"Watch me try," she replied breathlessly, reaching her door at last.
She slipped inside her chambers, closing the heavy oak door behind her. Her dark eyes darted around the room, seeking a hiding place, but finding none suitable. The bed was too obvious, the wardrobe too cramped, and the space beneath her writing desk too small. She pouted to herself, placing her hands on her hips in frustration.
The door swung open without warning. Aemond stepped inside, his tall figure filling the doorway as his violet eye found her immediately. There was no surprise in his gaze—only a predatory satisfaction that sent a delicious shiver down her spine.
"You know," Vera said, tilting her head to one side, "not knocking is my thing. You can't just steal it."
Aemond's lips curved into a dangerous smirk as he closed the door behind him, turning the key in the lock with deliberate slowness. The soft click echoed in the sudden silence between them.
"I believe," he said, his voice low and rich with promise as he advanced toward her, "that you left this morning without me. After I specifically told you not to."
Vera backed away, her pulse quickening at the heat in his gaze. "The children needed me," she explained. "And you were busy with Aegon."
"That's not the point," Aemond replied, continuing his slow, deliberate advance. "The point is that you disobeyed me."
She bumped against her writing desk, trapped between the solid wood and Aemond's approaching form. "I'm not one of your soldiers to command," she reminded him, though her teasing smile took any sting from the words.
"No," he agreed, finally reaching her. His hands came to rest on the desk on either side of her, effectively caging her in. "You're far more precious than any soldier."
His face was inches from hers now, his breath warm against her lips. Vera's dark eyes met his violet one without flinching, the familiar dance of power between them as intoxicating as wine.
"Are you very angry with me?" she asked softly, her fingers reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw.
"Furious," he murmured, though the heat in his gaze spoke of a different emotion entirely. "Do you know what it was like to return from dealing with our brother, only to discover you'd gone to the city without me? Without proper protection?"
"I had Father with me," she reminded him. "And Ser Arryk."
"Not enough," Aemond growled, leaning closer until his lips brushed against her ear. "Not when you carry my child."
"We don't know that for certain yet," Vera whispered, though her hand moved instinctively to her stomach.
Aemond's larger hand covered hers, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the intensity in his eye. "I know," he said simply, with such conviction that Vera almost believed him.
His gaze softened for a moment as he looked down at their joined hands over her abdomen, then lifted back to her face. Vera recognized the heated look that replaced the tenderness—a familiar darkening of his violet eye that made her breath catch.
"However," Aemond said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, "you must be punished in some way for your disobedience. I can't have you thinking you can simply ignore my wishes whenever it suits you."
Vera's lips parted slightly, her heart racing beneath her ribs. "How will you be doing that?" she asked softly, unable to keep a slight tremor from her voice.
Aemond's smirk grew more pronounced as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "By making you wait," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. "All day, if necessary."
Before she could question his meaning, his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss that left no doubt about his intentions. His hands moved to her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the writing desk. Inkwells and parchment scattered as he stepped between her thighs, deepening the kiss with a hunger that matched her own.
Vera's arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in his silver-gold hair as she surrendered to his demanding mouth. When his lips finally released hers, she was breathless, her dark eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
"Wait for what?" she managed to ask, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
Aemond's hands skimmed up her sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through the fabric of her dress. "For release," he murmured against her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "I'll bring you to the edge again and again, but you won't find completion until I decide you've been sufficiently... reminded of your place."
Heat pooled low in Vera's belly at his words. She should have been indignant at his presumption, at the arrogance of his claim—but instead, she found herself melting against him, her body responding to the dark promise in his voice.
"That seems cruel," she whispered, though the slight catch in her breath betrayed her excitement.
"Not cruel," Aemond corrected, his fingers working at the laces of her dress with practiced ease. "Educational."
He slipped the fabric from her shoulders, exposing her shift beneath. His violet eye darkened further as he took in the sight of her, the thin material doing little to conceal the peaks of her breasts.
"And what lesson am I to learn?"
"That your safety is not negotiable," Aemond replied, his tone suddenly serious despite the heat in his gaze. "That when I ask you to wait for me, it's not out of a desire to control you, but to protect you."
Vera's expression softened at the genuine concern beneath his commanding exterior. She reached up to touch his face, her fingers gentle against his scarred cheek.
"I understand," she whispered, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to his lips. "But you must understand that I can't simply ignore those who need help when it's in my power to give it."
Aemond sighed, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. "Your compassion is one of the things I love most about you," he admitted quietly. "But it terrifies me when it puts you at risk."
Vera cradled his face between her palms, her dark eyes meeting his violet one with unwavering sincerity.
"I was careful," she assured him. "Father and Ser Arryk never left my side, and we didn't linger longer than necessary."
"It's not enough," Aemond insisted, his hands tightening on her waist. "Not with what happened at breakfast. Grandfather—"
"Shhh," Vera interrupted, pressing her finger to his lips. "Not now. Tell me what happened with Aegon later. For now..." She smiled, a hint of mischief lighting her eyes. "I believe you mentioned something about a punishment?"
The tension in Aemond's shoulders eased slightly at her deliberate change of subject. His lips curved into that dangerous smile she loved so well, his eye darkening once more with desire.
"Indeed I did," he murmured, his hands sliding up her thighs beneath her skirts. "And I intend to be very... thorough."
Vera's breath hitched. "How thorough?" she whispered, her own hands moving to the fastenings of his doublet.
"Enough that you'll think twice before defying me again," Aemond promised, his voice a low growl as he captured her mouth once more.
Their kisses grew more urgent, hands exploring familiar territory with renewed hunger. Aemond lifted her from the desk, carrying her to the bed without breaking their kiss. He laid her down with surprising gentleness, his tall form following her onto the mattress.
"Remember," he whispered against her lips as his hands resumed their exploration, "not until I say so."
Vera's only response was a soft moan as his fingers found their target, her body arching into his touch with instinctive need.
*******
Later, as afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, Vera lay boneless and sated in Aemond's arms, her head pillowed on his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, his breathing slow and even beneath her cheek.
"You didn't actually make me wait very long," she observed, a hint of teasing in her voice as she tilted her face to look at him.
Aemond's lips curved into a smirk. "I'm not a monster," he replied dryly. "Besides, I found I couldn't deny myself either."
Vera laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his chest. "So much for your fearsome punishment."
"There's always next time," he promised, his hand sliding possessively over the curve of her hip. "When you inevitably disobey me again."
A comfortable silence settled between them, the warmth of their bodies intertwined beneath the soft sheets. Vera closed her eyes in content, cuddling against him, her head finding that perfect spot in the crook of his shoulder.
"How did your talk with Aegon go?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest.
Aemond tensed beneath her touch. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Vera felt his heartbeat quicken under her palm as he drew a deep breath.
"Aegon demands I marry Lady Floris after Criston and I return from the expedition," he finally said, his voice devoid of emotion. "He was quite... insistent on the matter."
Vera's eyes flew open, her body stiffening against his.
"And he wants to make you his second wife," Aemond added coldly, staring at the ceiling, his jaw clenched tight.
Vera sat up abruptly, the sheet slipping down to pool around her waist. She stared at him, dark eyes wide with disbelief, a small frown creasing her brow.
"What? He can't do that. Aegon can't make me marry him," she said, her voice rising slightly despite her effort to remain calm.
Aemond merely hummed, his violet eye watching her carefully, gauging her reaction.
Vera looked away, her expression hardening with anger toward her brother-figure. How could Aegon even suggest such a thing? After everything? After knowing how much Aemond meant to her. She let out a breath, trying to steady her racing heart before turning back to Aemond.
Her fingers found his scar, tracing its familiar path. "If I shall marry a Targaryen brother," she said softly, her dark eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve, "it shall be you, Aemond. No one else."
Aemond's hand caught hers, pressing her palm more firmly against his scarred cheek. His violet eye blazed with fierce possession as he pulled her down to him, claiming her mouth in a kiss that left no doubt about his feelings on the matter.
Vera pulled back just a little from his lips, her dark eyes meeting his with sudden determination. "Let's marry tonight," she whispered, her voice barely audible even in the quiet chamber. "In the Godswood, beneath the heart tree."
Aemond stared at her, his violet eye widening with surprise. "Tonight?" he repeated, his voice catching on the word. "But how would we—"
"We don't need a grand ceremony," Vera continued, her words tumbling out in a rush of certainty. "Just us, the Septon, the old gods as witnesses. Mother could be there, and father." Her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, her touch feather-light against his skin. "We could say our vows before you and father leave for the Crownlands."
Aemond sat up, bringing her with him, his expression serious as he searched her face. "You're certain about this? Once done, there's no taking it back."
"I've never been more certain of anything," she replied, taking his hands in hers. "Aegon plans to marry me himself if you wed Lady Floris. If we wait any longer, they'll find some way to separate us completely."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Think of it, Aemond. By the time you return, I could know for certain if I carry your child. We would present them with a marriage already consummated, possibly with an heir on the way."
A slow, predatory smile spread across Aemond's face, his violet eye gleaming with approval. "Tonight," he agreed, the word carrying the weight of a vow. "Septon Eustace has always been loyal to Mother. He would perform the ceremony without question."
Vera nodded eagerly, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. "Uncle Gwayne arrives in the morrow, he won't be able to be at the wedding. And Daeron. I wish he could stand with you as brother."
Aemond smirked, confidence radiating from him as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Leave it to me."
*******
Otto and Alicent stared at them in stunned silence, the revelation hanging in the air between them. For a moment, the chamber fell silent, the weight of their declaration hanging in the air.
"Tonight?" Alicent finally managed, her green eyes wide. "You wish to marry tonight, before Aemond leaves for the Crownlands?"
Helaena clapped her hands together suddenly, her dreamy expression transforming into one of genuine delight. "Oh, yes! A wedding!" she exclaimed, her violet eyes brightening. "I'll come, of course. The twins will be so excited—they love ceremonies. Their Aunt Vera will be officially their aunt."
Ser Criston stood near the window, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts as he considered his daughter's request. After a long moment, he gave a single, firm nod of approval.
The Queen's surprise melted into determination as she rose from her seat, her mind already working through the practical details. "Well then, we must prepare quickly," she said, a smile spreading across her face. Her gaze fell on Vera's blue gown. "That won't do for a wedding, even a hasty one." She turned to Dyana who stood attentively nearby. "Dyana, fetch the white dress from my wardrobe—the one with the silver embroidery. I believe it will fit Vera beautifully."
"Yes, Your Grace," Dyana replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she hurried to the adjoining chamber where the Queen's extensive wardrobe was kept.
Helaena drifted closer to Vera, reaching out to touch her dark hair with gentle fingers. "What about Daeron?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly. "And Uncle Gwayne? Shouldn't they be here too?"
"I've already sent our brother a raven," Aemond replied smoothly. "Knowing him, he'll come and drag our uncle with him."
Helaena seemed satisfied with this explanation, her attention already shifting to other details. "Jaehaera will need flowers for her hair," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
Otto cleared his throat, his shrewd eyes calculating as he absorbed this unexpected development. He nodded lightly, his expression thoughtful. "Aegon will find out quickly," he pointed out, his voice measured and careful. "He must be distracted. I will take care of it."
Aemond nodded in thanks, watching his grandsire leave the chambers to let them prepare.
Alicent surveyed the small group with the efficiency of a battlefield commander. "It's almost evening, we have much to do and little time," she announced. Her gaze settled on Aemond and Ser Criston. "You two must leave us now. The bride needs to prepare, and it is bad luck for the groom to see her before the ceremony. Tell Ser Arryk to get Septon Eustace, discreetly."
A hint of amusement crossed Ser Criston's normally stoic features as he moved toward the door and nodded. "Come, my Prince," he said, gesturing for the younger man to follow. "We have our own preparations to make."
Aemond hesitated, his violet eye finding Vera's across the chamber. The look they exchanged was brief but laden with meaning—determination, triumph, and the fierce love that had driven them to this moment.
With visible reluctance, he allowed Ser Criston to guide him from the chamber, the heavy oak door closing behind them with a decisive thud.
As soon as they were gone, the Queen Dowager moved to Vera's side, taking her hands in a warm, maternal grip.
"Are you absolutely certain of this, my dear?" Alicent asked, searching Vera's face with maternal concern. "Once done, there can be no undoing it."
Vera squeezed Alicent's hands, her dark eyes steady with conviction. "I am, Mother."
The Queen Dowager straightened, her expression shifting from tender to determined as she smoothed her skirts with practiced hands. "We must get ready then. There's much to do before nightfall if we're to have you properly wed."
Dyana returned, carrying a gown of stunning white silk embroidered with delicate silver threads that caught the light with every movement. "I've found it, Your Grace," she announced, holding the dress carefully.
"Perfect," Alicent declared, moving to examine the garment. "It will need some adjustments, but nothing we can't manage quickly."
Helaena approached, running her fingers over the fine fabric with appreciation. "You'll need something for your hair," she mused, tilting her head as she studied Vera. "Something beautiful..."
"I have just the thing," the Queen Dowager said, crossing to an ornate wooden chest near her bed. She opened it, retrieving a small velvet pouch. "This was a gift from Viserys, years ago."
She emptied the pouch into her palm, revealing a delicate silver hairpin topped with a cluster of tiny diamonds arranged to resemble a winter rose. "It's simple, but elegant—perfect for a ceremony in the Godswood."
Vera's eyes widened at the beautiful piece. "I couldn't possibly—"
"Nonsense," Alicent interrupted gently. "Consider it my gift to you, my dear. As my good daughter, it seems only fitting that you should have it."
Tears threatened to spill from Vera's eyes, but she blinked them away, unwilling to give in to emotion when there was still so much to be done. "Thank you," she whispered, embracing the Queen Dowager with genuine affection.
"Now," Alicent said briskly, pulling back to survey the room. "We have much to do and little time. Dyana, help Vera out of that gown so we can begin the alterations."
As Dyana moved to assist her, Vera caught sight of her reflection in the Queen Dowager's mirror. Her dark eyes were bright with determination, her olive skin flushed with excitement. By morning, she would be Princess Vera Targaryen, wife to Aemond, forever bound to the man she loved.
*******
The Godswood was eerily beautiful in the darkness, illuminated only by a handful of carefully placed lanterns. Their golden light danced across the ancient heart tree's pale bark, making the carved face seem almost alive in the shifting shadows. A light mist had settled among the trees, lending the sacred grove an otherworldly quality.
Aemond stood before the heart tree, his tall frame rigid with anticipation. He had changed into formal attire—black and red, the Targaryen colors—though he had forgone the traditional cloak for the hasty ceremony.
Ser Criston stood beside him, resplendent in his Kingsguard white, though he had removed his cloak for the occasion. Tonight, he was not the Lord Commander, but a father giving away his only daughter.
Septon Eustace shifted nervously from foot to foot, his chain of office glinting in the dim light. The old man's eyes darted occasionally toward the looming presence beyond the trees—Vhagar, whose massive form was barely visible in the darkness, her enormous head turned toward the gathering, watching with ancient, knowing eyes.
Queen Dowager Alicent waited at the edge of the clearing, Dyana beside her—as requested by Vera and the Queen Dowager—with the twins. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera stood solemnly in their nightclothes, hastily covered with warm cloaks against the night chill. Their silver-gold curls gleamed in the lantern light as they watched the proceedings with wide, and excitement eyes.
A rustling sound came from the path behind them, drawing all eyes away from the heart tree. Helaena emerged from the mist, leading Vera by the arm. The bride's appearance drew soft gasps from those gathered.
Vera was radiant in the Queen's white gown, the silver embroidery catching the lantern light with each step she took. The fabric had been skillfully altered to fit her perfectly, accentuating her slender waist and falling gracefully around her feet. Her dark hair had been styled elegantly, with the silver winter rose hairpin nestled among the intricate braids.
Helaena beamed beside her, looking more present and focused than she had in months as she guided Vera toward Aemond. Her own silver-gold hair gleamed in the dim light, her violet eyes bright with genuine happiness for her brother and sister-figure.
Behind them walked Ser Arryk and Ser Cedric, their white cloaks standing out starkly against the darkness of the Godswood. Though still on duty, they had been personally invited by Vera and Ser Criston to witness the ceremony, their loyalty to the bride and her father earning them a place in this secret gathering.
Aemond's breath caught in his throat as he watched Vera approach, her dark eyes never leaving his as she moved toward him with deliberate steps. The sight of her in white, coming to him beneath the heart tree, stirred something primal and possessive within his chest.
When they reached the gathering, Helaena guided Vera to Ser Criston. The Lord Commander's normally stoic face was uncharacteristically emotional as he took his daughter's hand, placing it on his arm with paternal pride. Helaena stepped away, moving to stand beside her mother and Dyana, who dabbed discreetly at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Ser Criston led Vera toward Aemond with measured steps, his dark eyes suspiciously bright in the lantern light. When they reached the heart tree, he placed Vera's hand in Aemond's, his fingers lingering for just a moment in silent blessing before he stepped back.
A sudden roar shattered the silence of the Godswood, causing everyone to look skyward. Through the canopy of trees, they glimpsed a flash of blue scales as Tessarion circled overhead. The dragon descended with surprising grace for her size, landing with a heavy thud that shook the ground near where Vhagar rested.
"We made it!" a young voice shouted triumphantly.
Daeron emerged from the darkness, his silver-gold hair windblown from flight, his violet eyes bright with excitement. Behind him strode Gwayne Hightower, tall and imposing in armor bearing the Hightower sigil. They hurried toward the gathering, Daeron's face split in a wide grin.
"You better not have started without us," the young prince declared, slightly out of breath as he reached the group. "I couldn't miss my favorite brother's wedding!"
Alicent's lips curved into an amused smile at her youngest son's dramatic entrance. She embraced him briefly before turning to her brother, her green eyes warm with gratitude.
As they took their places among the small gathering, Septon Eustace cleared his throat, drawing attention back to the couple standing before the heart tree. Aemond and Vera faced each other, their hands joined, their eyes locked in a gaze so intense it seemed to exclude everyone else.
"We gather here in the sight of the Seven and before the old gods," the Septon began, his voice strengthening as he spoke the familiar words. "To witness the union of two souls..."
Daeron leaned close to his uncle, his eyes never leaving his brother and Vera. "Finally," he whispered, his young face alight with genuine happiness.
Gwayne let out a soft chuckle, nodding in agreement. "Indeed," he murmured.
The ceremony continued, simple yet profound in its solemnity. When the moment came for the exchange of cloaks, Aemond reached for the black fabric draped over his arm. With practiced movements, he unfurled it, revealing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen emblazoned in red thread. He stepped behind Vera, draping the cloak over her shoulders with surprising gentleness.
"With this cloak, I bring you under my protection," he declared, his deep voice carrying clearly in the hushed Godswood. "And I pledge to you my strength, my loyalty, and my heart until the end of my days."
The traditional words were spoken with such fierce conviction that Vera's eyes glistened with unshed tears. When Aemond moved to stand before her once more, she reached up to touch his face, her fingers tracing the edge of his scar with familiar tenderness.
"I accept your protection and your heart," she replied, her voice steady despite the emotion shining in her dark eyes. "And I pledge to you my devotion, my counsel, and my love until the last breath leaves my body."
Septon Eustace nodded, satisfaction evident in his weathered face. "Then in the sight of gods and men, I declare Prince Aemond of House Targaryen and Lady Vera Cole to be husband and wife." He paused, a small smile touching his lips. "One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."
Aemond didn't wait for further prompting. Without hesitation, he claimed her mouth in a kiss that left no doubt about the depth of his feelings. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her against him as though he feared she might vanish if he didn't hold her tightly enough.
When they finally parted, breathless and flushed, a cheer went up from the small assembly. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys darted forward, wrapping their arms around Vera's legs in an enthusiastic embrace.
"Now you're really our aunt!" Jaehaera declared triumphantly, her violet eyes shining with delight.
"Forever and ever," Jaehaerys added solemnly, his small face serious despite the joy evident in his expression.
Vera knelt, gathering both children into her arms, her new cloak pooling around them like a protective wing. "Yes," she agreed, pressing a kiss to each small forehead. "Forever and ever."
Alicent approached, her green eyes suspiciously bright as she embraced first Vera, then her son. "May the gods bless your union," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "And may they grant you the joy that comes from a marriage built on true love."
Ser Criston stood a few paces away, his dark eyes watching the scene with complex emotions playing across his normally stoic features. When Vera approached him, reaching out with both hands, he took them in his own, squeezing gently.
"Father," she said softly, her dark eyes searching his face. "Are you happy for me?"
A rare smile transformed the Lord Commander's stern countenance. "More than I can express," he replied, his voice rough with feeling. "He will protect you when I cannot. That is all I have ever wanted for you—safety and happiness."
Helaena approached next, her usual dreamy expression returning as she placed a crown of hastily woven flowers on Vera's dark hair. "Now, you are officially my sister."
Ser Arryk and Ser Cedric stepped forward, bowing deeply to the newly married couple. "Prince Aemond, Princess Vera," Ser Arryk said formally, using Vera's new title for the first time. "May your union bring you strength and joy."
"Thank you both for standing witness," Vera replied warmly. "Your presence honors us."
Gwayne moved over to them, his face alight with a mixture of admiration and amusement. He embraced Vera warmly, his arms enveloping her in a hug before he stepped back to regard them both.
"A bold move, even for you two," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Though I must say, I approve." He glanced between them with a knowing smile. "Was this your idea, Vera? It has your cleverness written all over it."
Aemond's lips curved into a smirk, his violet eye never leaving his new wife's face. "Her suggestion," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of pride. "And a wise one."
As the ceremony concluded, their small party began to disperse. The Queen Dowager gathered Daeron and Gwayne, speaking to them in hushed tones as they moved toward the path leading back to the Keep. Helaena followed, holding Jaehaera's small hand while Dyana carried a sleepy Jaehaerys, his silver-gold head resting against her shoulder.
Aemond and Vera walked together, their fingers intertwined, shoulders touching as they followed the winding path through the Godswood. Behind them, Ser Criston fell into step with Ser Cedric and Ser Arryk, their quiet conversation carrying occasionally on the night breeze.
When they reached a secluded side entrance to the Keep, where shadows provided privacy from prying eyes, Alicent motioned Aemond to her side. The others continued inside, leaving mother and son momentarily alone.
"Take these," she whispered, pressing something into his palm. Aemond opened his hand to reveal two rings nestled against his skin—simple bands of Valyrian steel inlaid with tiny rubies that glowed like embers in the dim light. "One for you, one for your wife."
Aemond studied the rings with genuine surprise. "Mother—"
"After you told me your intention to marry Vera, I asked for them to be made," she explained softly. Her green eyes softened as she glanced toward Vera, who waited just inside the doorway. "I knew you would find a way to be together. Tomorrow, I'll arrange for your chambers to be prepared—together, as befits a married couple."
A rare, genuine smile crossed Aemond's face as his fingers closed around the precious tokens. "Thank you," he said simply, the words carrying more weight than any elaborate declaration. "I'll give Vera hers tonight, in her chambers."
Alicent nodded. "Go to your wife," she said, gesturing toward where Vera waited.
Aemond rejoined Vera, his hand finding hers once more as they entered the Keep together. The corridors were mercifully empty, most of the household having retired hours ago. Their footsteps echoed against the stone floors as they made their way toward Vera's chambers, neither speaking but both acutely aware of what awaited them.
When they reached her door, Vera paused, her dark eyes meeting Aemond's with quiet intensity. "Well, husband," she said softly, the word new and sweet on her tongue. "Are you coming in?"
Aemond's response was to push the door open, guiding her inside with a possessive hand at the small of her back. The chamber was dark save for the dying embers in the hearth, casting long shadows across the familiar space.
As the door closed behind them, sealing them away from the rest of the world, Aemond reached into his pocket and withdrew the rings his mother had given him. He held them in his open palm, allowing Vera to see them clearly in the faint glow from the fire.
"From Mother," he explained, his voice unusually soft in the quiet chamber. "She had them made for us."
Vera's breath caught as she gazed at the beautiful bands. "Valyrian steel," she whispered, reaching out to touch one reverently. "Aemond, they're magnificent."
He took her left hand in his, sliding the smaller of the two rings onto her finger with deliberate slowness. The metal seemed to warm instantly against her skin, as if recognizing its new owner.
"With this ring," he murmured, his violet eye never leaving her face, "I seal our vows before gods and men."
Vera took the remaining ring from his palm, holding it between her fingers for a moment before taking his left hand in hers. With the same deliberate care, she slid the band onto his finger, watching as it settled into place—a visible symbol of their union.
"With this ring," she echoed softly, "I claim you as mine, before gods and men."
Aemond's hand closed around hers, the matching rings pressing together as their fingers intertwined. For a moment, they simply stood there, savoring the weight of what they had accomplished.
"Tomorrow shall be interesting," Vera said softly, her eyes gleaming in the faint firelight as she gazed down at their joined hands, the matching rings catching the glow from the hearth.
Aemond hummed in agreement, his hand moving from hers to rest gently on her stomach. "Tomorrow at breakfast, we shall tell them about the possibility that you carry my child," he murmured, his voice a low rumble in the quiet chamber.
Vera's lips curved into a mischievous smile as she covered his hand with her own. "We still have all night to make certain of it," she pointed out, her dark eyes dancing with promise.
A predatory grin spread across Aemond's face as he drew her closer, his tall frame towering over her slender one. "Indeed, we do," he agreed, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "My wife."
The words sent a shiver of delight through Vera's body. She reached up, her fingers tracing the edge of his scar with familiar tenderness before moving to untie his eye patch. He stood perfectly still, allowing her this intimate gesture that he permitted no one else.
As the patch fell away, revealing the sapphire, Vera leaned forward to press her lips gently against the scarred skin. Aemond's breath caught, his hands tightening on her waist at the tender gesture.
"I love all of you," she whispered against his skin. "Every part."
Aemond's control shattered at her words. With a low growl, he swept her into his arms, carrying her to the bed in three long strides. The Targaryen cloak billowed around her as he laid her down, the red three-headed dragon gleaming in the dim light.
"Mine," he whispered fiercely as he loomed over her, his silver-gold hair falling forward to frame his face. "Finally, truly mine."
Vera reached up, pulling him down to her with surprising strength. "And you are mine," she replied, her voice equally fierce. "My husband. My prince. My dragon."
Their lips met in a kiss that sealed their vows more thoroughly than any ceremony could have done, their bodies joining as the night deepened around them.
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
The stables were a marvel of rustic architecture, with high ceilings that allowed the massive birds to stand comfortably.
Rows of spacious stalls lined both sides of the central walkway, each housing a magnificent chocobo. The massive birds were even more impressive up close—standing nearly nine feet tall with vibrant yellow feathers that seemed to glow in the filtered sunlight streaming through the high windows.
"These are our finest birds," Wiz explained with evident pride, gesturing to the magnificent creatures. "Each one has their own personality, just like people." He paused at a stall near the center of the stable, his expression softening with affection. "That there is Sunshine."
He pointed to a particularly striking female chocobo with unusually bright plumage. Rachel moved closer.
"Beautiful bird, but I'll warn ya—she's got quite the attitude," Wiz added with a chuckle. "Doesn't take to strangers much."
As if hearing her name, Sunshine lifted her head from where she'd been pecking at the straw in her stall. Her intelligent eyes fixed on Rachel with an intensity that seemed almost assessing.
To Wiz's astonishment, the normally standoffish bird approached the front of her stall, extending her long neck toward Rachel with evident interest. A soft "kweh" escaped her curved beak—not the usual wary sound she made around visitors, but something almost welcoming.
Rachel reached out slowly, her fingers hovering just inches from Sunshine's beak. "Hello there," she whispered, her voice soft and soothing.
Sunshine responded by pressing her head against Rachel's palm, her feathers warm and surprisingly soft beneath Rachel's touch. The chocobo made a contented sound, her eyes half-closing as Rachel gently stroked the crest of feathers on her head.
"Well, I'll be," Wiz murmured, his eyes wide with surprise. "Never seen her take to anyone like that before. She usually pecks first and asks questions later."
Prompto watched with undisguised delight, his camera already in hand as he captured the moment. "This is perfect!" he whispered, not wanting to disturb the magical interaction.
From the stall across the way, another chocobo let out an inquisitive "kweh," drawing Rachel's attention. This one was slightly smaller, with deeper yellow plumage and distinctive black markings around its eyes.
"That's Thunder," Wiz explained, moving to the stall door. "He's a bit more friendly than Sunshine, though not by much."
But even as Wiz spoke, Thunder was extending his neck toward Rachel, his manner similar to Sunshine's—curious, attentive, almost reverent. Soon, other chocobos throughout the stable were stirring, their heads turning toward Rachel with unmistakable interest.
Wiz looked at the boys in surprise, his weathered face showing a mixture of astonishment and delight. He'd seen chocobos take to people before, but never with such immediate and universal enthusiasm. The birds that usually regarded newcomers with suspicion or indifference were now practically vying for Rachel's attention.
"She got the... magic touch," Gladio observed with an amused grin, patting a nearby chocobo that had pressed against the stall door to be closer to Rachel. The massive bird responded with a contented "kweh," its eyes half-closed in pleasure.
Wiz chuckled and nodded in agreement, watching as Rachel moved from stall to stall, each chocobo responding to her presence with eager interest. "Seems so," he agreed, running a hand through his graying hair. "In all my years, I've never seen anything quite like it."
Noctis moved closer to Rachel, his expression softening as he watched her interaction with the magnificent birds. The tension from their earlier disagreement about the behemoth had melted away, replaced by quiet pride in her abilities.
"You folks want to ride on them now?" Wiz asked, gesturing to the chocobos that had gathered near Rachel.
Rachel hesitated, uncertainty crossing her features. "Well, I..."
Noctis leaned in close to her, his voice soft and reassuring. "It's easy. I'll be by your side."
The promise in his words seemed to calm her nerves. Rachel nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she looked at the chocobos with newfound interest.
Prompto bounced on his heels, excitement radiating from him like heat from a fire. "We can take them out on the path, right?" he asked Wiz, his camera already in hand, ready to capture every moment of Rachel's first chocobo ride.
"Absolutely," Wiz confirmed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. He looked at Rachel with newfound respect. "I think, young lady, that you can take Sunshine. You'll be the first to ride her without me having to worry she'll throw you off."
Sunshine, hearing her name, let out a proud "kweh" and stretched her neck toward Rachel, clearly pleased with the arrangement.
Wiz moved to a large cabinet at the end of the stable and began pulling out riding gear—saddles, bridles, and reins in various sizes. "These should fit you all well enough," he said, distributing the equipment among them. "Chocobos are intelligent creatures. They'll let you know if something's not right. Have you folks ride Chocobos before?"
"We have," Noctis said, glancing at the others, "but for Rachel, this is her first time."
Wiz nodded sagely as he handed Rachel a set of reins. "Then I hope, since Sunshine's taken a shine to you, she'll see to it your first time is unforgettable. And with these four seasoned riders beside you, there's no way you'll go wrong." With a wink to Rachel and a knowing look at the boys, he clapped his hands together. "You're in good company!"
Prompto pumped his fist in the air. "Heck yeah! Nothing beats your first chocobo ride!" He hurried to open the paddock gate, and with the ease of an old stagehand, guided Sunshine out into the open.
The bird strutted forward, her eyes fixed on Rachel—already keen to begin.
The group led their chocobos outside into the bright morning light, the magnificent birds strutting proudly as they emerged from the stables. Rachel walked alongside Sunshine, her hand resting lightly on the chocobo's warm neck, still marveling at the creature's beauty and size up close.
"Alright, let's get you up there," Gladio said, moving to Rachel's side. He interlaced his fingers, creating a step for her with his massive hands.
Rachel hesitated only a moment before placing her foot in his cupped hands. With surprising gentleness, Gladio lifted her up, and she swung her leg over Sunshine's back, settling into the saddle. The chocobo shifted beneath her, adjusting to her weight with a soft "kweh" that sounded almost reassuring.
"Comfortable?" Gladio asked, his expression softening as he watched Rachel find her balance.
"Yes," she replied, a smile spreading across her face as she took the reins in her hands. "Thank you."
Gladio nodded and moved to his own chocobo, mounting with practiced ease. Noctis swung up onto his bird with fluid grace, positioning himself immediately beside Rachel. His eyes never left her, a mixture of protective concern and pride evident in his gaze.
"Ready?" Noctis asked, reaching over to adjust her reins slightly.
Rachel nodded, excitement building in her chest. "Ready."
Ignis mounted his chocobo with precise, economical movements, adjusting his glasses before taking the reins. Prompto, meanwhile, was practically vibrating with excitement as he climbed onto his bird.
"Let's go, let's go!" he called out, his chocobo dancing in place as it picked up on his energy.
They set off at a gentle pace, moving from the Chocobo Post toward the open path that wound through the forest. Rachel felt a thrill of exhilaration as Sunshine moved beneath her, the chocobo's gait surprisingly smooth despite her size.
"This is amazing," Rachel said, her voice filled with wonder as the forest opened up around them. The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the path.
Noctis kept pace beside her, his expression softening as he watched her delight. "You're a natural," he said, genuine admiration in his voice.
Prompto glanced between Rachel and Gladio, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Hey, big guy," he called out, "I bet I can beat you to that clearing up ahead!"
Gladio raised an eyebrow, a competitive gleam lighting his eyes. "You're on, kid," he replied, already urging his chocobo forward.
With a whoop of excitement, Prompto kicked his heels into his chocobo's sides. The bird responded immediately, breaking into a sprint that sent them flying down the path. Gladio's chocobo was close behind, its powerful legs propelling it forward with impressive speed.
The forest blurred around them as the chocobos surged forward, powerful legs pounding against the packed earth of the path. Prompto whooped with laughter ahead, leaning low over his bird's neck as it sprinted faster, the wind whipping through his hair.
"Eat my dust!" he called back over his shoulder, his voice carried by the rush of air.
"In your dreams!" Gladio shot back, urging his chocobo onward with a confident nudge of his heels. The larger bird responded instantly, closing the distance between them with impressive speed.
Beneath Rachel, Sunshine let out a sharp, eager "kweh," her pace quickening as if she refused to be left behind. The sudden burst of speed caught Rachel off guard for half a second—her breath hitching—but her hands tightened instinctively on the reins, her body adjusting with surprising ease.
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, bright and unrestrained as the wind rushed past her face.
"This—this is fast!" she called, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief in her voice.
Noctis kept pace easily at her side, his own chocobo matching Sunshine stride for stride. He glanced over at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"You're doing fine," he said, almost casually, though his eyes never left her, tracking every movement. "Just let her run."
Rachel nodded, her earlier hesitation melting away as she leaned slightly forward, trusting the rhythm of Sunshine's movement. The chocobo responded immediately, her strides lengthening as she surged ahead with a proud cry.
Prompto burst into it first, throwing his arms up in victory as his chocobo skidded to a stop in a clearing. "Ha! I win!"
Gladio rode in a second later, his chocobo slowing beside him as he shot Prompto an unimpressed look. "You call that a win? I was letting you have a head start."
"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that," Prompto shot back with a grin. He pointed at a narrow stream cutting through the rocks ahead as the rest reached them.
"Water break, people!" he shouted, then immediately slipped on the riverbank and landed in the mud, much to the delight of his chocobo, who proceeded to peck at his hair with gleeful abandon.
Rachel slid off Sunshine and walked along the stream, pausing every few steps to let the cold-water trickle over her boots.
Rachel found herself pausing mid-step as something caught her attention across the stream. On the opposite bank, a patch of forest stretched out before her, but unlike the lush greenery surrounding them, this section appeared withered and gray. The grass lay brittle and brown, trees stood bare despite the season, and what should have been vibrant wildflowers were nothing but dried, colorless husks. The stark contrast to the living forest around it struck her as deeply wrong.
Without a word to the others, she crossed the shallow stream, stepping carefully on the slippery stones. Sunshine followed her instinctively, the chocobo's curious "kweh" drawing brief glances from the men.
"Rachel?" Prompto called, but she barely heard him, drawn to the lifeless patch as if it were calling to her. He scrambled to his feet, wiping mud from his clothes as he moved toward the stream's edge.
Blaze appeared overhead, circling once before landing silently on the branch of a dead oak. The golden eagle watched as Rachel approached the center of the desolation.
Rachel knelt at the edge of the dead grass, her fingers hovering just above the brittle blades. She could feel it now—the wrongness, the unnatural absence of life energy that should have been flowing through this place. Something had drained it, leaving nothing but husks behind.
Her fingers connected with the brittle earth, and the world transformed.
Life surged from her touch, spreading outward in rippling waves of vibrant green. The men watched in stunned silence as the dead grass beneath her hand transformed, color flooding back into the landscape as if a dam had burst. The revival spread in concentric circles, each blade straightening and filling with vitality that had been absent moments before.
Flowers that had been nothing but withered stems suddenly erupted into bloom, their petals unfurling to reveal brilliant purples, sunny yellows, and pure whites.
Trees that had stood barren and skeletal now sprouted fresh leaves, branches reaching skyward with renewed purpose.
The transformation was complete in less than a minute, the dead patch now indistinguishable from the lush forest surrounding it.
Rachel lifted her hand from the now-green grass, and immediately small creatures began to emerge from hiding places—rabbits, squirrels, and birds that had fled the desolation now returned to their restored home.
"That's so cool," Prompto whispered, his camera capturing the miracle with rapid clicks. His smile faltered slightly as he noticed movement in the undergrowth. "Hey, Noct, snake approaching."
A slender garter snake emerged from the newly revitalized grass, its scales gleaming in the sunlight as it slithered toward Rachel with deliberate purpose.
"It's okay," Rachel assured them, her voice gentle and calm. "It won't harm us, and it's not poisonous."
The snake continued its approach, seemingly drawn to Rachel's presence. She extended her arm, and the creature slithered up onto her forearm with surprising grace, its tongue flickering as it explored this strange human who had restored its home.
The men moved closer, curiosity overcoming any lingering apprehension. Prompto continued taking pictures, capturing the interaction between the blonde woman and the wild creature.
The snake hissed softly, not in warning but almost in conversation, its head bobbing as if responding to Rachel's unspoken communication.
Rachel smiled, gently placing the snake back on the ground where it lingered for a moment before disappearing into the undergrowth. "She thanked me for fixing their home," she explained softly, watching the spot where the snake had vanished.
"Every time I think I've seen everything you can do..." Prompto trailed off, lowering his camera to study Rachel with undisguised awe.
Rachel stood, brushing her hands against her jeans as she surveyed the transformed clearing. "It wasn't natural," she said, her voice quiet but certain. "This desolation. Something caused it."
Noctis moved to her side, his hand finding hers. "Looks like daemons. Come on, let's go back, it will rain soon."
They returned to their chocobos, mounting with practiced ease. Rachel swung up onto Sunshine's back, the magnificent bird responding to her weight with a soft "kweh" of acknowledgment. Noctis positioned himself beside her, his eyes never leaving her face, watching for any signs of the exhaustion that had plagued her before.
"You good?" he asked quietly, concern evident in his voice.
Rachel smiled, touched by his care. "I'm fine. That was different from healing—it wasn't draining, just... channeling."
Rachel turned slightly in the saddle, her gaze drifting back toward the patch of forest she had restored.
It looked whole again. Alive.
But something about it lingered—something she couldn't quite name.
As if whatever had taken the life from it... hadn't gone far.
I was asked about my one-shot Blood of My Blood (Good sister Rhaenyra AU) and to continue... would you like me to make a full book of Rhaenyra being a good sister?
The Sun in the Dragon House: Chapter 24 - A Spark in the Dark
Series Masterlist
Chapter 23, Chapter 25
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader & Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader & Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader
Endgame: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warning: Smut!
Vera woke to the sensation of fingertips tracing lazy patterns on her bare skin. Dawn's first light filtered through the window coverings, casting the chamber in a soft golden glow. She lay with her head pillowed on Aemond's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. The sheets had slipped low around her waist, exposing her back to his gentle caress.
She stirred slightly, her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks as consciousness returned fully. Aemond's fingers continued their unhurried exploration, trailing along her spine with feather-light touches that sent pleasant shivers through her body.
"You're awake," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep as she tilted her face up to meet his gaze.
Aemond's violet eye studied her with quiet intensity, the sapphire in his left socket gleaming in the dim light. "I've been awake for some time," he admitted, his fingers never ceasing their gentle movements on her skin. "I was watching you sleep."
Vera smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest where her head had rested. She sat up, stretching her arms above her head as the sheet slipped down to her waist. The early morning light cast golden patterns across her olive skin, highlighting the healing scar at her side. Aemond's fingers continued their gentle exploration along her spine, his touch warm against her bare skin.
"Dyana came by hours ago," he murmured, his violet eye following the curve of her shoulder. "After you fell asleep. The blacksmiths' children are being cared for and resting. The Grand Maester's remedies seem to be working."
Vera sighed softly, relief washing over her features. "Thank the gods," she whispered, her dark eyes softening with genuine concern. "I should go see them today. Make sure they have everything they need."
Aemond's expression hardened slightly, his hand stilling against her back. "No," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "You shouldn't go out there. It's not safe, especially with tensions rising in the city."
"I'll have guards with me," Vera countered, turning to face him fully. "Aegon will assign them if I ask."
"I said no," Aemond repeated, his jaw set in stubborn determination. "The Street of Steel is no place for you right now."
Vera studied his face for a moment, her lips curving into a knowing smile as she recognized the protective fire in his eye. She knew exactly how to bend this dragon to her will. Rising to her knees, she moved with deliberate grace, swinging one leg over his hips to straddle him. The sheet fell away completely, leaving her nakedness exposed to his hungry gaze.
Aemond's hands found her waist immediately, his fingers splaying across her skin with careful precision, mindful of her healing wound. His violet eye darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her above him, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in wild disarray.
"Please," Vera said, her lower lip protruding in an adorable pout that belied the mischief in her eyes. "I need to see them."
A smirk played at the corners of Aemond's mouth as he shook his head. "No," he said again, his voice rougher now. "And seducing me won't help your cause, tempting as your methods may be."
Vera tilted her head to one side, reaching up to sweep her hair from her bare shoulder with deliberate slowness. Without breaking eye contact, she shifted her hips and sank down onto him in one fluid motion, drawing a sharp hiss of pleasure from them both.
"Are you certain about that?" she asked, her voice a breathless whisper as she began to move above him.
Aemond's hands tightened on her waist, but he maintained his stubborn refusal even as his body responded to hers. "I won't be swayed so easily," he growled, though the strain in his voice suggested otherwise.
Vera leaned forward, her body still moving in a slow, sensual rhythm above him. Her lips brushed against his, the kiss tender and lingering. When she pulled back slightly, her lips still hovered close to his, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made his breath catch.
"I didn't take the moon tea yesterday morning," she whispered, her voice soft yet deliberate.
Aemond froze beneath her, his eye darkening as the meaning of her words registered. His hands gripped her hips, stilling her movements as he stared up at her with an expression of stunned disbelief.
"Say that again," he demanded, his voice rough with emotion as he sat up with her still in his lap, their bodies remaining joined.
Vera placed her palms against his cheeks, her touch gentle as she cradled his face between her hands. "I didn't take the moon tea," she repeated softly, her dark eyes never leaving his.
A low growl rumbled in Aemond's chest as realization washed over him. They had made love three times just yesterday, and she hadn't taken the preventative tea afterward. The implications sent a surge of primal satisfaction through him.
He captured her mouth in a passionate kiss, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her more firmly against him. Vera's moans were muffled against his lips as he began to move her above him again, guiding her hips in a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through them both.
"If you wish... I can still take it," she whispered, though deep in her heart, she already knew his answer.
"Fuck no," Aemond growled against her lips, his hands tightening possessively on her hips. The thought of her carrying his child already, of their blood mingling to create new life, ignited something fierce and protective within him.
Vera's smile against his lips was answer enough. She wrapped her arms around his neck, surrendering to the moment as their bodies moved together in perfect harmony. The possibility that hung between them—a child, their child—transformed their joining into something more profound, more meaningful than mere pleasure.
Later, as they lay tangled in the sheets, Aemond shifted against the pillows, drawing Vera back against his chest, his arms encircling her protectively. She nestled into his embrace, savoring the warmth of his body against hers, the steady rhythm of his breathing against her back.
Vera smiled a small smile as she saw Aemond's hand resting on her still flat stomach, his long fingers splayed possessively across her skin. The gesture was tender yet claiming—a silent declaration of hope for what might already be growing within her.
"Do you think it's possible?" she whispered, her own fingers tracing over his.
Aemond pressed his lips to her shoulder, his breath warm against her skin. "Yes," he murmured, certainty evident in his voice. "The gods wouldn't be so cruel as to deny us this."
Vera closed her eyes, allowing herself to imagine it—a child with Aemond's silver-gold hair perhaps, or his violet eyes. A son or daughter who would be theirs alone, a tangible embodiment of their love.
"We should tell her," Vera suggested, her hand covering his where it still rested on her stomach. "Mother. About this."
"We will," Aemond said softly, his fingers still splayed protectively across her stomach.
Vera traced her fingers along Aemond's jawline, her expression growing more serious. "I still need to visit those children in the Street of Steel," she said softly. "They've lost one already. I can't just abandon them."
Aemond's jaw tightened beneath her touch. His violet eye studied her face, seeing the determination there that he knew so well. After a long moment, he exhaled heavily.
"Fine," he conceded, his voice low with reluctance. "But you'll take Ser Arryk with you. And Dyana as well."
Vera's eyes lit up, but before she could speak, Aemond pressed a finger to her lips.
"And I'm coming too," he added firmly. "Don't argue with me on this."
Vera's lips curved into a teasing pout as she batted her eyelashes at him. "My fierce dragon, always so protective," she murmured, her voice lilting with playful mockery even as gratitude shone in her eyes.
"Someone has to be," he replied, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "You'd walk into a den of lions with nothing but good intentions to shield you."
Vera's smile softened as she reached up, her fingertips gently tracing the raised edge of his scar as they had countless times before.
Vera looked away from Aemond, her dark eyes fixed on a point across the room. "I almost feel bad for Lady Floris," she admitted softly. "The way she looked at me during the feast... she truly believes she has a claim to you."
Aemond leaned closer, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. He pressed a gentle kiss against her neck, making her eyes flutter closed at the familiar touch. The warmth of his breath against her skin sent pleasant shivers down her spine.
"She'll get over it," he murmured against her skin, his voice vibrating through her.
Vera let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to guide his face away from her neck. She placed a tender kiss on his lips before pulling back slightly, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"You clearly don't understand that Lady Floris is genuinely interested in you," she said, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. "It's not just about the betrothal for her."
Aemond rolled his eye, the violet orb gleaming with dismissal.
"Though I can hardly blame her for wanting you. With those cheekbones and that brooding stare..." Vera said as she traced his jawline with her finger. "It's no one's fault but yours that you're so devastatingly handsome."
Aemond's serious expression cracked, a rare genuine smile spreading across his face. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he rolled them both, pinning her beneath him with careful strength. "And here I thought it was my charming personality that won you over."
Vera laughed, the sound bright and carefree in the morning light. "Oh yes, your legendary charm," she teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The way you scowl at everyone and threaten bodily harm to anyone who displeases you. Absolutely irresistible."
His eye darkened as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against hers. "It worked on you," he murmured.
"I'm a special case," she whispered against his mouth. "I've always seen past the dragon to the man beneath."
The playfulness between them gradually faded as their kiss deepened, replaced by a tender passion that needed no words. When they finally broke apart, Vera sighed contentedly, her fingers playing with the silver-gold strands of his hair.
"We should get dressed," Vera murmured as his lips found the sensitive spot below her ear. "Everyone will be waiting for us at breakfast."
"Just a little longer," Aemond whispered against her neck, his breath warm against her skin as he trailed kisses along her collarbone.
Vera giggled, the sound light and carefree in the morning air. "You said that the last time," she reminded him, though she made no real effort to escape his embrace. Her fingers tangled in his silver-gold hair, betraying her reluctance to end their intimate moment.
"And I meant it then, too," he replied, his lips continuing their sensual journey across her skin.
With a playful sigh of surrender, Vera tilted her head to give him better access. "Five more minutes," she conceded, her voice breathless as his teeth grazed her pulse point. "Then we really must go."
Aemond hummed his agreement against her throat, clearly having no intention of keeping track of time. His hands slid down her sides to her hips, drawing her closer against him as he continued his gentle assault on her senses.
Eventually, Vera mustered enough willpower to place her palms against his chest, gently pushing him back. "Enough," she said, her stern tone undermined by the smile playing at her lips. "We have this evening too."
Aemond chuckled, relenting at last. "Very well, my lady. I suppose the Queen Dowager might not appreciate our tardiness."
With a triumphant smile, Vera pushed herself away from Aemond's embrace. His arms loosened just enough to allow her to slip from the bed, the cool morning air raising goosebumps across her exposed skin.
As her feet touched the cold stone floor, Aemond settled back against the pillows, watching her with undisguised appreciation.
Vera moved to grab a blue dress from her wardrobe. "Dyana will be coming soon," she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. "And you must leave."
Aemond smirked and got out of the bed, stretching his tall frame like a great cat. Vera couldn't help but watch his naked form as he moved across the chamber to retrieve his scattered clothing. The morning light emphasized every muscle, every scar that marked his warrior's body.
She turned her attention to the dress, shaking out its folds as Aemond pulled on his breeches. When he approached her, she lifted her arms, allowing him to help her into the garment. His fingers were surprisingly deft as they worked the laces at her back, tightening them with practiced ease.
Aemond kissed her neck from behind when he finished with the laces. His hands moved from her waist to her flat stomach. Vera smiled softly and placed her hands on his.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked softly, leaning back against his chest.
Aemond kissed her neck again, and Vera closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his lips against her skin.
"Our child," he murmured against her neck, his breath sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.
Vera smiled softly and opened her eyes. She turned to face him, still in his arms, and Aemond placed his hands on her waist, holding her close.
"It will take a little time until we know for sure," she said softly, her dark eyes meeting his violet one.
Aemond smirked, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist. "Then just to make sure, we will have to continue for two more days."
Vera let out a chuckle and shook her head in amusement. "Nope."
A knock on the locked door interrupted them, followed by Dyana's voice from outside. "My lady? Are you awake?"
"One moment," Vera called, reluctantly stepping out of Aemond's embrace.
Aemond deliberately slowed his movements as he pulled on his tunic, taking his time with each fastening. Vera glared at him, which only broadened his smile as he reached for his sword belt.
"You're impossible," she whispered, smoothing her hands over her dress.
"You love it," he replied, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Aemond stepped closer, pulling her against him one last time. He kissed her for a moment, his lips lingering on hers as if memorizing their softness. Then he pulled back, securing his eye patch over the sapphire before moving toward the tapestry.
"I'll see you at breakfast," he whispered, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel.
After he vanished, Vera took a deep breath, composing herself before crossing to unlock the door. Dyana walked inside, her arms full of fresh linens and a small basket of hair pins.
"Good morrow, my lady," she greeted, her knowing smile suggesting she had a good idea of who had been in the chamber moments before. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, thank you," Vera replied, moving to sit at her dressing table.
Dyana set down her basket and began to work on Vera's dark hair, her fingers deftly weaving the strands into an elegant style suitable for the morning meal with the royal family.
*******
Aemond strode purposefully through the corridors of the Red Keep, his black clothing and confident bearing causing servants to flatten themselves against walls as he passed.
Aemond turned the corner, his footsteps echoing against the stone floors of the Red Keep. Two household guards stood at attention outside the dining hall. They straightened further at his approach, nodding respectfully as he passed.
Ser Criston Cole stood nearby, his white armor gleaming. The Lord Commander's dark eyes met Aemond's, a silent communication passing between them as they exchanged nods.
Pushing open the heavy oak doors, Aemond's violet eye immediately surveyed the scene before him. His mother sat at the table beside Helaena, who was helping Jaehaerys arrange his napkin while the boy fidgeted impatiently. Aegon slouched in his seat at the head of the table. In the corner, Otto stood in close conversation with Lady Floris.
"Aemond!" Alicent called, her face brightening as she spotted her son. She rose gracefully from her seat, her green gown rustling softly as she crossed the chamber to greet him.
Reaching up, she placed a maternal kiss on his cheek, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder in a gesture of affection that few others would dare attempt with the volatile prince. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten our breakfast," she teased gently.
Before Aemond could respond, a small figure darted across the chamber with surprising speed for her size. Jaehaera, her silver-gold curls bouncing with each step, nearly collided with Aemond's legs in her excitement.
"Uncle Aemond!" the little princess called, her arms outstretched demandingly.
Aemond knelt down, scooping his niece into his arms with practiced ease. The little girl squealed with delight as he lifted her high, her silver-gold curls catching the morning light.
"Higher, Uncle Aemond!" Jaehaera demanded, her small hands gripping his shoulders.
Aemond obliged, raising her above his head until she giggled uncontrollably, her violet eyes sparkling with joy.
Lady Floris watched them, smiling softly as Aemond played with his niece. Her heart warmed at the sight of the fearsome prince being so gentle with the little girl. One day, she thought, he would hold their children with the same care. She would be the one to give him heirs, to make him a father. No matter what bond existed between him and Vera Cole, Lady Floris knew her place in this world. She was a Baratheon, daughter of Storm's End, and she would not be set aside for a Lord Commander's adopted daughter.
Otto observed her, his shrewd eyes narrowing slightly as he read the possessive determination in her gaze. Lady Floris moved forward with practiced grace, Otto following a few steps behind.
"Good morrow, Prince Aemond," Lady Floris greeted, her voice sweet as honey.
Aemond's expression hardened almost imperceptibly. He gently lowered Jaehaera to the ground, though the little princess immediately pouted and grabbed his hands in her tiny ones, refusing to be dismissed.
"Nooo," Jaehaera whined, clinging to him. "I want to play more!"
Aemond allowed the child to hold his hands, his attention split between his niece's demands and the unwelcome presence of Lady Floris. His violet eye met hers with cool indifference.
"Lady Floris," he acknowledged, his tone noticeably lacking the warmth he'd shown his family moments before.
The doors opened once more, drawing all eyes as Vera entered the chamber. Ser Arryk took up his position outside the door as it closed behind her.
Alicent immediately moved to greet her, brushing past Lady Floris with barely a glance. The Queen Dowager's face transformed with genuine warmth as she placed her hands on Vera's shoulders, leaning in to kiss her cheek with maternal affection.
"My dear," she said softly, her green eyes crinkling at the corners. "You look lovely this morning."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Vera replied, her own smile mirroring Alicent's warmth.
As they moved toward the table, Vera's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Aegon already seated, a plate of food before him despite the early hour. Her lips curved into a teasing smile as she took her customary place.
"I'm shocked to see you conscious at this hour, Aegon," she remarked, her tone light with familiar mockery. "Who performed this miracle? I must congratulate them."
Aegon groaned dramatically, though amusement glinted in his violet eyes. "The twins," he admitted, gesturing toward his children. "They decided dawn was the perfect time to practice their jumping skills—on my bed."
Jaehaerys and Jaehaera dissolved into giggles at their father's exasperated tone, their small faces alight with mischievous pride.
"They've clearly been taking lessons from you," Aegon added, narrowing his eyes playfully at Vera. "This has your signature all over it."
Vera's lips twitched with barely suppressed laughter as she reached for a piece of bread. "I can neither confirm nor deny my influence," she replied primly, though the smirk playing at the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
Aemond settled into his seat at the opposite end of the table from his brother, his position allowing him an unobstructed view of everyone present. His violet eye moved from Vera to Lady Floris and back again, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts.
Servants moved efficiently around them, filling goblets with watered wine and placing platters of fresh fruit, bread, and honeyed porridge on the table. The morning sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting golden patterns across the polished surface.
"Vera," Alicent said as she delicately buttered a piece of bread, "did Grand Maester Orwyle give you word about those children you asked him to check on? The blacksmiths' daughters?"
"I've been informed, Your Grace," Vera replied, her expression softening with genuine concern. "They're much improved, but I intend to visit them personally after breakfast. I want to ensure they have everything they need for a full recovery."
Alicent nodded, her eyes warm with understanding. "Of course you do," she said softly, a hint of pride in her voice. The Queen Dowager had long ago accepted that Vera's compassion for the smallfolk was as much a part of her as her dark eyes or gentle smile.
Otto frowned, his brow furrowing as he leaned forward. "Vera, I must express my concerns about you venturing into the Street of Steel. The city grows more unstable each day, and with your recent injury..."
"I assure you I'll be perfectly safe, Grandfather," Vera replied, her voice firm yet respectful. "Ser Arryk will accompany me, along with Dyana." She glanced toward Aemond, who sat watching her with that intense violet eye. "And Aemond has expressed his wish to come as well."
Otto's eyebrows rose slightly at this last addition, but he seemed to consider it carefully. After a moment, he nodded reluctantly. "Very well. I suppose with such protection, you should be safe enough."
Across the table, Alicent and Helaena exchanged glances, small smiles playing at their lips. Vera caught the look but pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the porridge before her.
Lady Floris shifted in her seat, her fingers tightening around her goblet. The crimson of her gown seemed to deepen with her obvious displeasure.
"Perhaps I shall accompany you as well," Lady Floris suggested. "I would so like to see how you interact with the smallfolk. It would be... educational for me."
Before Vera could formulate a diplomatic response, Aemond's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"No," he said coldly, not even bothering to look at Lady Floris as he spoke.
The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife. Lady Floris's cheeks flushed crimson, nearly matching her gown, but she maintained her composure with admirable restraint.
Jaehaerys tilted his head, studying Lady Floris with childish curiosity. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly, in the direct manner only children could get away with.
Lady Floris's strained smile softened slightly as she turned to the young prince. "I am Lady Floris Baratheon of Storm's End, little prince."
Jaehaera's eyes widened with interest. "Why are you here?"
Aegon cleared his throat, setting down his goblet. "Lady Floris is here because she is to marry your uncle Aemond," he explained, his violet eyes flickering briefly to Vera before returning to his children.
The twins exchanged a startled look, their identical faces registering identical confusion. They glanced at Lady Floris, then at Aemond, before their eyes settled on Vera. Another look passed between them, heavy with childish consternation.
In the sudden quiet that had fallen over the table, Jaehaera's whisper to her brother was perfectly audible.
"But I thought Uncle Aemond was going to marry Aunt Vera one day," she said, her small brow furrowed in confusion.
Jaehaerys nodded solemnly. "Me too," he whispered back.
Vera felt heat rush to her cheeks as all eyes turned toward her. She stared fixedly at her plate, unable to meet anyone's gaze.
Lady Floris's face had gone rigid, her smile frozen in place though it no longer reached her eyes. She set down her goblet with careful precision. "Children have such charming imaginations," she said, her voice strained with forced lightness.
"Out of the mouths of babes," Alicent murmured, hiding her smile behind her napkin.
Otto cleared his throat loudly. "Perhaps we should discuss the preparations for the upcoming Small Council meeting," he said, clearly attempting to steer the conversation to safer waters.
"Yes," Alicent agreed smoothly, though amusement still lingered in her green eyes.
Jaehaera frowned. "But no one answered my question."
"There is no answer to give," Aegon replied sharply.
Lady Floris lowered her gaze to her plate, though the tightness around her mouth betrayed her frustration.
Aemond calmly reached for his goblet, but the small smirk Aegon saw on his brother's lips only made him angrier.
Alicent noticed the look immediately and turned toward her daughter. "Helaena, perhaps you might take the twins to the gardens? The morning air would do them good."
Helaena nodded as she rose from her seat. "Come, little ones. Let's see if we can find any butterflies today."
The twins climbed down from their chairs and followed their mother from the dining hall, still whispering to one another.
The heavy oak door closed behind them with a soft thud, leaving a silence so profound Vera could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Aegon sat rigid in his chair, his violet eyes moving between Vera and Aemond with barely contained fury. "Brother," he said, his voice dangerously low as he rose from his seat. "We need to speak. Now. In the council chamber."
Aemond's expression remained impassive save for the slight curve of his lips—not quite a smile, but something close to satisfaction. He set his own goblet down with deliberate care.
"By all means, Your Grace," he replied, the formal address carrying a hint of mockery as he stood.
Vera looked between the two brothers, her dark eyes widening with concern. The tension between them crackled like lightning before a storm, dangerous and unpredictable. She made a move to rise, but Alicent's hand gently covered hers.
"Let them go," the Queen Dowager murmured, her voice barely audible.
Vera hesitated, her gaze following Aemond as he strode toward the door, his tall figure radiating controlled power. Aegon followed a step behind, his shoulders rigid with barely contained fury.
The tension in the dining hall became suffocating after the prince's and the King's departed. Lady Floris sat rigid in her seat, her face a mask of controlled fury as she stared at the polished surface of the table. Otto cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the strained silence. He exchanged a meaningful glance with his daughter and gave a subtle nod toward Vera.
"I believe some fresh air would do us good," Alicent said, rising gracefully from her seat. She extended her hand to Vera, her green eyes warm with maternal concern. "Come, dear."
Vera accepted the Queen Dowager's hand gratefully, eager to escape the smothering atmosphere. Lady Floris remained seated, her fingers clenched around her goblet, knuckles white with tension.
Otto moved toward the Baratheon girl. "Lady Floris, perhaps you would allow me to explain certain... complexities of court that may not be apparent to you."
Alicent guided Vera toward the door, her hand gentle but firm on the younger woman's arm. As they stepped into the corridor, Vera took a deep breath, the knot in her stomach loosening slightly now that they were away from Lady Floris's burning gaze.
Ser Criston stood at attention outside, his dark eyes immediately seeking Vera's. Something in her expression must have alarmed him, for his hand moved instinctively to his sword hilt before he mastered himself. Ser Arryk stepped forward from his position, his weathered face revealing nothing of his thoughts as he fell into step beside them.
The small procession moved through the corridors in silence, the knights' white cloaks billowing behind them like sails in a gentle breeze. When they reached the garden doors, Vera's shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension easing from her body as the fresh morning air greeted them.
Alicent linked her arm through Vera's, a gesture as familiar and comforting as it had been since Vera was a child. They walked together along the gravel path, their steps perfectly matched after years of such promenades.
The gardens were quiet at this hour. In the distance, Helaena could be seen with the twins, who were chasing butterflies with delighted squeals.
"I think," Vera said softly, breaking the silence between them, "it would be best if I check on those children without Aemond." She glanced toward the Red Keep, her expression troubled. "I can take Ser Arryk and Dyana. They'll be protection enough."
Alicent sighed, her green eyes searching Vera's face. "I don't believe I will convince you not to," she conceded reluctantly. "Though Aemond will be furious when he discovers you've gone without him."
"I know," Vera admitted, her lips curving into a sad smile. "But it's better this way. He and Aegon need time to... resolve things." She paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "I'm so sorry about what happened in there. About the twins."
Alicent squeezed her arm gently, her expression softening. "Don't apologize," she said firmly. "It is not your fault."
Vera exhaled slowly, her dark eyes troubled as she gazed across the gardens. "What will happen now?"
Before Alicent could respond, Helaena approached with the twins, her dreamy smile brightening as she saw her mother and Vera. Jaehaera immediately broke away, running toward them with her arms outstretched.
"Aunt Vera!" she called, her silver-gold curls bouncing with each step. "Look what I found!"
Vera knelt, opening her arms to receive the small princess. Jaehaera barreled into her embrace, nearly knocking her over with the force of her enthusiasm. When she pulled back, she opened her small palm to reveal a perfect butterfly wing, iridescent blue in the morning light.
"It's beautiful," Vera said, smiling despite the ache in her heart. "Like a little piece of sky."
Jaehaerys approached more sedately, his violet eyes serious as he studied Vera's face. "Are you sad?" he asked with a child's directness.
Vera hesitated, unsure how to answer. "A little," she admitted finally, seeing no point in lying to the perceptive child.
The young prince nodded solemnly. "Don't be. Uncle Aemond won't marry the stag lady. He wants to marry you."
"Jaehaerys," Helaena chided gently, though her dreamy smile suggested she agreed with her son's assessment.
Vera rose to her feet. "I should prepare for my visit to the Street of Steel," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "The blacksmiths' children will be waiting."
Alicent nodded, understanding in her green eyes. "Take Ser Arryk and your father with you," she instructed. "And your maid. I'll explain to Aemond when he's finished with Aegon."
Vera glanced toward Ser Criston and then Alicent, her dark eyes troubled. "I can't take my father with me, mother," she said softly. "He must stay here, with you and the children."
"It's fine, my dear," Alicent assured her, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "The Kingsguard have their rotations well established."
"Thank you," Vera replied, gratitude evident in her voice. She turned to Ser Criston, who stood a few paces away, his white cloak stirring gently in the morning breeze.
Ser Criston nodded to a nearby knight—Ser Willis Fell—who immediately moved to take his position near the Queen Dowager. With a bow to Alicent, Criston joined his daughter, his dark eyes studying her face with paternal concern.
*******
Vera strode along the winding cobblestone path, drawing her simple brown cloak tighter around her shoulders. The Street of Steel hummed with morning activity—hammers ringing against anvils, apprentices calling to one another, merchants haggling over the price of goods. Dressed in her plain attire, she blended seamlessly with the common folk, her dark hair tucked beneath the hood to avoid drawing attention.
Behind her walked Dyana, similarly dressed in muted colors. Ser Criston and Ser Arryk flanked them, their white armor and distinctive cloaks exchanged for the rough garb of common folk. Only the quality of their swords, carefully concealed beneath their cloaks, betrayed their true station.
"Won't the Prince be angry?" Dyana whispered, keeping pace with her mistress.
"Oh, he'll be furious," Vera replied, her lips curving into a small smile despite the worry in her eyes. "But I couldn't wait for him and Aegon to finish their... discussion."
Ser Criston's expression remained carefully neutral, though his dark eyes constantly scanned their surroundings. "We should have brought more guards," he muttered, his hand resting casually on his concealed sword hilt.
"Then we would have drawn attention," Vera countered softly. "This is better."
As they rounded a corner, the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal grew louder. A large man stood outside his forge, hammer in hand as he shaped a glowing piece of steel. Vera recognized him immediately—Hugh, one of the blacksmiths who had attended the hearing at court.
The burly man looked up at their approach, his brow furrowed momentarily before recognition dawned in his eyes. He set his hammer down, wiping his hands on his leather apron as a broad smile spread across his weathered face.
"Lady Vera," he greeted warmly, offering a respectful bow that seemed at odds with his massive frame. "What brings you to the Street of Steel?"
"Hugh," Vera greeted him warmly, genuinely pleased to see the man. "I came to ask after your daughter. How is she feeling?"
Relief washed over the blacksmith's face. "The fever's going down, m'lady, thanks to you and that maester you sent. She's sleeping better now too, not tossing and turning like before."
"I'm so glad to hear it," Vera said, her dark eyes warming with sincere concern. "May I see her? I've brought some things that might help with her recovery."
"Of course, m'lady," Hugh replied eagerly, gesturing toward a modest dwelling attached to the forge. "My Kat's with her now. Please, follow me."
He led them through the forge, the heat from the furnace washing over them in waves as they passed. The dwelling beyond was small but clean, with a single main room serving as both kitchen and living area. A woman knelt beside a pallet near the hearth, wringing out a cloth in a basin of water.
She looked up as they entered, her tired eyes widening at the sight of the visitors. She scrambled to her feet, dropping into an awkward curtsy.
"M'lady," she gasped, clearly flustered by Vera's presence in her humble home. "We weren't expecting such an honor."
"Please," Vera said gently, moving forward with outstretched hands. "Don't trouble yourself, goodwife. I've come to see how your daughter fares."
Kat straightened, her worn face softening as she glanced toward the small form on the pallet. "She's sleeping now, m'lady. First proper sleep she's had in days."
Vera approached the pallet slowly, kneeling beside the sleeping child. Lya couldn't have been more than six, her small face still flushed with the remnants of fever, dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Yet her breathing was deep and even, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of healing sleep.
"She looks much improved," Vera observed softly, placing a gentle hand on the child's brow. "The fever has broken, I think."
At her gentle touch, the girl's eyes fluttered open, revealing dark brown irises clouded with sleep and illness.
"Hello, Lya," Vera said softly, smiling at the child. "My name is Vera. I've come to see how you're feeling."
The girl blinked in confusion, her gaze moving from Vera to her parents and back again. "Are you a princess?" she asked, her voice raspy from illness.
A shadow of something—perhaps sadness, perhaps resignation—flickered across Vera's face before her smile returned. "No, sweetling. I'm just a lady who wanted to make sure you were getting better."
Dyana stepped forward, setting a basket on a nearby table. "We've brought you some things," she explained, removing a small pot of honey and several bundles of herbs. "Honey mixed with thyme for your throat, and these herbs can be steeped in hot water to ease your breathing."
"And this," Vera added, reaching into the basket to withdraw a small wooden dragon, exquisitely carved and painted in brilliant red and black. "To keep you company while you recover."
Lya's eyes widened with delight as she reached for the toy. "A dragon," she whispered reverently, her small fingers tracing the detailed scales. "Like Prince Aemond's Vhagar."
Vera's smile softened at the mention of Aemond. "Yes, just like Vhagar," she agreed. "Though perhaps a bit smaller."
Hugh's wife moved closer, her eyes glistening with unshed tears of gratitude. "You're too kind, m'lady," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "We can't thank you enough for what you've done for our Lya."
"There's no need for thanks," Vera assured her, rising to her feet. "Children deserve care, no matter their birth or station. Now, there are another child I must see, so I must go."
As they prepared to leave, Lya's small voice called out from the pallet. "Lady Vera?"
Vera turned, her expression softening as she met the child's gaze. "Yes, sweetling?"
"Will you come back to see me again?" Lya asked, clutching the wooden dragon to her chest.
Something in the girl's innocent question touched Vera deeply. She moved back to the pallet and knelt once more, reaching out to smooth a strand of dark hair from the child's forehead.
"I will try," she promised softly. "And when you're feeling better, perhaps you can come to the castle with your father when he delivers the new weapons. Would you like that?"
Lya's eyes widened with wonder. "The castle? Really?"
"Really," Vera confirmed with a smile. "I'll show you the gardens where the royal children play. There are butterflies there that Queen Helaena has trained to come when she calls."
The child's face lit up with excitement at this prospect, her illness momentarily forgotten in the thrill of such an extraordinary invitation.
With a final gentle touch to Lya's cheek, Vera rose and turned to her parents. "I should take my leave now. There are other children I must see."
"Of course, m'lady," Hugh said, bowing deeply. "In fact, my friend Tobin's daughter was sick too. His forge is just down the street. I can take you there if you'd like."
"That would be most kind," Vera replied, adjusting her cloak.
Kat clasped Vera's hands in her own work-roughened ones. "The gods bless you, m'lady. We won't forget your kindness."
Vera squeezed the woman's hands. "Take good care of her. And remember, steep those herbs twice daily until her cough is gone."
Outside the modest dwelling, Hugh led them through the bustling street. The sharp scent of hot metal and coal smoke filled the air as they walked past several forges. Ser Criston stayed close to his daughter's side, his vigilant gaze sweeping the crowded street, while Ser Arryk followed a few paces behind with Dyana.
"It's just here," Hugh said, gesturing to another forge where a man worked alongside a young boy.
The blacksmith—Tobin—was hammering a glowing piece of metal, his powerful arms glistening with sweat despite the cool autumn air. Beside him, a boy of about eight years worked the bellows, his small face furrowed with concentration as he pumped steadily to keep the fire hot.
"Tobin!" Hugh called out, waving to his friend. "Look who's come to visit!"
The blacksmith looked up, his hammer pausing mid-strike as he noticed the approaching group. Hugh leaned in, speaking quickly to his friend. "This is Lady Vera—the one who sent the maester and food for little Maris when the fever took her."
Recognition dawned in Tobin's eyes. He set down his hammer and wiped his hands on his apron before offering a deep bow. "M'lady," he said, his voice rough from years of shouting over the forge. "It's an honor. This is my boy, Edric."
The child stopped working the bellows and bowed awkwardly, his eyes wide as they took in Vera's beautiful features despite her simple clothing.
"Hello, Edric," Vera said warmly. She turned her attention to Tobin. "How is your daughter faring? I heard she was quite ill."
Before Tobin could answer, Edric piped up eagerly. "Maris is much better now, m'lady! She's eating proper again, and her fever's gone completely. This morning she even asked for a second bowl of porridge!"
Vera smiled down at the boy, touched by his obvious concern for his sister. "That's wonderful news. Might I see her? I've brought some things that might help her recover her strength more quickly."
Tobin nodded immediately. "Of course, m'lady. She's inside with my wife. Please, this way."
He led them toward a small cottage adjacent to the forge, calling out as they approached. "Lenna! We have visitors!"
Inside, the cottage was humble but meticulously kept. A woman looked up from where she sat mending clothes, her tired face brightening with surprise at the unexpected guests. In the corner, a small girl of perhaps five summers sat propped up on a pallet, playing with a rag doll.
"The lady from the castle," Tobin explained to his wife. "The one who sent help for our Maris."
Understanding dawned in Lenna's eyes as she rose quickly, curtseying to Vera. "M'lady, we're forever grateful. The maester you sent saved our daughter's life."
Vera smiled at the woman before she moved toward the child, kneeling beside her pallet. "Hello, Maris. My name is Vera. I'm glad to see you're feeling better."
The little girl studied Vera with solemn eyes before offering a shy smile. "Thank you for sending the maester. He gave me medicine that didn't taste too bad."
Vera laughed softly. "That's high praise indeed for medicine." She gestured to Dyana, who brought forward the basket they'd carried. "I've brought you something to help you grow strong again."
From the basket, Vera withdrew another wooden dragon, this one painted in shimmering green and bronze. Maris's eyes widened with delight as she accepted the toy, her small fingers tracing the intricate carving.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, clearly entranced.
"There's also honey for your throat, and dried apples to help you regain your strength," Vera explained, placing these items on a small table nearby. "And this—" she pulled out a small cloth bundle "—is a special tea that will help you sleep. Just a small cup before bed each night until you're fully recovered."
Lenna's eyes filled with tears. "M'lady, we don't know how to thank you properly."
"There's no need," Vera assured her. "I'm just glad to see Maris improving." She turned to Edric, who hovered nearby, watching the exchange with curious eyes. "You must be a good brother, helping your father at the forge while your sister recovers."
The boy straightened proudly. "I'm learning to be a smith like Father. Someday I'll make swords for the king's men!"
"I've no doubt you will," Vera replied warmly. "The king values skilled craftsmen above all others."
She spent a few more moments with the family, gently examining Maris to ensure the fever had truly broken and offering advice on her continued care. When she finally rose to leave, the entire family accompanied her to the door, their gratitude evident in every word and gesture.
Outside, the Street of Steel had grown more crowded as the morning progressed. Ser Criston moved closer to Vera, his protective instincts heightened by the press of bodies around them.
"We should return to the castle, Ver," he murmured, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. "It grows late."
Vera nodded, though reluctance showed in her eyes. "There are two more families I wished to visit," she said softly. "Children who were ill when the maester came yesterday."
"Perhaps another day," Ser Arryk suggested gently. "The Lord Commander is right. We've been away longer than planned, and after this morning's... events, it would be unwise to delay our return further."
Vera sighed, knowing they were right. Aemond would be furious enough that she had left without him; the longer she stayed away, the worse his temper would be when she returned.
"Very well," she conceded. "But I'll have baskets sent to the other families today, with medicines and food."
They made their way back through the winding streets toward the Red Keep.
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
Dawn crept through the cabin windows, painting golden stripes across the wooden floor. In the small bedroom, Rachel and Noctis slept peacefully, their bodies entwined beneath the rumpled sheets. Rachel's head rested on Noctis' chest, rising and falling with each of his steady breaths, while his arms encircled her protectively.
Outside, the first chocobo calls of morning echoed across the post, cheerful "kwehs" that announced the beginning of a new day. The sounds filtered through the cabin walls, gradually pulling Rachel from the depths of slumber. Her eyelids fluttered, consciousness returning slowly as she registered the warmth beneath her cheek and the steady rhythm of Noctis' heartbeat in her ear.
For several moments, she didn't move, savoring the security of his arms around her and the peaceful expression on his sleeping face.
Rachel lifted her head slightly, careful not to wake him as she studied his features in the soft morning light. Her body felt wonderfully restored, the magical exhaustion of yesterday replaced by a deep sense of well-being.
Outside their window, Blaze landed on the windowsill with barely a sound, his golden feathers catching the early sunlight.
In the neighboring cabin, Ignis was already awake, moving quietly through the kitchenette as he prepared coffee. The strategist had risen with the sun, his mind already working through the day's plans while Prompto continued to sleep and Gladio was showering.
Back in the other cabin, Noctis began to wake, his consciousness rising slowly through layers of sleep. His first awareness was of Rachel's warmth against him, the delicate weight of her head on his chest, and the silky touch of her hair against his skin. His arms tightened instinctively around her, drawing her closer as he drifted in that peaceful space between sleep and wakefulness.
When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Rachel watching him, her blue eyes soft with an emotion that made his heart skip a beat. The memory of last night—their confessions, their promises, their passion—rushed back, bringing a smile to his lips.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep as he raised one hand to brush her cheek.
"Good morning," she replied softly, leaning into his touch. "Did you sleep well?"
Noctis nodded, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. "I am, with you" His eyes searched her face, looking for any lingering signs of the exhaustion that had worried him so much yesterday. "How are you feeling?"
Rachel smiled, the expression brightening her entire face. "Much better. I think I'm fully recovered." She stretched slightly, testing her body's response, and found only the pleasant soreness that came from their lovemaking rather than magical depletion.
Noctis watched her with undisguised admiration, his eyes tracing the graceful line of her neck as she stretched. The sheet had slipped down to her waist, revealing the curve of her breasts and the smooth expanse of her skin in the morning light. He reached out, his fingers skimming along her collarbone in a touch that was both reverent and possessive.
"You're beautiful," he said simply, the words carrying all the weight of his feelings for her.
A soft blush colored Rachel's cheeks, but she didn't look away. Instead, she leaned down to press her lips against his in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened as Noctis' hand moved to cup the back of her head.
When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Rachel's eyes sparkled with mischief. "So," she said, her voice light and teasing, "are we going to see the chocobos today?"
Noctis let out a soft chuckle. "Is that all you can think about right now?" he asked, his hands sliding down to her waist.
Rachel grinned, enjoying the rare opportunity to see him so relaxed. "Well, I was promised chocobos. And after hearing about your childhood adventures with them, I'm even more curious."
"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Noctis groaned, though there was no real annoyance in his tone.
"Never," Rachel confirmed with a laugh, leaning down to kiss him again.
Meanwhile, in the next cabin over, the morning had already begun in deliberate, measured increments.
A sudden tap at the window startled Prompto awake and slip off the bed to the carpet. Ignis moved to the window without haste, sliding it open with a practiced hand.
On the sill, the golden eagle regarded him with one bright eye, head tilted in polite inquiry. Ignis extended his arm, and the eagle stepped onto it with a surprising delicacy.
"Good morning, Blaze," Ignis said, his voice pitched just above a whisper. The eagle responded with a soft greeting. Ignis carried Blaze to the kitchenette, where the morning's first coffee was beginning to percolate. Steam rose in gentle plumes, and the aroma of dark roast mingled with the faint musk of feathers and pine that clung to Blaze's plumage.
Prompto, now sitting Indian-style on the carpet, watched as Ignis poured water into one of the blue enamel bowls lined up on the counter. Blaze stepped down from Ignis's wrist and began preening, wings flicking in slow, deliberate rhythm.
Prompto got up, brushing his fingers through his hair as he walked out of the bedroom. The morning light filtered through the cabin windows, casting long shadows across the wooden floor.
"Morning, Iggy," Prompto yawned, stretching his arms overhead.
Ignis acknowledged him with a slight nod before reaching for one of the blue enamel bowls lined up on the counter. He filled it with fresh water and placed it in front of Blaze.
The eagle dipped his head in appreciation, giving a soft call that sounded remarkably like gratitude.
"You're welcome," Ignis replied, as if understanding the bird perfectly.
Gladio emerged from the bathroom, toweling his damp hair. "Shower's free," he announced, tossing the towel over his shoulder.
Prompto grabbed his clothes and headed for the bathroom, emerging fifteen minutes later fully dressed and considerably more awake. His hair was styled in its usual spiky arrangement.
"Hey," Prompto said, accepting a cup of coffee from Ignis with a grateful smile. "Do you think Rachel's better today?"
Ignis adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "She should be. Flora's resilience has proven remarkable thus far. A night's rest would have done her good."
He pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Noctis, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency across the screen. "I've asked Noctis to bring her over once they're ready."
While Ignis was occupied with his phone, Prompto set down his coffee cup and edged closer to Blaze. The eagle watched him approach, golden eyes tracking his movement. Undeterred by previous failures, Prompto slowly extended his hand toward the bird's magnificent plumage.
"Easy there, buddy," he coaxed, fingers just inches from Blaze's feathers. "We're all friends here, right?"
Blaze's feathers bristled instantly. The eagle's head snapped toward Prompto's approaching hand, beak opening in a clear warning. The sound that emerged was not the soft call of thanks he'd given Ignis but a sharp, unmistakable threat.
Prompto jerked his hand back with a dramatic pout. "Aw, come on! Why can't we be friends, dude? What's a guy gotta do?"
Gladio, watching from his position against the counter, let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Maybe he just doesn't like your hair," he suggested, smirking over the rim of his coffee cup.
Ignis glanced up from his phone with a deliberately exaggerated sigh. He set the device aside and moved to grab five plates from the cabinet. As he passed Blaze, he casually reached out and stroked the eagle's head, his gloved fingers gently smoothing the ruffled feathers.
Blaze not only tolerated the touch but seemed to lean into it, making a contented sound deep in his throat.
"Hey!" Prompto protested, gesturing wildly between Ignis and the bird. "That's totally unfair!"
Ignoring Prompto's outburst, Ignis moved to the table and arranged the five plates with methodical precision. Blaze turned his head toward Prompto, tilting it to one side as if studying an interesting but puzzling specimen.
"He clearly likes you," Gladio observed, his grin widening as he pushed away from the counter. "That's why he enjoys annoying you so much."
"That doesn't make any sense," Prompto grumbled, flopping down into one of the chairs. He shot Blaze a suspicious look. "Is that true? Are you messing with me because you actually like me?"
Blaze blinked once, slowly, maintaining his dignified silence.
A knock at the door interrupted any further bird-human negotiations. Ignis moved to answer it, opening the door to reveal Noctis and Rachel standing on the small porch.
"Good morning," Rachel greeted them with a warm smile. Her eyes immediately sought out Blaze, who launched himself from the table to land gracefully on her outstretched arm. She stroked his feathers with familiar affection, the eagle preening under her touch.
"You're looking much better," Ignis observed, stepping aside to let them enter. Indeed, the color had returned to Rachel's cheeks, and the exhaustion that had weighed her down yesterday seemed to have vanished completely.
"I feel much better," she confirmed, her voice carrying a new confidence. "A good night's rest was exactly what I needed."
Prompto bounced up from his chair, his earlier frustration with Blaze forgotten. "Great! Because today—" he paused dramatically, arms spread wide "—we're going to see the chocobos!"
His enthusiasm was infectious, bringing smiles to everyone's faces, even Ignis's. Rachel's eyes lit up with genuine excitement at the prospect.
"I can't wait," she said, glancing at Noctis with a teasing smile. "Especially after hearing about Noct's childhood adventures with them."
Noctis groaned, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Breakfast first," Ignis announced, gesturing toward the table where steaming plates awaited them. "Then chocobos."
They settled around the table, the morning light streaming through the windows casting warm patches across the wooden floor. As they ate, conversation flowed easily between them, punctuated by Prompto's excited descriptions of the chocobos and occasional laughter.
Gladio, between bites of his breakfast, studied Noctis and Rachel with a knowing eye. "You two seem pretty cheerful this morning," he remarked, a hint of teasing in his gruff voice. "Again."
A faint blush colored Rachel's cheeks, but she didn't look away. Instead, her hand found Noctis's under the table, their fingers intertwining in a gesture that seemed both natural and significant.
Noctis met Gladio's gaze with unusual directness. "We have something to tell you guys," he said, his voice steady despite the slight tension in his shoulders.
The three men paused, attention shifting fully to the couple. Even Blaze, who had been content to observe from his perch near the window, seemed to focus more intently on the unfolding moment.
Rachel's grip on Noctis's hand tightened slightly, drawing strength from his presence as she looked at the faces of these men who had become her friends—her family—in such a short time.
"Noctis and I have decided," she began, her voice clear despite its softness, "to honor the original engagement between our families."
For a moment, silence filled the cabin as the announcement settled. Then Prompto's face split into a wide grin, his eyes lighting up with genuine delight.
"You guys are getting married?" he exclaimed, nearly bouncing in his seat. "That's awesome!"
Ignis adjusted his glasses, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I believe congratulations are in order," he said warmly. "Though I must say, it's hardly unexpected."
Gladio's expression softened into something genuinely affectionate as he looked at the couple. "About time," he said simply, raising his coffee mug in a toast. "To the future Queen."
Rachel blushed deeply at the title, still unaccustomed to thinking of herself in those terms.
"So when's the big day?" Prompto asked eagerly, already reaching for his camera as if prepared to document wedding preparations on the spot.
Noctis chuckled, shaking his head at his friend's enthusiasm. "We haven't gotten that far yet," he admitted. "One step at a time."
"Indeed," Ignis agreed. "There are more immediate concerns to address. We should continue to Lestallum as planned. From there, we can reassess our journey to Altissia."
Prompto shrugged. "Okay." His eyes darted between Rachel and Noctis, catching the slight fall in Rachel's expression. A mischievous grin spread across his face as an idea formed.
"So, about the wedding," he began, his tone deliberately casual though his eyes danced with amusement. "It should probably be soon, right? Not after nine months when the baby comes out."
Gladio's deep laugh filled the cabin while Ignis looked up from his coffee, one eyebrow raised in amusement though he visibly tried to maintain his composed expression.
Noctis and Rachel stared at each other in wide-eyed surprise before their heads snapped toward Prompto. Rachel's face flushed crimson, the color spreading from her cheeks down her neck.
"What baby?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "We're not having one."
Prompto nodded slowly, exaggerating the motion. "Alright, that's okay," he said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. He turned to Noctis, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Noct. Did you pull out?"
Noctis lunged across the table, nearly knocking over his coffee as he tried to grab Prompto. Rachel dropped her head into her hands with a mortified groan. Prompto, anticipating the reaction, sprang from his chair with surprising agility, dancing backward out of Noctis's reach.
"You're dead," Noctis growled, half-rising from his seat.
Gladio watched the scene unfold with undisguised amusement, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Even Ignis seemed to be fighting a smile as he adjusted his glasses.
"I'm just looking out for the future of the royal line!" Prompto protested, maintaining a safe distance from Noctis's reach. "Someone has to think about these things!"
Rachel tried to ignore what just happened, but she was still of course embarrassed and placed her hand on Noctis' arm to put him back in place. The touch was gentle but firm, her fingers curling around his forearm with just enough pressure to ground him.
"Sit down," she whispered, her cheeks still burning. "Please."
Noctis hesitated, his eyes still fixed on Prompto with murderous intent, but Rachel's touch seemed to drain the fight from him. With a final glare at his friend, he sank back into his chair.
Prompto returned to his seat as he smirked, clearly pleased with the reaction he'd provoked. He opened his mouth, no doubt to continue his teasing, when Blaze suddenly gave a soft, concerned call from his perch by the window.
The strange, warbling note cut through the cabin's atmosphere like a knife. All five heads turned toward the eagle, whose posture had shifted from relaxed to alert in an instant. His golden feathers were slightly raised, his keen eyes fixed on something beyond the cabin walls.
The men looked at Rachel, who was already frowning.
"Blaze says something's wrong with the chocobos," she said, her voice soft but troubled. The embarrassment of moments before was completely forgotten as she rose from her chair, moving toward the window where Blaze perched. "They're scared of something."
Prompto's playful demeanor vanished immediately. "The chocobos?" he repeated, concern replacing mischief.
Ignis was already on his feet, gathering the keys to the cabin. "Perhaps we should investigate," he suggested, his tone brisk and practical.
They abandoned their half-eaten breakfast without further discussion. The group moved out of the front door, and Ignis locked it behind them. The morning air was crisp and clean, but an undercurrent of tension seemed to vibrate through the Chocobo Post. Even Prompto noticed that the usual cheerful "kwehs" were absent, replaced by agitated shuffling and occasional distressed calls.
They headed directly to the stables, where Wiz was stepping out with a concerned frown creasing his weathered face. His shoulders were hunched with worry, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by evident anxiety.
"Hey, is everything okay?" Prompto called out, quickening his pace to reach the older man first.
Wiz let out a heavy breath, shaking his head slowly. "We can't permit our birds to leave the post. Not while a Deadeye's apparently still about. He's an uncommonly ferocious behemoth that's taken to prowlin' these parts of late. His scent makes our birds nervous, an' to prevent accidents an' tragedies, we have no choice but to suspend rentals."
Prompto's face fell, his earlier excitement about introducing Rachel to the chocobos replaced by disappointment and concern. He glanced back at his friends, then turned to Wiz with renewed determination.
"What if we can get rid of it?" he suggested, squaring his shoulders.
Wiz's eyebrows rose, surprise and hope briefly lighting his weathered features before caution reasserted itself. "If you could bring the beast down, I'd really appreciate it, but knowin' the danger, I wouldn't blame ya for sayin' no."
Noctis stepped forward. "No problem, we'll take care of that," he said with casual confidence.
Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio nodded in agreement, their expressions resolute. Rachel frowned, not knowing what a behemoth was but didn't say anything yet about it. She could sense the tension in the men's postures, the way they exchanged meaningful glances that spoke of danger and battle.
"You folks sure about this?" Wiz asked, his voice betraying a mixture of hope and concern. "Deadeye ain't your ordinary behemoth. Lost one of his eyes in a territorial dispute some years back. Made him meaner than most."
Gladio crossed his massive arms over his chest, a confident smirk playing at his lips. "We can handle it," he assured Wiz. "We've dealt with worse."
Rachel studied Wiz's worried expression, then turned to Noctis with a questioning look. "What exactly is a behemoth?" she asked quietly, keeping her voice low so only he could hear.
Noctis's eyes met hers, a flicker of concern passing through them before he masked it with his usual nonchalance. "Big monster," he explained simply. "Really big. Sharp claws, nasty temper."
"Stands about fifteen feet tall at the shoulder," Gladio added, having overheard their exchange. "Weighs a couple tons, can tear through solid steel with those claws. And they're fast—faster than something that size has any right to be."
Rachel's eyes widened slightly as she processed this information. The men were proposing to hunt a creature that sounded more like a walking natural disaster than an animal.
"I'm coming with you," she said firmly, her decision made before she'd even fully processed the implications.
Noctis immediately shook his head. "No way. It's too dangerous."
"I can help," Rachel insisted, her voice quiet but determined. "My powers have returned. I'm fully rested."
Ignis adjusted his glasses, his analytical mind already weighing the risks and benefits. "Her abilities might prove useful," he admitted reluctantly. "Particularly given the nature of the beast."
"Or she could get hurt," Noctis countered, the tension in his voice betraying his concern. "We don't even know if her powers would work on something like Deadeye."
Rachel folded her arms across her chest, her blue eyes flashing with determination. "I'm coming," she said stubbornly, her tone making it clear this wasn't a request. "And that's final."
"Rachel." Noctis's voice dropped to a warning rumble, his concern evident in the tension across his shoulders.
She met his gaze unflinchingly, refusing to back down. "Noctis." Her tone matched his exactly, a perfect mirror of his warning.
The standoff stretched between them, neither willing to yield. The others watched with varying expressions—Gladio's amused respect, Ignis's analytical assessment, and Prompto's growing grin.
"Oh yeah, she is coming," Prompto declared, rocking back on his heels. "When she gets that look, there's no stopping her."
Wiz looked between them, sensing the resolution of the matter in Prompto's casual certainty and Rachel's unwavering stance. With a slight shrug, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a well-worn map of the area.
"If you're all set on huntin' Deadeye, you'll need to know where to look," he said, spreading the map on a nearby barrel. He produced a stubby pencil and drew a circle around an area to the northwest of the post. "Been spotted most often in these parts. There's an old abandoned factory building where he seems to have made his lair. Careful though—the whole area's thick with fog most mornings."
Rachel stepped forward to study the map, deliberately positioning herself beside Noctis. The message was clear—she was part of this hunt whether he liked it or not.
Noctis's jaw tightened as he looked at the map one final time, memorizing the route before nodding to Wiz. "We'll take care of it," he said with quiet determination.
They gathered their supplies quickly—potions, weapons, a few energy bars that Ignis insisted they take "just in case." Within twenty minutes, they were ready to depart, standing at the edge of the Chocobo Post where the manicured grounds gave way to wild forest.
"Ready?" Gladio asked, his massive sword already materialized and resting casually on his shoulder.
"As we'll ever be," Prompto replied, checking his pistol with practiced movements.
Blaze took to the air with a powerful thrust of his wings, soaring ahead as if scouting their path. The golden eagle circled once above them before flying toward the northwest, exactly the direction Wiz had indicated on the map.
As they stepped into the forest, the atmosphere changed immediately. The cheerful sounds of the Chocobo Post faded behind them, replaced by the hushed whispers of wind through leaves and the occasional call of wildlife. Shafts of sunlight penetrated the canopy in places, creating dappled patterns on the forest floor, while other areas remained in deep shadow.
Noctis fell into step beside Rachel, his expression still tight with concern. The others walked slightly ahead, giving them a semblance of privacy.
"When we get close," he said in a low voice, "I need you to stay back. Let us handle the actual fighting."
Rachel kept her eyes forward, watching the path ahead as they navigated between ancient trees. "I can help," she replied, her voice equally quiet but edged with determination.
"Rachel." There was an undercurrent of authority in his tone now—not the voice of her lover, but of a king who expected to be obeyed. "In danger, you move back. I mean it."
She didn't answer but let out a soft sigh that spoke volumes. Noctis knew that sound—it wasn't agreement, merely acknowledgment that she'd heard him. Whether she would actually follow his direction remained to be seen.
They walked in silence after that, the tension between them palpable. Ahead, Ignis led the way, his keen eyes scanning the forest for signs of their quarry. Gladio moved with surprising grace for a man his size, each step deliberate and silent despite the sword he carried. Prompto's usual chatter had subsided, replaced by alert watchfulness as his hand hovered near his holstered pistol.
The forest grew denser as they continued, the underbrush thicker and the canopy more complete. Fog began to appear in patches, clinging to the ground in ghostly wisps that curled around their ankles. The air grew cooler and damper, carrying a musty scent that spoke of decay and age.
Minutes stretched into nearly an hour of cautious progress through the increasingly foggy terrain. The visibility had dropped dramatically, limiting their sight to perhaps twenty feet ahead in any direction. Blaze's occasional calls from above were their reassurance that they remained on the correct path.
Then, without warning, the trees opened up to reveal their destination. The abandoned factory loomed before them, a massive concrete structure reclaimed by nature. Vines climbed its weathered walls, and sections of the roof had collapsed inward. Fog swirled around its base, giving the building an ethereal, almost otherworldly quality.
"We're here," Ignis said quietly, coming to a stop at the edge of the clearing.
Rachel felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cool air. There was something ominous about this place—a heaviness that pressed against her senses. She glanced at Noctis, wondering if he felt it too, but his expression revealed nothing beyond focused determination.
Blaze descended from the sky, landing on a broken section of wall nearby. The eagle's posture was alert, his golden eyes fixed on the dark opening that had once been the factory's main entrance. His head swiveled toward them, and he let out a soft, warning cry.
"He's in there," Rachel translated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Blaze can see him."
Gladio nodded, his expression grim. "Let's do this."
They moved forward as a group, weapons materializing in flashes of blue light. Noctis's Engine Blade gleamed in his hand, while Prompto checked his pistol one final time. Ignis twirled his daggers with practiced ease, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the building before them.
The interior of the factory was a study in contrasts—patches of sunlight streaming through holes in the roof illuminated dust motes dancing in the air, while other sections remained in impenetrable shadow. The fog had penetrated the building as well, creating an eerie, dreamlike quality to their surroundings.
"Keep your eyes open," Gladio murmured, his deep voice barely carrying despite the cavernous space. "Behemoths are ambush predators."
They moved deeper into the factory, navigating around collapsed machinery and fallen support beams. The space opened into what had once been the main production floor, now a vast area of concrete broken by islands of debris and overgrown with vegetation that had forced its way through cracks in the floor.
A low, rumbling growl echoed through the chamber, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The sound vibrated in their chests, primal and threatening.
"There," Ignis whispered, pointing toward a shadowed corner where two pinpoints of light—one amber, one milky white—gleamed in the darkness.
Deadeye.
The behemoth emerged from the shadows with deliberate slowness, each massive paw placed with calculated precision. Even in the dim light, the scar that ran across its blind eye was clearly visible—a jagged, pale line that gave the creature its name. Its purple-gray hide was marked with other battle scars, testament to a lifetime of violence and survival.
Standing at its full height, Deadeye towered over them, easily fifteen feet tall as Gladio had described. Muscles rippled beneath its thick hide as it lowered its massive head, jaws parting to reveal rows of gleaming teeth. The behemoth's good eye fixed on them with predatory intelligence, assessing, calculating.
"Spread out," Noctis commanded, his voice low but carrying the undeniable authority of royalty. "Ignis, Gladio—flank left. Prompto with me on the right."
The men moved immediately, falling into the familiar pattern of countless battles fought together. Rachel remained where she was, her eyes never leaving the massive creature before them. She could feel its life force—ancient and powerful, a being of pure instinct and survival.
Noctis glanced back at her, his expression a clear reminder of his earlier words: In danger, you move back.
Rachel watched the men move, her brow creased with worry. As they spread out in practiced formation, she felt a strange tightness in her chest—not just fear for their safety, but something deeper. A connection. She studied Deadeye more closely, looking beyond the massive claws and terrifying teeth to something fundamental in the creature's being.
Pain. She could feel it radiating from the behemoth like heat from a flame. Not just physical pain from old battle wounds, but a deeper anguish—the suffering of a creature driven from its natural territory, hunted, feared. The behemoth wasn't attacking out of malice but from fear, from the primal instinct to protect itself in a world that had become increasingly hostile.
The battle erupted in a blur of movement and flashing steel. Noctis warped in a streak of blue light, his Engine Blade slicing across Deadeye's flank before he disappeared again. Prompto's gunshots echoed through the cavernous space, bullets striking the behemoth's thick hide. From the left, Gladio charged with his massive sword while Ignis darted between them, daggers glinting as he sought vulnerable points.
Deadeye roared, the sound shaking dust from the rafters. One massive paw swiped at Gladio, who barely brought his sword up in time to block. The impact sent him skidding backward, boots scraping across concrete. The behemoth pivoted with surprising speed, its good eye tracking Noctis as he materialized for another strike.
Rachel stood frozen, her heart racing as she watched the men she had come to care for risk their lives. This wasn't right. She could feel Deadeye's pain and fear intensifying with each blow, his rage building not from hatred but from desperation.
A soft call drew her attention upward. Blaze had landed on a broken beam above her, his golden feathers catching the dim light. The eagle's head tilted as he regarded her, another soft call emanating from his throat. Rachel understood immediately—not words, but meaning, clear as if he'd spoken aloud: You do what you feel is right.
Her gaze returned to the battle. Noctis narrowly avoided a vicious bite, rolling away just as Deadeye's massive jaws snapped shut where he had been moments before. Prompto was reloading, his back pressed against a pillar for cover. Ignis shouted something to Gladio, who nodded grimly before charging again.
Rachel took a deep breath, feeling something settle within her. A certainty. A purpose.
She moved toward the factory's entrance, determination hardening her features. At the threshold, she turned back to face the battle, brought her fingers to her lips, and released a piercing whistle that cut through the cacophony of combat.
The effect was immediate. Deadeye's massive head swung toward her, his good eye fixing on her with predatory focus. The behemoth let out a low growl, momentarily forgetting the men who had been attacking him.
"Rachel!" Noctis shouted, horror etching his features as he realized what she had done. "No!"
But Rachel was already moving, darting through the factory entrance and into the foggy clearing beyond. Behind her, she could hear the thunderous footfalls of the behemoth as it gave chase, the sound of concrete cracking under its massive weight.
Noctis tried to warp after her, but Deadeye's tail caught him mid-trajectory, sending him crashing into a pile of rubble. "Rachel!" he screamed again, struggling to his feet as panic flooded through him.
Outside, Rachel ran several yards into the clearing before turning to face the approaching behemoth. Her heart hammered in her chest, but she stood her ground, blue eyes fixed on the massive creature bearing down on her.
Deadeye burst through the factory entrance, debris flying as his massive form demolished what remained of the doorway. He charged toward Rachel with frightening speed, his jaws open wide enough to swallow her whole.
From the ruined doorway, Noctis emerged with his friends close behind. Time seemed to slow as he saw Rachel standing before the charging behemoth, making no move to run or defend herself. "RACHEL!" he screamed, his voice raw with terror as he summoned his Engine Blade, preparing to warp to her side.
But just as Deadeye reached Rachel, when it seemed certain his massive jaws would close around her, something extraordinary happened. The behemoth skidded to a halt, sending up clouds of dust and fog around them. His massive head lowered, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, taking in her scent.
The tension in the clearing was palpable.
Deadeye's good eye studied Rachel with newfound interest. The rage that had fueled his attack moments before seemed to drain away, replaced by curiosity. He sniffed again, his hot breath stirring her blonde hair.
Rachel remained perfectly still, allowing the massive creature to investigate her. She understood what was happening—the behemoth was sensing what all animals seemed to detect in her presence, that innate connection to the natural world that transcended ordinary human limitations.
"It's okay," she whispered, slowly raising her hand toward the beast's scarred face. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Deadeye flinched slightly at her movement but didn't retreat. Instead, he lowered his head further, bringing his good eye level with her face.
With careful movements, Rachel placed her palm against the rough, scarred flesh around Deadeye's blind eye. The behemoth tensed but remained still, something like trust forming between them. A soft glow emanated from her fingertips, spreading across the old wound in gentle waves of light. The behemoth let out a low rumble—not threatening, but something closer to relief.
"I can feel your pain," she whispered, focusing her energy on the damaged tissue. "So much suffering for so long."
The light intensified briefly, and Deadeye's massive head dipped lower, leaning into her touch. The tension in his powerful muscles began to ease as the healing energy soothed years of chronic pain. Though Rachel couldn't restore the lost sight—the injury was far too old for that—she could mend the lingering damage that had caused him such agony.
When she finally withdrew her hand, Deadeye blinked his good eye slowly, as if waking from a dream. He shook his massive head, seemingly disoriented by the sudden absence of pain that had been his constant companion for so many years.
Rachel stepped back slightly, maintaining eye contact with the behemoth. "You need to find a new place," she said softly, her voice barely audible to the men watching in stunned silence. "Somewhere far from humans, where you can live in peace. This isn't your home anymore."
The behemoth regarded her with his single amber eye, intelligence evident in his gaze. He let out a low rumble, and Rachel nodded as if they were having a conversation only they could understand.
"Yes," she continued. "To the mountains. There's space there, and prey, and no humans to hunt you."
Deadeye's massive head dipped once, almost like a bow of acknowledgment. He turned toward the east, where distant peaks rose above the forest canopy. With surprising grace for a creature of his size, he began to move away, each step deliberate and unhurried. At the edge of the clearing, he paused, looking back at Rachel one final time before disappearing into the mist-shrouded forest.
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves in the morning breeze. Rachel stood motionless, watching the spot where Deadeye had vanished, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over her.
The men approached slowly, their weapons dismissed in flashes of blue light. Prompto reached her first, his expression a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"You keep amazing us," he whispered, shaking his head slightly. "Every single time."
Rachel smiled lightly, though the effort of healing had left her somewhat drained. Before she could respond, Noctis was beside her, his face tight with conflicting emotions—relief, concern, and hint of anger.
He grabbed Rachel's arms, his grip firm as he looked into her eyes. "I thought we agreed you would let me know when you go face to face with a monster."
Rachel met his gaze steadily, refusing to back down. "I knew what I was doing," she replied, her tone calm but resolute.
"You could've died."
"So could you," Rachel countered, her blue eyes flashing with intensity.
Prompto stepped forward, pointing emphatically between Noctis and Rachel. "No fighting! Let's go," he interjected, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by firm insistence. "We've got chocobos waiting for us, remember? And you two have a wedding to plan." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, deliberately lightening the mood.
Noctis hesitated, his expression softening as he looked at Rachel. The tension between them dissolved slightly, replaced by a shared understanding that this particular argument would remain unresolved for now.
"Fine," he conceded finally, releasing her arms. "But we're talking about this later."
Rachel nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Later," she agreed.
Prompto clapped his hands together, clearly eager to move on from the tense moment. "Great! Now that that's settled, let's go see those chocobos!" He practically bounced with excitement, already turning toward the path that led back to the Chocobo Post.
Rachel watched with amusement as Prompto practically skipped down the path, his enthusiasm contagious.
Gladio shook his head with a chuckle, following at a more measured pace.
Ignis adjusted his glasses, his expression thoughtful as he watched Prompto's retreating form. "I believe we all could use a more pleasant diversion after that encounter," he remarked, falling into step beside Gladio.
Rachel and Noctis remained behind for a moment, the silence between them comfortable despite their earlier disagreement. Noctis let out a breath, the tension visibly draining from his shoulders as he looked back at Rachel. Her lips formed a small pout, her blue eyes meeting his with a mixture of defiance and affection.
"You're impossible," he said, but there was no real anger in his voice. Instead, his hand found hers, fingers intertwining with familiar ease.
Rachel's pout softened into a smile. "But you love me anyway."
Noctis couldn't help but return her smile, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I do. But next time, give me a warning first? I'd rather not have a heart attack before I'm twenty-five."
A small laugh escaped Rachel's lips, the sound lightening the atmosphere between them. "I'll try," she promised.
They began walking together, following the path toward the Chocobo Post. When the group reached back to the Chocobo Post, Wiz stood outside the main stable. The older man looked up as they approached, a relieved smile spreading across his weathered face.
"Did you folks take care of that behemoth problem?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his belt.
"He won't be bothering the chocobos anymore," Rachel replied.
Wiz's weathered face split into a wide grin. "Well then, seems I owe you a proper introduction to our birds. They should be calmer now that Deadeye's gone. Would you like to meet them?"
"Yes! Come on, Rach!" Prompto exclaimed, his excitement barely contained as he moved over and placed his arm around Rachel's shoulder. Without waiting for a response, he gently guided her toward the stables, practically bouncing with each step.
Noctis let out a soft chuckle and shook his head at his friend's enthusiasm before he, Gladio, and Ignis followed at a more measured pace.
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
Aranea Highwind observed the aftermath of the battle.
"Well, well," she murmured to herself, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Her keen eyes had caught every detail of what happened just minutes ago—the transformation of the eagle into a phoenix, the vines erupting from solid concrete to crush Loqi's prized magitek armor, and most importantly, the blonde woman at the center of it all. Even from this distance, the resemblance to Lunafreya was unmistakable. This could only be Flora Nox Fleuret.
Aranea moved through the battlefield with the grace of a predator, pausing only when she reached the massive vines still protruding from the fractured concrete.
She ran her gloved hand along one of the thick, verdant tendrils, feeling the life pulsing within it. The plant was impossibly vibrant, as if it had been growing for years rather than minutes.
"Impressive," she murmured, genuinely awed by the display of raw power.
Aranea withdrew her hand from the vine and stepped back, glancing around to ensure she was alone. Satisfied, she pulled out her secure communicator and initiated a call to Ravus. Within moments, his face appeared on the small screen, his heterochromatic eyes immediately alert.
"Report," he said, his voice clipped and formal despite being alone in what appeared to be his private quarters.
Aranea couldn't help the smirk that spread across her face. "I got to admit; I'm impressed with your baby sister. She sure knows how to garden a place. I like her already." She angled the communicator to show him the massive vines still wrapped around the crushed remains of Loqi's magitek armor, then brought the camera back to her face.
Ravus's stoic expression faltered for a moment, something almost like pride flickering in his eyes before being quickly suppressed.
"Although, it seems it was the first time in a long time she used this kind of power," Aranea continued, her voice growing more serious. "From what I saw."
Concern immediately replaced Ravus's careful neutrality. "Is she okay?" he asked, unable to fully mask the worry in his tone.
"Well, she's apparently exhausted. It drained her," Aranea reported, watching as Ravus's jaw tightened. "Want me to continue watching her? She seems to be in good hands with the new King."
"Keep looking out for her," Ravus ordered without hesitation.
Aranea had known he would say that. It was written all over his face, in the tension around his eyes and the slight furrow of his brow. She softened her expression, allowing a more personal tone to enter her voice. "Don't worry, baby, it's alright."
Ravus sighed. "Alright. Just don't go and flirt around, focus on Flora."
"I see you want me all to yourself," Aranea replied with a widening smirk. "That's fine, I like flirting with you anyway. I'll be in touch." She ended the call before he could respond, knowing it would irritate him just enough to be amusing.
Meanwhile, Rachel, Noctis, Cor, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto had already reached the Regalia. Rachel sat in the backseat, her head resting against the cool leather as she fought against the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her. Through the open door, she could hear the men speaking in hushed tones outside the car.
"We need to get her somewhere safe to recover," Noctis was saying, his voice tight with concern. He stood with his back to the car, but his posture betrayed his anxiety, shoulders tense and hands clenched at his sides.
Ignis adjusted his glasses, his analytical mind already calculating distances and risks. "Lestallum might be the best option," he suggested. "It's populous enough that we can blend in, and Iris will be there by now." His tone was measured, practical, but his eyes betrayed his concern as they flickered toward Rachel's slumped form.
"Plus, they've got actual beds," Prompto added, glancing worriedly toward the car where Rachel sat. "And she definitely needs rest."
Gladio crossed his massive arms, his expression somber. "It's a long drive to Lestallum. We should consider stopping at a haven for the night. It won't be safe for her to travel at night."
Cor had been standing slightly apart, his weathered face revealing nothing of his thoughts as he listened to the younger men discuss their plans. Now he stepped forward, his posture straight and commanding despite the battle they'd just endured.
"There's the Coernix station on the way," he told them, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "Drive there, fill the Regalia, buy supplies for the long journey." His gaze swept over each of them, assessing their condition with the practiced eye of a veteran warrior.
Noctis nodded, grateful for the marshal's guidance. Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto murmured their agreement, the plan settling into place with the efficiency of a group accustomed to crisis.
"Where will you go now?" Noctis asked Cor.
Cor's expression softened almost imperceptibly as he looked at the young king. "There are still things to do around here, but I'll be fine." A hint of a smile touched his usually stern lips. "I'll see you boys soon." His gaze shifted to Rachel, and something like respect flickered in his eyes. "Go. Get Lady Flora away from this area."
The finality in his tone brooked no argument. With quick nods of acknowledgment, the four men prepared to depart. Ignis slid into the driver's seat while Gladio took his place in the passenger side. Noctis and Prompto positioned themselves on either side of Rachel in the back, providing support should she need it during the journey.
As the Regalia's engine purred to life, Cor stepped back, watching them with an unreadable expression. Above, Blaze circled once before flying ahead, as if scouting their path.
Ignis eased the Regalia onto the road, the world outside gliding past in blurred pastel as dusk crept in. For the first few miles, the car was cocooned in a tranquil hush, the only sounds the low hum of the engine, the whisper of tires on blacktop, and Rachel's quiet, even breathing as she nestled into Noctis's side. She'd drifted almost instantly, a sleep as profound and consuming as the ocean, all of her tension unspooled and left behind in the gravel of the imperial base.
Noctis sat with his arm draped around her, his own body held taut as if he might will his energy into her by proximity alone. Every few minutes, he'd glance down, watching the rise and fall of her chest, then touch her hair or cheek, confirming—again and again—that she was still with them, still breathing, still herself.
"Hey, how long to the station, Iggy?" Prompto asked, voice pitched low.
"About an hour, give or take," Ignis answered, gaze never leaving the ribbon of asphalt ahead.
"She gonna be okay?" Prompto whispered, the question meant for Noctis but drifting toward the sleeping girl as well.
"She's tough," Noctis murmured. "She just needs rest."
Gladio let out a soft scoff, but there was gentleness in the sound. "Didn't see that coming. The thing with the vines. Thought the coeurls were wild, but that was..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Yeah," Noctis said, and let it hang there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was slowly sunset when they reached the Coernix station. The sky had transformed into a canvas of orange and purple hues, casting long shadows across the weathered asphalt. The Regalia rolled to a gentle stop beside one of the fuel pumps, its engine settling into silence after hours on the road.
"I'll fill up the tank," Ignis announced, already reaching for his door handle. He glanced toward the small convenience store with a calculating eye. "Prompto, would you mind grabbing some supplies? We'll need provisions for tomorrow."
"I'm on it!" Prompto replied with characteristic enthusiasm, despite the weariness evident in the slight drop of his shoulders. He hopped out of the car, stretching his arms over his head before jogging toward the store.
As both men departed, Gladio shifted in the front passenger seat, turning to look into the backseat where Noctis sat with Rachel still nestled against him. Her head rested on his shoulder, her blonde hair catching the last golden rays of sunlight filtering through the car window.
"How is she?" Gladio asked, his gruff voice softening with genuine concern as he studied Rachel's pale face.
Noctis looked down at her, his eyes tracing the contours of her features with tender scrutiny. The tight knot of worry that had been lodged in his chest since the imperial base loosened slightly as he noted the faint flush of color returning to her cheeks.
"She looks a bit better," he answered, his voice low to avoid disturbing her. His fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, the gesture unconscious and intimate.
Outside, Ignis had begun filling the Regalia's tank. He leaned down, peering through the open window while the fuel pump hummed steadily beside him. His sharp eyes assessed Rachel's condition with the same precision he applied to everything.
"Her energy slowly but surely restoring her," he observed, his accent crisping the words. The strategist's expression grew thoughtful as he considered what they'd witnessed at the imperial base. "Knowing Rachel, she may try using her powers on healing or such on helping us or an animal if in danger. Best to keep an eye on her so she won't do it for today."
Noctis nodded in agreement, his protective instincts flaring at the thought of Rachel pushing herself too soon. "Yeah," he said quietly, "I'll make sure she doesn't."
Inside the convenience store, Prompto wandered through the narrow aisles, gathering essentials with practiced efficiency. Energy drinks, cup noodles (Gladio's favorite), a few protein bars, and some bottled water filled his arms as he made his way to the front counter. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow that made the small store seem even more utilitarian.
"Is this everything?" the cashier asked, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and weathered hands.
"Yeah, and the gas for pump three," Prompto replied, then quickly added, "Actually, do you have anything for fever? My friend's not feeling too well."
The cashier's expression softened with sympathy. "Poor thing." She turned to the shelves behind her, scanning the various medications before selecting a small bottle. "This should help bring down a fever and ease any discomfort."
"Perfect, thanks!" Prompto added it to his purchases, paying with the gil Ignis had given him.
With bags in hand, he pushed through the glass door and stepped back into the evening air. The sky had deepened to rich purples and oranges, the sun a half-disk sinking toward the horizon. As he approached the Regalia, he noticed movement in the backseat.
Rachel was stirring, her blue eyes fluttering open as she shifted against Noctis's shoulder. Confusion clouded her features for a moment before recognition set in.
"Where are we?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, still heavy with exhaustion.
Noctis's hand moved to her shoulder, steadying her as she tried to sit up. "We stopped at a gas station," he explained gently. "How are you feeling?"
Gladio stepped out of the car, stretching his massive frame before moving to help Prompto with the bags. Together, they carried the supplies to the trunk, organizing them with the practiced efficiency of men accustomed to life on the road.
"Hey, you're awake!" Prompto called cheerfully, leaning down to peer into the backseat. Despite his casual tone, concern flickered in his eyes as he studied Rachel's pale face. "How're you feeling now?"
"A little better," she replied softly, offering him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The effort of sitting up straight seemed to tax her considerably, but she was determined not to show it.
Prompto reached into one of the bags and pulled out the medicine bottle. "Here," he said, passing it to Noctis. "Got this for Rachel. For fever and stuff. You know, just in case. Sometimes you can never know."
"Thanks, buddy," Noctis said, genuine gratitude warming his voice as he accepted the bottle. He turned the medication in his hands, reading the label carefully before tucking it into his jacket pocket.
Ignis finished with the fuel, his observant gaze immediately assessing Rachel's condition. "I believe we're ready to head out," he announced. "There should be a safe place we can rest for the night not far from here."
As they prepared to resume their journey, Prompto's attention was caught by something on the wall of the convenience store. His eyes widened, and he let out an excited gasp, pointing enthusiastically at a colorful poster.
"Guys! Look!" he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels. "The Chocobo Post! I forgot it was in this area!" The poster showed a massive yellow bird with a rider, advertising Wiz Chocobo Post with bright, cheerful lettering.
"It's only about half an hour from here," Prompto continued, his excitement building with each word. "We could go there! They have actual cabins where Rachel can rest properly, plus—" his grin widened impossibly further "—we can finally show her the chocobos!"
The suggestion hung in the air, Prompto's enthusiasm so infectious that even Ignis seemed to consider it with a thoughtful tilt of his head.
Rachel, remembering the stories the men had shared about the magnificent birds, found herself smiling genuinely for the first time since waking.
"Could we go there?" she asked softly, looking up at Noctis. The prospect of seeing something wonderful rather than dangerous, something that brought joy instead of fear, suddenly seemed incredibly appealing.
Prompto's face erupted in a grin so wide it threatened to split his face in two. He pumped his fist in the air, not even waiting for official confirmation. "Yes! Chocobo time!"
Ignis exchanged an amused glance with Gladio and Noctis. After a moment, he adjusted his glasses with a small smile. "I suppose the Chocobo Post would indeed provide adequate accommodations for the night."
Noctis looked down at Rachel, studying her face. The slight spark of interest in her eyes at the mention of chocobos seemed to make his decision for him. "Alright," he agreed, his expression softening. "To the Chocobo Post it is."
Prompto got back into the backseat to sit with Rachel and Noctis, his energy seemingly inexhaustible despite the long day. Gladio settled into the passenger seat while Ignis took his customary position behind the wheel. The Regalia's engine purred to life, and they pulled away from the Coernix station, heading toward the Chocobo Post.
Despite her exhaustion, Rachel felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of seeing the chocobos she'd heard so much about. The gentle vibration of the car and Noctis's steady presence beside her created a comforting cocoon, allowing her to relax slightly for the first time since the imperial base.
Prompto turned sideways in his seat, practically bouncing with barely contained energy. His eyes lit up with mischievous delight as a thought clearly occurred to him.
"Hey Rachel," he said, his voice carrying that particular tone that immediately made Noctis tense beside her. "Want to hear a funny story? It's about Noct."
Noctis glanced sharply at his friend, recognizing the dangerous gleam in Prompto's eyes. "Whatever it is, it's probably not that interesting," he said quickly, a warning edge to his voice.
Rachel looked between the two friends, intrigued by Noctis's obvious discomfort. Despite her fatigue, she found herself curious. "I'd like to hear it," she replied softly.
Prompto's grin widened impossibly as he shot a triumphant look at Noctis. "Ignis told me and Gladio this one," he began, settling into storytelling mode. "When they were younger, Noct here spent three entire hours trying to get one of the chocobos to let him pet it."
In the front seat, Ignis's lips quirked upward at the memory, though his eyes remained fixed on the darkening road ahead. Gladio turned slightly, an amused rumble emanating from his chest.
"He chased after it all over the royal stables," Prompto continued with obvious delight, "and the poor bird kept running away because—"
Noctis moved with speed, reaching around Rachel to clamp his hand firmly over Prompto's mouth. "Shut up," he muttered, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
Rachel couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her lips at Noctis's mortified expression. Ignis's reflection in the rearview mirror showed a rare, full smile, while Gladio's shoulders shook with silent laughter.
"I believe Noct was ten years old at the time," Ignis added helpfully from the driver's seat, ignoring Noctis's betrayed glare. "And the chocobo in question was quite adamant about maintaining its personal space."
Noctis released Prompto with a warning look, slumping back into his seat with a groan. "It wasn't three hours," he muttered defensively. "And that bird had it out for me from the start."
"It was definitely three hours," Gladio confirmed, turning further in his seat to join the conversation. "According also to Cor. And the reason it kept running away was because you were coming at it with a handful of gysahl greens you'd been carrying in your pocket for two days. They were all wilted and gross."
Rachel's smile widened at this additional detail, imagining a young Noctis determinedly pursuing a reluctant chocobo with his stale offering. The mental image was both endearing and amusing.
"The poor creature was simply exercising good judgment," Ignis remarked dryly. "Though I must say, your persistence was admirable, even then."
Noctis crossed his arms over his chest, trying to maintain his dignity despite the flush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, well, I got to pet it eventually," he pointed out.
"Only because it fell asleep and you snuck up on it," Prompto countered, having successfully dodged Noctis's attempt to silence him again. "And then it woke up and—"
"Okay, that's enough of that story," Noctis interrupted hastily, shooting Prompto a look that promised retribution later.
Rachel leaned against Noctis, her laughter softening to a warm smile. "I think it's sweet," she said quietly, reaching for his hand. "That you cared so much about petting the chocobo."
Her sincere words seemed to defuse some of Noctis's embarrassment. His expression softened as his fingers intertwined with hers, though he still shot Prompto a warning glance.
"Just wait until you meet them," Prompto said, his excitement bubbling over once more. "They're the absolute best. So fluffy and friendly—well, to most people," he added with a teasing glance at Noctis.
The Regalia's headlights cut through the gathering darkness, illuminating the road that would lead them to their temporary sanctuary. Above, Blaze soared silently, his golden feathers barely visible against the twilight sky, keeping watchful guard over the travelers below.
The landscape outside the window changed gradually, transitioning from open plains to more wooded areas. Occasionally, they would pass small clusters of lights in the distance—outposts or havens where travelers could find safety from the daemons that emerged after dark.
"Almost there," Prompto announced excitedly as they turned onto a smaller road. A wooden sign bearing a chocobo silhouette indicated they were on the right path.
The Chocobo Post appeared around the next bend—a collection of rustic wooden structures nestled in a clearing, illuminated by warm yellow lights that cast a welcoming glow in the deepening twilight. Several large pens could be seen, though the chocobos themselves appeared to have been brought inside for the night.
Ignis pulled the Regalia into a designated parking area, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as they came to a stop. "We've arrived," he announced, turning off the engine.
"Finally!" Prompto was out of the car almost before it had fully stopped, stretching his arms overhead before bouncing on his toes with barely contained excitement.
Noctis turned to Rachel, his blue eyes searching her face. "Think you can walk?" he asked quietly.
Rachel nodded, determined to make it on her own power. "Yes, I'm feeling stronger." It wasn't entirely true—exhaustion still weighed heavily on her limbs—but she refused to be carried again.
Noctis seemed to sense her determination and simply offered his arm for support as she slid out of the car. Her legs trembled slightly as she stood, but she managed to remain upright, leaning on Noctis more than she would have liked.
The air at the Chocobo Post smelled of hay, feed, and the distinct musky-sweet scent of the birds themselves. From one of the larger barns came soft 'kweh' sounds—the chocobos settling in for the night.
"Welcome to the Chocobo Post!" called a weathered voice. A middle-aged man with a kind face and well-worn clothes approached them, wiping his hands on a rag. "Name's Wiz. What brings you folks out this way so close to nightfall?"
"We're looking for accommodations for the night," Ignis explained, stepping forward. "And perhaps the chance to see your chocobos in the morning."
Wiz's eyes moved over the group, lingering briefly on Rachel's pale face and the protective way Noctis stood beside her. Understanding flickered in his expression. "Well, considering you all five in the group, I can give you two cabins next to each other so it will be comfier. Nothing fancy, mind you, but it's clean and safe."
"That's perfect," Gladio replied, already moving to retrieve their bags from the trunk.
"And the chocobos?" Prompto asked eagerly, practically vibrating with anticipation.
Wiz chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "They're all tucked in for the night, but you're welcome to visit them first thing tomorrow. Got some fine birds here—friendly ones, too. They love visitors."
Prompto's face lit up as if Wiz had just promised him the world. He turned to Rachel, eyes shining. "You're gonna love them! They're the best!"
Rachel couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "I'm looking forward to it," she said.
Wiz led them along a gravel path that wound between tall pines, their footsteps crunching softly in the evening quiet. Rachel leaned heavily against Noctis, her strength gradually returning but still far from restored. Despite her exhaustion, she took in the peaceful surroundings with quiet appreciation—the soft glow of lanterns hanging from wooden posts, the distant calls of night birds, the earthy scents of pine and hay mingling in the cool air.
"Here we are," Wiz announced, stopping before two adjacent cabins nestled beneath the spreading branches of an ancient oak. "Best accommodations I've got to offer."
The cabins were rustic but charming, with wooden walls weathered to a silvery-gray and small covered porches. Warm light spilled from the windows, casting rectangular patches of gold on the packed earth outside. Someone had already been by to turn on the lamps inside, a thoughtful touch that didn't go unnoticed by the weary travelers.
Wiz climbed the three steps to the first cabin's porch and pushed open the door, gesturing for them to follow. Inside, the space was simple but inviting—a main room with comfortable-looking furniture, a small kitchenette along one wall, and two doors that presumably led to a bedroom and bathroom. The warm glow of table lamps bathed everything in soft light, making the polished wood floors gleam.
"Both cabins are identical," Wiz explained, moving to open a door that revealed a small but clean bathroom. "Shower's got hot water, beds are comfortable enough. Kitchenette's stocked with the basics if you want to make coffee or tea." He gestured to another door. "Bedroom's through there—two beds in each cabin."
Ignis nodded appreciatively, his practiced eye noting the cleanliness and practical layout. "This will suit our needs perfectly. Thank you."
Wiz reached into his pocket and produced two brass keys, which he handed to Ignis. "These'll get you in and out. Lock up if you head out—not that we get much trouble around here, but better safe than sorry."
"Much appreciated," Ignis replied, accepting the keys with a slight bow of his head.
Wiz gave them a friendly nod, already turning toward the door. "Breakfast starts from seven in the main building if you're interested. Otherwise, I'll leave you folks to get settled in. Have a good night."
A chorus of "good night" and "thanks" followed him as he departed, the door closing softly behind him. For a moment, the five of them stood in contemplative silence, the day's events weighing heavily on each of them in different ways.
Gladio was the first to move, dropping his bag onto one of the couches with a weary sigh. "Not bad," he remarked, glancing around the cabin.
Prompto wandered to the window, peering out at the darkened chocobo pens with barely concealed excitement before turning back to the group. His gaze landed on Rachel, who was still leaning against Noctis, and then shifted to the single bedroom door. A mischievous grin spread across his face.
"So," he began, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he pointed between Rachel and Noctis. "You two going to share a cabin all alone tonight?"
Rachel's cheeks flushed pink at the implication, though whether from embarrassment or the memory of their night in Galdin Quay, only she knew. She looked up at Noctis, uncertain how to respond to Prompto's teasing.
Noctis shot his friend an exasperated look, though there was no real heat behind it. "Is that a problem?" he asked, a hint of annoyance coloring his tone as he reached out and took one of the keys from Ignis's outstretched hand.
Prompto held up his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn't diminish. "Nope! No problem at all. Just, you know, making sure we've got the sleeping arrangements sorted out." He winked at Rachel, who ducked her head to hide her deepening blush.
Ignis cleared his throat, shooting Prompto a warning glance. "I believe we're all quite exhausted and could use some rest," he said pointedly, placing a hand on Prompto's shoulder to steer him away from the couple. "Particularly Rachel, after her... exertions today."
Gladio hefted his bag from the couch, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Come on, kids. Let's give the lovebirds some space." He headed for the door, pausing to look back at Noctis and Rachel. "We'll be right next door if you need anything."
"Yeah, anything at all!" Prompto added with an exaggerated wink that earned him a gentle cuff on the back of the head from Gladio.
Ignis paused at the threshold, his expression softening as he regarded Rachel. "Do try to rest," he advised gently. "And perhaps some food, if you feel up to it. There are some provisions in your bag that might help restore your strength."
Rachel nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Ignis."
With final nods and waves, the three men filed out, the door closing behind them with a soft click. Suddenly, the cabin seemed much larger and quieter. Noctis and Rachel stood in the middle of the room, still connected by his arm around her waist.
"You okay?" Noctis asked softly, his eyes searching her face.
Rachel nodded, though the motion lacked conviction. "Just tired," she admitted. "But better than before."
Noctis guided her to one of the couches, helping her sit before dropping their bags nearby. "You should eat something," he said, echoing Ignis's advice as he rummaged through his bag. "I think Prompto bought some of those energy bars you like."
Rachel watched him with a soft smile, touched by his concern. Noctis found what he was looking for and returned to her side, handing her an unwrapped energy bar.
"Thanks," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
He set the medicine bottle Prompto had purchased on the small wooden table in front of them, just in case her exhaustion turned to fever during the night. Rachel glanced at it, touched by their thoughtfulness despite everything else they had to worry about.
With slow, deliberate movements, she reached down to remove her shoes, letting them drop to the floor with a soft thud. The simple act seemed to require more effort than it should, but she felt lighter once her bare feet touched the cool wooden planks.
Rachel placed the energy bar on the table, food forgotten for the moment as a different kind of hunger stirred within her. She reached for Noctis's hand, her fingers sliding between his with familiar ease. When he sat beside her, the cushions dipped under his weight, bringing them closer together.
She leaned toward him, drawn by an invisible thread that had been pulling them together since that first night. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, a whisper of contact that held all the words they were too tired to say.
Noctis responded immediately, his free hand coming up to cradle her face as he deepened the kiss. Despite her exhaustion, Rachel felt warmth spreading through her body, chasing away the bone-deep weariness that had plagued her since the imperial base.
His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone as they parted briefly for air, his eyes searching hers in the soft lamplight. What he found there must have reassured him, because he leaned in again, his kiss more insistent this time.
"I was so worried," he murmured against her lips, the confession slipping out between kisses. "When I saw you collapse after those vines..."
Rachel brushed her fingers through his hair, soothing away the tension she could feel in the set of his shoulders. "I'm okay," she whispered back. "Just need to rest. And I need you."
Noctis leaned back to her lips, kissing her passionately. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her closer until she was practically in his lap. The worry that had been coiled inside him since watching her summon those massive vines began to loosen, replaced by relief and desire in equal measure.
When they finally broke apart, Noctis rested his forehead against Rachel's, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "We should get you to bed," he murmured, though there was reluctance in his tone. "You need actual rest."
Rachel's lips curved into a soft smile as she traced her fingers along his jaw. "I'm starting to feel much better," she said quietly. "Thanks to you."
The admission brought a small smirk to Noctis's face, pride and relief mingling in his expression. He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her skin.
Rachel glanced toward the bathroom door, then back at Noctis. "I think I want to take a shower before bed," she said. Her teeth caught her lower lip for a moment, a hint of shyness in her blue eyes despite their intimacy. "Would you... help me?"
Noctis's eyes darkened with desire, the deep blue intensifying as he looked at her. The memory of their shared shower at Galdin Quay flashed through his mind—her skin slick with water, her body pressed against his. He nodded, not trusting his voice in that moment.
Rachel stood first, her legs steadier now as she moved toward the bathroom. Noctis followed, pausing only to turn the lock on the cabin's front door before joining her. She flipped the light switch, illuminating the small but well-appointed bathroom with its gleaming fixtures and pristine white tiles. The absence of windows made the space intimate, private—a world of their own.
Noctis approached her from behind, his hands finding her waist as she stood before the sink. With gentle movements, he helped her remove her jacket, then her shirt, letting each article drop to the floor. His fingers traced the curve of her spine as he unhooked her bra, his breath warm against her neck. Rachel leaned back against him, eyes closed as he continued undressing her with careful, reverent touches.
When she stood completely bare before him, Noctis quickly shed his own clothes, his eyes never leaving her reflection in the mirror above the sink. They stepped into the shower together, and as the warm water cascaded over them, their lips met in a passionate kiss that spoke of relief, desire, and love.
The steam rose around them, creating a cocoon of warmth and privacy. Noctis' hands slid over her wet skin, trailing his lips down to her neck. Rachel let out a soft sigh of pleasure as she closed her eyes while her own hands explored his shoulders and chest. The water cascaded over them both, washing away the day's tensions as they lost themselves in each other's touch.
When they finally emerged from the shower, their skin flushed from heat and desire, they wrapped themselves in the plush hotel towels. Noctis moved to the bedroom first, crossing to the window to pull the curtain closed, shutting out the night and creating a private sanctuary. Meanwhile, Rachel had gone to the living room to retrieve their bags, carrying them into the bedroom and setting them on the floor.
She knelt beside Noctis' bag, rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for—one of his black t-shirts. With a small smile playing on her lips, she let her towel drop to the floor and pulled the shirt over her head. The soft fabric settled against her skin, the hem reaching only to her thighs.
Noctis watched her with darkening eyes as he took his sweatpants and put them on before sitting down on one of the beds. Rachel looked into her bag before pausing and deciding against whatever she had been searching for. Instead, she moved toward Noctis, completely bare under the shirt that reached only to her thighs.
A mischievous smile played on her lips as she remembered the story Prompto had shared earlier. "So," she began, her voice light and teasing, "three hours chasing a chocobo? That must have been quite the sight."
Noctis groaned and laid down on the bed, his back against the pillow. "Not you too."
Rachel giggled as she let him grab her hand and pull her to the bed. He positioned her on top of him, her legs parted to sit between his. His eyes darkened further at her nakedness beneath his shirt, which had ridden up slightly with her movement.
"Am I ever going to stop hearing about this?" he asked, his hands settling on her hips.
Rachel looked down at him, blonde hair falling around her face like a curtain. "Probably not," she said softly.
Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the teasing atmosphere shifted into something deeper. Noctis's hands moved from her hips to her waist, his thumbs tracing small circles against the fabric of his shirt.
Rachel shifted slightly, her mind drifting to what came next on their journey. The question had been lingering at the edges of her consciousness all day, but the moment never seemed right to ask it. Now, in the quiet intimacy of their cabin, with Noctis beneath her and his hands warm at her waist, she found the courage to voice it.
"Where are we going after the Chocobo Post?" she asked, her voice soft in the stillness of their room. Her fingers traced idle patterns against his chest as she waited for his answer.
Noctis's eyes, which had been dark with desire moments before, shifted to something more thoughtful. He seemed to consider the question carefully, as though the answer held more weight than a simple travel itinerary.
"Lestallum," he replied finally. "We'll stay there for a few days. Iris is waiting for us there, and we could all use some time in a real city." His thumbs continued their gentle circles against her sides. "After that, we continue forward."
Rachel nodded, absorbing his words. Her gaze dropped briefly to his chest before rising again to meet his eyes. "Altissia," she said softly, the word hanging between them like a question and a statement all at once.
The mention of the water-bound city sent a visible ripple through Noctis. His hands stilled on her waist, and something complicated flickered in his eyes—duty, desire, reluctance, determination, all warring for dominance. For several seconds, he said nothing, and the silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken implications.
Altissia meant Luna.
Rachel watched the emotions play across his face, understanding more than he realized. Her own feelings about Altissia were equally complex—fear mingled with a strange sense of homecoming, anxiety about meeting the sister she barely remembered, and concern for what it would mean for her relationship with Noctis.
"Yes," he finally said, his voice low but firm. "Altissia is where we need to go."
Rachel nodded slightly, and let out a breath as she looked at his chest. "What will happen to us?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible even in the stillness of the cabin. "When we reach Altissia... when you see Luna..."
Noctis's hands tightened on her waist, his eyes never leaving hers. "Nothing changes," he said firmly. "I'm not going to marry Luna."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Then, before Rachel could respond, Noctis continued, the words tumbling out in a rush.
"If I'm going to marry anyone, it's going to be you."
Rachel blinked in surprise, her lips parting slightly as she processed his declaration. She had not expected such directness from him—Noctis, who often kept his deepest feelings guarded behind casual remarks and deflective humor.
Noctis felt heat rise to his cheeks as he realized what he'd just blurted out. "I mean..." he stammered, his usual composure momentarily abandoned. "I told father the day you came back to me, that if you will accept me, I want to go back to the original engagement. You and me."
Time seemed to stand still as Rachel absorbed what he was telling her. The original engagement—the childhood promise between two royal houses, broken by her presumed death, and the Queen's death. A promise that had been replaced by the arrangement with Luna, her own sister. Her mind reeled with the implications.
"The treaty is gone," Noctis said, his voice hardening momentarily as he thought of Insomnia's fall. "Niflheim made sure of that. And Luna..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "It was made for the peace, and it's over. Luna understands. She always has. She knows my feelings for you."
Rachel stared at Noctis, her heart hammering in her chest. The weight of his words hung between them, both terrifying and exhilarating. The original engagement—the one made when she was just a baby, before everything fell apart. Before she became someone else entirely. Her mind spun with implications, possibilities, futures that had once been lost now potentially within reach.
"You want to marry me?" she whispered, her voice catching on the final word.
Noctis sat up more, his hands moving to cup her cheeks. His eyes, deep blue and completely serious, held hers with an intensity that took her breath away.
"I love you, and yes, I want to," he said, his thumbs gently brushing across her cheekbones.
Rachel's heart swelled, overflowing with emotion. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his in a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes. When she pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes, his hands drifted down to her waist, holding her steady against him.
"I love you too," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of the confession.
She placed her hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palms, the solid reality of him grounding her as emotions threatened to carry her away. Her blue eyes, bright with unshed tears, never left his.
"Yes," she said softly, the single word carrying the answer to questions both spoken and unspoken between them.
Noctis's expression transformed, joy spreading across his features in a way Rachel had never seen before. The usual weight he carried—the burden of his destiny, the grief for his father, the responsibility of the throne—seemed to lift, if only for this perfect moment between them.
He pulled her closer, capturing her lips in another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate than before. His hands splayed across her back, pressing her against him as if he could somehow merge their two beings into one. Rachel responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through his dark hair as she opened herself to him completely.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless and flushed, Noctis rested his forehead against hers. His hands slid beneath the oversized t-shirt she wore, skimming over her bare skin with reverent touches that made her shiver.
Rachel responded in kind, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest and shoulders, mapping the planes of his body as if committing them to memory. Tonight was about affirmation, about cementing the future they had just claimed for themselves.
Noctis eased her onto her back, his body covering hers as he deepened the kiss. The weight of him above her felt right, like coming home after a long journey. Rachel arched against him, a soft sigh escaping her lips as his hands continued their exploration beneath her borrowed shirt.
Rachel's fingers traced down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling the way they tensed beneath her touch. Her hands found the waistband of his sweatpants, hesitating only a moment before tugging them down. Noctis lifted his hips to help her, the fabric sliding away until there was nothing between them.
He positioned himself above her, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly pushed inside. Rachel's back arched instinctively, her body welcoming him as a soft sigh escaped her lips.
Their lips met in a tender kiss as he began to move within her. Each gentle thrust built upon the last, creating a rhythm as natural as breathing. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, fingertips pressing into his skin as pleasure coursed through her veins.
Their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, finding a pace that was both gentle and intense. Noctis gazed down at Rachel, mesmerized by the soft glow of her skin in the dim cabin light, the way her blonde hair fanned across the pillow. Her eyes were half-lidded, clouded with pleasure as she met each of his thrusts.
The small cabin filled with the sounds of their breathing, punctuated by soft sighs and whispered endearments.
Rachel's hands traced the contours of Noctis's back, feeling the muscles flex and release with each movement. Her body responded to his as if they had been made for each other, every touch amplified by the emotions flowing between them. She arched her back, seeking more of him, drawing him deeper.
Noctis captured her lips with his own, swallowing her soft moan as pleasure built within her. The kiss deepened as their bodies continued their dance, each movement bringing them closer to release. Rachel's fingers tangled in his dark hair, holding him to her as waves of sensation washed through her body.
When her climax finally broke, Rachel trembled beneath him, her soft cry of pleasure captured by Noctis's mouth. Her body tightened around him, pulling him over the edge with her. With one final, deep thrust, Noctis stilled above her, his release pulsing inside her as he groaned softly against her lips.
For several long moments, they remained joined, their hearts beating in tandem as they floated back to reality. Noctis rested his forehead against hers, his breathing gradually slowing.
Eventually, Noctis eased himself from her body and rolled to his side, drawing her close against him. Rachel nestled into his embrace, her head finding its perfect place on his shoulder as his arms encircled her. The exhaustion she had been fighting returned, but it was different now—a pleasant weariness rather than the bone-deep fatigue of magical depletion.
In the neighboring cabin, Prompto sprawled on the couch, his lanky frame taking up most of the available space as he scrolled through the day's photographs on his camera. The TV hummed in the background, some late-night nature program that Gladio was only half-watching, his attention divided between the screen and the book propped on his knee.
Ignis emerged from the kitchenette, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands. The aroma of chamomile filled the small space, a calming counterpoint to the day's chaos. He approached the couch where Prompto lay, his expression expectant.
"Mind if I join you?" Ignis asked, though his tone suggested it wasn't really a question.
"Oh, sure!" Prompto moved his legs, making room for Ignis. He leaned his head against the couch arm as he returned to flicking through his photos.
A particular image caught his attention—Rachel with the mutated coeurl, her hand extended toward the beast, a soft glow emanating from her fingertips as the creature's eyes transitioned from mechanical blue to natural amber. Prompto turned the camera toward the others, a note of pride in his voice.
"Our girl has some sick powers, they're awesome," he declared, admiration evident in his tone.
Ignis sipped his tea thoughtfully, peering at the image over the rim of his cup. "Indeed," he agreed, "though they are also very dangerous if the empire were to get its hands on her."
Gladio scoffed from his position in the armchair, the sound dismissive and confident. "Let them try. They won't get near her with us around."
Prompto nodded vigorously, setting his camera down on his stomach as his expression grew more contemplative. The lighthearted facade slipped momentarily, revealing the more serious young man beneath the carefree exterior.
"So what happens now?" he asked, his voice unusually subdued. "I mean, everyone thinks Noct is supposed to marry Luna, right? That was the whole treaty thing."
Ignis set his teacup down with deliberate care, adjusting his glasses as he considered the question. "The treaty is null and void. The empire saw to that when they invaded Insomnia." His tone was measured, analytical. "As for what happens next..."
Gladio's lips curved into an amused smile as he glanced toward the wall that separated their cabin from Noctis and Rachel's. "I think what happens next is pretty obvious."
"Yeah," Prompto grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "We all know what's possibly happening now." His expression sobered slightly, becoming more earnest. "But I mean after that. When we get to Altissia. When Noct sees Luna again, and Rach is reunited with her." He paused, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "I mean, Rach and Noct are 100% making our niece or nephew at this moment..."
Gladio smirked, shaking his head slightly at Prompto's bluntness. "You've got no filter, do you?"
"I'm just saying what we're all thinking," Prompto replied, crossing his arms defensively. "They're obviously crazy about each other."
Ignis set his teacup down with deliberate care. "I believe Lady Lunafreya will be quite happy for her sister and Noct," he said thoughtfully. "She has always known where Noct's heart truly lies, even before he fully realized it himself."
Prompto brightened at this reassurance. "You think so? I hope you're right." A mischievous grin spread across his face as he glanced at Gladio. "Well, Luna has Gladio to comfort her anyway. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to spend time with you again."
Gladio's expression darkened immediately. He fixed Prompto with a glare that would have intimidated most people. "I already told you," he growled, "nothing happened between me and Luna."
"Sure, big guy," Prompto teased, seemingly immune to Gladio's intimidating stare. "That's why you two spent all that time alone in the gardens at the Citadel."
Gladio's jaw tightened. "We talked about books. That's it."
"Reallyyyyy?" Prompto pressed, his grin widening.
"Enough," Ignis interjected, his tone firm but not unkind. "Whatever may or may not have transpired between Gladio and Lady Lunafreya is not our concern." He shot Prompto a pointed look over his glasses. "And I suggest you drop the subject before our friend decides to use you for morning training exercises."
Prompto chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm not worried about training. I've got Rachel as my shield—she won't let that happen to me."
Ignis's lips quirked upward, a glimmer of amusement softening his stern expression.
"Besides," Prompto continued, turning back to Gladio with renewed confidence, "if you actually want Luna, just tell Noct. He'll be happy for you, and I'll totally help you out. I'm great with romance advice."
Gladio leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as if praying for patience.
Prompto smirked and glanced at Ignis with a triumphant expression. "See? I'm good at this."
"Remarkably adept," Ignis replied dryly, taking another sip of his tea. "Though I suggest you apply your matchmaking skills elsewhere before Gladio decides to demonstrate exactly why he's the King's Shield."
"Yeah, yeah," Prompto waved off the warning, reaching for his camera again.
Hihi I was wondering if I could be added to The Sun in The Dragon House taglist? I just binged the entire series and I can’t waitttt for the next part!!💖💖💖
Of course! And thank u so much for reading, I'm glad you like it.
The Sun in the Dragon House: Chapter 23 - One Dance, One Truth
Series Masterlist
Chapter 22, Chapter 24
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader & Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader & Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader
Warning: Smut!
The afternoon sun warmed Vera's skin as she walked through the castle grounds, Dyana and Ser Arryk accompanying her. After her meeting with Ser Tyland, she needed fresh air to clear her head. The treasury matters had been resolved satisfactorily—half the payment would be advanced to the blacksmiths' guild immediately, with the remainder to follow upon verification of costs and progress.
"This way, my lady," Dyana suggested, gesturing toward the gardens. "The roses are in full bloom."
Vera nodded gratefully, following her maid's lead. The sweet scent of flowers greeted them as they entered the garden, a welcome change from the musty corridors of the Red Keep. Ser Arryk maintained a respectful distance, positioning himself near the entrance where he could observe the entire area while allowing Vera some privacy.
A stone bench nestled between flowering bushes offered a perfect resting place. Vera sank onto it with a barely suppressed wince, her healing wound protesting the day's activities.
"You've pushed yourself too hard today," Dyana observed, settling beside her on the bench. Her concerned gaze swept over Vera's face, noting the slight pallor beneath her olive complexion. "First all that standing in the throne room then Lord Tyland."
"I'm fine," Vera insisted, though the dull throb in her side suggested otherwise. She adjusted her position on the bench, seeking a more comfortable angle. "Just tired."
Dyana's lips pressed into a disapproving line. "The Grand Maester said you should rest more. Your wound isn't fully healed yet."
Vera sighed, leaning back against the warm stone. "I know. But there's too much happening to rest properly." She glanced toward Ser Arryk, ensuring he remained out of earshot before lowering her voice. "Lady Floris's arrival has complicated everything."
"She certainly wasted no time making her intentions clear," Dyana remarked, her voice equally soft. "Half the castle is already gossiping about how she practically dragged Prince Aemond away after the hearing."
Vera's fingers tightened in her lap, though she kept her expression neutral. "Did she succeed in the end?"
"No," Dyana replied with a hint of satisfaction. "But she cornered the prince again near the Small Council chamber. I heard from Marta that he was... less than pleased."
A small smile tugged at Vera's lips despite her best efforts. She could easily imagine Aemond's cold dismissal of Lady Floris's attempts at intimacy.
"Vera," Dyana whispered suddenly, her voice dropping so low it was barely audible. "Don't look immediately, but there's a woman watching us from behind the rose bushes."
Vera's eyes opened slowly, her posture remaining relaxed despite the sudden tension that coiled within her. After a moment, she turned her head casually, as though simply taking in the garden's beauty. Her gaze settled on the figure partially concealed among the withered rose bushes—a dark-skinned woman wrapped in a plain brown cloak, her face partially obscured by its hood.
Ser Arryk had noticed the watcher as well. His hand moved to rest on his sword hilt as he stepped closer to the bench, positioning himself between Vera and the potential threat.
"It's one of the White Worm's messengers," he murmured, recognition dawning in his eyes.
The woman, seeing that she had been discovered, stepped out from her hiding place. She approached with unhurried steps, her movements fluid and graceful despite the simplicity of her attire. Her dark eyes remained fixed on Vera, her expression revealing nothing of her purpose.
"Good day," she greeted them, her voice carrying a slight accent that Vera couldn't quite place.
Dyana rose immediately, moving away from the bench with practiced discretion. "I'll give you privacy, my lady," she murmured, retreating to stand beside Ser Arryk, who maintained his vigilant watch.
The woman settled onto the bench beside Vera, close enough to speak privately but maintaining a respectful distance. For a long moment, she simply studied Vera's face, her dark eyes observant and keen.
"You look better," she said finally, her voice pitched low to avoid being overheard. "The fever has passed the second night."
Vera's brow furrowed slightly. "The White Worm sent you to check on me?" she asked, unable to mask her surprise.
The woman's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "You became an ally to the White Worm the moment you kept your promise about the children in the fighting pits," she explained, her hands remaining folded in her lap. "My mistress values those who honor their word, especially when it concerns the innocent."
"I don't understand," Vera said, lowering her voice further. "Why would she concern herself with my health?"
"The night after the attack, when fever took hold of you," the woman explained, her dark eyes never leaving Vera's face, "the White Worm sent me to your chambers with a special draught to break the fever. I mixed it with the wine that was by the bed when you were alone for a few moments. The White Worm protects those who protect children. She considers you a valuable ally in a city with few true friends."
Vera glanced toward Ser Arryk and Dyana, who stood at a respectful distance, pretending not to watch the exchange. "Why are you telling me this now?" she asked, turning back to the messenger.
"Because you will need friends in the days to come," the woman replied, her voice taking on a more urgent quality. "The city whispers of your prince's betrothal to the Baratheon girl. The White Worm knows how these games of power are played, and she offers you her assistance, should you require it. When the time comes that you need the White Worm's help, simply place a white candle in your window facing the city. Her people will find you."
With a respectful nod that bordered on a bow, the woman turned and walked away, her brown cloak blending into the autumn garden as she disappeared around a hedge.
Ser Arryk approached immediately, his expression concerned. "What did she want?" he asked, his voice low as his gaze followed the departing messenger.
"To offer... friendship," Vera replied carefully, her mind racing with the implications of this unexpected alliance.
Dyana returned to her side, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. "Was it about the children from the fighting pits? The two brothers?"
Vera nodded, rising from the bench with Dyana's assistance. "Partially. It seems I made an impression."
"The White Worm is not someone to be trifled with," Ser Arryk warned as they began walking back toward the castle. "Her influence in the city grows daily, especially among the common folk."
"All the more reason to have her as a friend rather than an enemy," Vera observed quietly, her dark eyes thoughtful as she contemplated this new piece on the game board.
*******
Vera sat alone in her chambers, attempting to lose herself in the pages of "The Conquest of Dorne." The afternoon light slanted through her windows, casting golden patterns across the stone floor as she curled on her couch, a blanket draped across her legs despite the warmth of the day. She found herself reading the same paragraph for the third time, her mind wandering to the morning's events.
A firm knock at her door pulled her from her troubled thoughts.
"Enter," she called, marking her place in the book.
Ser Criston stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. His white cloak was impeccable as always, the golden fastenings gleaming in the afternoon light. Vera smiled at the sight of her father, setting her book aside as he approached.
"Father," she greeted warmly, but her smile faltered as she noted the grim set of his mouth, the subtle tension in his shoulders. Something was wrong. She rose to her feet, concern furrowing her brow. "What is it? Has something happened?"
Criston's dark eyes met hers, his expression carefully controlled despite the worry evident in their depths. "I'll be leaving King's Landing in a few days," he said without preamble. "Leading an army into the Crownlands."
"An army?" Vera repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why?"
"It's a submission of all the noble houses in the Crownlands to the King," Ser Criston explained, his voice low and steady. "We need to weaken Rhaenyra's tenuous hold on the mainland before she can gather more strength."
Vera sank back onto the couch, her fingers curling into the fabric of her blanket. "When was this decided?"
"Aemond and I have been planning it for weeks," Criston admitted, moving to sit beside her. "Otto agreed with the strategy. The Small Council approved it now."
A cold weight settled in Vera's stomach as she processed this information. Her father would be leading an army into potentially hostile territory. The dangers were numerous—ambushes, sieges, battles.
"Is Aemond going with you?" she asked softly, her dark eyes searching her father's face.
Criston nodded. "He'll be riding Vhagar, providing cover for the army from above. His presence should discourage any foolish resistance."
Relief washed through her at this news. Vhagar was the largest, most fearsome dragon in the realm. With Aemond and his mount watching over the army, her father would be safer than he might otherwise be.
"Your uncle Gwayne will be joining us as well," Criston added. "He's bringing half the Hightower army to bolster our forces."
A small smile touched Vera's lips at the mention of Gwayne Hightower. Alicent's older brother had always been kind to her, treating her like a niece despite the lack of blood relation. He was a capable commander, respected by his men and known for his level-headed approach to warfare.
"I'm glad Uncle Gwayne will be with you," she said, reaching for her father's hand. "But I'll worry for all three of you."
Criston squeezed her fingers, his calloused palm warm against her skin. "Everything will be alright," he assured her, his dark eyes softening as they met hers. "This is a show of strength more than anything. Most houses will bend the knee rather than face dragon fire."
Vera nodded, though the knot of anxiety in her chest remained. "How long will you be gone?" she asked, dreading the answer.
Criston hesitated, and that brief pause told her more than words could have. "Two or three weeks," he finally admitted. "Maybe four, depending on how quickly the houses submit."
Vera frowned, the full weight of his words settling over her. A month without seeing her father or Aemond—it would be the longest they had ever been separated. The thought left a hollow feeling in her chest.
"You'll be alright," Criston said, his tone gentling as he noted her expression. "You'll be safer here at King's Landing, at the Keep. Ser Arryk will watch over you in my absence."
"I know," Vera said softly, forcing herself to accept the reality of the situation. She straightened her shoulders slightly, pushing aside her selfish desire to keep them close. "When do you leave?"
"Three days hence," Criston replied. "Time enough to gather supplies and organize the men."
Three days. Such a short time to prepare for such a long absence. Vera's mind raced with all that needed to be done—supplies to gather, arrangements to make.
*******
As twilight descended over the Red Keep, Vera stood before her mirror, studying her reflection with critical eyes. Dyana had dressed her in a flowing gown of deep burgundy, the color complementing her olive-brown complexion. Her dark hair had been styled elegantly, swept up to expose the graceful line of her neck where a small silver dragon pendant—a gift from Aemond—gleamed in the candlelight.
"You look beautiful, Vera," Dyana said, making a final adjustment to the gown's drape. "Like a true princess."
A sad smile touched Vera's lips at the maid's choice of words. "But I'm not a princess," she reminded her gently. "And tonight I must remember that more than ever."
The walk to the Great Hall seemed both too long and too brief. Ser Arryk escorted her through the torch-lit corridors, his white cloak billowing slightly with each measured step.
Vera paused as she caught sight of a familiar figure striding toward her from a side corridor. Aemond's tall form emerged from the shadows, his black doublet making his silver-gold hair seem even brighter in the torchlight. The sight of him sent a familiar warmth through her chest, momentarily chasing away her anxiety about the feast.
"I thought you would be already at the feast," she admitted quietly as he drew near.
Aemond scoffed, his violet eye meeting hers with familiar intensity. "I hate these things and you know it," he said softly, his voice carrying that characteristic edge even when lowered.
Vera let out a soft chuckle, the sound genuine despite her nerves. Of course he hated feasts—the noise, the pretense, the endless small talk with people he barely tolerated. His disdain for such events had been a constant since childhood.
He held his arm out to her, a silent invitation. Vera hesitated for a second, acutely aware of Ser Arryk's watchful presence and what accepting Aemond's escort might look like to others—particularly with Lady Floris waiting in the hall. But the resolute look in his eye made her decision for her. She placed her hand on his arm, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath the fabric of his doublet.
The touch steadied her, grounding her in the moment as they approached the open doors that led into the Great Hall. The space beyond glowed with the light of hundreds of candles, illuminating the gathered nobles in their finery. Vera caught sight of the royal family already seated at the high table, with Lady Floris positioned prominently among them, her crimson gown a splash of vibrant color against the more subdued hues around her.
As they crossed the threshold, Vera felt the weight of dozens of eyes turning toward them. The conversations dimmed momentarily before resuming with increased fervor, whispers fluttering through the hall like autumn leaves. She kept her gaze forward, chin lifted slightly, though her fingers tightened imperceptibly on Aemond's arm.
Vera caught fragments as they passed—some speculating on the impropriety of Lady Floris's betrothed escorting another woman, others dismissing the concern with reminders that Vera was practically family, a childhood friend of all the Targaryen children.
Aemond's grip on her hand tightened almost imperceptibly as they approached the high table. Alicent's face brightened at the sight of them, her green eyes warming with maternal affection. She smiled broadly, the expression lighting her still-beautiful features as they drew near.
Lady Floris's face remained fixed in a pleasant smile, though Vera didn't miss the flash of anger in her eyes or the slight whitening of her knuckles as she gripped her goblet. The Baratheon girl's composure was admirable, but the rigid set of her shoulders betrayed her true feelings.
When they reached the table, Vera discovered the seating arrangement with a sinking feeling. Her place was beside Alicent, while Aemond's was next to Lady Floris—a deliberate positioning that could not be mistaken for coincidence. Aemond's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as he pulled out Vera's chair for her, his movements stiff with barely contained annoyance.
"Thank you," Vera murmured as she took her seat, offering him a sympathetic glance that spoke volumes between them.
Aemond moved to his assigned place with obvious reluctance, his tall frame seeming to radiate displeasure as he settled beside his supposed betrothed. Lady Floris immediately turned toward him, her painted lips curved in a smile that displayed perfect teeth.
"Prince Aemond," she said, her voice carrying just enough to reach Vera's ears. "I was beginning to worry you might not attend."
Vera couldn't hear Aemond's response, but the coolness of his expression told her all she needed to know.
Servants appeared with the first course—a delicate soup of leeks and mushrooms, fragrant with herbs. Vera lifted her spoon, though her appetite had diminished at the sight of Lady Floris leaning slightly toward Aemond, her proximity to him almost possessive.
"I've been thinking about your father's upcoming campaign," Alicent said, drawing Vera's attention from the unwelcome sight. "You must be concerned for him."
Vera nodded, grateful for the distraction. "I am," she admitted softly. "Though knowing Aemond will be watching over the army from above provides some comfort."
"Vhagar's presence will ensure a swift resolution," Alicent agreed, her green eyes softening with understanding. "Still, it will be difficult having them both away."
"Yes," Vera said, her gaze inadvertently sliding back to Aemond. He sat rigid beside Lady Floris, responding to her attempts at conversation with minimal courtesy. The muscle in his jaw jumped with tension, a tell Vera recognized from years of observing him—he was exercising extreme restraint.
The musicians in the corner began a new melody, livelier than the previous ones. Several couples rose from their seats, moving to the center of the hall where space had been cleared for dancing. Vera watched them with a distant smile, her fingers toying with the stem of her goblet.
Vera glanced to the rest of the royal family. Helaena, sitting between Aegon and Lady Floris, had leaned toward Aemond around Lady Floris. Vera couldn't hear what was being said over the music and chatter, but she noticed Lady Floris turning slightly, clearly trying to listen to their exchange.
Aemond tilted his head toward his sister, his expression softening in that rare way it only did for Helaena. His lips curved into what appeared to be a smirk as he replied to whatever she had said.
Helaena's face brightened with a smile, her dreamy eyes suddenly focused and clear as she spoke again. Lady Floris's brow furrowed in confusion, and Vera realized they must be speaking in High Valyrian—a language the Baratheon girl wouldn't understand.
Aemond nodded, his violet eye finding Vera's across the table for the briefest moment before he stood. Lady Floris looked up at him expectantly, her lips parting in what Vera assumed was an invitation to dance.
The Baratheon girl's expression shifted from anticipation to barely concealed outrage as Aemond walked past her without a word, circling the table toward where Vera sat with Alicent. Vera's heart quickened despite her efforts to maintain composure.
Aemond stopped behind his mother's chair, leaning down between Alicent and Vera. His proximity sent a familiar warmth through her, the scent of him—leather and something uniquely Aemond—momentarily overriding the feast's mingled aromas.
"The Queen is demanding I take my woman for a dance," he said quietly, his voice carrying only to their immediate circle. "The problem is, I have two."
Vera bit her lip to hide her smile, understanding immediately that he was teasing about Alicent being one of his "women." Otto, seated on Alicent's other side, raised an eyebrow, though Vera caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that betrayed his amusement.
Alicent placed her hand on her son's arm, her green eyes twinkling with maternal affection and amusement. "Take Vera," she told him softly.
Aemond straightened and held out his hand to Vera, his violet eye holding hers with unmistakable intent. Vera hesitated, acutely aware of Lady Floris watching them from across the table, her face a mask of barely contained fury.
She glanced at Alicent, seeking permission or perhaps reassurance. The Queen Dowager nodded subtly, her smile encouraging.
Vera placed her hand in Aemond's, his fingers warm and strong as they closed around hers. The touch sent a familiar shiver up her arm, her body remembering their intimate connection from that morning. She rose from her seat, acutely aware of the eyes that turned toward them as Aemond led her toward the open space where other couples danced.
"Helaena told you to ask me to dance?" she whispered as they moved away from the high table, conscious of Lady Floris's furious gaze burning into her back.
"She said it was both a sisterly request and a royal command," Aemond replied, his voice carrying that hint of sardonic amusement she knew so well. "Who am I to refuse my queen?"
They reached the center of the floor just as the musicians began a new song, the melody slower and more intimate than the previous tunes. Aemond turned to face her, placing his hand at her waist with careful precision, mindful of her healing wound. His touch was light yet possessive, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of her gown.
Vera's hand settled on his shoulder, feeling the solid strength beneath the fine black fabric. Their joined hands rose to the proper position as Aemond guided her into the first steps of the dance.
"Everyone is watching us," she murmured, feeling the weight of dozens of eyes following their movements.
"Let them watch," Aemond replied, his voice pitched low for her ears alone. "I don't care what they think."
"Lady Floris looks ready to murder me in my sleep," Vera observed, unable to resist a glance toward the high table where the Baratheon girl sat rigid with fury, her knuckles white around her goblet.
Aemond's lips curved into that arrogant smirk she both loved and found infuriating. "She's welcome to try," he said, his eye gleaming with dangerous promise. "I'd enjoy the excuse to send her back to Storm's End in pieces."
"Aemond," Vera scolded softly, though she couldn't quite suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "That's terrible."
"It's honest," he countered, guiding her through a turn with surprising grace for such a tall man. His movements were fluid and controlled, his body moving in perfect harmony with hers.
The music swelled around them as they moved in perfect synchrony, their bodies remembering the countless dances they'd shared since childhood. Vera felt herself relaxing into his familiar rhythm, momentarily forgetting the eyes that followed their every movement.
At the high table, the royal family watched with varying expressions. Alicent's face glowed with maternal pride, her green eyes soft as she observed her son and foster daughter. Beside her, Helaena, who took Vera's seat for now, smiled dreamily, her violet eyes unusually focused as she followed the dancers' movements.
Otto leaned closer to Alicent, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried only to her ears. "I have sent a letter to Daeron. He will be coming by the end of the week."
Alicent's face softened with maternal relief, her green eyes momentarily clouding with emotion. "He should have been here long ago," she said softly, her fingers tightening around her wine goblet. "This war is no place for one of my sons to remain far from home."
Otto nodded once, his gaze shifting briefly toward Aemond and Vera dancing together among the nobles. The couple moved with an intimacy that spoke of years of closeness, their bodies perfectly synchronized despite the formal steps of the dance.
"What of Lady Floris?" Alicent asked, her voice barely audible above the music.
Otto's mouth tightened slightly, the lines around his eyes deepening as he considered the question. "Lord Borros will not be pleased when the change is announced," he admitted. "But by the time his anger settles, Daeron will already be here. The matter will be harder to contest."
Alicent sighed quietly, her fingers brushing the stem of her wine goblet. "Aegon will not take it well."
"No," Otto agreed, his eyes narrowing as he watched his eldest grandson observe the dancing couple with poorly concealed jealousy. "He will not. But he will have to go with it. He won't be able to force Aemond to marry Lady Floris."
"No, he will not," Alicent replied with a light nod, a hint of steel entering her voice despite its softness.
Aegon sat rigid in his chair, his knuckles white around his goblet as he watched his brother's hands on Vera's waist. His violet eyes darkened with each turn of the dance, each shared smile between the couple.
On the second seat near him, Lady Floris seethed with barely contained fury. Her beautiful face remained fixed in a pleasant mask, though her eyes burned with hatred as she watched Aemond guide Vera through another graceful turn. The crimson of her gown seemed to deepen with her anger, her fingers methodically shredding the delicate napkin in her lap.
The music drew to a close, and Aemond bowed formally to Vera. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles that stretched the boundaries of propriety. His eye never left hers, the intensity of his gaze making her cheeks warm despite her best efforts to maintain composure.
"Gaomagon daor naejot jikagon ziry obvious," Vera whispered in flat High Valyrian, shaking her head in amusement. Don't make it so obvious.
Aemond's lips curved into a dark smirk as he replied in the same language, "Skorkydoso iksis se sȳz yn?" What is the fun in not?
Vera shook her head again, unable to suppress her smile despite her exasperation. She allowed him to lead her back to the royal table, acutely aware of the speculative glances that followed them.
Alicent glanced toward Aegon and Lady Floris, noting their poorly concealed anger. Her gaze drifted away from Aegon and Lady Floris, her attention caught by Helaena, who leaned close to whisper something in her ear.
"Mother, I should return to my seat."
Alicent smiled warmly at her daughter and nodded. "Of course, my dear."
Helaena rose and made her way back to her place between Aegon and Lady Floris. The Baratheon girl shifted slightly to make room, though her eyes remained fixed on Aemond with barely concealed frustration.
Vera noticed Ser Criston standing near the table, his white cloak a stark contrast against the shadows. He stood with several knights positioned at strategic corners of the hall, his dark eyes constantly scanning for potential threats. When his gaze met hers, he offered a subtle nod of approval that warmed her heart despite the tension of the evening.
With a soft sigh, Vera returned to her seat beside the Queen Dowager. The burgundy fabric of her gown whispered against the chair as she settled into it, acutely aware of Aemond returning to his own place at the end of the table next to Lady Floris. The distance between them felt like a physical ache after the closeness of their dance.
Alicent leaned closer, her voice a gentle murmur meant only for Vera's ears. "That was beautiful to watch, my dear. You dance so well together."
Heat bloomed in Vera's cheeks at the Queen's words. "Thank you, mother," she replied softly.
Across the table, Lady Floris had resumed her attempts to engage Aemond in conversation, her crimson lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Aemond responded with minimal courtesy, his answers clipped and his posture rigid.
"He's not very subtle, is he?" Alicent observed with quiet amusement, taking a small sip from her goblet.
Vera suppressed a smile, reaching for her own wine. "He never has been."
The servers arrived with the next course, a succulent roast duck dressed with cherries and surrounded by glazed vegetables. The aroma made Vera's stomach rumble despite her anxieties. She reached for her knife, determined to at least attempt to eat something substantial.
Across the table, Helaena suddenly rose from her seat again, her movement fluid and graceful. She glided around the table toward Aemond, her silver-gold hair catching the light of the candles as she moved.
Helaena positioned herself directly in Aemond's line of sight, effectively blocking Lady Floris from his view. The queen leaned down, her lips close to her brother's ear. The musical cadence of High Valyrian flowed from her lips, the ancient language sounding like poetry even in whispered form. "Gōntan ao raqagon lilāre?" Did you enjoy dancing?
A rare, genuine smile spread across Aemond's face as he looked up at his sister. He responded in the same language, his deeper voice matching her rhythm perfectly. "Nyke jurnegon ziry dārilaros. Issa jēda naejot ūndegon nykes Vera issaros hae gaomagon rȳ se jēdar." I enjoyed it greatly. It's time to see my Vera shine as she does in the light.
Lady Floris shifted in her seat, her face flushing with frustration as the siblings continued their conversation in a language she couldn't understand.
Helaena nodded, a knowing smile playing at her lips as she continued in High Valyrian. "Ziry looks hae se jelbazma riña issaros jation lēda ao." It looks like the storm girl is angry with you.
Aemond's gaze flickered briefly to Lady Floris before dismissing her entirely. He let out a soft scoff and replied, "Nyke daor care. Ziry ūndegon se olvie." I don't care. She sees the truth.
"Ziry ūndegon yn ziry daor jaelagon naejot jiōragon," Helaena said softly, still in High Valyrian. She sees but doesn't accept.
Aemond hummed, clearly not caring what Lady Floris accepted or not. His violet eye flickered back to Vera, the intensity of his gaze making her breath catch even from across the table.
Helaena gently placed her hand on his shoulder before returning to her seat.
The remainder of the meal passed in carefully maintained pleasantries, though the undercurrent of tension never fully dissipated. A maid appeared silently at Vera's side. She bent low, her lips nearly touching Vera's ear as she whispered urgently.
"My lady," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I've word from the woman you asked about. The blacksmiths families..." The maid's voice dropped even lower. "One child has already passed. Two others are sick with fever—little girls."
Vera's expression remained carefully composed despite the twist of grief in her chest. She turned slightly, keeping her voice low. "Do you know where the families live?"
The maid gave a small nod. "In the Street of Steel, my lady."
"Pack some food," Vera instructed quietly. "And please go to Grand Maester Orwyle. Ask him to accompany you and a guard to them. If he refuses, get whatever medicines might be needed from him, and I'll go myself."
"Yes, my lady," the maid whispered, straightening and slipping away as unobtrusively as she had arrived.
Vera watched the maid moving through the crowded hall, weaving her way toward the corner table where several council members sat. The maid's steps were purposeful as she approached Grand Maester Orwyle, tapping lightly on his shoulder. Vera held her breath, tension coiling in her stomach as she watched the exchange.
Orwyle turned, his chain clinking softly with the movement. The maid leaned close, her lips moving quickly as she relayed Vera's message. For a moment, his expression remained unreadable, and Vera's heart sank. Then, to her immense relief, he nodded.
The maid gave a small curtsy before hurrying away, presumably to pack food for the suffering families. Vera's shoulders relaxed slightly as she watched Orwyle speak briefly to the other men at his table. His chain gleamed in the candlelight as he rose, his robes swishing against the stone floor as he made his way toward the royal table.
When he reached Vera's side, he inclined his head respectfully. "My lady."
Vera smiled up at him, gratitude warming her chest. "Thank you, Grand Maester."
Orwyle moved past her, approaching Aegon from behind. He bent slightly, speaking in hushed tones to the king and Otto. Vera caught fragments of his explanation—something about Lady Vera requesting his assistance for sick children in the Street of Steel.
Aegon listened, his expression thoughtful as he glanced briefly in Vera's direction. He nodded and said something too quiet for her to hear, though she caught the words "three guards" and "safety."
Orwyle straightened, bowing to the king before turning to leave the hall. Vera watched him go, a mixture of relief and worry twisting in her chest. She turned her attention back to her plate, pushing the food around with her fork. Her appetite had vanished at the thought of those sick children—one already lost, two little girls fighting fever.
A gentle hand covered hers, startling her from her dark thoughts. Alicent was watching her, the Queen Dowager's green eyes soft with understanding. No words were needed between them; the Queen Dowager knew exactly what troubled her.
Across the table, Ser Criston's gaze lingered on his daughter, pride evident in his dark eyes despite his stoic expression. Vera felt a rush of warmth at her father's silent support.
The feast gradually began to wind down, lords and ladies drifting from the hall in small groups, their voices echoing against the stone walls. Vera leaned toward Alicent, suddenly exhausted by the evening's events.
"Mother," she said softly. "I think I'll retire for the night."
Alicent squeezed her hand gently and nodded. "Of course, my dear. Rest well."
Vera rose carefully, mindful of her healing wound. She moved between the chairs, pausing between Otto and Aegon.
"Grandfather, Aegon," she murmured, keeping her voice low. "I'm going to rest for tonight."
Otto reached out, briefly patting her hand in silent acknowledgment. Aegon nodded, his violet eyes lingering on her face a moment too long before he turned back to his wine.
Vera stepped away from the table, relieved to escape the tension that had permeated the feast. As she moved toward the doors, she felt the weight of multiple gazes following her—Aemond's intense stare, Lady Floris's resentful glare, and her father's protective watch.
Ser Arryk materialized at her side as she reached the massive doors, his white armor gleaming in the torchlight. "Allow me to escort you, my lady."
Vera nodded gratefully, her side beginning to ache from the long day. The corridors of the Red Keep were mercifully quiet compared to the feast hall, the silence broken only by their footsteps echoing against stone.
They reached her chambers, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the stone walls. Vera paused before her door, turning to face her escort.
"Thank you, Ser Arryk," she said, offering him a tired smile. "Good night."
The knight bowed his head, his weathered face softening with paternal concern. "Good night, my lady. Rest well."
He took up his position beside her door as she slipped inside, his armored form a reassuring presence even as the heavy oak panel closed between them. The chamber was pleasantly warm, the hearth blazing with fresh logs. Dyana had been here earlier, ensuring her comfort as always. Vera let out a long breath, the tension of the evening slowly draining from her shoulders.
She moved toward the hearth, extending her hands toward the welcome heat. The flames danced hypnotically, casting a golden glow across the chamber. Her mind drifted to the sick children in the Street of Steel, hoping Orwyle had reached them in time.
A firm knock at her door startled her from her thoughts. Vera frowned lightly, wondering who would seek her at this hour.
"Enter," she called, turning toward the door.
It swung open to reveal Aemond, his tall form silhouetted against the corridor's torchlight. He stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him. Vera noticed immediately that Ser Arryk was no longer visible outside—Aemond must have dismissed him.
"You shouldn't be here tonight," she said softly, her heart quickening despite her words.
Aemond locked the door with deliberate movements before crossing the chamber toward her, his steps measured and purposeful. "You left early," he stated, his violet eye gleaming in the firelight.
Vera sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I was worried. There are children outside that need us—Orwyle went to help them." Her voice caught as she added, "One child to one family already died."
Aemond's expression softened as he reached her. His hands came up to cradle her face, his touch unexpectedly gentle for such a fierce man. "They will be alright because of you," he murmured, his thumbs tracing light circles against her cheekbones.
He leaned closer, his intent clear in the intensity of his gaze. Vera's breath hitched as she placed her hands against his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her palms. She didn't push him away, but held him there, suspended in the moment between desire and duty.
"We can't," she whispered, her dark eyes meeting his violet one. "Lady Floris is at the Keep. She's here for you. She's your betrothed."
"So?" Aemond asked softly, his breath warm against her lips.
"We can't do this while she's at the Keep," Vera insisted, though her body betrayed her as she swayed slightly toward him.
Aemond hummed low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through her. He leaned closer still, his lips hovering just above hers. "Watch me," he murmured, the challenge clear in his voice.
Vera surrendered to the inevitable, letting him claim her mouth in a kiss that ignited something primal within her. She returned his passion with equal fervor, her hands sliding from his chest to wrap around him as he pulled her closer. The heat of his body against hers made her forget everything—Lady Floris, the feast, the watching eyes—everything except this moment.
"Aemond," she moaned softly as his lips traced a burning path down her throat. Her fingers tangled in his silver-gold hair, holding him to her as pleasure coursed through her veins.
His hands moved to the laces of her gown, deftly loosening them with practiced ease. The burgundy fabric loosened around her, the cool air a shocking contrast to the heat of his touch. Vera gasped as his fingers traced the sensitive skin revealed by the parting fabric.
"I've thought of nothing but you since this morning," he confessed against her skin, his voice rough with desire.
The burgundy dress slipped from Vera's shoulders, falling in a whisper of silk to pool around her feet. She stepped out of the circle of fabric, her olive-brown skin glowing amber in the firelight as her fingers worked at the fastenings of Aemond's doublet.
"Floris was so angry tonight," Vera murmured, her voice soft as she pushed the black garment from his broad shoulders. "The way she looked at me during our dance..."
Aemond's hands settled possessively on her bare hips as he let her undress him. "Good," he said, his voice low and rough with desire.
He reached up and removed his eye patch, revealing the sapphire stone. The blue gem caught the firelight, gleaming like a star against his pale skin.
"Let her see what she can never have," he growled, pulling Vera against him. "Let her know that I belong to you alone."
Their lips met in a hungry kiss that stole Vera's breath. Her fingers tangled in his silver-gold hair as his hands roamed her naked body, leaving trails of heat wherever they touched. The last of their clothing fell away until nothing remained between them but skin against skin.
Aemond lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed where he laid her gently on the pillows. Vera closed her eyes as his mouth began a slow, deliberate journey down her body. His lips traced the curve of her neck, the hollow of her throat, the swell of her breast. When his mouth closed over her nipple, a soft moan escaped her, her back arching instinctively into his touch.
Her hands found his shoulders, fingers digging into his muscle as his mouth continued its torturous path. The scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin sent shivers cascading through her body. When his fingers slipped between her legs, finding her already wet and ready for him, another moan broke from her lips.
Another moan, louder this time, slipped past her lips as he slid one finger inside her, then another, his thumb circling the sensitive bud that made her tremble beneath his touch.
"Aemond," she gasped, her nails scoring light trails across his shoulders as heat pooled low in her belly. "Please..."
He looked up at her, his violet eye dark with desire as his fingers continued their relentless rhythm. "Please what?" he asked, his voice rough with need.
"I want you," she whispered, her body aching for completion. "All of you."
Aemond's lips curved into that familiar smirk that both infuriated and thrilled her. He withdrew his fingers, replacing them with something considerably more substantial as he positioned himself above her. Vera wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer as he entered her with agonizing slowness.
Vera moaned quietly at feeling his member inside of her again. As Aemond started to move, Vera's hands roamed his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath her palms. His skin was hot beneath her touch, slightly damp with perspiration as he established a rhythm that made her breath catch.
"The only one I will ever marry is you," Aemond breathed against her ear, his voice rough with passion and certainty. "No one else."
Vera closed her eyes as she moaned quietly while he kept hitting deep inside of her. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, making her forget everything beyond this moment—the Baratheon girl, the upcoming campaign, the politics of the court. Nothing existed except Aemond and the heat building between them.
"You'll be the one to give me children," Aemond said, his rhythm faltering slightly as emotion thickened his voice. "Only you."
Vera opened her mouth to respond, but words failed her as another wave of pleasure washed through her. Aemond's lips hovered just above hers, so close she could feel his breath mingling with her own.
"Do you want it?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you want to marry me? To bear my children?"
"Yes," Vera moaned softly, the single word both an answer and a prayer.
The admission broke something open between them. Aemond claimed her mouth in a kiss that matched the intensity of their joining bodies. His tongue swept past her lips as his movements became more urgent, more desperate.
Vera clung to him. Her wound no longer pained her—or perhaps she simply couldn't feel it through the haze of desire that consumed her. She arched beneath him, meeting each thrust with equal fervor as the tension coiled tighter in her core.
"I love you," she gasped against his mouth, the words slipping out unbidden as she approached the edge of release. "I've always loved you."
Aemond groaned in response, his movements becoming erratic as his control slipped. His forehead pressed against hers, sweat-dampened silver-gold hair falling around them like a curtain, creating a private world where only they existed.
"Mine," he growled, the possessive word vibrating through her as his rhythm intensified. "Always mine."
The tension within her broke suddenly, pleasure crashing over her in waves that made her cry out. She buried her face against his shoulder to muffle the sound, her body clenching around him as release claimed her. Aemond followed moments later, his arms tightening around her as he shuddered above her.
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
The Regalia purred along the coastal highway, leaving Galdin Quay and its luxuries behind. Ignis navigated the sleek vehicle with practiced precision, his gloved hands resting lightly on the steering wheel as they headed toward their next destination.
Gladio occupied the passenger seat, arms folded as he scanned the passing horizon. Rachel sat in the back between Noctis and Prompto; her hand was curled in Noctis's where it rested on her lap. Blaze's shadow flickered above the Regalia, the eagle matching their speed with lazy, banking sweeps.
They'd been on the road for two hours before anything broke the comfort of highway monotony. Gladio, who'd been staring out at the mountains with the predatory patience of a man waiting for trouble, jabbed his thumb at something glinting in the valley below.
"Check it," he said, with the lazy authority of someone certain he was about to be proven right.
Rachel craned forward. The mountains were cut by a gray scar—an ugly block of metal and floodlights. The imperial base was still half-finished, but already it looked like a tumor on the landscape.
Prompto let out a low whistle. "Guess the Niffs don't even try to hide 'em anymore, huh?"
Noctis glared at the distant base, jaw set, as Ignis steered the Regalia into the breakdown lane. The engine idled, ticking faintly in the quiet, just as Noctis's phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out, thumbed the button, and cradled it to his ear.
"Cor," he said, voice flat.
A pause. Rachel watched his profile, the way his eyes flicked upward, tracking something only he could see.
"Yeah, we actually found it," Noctis replied, voice gaining a tinge of mordant humor on the last syllable.
Another silence, the air between them filling with the faint sound of Blaze shrieking overhead.
"Okay, see you then," he finished, and ended the call with a curt motion.
"What's up, boss?" Prompto asked.
Noctis let out a breath, shoulders dropping. "Oh, you know. People to see, bases to burn." He glanced at Rachel. "Monica is around. We're meeting her at the outpost."
Prompto mimed an explosion with his hands, mouthing the word "boom". The car glided off the highway and onto a packed dirt road that wound north toward a cluster of pre-fab shacks and grease-stained diners. The outpost loomed ahead: a nondescript collection of steel trailers and dusty military tents, the kind of place built to be abandoned before the concrete even dried.
The Regalia rolled to a stop in front of the HQ. Monica stood outside, arms folded, her silhouette outlined by the harsh glare of the midday sun. She looked as if she'd been waiting for them since dawn, her stance rigid, blue eyes sharp and unsparing as they stepped out of the car.
Rachel was the last to exit, her hand lingering on the polished fender as she scanned the outpost.
Monica's eyes settled on Rachel for a moment, her expression softening. She gave Rachel a small nod of acknowledgment before turning her attention to Noctis, her posture straightening as she addressed the prince.
"Your Highness," she said, her voice carrying both formality and genuine relief. "I'm glad you're safe."
Gladio stepped forward, his face lighting up with unmistakable relief at seeing a familiar face from the Crownsguard. "Monica," he said, his deep voice carrying a question he was almost afraid to ask. "Where's all the others?"
Monica's face twisted with grief, lines of exhaustion suddenly more pronounced in the harsh sunlight. She drew a deep breath before answering, as if gathering strength to deliver news she wished she didn't have to share.
"Most of the Crownsguard didn't make it," she said, each word heavy with loss. "It was all we could do to escort Lady Iris out of the city. Dustin is with her as we speak, seeing her the rest of the way to Lestallum."
Gladio's expression shifted from relief to a complex mixture of gratitude and pain. "I owe you guys big time."
Monica nodded, acknowledging his gratitude before addressing the entire group. "The marshal has apprised me of the plan. We've found a back door into the imperial base." She pulled out a map and gestured for Noctis to approach. "I'll mark the route on your map."
As Noctis stepped forward, Monica's expression grew more serious. "There could be a bit of a problem to reach close. It seems there are some animals resembling tigers—could be Coeurl, but larger and... mutant. Dangerous and very strong."
"How many of these creatures have you encountered?" Ignis asked, adjusting his glasses as he joined them.
"Our scouts have spotted at least three," Monica replied. "They seem territorial, patrolling specific areas near the route we need to take."
Prompto groaned softly. "Great. Giant mutant tiger things. Just what we needed."
Noctis studied the marked map with a furrowed brow. "We can handle a few oversized cats," he said, though there was little humor in his voice. The weight of Monica's earlier news—the decimation of the Crownsguard—still hung heavy in the air.
"These aren't ordinary beasts," Monica cautioned. "They've been... changed somehow. The empire has been conducting experiments on local wildlife. These creatures move with unusual coordination, almost as if they're being controlled."
Rachel exchanged a glance with Noctis, their earlier intimacy momentarily replaced by shared concern. The thought of animals being twisted by imperial experiments made her stomach turn. Whatever natural connection she had with wildlife might be useless against creatures that had been artificially altered.
"We should proceed with caution," Ignis advised, his analytical mind already formulating potential strategies. "Perhaps a stealth approach would be best."
Monica nodded in agreement. "The marshal is waiting for you at a hunter's cabin closer to the base. He'll guide you through the final approach."
"So, what's the plan?" Gladio asked. "We rendezvous with Cor, sneak past the mutant tigers, and infiltrate the base?"
"Essentially, yes," Monica confirmed. "The marshal will explain the details of the infiltration. My role was to guide you this far and provide intelligence on what you'll be facing."
Noctis folded the map and tucked it into his pocket. "Then we should get moving. The longer that base stands, the stronger the imperial presence becomes in this region."
Monica nodded, her expression grim but determined. "Be careful, Your Highness. These beasts aren't the only danger."
"Nothing we haven't handled before," Noctis replied, though there was little bravado in his tone—just the quiet determination of someone who had no choice but to move forward.
The group returned to the Regalia, a new tension settling over them as they processed both the news of the Crownsguard's losses and the challenge that lay ahead. Rachel slid into the backseat beside Noctis, her thoughts troubled by the description of the mutated creatures.
"You okay?" Noctis asked softly, noting her pensive expression.
Rachel nodded, though uncertainty lingered in her blue eyes. "Just thinking about these tiger creatures. If they've been experimented on, I don't know if my... abilities... will work on them. Will they react like that hybrid from before or..."
Noctis took her hand, squeezing it gently. "We'll figure it out."
As Ignis started the engine, Blaze took to the skies once more, circling above the Regalia as it pulled away from the outpost. The eagle would serve as their advance scout, his keen eyes watching for dangers ahead.
The road to the hunter's cabin wound through increasingly rugged terrain, the landscape shifting from coastal plains to rocky foothills. The conversation in the car remained subdued, each occupant lost in their own thoughts.
Prompto broke the silence eventually, unable to bear the tension any longer. "So, these tiger things... you think they're like, actual experiments? Or just mutated from the Starscourge?"
Ignis considered the question as he navigated a particularly sharp turn. "Hard to say without seeing them."
"Either way, they're in our path," Gladio rumbled from the passenger seat. "And we need to get past them."
Rachel stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past. She wondered about these creatures—what they had been before imperial intervention, what suffering they might have endured. A familiar ache of empathy stirred within her, the same feeling she'd experienced with the hybrid in the tomb.
"Maybe we can avoid fighting them altogether," she suggested quietly. "Find a way around."
Noctis glanced at her, understanding in his eyes. He knew her reluctance wasn't born of fear but of compassion—a desire to avoid unnecessary harm to creatures that were victims themselves.
"We'll try," he promised, though they all knew that sometimes conflict was unavoidable.
As the Regalia crested a hill, the imperial base came into view in the distance—a stark metal intrusion on the natural landscape.
"There it is," Prompto murmured, a hint of apprehension in his voice. "Doesn't look guarded, which is odd, right? Or they inside?"
Noctis's expression hardened as he gazed at the imperial facility. Somewhere within those walls were the enemies who had destroyed his home, killed his father, and threatened everything he held dear. His fingers tightened around Rachel's hand, drawing strength from her presence even as he prepared himself for the battle ahead.
The hunter's cabin appeared around the next bend—a small, weathered structure nestled among the trees. Ignis pulled the Regalia to a stop at a safe distance, not wanting to draw attention with the distinctive vehicle.
"We continue on foot from here," he announced, turning off the engine.
As they exited the car, Blaze descended once more, landing on the hood. The eagle's golden feathers gleamed in the afternoon sun, his intelligent eyes scanning their surroundings with predatory focus.
"Keep watch," Rachel whispered to him, stroking his head gently. Blaze responded with a soft cry before taking to the skies again, circling above them as they approached the cabin.
Cor stood waiting outside, his stern features betraying no emotion as they approached. "I see you made it past the first hurdle."
"Monica briefed us," Noctis replied. "Said something about mutant tigers?"
Cor's expression darkened slightly. "That's putting it mildly. The empire has been capturing local wildlife for experimentation. The creatures we'll encounter were once coeurl—dangerous enough in their natural state. They guard the approach to the base with remarkable efficiency."
Noctis studied the marshal's face, noting the subtle lines of concern etched around his eyes. "I take it you're coming with us?"
"On this one, I will," Cor replied with a curt nod, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana.
Prompto looked from Cor to Rachel, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "There is no chance Rach can charm those coeurls, right? I mean she charms animals, and a spider hybrid." He gestured around at the group. "She even charmed all of us." His finger pointed directly at Cor. "Including you."
Rachel let a small smile slip at his humor, warmth rising to her cheeks. Even in tense moments, Prompto had a way of lightening the atmosphere.
Cor's expression remained stoic, but something softened almost imperceptibly in his eyes. "There could be a possibility," he admitted. "Her abilities are... unique. If these creatures retain enough of their natural instincts, she might be able to reach them."
Noctis frowned, his protective instincts flaring instantly. The memory of Rachel standing between them and the spider hybrid was still fresh in his mind—the moment his heart had nearly stopped as she'd placed herself in danger.
"I don't like the idea of sending her to face them when we don't know if they can harm her or not," he said, his voice tight with concern. His hand found hers, fingers intertwining as if he could physically anchor her to safety.
Rachel squeezed his hand reassuringly before meeting his eyes. "I should give it a try," she said with quiet determination. "If there's a chance we can avoid a fight, shouldn't we take it? These creatures didn't ask to be experimented on."
Ignis adjusted his glasses, considering her words. "It would be strategically advantageous if we could pass without engaging in combat. Less risk of alerting the base to our presence."
Gladio crossed his arms, muscles tensing beneath his leather jacket. "And if it doesn't work? If these things are too far gone?"
"Then we fight," Cor stated simply. "But Rachel's abilities could give us an edge we wouldn't otherwise have."
Noctis looked at Rachel, conflict evident in his eyes. He wanted to protect her, to keep her far from danger—but he also respected her choice, her desire to help in the way only she could. Their journey had already taught him that trying to hold her back would only push her to take greater risks on her own.
"Alright," he conceded reluctantly. "But we stay close. At the first sign of danger, we pull back."
Rachel nodded, grateful for his trust despite his obvious concern. "I'll be careful," she promised.
Cor led them from the cabin, moving with the silent efficiency that had earned him his reputation. They followed a narrow trail through dense underbrush, keeping low and quiet as they approached the outer perimeter of the imperial facility.
Blaze soared overhead, his keen eyes scanning the terrain before them. The eagle's sudden change in flight pattern—a sharp bank to the east—caught Rachel's attention. She touched Cor's arm, pointing in the direction Blaze had indicated.
"There," she whispered. "I think he's spotted one."
The group halted, crouching behind a cluster of rocks for cover. Cor signaled for silence, his experienced eyes scanning the clearing ahead. After a moment, they all saw it—a massive coeurl, nearly twice the size of a natural specimen. Metal implants gleamed at the base of its whiskers, and something that looked disturbingly like a control module was embedded in the back of its skull.
"Gods," Prompto breathed, his voice barely audible. "What did they do to it?"
Rachel felt her heart constrict at the sight. The creature moved with a strange, mechanical precision that contrasted with the natural grace coeurls were known for. Its eyes—once amber, now an eerie, glowing blue—swept the clearing with calculated vigilance.
"That's our first obstacle," Cor murmured. "Two more guard the path beyond."
Noctis glanced at Rachel, concern evident in the set of his jaw. "You sure about this?"
She nodded, though uncertainty flickered through her mind. The spider hybrid had recognized something in her, had sensed her connection to the natural world. Would these altered coeurls retain enough of their original essence to respond similarly?
"I need to get closer," she whispered. "Not too close, but enough that it can sense me."
Gladio's hand moved to his greatsword. "We'll be ready if things go south."
Cor studied the coeurl's movement pattern, noting the precise way it patrolled the perimeter. "It completes a circuit every ninety seconds," he observed. "If you approach from the eastern edge, you'll have the best chance of establishing contact before it can react aggressively."
Rachel took a deep breath, steeling herself. She could feel Noctis's tension beside her, his reluctance to let her move forward alone. His hand brushed hers one last time—a silent plea for caution.
"Wait for my signal," Cor instructed, watching the coeurl complete another circuit. When the creature turned away from their position, heading toward the far side of the clearing, he nodded. "Now."
Rachel moved forward with careful steps, emerging from their cover and approaching the edge of the clearing. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, focusing on projecting calm as she had with other creatures. The coeurl's back was to her, its enhanced whiskers twitching as it scanned the opposite tree line.
Behind her, the others spread out, weapons materialized but held at ready positions. Noctis had positioned himself closest to her, his engine blade gleaming faintly in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy.
When she was about thirty feet from the coeurl, Rachel stopped and closed her eyes briefly, centering herself. She reached for that place within her that connected to the natural world—the same intuitive understanding that had allowed her to communicate with Blaze and others.
"Hello," she called softly, her voice carrying just far enough to reach the creature's enhanced hearing.
The coeurl froze mid-step, its massive body going rigid. Slowly, with predatory grace, it turned to face her, whiskers extended and crackling with electrical energy. Its glowing blue eyes fixed on her with cold, calculating intelligence that seemed more machine than animal.
For a terrible moment, Rachel thought she had made a grave mistake. The creature's posture was unmistakably aggressive, its muscles bunching as if preparing to pounce. Behind her, she could hear the subtle shift of her companions' stances as they prepared to intervene.
But then something changed in the coeurl's demeanor. Its head tilted slightly, whiskers lowering as it studied her with what appeared to be confusion. A low rumble emanated from its chest—not quite a growl, but a sound of questioning.
Rachel took a tentative step forward, hand outstretched, palm up in a gesture of peace. The coeurl regarded her with that strange mixture of mechanical calculation and animal instinct, its whiskers still crackling with suppressed energy.
"It's okay," she murmured, her voice gentle yet firm. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Behind her, Noctis shifted his weight, ready to warp-strike at the first sign of danger. Gladio's knuckles whitened around the hilt of his greatsword, while Ignis calculated the exact trajectory needed to throw his daggers if the creature lunged.
But Rachel kept moving forward, one slow step at a time, her eyes never leaving the coeurl's glowing blue gaze. There was something in those mechanical eyes—a flicker of the wild creature still trapped inside the imperial modifications.
"You remember, don't you?" she whispered. "What you were before they changed you."
The coeurl's whiskers twitched, the electrical energy dimming slightly. It made a sound—half growl, half whine—that seemed to contain both warning and confusion.
When Rachel was just a few feet away, she sank slowly to her knees, making herself smaller, less threatening. The coeurl watched her every movement, its enhanced muscles tensed beneath its spotted coat.
"Let me help you," she said, extending her hand further.
For several heartbeats, nothing happened. The forest around them seemed to hold its breath, the only sound the faint hum of electricity from the coeurl's whiskers.
Then, with a hesitation that was almost painful to witness, the creature took one step toward her, then another. Its massive head lowered, approaching her outstretched hand with wary curiosity.
Rachel remained perfectly still, her breathing calm and measured despite the danger. When the coeurl was close enough that she could feel its hot breath on her skin, she slowly, deliberately, reached up to touch its head.
The moment her fingers made contact with the coeurl's fur, a soft glow emanated from her fingertips, spreading across the creature's head like ripples in a pond. The coeurl went completely still, its eyes widening as if in shock. Gradually, the harsh blue glow began to fade, replaced by a warm amber—the natural color of a coeurl's eyes.
Rachel felt the connection forming between them—the same profound understanding she'd experienced with Blaze and other creatures. Beneath her palm, she could sense the coeurl's confusion, its pain, and the wild spirit that had been suppressed but never truly broken.
With careful movements, she reached around to examine the control module embedded in the back of its neck. The device was attached more superficially than she'd feared, likely designed for easy maintenance and battery replacement. With gentle fingers, she gripped the edges and pulled, detaching it from the creature's flesh.
The coeurl flinched as the module came free, a small whimper escaping its throat. Rachel tossed the device aside without a second glance, her attention focused entirely on the wound left behind. She placed her palm over the raw, bleeding area, and the same soft glow appeared. Under her touch, the damaged tissue began to knit together, healing at an accelerated rate until only a faint scar remained beneath the fur.
The coeurl shuddered, as if awakening from a long nightmare. It shook its massive head, whiskers waving naturally now rather than with the rigid precision of before. Stepping back, it regarded Rachel with clear amber eyes, letting out a soft call that sounded almost like gratitude.
"You're welcome," Rachel said softly, reaching out to stroke its spotted fur. The texture was coarse but warm beneath her fingers, vibrating slightly as the creature began to purr.
Behind her, Prompto's face split into an enormous grin. "This is awesome!" he whispered, already raising his camera to capture the moment. The shutter clicked quietly as he preserved the image of Rachel kneeling before the predator, her hand gentle against its fierce features.
Cor, who had witnessed many wonders in his long service to the Crown, found his carefully maintained stoicism cracking. His eyes widened slightly, genuine astonishment evident in the subtle shift of his expression. In all his years, he had never seen anything quite like this—a power so gentle yet so profound.
Ignis and Gladio exchanged glances before nodding in approval. Noctis exhaled slowly, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath. The tension drained from his shoulders as relief washed over him. She had done it—had placed herself in danger and emerged not only unharmed but triumphant. Pride and lingering concern battled within him as he watched the coeurl settle onto its haunches, allowing Rachel to continue stroking its fur.
"That's one down," Cor said quietly, his voice carrying a new note of respect as he looked at Rachel. "Two more to go."
Rachel glanced up at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "I think this one might help us with the others," she suggested, her hand still moving rhythmically through the coeurl's fur.
Understanding her words, the creature turned its head toward the path ahead, amber eyes narrowing as it detected its altered brethren in the distance. It made a low sound in its throat—not aggressive, but purposeful.
"Is it offering to lead us?" Ignis asked, adjusting his glasses as he studied the coeurl's body language.
Rachel nodded, rising slowly to her feet. "Yes. It remembers the others. It wants to help them."
Noctis approached cautiously, stopping a few feet away. The coeurl's eyes tracked him, but there was no hostility in its gaze. "Can we trust it?"
"Yes," Rachel answered without hesitation. "It understands what we're trying to do."
The coeurl made a soft chuffing sound and began to move forward, pausing after a few steps to look back at Rachel expectantly. The message was clear: follow me.
"Looks like we have our guide," Rachel said, falling into step beside the creature.
Noctis moved to her other side, his hand briefly brushing against hers—a silent gesture of support and lingering concern. "Stay close," he murmured.
They proceeded through the forest with the coeurl leading the way, its movements now fluid and natural compared to the mechanical precision of before. It led them along a narrow game trail, avoiding the main paths where imperial patrols might spot them.
After several minutes of careful progress, the coeurl halted, its muscles tensing as it peered through a gap in the foliage. Rachel followed its gaze and spotted the second altered coeurl patrolling a small clearing ahead. Like the first, it moved with unnatural rigidity, its eyes glowing that same eerie blue.
Their guide turned to Rachel, making a soft questioning sound in its throat.
"It's asking how we want to proceed," she whispered, glancing at Cor.
The marshal studied the situation with experienced eyes. "Your coeurl might be able to approach without raising alarm. The imperial programming likely includes recognition protocols for others of its kind."
Rachel nodded and placed her hand on the coeurl's shoulder. "Can you help us?" she asked softly.
The creature blinked its amber eyes once, then slipped silently into the clearing. The others watched as it approached the second coeurl with cautious steps, its posture deliberately non-threatening.
The altered coeurl paused its patrol, blue eyes focusing on the newcomer with mechanical assessment. For a moment, it seemed uncertain, the imperial programming conflicting with natural instincts as it recognized one of its own kind.
Their guide moved closer, making a series of soft vocalizations that seemed meaningful to the other creature. The second coeurl's rigid posture softened slightly, its head tilting in what appeared to be confusion.
"It's working," Prompto whispered, his camera at the ready despite the tension of the moment.
Rachel stepped forward, emerging from the cover of the trees. Noctis immediately moved to follow her, but Cor's hand on his arm held him back.
"Let her do this," the marshal said quietly. "Your presence might complicate things."
Noctis clenched his jaw but remained in place, his eyes never leaving Rachel as she approached the two coeurls. Their guide acknowledged her with a soft rumble, positioning itself between her and the altered creature in a protective stance.
The second coeurl's whiskers extended, crackling with electrical energy as it assessed this new development. Its programming identified Rachel as human—a potential threat—but the presence of the first coeurl created a contradiction it couldn't easily resolve.
Rachel moved slowly, her hands visible and her voice gentle as she spoke. "It's okay," she soothed. "I'm here to help you too."
The altered coeurl took a step back, conflicting impulses evident in its hesitant movements. The control module at the base of its skull emitted a faint, high-pitched whine as it struggled to maintain dominance over the creature's natural instincts.
Their guide made another sound—something between a growl and a purr—that seemed to resonate with the second coeurl on a primal level. The altered creature's whiskers lowered slightly, its aggressive stance softening as natural curiosity began to override imperial programming.
Rachel took advantage of this moment of uncertainty, closing the distance with careful steps. When she was within arm's reach, she extended her hand slowly, palm up as she had done with the first coeurl.
"Let me free you," she whispered.
The altered coeurl remained frozen for several heartbeats, its glowing blue eyes fixed on her face. Then, with visible reluctance, it lowered its massive head toward her outstretched hand.
The moment of contact repeated the miracle they had witnessed before. Light spread from Rachel's fingertips across the creature's head, and gradually the harsh blue glow of its eyes softened to warm amber. With the same gentle efficiency, she removed the control module and healed the wound left behind.
The second coeurl shuddered as awareness returned, shaking its head vigorously as if to clear away the last remnants of imperial control. It turned to the first coeurl, and the two touched noses in a gesture of recognition and relief.
"Two down," Gladio murmured as the others emerged from the trees to join Rachel. "One to go."
The third coeurl proved easier still. With two of its kind now accompanying them, the final altered creature responded quickly to their approach. Its imperial programming, designed to recognize allied units, prevented it from immediately identifying the freed coeurls as threats.
This time, however, when Rachel approached, the third coeurl growled menacingly, its whiskers crackling with electrical energy. The control module at the base of its skull glowed brighter, as if detecting the threat to its programming. Rachel hesitated, sensing this one had been more deeply altered than the others.
The coeurl's muscles bunched, preparing to pounce. Its blue eyes fixed on Rachel with predatory focus, the imperial modifications overriding any natural instinct that might have recognized her intentions.
But before it could strike, the two freed coeurls moved swiftly, positioning themselves between Rachel and their still-captive kin. They made no aggressive moves, simply standing firm, their amber eyes communicating something only another coeurl could understand.
The third creature hesitated, confused by this unexpected development. Its programming hadn't accounted for confronting its own kind in a protective stance around a human. The control module whined as it attempted to process this contradiction.
Rachel took advantage of the moment, stepping carefully around the protective coeurls. "It's okay," she murmured, not to the altered creature but to her companions. "Let me try."
Noctis tensed, ready to summon his weapon at the slightest provocation. "Rachel—" he began, his voice tight with concern.
"Trust me," she said without looking back, her focus entirely on the confused creature before her.
The third coeurl backed up a step, growling low in its throat. But the presence of the other two kept it from fleeing or attacking outright. Rachel moved closer, her hand extended, reaching not for its head but for the space between them—an invitation rather than a demand.
"I know you're afraid," she said softly. "I know it hurts. Let me help you."
For a long, tense moment, the coeurl remained frozen in indecision. Then, with visible reluctance, it lowered its head, not quite touching her but allowing her to close the final distance.
Rachel's fingers made contact with its forehead. The connection formed instantly—a rush of sensations and emotions flowing between them. This coeurl's pain was deeper, its modifications more extensive, but beneath the imperial technology, the wild creature remained.
The familiar glow spread from Rachel's fingertips, and gradually the harsh blue of the coeurl's eyes softened to amber. It blinked, recognition and awareness returning as the imperial control faded.
With gentle movements, Rachel reached behind its head, finding the control module embedded at the base of its skull. This one was attached more deeply, integrated with the creature's nervous system in ways the others had not been. She worked carefully, her fingers glowing softly as she disconnected the device from living tissue.
When the module came free, the coeurl let out a sound that was half-growl, half-whimper. Blood welled from the deeper wound, but Rachel placed her palm over it, the same healing light spreading beneath her touch until the injury closed, leaving only a small scar beneath the fur.
The coeurl shook itself vigorously, as if throwing off the last vestiges of imperial control. It turned to the other two, and all three touched noses in a gesture of recognition and shared experience.
Rachel stepped back, her expression a mixture of satisfaction and weariness. The energy required to heal three creatures in such quick succession had taken its toll.
"You're free now," she told them softly, her voice carrying genuine compassion. "You can go. Find somewhere safe, away from here."
The coeurls regarded her with intelligent amber eyes. The first one—their guide—stepped forward and briefly pressed its massive head against her shoulder in what seemed like a gesture of gratitude. Then, with a flick of its whiskers, it turned and bounded into the forest. The other two followed, their movements fluid and natural once more as they disappeared into the undergrowth.
Rachel swayed slightly, the effort catching up with her. Noctis was at her side instantly, his arm around her waist providing steady support.
"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his eyes scanning her face with concern.
She nodded, leaning against him briefly. "Just a little tired. It takes more out of me each time, but I recover quick."
Ignis adjusted his glasses, his analytical mind already incorporating this new information. "The path to the base should be clear now. We should proceed while we have the advantage."
Gladio nodded in agreement. "Those cats bought us a window. Let's not waste it."
With Rachel recovered enough to continue, the group moved forward through the forest. Blaze circled overhead, his keen eyes scanning for any remaining threats. The path led them to the rear of the imperial base, where the security was lighter—focused primarily on the main entrance and the road approaches.
A simple chain-link fence marked the perimeter here, with no obvious surveillance cameras or motion sensors. Cor studied it with experienced eyes, then pointed to a section partially obscured by overgrown vegetation.
"There," he said quietly. "That's our entry point."
Gladio stepped forward, drawing his massive blade. With two precise cuts, he created an opening large enough for them to pass through single file. Cor went first, followed by Ignis, then Rachel, with Noctis close behind her. Prompto and Gladio brought up the rear, the latter pausing to arrange the cut fence in a way that would not immediately reveal their intrusion.
Once inside the perimeter, they crouched low, using stacks of supply crates for cover as they assessed the situation. The base was surprisingly quiet—no patrols visible in this section, no sounds of machinery or voices.
"Something's not right," Cor murmured, his experienced eyes scanning the eerily quiet facility. "This level of security is too light for an imperial base of this size."
Noctis glanced at Rachel, his protective instincts flaring as he considered the unusual silence. "You should stay right here," he said in a low voice. "We'll scout ahead and come back for you when it's safe."
Rachel's blue eyes flashed with determination. "No way," she replied firmly. "I came all the way here, and I won't stay put while you all risk your lives. I can help."
Gladio let out a soft chuckle, clapping Noctis on the shoulder. "You heard her, Noct."
Noctis sighed, knowing that stubborn set of Rachel's jaw too well to argue further. Once she made up her mind, there was little chance of changing it.
They moved cautiously through the outer grounds, staying low and using the scattered equipment and storage containers for cover. The facility's buildings loomed ahead—stark metal structures with few windows, their purpose as clinical as their design.
"Where's everyone?" Prompto whispered, voicing the question that had been growing in all their minds. "Shouldn't there be, like, guards and technicians and stuff?"
Above them, Blaze circled in a tightening spiral, his golden wings catching the sunlight. Suddenly, the eagle let out a sharp, urgent cry—a warning call that cut through the unnatural silence of the base.
Rachel's head snapped up, instantly interpreting the eagle's message. "Ambush!" she hissed, stepping back instinctively toward Noctis.
Before anyone could react further, the seemingly empty space around them transformed. Metal panels slid open in the ground, revealing concealed compartments from which imperial soldiers emerged with mechanical precision. Others appeared from behind crates and equipment, their weapons trained on the group.
Within seconds, they were completely surrounded.
The five men moved with practiced efficiency, weapons materializing in flashes of crystalline light. Cor's katana gleamed in the sunlight, Gladio's massive sword rested on his shoulder, Ignis's daggers twirled between nimble fingers, and Prompto leveled his pistol at the nearest soldier. Noctis summoned his Engine Blade, the royal arms circling him momentarily before fading into spectral outlines.
Noctis's free hand moved to Rachel's wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he positioned himself slightly in front of her. The message was clear—stay close, stay behind me.
"Well, well," a smug voice called out. "What an unexpected pleasure."
A young man in an elaborate imperial uniform strode forward, his posture radiating arrogance. Loqi Tummelt, brigadier general of the Niflheim forces, surveyed them with undisguised contempt, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"The would-be king and his entourage," Loqi continued, his gaze sweeping over the group before settling on Rachel. His eyebrows rose slightly. "And a new face. How interesting. She looks a bit like Lady Lunafreya."
Noctis's grip tightened on Rachel's wrist, his body shifting subtly to place himself between her and Loqi. The protective gesture wasn't lost on the imperial officer.
Loqi's eyes widened in sudden recognition. "Well... look at that," he muttered.
Noctis tensed beside Rachel, his grip on her wrist tightening protectively. "Stay behind me," he murmured, his voice low and urgent.
Loqi turned to the robotic soldiers surrounding them, his voice ringing with authority. "Get rid of them," he ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but bring Lady Flora and Prince Noctis to me alive." He pivoted on his heel, striding away toward an elevated platform where he could observe the coming battle from a safe distance.
The magitek troops moved forward with mechanical precision, weapons raised as they closed in on the group. Ignis and Gladio shifted positions, forming a protective semicircle around Rachel while Cor and Prompto readied themselves for the attack.
But before the first shot could be fired, a piercing cry echoed from above. All eyes—human and mechanical alike—turned skyward.
Blaze, who had been circling overhead as a golden eagle, suddenly burst into brilliant flame. His wings expanded, the fire spreading across his body until he was completely engulfed. The flames reshaped themselves, growing larger, more magnificent, until they revealed his true form—a majestic phoenix with plumage of crimson and gold that seemed to shimmer with inner fire.
Rachel gasped, her eyes wide with wonder and shock. Though she had always known Blaze was special, seeing him transform into this legendary creature left her breathless. Memories flickered through her mind—a childhood companion, a guardian who had always been there, watching over her even when she hadn't known who she truly was.
Loqi's face contorted with surprise and fear. "Impossible," he breathed, taking an involuntary step backward as the phoenix descended toward them in a blazing spiral.
Blaze dove toward the magitek troops, his fiery wings spread wide. Where he passed, soldiers burst into flames, their mechanical bodies melting under the intense heat. He let out another cry—triumphant and fierce—as he cut a burning path through their ranks.
"Rachel, hide!" Noctis shouted as he gently pushed her toward a nearby stack of crates. "We'll handle this!"
For once, Rachel didn't argue. She darted behind the crates, her mind still reeling from the revelation of Blaze's true nature. From her position, she could see the battle unfold as Noctis and the others leapt into action.
Cor moved with lethal precision, his katana slicing through magitek armor as if it were paper. Gladio's massive sword swept in wide arcs, sending multiple soldiers flying with each powerful swing. Ignis darted between enemies, his daggers finding the weak points in their mechanical bodies with unerring accuracy. Prompto had recovered from his shock and was now picking off distant targets with well-placed shots from his pistol.
And at the center of it all was Noctis, warping from one enemy to the next in flashes of blue light. The royal arms circled him briefly as he called upon the power of his ancestors, ripping through the imperial forces with devastating efficiency.
Above the battlefield, Blaze continued his assault, diving and weaving between enemies, his fiery presence making it impossible for imperial reinforcements to approach from the air. Loqi watched in growing dismay as his forces were decimated.
Rachel peered around the edge of the crates, her heart racing as she watched the battle unfold. Part of her wanted to join the fight, to help in some way, but she knew her skills weren't in combat.
The battle intensified around them. Loqi, seeing his forces failing, rushed to a nearby magitek armor unit—a massive mechanical suit designed for heavy combat. With practiced movements, he climbed into the cockpit, the armor coming to life with a hydraulic hiss.
Noctis spotted the new threat immediately. "Gladio, Ignis—with me!" he called, already moving toward the magitek armor with determined strides. "Prompto, cover us!"
Cor dispatched the last of the soldiers near him and turned toward Rachel's position. "Stay down," he ordered, his stern gaze softening slightly as he caught her eye. "This isn't over yet."
Rachel nodded, though frustration burned within her. She was tired of hiding, tired of being protected while others risked their lives. She was Flora Nox Fleuret, daughter of Tenebrae's royal family.
As Noctis and the others engaged Loqi's magitek armor, trading blows and dodging missile fire, Rachel closed her eyes and reached deep within herself. The power she had used to communicate with animals, to heal the coeurls—there had to be more she could do with it.
Rachel felt something stir within her—a power dormant for so long it had almost been forgotten. She pressed her palms against the ground, feeling the earth beneath the cold metal of the imperial base. There was life there, dormant but present, waiting to be awakened.
The connection formed instantly, stronger than anything she had experienced before. Rachel's eyes closed as she focused, channeling her energy downward. Her fingertips began to glow with a soft, green light that seeped into the ground beneath her.
Everyone froze as the earth began to tremble. Noctis, in mid-warp toward Loqi's magitek armor, materialized and stumbled slightly as the ground shifted beneath his feet. Ignis and Gladio halted their advance, exchanging bewildered glances as the vibrations intensified.
Loqi's confident smirk faltered. "What is this? An earthquake?" His fingers flew across the armor's controls, scanning for the source of the disturbance.
Before anyone could react, the concrete in front of the magitek armor cracked. Two enormous vines, thick as tree trunks and vibrant green despite the barren surroundings, erupted from the ground. They shot upward with astonishing speed, twisting and writhing like living things as they wrapped themselves around the mechanical behemoth.
"What the—" Loqi's panicked voice cut through the armor's speakers as the vines tightened their grip. Metal groaned and buckled under the immense pressure, hydraulic fluid spraying from ruptured lines.
Noctis stood transfixed, his Engine Blade hanging forgotten at his side as he watched the vines crush the armor with inexorable force. Cor's usual stoicism had given way to open astonishment, his eyes wide as he tracked the impossible scene before him. Prompto's camera hung limp in his hands, the photographer too stunned even to document the moment. Ignis and Gladio remained motionless, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief.
Inside the cockpit, warning lights flashed across Loqi's control panel as the armor's integrity failed. With a curse, he slammed his fist against the emergency release. The cockpit hatch blew open, and he leapt clear just as a section of the armor imploded with a shriek of tortured metal.
Loqi hit the ground running, not even pausing to look back as his prized weapon was crushed into scrap. He disappeared around a corner, his survival instincts overriding any thought of continuing the fight.
The vines continued their work, squeezing until the magitek armor collapsed in on itself with a final, decisive crunch. Only then did they slowly relax their grip, gradually uncoiling from the destroyed machine.
Silence fell across the battlefield. The robotic soldiers lay in smoking heaps, victims of Blaze's fiery assault and the group's coordinated attack. Loqi was gone, fled into the depths of the base. The immediate danger had passed.
Their attention turned to Rachel as she emerged shakily from her hiding place. Her face was pale, perspiration beading on her forehead as she took unsteady steps forward. The tremendous effort of channeling such power for the first time in twelve years had drained her completely.
Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees on the cracked concrete. The world spun around her, darkness creeping at the edges of her vision. She could feel the earth beneath her, still humming with residual energy from her connection.
Noctis was the first to move, breaking into a run. He reached her side in seconds, kneeling beside her and placing his hands gently on her arms to steady her. His eyes searched her face, concern etched into every feature.
"Rachel," he said urgently, his voice low. "Are you alright?"
Above them, Blaze descended in a spiral of fading embers. As he approached, his magnificent phoenix form diminished, flames receding until only the golden eagle remained. He landed beside them, his intelligent eyes fixed on Rachel with what almost seemed like pride.
"I'm okay," Rachel managed, though her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Just... tired."
Cor, Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis rushed over, forming a protective circle around Rachel and Noctis. Prompto knelt on her other side, his usual carefree expression replaced with genuine concern.
"I'm fine," Rachel said softly, though the pallor of her skin and the slight tremor in her hands told a different story. "Just need a minute. I'm not used to this."
Cor studied her with experienced eyes. He understood immediately why she was so drained—power of this magnitude extracted a heavy toll from its wielder. "Was that the first time you've used this kind of power since you were six? Since before Tenebrae fell?"
Rachel nodded weakly, her blonde hair clinging to her damp forehead. "Yes," she whispered. "First time."
Cor exchanged glances with Ignis, both men recognizing the implications.
"The dormancy of such abilities for twelve years explains your exhaustion," Cor explained, his typically stern voice gentling slightly. "Like a muscle left unused, it drains your energy more quickly when suddenly called upon." He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "You need rest. Until you've regained your strength, you cannot use powers like this—or even healing—or you risk complete collapse."
The warning hung heavy in the air between them. Noctis tightened his grip on Rachel's hand, his jaw clenching at the thought of how close she might have come to something worse than mere exhaustion.
All five men surveyed the destruction with somber expressions. The massive vines still protruded from the fractured concrete like the tentacles of some ancient, slumbering beast—a testament to the raw potential Rachel possessed, and the danger it posed to her if misused.
What the Sea Demands: Chapter 2 - A Warrior's Shadow
Series Masterlist
Chapter 1, Chapter 3
Pairing: Male Neytiri (Tìran) x female reader
Na'vi warriors soared through the dense forest atop their ikrans, their determined cries echoed through the canopy. Tìran led the charge with Elena by his side, and their two sons flying beside them.
As they approached the looming presence of the RDA train, Tìran's voice crackled over the communicator. "Mì helku sìlronsem, zerkrr!" Ground team, move out!
With a thunderous roar, the warriors on direhorses surged forward, their weapons at the ready. Some wielded bazookas, unleashing destruction upon the train tracks, while others charged with ferocity, their battle cries piercing the air.
The train shuddered and groaned under the assault, its metal frame buckling and breaking as it careened off the tracks, sending debris flying in all directions.
The accompanying RDA ships moved to retaliate, but before they could react, Tsu'tey flew in with his ikran, sending an arrow to the ships' vulnerable points with deadly precision.
Tìlara let loose her arrow with deadly accuracy, taking down the RDA soldier manning the machine gun before swiftly dispatching the pilot, sending the ship hurtling towards the ground in a fiery blaze.
The cheers of victory erupted from the Na'vi warriors as they celebrated the destruction they had wrought upon their oppressors. Elena wasted no time in rallying her comrades, urging them to seize the moment and gather the spoils of their hard-won victory.
"Tìlara, help grab the weapons!" Elena called.
"Alright!"
As they swiftly moved to collect the weapons and resources from the wreckage, Elena remained vigilant, her eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger. Meanwhile, her sons, Neteyam and Lo'ak, circled overhead on their ikrans.
Lo'ak glanced at Neteyam, the blue stripes on his cheeks bright in the sunrise, his eyes wide with the hunger to prove himself. "Bro. We gotta get down there."
Neteyam, wary as ever, shoulders tense in the saddle of his ikran. "No way! Mom and Dad will skin us!" His hand flexed unconsciously on the grip of his bow, an old habit from drills with Tìran.
Lo'ak only grinned. "Come on. Don't be a wuss."
Lo'ak banked his ikran sharply, diving toward the burning wreckage below before Neteyam could stop him. His banshee screeched as it cut through the smoke-filled air, wings folding tightly against its body.
"Lo'ak!" Neteyam shouted after him, exasperation immediately flooding his voice. "Get back here, you skxawng!"
His brother ignored him completely.
With an irritated groan, Neteyam yanked on his ikran's reins and followed, descending fast through the haze of smoke and drifting ash.
Below them, the Na'vi warriors moved quickly through the destroyed train, dragging open cargo containers and hauling out weapons before more RDA reinforcements could arrive.
"Take the whole case!" Norm shouted toward the warriors while helping another scientist pull open a metal crate. "Grab the mags, the RPGs, the stingers—we're taking everything!"
The brothers' ikrans landed hard beside the wreckage, claws scraping against twisted metal. Lo'ak jumped down first, already sprinting toward the overturned cargo.
"Bro, come on!" he called excitedly over his shoulder. "Look at all this!"
"Lo'ak!" Neteyam ran after him, weaving through smoke and debris. "Dad said stay in the air!"
Lo'ak barely listened. He reached one of the open containers and grabbed a human rifle, turning it over in fascination while checking the weight of it in his hands.
Neteyam finally caught up, glaring. "You don't even know how to use that thing."
A grin spread across Lo'ak's face as he pulled back the reload mechanism with more confidence than caution. "Mom taught me."
Above them, two ikrans descended through the smoke and landed beside the wreckage in powerful gusts of wind. Tìran leapt from his saddle beside Elena, moving toward her instinctively before his eyes landed on the two familiar boys standing near the train.
His entire expression hardened. "Boy—"
A sharp cry suddenly cut through the battlefield.
Elena's head snapped upward instantly. "Gunship inbound!"
The sound hit a second later—the deafening roar of engines tearing through the sky.
RDA ships burst from the smoke overhead, missiles launching toward the ground below. Na'vi warriors scattered immediately, shouting warnings as explosions erupted around the wreckage.
"Lo'ak, move!" Neteyam shouted.
"Bro, come on!"
The missile struck nearby with a violent explosion.
The blast wave hurled both boys through the air like rag dolls. Metal screamed apart. Smoke and dirt exploded upward in a massive cloud that swallowed everything whole.
A nearby Na'vi warrior fired a bazooka skyward, the projectile streaking through the smoke before slamming directly into one of the gunships. The ship burst apart in flames and spiraled into the forest beyond.
Tìran was already running before the debris had even settled. "Lo'ak!" he shouted through the smoke, panic bleeding into his voice. "Neteyam!"
Shapes moved through the haze.
He found Lo'ak first, coughing hard as he pushed himself off the ground. Tìran grabbed him immediately, checking him over with frantic hands. "You hurt?"
Lo'ak shook his head quickly. "No."
"Where is your brother?"
Lo'ak pointed weakly toward the burning wreckage. "Over there."
Tìran's stomach dropped. "Go to your mother," he ordered sharply. "Now."
Then he ran. He climbed over shattered metal and burning debris, barely noticing the heat biting into his skin. "Neteyam!"
No answer.
Then he saw the blood smeared across the twisted metal.
His breath caught instantly.
"Oh, no," he whispered. "No... no, no, no."
He jumped down from the wreckage and followed the trail desperately until he reached a fallen warrior lying motionless in the dirt.
Tìran dropped to his knees and turned the body over.
Not Neteyam.
Relief hit him for only a second before terror returned full force.
He moved again, faster this time.
Another body lay nearby, half-hidden beneath debris.
Tìran reached him and carefully turned him over.
Neteyam.
Alive.
The boy groaned weakly, blinking through the dust. "Dad...?"
Relief nearly buckled Tìran's knees.
His hands immediately moved to Neteyam's side, checking for injuries while anger and fear tangled violently together in his chest.
"What are you doing here?" Tìran demanded harshly. "What were you thinking?"
"I'm sorry," Neteyam whispered shakily.
Tìran closed his eyes briefly, overwhelmed for a single moment by the crushing realization of how close he had come to losing his son.
Without another word, he pulled Neteyam onto his back and tightened his grip beneath the boy's legs.
Then Tìran let out a loud, piercing call.
A moment later, his ikran burst through the smoke overhead, answering immediately to its rider's voice.
~~~~~~~~~
During the year, as a result of fighting back against the RDA, the Omatikaya clan and other human resistance members have since moved away from the forest up to High Camp for safety; a hidden stronghold located within the Hallelujah Mountains inside the cavern of one of the larger floating mountains.
Now, Tuk was walking around the settlement playing with a wooden toruk toy. "Attack, attack! Got ya!"
Tuk moved between a doctor and a na'vi, not paying attention as she played. "Tuk!" the female doctor called. "Come on!
"Hyah!"
Meanwhile, Kiri was helping Spider paint blue stripes on his body with spartan fruit dye.
"I'm definitely faster when I'm blue," Spider announced confidently.
Kiri laughed softly without looking up from her work. "Skxawng."
"No, seriously," Spider insisted. "The animals respect me more too. They don't think of me as human."
That made Kiri pause. Slowly, she lifted her eyes toward him with exaggerated surprise. "Wait," she said dramatically. "You're human?"
"Ha-ha."
Before Kiri could tease him again, a familiar cry echoed through the cavern as several ikrans screeched overhead.
Tuk froze instantly. Her eyes widened with excitement before she spun around and sprinted toward them, nearly dropping her toy in the process. "They're coming!" she exclaimed joyfully, her voice carrying through the crowd as she dashed towards her sister and Spider. "They're coming! Kiri, Spider! The war party's coming back! Come on, come on."
Together, they made their way to the edge of the settlement, where the war party arrived, their faces alight with triumph and camaraderie.
As Tìran flew into the base alongside the rest of the party, he held Neteyam close to him. As they landed, Tìran carefully helped Neteyam off the ikran. Elena dismounted from her own ikran, and Tuk's joyful call drew her attention.
"Mom!" Tuk's voice rang out, filled with excitement and relief as she ran closer.
Elena smiled softly as she opened her arms, welcoming her younger daughter into a warm embrace. "Tuk..." she murmured.
As Lo'ak landed and dismounted from his ikran, Tìran's voice cut through the moment, firm and commanding. "Get over here." Lo'ak and Neteyam stood in front of their father. Kiri approached and looked at Neteyam in concern. "You're supposed to be spotters. That was the agreement. You spot the Sky People, and you call us. From a distance! I let you two fly a mission and you disobey my order."
Neteyam straightened despite the blood staining his side, forcing himself to meet his father's stare. "Dad," he said quietly, "I take full responsibility."
Tìran's ears flicked back sharply. "You are the older brother," he said sharply. "Start acting like it." He gestured toward Lo'ak without looking away from Neteyam. "Do not let Lo'ak's recklessness pull you down with him. You are supposed to keep him steady—not follow him into danger."
Neteyam lowered his gaze slightly, shame flickering across his features.
Beside him, Lo'ak looked down at the ground in silence. The words struck deeper than Tìran probably intended. Deep down, the old feeling twisted painfully inside his chest once again—that no matter how hard he tried, he always disappointed them somehow.
Elena noticed immediately. Her eyes softened for only a moment before she looked toward Tìran, a faint frown touching her face.
"Tìran," she said quietly. "Your son is bleeding."
She nodded toward Neteyam's injured side.
Neteyam shook his head quickly. "Mother, I'm fine. I..."
"Go," Tìran said, his tone calmer now, though still stern. "Go with Kiri and Tuk. Get patched up."
Neteyam nodded without arguing further.
Kiri immediately moved to his side, concern written openly across her face, while Tuk hovered anxiously. Together, the three of them began walking back toward the healers.
Spider passed by at the same moment, already moving toward the ikrans to calm and tend to them after the battle.
Tìran's attention shifted to Lo'ak. "Do you understand," he asked heavily, "that you nearly got your brother killed?"
Lo'ak swallowed hard. "Yes, Father."
Elena stepped forward then, resting a gentle hand against Tìran's arm before the tension could sharpen further. "Tìran," she said softly. "Let me handle this." Her yellow eyes met his steadily. "Go speak with Tsu'tey. I'm sure the two of you need to discuss what happened out there."
For a moment, Tìran remained tense beneath her touch.
Then he exhaled slowly through his nose and gave a reluctant nod.
Without another word, he turned and walked away through the settlement toward the other warriors.
Elena watched Tìran disappear before turning her attention back to Lo'ak. "You understand that after today, you're grounded, for a month," she said softly.
Lo'ak nodded, avoiding her eyes. "Yes, Mother."
Elena stepped closer and rested a hand gently against his cheek. Her expression softened slightly as she studied him. "Are you hurt?"
Lo'ak shook his head. "No."
"Good." Elena lowered her hand. "Now go help Spider with the ikrans. All of them. And get that paint off your face."
"Okay."
Lo'ak headed toward the ikrans quietly while Elena finally turned and walked deeper into the settlement.
As he approached, Txur lowered his head with a soft rumble and nudged Lo'ak gently in the shoulder, clearly sensing his mood. Lo'ak let out a quiet breath, resting his hand briefly against his mother's ikran's scales.
Spider glanced over while checking part of an ikran harness. "You really know how to make your parents panic, huh?"
Lo'ak rolled his eyes a little, though the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "Yeah, yeah."
Spider smirked faintly and tossed him a cloth. "Come on, skxawng. Help me before your mom grounds me too. Again."
A small laugh finally escaped Lo'ak as the two boys started to work together.
Another World: Chapter 18 - The High Commander's Vow
Series Masterlist
Chapter 17, Chapter 19
Pairing: Noctis Lucis Caelum x female reader
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
"So, the prince eludes death. And what of the elusive ring?"
In Zegnautus Keep, on the throne, admiring his stolen Crystal, Iedolas meets with his military commanders—Ravus Nox Fleuret, Aranea Highwind, Caligo Ulldor, and Verstael Besithia.
"Lunafreya has absconded with it," Ravus answered with a scowl.
"Find and kill her," Iedolas ordered, "The ring is the final piece."
There was a paused which Verstael Besithia broke, "We may do well to take her alive." Ravus, Aranea Highwind and Caligo Ulldor glanced at him. "The Six wield power beyond our imagination. The Oracle holds the key for the King. She could unlock many secrets, nay High Commander?" Verstael glanced at Ravus, smirking. "Perhaps, she will finally come clean to where she managed to hid Lady Flora for 12 years?" Ravus was surprised but quickly masked his face as he looked at him. "I was told by some of our survives they saw a young lady with the prince and his little friends. She looked a lot like Lunafreya." He smirked again, "Have you walked outside lately? Nature seem... unusually alive."
"Find her and bring her to me," Iedolas said calmly.
Verstael nodded a little and glanced at Ravus again, "Lord Ravus, the imperial army is now at your disposal."
"A moat point while the fugitives remain at large," Ravus said, glaring slightly at the old man. He looked back at Iedolas, "My men and I will continue our search for the prince, Flora and the Oracle."
"So glorious... my Crystal..." Iedolas murmured as he looked up.
Ravus's magitek arm whirred softly as he clenched his fist, the metal plates shifting against each other with a sound like distant thunder. His jaw tightened as he stood before the Emperor, struggling to maintain his composure. The thought of his sisters being hunted—of Flora, whom he'd believed lost for so long, exiled by their sister, now finally found only to be threatened—sent a wave of cold fury through him that was nearly impossible to contain.
Aranea watched him from her position nearby, noting the telltale signs of his anger. The slight twitch at the corner of his eye, the rigid set of his shoulders beneath his white uniform. She said nothing, her face an impassive mask that revealed none of her thoughts. She knew better than most how deeply he cared for his sisters, how that devotion burned at the core of everything he did. Noctis and his retinue were merely obstacles to be removed, but Luna and Flora—they were everything.
When the meeting concluded with Iedolas's dismissive wave, Ravus turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, his coat billowing behind him like a storm cloud. His footsteps echoed against the marble floors of the imperial palace, each one precise and controlled despite the rage boiling inside him.
Aranea followed at a discreet distance, her dragoon armor making surprisingly little noise as she matched his pace. Ravus never looked back, but the slight adjustment in his stride told her he was aware of her presence. He had always possessed an uncanny awareness of his surroundings—a survival instinct honed by years of living among those he considered enemies.
They traversed the long corridors of the palace in silence, passing imperial guards who snapped to attention as the High Commander approached. None dared to meet his heterochromatic gaze, sensing perhaps the dangerous currents running beneath his controlled exterior.
When they reached his quarters, Ravus pushed open the ornate door without hesitation. Aranea slipped in behind him and closed it firmly, engaging the lock with a practiced flick of her wrist.
While Ravus immediately began pacing like a caged animal, Aranea moved to perch on the edge of his bed, crossing one leg over the other. Her eyes tracked his movement, noting the rigid set of his shoulders beneath his white uniform.
"So," she began, leaning back on her palms, "Flora's alive and hanging out with Prince Charming. That's good news, right?"
Ravus stopped his pacing and fixed Aranea with a look that would have made most of the Imperial High Command blanch. She held his gaze, unflinching.
"It isn't good news, Ari. If Verstael Besithia has his sights set on Flora, she won't be safe for long."
Aranea shrugged, the movement lazy and deliberate. "You got nothing to worry about. The prince and his buddies? They're practically babysitting her. She's safer with them than stuck in a lab." She leaned back on her hands, tilting her head. "Better than being presumed dead, isn't it?"
Ravus stalked to the vast window overlooking the city, the lights of Niflheim crackling against the smog-choked sky. He gripped the edge of his desk, magitek fingers leaving shallow dents in the wood. "She'll be used. You know Verstael. Having the Oracle in the empire's hands is a nightmare, but Flora—"
He fell silent. The words tasted like ash.
Aranea's voice was unusually gentle. "No one else ever had that kind of power in your bloodline. Not even your mother, right?"
Ravus nodded, not turning. "She is unique. The only one who can commune with the planet, the only one who can bend the will of wild things. If the empire gets her—"
"They'll make her a weapon," Aranea finished for him. "Like they do with everything else that's alive."
Aranea watched him in silence, then pushed off the edge of the bed and crossed the room. Her gloved fingers closed gently around Ravus's upper arm—not the magitek replacement but the human one, the one that still bore the faded scars of the Fleuret line. He flinched, just barely, but didn't pull away. Aranea circled to stand before him, blocking the city view and forcing him to look at her.
"You knew," she said, her voice low and even. "All this time, you never gave up because you knew Flora was alive somewhere."
Ravus looked at her, his mismatched eyes sharp as glass. He said nothing, but the denial she expected didn't come. Instead, his features softened, the muscles in his jaw relaxing for the first time in hours.
"Lunafreya sent her away after our mother's death," he said at last, his voice a raw whisper. "She hid Flora so well not even I could find her. Not even after the empire razed everything. She never told me where she hid her."
Aranea's hand trailed from his arm to his cheek. "She did what she had to," she said, her words carrying no accusation. "It was the only way to keep her safe. From the empire, from you, from everyone."
He glared down at her, the old bitterness igniting in his eyes, but Aranea only lifted her brows in a show of unrepentant honesty.
"Don't look at me like that, Rav," she continued, dropping her hand but not backing away. "You know I'm right. If Flora saw you now—if she saw what the empire made you into—she wouldn't even recognize her big brother."
The words landed. There was an ugly truth in them, and they both knew it. Twelve years had passed since the invasion, and the boy who once built snow-entombed gardens for his sisters in Tenebrae was gone. In his place stood a man armored in bitterness and magitek, an instrument of imperial will.
"She was six," Aranea said, voice suddenly soft. "A six-year-old, exiled from her home, sent to gods knows where with nothing but a memory and a prayer that her brother and sister were not dead. She's eighteen now, right? How much do you think she remembers of you? Of Lunafreya? Of anything that happened before that night?"
Ravus didn't answer. He couldn't. The possibility that Flora might not even know his face anymore—that she might see him only as a high commander, a weapon of the enemy—was a wound that refused to close.
Aranea stepped back, arms crossing as she watched him process the pain. "You want my advice?" she said, the edge returning to her tone. "Let the prince keep her. At least with him there's a shot she gets to be a person, not a test subject here."
For several long seconds, Ravus stared at the lights of the imperial capital below, every line of his body rigid. Then he released the desk and straightened, the mask of command settling back over his features with a visible effort.
"I will not let the empire have her," he said, his voice quiet but absolute. "Nor the Lucian prince. I will find Flora myself."
Aranea regarded him with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant admiration. "You're an idiot," she muttered, shaking her head. "But you're my idiot, so I'll help. I always do."
Ravus turned toward her. "Shouldn't you be focusing on your own missions? The emperor assigned you to the Western Front."
Aranea's lips curved into a sly smile. "Funny coming from you. Last I checked, you're not exactly following your orders either." Her finger traced a path from his cheek, drifting down to his lips, lingering there before continuing along the sharp line of his jaw. "You've told me quite a lot today, Rav. More than you've ever shared before." Her voice dropped to a whisper, teasing and intimate. "What exactly do you want me to do with all this information, besides keep letting me seduce you?"
The air between them changed instantly, charged with something beyond the political machinations that surrounded them daily. Ravus remained perfectly still, his eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that would have made a lesser woman step back. But Aranea had never been afraid of him—not of his rank, his power, or the darkness that sometimes threatened to consume him.
"You presume much, Commodore," he said, his voice low and controlled despite the heat rising beneath his collar.
Aranea's laugh was soft and knowing. She pressed closer, the edges of her armor brushing against his pristine white uniform. "I presume nothing. I observe." Her hand moved to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath layers of imperial regalia. "Your sister is alive. The one person you've been searching for all these years. And now you need someone you can trust."
Ravus's human hand came up to cover hers, not to remove it but to hold it in place. "And you believe yourself to be that person?"
"I know I am." Her confidence was absolute, born of years fighting alongside him, watching his back when others would have gladly plunged a dagger into it. "We both know it. The question is whether you're finally ready to admit it."
Ravus didn't answer, but the lines of his face eased, the cold edge in his eyes dulling to a weary resolve. She was right—of course she was. In this den of imperial wolves, Aranea Highwind had never once failed him, never held his worst secrets to ransom, never used his pain as an angle for power. She had watched him spiral after Tenebrae, had seen up close the way grief hollowed him out, and, days earlier, had been the sole witness to his lowest humiliation: waking in a medical ward, his left arm gone, replaced with the rough prototype of a magitek blade humming with unfamiliar energy. It was Aranea who had been there as the anesthesia wore off, who coaxed him back from the brink while the surgeons smoked in the corridor and wagered on whether he would kill himself or them first.
She stood close, her hand still on his chest and his human palm pressed atop it, the warmth of her skin grounding him as the city lights played across her armor.
"What do you need me to do, Rav?" she asked, her voice stripped of all bravado.
He looked at her, really looked, and allowed himself a moment of abject honesty. "Watch over Flora," he said, the words ragged in his throat. "From a distance. Step in if that boy and his retinue cannot protect her."
Aranea nodded, the motion barely perceptible. "I can do that," she said, softer than he'd ever heard her. "I'll go this afternoon. Use the field channel."
He nodded, understanding the code: private comms, untraceable, unsanctioned. Her hand drifted up his chest to the line of his collar, thumb brushing the rough edge of a healing scar.
"Be careful," Ravus said, his voice low but urgent, a command softened only by the concern beneath it.
Aranea's lips curved into that familiar half-smile, the one that had always managed to irritate and captivate him in equal measure. "I always am," she replied, her eyes never leaving his.
Before he could respond, she leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss right next to his lips—close enough to feel the warmth of his skin, yet deliberately missing his mouth. Ravus froze, his body suddenly rigid beneath her touch, caught between instinct and propriety.
Aranea lingered, her lips a breath away from his. "Try not to get yourself killed while I'm gone," she murmured, the threat and the affection perfectly balanced in her tone. "Or do, if you want to make me the next high commander." Her hands slid up to cup his shoulders, fingers digging in with that peculiar blend of violence and tenderness that only she could muster.
Ravus smirked, the cynicism in his eyes tempered by something softer. "I have no intention of dying," he replied, voice hoarse in a way he hoped she wouldn't notice.
Aranea's hands trailed up his neck, one thumb flicking at the sensitive skin just below his ear. "Don't miss me too much," she said, her words sly but her gaze holding steady. "I'll see you soon, Rav. Try to stay civil until then."
Ravus hummed thoughtfully, regarding Aranea with narrowed eyes. "And what will this assistance cost me, Commodore Highwind?"
Aranea smirked, the expression both playful and dangerous. She hummed, mimicking his thoughtful tone with deliberate mockery. "Think of it as a favor between friends, for now."
"We're friends now?" Ravus asked, a hint of amusement softening the hard lines of his face.
Aranea trailed one of her hands down to his chest, her fingers lingering over the imperial insignia emblazoned on his uniform. "Among other things," she replied slyly, her green eyes holding his mismatched ones with unspoken promise.
She stepped back, professional distance returning to her posture though the heat remained in her gaze. "I'll talk with you soon, High Commander."
Ravus nodded lightly, watching as she turned and strode toward the door. Only when the door closed did he allow himself to exhale, the tension leaving his shoulders in a slow, controlled breath.
He turned back to the window, staring out at the imperial capital with renewed purpose. Somewhere out there, beyond the borders of Niflheim, beyond the reach of the Emperor's grasp, his youngest sister was alive. The thought burned in his chest like a coal, painful and warming at once.
Flora—alive, after all these years. The sister he had believed lost forever, now within reach.
The empire could not have her. Verstael would turn her into a weapon, a tool for his depraved experiments. And Noctis Lucis Caelum, son of the man who had abandoned Tenebrae to its fate, was no better guardian for her.
Ravus flexed his magitek arm, listening to the soft mechanical whir as the fingers curled into a fist. He would find her himself. He would protect her as he had failed to do twelve years ago.
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
The sunlight streamed through the ornate windows of Fenestala Manor, painting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. In one of the many bedrooms, fifteen-year-old Ravus Nox Fleuret lay sleeping, his pale blonde hair splayed across the pillow, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the morning light. The usual stern set of his features was softened in sleep, making him look younger, more like the boy he still was beneath his growing responsibilities.
The door to his chamber creaked open slowly, followed by the soft patter of small feet across the floor. Five-year-old Flora Nox Fleuret, already dressed in a simple white dress with her blonde hair loosely braided, crept toward her brother's bed, her blue eyes wide with excitement and barely contained giggles threatening to escape her lips.
She reached the edge of the bed and paused for just a moment, bouncing on her toes as she took a deep breath. Then, with the boundless energy only a child could possess at such an early hour, she scrambled up onto the mattress.
"Ravus! Ravus, wake up!" Flora called, her voice bright and insistent as she bounced on the bed. "Wake up, big brother!"
Ravus stirred, groaning softly as he was pulled from sleep. He moved his arm away from his face, blinking in confusion as his heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one purple—focused on his little sister's beaming face hovering above him.
"Flora?" he murmured, voice rough with sleep. "What's wrong?"
Flora's tiny hand found his, tugging insistently as she pointed toward the window overlooking the royal gardens. "You have to come see what I did! In the garden!" Her excitement was palpable, blue eyes wide with pride and anticipation.
Ravus sighed softly, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "I'm coming," he said, his normally stern expression softening as he looked at his youngest sister.
Flora bounced impatiently beside him, her small hands clasped together as she waited. When Ravus finally stood, he reached down and scooped her up in one fluid motion, prompting a delighted giggle from his sister. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her laughter like bells in the quiet morning air.
Ravus carried her to the window, his bare feet silent against the cool floor. Together they looked out over the gardens, the lush greenery still glistening with morning dew. Among the flowers and carefully tended shrubs, a slender deer with a swollen belly moved cautiously, her coat a rich brown against the vibrant colors of the garden.
"Look there!" Flora exclaimed, pointing excitedly, her small body practically wiggling with joy in Ravus's arms. "I made a place for the deer. She can have her babies in there!"
Ravus followed her pointing finger and noticed a small shelter constructed from fallen branches, garden tools, and what appeared to be one of the royal tablecloths. It was clearly the work of a child—slightly lopsided and haphazardly assembled—but the deer seemed drawn to it, cautiously investigating the unexpected sanctuary.
A small smirk played across Ravus's lips as he watched the scene below. "She seems to like it," he said softly, his arm tightening slightly around his sister in a subtle display of pride.
Flora beamed up at him, her eyes shining with pure joy. "I knew she would! I told her yesterday that I would build her a safe place." She leaned forward, pressing her small hands against the glass as she watched the deer with rapt attention. "She's going to have two babies, Ravus. She told me."
"Two fawns," Ravus mused, watching as the deer settled into the makeshift shelter, seeming to accept Flora's offering. "That's quite a responsibility."
Flora nodded solemnly. "That's why she needs help. Everyone needs help sometimes, even animals."
A shadow passed across Ravus's face at her innocent wisdom. In just a few days, King Regis of Lucis would be visiting with his young son, Prince Noctis. Flora's betrothed and best friend. The political implications weighed heavily on Ravus's mind, especially with tensions rising between Tenebrae and the empire of Niflheim. But here, in this moment with his little sister, those concerns seemed distant.
"You have a kind heart, Flora," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Has Mother seen this?"
Flora leaned her head against his shoulder, content in the moment. "No yet. Can we go down and see her? I promised I'd bring her some berries."
Ravus glanced at the clock on his bedside table, considering. There were hours yet before he was expected at his morning lessons.
"Alright," he agreed, setting her down gently. "But first I need to dress. Wait for me in the hallway while I change."
Flora nodded eagerly and skipped toward the door, already planning what treats to bring for her new friend. As she reached the threshold, she turned back, her small face solemn.
"Ravus?" she asked, suddenly hesitant.
"Yes, Flora?"
"Do you think Luna will want to see the deer too when she finishes her morning prayers?"
Ravus's expression softened at the mention of their sister. Luna, at twelve, already carried the weight of her duties as the future Oracle with a grace that sometimes made him forget how young she truly was.
"I'm certain she will," he assured Flora. "Luna loves all the creatures you befriend."
Satisfied with his answer, Flora disappeared into the hallway, her excited footsteps echoing against the marble.
The slow, gray light of dawn crept through the gap in the curtains, painting a thin stripe across the tangled sheets. Rachel's eyes fluttered open, her consciousness returning in gentle waves. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was, but then the warm weight of Noctis's arm around her waist anchored her to reality.
She turned carefully in his embrace, her body protesting with a dull ache between her thighs that brought memories of the night flooding back.
Noctis slept deeply beside her, his features softened in repose. His dark lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted, each breath deep and even.
Rachel studied him, allowing herself this quiet moment of observation. She couldn't help the small smile that curved her lips as she leaned forward and pressed a feather-light kiss to his jaw, careful not to wake him.
His skin was warm beneath her lips. He stirred slightly but didn't wake, his arm tightening unconsciously around her waist. With careful movements, Rachel extracted herself from his embrace, wincing slightly as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The soreness between her thighs was more pronounced now, a tender reminder of their passionate night.
Her clothes from yesterday were scattered across the floor, mingled with Noctis's in a tangible reminder of their passion. Instead of retrieving her own shirt, Rachel reached for Noctis's black t-shirt and slipped it over her head. She pulled on her underwear and padded quietly to the bathroom, careful not to wake him.
The cool tile beneath her feet sent a small shiver up her spine as she closed the door behind her. Rachel caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused, taking in her reflection. Her blonde hair was tousled from sleep and their lovemaking, her lips slightly swollen from his kisses. Noctis's shirt hung loosely on her frame, falling to mid-thigh and slipping off one shoulder.
After finishing in the bathroom, Rachel opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom. To her surprise, Noctis was half-awake now, his eyes heavy-lidded as he lounged against the pillows. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.
"Hey," he said, his voice husky with sleep. His gaze traveled over her, taking in the sight of her wearing his shirt. A slow smile spread across his face, appreciation evident in his eyes.
"Morning," Rachel replied, suddenly shy under his scrutiny. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, hovering uncertainly by the bathroom door.
Noctis extended his hand toward her, an invitation. "Come back to bed."
Rachel took his hand, hesitating for just a moment. "Shouldn't we be getting ready? The others will be waiting."
"Looks like it's still early," Noctis said, glancing at the thin strip of dawn light filtering through the curtains. He gently pulled her toward him, guiding her to his side of the bed.
As she settled beside him, Noctis leaned in, his lips finding her neck. "My clothes look better on you anyway," he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and ticklish.
Rachel felt heat rise to her cheeks, a light blush spreading across her face at his words. No one had ever looked at her the way he did—as if she were something precious, something worth fighting for. She tilted her head, giving him better access as his lips continued their gentle exploration of her neck.
"You think so?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Mmm," Noctis hummed in agreement, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. "Definitely." His hand moved to her exposed shoulder, fingers skimming lightly over her skin.
His hand then slid under the hem of the shirt, fingers tracing patterns on her thigh. Rachel sighed contentedly, relaxing into his embrace. Noctis leaned in, capturing her lips with his. The gentle press of his mouth against hers sent warmth cascading through Rachel's body, and she responded eagerly, her hand coming up to cup his face as she deepened the kiss. Her fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw.
The quiet moment was interrupted by the distinctive chime of Noctis's phone. The device vibrated against the couch where he'd left it the night before, screen illuminating with a new message.
"Do you need to check that?" Rachel murmured against his lips, her voice soft and slightly breathless. "Might be Ignis."
Noctis made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, his attention entirely focused on her. With gentle insistence, he guided her to lie back on the bed, following her down without breaking the connection between them. His weight pressed her into the mattress, comforting rather than constraining.
"Five more minutes," he muttered, his lips leaving hers to trace a burning path down the column of her throat. The words vibrated against her sensitive skin, making her shiver beneath him.
Rachel let out a soft giggle at his persistence, the sound transforming into a surprised gasp as his hand slipped between her legs. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, exploring with careful attention that belied his sleepy demeanor. The sensation drew a soft moan from her lips, her body responding instantly to his touch.
Noctis returned his mouth to hers, swallowing her sounds of pleasure as she deepened the kiss. Her hand found the back of his head, fingers threading through his sleep-tousled hair to hold him close. Her back arched instinctively, pressing her body more firmly against his exploring hand, seeking more of the exquisite pressure he offered.
Pulling his lips away, Noctis watched Rachel's face as pleasure transformed her features, memorizing every flutter of her eyelashes, every catch in her breath.
"You're beautiful," he whispered, voice rough with emotion as he increased the tempo of his ministrations. Her response was immediate—a breathy moan and the tightening of her fingers in his hair.
Her breathing quickened, her body tensing as the pressure built within her. Rachel's eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting as she surrendered to the sensations flowing through her. Noctis watched her intently, mesmerized by the way she responded to his touch, the way her body arched and trembled beneath his fingers.
"Noct," she breathed, her voice barely audible as she reached her peak. The sound of his name on her lips, filled with such raw emotion, sent a surge of warmth through his chest. Her body shuddered, waves of pleasure washing over her as she came undone under his ministrations.
He waited until her breathing had slowed, then withdrew his hand, fingers glistening, and wiped them between the sheets with a lazy indifference that made her blush.
He smirked when she looked disappointed a little before she covered her face with the sheet, saying softly and shyly, "This wasn't supposed to go this way this morning."
Noctis rolled to his back, the sheet still covering his waist. "How was it supposed to go?" he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
Rachel peeked out from behind the sheet, her blue eyes meeting his. "We were supposed to get up and get dressed."
Noctis rolled to his side to continue looking at her. "We will," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "Soon. It's still early."
Rachel glanced at the phone on the couch, curiosity getting the better of her. She slipped out of bed, the cool morning air raising goosebumps on her exposed legs as she padded across the plush carpet. Picking up the device, she checked the notification that had interrupted their moment.
"It's only 6AM," she said, turning back toward Noctis.
She found him watching her with undisguised appreciation, his eyes traveling slowly from her bare legs up to where his t-shirt hung loosely from her shoulders. The intensity of his gaze made her cheeks flush with warmth. Suddenly self-conscious of her state of undress, she hurried back to the bed and slipped under the sheet, pulling it up to cover herself.
"I'm surprised you're even awake at this hour," she teased, trying to divert attention from her blush. "I thought you were allergic to mornings."
Noctis hummed noncommittally, his eyes still fixed on her with that same mixture of tenderness and desire that made her heart race. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek.
Rachel looked down at the phone again, opening the message. "It's from Ignis," she reported, scanning the text quickly. "He says they'll meet us for breakfast at the Mother of Pearl."
She looked up at Noctis, a question in her eyes. "That's the restaurant here, right? The one overlooking the water?"
Noctis nodded, then flopped onto his back with a dramatic sigh that made the mattress bounce slightly. He draped one arm over his eyes, the picture of reluctance.
"What time?" he asked, his voice muffled against his arm.
"Eight," Rachel replied, setting the phone on the nightstand beside her.
Noctis lowered his arm and turned his head to look at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. His eyes, still heavy-lidded from sleep, held a mischievous glint that made her pulse quicken.
"So we have time," he said, his voice dropping to that low register that sent shivers down her spine.
Rachel's breath caught as Noctis shifted closer, his hand sliding beneath the sheet to rest on her hip. The warmth of his palm seeped through the thin fabric of the t-shirt, igniting her skin beneath his touch. She watched the determination in his eyes—the same focus he brought to battle now directed entirely at her.
"Time for what?" she asked innocently, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Instead of answering, Noctis leaned in and captured her lips with his. The kiss was unhurried, deliberate, a stark contrast to the desperate urgency of the night before. His hand moved from her hip to her lower back, drawing her closer until their bodies aligned perfectly, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle that had always been meant to be joined.
Rachel melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as she surrendered to the sensation. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, strong and steady, a counterpoint to her own racing pulse. The sheet tangled between them, a flimsy barrier that did nothing to diminish the heat building where their bodies pressed together.
Noctis broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear. "I was thinking," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin, "maybe a shower?"
Rachel's eyes widened slightly at the implication. The suggestion sent a flood of images through her mind that made her blush deepen. "Together?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Noctis pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his expression suddenly uncertain. "If you want," he said, the confidence in his voice wavering slightly. "We don't have to—"
Rachel silenced him with a kiss, quick but decisive. "I want to," she assured him shyly, surprised by her own boldness.
Relief and desire flashed across Noctis's face. In one fluid motion, he sat up, bringing her with him. The sheet fell away, pooling around their waists as he looked at her with undisguised adoration.
"You're sure?" he asked, his hands resting lightly on her waist, thumbs tracing small circles against the fabric of his shirt.
Rachel nodded, touched by his consideration despite the obvious desire written across his features. Even now, even after everything they'd shared, he was still checking, still making sure she was comfortable with each new step they took together.
"I'm sure," she said, placing her palms against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her fingertips.
Noctis smiled—that rare, genuine smile that transformed his entire face and made him look younger, unburdened by the weight of his responsibilities. He pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
"I love you," he whispered, the words simple but profound in their honesty.
Rachel's heart swelled with emotion. "I love you too," she replied.
With gentle hands, Noctis guided her from the bed, leading her toward the bathroom. The tile was cool beneath their feet as they stepped inside, the spacious shower stall dominating one wall.
Rachel felt a momentary shyness as Noctis reached for the hem of his shirt that she wore. He paused, his fingers just brushing the fabric as he waited for her permission. She nodded, raising her arms slightly to make it easier for him to lift the garment over her head.
The shirt joined her underwear on the floor, leaving her completely bare before him. Noctis's breath caught audibly as his gaze traveled over her body with reverent appreciation. Despite their intimacy the night before, this was different—seeing each other fully in the light left no shadows to hide behind, no darkness to soften imperfections.
"Beautiful," he murmured, the single word carrying the weight of his adoration.
Rachel reached for him, hooking her fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants. With trembling hands, she helped him shed the last barrier between them. They stood facing each other, equally vulnerable in their nakedness, equally powerful in their mutual desire.
Noctis reached past her to turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature until steam began to rise from the spray. He took her hand and guided her inside, the warm water cascading over them both. Rachel gasped softly as the heat enveloped her, washing away the lingering sleepiness and soreness from the night before.
For a moment, they simply stood there, letting the water sluice over their bodies, creating rivulets that traced the contours of muscle and curve. Noctis reached for the hotel shampoo, pouring a small amount into his palm before motioning for Rachel to turn around. With gentle fingers, he worked the lather through her blonde hair, massaging her scalp in slow, circular motions that drew a contented sigh from her lips.
The simple act of washing her hair felt strangely more intimate than what they had shared the night before and the act a few minutes ago. There was a tenderness to it, a caring that transcended desire, though that element remained present in every touch, every glance they exchanged.
Rachel closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation of his hands in her hair, the warm water cascading over them both, and the steam that wrapped around them like a cocoon, separating them from the world outside.
When he finished with her hair, she turned to face him, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him. Water ran between them, making their lips slip and slide against each other in a way that drew a soft laugh from them both. Rachel reached for the shampoo, wanting to return the favor.
Noctis closed his eyes, surrendering to her touch. The sensation of her fingertips against his scalp sent pleasant shivers down his spine. For all his royal upbringing, few people had ever touched him with such tenderness. Ignis had cut his hair since childhood, efficient and professional, but this—Rachel's gentle ministrations, the intimacy of her care—was entirely different.
"You're good at this," he murmured, water streaming down his face.
Rachel smiled as she guided him under the spray to rinse, watching as rivulets of shampoo ran down his shoulders.
Then, Noctis pulled her close, his arms encircling her waist as he kissed her deeply. Rachel melted against him, her body responding to his with the same eagerness as before.
Their lovemaking in the shower was gentler than the night before, mindful of her soreness and the slippery tiles beneath their feet. Rachel's back pressed against the cool tile wall, Noctis supporting her weight with strong hands beneath her thighs. They explored each other with unhurried touches, learning what brought pleasure, what drew gasps and sighs.
The steam enveloped them like a protective shroud, muffling the soft sounds that escaped their lips. Water streamed down their bodies, turning their skin slick and heightening every sensation where they touched. Rachel wrapped her arms around his shoulders, anchoring herself as he moved within her with careful, measured strokes.
"Okay?" Noctis whispered against her ear, concerned even now about causing her discomfort.
Rachel nodded, unable to form words as pleasure built within her, different from before—less urgent but somehow deeper, more complete. She buried her face against his neck, tasting the water on his skin, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath her lips.
Noctis moved slowly, his breathing ragged as he fought to maintain control on the slippery surface. His fingers dug slightly into the soft flesh of her thighs, holding her secure against him.
Noctis leaned his forehead to hers, his wet hair dripping between their faces, and began to move, the motion slow enough to make her groan with impatience. She rocked her hips against him, a silent dare for him to go deeper, faster, and he responded, adjusting the angle until she gasped, the sound echoing off the steamed-up glass. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer, her heels locking at the small of his back. The shower's running water masked their noises, but in the small, tile-bound room every gasp and moan rebounded, multiplied, built toward a rhythm that neither wanted to break.
They came together in a slow, rolling climax, Rachel's head thrown back against the wall as she shuddered around him, her muscles tensing and then softening into afterglow.
Noctis followed a moment later, pouring himself into her with a force that threatened to buckle his knees. His forehead rested against her chest, the steam and the salt of their shared skin blurring the boundary between bodies, between selves. They stood locked together for a long time, water streaming over them, the world beyond the glass a far-off, diluted thing. When he finally slipped free, she felt the absence immediately.
Afterward, they washed each other with tender care, stealing kisses between rinses, laughing at the awkwardness of maneuvering in the confined space.
When they finally emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in plush hotel towels, the morning sun had fully risen, painting the room in golden light. Rachel glanced at the clock—7:10. They still had time before meeting the others, but not much.
"I guess we should get dressed," she said, reluctance evident in her voice as she rummaged through her bag for clean clothes.
Noctis watched her from across the room, his hair still damp and unruly from the shower. There was something different about him now—a quiet contentment that hadn't been there before, despite the burdens he still carried.
"Yeah," he agreed, though he made no immediate move to do so. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, towel wrapped around his waist, and simply observed her with a soft expression that made her heart flutter.
Rachel reluctantly tore her gaze away from Noctis and began to dress for the day ahead. She pulled on underwear and a simple white shirt, then wiggled into her jeans, wincing slightly at the soreness that lingered. Across the room, Noctis finally stood from the bed and began rummaging through his own bag, retrieving his trademark black clothing.
Rachel glanced out the window at the clear blue sky. The morning sunlight sparkled on the water of Galdin Quay, not a cloud in sight. The weather was perfect—warm but not hot, with a gentle breeze that stirred the palm trees outside. She pulled her navy coat from her bag, considering it for a moment before refolding it neatly.
"Looks nice enough outside," she murmured, tucking the coat back into her bag. "Probably won't need this today."
Instead, she reached for her lighter jacket, sliding her arms through the sleeves and adjusting it over her white shirt.
Noctis watched her from the corner of his eye as he fastened his belt. Something about the simple domesticity of getting dressed together made his heart ache with longing for a different life—one where mornings like this could be commonplace rather than stolen moments between battles.
"Ready?" he asked, zipping up his own jacket.
Rachel nodded, reaching for her bag. "As ready as I'll ever be."
The quiet intimacy of the morning lingered between them, a fragile bubble neither wanted to burst with words.
Just as they were heading to the door, Rachel's eyes widened slightly as something tugged at the edges of her consciousness—the memory that had drifted through her dreams the night before, now returning with sudden clarity.
"Noct, wait," she said softly. "I had a memory last night. When I was sleeping."
Noctis turned to her, concern immediately replacing the contentment that had lingered on his face. "What kind of memory?"
"It was about Ravus," she said, her fingers absently playing with the sleeve of her light jacket. "My... brother."
Noctis tensed slightly at the mention of Ravus's name. His complicated history with Rachel's brother—once an ally, now an enemy—cast a shadow over his features. Still, he stepped closer to her, his hand finding hers.
"Was it..." he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Was it a good memory?"
Rachel's lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes still distant as she recalled the scene that had played in her dreams. She nodded slowly.
"Yes," she said. "I was very young—maybe five. I woke him up early one morning to show him something I'd built in the garden." The memory warmed her from within, bringing color to her cheeks. "A shelter for a pregnant deer. He was so patient with me, even though I'd disturbed his sleep. He carried me to the window to see her."
Noctis squeezed her hand gently, relief softening his features. He was glad that among all the memories that could have returned to her, this one had been gentle. Too many of her childhood recollections ended in fire and death.
"He loved me," Rachel continued, her voice tinged with wonder and sadness as she contemplated the stark contrast between that loving older brother and the bitter, vengeful man Ravus had become by what she heard.
"People change," Noctis said quietly, understanding her unspoken thoughts. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't love you anymore, that hasn't changed. You're his sister."
Rachel looked up at him, grateful for his understanding. "In the memory, I mentioned Luna too. I asked if she would want to see the deer after her morning prayers." She paused, her brow furrowing slightly. "I wish I could remember more about her."
Noctis's expression grew complicated at the mention of Luna. His betrothed, Rachel's sister—another thread in the complex tapestry of their intertwined fates. He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on Rachel's need in this moment.
"The memories will come," he assured her, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Just like this one did."
Rachel nodded, taking a deep breath to center herself. "We should go," she said, glancing at the clock. "The others will be waiting."
Noctis hesitated, then leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Thank you for telling me," he said softly.
Rachel smiled, the distant look fading from her eyes as she returned to the present. She squeezed his hand once more before releasing it.
As they got out, Noctis took her bag from her, putting it with his bag on one hand. Rachel closed the door and Noctis took her hand and led her to the elevator.
The simple gesture felt both protective and possessive, his fingers intertwining with hers as they walked. Neither spoke, but the warmth of his palm against hers said everything words couldn't—a silent promise that whatever awaited them beyond the sanctuary of their room, they would face it together.
The elevator arrived with a soft chime. They stepped inside, and Rachel pressed the button for the lobby.
As the elevator descended, Rachel glanced down at their joined hands, suddenly conscious of what the others might think. The intimacy they'd shared in their room felt like a fragile, precious thing—something to be protected.
People surely still thinking Noctis is engaged to Luna.
Just before the doors slid open to the lobby, she gently released her fingers from his, already anticipating the eyes of the other guests. But Noctis immediately reclaimed her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he led her out of the elevator.
The lobby bustled with morning activity—tourists planning their day's adventures, staff moving efficiently between tasks. Rachel felt her cheeks warm as Noctis walked confidently beside her, their hands linked in plain view of anyone who cared to look.
Near the entrance, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto waited. The three men turned at their approach, their reactions varying but equally telling.
Prompto's face split into a wide grin the moment he spotted their joined hands, his eyes dancing with barely contained glee. Ignis and Gladio exchanged quick, knowing smiles before Ignis cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses with practiced nonchalance.
"Good morning," Ignis said, his tone carefully neutral despite the hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "I trust you both slept well?"
Before either could answer, Gladio stepped forward and deftly took the bags from Noctis's free hand. "I'll take these to the car," he said, his deep voice rumbling with amusement. "See you all in a few at the restaurant." With a subtle wink at Noctis, he turned and strode away, the bags slung effortlessly over his massive shoulder.
Rachel felt her cheeks flush deeper as Prompto bounced on his heels, looking between her and Noctis with undisguised delight. The gunner's excitement was palpable, like a child who'd just witnessed his favorite fairy tale come true.
"Let's eat, I'm starving," Noctis said, attempting to divert attention from their linked hands, though he made no move to release her.
The four of them made their way across the resort's polished wooden walkway toward the Mother of Pearl. The restaurant was relatively quiet at this hour, with only a handful of early risers occupying the tables that would be packed by evening. Sunlight streamed through the open sides of the structure, glinting off the water beyond and casting everything in a warm golden glow.
As they followed the hostess to a table overlooking the bay, Prompto fell into step beside Ignis, leaning close to whisper with theatrical secrecy. "One mission is accomplished," he murmured, barely containing his excitement.
Ignis glanced at the younger man with a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.
Above them, Blaze had found a perch atop one of the light poles that lined the boardwalk. The golden eagle's keen eyes watched over them, his feathers ruffled slightly by the sea breeze.
They settled around a circular table, Rachel and Noctis naturally gravitating to adjacent seats. A waitress approached immediately, her professional smile brightening as she recognized the royal retinue from their previous visit. She distributed four leather-bound menus with practiced efficiency.
"Good morning," Ignis said, taking charge as usual. "Coffee for all of us, please. For five." He gestured subtly toward the entrance where Gladio would soon join them. "And another menu as well, if you would."
The waitress nodded and walked away, leaving them to peruse the breakfast selections. Beneath the table, Noctis's knee pressed gently against Rachel's, a subtle point of contact that sent warmth spreading through her limbs.
Prompto hid his face behind his menu, but his eyes peered over the top, darting between Rachel and Noctis with excitement. He was practically vibrating with a question he wanted to ask.
"The weather seems favorable for travel today," Ignis remarked, breaking the loaded silence. "Clear skies all the way to Duscae, according to the forecast."
Noctis nodded, grateful for the neutral topic. "Good. We've got a lot of ground to cover."
"So," Prompto finally burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. "Are you two officially a thing now?" He gestured between them with his menu.
"Prompto!" Ignis admonished, though his tone lacked genuine reproach.
Rachel looked at Noctis, uncertain how to answer.
Before either could formulate a response, Gladio appeared, dropping into the empty chair with a satisfied grunt. He nodded toward the waitress who was returning with a tray of steaming coffee cups.
"Perfect timing," he rumbled, reaching for a cup the moment she set it down.
The waitress distributed the coffees and the fifth menu, then pulled out her notepad. "Ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?"
Ignis glanced around the table, receiving nods from everyone. "I believe we're ready."
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
The world beyond the hotel room ceased to exist. There was no fallen kingdom, no imperial threat, no royal duty—only this moment, this connection that transcended memory and time. In the back of her mind, Rachel felt something stir—the ghost of another life, of stolen moments in palace gardens and whispered promises beneath starlit skies.
Noctis backed her slowly toward the bed, his lips never leaving hers as they moved in perfect synchronicity. When the backs of her legs hit the mattress, he paused, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, his pupils dilated with desire and something deeper—a vulnerability he showed to no one else.
"Rachel," he whispered, her name a prayer on his lips.
She reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead with gentle fingers. "I'm here," she answered softly. "I'm real."
Something in his expression broke at her words—the careful control he'd maintained since Insomnia fell, the mask of the dutiful prince that had become second nature. In its place was raw, unfiltered emotion—grief and hope and longing all tangled together in the blue depths of his eyes.
He kissed her again, gentler this time but no less intense. His hands skimmed down her sides, settling at her waist as he lowered her onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight as he followed her down, his body covering hers in a protective embrace.
Hesitantly at first, Rachel's hands found the hem of his shirt, her fingers trembling slightly as they slipped beneath the soft fabric. She traced the contours of his abdomen, feeling the taut muscles tense beneath her touch. The warmth of his skin against her palms sent a shiver through her entire body.
Noctis's breath hitched at her exploratory touch. He shifted his attention from her lips to the sensitive skin of her throat, trailing kisses down the elegant column of her neck. Each press of his lips drew soft, breathless moans from her that seemed to ignite something primal within him.
"I love you," he breathed, the words vibrating against her pulse. "I've always loved you."
The confession hung in the air between them, powerful and irrevocable. Rachel froze for a heartbeat, her hands stilling against his skin as the weight of his words settled over her. Then she pulled him closer, her fingers threading through his damp hair as she guided his face back to hers.
"I love you too," she whispered against his lips.
Noctis kissed her again, deeper this time, pouring everything he couldn't say into the connection between them. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her pajama top, fingers splaying across the smooth skin of her waist. The touch sent electricity coursing through her veins, making her arch against him with a soft gasp.
With a trembling hand, Rachel reached for the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it upward. Noctis helped her, breaking their kiss just long enough to yank the fabric over his head and toss it aside. In the soft lamplight, his bare chest gleamed, the defined muscles testament to years of combat training. A small scar marked his left shoulder—a childhood wound she didn't remember but somehow recognized.
"You're beautiful," she whispered, her fingertips tracing the contours of his chest with reverent curiosity.
Noctis's ears reddened at her words. Despite his royal upbringing and the confidence he displayed in battle, this intimate vulnerability was new territory. He had never allowed anyone to see him this way—physically or emotionally exposed. Only Rachel had ever breached the careful walls he'd built around his heart.
"So are you," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His hands found the buttons of her pajama top, hesitating there as his eyes sought permission.
Rachel nodded, her breath catching as his fingers worked the small buttons free one by one. With each new inch of skin revealed, Noctis's eyes darkened, his controlled movements becoming less steady. When the last button came undone, he gently parted the fabric, exposing her to his gaze.
The cool air against her bare skin made Rachel shiver, but it was the heat in Noctis's eyes that sent waves of warmth cascading through her body. He lowered his head, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat, then trailing kisses downward over her collarbone.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin.
"Yes," she breathed, arching toward him as his hands and lips continued their gentle exploration.
As clothing gave way to skin against skin, their movements became a dance of discovery. Fingers traced paths across unfamiliar terrain, learning the geography of each other's bodies with tender curiosity. Noctis marveled at the softness of Rachel's skin, the elegant curve of her waist, the subtle strength in her limbs. She in turn explored the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, the scars that told stories of his training and battles.
Their inexperience manifested in occasional awkward adjustments and nervous laughter quickly swallowed by deeper kisses. Neither had done this before, but instinct guided them where knowledge couldn't.
When Noctis positioned himself above her, his eyes locked with Rachel's in silent question. Her answer came in the form of gentle hands pulling him closer, guiding him home. When their bodies joined, the sensation was overwhelming—a perfect union of pleasure and pain that made Rachel gasp against his mouth. Noctis stilled immediately, his eyes searching hers with concern.
"Did I hurt you?" he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of remaining motionless.
Rachel shook her head, her hands sliding up his back to pull him closer. "No," she breathed. "Don't stop."
Noctis pressed his forehead against hers, their breath mingling as he began to move with careful, measured strokes. The initial discomfort Rachel felt soon gave way to waves of pleasure that radiated outward from where they were joined. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, a soft cry escaping her lips.
Noctis kissed her, slow at first, as if relearning the shape of her. Rachel deepened the kiss, her tongue parting his lips, and he responded in kind—one hand splayed at her hip, the other braced against the mattress, anchoring them both against the tremor of this moment. He moved inside her with caution that soon gave way to urgency. Her hands roamed the length of his back, nails dragging gently along muscle and scar, grounding him when the memory of loss threatened to overtake him.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down her jaw, across her throat, and she moaned. Their fingers found each other in the growing passion, weaving together against the white pillowcase as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm. His hand gripped hers tightly as he pushed forward with more force than before, reaching deep inside her again.
Rachel's eyes widened, her lips parting in a gasp that melted into his mouth as he kissed her. The sensation of him touching her deepest point sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through her body. Her back arched instinctively, pressing her breasts against his chest.
"Noct," she breathed, the single syllable carrying all the emotion she couldn't articulate.
He slowed his movements, giving her time to adjust to the new depth. His thumb stroked the back of her hand where their fingers remained intertwined, a tender counterpoint to the intensity of their connection. With their foreheads pressed together, they shared the same air, the same heartbeat.
He captured her lips again as he resumed his movements, each thrust deliberate and deep. The bed creaked softly beneath them, the sound blending with their shared breaths and quiet moans to create a symphony of intimacy.
Rachel felt a pressure building within her, a tension coiling tighter with each movement of their joined bodies. Her fingers clutched Noctis's hand more desperately as the sensation intensified. Something was happening that she didn't understand but instinctively craved.
Noctis felt the change in her, saw it in the flush spreading across her skin and the quickening of her breath. He adjusted his angle slightly, maintaining the depth that had drawn that beautiful sound from her lips. His own release was approaching rapidly, but he held back, focused entirely on her pleasure.
"Let go," he whispered against her ear, his voice rough with restraint. "I've got you."
His words were the permission she didn't know she needed. The tension broke in a rush of sensation that overwhelmed her senses. Rachel cried out, her body trembling beneath his as waves of pleasure washed through her. Her inner muscles clenched around him rhythmically, the sensation triggering his own release. Noctis buried his face against her neck, a guttural moan escaping him as he followed her over the edge, spilling deep inside her, their hands still tightly intertwined.
They stayed connected, panting. After a long moment, Noctis let go gently of her hands and pulled out of her, causing her to moan softly.
The sudden emptiness left her feeling hollow, yet somehow more complete than she had ever been. Noctis collapsed beside her, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. Rachel turned toward him, her body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure, and nestled against his side. His arm came around her automatically, drawing her closer until her head rested on his chest, just above his racing heart.
For several minutes, they lay in silence, letting their breathing slow and synchronize.
Noctis traced lazy patterns on Rachel's arm, marveling at the softness of her skin beneath his calloused fingertips. In all his life—through royal banquets and formal ceremonies, through combat training and royal duties—he had never felt as truly himself as he did in this moment, lying with her in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
"What are you thinking about?" Rachel asked softly, her voice slightly hoarse.
Noctis continued his gentle exploration of her skin, his fingers trailing down her arm and back up again. "That I wish we could stay like this," he admitted. "Just... forget about everything else."
Rachel lifted her head to look at him, her blue eyes searching his face in the dim light.
"I know," she whispered, reaching up to brush a strand of dark hair from his forehead. Her touch lingered, tracing the curve of his cheekbone with tender curiosity.
Noctis caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, the gesture achingly gentle. Rachel shifted just a bit against him, wincing a little. Noctis immediately noticed her discomfort, his brow furrowing with concern.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly again, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her properly.
"No," Rachel assured him, though her cheeks flushed pink as she averted her eyes. "It's just... since it was my first time..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Understanding dawned in Noctis's eyes. With gentle tenderness, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"I'm sorry," he murmured against her skin. "I should have been more careful."
Rachel shook her head, her blonde hair splaying across the pillow. "Don't apologize. I wouldn't change anything."
The sincerity in her voice made something warm unfurl in Noctis's chest. He settled back down beside her, drawing her carefully against him so that her head rested in the crook of his shoulder. His fingers resumed their gentle exploration, tracing the curve of her waist with feather-light touches.
"Me neither," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Noctis reached for the blankets and drew them up over their limbs, tucking the warmth around both bodies with a protective gesture. He did not let her go. If anything, he held Rachel closer, his arm a heavy, living weight across her waist as she lay with her cheek pressed to his sternum. She could hear the slow thud of his heart, the way it seemed to echo her own. Above them, the AC unit rattled to life, sending a faint, cool breeze over the bed.
Noctis traced idle lines along the length of her spine, the pads of his fingers burning a trail between the delicate knobs of her vertebrae. The movement made Rachel shiver, not in pain or fear, but in something deeper—a pleasure so sharp and unfamiliar it left her breathless. He caught the involuntary tremor and smiled, a tiny, secret thing he buried in her hair as he pressed his lips to her temple.
After some time, Noctis spoke, his voice low and thick with sleep and satisfaction. "You're not cold, are you?"
Rachel shook her head minutely, her nose brushing against his collarbone.
He trailed his hand down her back, stopping at the base of her spine, thumb rubbing gentle circles.
After a while, Rachel closed her eyes and let herself drift in the warmth and rhythm of his touch. She thought of nothing at all, which was a novelty—no looming wars, no stolen childhood, not even the memory-ghosts that usually haunted her in the dark. She only thought of now, of the boy who was a king and the king who was just a boy, of the way his heartbeat underpinned everything.
She must have dozed, because the next thing she knew, Noctis was extricating himself gently, setting her head down on the pillow with careful hands. She blinked up at him, drowsy and confused.
"Bathroom," he whispered, and she smiled at the ordinariness of it.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, at the perfect circle of light cast by the bedside lamp. She listened to the sound of water running, the clink of glass against porcelain as Noctis brushed his teeth or rinsed his mouth.
Rachel closed her eyes, the smile still on her lips.
When Noctis returned, he slid under the sheets and gathered her in again, more careful this time. He lay on his side, propping his head up with his hand, just looking at her.
She let her hand rest upon his face, thumb brushing the delicate bone just below his eye before resting at the sharp edge of his jaw.
Her touch was light, almost reverent, and Noctis felt the tremor of it run like a current down his spine. He closed his eyes, momentarily overwhelmed by the simple intimacy, the way her hand mapped the angles of his face as though reacquainting herself with something half-remembered from a dream. When her thumb brushed the sharp hinge of his jaw, he leaned into the pressure, the way a child might lean into the hand of a parent, desperate for affirmation.
Rachel studied him as she traced the line of his jaw, the midnight blue stubble soft against her fingertips, the skin beneath warmer than she expected. There was a tension in his muscles, a micro-flinch at the gentlest of contacts, as if the whole of him was held together by effort and the smallest slackening would cause him to fall apart. She wondered if she looked the same—worn thin, raw at the seams, stitched only by the moment's peace.
"You didn't used to be so serious," she said quietly, not as an accusation but a confession of loss.
Noctis opened his eyes, blue dark as the new moon. "Didn't used to be a king."
The words fell between them, simple and irreducible. She wondered whether he believed them, or if he said it only to mask the soft animal vulnerability he still carried in his voice, the part that wanted to believe it was all temporary, that his father would wake him up from this nightmare with a sigh and a tousle of his hair.
He reached for her hand, curled it between both of his, and brought it to rest over his heart. His pulse was quick but steady. "Sorry," he said, and she understood he was apologizing for more than the war, more than his own stubbornness—apologizing for the way his love, even now, came with so much baggage.
She shook her head, silencing him with a look. There was nothing to forgive that she had not already forgiven a thousand times, in this life and any other.
Noctis shifted, rolling onto his back. Rachel curled into his side, resting her head in the hollow between shoulder and chest. He wrapped his arm around her, his palm smoothing over the exposed curve of her hip, thumb brushing gentle arcs against her skin. It was a proprietary gesture, but there was a question in it, too: Can I keep you, just for tonight?
She answered by slipping her leg over his, tangling them together beneath the sheets. "You know," she said after a long stretch of silence, "I think I always liked you better this way."
He looked down at her, eyebrow raised. "What way?"
"Unarmored. Unprincely. Just Noct." She let her hand rest on his chest, fingers splayed. "Not the guy everyone else is watching. Just you."
He closed his eyes, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Doesn't work that way anymore," he said, but there was no bitterness in it, only fact. "Someone's always watching now."
Rachel lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Not tonight," she said. "Tonight, no one's watching."
He smiled, a small, lopsided thing that was all the more precious for its rarity. "That so?"
She nodded, solemn and sure. "I checked. Even Blaze is giving us privacy."
Noctis laughed, a real, surprised sound, and she felt the way it shook through his chest into her own. "Well, if Blaze approves," he said, and bent to kiss her again, slower this time, as if savoring a secret.
When the kiss broke, Rachel lay her head back down and let her eyelids flutter shut.
Noctis held her, kissing the top of her head. The sensation of his lips against her hair sent a wave of contentment through her body. He breathed in the scent of her—hotel shampoo mingled with something uniquely her own, a fragrance that stirred memories just beyond his grasp.
Rachel opened her eyes again, her fingers trailing lightly across his bare chest. She traced the contours of his muscles, the small scars from years of training. Each mark told a story she wished she knew. Noctis watched her, fascinated by the curiosity in her touch, the way her delicate fingers mapped the landscape of his body as though committing it to memory.
Rachel felt his gaze and looked up at him. "What?" she asked softly.
Noctis shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Nothing," he said softly. "Just glad you're back."
The simplicity of his words carried the weight of years lost, of a connection that had survived even when memories hadn't. In those four words lay everything—his grief for what they'd missed, his joy at having found her again, his fear that she might somehow slip away once more.
Rachel smiled softly and laid her head back on his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear grounded her, reminding her that despite everything that had happened, they were here, together, alive.
"There are still memories I'm missing," she said softly, her words vibrating against his skin.
"They'll come back to you," Noctis assured her, his voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear. "Just like the other memories did."
Rachel hummed softly in response. She wanted to believe him, needed to believe that someday she would remember everything—her childhood in Tenebrae, her sister Luna, her brother Ravus. The life she'd lived before Boston.
Noctis trailed his fingers along her bare back, the touch light and soothing. His hand moved in lazy patterns across her skin, tracing the gentle curve of her spine. The intimacy of the gesture made her heart flutter.
She looked up at him again, drawn by an invisible thread that seemed to connect them across time and memory. Their eyes met, blue on blue, and in that moment, something passed between them that transcended words.
Rachel leaned up and kissed him softly, her lips gentle against his. What began as tender quickly transformed as she deepened the kiss, placing her hands behind his head, fingers threading through his dark hair.
Noctis responded immediately, his arms tightening around her as he pulled her closer.
Without breaking the kiss, Rachel let him move her on top of him. One of Noctis' hands moved to her hair while they kissed passionately. She straddled him, her bare skin pressing against his, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through both their bodies. Noctis' fingers tangled in her blonde waves, gently cradling her head as their lips moved together in perfect rhythm.
Rachel felt a surge of confidence in this new position, a power that came from seeing the effect she had on him. Beneath her, Noctis was completely undone—the carefully composed young king replaced by a young man desperate with need. His eyes, when they briefly opened to look at her, were dark with desire, pupils dilated until only a thin ring of blue remained.
"Rachel," he breathed against her lips, her name a prayer and a plea all at once.
She silenced him with another kiss, deeper than before, her tongue sliding against his in a dance that seemed both new and familiar. Her hands braced against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms.
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
The trench yawned before them, a jagged wound in the landscape made more ominous by the chill blowing up from its depths. The group followed the uneven path down, the ground crunching beneath their boots, until they reached a barricade of rusted metal and ferrocrete that marked the threshold of the next tomb. Cor led the way, his stride unbroken even when the others hesitated at the darkness pooling beyond the entrance.
Here, Cor stopped, his silhouette sharp against the dim gray light. He turned to face the group.
"Here's where we go our separate ways," he said. His hand went into his jacket, and when it emerged he held up a battered, ancient-looking key. He tossed it to Noctis, who caught it reflexively, the cold metal biting into his palm.
"Take this key. It unlocks the door to the other tombs," Cor said. "Seek them out, and lay claim to the power they hold. You'll need it."
Noctis nodded, slipping the key into his pocket with outward calm. But Rachel, watching from just behind his shoulder, saw the way his fingers trembled; even now, the role of king felt like a borrowed coat—ill-fitted, the sleeves too long and the weight unearned.
Noctis glanced at the key in his hand, then slid it into his pocket with a heaviness that belied its size. "And what about you?" he asked, voice steady but low.
Cor regarded him for a moment, taking the measure of a boy who was now, whether he liked it or not, a king. "I'll keep an eye on the Niffs," he said, meaning the empire, the enemy, the thing that had stolen the world from beneath their feet. "Find out what they're up to. But you should focus on your own task. Be careful in there." With that, he tipped his chin to Rachel, offered a nod to the others, and strode away, boots striking sparks on the stone as he vanished into the narrowing daylight.
Noctis looked back at Rachel, his expression clearing with the focus of someone determined to get through the next minute, the next hour. "Here we go," he said, and offered his gloved hand, uncertain if she'd take it, but hopeful. She did, her palm settling into his with a quiet, unspoken trust, and he led her ahead as he pulled a flashlight from his pocket and thumbed it on.
The narrow beam cut through the gloom. The tomb's entrance was narrow, the stone damp and close around their shoulders. Gladio ducked his head as he followed, muttering something about being too big for these damn dead kings' houses, and Prompto brought up the rear, the click of his camera shutter every few steps betraying his nerves.
They descended a set of crumbling stairs, the air cooling as they went. Rachel was acutely aware of the temperature shift, the way each breath plumed in front of her face, made visible by the chill. Water dripped from somewhere above, counting time in slow, hollow strikes.
"What is this place?" Rachel whispered, her voice echoing in the darkness. The tomb's inner chamber felt different from the main hall—less ceremonial, more utilitarian.
Prompto's flashlight beam swept across the walls, catching on something that made him pause.
"Huh? Look!" He pointed to a door, partially hidden behind a fallen pillar. The metal surface was incongruous against the ancient stone surroundings.
"There's a door," Gladio observed, moving closer to examine it.
Rachel stepped forward, her eyes tracing the unusual architecture. "What was this place?"
Ignis adjusted his glasses, studying the structure with analytical precision. "It appears to have been a shelter."
Prompto's brow furrowed as he processed this information. "People lived here?"
"Those seeking refuge from war, most like," Ignis replied, his gloved fingers tracing the worn surface of the door.
"Wars, what are they good for?" Prompto scoffed, shaking his head. His voice echoed slightly in the confined space. "Wonder if anyone's still living here."
They carefully navigated down a couple of worn stone stairs, continuing forward into the darkness. The beam of Noctis's flashlight swept across the dusty floor, illuminating years of undisturbed sediment.
As they ventured deeper, Prompto suddenly stopped and crouched down. "Huh, what's this?"
Rachel felt something beneath the soles of her boots—a rigid line running across the floor. She looked down, making out the shape in the dim light.
"A cable..." Prompto murmured, tracing it with his finger.
"It's probably a power-line," Rachel observed. She gently released Noctis's hand and began to follow the cord's path. The thin black line snaked along the floor, disappearing into the shadows ahead.
The guys exchanged glances before falling into step behind her.
"Guess we're following," Gladio muttered, ducking his head to avoid a low-hanging section of ceiling.
The cable led them to an alcove where a large, boxy shape sat covered in years of dust and cobwebs. Rachel brushed away some of the grime, revealing metal housing and faded labels.
"A generator?" she asked, running her fingers along its surface.
Ignis moved beside her, searching for any sign of operational controls. "So it would appear."
"Might still run..." Prompto suggested, poking at the old dusty machine with cautious optimism. His fingers probed the surface, searching for any sign that the technology might still function.
Noctis knelt in front of the generator, his eyes finding what the others had missed—a simple switch nearly hidden beneath accumulated grime. Without hesitation, he flipped it, his action born of both curiosity and necessity.
To everyone's surprise, the generator hummed to life. A moment later, lights embedded in the ceiling flickered and then steadied, casting a blue-white glow throughout the passage. Years of darkness were suddenly banished, revealing the full extent of the shelter around them.
"Sweet! It works!" Prompto exclaimed, his face lighting up with childlike excitement.
"Then there was light," Gladio remarked dryly, though his eyes moved with new interest across the revealed details of their surroundings.
"Oh man, I do love me some light," Prompto sighed contentedly, visibly relaxing now that the darkness had been banished.
Rachel glanced at the generator, noting how it sputtered slightly. "We better get a move on, the generator won't last forever."
They started walking down the cave, the blue light casting eerie shadows on the walls. The tomb seemed to stretch further than any of them had anticipated, revealing a network of chambers that had once housed people seeking sanctuary from some long-forgotten conflict.
Suddenly, a loud scraping sound of metal against stone cut through the silence. A very unmanly sound came from Prompto as he grabbed onto the closest thing to him, which happened to be Rachel.
Prompto clutched Rachel's waist tightly, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of her new navy coat as he pulled her against him. His eyes were wide with panic, darting around the dimly lit corridor.
"What was that!?" he yelped, his voice echoing down the ancient stone hallway.
Rachel looked at him in surprise, both from the sudden contact and his dramatic reaction. Before she could respond, Noctis stepped forward and delivered a swift smack to the back of Prompto's head, his expression darkening with irritation.
"Let go," he ordered, a hint of jealousy coloring his annoyance.
"My bad," Gladio admitted with a sheepish grunt. "Kicked a can."
Prompto released Rachel immediately and rubbed the back of his head where Noctis had hit him. He shot Gladio an accusatory glare, his dignity clearly wounded.
"You're killing me here, big guy! Are you trying to give me a heart attack or somethin'!?" He turned to Rachel quickly, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry," he whispered.
Rachel chuckled lightly at his embarrassment. Noctis pulled her away from Prompto's side, his expression darkening with a hint of possessiveness. Rachel glanced at him and smiled softly in amusement at his surprisingly jealous side, finding it endearing despite the tense situation. He pushed open a door that was at the end of the tunnel, and she flinched at its loud creaking—a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the ancient corridor.
"I hate that noise," Prompto groaned, running his hand through his blond hair.
"Makes two of us," Rachel replied softly, suppressing a shiver. The sound reminded her of horror movies she'd watched back in Boston, ones where the protagonist always made the mistake of investigating strange noises in dark places.
Prompto crept forward, his gun materializing in his hand as he peered into the darkness beyond. "I can feel eyes on us..." he whispered, his voice tight with anxiety. "The second we turn our backs, BAM!"
"Quit being a wuss," Gladio rumbled, though his own hand hovered near the space where his greatsword would appear if summoned.
Noctis moved to another door on their right, trying the handle. It refused to budge despite his efforts, the lock mechanism inside rattling with age and disuse. "This door is locked," he announced, frustration evident in his voice.
"Onward, then," Ignis said pragmatically, adjusting his glasses as he gestured toward the path ahead.
They continued down the corridor, their footsteps echoing against stone walls that had witnessed centuries pass in silent vigil. Prompto walked ahead, his natural curiosity temporarily overcoming his fear.
"Um, hello? Anybody home?" he called out, voice echoing. "I'm comin' in!"
Rachel couldn't help herself. "You're such a goof," she said, chuckling softly at his antics.
Her amusement was cut short when a tremendous banging sound erupted from behind a door on her left. The noise was deafening in the confined space, like something massive had been thrown against metal. She gasped softly, instinctively stepping closer to Noctis.
"What. Was. That?" Prompto's voice became quieter, his eyes wide with renewed fear.
Gladio's expression hardened as he approached the door. "Whatever it is making those noises, it's playing with us."
Noctis took Rachel's hand and led her quickly toward another door further down the passage. His grip was firm but gentle, protective without being controlling. He tried the handle, but like the previous one, it remained stubbornly locked.
"Locked. Total shocker," Prompto remarked with palpable relief.
Noctis shrugged, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Hey, if it's something worth locking up..."
"It's worth seeking out," Gladio finished immediately, his deep voice resonating with the hunter's instinct that had been part of his training.
Another enormous crash shattered the momentary calm, making all of them whirl around. Rachel held Noctis tightly by the hand while grabbing his arm with her other hand, pressing herself against his side.
Prompto pointed back the way they had come. "It came from there," he whispered.
Noctis' expression hardened as he stared into the darkness ahead. The noises were growing more frequent, echoing through the ancient corridors.
"Come on," he said firmly. He pulled Rachel with him forward again, his grip protective yet urgent. The others followed them into a room when all of a sudden the lights turned off, leaving them in complete darkness.
"The hell?" Gladio's voice rumbled through the blackness.
"Somebody, turn on the light!" Prompto's panicked voice echoed off the stone walls.
Rachel's heart pounded in her chest as she stood frozen in the pitch darkness. She could feel Noctis' hand still gripping hers, his thumb brushing reassuringly across her knuckles despite the tension radiating from his body.
The lights flickered back on, and to Rachel's shock, they saw a few small creatures running around, laughing. Their skin was a sickly gray-green, with bulbous yellow eyes and pointed ears. They moved with jerky, unpredictable motions, their high-pitched cackles sending chills down her spine.
"Goblins!" Gladio growled, annoyance evident in his voice.
In an instant, weapons materialized in the hands of all four men. The crystalline blue light of their summoning briefly illuminated the chamber before solidifying into steel and silver. Noctis pulled Rachel behind him, his engine blade gleaming in the dim light.
"Stay back," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Rachel pressed herself against the cold stone wall as Noctis charged forward with the others. The goblins shrieked and scattered, their movements erratic but surprisingly quick. Gladio's massive greatsword cleaved through the air, catching one of the creatures mid-leap and sending it flying across the room. Ignis moved with calculated precision, his daggers flashing as he cornered another goblin against a pillar.
Prompto fired his pistol repeatedly, the shots echoing deafeningly in the enclosed space. One of the goblins dodged the bullets with surprising agility, cackling as it scurried between his legs. Noctis vanished in a flash of blue light, reappearing across the room to impale the creature with his blade.
The battle was chaotic but brief. Within moments, the last goblin fell to Ignis's daggers, its body dissolving into a strange, dark mist that dissipated into the air. The sudden silence felt almost as jarring as the creatures' laughter had been.
"I hate those little suckers," Prompto complained, dismissing his gun with a shake of his hand.
Noctis wiped sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the shadows for any movement. "Keep an eye out for any more," he warned, his weapon still at the ready.
They continued walking through the tomb's winding passages, everyone on high alert after the goblin encounter. Rachel's eyes darted nervously to every shadow, every corner where another creature might be lurking. The ancient stone walls seemed to close in around them, the air growing thicker and more oppressive with each step.
As they rounded another corner, Rachel spotted something the others had missed—a narrow gap between two sections of wall, barely visible in the dim light. She paused, studying it carefully. The space looked just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
She looked at the guys and nodded toward the gap. "Maybe we can try this way," she suggested, pointing to the narrow space.
Gladio stepped forward, eyeing the tight passage dubiously. "Let me go first."
Noctis' lips curved into a small smirk as he looked at his Shield's massive frame. "Can you fit in?" he asked, the joke offering a moment of levity in the tense atmosphere.
Gladio returned the smirk, accepting the challenge. "We're about to find out."
To everyone's surprise, the big man managed to maneuver through the narrow gap, though not without some grunting and a few muttered curses. Rachel chuckled as she looked at Noctis, amused by Gladio's determination. Noctis shrugged in response, his earlier tension momentarily forgotten.
"Clear," Gladio called from the other side, his voice slightly muffled by the stone between them.
Rachel went next, slipping easily through the narrow space. The rough stone scraped against her navy coat as she emerged into a large chamber on the other side. Noctis followed close behind, then Ignis and finally Prompto, who complained about the dust ruining his clothes.
They found themselves in a spacious area with high stone walls stretching up into darkness. Ancient carvings covered the surfaces, weathered by time but still distinguishable—scenes of battle and coronation, kings and their weapons. The air felt different here, heavy with age and something else—a faint vibration of power that seemed to emanate from deeper within.
A series of noises drew their attention to one side of the chamber—scraping sounds coming from inside an adjoining room. They approached cautiously, but when they entered, they found nothing there.
Gladio squinted into the dim corners of the room, his sharp eyes scanning every shadow. "Nothing. Nothing's here."
Rachel frowned, feeling like they were being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she glanced around the chamber, her eyes searching the shadows.
"No... I feel like we're not alone here."
Prompto shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other. "Oh, great."
Rachel heard movements above her and stepped aside, looking up to see two enormous spiders clinging to the ceiling. Each was easily the size of a large dog, their multiple eyes gleaming in the dim light as they stared down at her. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as they regarded her with what seemed like curious intelligence.
"Hello..." she said softly.
The guys spotted them too, their reactions immediate and varied. Gladio's hand went to his weapon, while Ignis stepped back to assess the threat. Noctis moved closer to Rachel, ready to pull her away if necessary.
"Oh, no," Prompto whispered, his face draining of color. "I hate spiders."
The two arachnids descended on silken threads, landing with surprising grace on the stone floor. Rachel slowly knelt down to look at them better. From their size and behavior, she guessed they were probably young—not fully grown specimens of whatever species they belonged to. She gave them a small smile, trying not to show she was a bit nervous. In Boston, she'd always been fine with spiders, but those had been tiny creatures. These, however, had legs that spanned at least three feet across and mandibles that could likely pierce leather.
Noctis tensed when Rachel reached toward one of them, his body coiled to spring into action if needed.
"We're not here to hurt you," Rachel said softly, her voice gentle and reassuring.
The spider nearest her hesitated, then leaned forward to meet her outstretched hand. As her fingers made contact with its bristled exoskeleton, the creature relaxed, its posture becoming less defensive.
The second spider approached cautiously, mandibles clicking in what almost seemed like language. It circled around to Rachel's side, keeping a watchful eye on the four men who stood frozen in various states of alarm.
"I think they're just curious," Rachel said, her voice still soft as she ran her fingers along the first spider's foreleg. "They probably don't get many visitors down here."
Prompto remained pressed against the wall, his face a mask of controlled terror. "Great. We're the entertainment portion of their day. Can we please move on before mama spider shows up?"
Suddenly the two spiders froze, their many eyes widening as they seemed to hear something beyond human perception. Without warning, they skittered away, their eight legs moving with alarming speed as they disappeared through a crack in the wall.
"What was that?" Noctis asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the spiders vanish.
Rachel stood up and frowned, her eyes fixed on the spot where the creatures had been moments before. Something felt wrong—a shift in the air, a vibration through the stone beneath her feet.
"I don't know," she said softly.
Without hesitation, she walked out of the room, following the direction the spiders had taken. Behind her, Noctis called out, "Rachel!" His voice echoed against the ancient stones, tension evident in the single word.
Rachel paused in the corridor, looking around for any sign of the spiders. The guys walked out after her, their footsteps quick and concerned as they caught up. Noctis reached for her arm, about to pull her back when something massive dropped from the ceiling directly in front of them.
"Oh..." Rachel breathed, the word barely audible as she stared up at the creature before them.
It was like nothing she had ever seen—a horrifying hybrid with the lower body of a gigantic spider and the torso of a woman. Its skin was a sickly gray-green, and its face, though humanoid in structure, was distorted by too many eyes and mandibles that clicked together menacingly. Long, matted hair hung around its shoulders, and its multiple arms ended in sharp, claw-like appendages.
Noctis pulled Rachel back as he and the others summoned their weapons in flashes of crystalline blue light. The hybrid tilted its head, its cluster of eyes focusing intently on Rachel. Something like recognition flickered across its inhuman features—a sense of kinship with the young woman's natural energy. But then it noticed Noctis pulling her aside, the four men standing protectively in front of her with weapons raised. The creature's posture changed instantly, becoming aggressive as it perceived them as threats to the one it recognized as special.
"Ew, disgusting," Prompto muttered, his gun trained on the hybrid's torso.
The four men charged forward as the creature lunged toward them, its spider legs skittering across the stone floor with unnatural speed. Gladio's greatsword arced through the air while Ignis flanked from the side, daggers glinting in the dim light.
Rachel's eyes widened as understanding dawned. She could see the hybrid wasn't attacking out of malice—it was protecting her, or at least what it perceived her to be. Without thinking, she darted forward, slipping between Noctis and the creature with her arms outstretched.
"Stop, stop!" she cried, her voice echoing through the chamber.
The hybrid pulled back immediately, its many legs scraping against stone as it retreated. It wouldn't harm her—couldn't harm her. Something ancient and powerful passed between them, an understanding deeper than words.
"Rach—" Noctis began, his voice tight with concern.
"It reacted because it thought you guys were going to harm me before it came," Rachel explained quickly, keeping her eyes on the creature. "You four had your weapons out when you grabbed me, Noct. It senses who I am."
The guys exchanged quick looks, their expressions moving from confusion to understanding as they studied the hybrid. Its posture had changed completely in Rachel's presence—less threatening, almost deferential.
Rachel turned back to the hybrid, her voice gentle as she addressed it. "It's okay," she said soothingly. The creature visibly relaxed, its many limbs settling into a more neutral position. "They're my friends. We need to go past please."
The hybrid considered her words, its multiple eyes blinking in sequence. After a moment that felt much longer than it was, it stepped aside, pressing its massive form against the wall to clear a path. With a final glance at Rachel, it retreated further into the shadows, leaving them alone.
The group stood in stunned silence for several seconds, processing what had just happened. Prompto was the first to break the spell, his blue eyes wide with amazement.
"Okay, that was unexpected. First animals, now hybrids? Is there anything you can't charm?" He shook his head in disbelief, holstering his gun with a practiced flick of his wrist.
Rachel shrugged softly, her gaze still lingering on the shadows where the creature had disappeared. "I just... noticed things. The way it looked at me, how it reacted when Noctis pulled me away." She brushed a strand of blonde hair from her face. "I could tell what was happening."
Ignis adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the dim light as he studied her with renewed interest. "Hmm. You weren't named 'Mother Nature' for nothing, it seems."
Gladio and Prompto nodded in agreement, exchanging knowing glances. The Shield's expression held a newfound respect, while the gunner simply looked impressed.
Noctis stepped closer to Rachel, his face tight with concern that bordered on anger. "That was way too risky," he said, his voice low but intense. "You could have gotten hurt." His blue eyes searched hers, haunted by the possibility. "What if it didn't work? What then?"
Rachel considered his words, her fingers absently playing with the sleeve of her new navy coat. After a moment, she met his gaze directly. "I didn't think about that," she admitted. "I just... went with my heart."
Noctis's jaw clenched, clearly displeased with her answer. The thought of Rachel putting herself in danger made something twist painfully in his chest. After everything he'd lost, the idea of losing her too was unbearable.
Gladio cleared his throat, breaking the tension between them. "We should go," he said firmly. "The tomb's waiting."
They walked through the passage the hybrid had guarded with Noctis leading. Rachel followed behind him, still bristling from their brief argument. She deliberately slowed her pace until she fell in step with Prompto instead. Her arms crossed over her chest, her lower lip jutting out slightly in a pout that made Prompto smile in amusement. The gunner nudged her gently with his elbow, trying to lighten her mood.
"Don't worry about it," he whispered. "He gets like this when he's scared for someone he cares about."
The narrow passage eventually opened into a circular chamber, its walls adorned with ancient carvings depicting kings of old. At the center stood a large stone door, ornate and imposing despite centuries of dust.
Noctis approached the door, fishing the key Cor had given him from his pocket. The metal caught what little light filtered through the ancient structure, gleaming dully as he inserted it into the keyhole. With a firm twist of his wrist, the mechanism inside clicked, and the massive door swung open on surprisingly silent hinges.
They filed into the tomb, their footsteps echoing against stone floors worn smooth by time. At the center of the circular room lay another sarcophagus, similar to the one they had seen earlier. Carved from dark stone, it bore the likeness of a king in repose, hands folded over the hilt of a magnificent axe.
Noctis approached the sarcophagus alone, his companions hanging back in respectful silence. Rachel watched him, her earlier irritation fading as she observed the gravity with which he carried himself. This was no longer just Noctis—this was a king claiming his birthright, one painful piece at a time.
He stood before the stone effigy and raised his hand, palm outward. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the axe clutched in the stone king's hands began to stir. It rose slowly from its centuries-old resting place, glowing with an ethereal blue light that cast eerie shadows across Noctis's face.
The weapon hovered above the sarcophagus, spinning slowly as if examining its new master. Then, with sudden purpose, it turned and shot directly toward Noctis's chest. The impact drove him back several steps, his face contorting in a mixture of pain and wonder as light erupted from the point of contact.
Two spectral weapons—the sword from the first tomb and now this axe—circled around him in a dance of ancient magic, leaving trails of blue light in their wake. Rachel gasped softly, her hand instinctively reaching for Prompto's arm as she watched the ritual unfold.
Gradually, the intense glow faded, the spectral weapons disappearing as their power was absorbed into Noctis's being. He stood there for a moment, one hand pressed to his chest, his breathing ragged but controlled.
"You okay?" Gladio asked, his deep voice breaking the reverent silence.
Noctis nodded, straightening his shoulders. "Yeah," he replied, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed the physical toll the absorption had taken. "Let's go."
They made their way back through the winding passages, retracing their steps through the ancient structure. The hybrid was nowhere to be seen as they passed through its territory, though Rachel could sense its presence somewhere in the shadows, watching over their departure.
When they finally emerged into the open air, the contrast was jarring. Sunlight bathed the landscape in warm afternoon gold, a stark change from the tomb's perpetual twilight. Rachel tilted her face upward, closing her eyes briefly to savor the warmth on her skin. Above them, Blaze circled lazily, his golden feathers catching the sunlight as he welcomed their return.
The moment of peace was interrupted by the shrill ring of Noctis's phone. He pulled it from his pocket with a slight grimace, glancing at the screen before answering.
"Yeah?" he said, his voice still carrying traces of fatigue from the ordeal in the tomb. He listened for a moment, his expression shifting from exhaustion to focus. "Just busy building my arsenal."
He paused again, listening to the voice on the other end while absently running a hand through his dark hair. The afternoon sun highlighted the tension in his features as he sighed deeply.
"Alright, we'll see to it tomorrow." Another pause as he nodded slightly, eyes fixed on the horizon. He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket, turning to face the others who waited expectantly for information.
"Cor," he explained simply. "Checking up on us and asked about the third tomb. It'll have to wait until tomorrow. I need a break."
"Hear, hear," Prompto agreed enthusiastically. "So, what's the plan? Find a haven and make camp?"
The idea of another night on hard ground clearly didn't appeal to any of them after the trials of the day. Their clothes were dusty, their muscles aching from the fights and tension of navigating the tomb.
"What about going back to Galdin Quay?" Prompto suggested, his face brightening at the thought. "Real beds, hot showers, actual food that doesn't come from a can..."
"Sounds good to me," Gladio rumbled, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness.
Noctis glanced at Rachel, who had been unusually quiet since they left the tomb. Their eyes met briefly, his gaze softening just a little as he took in her tired expression. "Yeah," he agreed. "Let's head back to Galdin."
The decision made, they trudged back to where they had left the Regalia. The sleek black car waited for them, its polished surface reflecting the late afternoon sun. Ignis slid into the driver's seat without comment, clearly sensing that Noctis was in no condition to drive after absorbing another royal arm.
Noctis sat in the passenger seat, which made Rachel pout lightly again, but she sat between Gladio and Prompto. The tension between them was palpable; Noctis had barely spoken to her since they left the tomb, his profile rigid as he stared out the window. His anger wasn't entirely about her approaching the hybrid—it was the accumulation of everything: her constantly putting herself at risk, the way animals and monsters seemed drawn to her, and his own helplessness to protect her from herself.
Rachel caught his reflection in the side mirror, the hard set of his jaw, the distant look in his eyes that seemed focused on something miles away. She sighed softly and turned her attention to the passing landscape, trying to ignore the weight of his silence.
The drive back to Galdin Quay was quiet, with even Prompto sensing the mood and keeping his usual chatter to a minimum. Occasionally he would glance between Rachel and Noctis, opening his mouth as if to say something before thinking better of it and looking away. Gladio pretended to read a book, though he hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes.
By the time they reached the resort, the sun was setting over the ocean, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink. The beauty of it was almost painful against the backdrop of their collective exhaustion and Noctis's simmering anger.
Ignis parked the Regalia smoothly, the engine purring to a stop as they all climbed out. Rachel stretched, feeling the stiffness in her muscles from sitting too long after the day's exertions. Above them, Blaze circled once before settling on a nearby lamppost, his golden feathers catching the last rays of sunlight.
"I'll check if there are rooms available," Ignis offered, his voice breaking the extended silence.
"I'll come with you," Prompto added quickly, clearly eager for a break from the tension. "Could use a stretch anyway."
As the two walked toward the resort's entrance, Rachel leaned against the car, arms crossed over her chest. She could feel Noctis's eyes on her, though he made no move to approach. Gladio stood between them, his frame somehow making the silence less oppressive as he pretended to be engrossed in something on his phone.
"You should talk to him," Gladio said suddenly, his voice low enough that only Rachel could hear.
She glanced up at him in surprise. "He doesn't want to talk to me right now."
Gladio snorted softly. "Kid's got a temper, but he cares about you. That's why he's angry."
Before Rachel could respond, Prompto and Ignis returned, their expressions telling different stories. Prompto was practically bouncing on his heels with barely suppressed excitement, while Ignis looked resigned, adjusting his glasses with a slight sigh.
"I'm afraid accommodations are limited tonight," Ignis announced. "There are only two rooms available."
"Two?" Gladio echoed, raising an eyebrow.
Ignis nodded. "Yes. One with two queen beds, and one with a single king." He held up two card keys, turning to Rachel. "Perhaps you would prefer the king room, for privacy?"
Rachel hesitated, glancing at Noctis who still hadn't said a word. Behind him, Prompto was making frantic gestures, nodding vigorously and mouthing "Take Noct!" while pointing between them. His lack of subtlety was almost comical, especially with Ignis pretending not to notice.
She took the card key from Ignis, her fingers closing around the plastic as she considered her options. The tension with Noctis needed to be addressed, and perhaps privacy was exactly what they needed.
"Thank you," she said softly, slipping the key into her pocket.
Prompto stepped forward, clapping a hand on Noctis's shoulder. "So, you're bunking with Rachel tonight, right buddy?"
Noctis shot him a glare that could have melted stone. "Subtle, Prompto."
Prompto grinned, completely unfazed. "Hey, someone's gotta make the first move, and you two are hopeless."
Gladio chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "He's got a point."
Noctis let out a breath. Prompto glanced between them.
"Rachy, don't hate me for what I'm about to say..." He looked between her and Noctis. "You two grab your bags, and go upstairs and talk. Either that or I'll lock you two up again."
Rachel let out a breath and grabbed her bag. Noctis reached into the trunk to grab his. They started to walk.
"Oh! Oh, wait, Noct!" Prompto quickly moved to him and whispered something to Noctis' ear. Noctis' eyes grew a little wide before he hit Prompto in the head again, his ears a little red now.
"Shut it," Noctis growled.
Rachel and Noctis walked into the hotel, leaving behind a grinning Prompto who let out a chuckle. Blaze was about to fly to the windows, but Prompto whispered, "Hey, no! Blaze, stay!" The eagle landed on the roof of the car with a disgruntled ruffle of feathers.
Alone, Rachel and Noctis rode on the elevator to floor 6. They walked to the room with their number, and unlocked the door, stepping inside. Noctis turned on the lights.
The king suite was spacious and elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of the moonlit ocean. Neither of them spoke as they set their bags down near the door. The silence between them felt heavier than the royal arms Noctis had absorbed that day, weighed with unspoken words and simmering tension.
Rachel moved to the window, arms crossed over her chest as she gazed out at the silvery path the moon cast across the water. Behind her, Noctis ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he tried to find the right words to break the impasse.
"I'm still mad at you," he finally said, his voice softer than she'd expected.
Rachel turned, leaning back against the window. "I know."
"You could have gotten yourself killed today." The words came out strained, as though he was fighting to keep his voice level. "That... thing... could have torn you apart."
"But it didn't," Rachel countered. She pushed away from the window, taking a step toward him. "I knew it wouldn't hurt me. I could feel it."
Noctis shook his head, frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw. "That's not the point. You didn't know for sure. You took a risk—a stupid, unnecessary risk."
"It wasn't stupid," she argued, color rising in her cheeks. "It worked, didn't it? Nobody got hurt. We got through."
"This time." Noctis's eyes darkened. "What about next time? Or the time after that? You can't just keep throwing yourself at every monster we come across and hope your... whatever it is... works every time."
Rachel's eyes flashed. "My 'whatever it is' has a name. It's who I am, Noctis. It's who I've always been, even when I didn't remember who that was." She took another step forward, close enough now that he could see the flecks of darker blue in her eyes. "I'm not going to apologize for using the one thing that makes me... me."
Noctis stared at her for a long moment, his anger warring with understanding. The moonlight streaming through the window caught in her blonde hair, illuminating the determination in her eyes. Something in his expression softened, though the worry remained.
"I know it's who you are," he admitted finally, his voice quieter. "That's what scares me. You don't think before you act. You just... do what feels right. And I can't—" He broke off, looking away. "I can't lose you too."
The raw honesty in his voice made Rachel's indignation fade. She understood then that his anger wasn't about control but fear—the same fear that had haunted his eyes since they'd stood on that overlook and watched his kingdom burn.
"I'm sorry I scared you," she said softly. "But I'm not sorry I helped us get through safely."
Noctis nodded slowly, accepting the compromise in her words. "Just... promise me you'll be more careful. At least try to warn us before you decide to make friends with the next monster we meet."
A small smile tugged at Rachel's lips. "I promise."
The tension between them eased, though it didn't disappear entirely. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, the enormity of everything that had happened in the past days hanging between them like an invisible barrier.
"I'll take the couch," Noctis finally said, nodding toward the small seating area near the window.
Rachel glanced at the king-sized bed, then back at the narrow couch that would barely accommodate his frame. "Don't be ridiculous. The bed is huge, and we slept near each other yesterday."
"That was different," Noctis pointed out, his voice dropping slightly. "We weren't... alone."
The implication of his words settled over Rachel as she realized what he meant. Yesterday, they'd been surrounded by the others, sleeping in the ruins with Ignis keeping watch. Tonight, they were completely alone in this room, with no one to interrupt or observe them. The memory of their kiss in the hotel room flooded back, bringing warmth to her cheeks.
"Oh," she said softly, blinking as understanding dawned. "Right." She nodded lightly, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "I think I'll go take a shower."
Noctis watched as she grabbed her bag and retreated to the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click behind her. He exhaled slowly, running his hands through his hair as he listened to the water start running. The sound of it reminded him of the rain they'd driven through earlier, of Insomnia burning in the distance, of everything that had changed in so short a time.
Warm steam billowed from the bathroom as Rachel emerged, her skin flushed from the hot shower. She'd changed into her soft navy-blue pajama set, the material clinging slightly to her still-damp skin. Her blonde hair hung in damp waves around her shoulders as she padded barefoot across the plush carpet.
"Your turn," she said softly.
Noctis nodded, grabbing his things before disappearing into the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, Rachel heard the shower start again, the sound of water hitting tile filling the momentary silence.
She moved to the window, drawing the heavy curtains closed against the night. Through the gap, she caught a glimpse of golden feathers glinting in the moonlight—Blaze was perched on a balcony railing several rooms away, keeping watch over the three men who had become her unexpected companions in this strange journey. The sight brought a small smile to her lips; at least she knew where he was tonight.
With the curtains drawn, the room felt more intimate, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the walls. Rachel sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the silken comforter as her mind drifted back to yesterday.
In the midst of catastrophe and grief, there had been that moment in the hotel room—Noctis's voice low and intense as he'd looked at her. "Just say the word and I won't marry her." The memory made her heart race, the implications of his offer too vast to fully comprehend even now.
She remembered the weight of his gaze, the barely concealed hope and fear in his eyes as he'd laid his future at her feet. A future that had seemed so certain—his marriage to Luna, the alliance between their kingdoms—now thrown into question by her unexpected return.
Rachel let out a breath, the sound barely audible over the running water. What right did she have to answer? To claim him when the world was falling apart around them? When her own sister—a woman she couldn't even remember—was waiting for him?
The water shut off abruptly, jerking her from her thoughts. A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Noctis emerged, dressed in black sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. His dark hair was still damp, falling in messy strands across his forehead. Without the styled spikes and royal raiment, he looked younger, more vulnerable—the boy beneath the burden of kingship.
His eyes met hers briefly before sliding away. "I'll take the couch," he said quietly, already turning toward the seating area.
Rachel stood up abruptly. "Noct, wait." The nickname slipped out naturally, as though she'd been using it all her life.
He paused, looking back at her with an unreadable expression.
"Did you mean what you said yesterday?" The words tumbled out before she could reconsider them. "About... about not marrying Luna if I just said the word?"
Noctis turned to face her fully, his expression serious as he studied her face. After a moment that felt much longer than it was, he nodded once. "Yeah," he said simply. "I meant it."
Rachel took a step closer to him, her heart hammering in her chest. "I know it's not fair," she said softly. "I know I shouldn't even be saying this, but..." She swallowed hard, gathering her courage. "I don't want you to marry my sister."
The confession hung between them, honest and painful in its selfishness. Rachel felt a flush of shame creep up her neck, but she continued anyway.
"I don't know what happens now since the—"
She never finished the sentence. In two quick strides, Noctis closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to frame her face as his lips captured hers. The kiss was desperate, hungry, filled with all the words they hadn't said and the fears they couldn't name. Rachel's initial surprise melted away as she responded, her hands finding purchase against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.
What had begun as impulse quickly transformed into something deeper, more urgent. Noctis's fingers slid into her damp hair, cradling the back of her head as he deepened the kiss. Rachel's hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, then to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them.
Other Pairing: Ravus Nox Fleuret x Aranea Highwind, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret x Gladiolus Amicitia
The Regalia hummed to life beneath Ignis's skilled hands, engine purring despite the rough treatment of the past day. Dawn had barely broken, the sky still streaked with the fading violet of night as they piled into the car. No one spoke as they settled in—words seemed inadequate against the weight of all they'd witnessed.
Rachel slid into the middle of the backseat. Gladio's hulking form took up position to her right, while Noctis claimed the space to her left. Their shoulders pressed against hers, a solid reminder that she wasn't alone in this nightmare. Up front, Prompto fidgeted with his camera strap, occasionally glancing back at the three of them with concern etched across his usually cheerful features.
Ignis adjusted the rearview mirror, his green eyes briefly meeting Rachel's before focusing on the road ahead. "Hammerhead should be approximately two hours from our position," he said, breaking the heavy silence.
Noctis said nothing, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape as Ignis guided the Regalia away from the ruins where they'd spent the night. The windows were rolled down, the cool morning air rushing through the car and tousling their hair. Rachel could feel the tension radiating from Noctis's body beside her—coiled tight as a spring, ready to snap at any moment.
As they drove, the sky darkened. Clouds rolled in from the east, gray and heavy with moisture. The first drops of rain pattered against the windshield like hesitant fingertips, soft and almost apologetic.
"Looks like we're in for some weather again," Gladio observed, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet car.
Ignis smoothly engaged the wipers as the rainfall intensified slightly, though it remained gentle—nothing like the downpour of the previous day. The rhythmic swish of the blades across the glass matched the cadence of Rachel's heartbeat, steady despite everything.
Above them, Blaze soared higher, wings spread wide as he navigated above the clouds where the sun still shone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Almost two hours of driving, they reached Hammerhead. The rain had stopped by the time they arrived, leaving behind puddles that reflected the neon signs of the outpost. The Regalia's tires crunched on the wet gravel as Ignis pulled into the familiar service station.
As they exited the car, stretching stiff limbs and squinting against the sudden brightness, Cindy approached them. Her usual cheerful demeanor was subdued, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she took in their haggard appearances.
"Glad you all could make it," she said, wiping her hands on a rag tucked into her belt.
Cindy shook her head slightly. "Left to see business, and left y'all a message with Paw-paw." She nodded toward the garage where her grandfather could be seen tinkering with an engine part.
Without a word, Noctis headed for the garage, his shoulders set in a determined line. Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio exchanged quick glances before following him, each nodding respectfully to Cindy as they passed.
Rachel remained by the car, uncertain whether to follow or stay behind. The decision was made for her when Cindy approached.
"Heard some stuff from Paw-paw," Cindy said quietly, tilting her head as she studied Rachel's face. Her eyes were searching, curious but kind. "You remember things?"
Rachel hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The question carried weight beyond its simple words—an acknowledgment of an identity she was still struggling to accept. After a moment, she nodded slightly.
"A little," she admitted.
Cindy's expression softened, a genuine smile replacing her earlier concern. "Don't you worry, I won't tell anyone," she assured Rachel, reaching out to squeeze her arm gently.
The implication was clear—Cindy knew who she really was. Rachel felt a curious mix of relief and apprehension wash over her.
"Thank you," Rachel said, managing a small smile in return.
"It's good to have you back," Cindy said, her voice warm with sincerity. "Been too long."
She glanced up at the sky, where dark clouds still lingered despite the rain having stopped. "Listen, it may get winder during this time of year—sometimes warm, sometimes cold. You're gonna need something better than that thin jacket you've got on."
Rachel looked down at her current outfit, which was hardly suitable for the changing weather.
"Come on," Cindy said, gently touching her arm. "Let's get you something proper to wear."
She led Rachel across the lot toward the Mini-Mart. As they entered, a bell jingled overhead. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged woman with graying hair pulled back in a practical ponytail.
Cindy looked at the cashier. "Hey, Jo. Give my friend here a coat for the road. On me."
Jo nodded, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "Sure, come in, pick the clothes behind the corner there." She gestured toward the back of the store.
"I'll let the boys know you're here, so they won't worry," Cindy told Rachel, already backing toward the door.
"Thanks," Rachel replied softly, grateful for Cindy's kindness. It was a small gesture, but in a world that had turned upside down overnight, small kindnesses felt monumental.
"Pick something up, it's on me," Cindy told her before stepping outside, the bell jingling again as the door closed behind her.
Rachel walked around the corner where there were shelves and hangers with clothes, summer and winter separated neatly. She browsed through the selection, running her fingers over different fabrics and materials. Through the window, she glanced outside and saw Blaze was sitting on one of the light poles.
Rachel grabbed one of the coats, a soft navy blue one. The material was sturdy but comfortable, lined with something warm that would keep the chill away. She slipped it on, finding it fit her well enough—a bit loose, but that would allow for layering underneath when necessary.
She looked at herself in the small mirror mounted on the wall. Rachel turned slightly, checking the fit from different angles, then slipped it off and carried it to the counter.
The cashier took it with a smile, snipping the tag with a small pair of scissors before folding it neatly. "This'll serve you well," she said, handing it back. "Weather's been unpredictable lately."
"Thank you," Rachel replied, accepting the coat with genuine gratitude.
She stepped outside into the cool air, the familiar scents of gasoline and motor oil mingling with the petrichor from the recent rain. Blaze watched her from his perch atop the light pole, his golden eyes following her movement across the lot. Rachel walked to the Regalia and laid her thin jacket on the hood, then slipped on her new coat. The lining was soft against her skin, instantly warming her against the light breeze.
She had just grabbed her jacket from the hood when she spotted the boys emerging from the garage. Their expressions were grim, particularly Noctis's, whose face had hardened into something almost unrecognizable—the boy from last night replaced by someone older, sharper, forged in the crucible of loss.
Gladio walked slightly behind him, while Ignis and Prompto flanked their prince on either side. They moved with purpose now, the aimless shock of yesterday burned away by whatever news Cid had delivered.
"You look ready for action," Prompto said as they approached, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Rachel nodded, folding her old jacket over her arm. "Cindy thought I needed something warmer." She hesitated, then asked the question hanging in the air. "What's the plan?"
Noctis's eyes met hers, and she was startled by the intensity she found there—grief transmuted into determination, rage channeled into purpose.
"We're going to the royal tomb," he said, his voice steady despite the storm Rachel could sense beneath the surface. "Cor's waiting for us there."
"Royal tomb?" Rachel echoed, brow furrowing in confusion.
Ignis stepped forward, adjusting his glasses with practiced precision. "The kings of Lucis are each laid to rest in tombs scattered throughout the realm," he explained. "Within each lies a power that only Noct can claim."
"The power of kings," Gladio added, his deep voice rumbling with significance. "Cor says it's time for Noct to start collecting it."
Rachel absorbed this, another piece of the puzzle that was Noctis's life—and by extension, her own forgotten past. She nodded slowly, fingers tightening around her folded jacket.
"When do we leave?" she asked.
"Now," Noctis replied, moving toward the driver's side of the Regalia. "Ignis, I'll take the wheel."
Ignis raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, instead sliding into the passenger seat with a nod of acquiescence. The others arranged themselves in the back, leaving space for Rachel between Gladio and Prompto.
As she settled into her seat, Rachel caught sight of Blaze taking flight from his perch on the light pole. The eagle's wings spread wide against the cloudy sky, golden feathers catching what little sunlight broke through. He circled once above the Regalia before setting off in the direction they were headed, as if guiding their way.
Noctis started the engine, the Regalia purring to life beneath his hands. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white with determination or fury—perhaps both. Without a word, he put the car in gear and pulled away from Hammerhead, leaving behind the brief sanctuary they had found there.
As they drove, Rachel watched the landscape change around them. The terrain grew more rugged, scrubland giving way to rocky outcroppings and sparse vegetation. The clouds overhead continued to thin, allowing more sunlight to break through in golden shafts that painted the world in stark contrasts of light and shadow.
"So," Prompto broke the silence, his voice pitched carefully casual, "these royal arms. What exactly are they?"
Ignis turned slightly in his seat. "Weapons of exceptional power, forged for the kings of old. Legend has it that each ruler commissioned a unique armament that was entombed with them upon their death."
"And Noct can just... take them?" Rachel asked, trying to understand.
"Not take," Gladio corrected. "Absorb. The power becomes part of him."
Rachel glanced at Noctis's profile, noting the tightness around his eyes, the rigid set of his shoulders. "Does it hurt?" she asked softly, the question slipping out before she could stop it.
Noctis's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, meeting hers briefly. "Don't know," he admitted. "Never done it before."
The conversation lapsed into silence again, each person lost in their own thoughts as the Regalia ate up the miles. Rachel watched Noctis's reflection in the mirror, seeing glimpses of the boy she'd kissed in the hotel room beneath the hardened exterior he now wore like armor. She wondered if that boy would ever fully return, or if the weight of kingship would forever change him.
The road curved sharply, revealing a massive stone arch in the distance—ancient and weathered, yet still standing against the ravages of time. Beyond it, nestled against a cliff face, stood what appeared to be a small stone structure.
Noctis brought the Regalia to a stop at the base of the stone arch, the tires crunching against loose gravel as the engine fell silent. The tomb loomed ahead—an ancient structure of weathered stone, standing sentinel against the passage of time.
"This is it," he said, his voice tight with anticipation and dread. "Cor should be waiting inside."
Everyone climbed out of the car, doors closing with subdued thuds that echoed against the rocky terrain. Rachel adjusted her new coat, grateful for its warmth against the cool breeze that swept down from the hills. Blaze circled overhead before perching on a nearby boulder, his golden feathers a stark contrast to the gray stone.
They began walking toward the entrance, boots scraping against the rough path. The tomb's entrance was framed by intricate carvings—symbols of the Lucian royal line that Rachel didn't recognize but that seemed to resonate with something deep inside her.
A harsh screeching noise cut through the air, stopping them in their tracks. The boys immediately tensed, heads snapping upward.
"Great. Daggerquill," Gladio growled, annoyance dripping from every syllable.
Rachel followed their gaze to see several brightly colored birds circling the tomb. Their wings stretched at least four feet across, with feathers in vivid shades of crimson and turquoise that seemed too beautiful for the menacing way they moved. As if sensing they'd been noticed, the creatures banked sharply and dove toward the group.
"I hate those guys," Prompto whined, reaching for his gun.
In a flash of crystalline light, weapons appeared in the hands of all four men—Noctis with his engine blade, Gladio wielding his massive greatsword, Ignis gripping his daggers, and Prompto aiming his pistol skyward.
Rachel took a step forward, past the guys as she stared up at the birds.
"Rachel, get back!" Noctis grabbed her arm, his eyes wide with alarm. The daggerquills circled lower, their sharp beaks gleaming in the sunlight.
"Wait, I got this. Trust me." She met his gaze, steady and certain despite the danger swirling above them.
Noctis hesitated, conflict evident in his eyes. His protective instinct warred with something deeper—recognition, perhaps, of the power that had always been hers. After a few seconds, he released her arm, stepping back with reluctance etched in every line of his body.
Rachel turned to the birds as one of them, bolder than the rest, descended and landed directly in front of her. Its vibrant plumage rippled in the breeze as it fixed her with intelligent eyes. The creature screeched, a warning that made Prompto flinch, but Rachel remained calm. She held her hand slowly toward it, palm open and unthreatening.
"It's okay, big guy," she said softly.
With careful movements, she placed her hand on the daggerquill's head. The bird went still beneath her touch, its aggressive posture melting away.
"It's okay," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
The daggerquill relaxed completely, leaning into her touch like a cat might nuzzle against its owner. Its eyes—previously sharp with predatory intent—softened as they looked into Rachel's blue ones. The bird seemed to sense what Blaze and any other animal she met had always known.
One by one, the other daggerquills landed around them, their wings folding as they settled on the rocky ground. What had moments ago been a threatening flock now resembled nothing so much as an audience, attentive and curious.
"No one's here to hurt you and your friends," Rachel assured them, still stroking the head of the first bird.
One by one, the crystalline weapons of the four men disappeared in flashes of blue light. Noctis's expression softened, relief mingling with pride as he watched Rachel communicate with the creature. Beside him, Ignis nodded in approval, while Prompto stared in open-mouthed amazement, still captivated by her gift despite having witnessed it before.
"Can you let us pass?" Rachel asked softly, her fingers gently stroking the daggerquill's vibrant plumage.
The bird pulled from her touch and turned to the rest of the birds, calling out in a series of sharp trills and whistles that echoed against the stone ruins. The message seemed clear even to those who couldn't understand the language of birds. One by one, the daggerquills took flight, wings beating powerfully as they rose into the air and scattered across the sky.
The one she had bonded with turned back to her and gave a soft call, its intelligent eyes fixed on hers one last time.
Rachel smiled as the creature spread its wings and soared after its friends. She turned to find all four men staring at her—first watching the retreating birds, then shifting their gazes to her with expressions ranging from amazement to respect.
"He says good luck," Rachel said, shrugging lightly.
"I got to admit, I'm impressed once again," Gladio smirked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Forgot you can talk to those guys too."
"Nicely done," Ignis said, adjusting his glasses with a slight smile.
They all started to walk to the tomb. The stone path beneath their feet was worn smooth by centuries of pilgrims, though few had come this way in recent years. The air grew cooler as they approached the entrance, carrying the musty scent of ancient stone and forgotten history.
They walked inside and down the hall to a single door that was leading to a room. Rachel looked around; the walls were lined with statues, all of them holding shields to their right, except for one. The one right in the middle of the wall stood there, hands folded in front looking right at the center of the room. There was what she could have described as a sort of sarcophagus. This former King laid there, eyes closed, depicted in armor, holding a sword. Next to it was Cor, who turned to them when they walked in.
"Marshal," Ignis acknowledged with a respectful nod.
Cor returned the nod, his eyes moving over each of them before settling on Noctis. "At last, Your Highness."
Noctis approached the sarcophagus, a scowl darkening his features as he stared down at the stone effigy. "Yeah, wanna tell me what I'm here for?"
Cor lifted his hand above the stone sword on the tomb. "The power of Kings, passed from the old to the new through the bonding of souls. One such soul lies before you. To claim your forebears' power is your birthright and duty as King."
Noctis stared at the Marshal, his jaw clenching as anger flashed in his eyes. The weight of everything that had happened—the fall of Insomnia, his father's death, the responsibilities now thrust upon him—seemed to crystallize in this moment, hardening into a bitter edge in his voice.
"My duty as King of what?" he demanded, his tone harsh and cutting in the tomb's stillness.
Rachel flinched at the raw pain in his words. She watched his shoulders tense, saw how his hands curled into fists at his sides. The others remained silent, sensing this confrontation had been building since they'd first seen the smoke rising from the Crown City.
Cor's expression remained impassive, though his eyes reflected a deep understanding of Noctis's grief. "Now is not the time to question your calling. A King is sworn to protect his people."
Noctis let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing coldly against the stone walls. "And yet he chose to protect only one Prince. Was that his calling? Forsake the masses to spare his own son?"
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and painful. Prompto shifted uncomfortably, while Ignis and Gladio exchanged glances, both understanding that this was a necessary confrontation—the poison of doubt and anger had to be drawn out before healing could begin.
Cor's gaze hardened, his voice taking on an edge of steel. "How long will you remain the protected? The King entrusted the role of protector to you."
Noctis stepped closer to the sarcophagus, his eyes fixed on the Marshal. When he spoke again, his voice was calm but trembling with barely contained fury.
"'Entrusted' it to me? Then why didn't he tell me that? Why did he stand there smiling as I left? Why—" His control finally shattered. He slammed his hand against the side of the sarcophagus, the sound reverberating through the chamber.
Rachel jumped at the sudden violence of the gesture. She wanted to go to him, to offer some comfort, but Gladio's hand on her shoulder kept her in place. This was something Noctis needed to work through himself.
Noctis closed his eyes, his face transforming from anger to something more vulnerable—a deep, aching sadness that made him look suddenly young and lost. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Why did he lie to me?"
The question wasn't just about his father's final deception, but about everything—the peace treaty that was never meant to be, the future that had been planned for him without his knowledge, the burden he now carried alone.
Cor's expression softened slightly, his own grief for King Regis momentarily visible beneath his stoic exterior. "That day, he didn't want you to remember him as the king. In what time you had left, he wanted to be your father." The Marshal paused, his gaze steady on Noctis's face. "He always had faith in you, that when the time came, you would ascend for the sake of your people."
The chamber fell silent as Cor's words settled over them. Each person present felt the weight of that faith—a belief in Noctis that had cost Regis everything.
Slowly, Noctis raised his head. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, his voice still unsteady as he spoke. "Guess he left me no choice."
For a moment, he stood perfectly still, taking a deep breath as though gathering himself for what came next. Then he closed his eyes, centering himself in this moment of inheritance.
When he opened them again, his gaze swept over the sarcophagus with a mixture of anger and acceptance. He raised his hand, a gesture both commanding and surrendering.
The sword clutched in the stone king's hands responded to his call. It began to rise slowly, lifting away from its centuries-old resting place. As it ascended, it started to glow with an ethereal blue light that intensified until it was almost blinding.
Everyone shielded their eyes against the brilliant radiance. Rachel felt Blaze's presence beside her, the eagle having followed them into the tomb, his feathers brushing against her leg as he watched the ancient magic unfold.
When they looked again, the sword was hovering above the sarcophagus, suspended in mid-air, pulsing with power. Then, as if making its decision, it turned and shot directly toward Noctis's chest.
The impact drove him back several steps. His hands flew to his chest as light erupted from the point of contact, illuminating his features in harsh blue relief. A spectral image of the sword circled around him, leaving trails of light in its wake.
The others watched in awed silence as the glow gradually faded, the sword's essence absorbed into Noctis's being. When it was done, he stood there looking more than a little overwhelmed, his breathing heavy, eyes wide with the shock of what he had just experienced.
Cor stepped forward, resting a hand on Noctis's shoulder as the young man regained his composure. "The power of Kings goes with you, Your Majesty."
Noctis's eyes grew wide in realization before he went quiet. The title—Your Majesty—landed with a weight he wasn't prepared for. No longer Your Highness, no longer Prince. The change in address confirmed what he had been avoiding: his father was truly gone, and he was king now.
"That's not the only power your forebears left you," Cor continued, his voice steady and certain. "Your journey's just begun. Another tomb lies close by. I suggest you head there next. There are tombs scattered across the land. All are on dangerous ground. I'll go with you, for the time being."
The group filed out of the ancient structure, each lost in their own thoughts. Gladio walked with his usual vigilance, eyes scanning the horizon for potential threats. Prompto's steps were lighter, relieved that the tense confrontation had passed. Ignis moved with purpose, his mind already calculating routes and strategies for their next destination.
Rachel emerged into the sunlight, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Blaze soared overhead, circling once before flying ahead to scout their path. The air felt different somehow—charged with the power they had just witnessed, or perhaps with the shift in Noctis's status that had occurred within those stone walls.
"So, just how many of these powers are out there?" she asked, breaking the silence as they walked to the second tomb.
Cor glanced back at her. "There are 13 known royal arms, each enshrined at a royal tomb, though we know the location of only a few. I've enlisted the help of the Hunters. They comb the land in search of the lost tombs."
Rachel noticed Noctis trailing behind everyone, so she took steps back to go with him. His face was paler than usual, his eyes distant as he processed everything that had happened. The absorption of the royal arm had clearly taken a physical toll, but it was the emotional weight that seemed to be crushing him now.
"Hey," she said softly, falling into step beside him. "You okay?"
Noctis shrugged, a gesture that might have seemed casual if not for the tension in his shoulders. "Been better," he admitted, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Rachel hesitated but then placed her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. About your Dad," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Noctis didn't say anything and continued to look ahead. Rachel dropped her hand from his arm but then he took her hand in his gloved one. The warmth of his grip surprised her, firm yet gentle as his fingers curled around hers.
Something unspoken passed between them in that moment of contact—a current of shared grief and understanding that needed no words. For Noctis, her touch was an anchor, keeping him tethered when everything threatened to drift away. For Rachel, his hand holding hers was permission to remain close, even in his darkest hour.
