Extraction
Part Four
Pairing: Simon x F! Heir/F! Reader Word count: 4363 Spoilers: Yes Part One │ Part Two │ Part Three
(AN: I'm sorry this part took a little longer. It gave me some trouble and tried to go in a direction I wasn't quite ready for yet. I got it figured out in the end though! Thank you for all of your support and kind words, it's been amazing and motivating for me!)
Simon and Fiero stare at each other while the Rathalos’s flames slowly fade. Then the Vermeilian looks past Simon to Eleanor.
“Is it true? Are they wed?” he asks.
She nods without hesitation, though her knuckles are white where she is gripping the leather of Gaul’s armor.
Fiero seems to consider this for a moment before returning his attention to Simon. “Why should that stay my hand?”
Simon’s teeth are bared in a ferocious snarl. “Touch a single hair on her head and Vermeil no longer has a Skyscale Rathalos.”
“He is battle-bound. He will obey.”
“Even if you try to turn him against me? I don’t think you want to test that theory.”
For a few breaths, the only sound in the gorge is the wind and the beating of monster wings. Finally, Fiero makes a dismissive gesture.
“Very well, we’ll do it your way. But you will come with me to report this to the queen.”
“Simon.” Gaul’s face is a mask, but you can see that even as hampered as he would be with Eleanor clinging to him, he has every intention of fighting to protect you. His tone is as deadly as the look in his eyes. “You know we can’t allow you to take the captain.”
A quick look at the rest of the Rangers is enough to convince you that they too are ready to go to battle in your defense. A tendril of true fear slithers down your spine. The gorge is too narrow for an aerial battle; there would be no room to maneuver. Besides that, Fiero has the double-advantage of altitude and a lack of scruples. You have no expectation that he would fight fair. True, he is outnumbered, but the thought that one of your friends or their monsties could get hurt on your behalf is unbearable.
“Stand down,” you tell them. “Gaul, you said it yourself: if anything happens to me, someone needs to tell the king. That is your duty now.”
He starts to argue, but Kora lifts a hand. “The princess has given us an order,” she says. Her face is calm but her contempt obvious as she looks at Simon. “You had better keep her safe.”
He nods, but she looks away, her mouth twisted with disgust.
The Rangers wheel their monsties back toward the abandoned village and disappear around a bend in the gorge without waiting for Fiero’s response. He doesn’t spare them a glance, apparently unconcerned about Azuria’s possible response to his actions. Instead, he studies you as though you are a bug, fascinating but unpleasant, and beneath you Ratha gives a low rumble of warning. You soothe him with a gentle touch to his neck, and while you can still sense his protective fury, he settles under your hand.
Fiero’s eyes flick to Simon. “You, move to the Rathalos. She will sit behind you.” He pauses and adds, “She is your responsibility. If she runs, I will kill her in front of you. Do not overestimate her indispensability.”
The color draining from Simon’s face is all the answer Fiero seems to require.
Fawn glides closer, close enough you can feel the coolness of her body with every flap of her wings. Simon’s mid-air transfer – a maneuver you had practiced together countless times in your youth – is perfect. It is Ratha who nearly makes him fall; he twists as Simon lands on his back, and only your deeply-ingrained habit of protecting him has you reaching out to steady him before he plunges to his death.
Still trying to save him. I must be an idiot, you think. It hurts too much to admit why you had so instinctively protected him, so you slide back in the saddle and let him settle into the pilot’s seat without responding to his quiet thanks. He dismisses Fawn with a soft word as Fiero urges his (or is it Simon’s?) Rathalos back toward the abandoned village, and a deep unease fills you as you realize that you and Simon are more or less alone.
You’d attempted to propose to him just a few nights ago. He’d claimed you as a bride just a few moments ago. The whole thing is so absurd that you have to wrestle down a bitter laugh, but a strangled noise escapes you all the same.
“You ended up becoming my husband after all.”
Simon flinches. “Princess…” He sounds so weary.
“After you went to all that trouble to let me down easy, too. You could have just told me then, you know? Sorry princess, I can’t marry you because I’m a spy.”
His hands tighten around the saddle’s grips. “Hate me all you want. I was trying to spare you from this.”
You fall silent. The saddest part is, you can’t even hate him. You want to, you’re willing yourself to, but he is so miserable that you feel only the old stirrings of protectiveness instead.
“Why did you do it?” you ask. He squirms in the saddle, perhaps unnerved by your sudden shift in tone. He darts a glance at you over his shoulder, but the wind is playing havoc with his hair, and you can’t get a read on his expression.
“I couldn’t think of any other way to stop Clarissa from forcing you to marry Fiero.”
Your heart thumps a little harder. He’s still trying to save me too, you think, but just as quickly you push that thought away. Simon is your enemy; you can’t afford to give him the benefit of the doubt now. Your entire friendship had been nothing more than an intelligence-gathering mission for him, and whatever softness lingers in your heart, you have to remember that betrayal.
Even if he seems to still care for me. Especially if he seems to still care for me. You grit your teeth. I cannot trust him again.
You’re too soft-hearted, too naïve. It’s always been your weakness, and now is the worst time to fall prey to your habits of empathy and sympathy. But even as you tell yourself that, you can’t help but be overwhelmed by memories of Simon shielding you from any possible harm. He’d taken lectures in your stead when you’d snuck out of the castle, caught you when you’d fallen off of Ratha or out of trees, thrown himself between you and wild monsters. In the field, he’d never let you take a hit if he could take the impact instead, and when he hadn’t been able to save you from harm, he’d been the one to patch you back up. Even now, with Fiero…they were presumably allies, and yet you could tell that Simon did not want you to be entirely at his mercy.
“Was it all fake? Everything we went through together?” you ask, quietly enough that even you aren’t sure you meant for him to hear you. Whatever your intentions, you feel his body stiffen.
“It had to be,” he replies, cold and flat. Too defensive. He always gets too defensive when he’s lying. Or at least…you’d thought so, once. Still, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you lean forward and whisper, “That’s a lie.”
His short, unsteady exhale feels like confirmation.
Fiero leads you to Galyad. Ratha is flagging by the time you arrive, unused to carrying two full-grown adults on his back for the majority of the day, and you know he’s picking up on your anxiety as well.
“Go,” you whisper to him as soon as you and Simon slide out of the saddle. “Find somewhere to rest and stay hidden. I’ll be okay.”
He nudges you, reluctant, and you press your face to his muzzle.
“I promise. Please go,” you tell him, and with one last unhappy rumble, he takes off.
If Fiero is worried about his departure, he says nothing. But why should he worry? Ratha will never leave you, so as long as you’re in his power, so is your monstie. The thought makes you sick, but you do your best to keep your emotions off your face.
He marches you down an alley, through a doorway and then down several staircases, deep beneath the Ministry of Eggs. At last, he opens the door to a small room and gestures for you to enter. It had probably been meant for storage and it isn’t much better than a cell, but at least you are not in a dungeon. That is something you can work with.
As though reading your thoughts, Fiero points out the small desk and narrow pallet. “You have the queen to thank for this mercy. You treated Eleanor well, so she will treat you well in return.”
You grit your teeth against arguing the merits of Clarissa’s kindness. If you’re thrown into a real dungeon, escaping will become much more difficult.
“I shall come for you at the queen’s leisure,” he says, but when Simon attempts to follow him out, he blocks the door.
“Of course, we could not separate the blissful newlyweds. You shall wait here with your bride,” he says, and the lock snicks home behind him.
You move to the furthest corner of the room. Simon doesn’t follow you. He glances around instead, and then leans against the wall near the door. The way he runs a hand through his hair in frustration is so familiar that you force yourself to look at the grey flagstones beneath you, lest your heart soften further.
The silence lingers for a long time.
Eventually, Simon clears his throat. He isn’t looking at you, and you’re trying not to look at him.
“You need to rest,” he says.
Your exhaustion goes down to your bones, but you’re not interested in the pallet. How can you possibly sleep? Too much has happened and Simon being in the room isn’t doing you any favors either.
“I’m fine,” you say, and for a long time that is the last of the discussion. He settles onto the floor and tilts his head back against the wall, eyes closed. You can tell he isn’t asleep, but he seems unwilling to push his presence onto you.
You wish you weren’t always looking at him. Even more, you wish you could make sense of him.
He isn’t Vermeilian, so it’s not like he’s protecting his homeland or countrymen. He’s always seemed to genuinely enjoy his time in Azuria, and there had never been a hint that his friendships with the other Rangers had been part of a sham. And with you, he’s always been –
You curl your arms around your knees and squeeze as a fresh wave of pain crests over you.
Is it money? Perhaps, yet he’d been paid well as a Ranger. He’d been making a real home amongst you.
So why become a spy?
The question repeats itself in your mind over and over again, chasing away any hope of rest. Finally, you can’t stand it any longer: you must get some answers while you’ve got a chance.
“Where were you taking us, back in Death’s Maw?” you ask, staring hard at the wall opposite so you won’t give in and look at him instead.
Simon shifts and lets out a hard breath.
“I was taking you home,” he says, and the hesitation in his words tells you he’s wrestling with painful memories.
“Home?”
“A few people escaped my village and took shelter out there. We’re the descendants of the Riders who settled here before the Rift War, though we’ve had to hide that fact for generations. It isn’t ideal, but for the most part no one cared to dig up the past until the encroachment started to spread.”
You try to process this, but there are still so many details you’re not sure of. “And my mother? You said she found you there.”
“It was just after we were attacked, and the village was destroyed.” Simon looks at you, and you can’t help but turn your head to meet his gaze. “She saved those of us who survived. I was…I had no family. My arm had just been crystalized. She realized that I was alone and took me in when she saw how quickly I bonded with the other Skyscale. She was…incredible.”
Was. Your heart feels as though it will shatter, but you have to know for sure.
“She’s dead, isn’t she?” You sound defeated, even to your own ears. He breaks your gaze with a grimace.
“Yes,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. She died at the Sacrosanctum a few months after we left my village.”
For a few years after she’d disappeared, you had still harbored hope that somewhere out there, your mother was still alive. In fact, in those early days after finding him, you’d often confided these secret hopes to Simon whenever you’d sneak into his room at night. He’d been your confidant from almost the first moment you’d seen him, and he’d always listened so attentively when you’d spoken of Amara. He’d never once tried to crush your dream of reuniting with her.
But he’s known all along.
It’s been apparent for years that she must be dead; you’d done your best to accept it as you’d grown older. And yet Simon’s confirmation – and the fact that he’d hidden this information from you for so long – still hits you like a hammer to the chest. You suck in a breath like you’re drowning, but all your attempts to fight back your tears fail. They burst free alongside a reluctant sob, and you bury your face in your arms so you don’t have to see Simon’s reaction.
He makes a soft noise, one of shared heartache, but he intrudes no further on your grief. When you finally lift your head again, you can see that he’d stood up and started to come toward you almost instinctively, the way he would have done just yesterday, but he’d managed to fight the urge. Good. His comfort is the last thing you want right now.
“Then what?” you croak, desperate to think of something else.
He stares at you. “You mean, after?”
His throat works and he looks down at his left arm. You can see him retreating into memory, though his frown warns you they are not happy recollections.
“Amara ordered her Rathalos to get me out. I – I didn’t want to leave her. She was just laying there on the ground, surrounded by crystal, and I – I begged but…”
He chokes, momentarily overcome, but he manages to go on in a roughened voice. “He took me south, through Azuria to Vermeil, almost without stopping. I wanted to find…”
His eyes catch yours. He doesn’t finish the sentence.
“I had gone with Amara in hopes of finding a cure for the people of my village. I didn’t want to go back empty-handed. It turns out landing in Vermeil with a Rathalos in tow garnered me some attention: Clarissa summoned me herself and asked how I was with him and where Amara was.
“Then she offered me help beyond my wildest dreams. Every resource at her disposal would be put toward helping me research a cure, but in return, I – ”
He studies the ceiling next, tracing the undulating pattern of a water stain with eyes swimming in tears.
“She said we had to protect ourselves from Aenshin as we worked. The encroachment was already destroying villages. The castle was flooded with refugees. She told me what I knew about battle-binding would buy us time and keep Aenshin away while we conducted our research.”
“So how did I – how did Azuria come into it?” you ask.
“I wanted to meet you.” Simon turns away, fully facing the wall. “I’d heard stories of you for months while I traveled with Amara. And Vermeil knew that there was some sort of research taking place at the king’s order. Clarissa told me I could go see for myself, as long as I sent her regular reports. I wasn’t to mention anything about my past, or Amara. I was only allowed to say I was lost.
“At first I didn’t really understand that I was spying, but it wasn’t long before they started asking for very specific information. About the Rangers, primarily, but also…”
“About me.” You don’t know if you’ll ever feel warm again.
“Yes.” He drops his forehead to the wall in front of him. “But by then, I was in too deep. I was afraid to tell you the truth. I thought you’d hate me if I did. And Fiero convinced me that the king’s punishment would be swift. But I also realized I…”
“You liked living in Azuria.”
“I was so proud when Lucas and Gaul took me on as an apprentice. Kora looked after me, Ogden took me out in the field as often as I wanted to go. It felt like I had found my true calling. And you – ”
There is a note of longing in his voice that shakes you, even though you have determined not to soften toward him no matter what he says. You squeeze your hands into fists and try not to let a similar longing reemerge in yourself.
“I liked you right away, you know. Amara said that I would, and I did. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever known. From the moment we met, I wanted to know you better. Amara was amazing: brave, smart, driven…but you’re all of that and more, and I started to care for you more than I should. All that time we spent together, I tried to harden my heart. But I just…couldn’t. By the time I was sixteen, I knew I never wanted to leave your side. But Clarissa knew that too. As much as I wanted to come clean, to really become Simon, she made sure I knew it was impossible. When I allowed them to bind my Rathalos…I told myself it was to stop Aenshin, but it sealed my fate. And as much as I wish things were different, Aenshin does need to be destroyed.”
He turns to you as you stand and once you’re on your feet he crosses toward you again, but he stops out of reach. “The elder dragon is the source of it all, Princess. And it won’t stop unless we make it stop.”
It hits you then. “Your village, and my mother…that was Aenshin?”
His mouth sets into a hard line. He nods.
“And the encroachment…that is Aenshin’s fault as well?”
Another nod. He hesitates, then says: “During the Rift War, the Skyscales were able to stop it. They couldn’t take it down completely, but we can. This time, we’ve got enough power.”
Whatever you had expected out of this conversation, this is not it. You can hardly process the sudden change from tearful confession to this petition for vengeance.
“Simon – ”
He steps even closer. “You haven’t seen what a Skyscale can do with the enhancements Vermeil has made. We can do this, Princess – you and me. We can stop Aenshin from destroying anything else, from harming anyone else, ever again. And when we do, we’re free. I can leave Vermeil behind for good, and you can go back to Azuria and show them what a ruler should be.”
You’re staring at him in horror. “You want to battle-bind Ratha?”
“Just long enough to – ”
“No.” You will not ever allow that.
“It wouldn’t be permanent, I swear. It would just be long enough to give him the power he needs to fell Aenshin.”
“You can’t force him into chains the way you forced me into a fake marriage!”
“I told you: I was trying to save you!”
“Why?” you cry, losing the last bit of composure you’d been clinging to this entire time. “I don’t understand, why are you still trying to save me?”
The sudden silence is ringing in your ears and both you and Simon are breathless and wide-eyed. His pulse is hammering at the base of his neck, and it matches the wild staccato of your own. You hadn’t noticed him getting closer, and somehow you can’t find the strength to move away.
“I…didn’t want to tell you like this.” But as soon as he says those words, he shakes his head and corrects himself. “I was never going to tell you at all.” His voice is hoarse now, almost tender.
You know you shouldn’t ask. You can’t help yourself. “Tell me what?”
He lifts his hand toward your face…and stops just shy of your skin. You are absurdly reminded of the kiss he’d brushed over your forehead, though the circumstances couldn’t be more different.
His voice drops even lower. He won’t meet your gaze.
“It’s too late now,” he murmurs, and for some reason you feel lost and hollow all over again. He’s an enemy, a spy, but your heart can’t seem to accept it.
“Simon – ”
But your next words, unknown even to you, are lost as the lock turns and the door is pushed open. You both twist to face it as it swings wide, and Simon manages to place his body between you and the entrance.
You’re expecting Fiero. It is the leader of the Scriveners instead.
Right away, Ena strikes you as a woman well able to handle herself in a crisis. She moves swiftly but with deliberation as she passes both you and Simon hooded cloaks and bundles of food.
“Forgive me for not taking the time for proper introductions,” she says as you take her gifts. “My name is Ena, and under different circumstances, I’m sure we would have much to discuss. As it is, we don’t have much time. Queen Clarissa has asked for peace talks to be held in Azuria, but from what I understand, they are not meant to succeed. Instead, Vermeil has massed forces just outside the Sacrosanctum in preparation for an assault on Aenshin.”
You slip the cloak on and tug up the hood. “They’re moving fast.”
“Yes, and their aims go beyond reclaiming the ancient seat. They also seek one of the elder dragon’s eggs in hopes of harnessing its strength for themselves.”
“They want to battle-bind an elder dragon?” Shock rolls through you. “To what purpose?”
“To whatever purpose they see fit.” Simon’s face has gone cold. “What could stop them at that point?”
You nod, searching for your resolve. Tonight has been a night of unpleasant and painful discoveries, but you don’t have time to dwell on it all. One day soon you will have to deal with the fallout of everything you’ve learned, but now is the time to act, not reflect.
“We have to get there first,” you say, glad that you sound so confident.
“I agree.” Simon won’t look at you. “Any egg we find must be destroyed before they can claim it.”
Ena gasps a little, and your mouth drops open. You never would have expected Simon to be so ruthlessly pragmatic.
“Excuse us a moment, please,” you say to Ena. She hesitates, then nods.
“Please hurry. I don’t have much time to get you out,” she replies, and slips back out of the door.
As soon as she’s out of earshot, Simon turns to you and plants his feet, ready for the coming argument. “Aenshin is a force of immeasurable power. Do you want to stop one crazed elder dragon, just to unleash another upon the world? One just as capable of spreading death in its wake?”
“You don’t mean that.” You’re trembling a little with horror and frustration. “You would never condemn a new life like that.”
His jaw clenches. “It killed your mother. It destroyed my people.”
“Because of what we did to it, and to the monsters it protected! It was our actions that changed Aenshin, not its own nature. And the baby in that egg is entirely innocent of any such corruption.”
“You haven’t seen it firsthand. It’s gone mad. We can’t chance it. If a second elder dragon were to be corrupted like the first…”
“This isn’t you!” You catch hold of his jacket and give him one sharp shake. “You said being a Ranger felt like your calling because you want to help save lives, Simon. You want to restore balance, you want nature and monsters to thrive just like we all do. Even if we have to kill Aenshin, you can’t tell me you’re fine with ending the life of an innocent monster. I know you – I know you couldn’t bear it!”
Simon stares at you, looking hard and deep into your eyes. Then, slowly and with unsteady fingers, he lifts his hands to cover yours where they still grip his coat.
“Princess – ”
“Don’t tell me it’s too late. You’re not some lost cause. You can choose, Simon.”
His hands tighten over yours. “You want to save the egg.”
You nod. “I want us to restore its habitat. I want it to thrive under our care, not our rule. If we can do that, it might just save us all.”
He is quiet for a while, long enough that you start to fear you’ve lost him forever. Then he releases you, and one of his hands comes up until his fingers, still shaking, brush your cheek. His touch is so delicate that you barely feel it, but it sends tingles racing through your entire body.
“I thought I’d do anything to end Aenshin and cure crystallisis. I gave up everything I had in that pursuit, and no sacrifice has ever seemed like too much, but…” He can barely speak, and you are caught in the maelstrom of emotion in his eyes. “But what I really want to protect – what I really can’t give up – is you. If this is what you really want, then I’ll do whatever I can to help you save that egg.”
You close your eyes, too overwhelmed to hold his gaze. There’s still so much you both have to work through, but for now his acquiescence is enough.
“Let’s go,” you say, pulling gently away. “We’ve got to move fast.”
He drops his hand and gives you a resolute nod before you both go in search of Ena and your escape.
----
Part Five
