A Final Fantasy XIV fic.
WoL/Haurchefant, and other relationships.
Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings.
Updates Fridays, biweekly.
A heartbroken Warrior of Light struggles to come to terms with loss, and the world she has been left to save.
Chapter 1
The Warrior of Light came to with a jolt upon a blue couch in the front sitting room of Fortemps Manor, the shape of Alphinaud Leveilleur hovering anxiously over her, and she drew a sharp and terrible breath, knowing at once that her efforts had been in vain.
Alphinaud pressed into her hand her silver spectacles, which he had kept safe while she lay unconscious, and said quietly, "Pray, never do that again."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A Final Fantasy XIV fic.
WoL/Haurchefant, and other relationships.
Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings.
Updates Fridays, biweekly.
A heartbroken Warrior of Light struggles to come to terms with loss, and the world she has been left to save.
Chapter 5: No End to Our Troubles
Minfilia was not with Thancred.
With the aid of Krile and Master Matoya, they had followed Thancred's trail to the Dravanian forelands. Tales of a man matching their roguish friend's description had made it plain he had passed near Tailfeather, and had dealings with the local Vath tribe as well. There, they had had news not only of Thancred, but of Ravana.
Such tidings had filled Ariane with no small amount of alarm. Not a fortnight had passed since she and a party of adventurers had laid low the Lord of the Hive for the second time, at Urianger's behest. Further summonings were ever a concern, typically stronger each time as the tribes' distress drove them to even more fervent prayers. But summonings took time, at least—to gather crystals, to prepare the rituals. That the Gnath might have succeeded again so quickly…
A Final Fantasy XIV fic.
WoL/Haurchefant, and other relationships.
Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings.
Updates Fridays, biweekly.
A heartbroken Warrior of Light struggles to come to terms with loss, and the world she has been left to save.
Chapter 3: Strong Art Thou, Mortal
Y'shtola came back to herself in short order, frankly faster than any of them had dared hope. She permitted herself minimal rest before taking the lead in an expedition to Sharlayan, to seek out her former master, in hopes of finding a solution to the their present conundrum.
Master Matoya was a stooped and wizened woman in a wide-brimmed hat, who dwelt in a cave, and had little patience for pleasantries. As Ariane was also feeling little patience for pleasantries at the moment, she was not offended by this. Master Matoya sent them to the Great Gubal Library to unearth some lost and forbidden tome, the knowledge wherein would to permit them to construct an aetherial ram.
Ever did Ariane do as she was asked, cutting a path through the abandoned library's more hostile denizens and healing her comrades' wounds as needed.
“You saw them too,” Alphinaud said, tentatively, as they were hustled out of the infirmary on the orders of Hospitalier Captain Abel, who insisted that Estinien have several more days of rest. “Didn’t you? At Estinien’s side, on the Steps of Faith. Ysayle, and…”
“Haurchefant,” Ariane said quietly. It was not so painful to speak his name; no more painful than to wake every day in a world without him in it. “Yes.”
She could see the relief on Alphinaud’s face, that he had not imagined it. “It is said that the souls of the dead pass through the aetherial sea. That some linger there, their aether undispersed, for a time. Do you think…?”
“…that it was truly them?” Ariane had pondered the same, ever since that moment. She herself had been drawn to the aetherial sea, time and again, brought before the Mothercrystal. Many would consider that an impossible tale. What grounds had she to doubt, at least, the possibility? “To be honest… I don’t know.” She paused by the aetheryte outside the Congregation; evening had passed into night, and a gentle snow was falling, leaving dots of moisture on her glasses. “The things I’ve seen, since joining the Scions, since the Echo… who am I to say? You and I both know the sort of things that hopes can conjure… and with the Eyes spilling aether everywhere… I don’t know.”
Alphinaud looked down at the frosty cobbles. “I had thought the same.”
“And yet…” Ariane said, taking off her spectacles to wipe them on her collar, only leaving them smeared and wet. Defeated, she put them back on. “I confess, a part of me should very much like to believe it was them. There would be some comfort in that, wouldn’t there?”
“There would,” Alphinaud agreed. “To believe that those we’ve lost yet watch over us…” He let out a long, white breath in the chill air. “Urianger speaks sometimes of Grandfather doing so. Not what we found down in the Coils, not some summoned likeness… but him, Grandfather himself, watching over us from the aetherial sea, guiding our footsteps… I think he would like very much to believe it. Mayhap I would as well. Alisaie and I came to Eorzea to understand… to find out why he left us. Mayhap I would like to think he never truly left. And yet…”
“And yet,” Ariane said quietly, “he is still gone.”
Alphinaud looked up at her. His blue eyes shone in the light of the aetheryte, and at once he looked terribly young. “How are you… truly?”
Ariane drew a deep breath. “It’s… been hard. So hard.” In spite of herself, her eyes welled and stung in the cold. “Still is, if we’re being honest.” She blinked hard behind her already blurred spectacles. “But I’m still here, Alphinaud. I’m not going anywhere. I can say that much.”
She could see the relief on his face as he managed a smile. “Thank you. For everything, Ariane. For being a true and steadfast friend. I cannot thank you enough.”
She swallowed, and even with tears in her eyes it was not so hard to smile. “You too, Alphinaud. You too.”
A Final Fantasy XIV fic.
Urianger/Moenbryda, and other relationships.
Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings.
Updates Fridays, biweekly.
Heartbroken after the loss of his dearest companion, Urianger labors to save two worlds in which he has never felt more alone.
Chapter 1
Night had fallen over Vesper Bay, and with it relief from the desert sun, as a lone hooded Archon made the long trek through the Footfalls from the aetheryte at Horizon.
His visage was not unknown to the people of Western Thanalan, the merchants and mages and chocobokeeps who plied their trades here. True, they more often beheld his companions upon the road than he. Nevertheless, the sight of an Elezen mage, his robes typical of the realm’s fashions if a bit ostentatious in their trimmings, his Archon mark half-hid beneath the hood, would draw little enough attention. If he moved with singular haste, paying little mind to his fellow travelers, none would take particular notice.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A Final Fantasy XIV fic.
Urianger/Moenbryda, and other relationships.
Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings.
Updates Fridays, biweekly. 🌙COMPLETE🌙
Heartbroken after the loss of his dearest companion, Urianger labors to save two worlds in which he has never felt more alone.
Chapter 15: Unto Shadow
Mistress Alisaie awoke with the dawn, and with a nod to Urianger, arose and went to join the others by the fire. Urianger supposed he ought to eat something, though he found himself with little appetite.
He had some gil on his person for travel, and ere departing, he took Papalymo aside and gave over a large portion of it. “For the Resistance, as thanks for their most generous hospitality. I trust thou shalt see it into the appropriate hands.”
Papalymo took the purse with an understanding nod. “They shall be most appreciative, I’m sure.”
“’Tis only right,” said Urianger.
Papalymo had yet said naught of what had occurred at Zan'rak. Mayhap, he had not heard the full story even now. Either way, he had ever been a man of discretion. The gil would find its way to the right parties, and Mistress Tataru would certainly understand the expenditure.
To the Rising Stones he would go, and face his friends, and should they choose to cast him out, he would accept their judgment.
A Final Fantasy XIV fic.
WoL/Haurchefant, and other relationships.
Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings.
Updates Fridays, biweekly. 🌟COMPLETE🌟
A heartbroken Warrior of Light struggles to come to terms with loss, and the world she has been left to save.
Chapter 15: To the Light
In the days to come, Ariane would dream of a world swallowed by Light.
They were muddled dreams, hazy and imprecise, and upon waking she could recall few details. Impressions constructed, perhaps, from the Light that had overwhelmed all in the Porta Decumana, from the Light that had burst forth from six crystals brought together, from the ache behind her eyes when the Echo split her mind, and from the harsh glimmer of the sun upon fresh snow.
She woke to the gentler light of morning slanting through windows and touching marble floors, filtered through a curtain of falling snow, and she thought of five adventurers so much like herself. Of the pretense falling away from the Hyuran warrior's face, giving way to desperation and deep grief.
Ariane though she should have liked to speak more with him. To know who he really was, who his companions were, beneath the mantles they had donned as Warriors of Darkness. She suspected that what she had thought upon first meeting remained true: that they were, perhaps, very much alike.
She would never know. He had been dead before she ever met him.
A Final Fantasy XIV fic.
Urianger/Moenbryda, and other relationships.
Please see AO3 for full list of tags and warnings.
Updates Fridays, biweekly.
Heartbroken after the loss of his dearest companion, Urianger labors to save two worlds in which he has never felt more alone.
Chapter 14: That the Brightest Light Might Shine
Arbert and his friends had made quick work of the Amalj'aa sentries. This much was evident to Urianger even as he kept his distance. The Scions ought to have encountered far greater resistance on their approach, and he was certain they knew it. The party slowed their pace as they approached, looking about with suspicion. Thancred, in particular, appeared on edge, looking every which way as though expecting an ambush at any moment.
So the Scions came upon the Warriors of Darkness at the rim of the Bowl of Embers, just as Arbert struck down the Amalj'aa war chief with a terrible blow from his axe.
Urianger was too far to make out their words, yet he could hear Arbert's laugh, loud and taunting.
With the two parties thus engaged, Urianger dared creep a bit closer. 'Twas vital he not be seen until his chosen moment, yet he must needs stand ready to intervene when that moment came. A delay of even a moment could undo the thing entire.
