An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Dion Lesage/Joshua Rosfield
Characters: Dion Lesage, Joshua Rosfield, Clive Rosfield
Additional Tags: Phoenixflare, Phoenix Flare Weekly, Prompt - Temple, Betrayal, Angst with a Happy Ending, Revenge
Summary:
Dion is drawn to the ruins of an old temple, though he finds a lot more than simply broken stone there
“Aye, I know!” exclaimed Mid. “You’ve only said it a hundred times already!”
Joshua handed her a piece of parchment. Scrawled on the aging page were notes for an old Sanbreqois potion. “Are you certain you can recreate it? It must be exact.”
Mid looked up from the paper and gave him a look that could make a Coeurl cower. “I’ve made my share of potions, birdie boy. Of course I can recreate it.” Her eyes returned to the page. “Doesn’t appear too difficult. What’s it for anyway?”
Joshua hesitated. “It’s for his highness. Prince Dion.” Dion was still laying in The Hideaway’s makeshift infirmary. He had sustained terrible wounds during the battle over Twinside and had yet to wake. “Master Harpocrates had it in his records.”
“Make the poor Prince spring back to life, will it?” She thought for a moment and her face suddenly lost its playfulness. “If it were me that did what he did, I wouldn’t want to wake up.”
“Dion was not himself, Mid. It was Ultima’s influence that drove him mad that day.” Joshua motioned to the recipe. “The potion will not wake him but, when he does, it’s supposed to… ease some of the pain. Both on his body and, hopefully, his mind.”
Mid nodded. “I’ll do me best, then! You can count on me, Joshua.”
“Thank you, Mid,” he said with a smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Joshua made his way back toward the infirmary. The sun was beginning to set as Tarja was sitting at her desk. Three books were open in front of her, each with various illustrations of medicinal plants. She lit a candle as Joshua approached.
“Any changes?” he asked as he crossed the small space. Several beds dotted each wall. All were empty.
“You mean since you asked an hour ago?” She glanced over to the doorway leading to Dion’s room. “None,” she said with a sigh. “The Prince will awaken when he’s ready, Joshua. Give him time.”
Joshua looked down, a feeling of embarrassment rising in him. “I know. Apologies, Lady Tarja. I suppose I am just eager to see him well.”
“We all are,” she said, with a warmth that surprised him.
“Would it be alright if I sat with him?” he asked.
Tarja smiled. “Of course, Joshua. As always.”
Dion looked exactly as Joshua had left him. The toll their battle had taken on the Prince was evident everywhere but his face. Much of his torso was covered in bandages yet, in his sleep, Dion looked almost peaceful.
What do you dream of, Your Highness? Is it a nightmare?
Joshua took a seat in the chair beside Dion’s bed. He had become quite comfortable with it in the days since his own recovery. He wanted to be there when Dion woke up. Joshua was not sure why, but he felt a connection to Dion. One that has lasted since their first meeting so many years ago at Rosalith Castle for the Remembrance Ceremony.
Despite being in hiding for much of his life, tales of Bahamut and his unshakable Dominant had reached Joshua many times. A fierce fighter with unmatched bravery and determination with a compassionate heart filled with love for his people. The Prince of Sanbreque seemed like a fairy tale. What a relief it was to discover all of it was true.
It was difficult for Joshua to see Dion this way, to feel so powerless.
Perhaps a second attempt? Joshua thought. He stood and walked over the edge of Dion’s bed and knelt beside the prince.He raised his hand and a spark of flame ignited at the center of his palm. The flame flickered and grew until it began to morph, enveloping Joshua's entire hand.
Please work.
Joshua rested his palm upon Dion’s chest. His hand rose and fell with every breath the Prince took. He felt the beat of his heart, as strong and resilient as the Eikon he embodied. Joshua watched as the flames slowly spread across his torso only to fade as the Phoenix’s magick disappeared within.
A few moments passed. Nothing changed.
Joshua stood and sighed. “Perhaps Mid has finished your potion, your Highness. I shall be but a moment.”
“There he is!” Mid was waving a bottle in her hand as Joshua approached. “Like I said, it’s perfect! You’re welcome.”
“Be gentle!!” Joshua said as he carefully took the bottle from her. “Are you sure?”
Mid raised her fist and shoved it into his shoulder. The pain was immediate. “Point taken. Thank you, Mid.”
Mid shrugged. “It’s nothing, Birdie. Hope you get a chance to give it to the poor bastard.”
Joshua had made it half way back to the infirmary when he heard Tarja yelling. “Joshua! Joshua!” She came running out of the door and, upon seeing Joshua, said “It’s Prince Dion! He’s awake! Hurry!”
The Prince, indeed, was awake. While still in bed, he was sitting up and when Joshua entered the room, a small smile appeared. “Phoenix,” he said weakly.
Joshua ran to his side, setting the potion on the table next to them. “Your Highness! How do you feel?” Joshua felt an overwhelming sense of excitement and joy.
Dion closed his eyes briefly, an expression of pain on his face. “Terrible.”
Joshua reached for the potion. “Perhaps this will help!” he said, uncorking the bottle.
“What is it?” Dion asked.
“It’s a Sanbreqois healing potion. I searched Master Harpocrates’s records for the recipe. It took hours to locate but I thought it could help you.”
Dion hesitated as he looked at the bottle. His eyes returned to Joshua as he said, “If you wish.” He took the bottle and drank until it was empty.
“Well?” Joshua asked, impatiently. “How is it?”
Dion smiled again. “You did well, Phoenix. I am transported to my youth, once more.” he said with a laugh. “Master Harpocrates administered these potions to me almost every week.”
Joshua rested his hand on Dion’s arm. “I’m glad that you are alright, Your Highness.”
Dion laid his own hand atop Joshua’s. “It seems that I might spend the rest of my life ever in your debt, Phoenix,” he said softly. “A prospect I am not entirely unsatisfied with, I think.”
“You still owe me a flight, remember?” Joshua replied playfully. “Preferably one where you’re not trying to kill me.”
For the first time in weeks, laughter was heard at The Hideaway.
