Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day 1 - Cross (T) - Erichthonios/Themis
Tags/Warnings: Pandæmonium Questline Spoilers, Fluff
Erichthonios accidentally grabs Themis's hand while showing him around Pandæmonium. Themis doesn't mind.

Day 2 - Bolt (T) - Urianger/Thancred
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Temporary character harm, Accidental confessions
In the magical land of Il Mheg, you should always expect the unexpected.

Day 3 - Temper (T) - Warrior of Light & Original Character
Tags/Warnings: Female Viera Warrior of Light, Post-Endwalker
C’nhea Tia is one of the first people to ever be cured of tempering, much to the delight of Sharlayan scholars.

Day 4 - Free Day (T) - Granson & Cerigg
Tags/Warnings: Post-Shadowbringers, Minor angst
Granson still marveled at the stars.

Day 5 - Cutting Corners (T) - Lahabrea/Hesperos
Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic fluff, Self-doubt
Lahabrea made a mistake. Hesperos is there to reassure him.

Day 6 - Onerous (T) - Rielle & Sidurgu
Tags/Warnings: Dark Knight questline spoilers, Blood/Injury, Au Ra on moogle violence
Rielle really wishes that Sidurgu would put aside his hate for the moogles long enough for his wounds to heal.

Day 7 - Pawn (M) - Fandaniel & Warrior of Light
Tags/Warnings: Pre-Canon, Female Viera Warrior of Light, Blood, Violence, Character death
Constance, freshly departed from the city of Rabanastre, meets a mysterious man in the desert.

Day 8 - Tepid (T) - Hades/Hythlodaeus
Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff
Hythlodaeus has come home with takeout, but Hades is asleep.
He can fix that.

Day 9 - Yawn (T) - Hades/Hythlodaeus
Tags/Warnings: Nightmares, fluff
Hythlodaeus is truly beginning to loathe shark concepts.

Day 10 - Channel (T) - Thancred/Warrior of Light
Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Miqo’te Warrior of Light, Supernatural (the tv show)… spoilers?
Camus finally witnesses the episode of Supernatural that sent his social media into full meme mode for weeks.

Day 11 - Free Day (T) - Lahabrea/Hesperos
Tags/Warnings: Domestic fluff
Lahabrea is no stranger to overworking himself. He refuses to let Hesperos endure that same struggle.

Day 12 - Miss the Boat (T) - Tansui & Rasho & Warrior of Light
Tags/Warnings: Viera Warrior of Light, Pre-canon, Fluff
Constance has decided to leave the Ruby Sea in the wake of the Garlean invasion of Othard. Tansui and Rasho refuse to let her go alone.

Day 13 - Confluence (G) - Warrior of Light & Moenbryda’s family
Tags/warnings: Elezen Warrior of Light, Fluff, Kid fic, Endwalker spoilers
Landrenel was barely old enough to pronounce his own name the first time he wandered into the Confluence.

Day 14 - Attrition (T) - Hades/Hythlodaeus
Tags/warnings: Fluff, Touch-starved character
Hythlodaeus was not one to give up easily. Especially when it came to Hades.

Day 15 - Row (T) - Hades/Hythlodaeus
Tags/warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Cosplaying
Hades and Hythlodaeus spend time together at a convention.

Day 16 - Deiform (T) - Ryne & Warrior of Light
Tags/warnings: Eden raids, Miqo’te Warrior of Light, Panic
Summoning a primal goes against every instinct Camus has.

Day 17 - Novel (T) - Lahabrea/Hesperos
Tags/warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff
Lahabrea enjoys the time he spends with Hesperos. Especially when the man falls asleep in his lap.

Day 18 - Free Day (T) - Warrior of Light & Warrior of Light
Tags/warnings: Post-Heavensward, Multiple Warriors of Light, Viera Warrior(s) of Light, Fluff
By the light of his campfire, Lucky makes a new friend.

Day 19 - Turn a Blind Eye (T) - Lahabrea & Emet-Selch & Igeyorhm
Tags/warnings: Pandæmonium questline spoilers, Angst
Emet-Selch knows there is something wrong with Lahabrea. Igeyorhm shares his suspicions.

Day 20 - Anon (T) - Aymeric/Estinien
Tags/warnings: Fluff, Cuddling
Aymeric had waited a long time for Estinien’s return. If only he were able to stay awake to see it…

Day 21 - Solution (G) - Severian
Tags/warnings: Alchemy, singing
Severian likes to hum as he works.

Chapter Text

“Ah, Erichthonios?” Themis called out. Erichthonios stood from where he had been examining a fallen cage, turning to face his newfound friend.

“Yes?” he replied, dusting his hand off on his robe. He grimaced as the rust colored the dark fabric, trying once more to rub the stain off before dropping it entirely as Themis approached.

“Apologies for disturbing you. I was wondering if you knew where I could find more information on the concepts stored here? In particular, I was hoping to learn more about the Vrykolakas, but truly, anything will do.”

“Do you think it would help?” he asked, the emotion in his voice surprising even himself. His heart was still raw from the loss of his mentor, but if research on the beast that he was fused with could save the other warders from suffering the same fate…

“I’m not sure yet, but I would like to try.” Themis gave a small, reassuring smile, and Erichthonios suddenly felt at ease. Even if nothing came of it, even if they never found what had turned Hesperos into that monster, Themis was willing to try. That was enough for him.

“Come on then, I’ll show you where the records are,” he said, reaching down and grabbing Themis’s hand in his own. Almost as soon as he did, he felt a jolt of panic run through him, though he began leading the man to the records room regardless. He hadn’t thought to ask if it would be okay, but at this point he felt too awkward to let go.

“Are you quite alright?” Themis asked, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.

“Ah, I’m fine!” he lied, waving him off with his free hand. Because his other hand was still holding onto Themis’s.

Erichthonios had made a lot of mistakes in his life. This may be the most distressing.

He guided Themis through the halls of Pandæmonium as if they were walking down a straight hallway, navigating the twists and turns with the poise of a man who had spent untold years learning them. Themis kept up with his pace, not once giving any indication that he wanted to let go of Erichthonios’s hand. A revelation the man in question would have to save for later, if he wanted to even pretend to keep his composure.

Finally, they arrived at the records room, the tall door looking much like any of the others save for a protective sigil set against the surface. He finally released Themis’s hand, giving a nod to the door before them.

“Here we are,” he said, voice wavering just slightly. Themis tilted his head, his bangs falling into his eyes as he looked at the warder with concern.

“Erichthonios, is something wrong? You’ve been acting strangely since I asked you to bring me here. If I did anything to cause you distress…” Erichthonios shook his head, taking just a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking.

“I… my apologies, it’s just… I didn’t even ask if it would be okay to…” he trailed off, gesturing weakly at Themis’s hand. Themis laughed, a pure sound ringing out in the depths of Pandæmonium.

“Is that all? Please, don’t worry. I’ll have you know I quite enjoyed it.” He paused for a moment, as if considering his next action, finally relaxing his posture and holding his hand back out to Erichthonios. “In fact…” he trailed off as Erichthonios took the proffered hand back in his own. Themis stepped closer, giving time for Erichthonios to back away, to tell him to stop. But he didn’t, so Themis stood on the tips of his toes and pressed a soft kiss to Erichthonios’s cheek.

“Themis…” he said, voice a near whisper as he looked down at the smiling man in front of him.

“Was that alright?” he asked, and Erichthonios realized that he had been simply staring at the man for longer than was socially acceptable. He quickly nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat before attempting to speak again.

“I, yes, that was… Lovely?” he rushed out, a shy smile finding its way onto his face. Themis absolutely beamed, maneuvering his hand so their fingers were intertwined.

“How’s this, then?” he asked. Erichthonios nodded mutely, staring down at their joined hands in what surely looked like lovestruck awe. “Would you care to take me on the grand tour of your records?”

“Ah, right, the records. Please, follow me,” he said, putting on his most professional warder voice as he opened the door.

Themis gently squeezed his hand as they passed the threshold, and Erichthonios suspected that they had officially crossed the boundary between being friends and something more.

Not that he was complaining.

Chapter Text

“Is that Thancred I see?” a voice called out. Thancred stopped in his tracks, looking up to find a pixie hovering just off the path.

“Indeed,” he said, raising a hand in greeting. Minfilia slid behind him, bright blue eyes watching the pixie carefully. Waiting to be tricked. The pixies liked them well enough, but it was always prudent to be prepared when venturing into Il Mheg.

“I’m glad I found you! It’s Urianger, you see,” the pixie said, looking forlornly in the direction of the man’s house. The hairs on the back of Thancred’s neck stood up as they trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air.

“Urianger? What’s wrong with him?” he asked, trying his best to not to show his worry outwardly.

“He’s collapsed on his desk, and none of us can wake him up!” they finished, a pout on their lips.

Thancred froze as he processed the information.

Then his instincts kicked in.

“Minfilia,” Thancred said, glancing at the child behind him. “We have to run.” Minfilia nodded, and Thancred took off.

He barely heard the pixie yelling at them as they sprinted down the roads of Il Mheg. He cursed the fact that the fields were unsafe to traverse, forcing them to waste time taking the road through Lydha Lran.

Blessedly, no pixies thought to stop them on their way through the village.

Soon, the Bookman’s Shelves came into view, just as Thancred thought his lungs may give out on him. But though his prize was in sight, he couldn’t slow down just yet.

There was a conspicuous lack of pixies flying around the building. He guessed they must all be inside.

Trying to wake Urianger.

Thancred bolted through the front door, Minfilia following at his heels.

“Upstairs!” he commanded, pointing at the door to the steps even as he made a run for Urianger’s chambers. “If he’s up there, call for me. Otherwise, stay there.”

“But Thancred,” Minfilia protested.

“Don’t argue, go!” Without giving her another opportunity to object, Thancred opened the door, slipping inside as a wave of anxiety hit him.

All at once, his worst fears were realized.

He had held out hope that it was simply a cruel trick by the pixies, that he would burst in to find his friend looking bewildered at his unexpected presence. But no.

Urianger lay with his head resting against the table. Unmoving. A half dozen pixies hovered about, poking and prodding.

Thancred’s heart dropped to his stomach.

“Urianger!” he yelled between heaving breaths, rushing to the man’s side and shaking his shoulder, hoping he was just asleep. “Wake up, damn you!” The pixies swarmed around him, one of them even diving down to tug at Urianger’s ear.

Thancred pressed two fingers against the side of Urianger’s neck, praying to the Twelve that may not even hear him that he would be okay.

“You care about him a lot, don’t you?” one of the pixies hovering by his shoulder asked. “It’s almost as if you love him!”

“I do!” he snapped, resisting the urge to bat the pixie away with his free hand.

“Oh Thancred, you always know just what to say!” they said with a giggle. With a snap of their fingers, the magic in the room disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Urianger disappeared from under his hand.

No, a pixie was in his place, giggling at Thancred’s expression as the haze cleared.

Urianger, the real one this time, was seated at the other side of the table. A book sat in front of him, along with a cup of tea long since grown cold.

Thancred had been tricked.

“Why you little,” he started, turning to extract his poorly-planned revenge upon the pranksters. Fortunately, they had anticipated his reaction and were halfway out the door by the time he had made a quarter turn.

Leaving him alone to deal with the consequences of his unintentional confession.

“Are you… all right?” he asked, hoping he sounded less awkward than he felt.

“Indeed, the pixies merely used their magicks to hide me from thy sight,” he reassured. “I… apologize, I was caught off-guard, and in doing so caused thee distress.”

An awkward silence hung in the air. Thancred picked at a loose thread on his coat and tried to catch his breath.

“Where did they even get the idea to ask that question?” Thancred mused, mostly to himself. Though, as soon as the words left his lips, a light flush appeared on Urianger’s cheeks, and he seemed to sink deeper into his chair.

“Ah… the fault may lieth with me. They had asked about our past together, and perhaps I was a bit too…reverent, in mine descriptions.” Thancred didn’t have to look to know that it was his turn to blush, it was a feeling he had grown all too accustomed to when it came to Urianger.

“Well… as you heard, your affections are not unrequited,” he said awkwardly. Gods, some bard he was.

“If thou wouldst have me,” Urianger started.

“Gods, Urianger, can I just kiss you already?” Thancred cut him off.

Urianger blinked once, twice, three times as he processed what was just said.

Then he nodded, and Thancred crossed the distance between them in the time it took Urianger to turn in his chair. He laid a hand against the Elezen’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the archon mark reverently.

“I hath dreamed of this moment for so long,” Urianger said, voice a near whisper.

“As have I,” Thancred replied, leaning down to capture Urianger’s lips in the kiss he had dreamed of for so long.

Chapter Text

C’nhea Tia did not belong in Sharlayan.

It wasn’t the stuffy atmosphere, the isolated nature of the island, or even the lack of good food.

It was the researchers tailing him around every corner.

He got it. Truly, he did. He was one of the first people to ever be un-tempered. It made sense that they wanted to speak to him about the experience.

But couldn’t they let him eat his godsdamned sandwich in peace?

“C’nhea Tia!” the researcher that had just approached him greeted. Some few others stood just behind, notebooks and writing instruments in hand. “My colleagues and I would like to ask you a few questions about your experience with being tempered!”

“Can this wait until I’ve finished my meal?” he asked, not even pretending to hide his agitation.

“It will only take a moment,” they reassured. Right. A moment. Just like all the other times.

Perhaps he should ask about giving a lecture someday, answer his most frequently asked questions and direct every future wayward researcher to ask those who had attended. He could try to convince Alisaie to join him as well, as to spare her the same fate.

“Please, let me eat,” he begged. “I’ll answer every question you have if you let me finish my sandwich in peace.” He looked down at his meal despondently,

“Is that my favorite little brother?” a familiar voice called out suddenly. C’nhea glanced in the direction of the noise, finding a refreshingly recognizable figure approaching him.

“Constance!” he called out, waving her over to join him. The researchers glanced over as well, some of them looking briefly startled by her appearance. She was quite out of place in the stuffy city, and C’nhea briefly wondered if she was cold in the so-called coat that would look more at home on the deck of a Lominsan ship.

“There ye are, lad. I was hopin’ I would find ye here,” she said as she approached, slipping easily into her pirate’s tongue. She must be worried about him if she was pulling out all the stops like this.

The researchers, blessedly, stayed silent as she brushed past them and sat across from C’nhea, leaning one elbow on the table.

“Little Alisaie sent me to fetch ye, said Lady Ameliance wanted to invite ye to tea with her and the family,” she explained. “Alisaie thinks they’ll be askin’ how yer gettin’ on in the city, who’s givin’ ye problems, that sorta thing,” she finished, giving a long glance to the nervous-looking group still hovered around the table.

Just as quickly as they had appeared, they scattered back into the city proper.

C’nhea breathed a sigh of relief and lifted his sandwich to his mouth to take another bite.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, mouth still half full.

“Chew your food, Nhea. An’ I thought I was the pirate around here,” Constance laughed. C’nhea stuck his tongue out at her.

They sat in blessed silence as C’nhea finished his sandwich, Constance busying herself with cleaning the knife strapped to her waist, C’nhea guessed it was more of a deterrent than a necessity.

Finally, C’nhea’s sandwich was finished, with no other untimely interruptions to speak of.

“Shall we be off then, little brother?” Constance asked, already standing up. C’nhea hummed an acknowledgement, gathering his dishes as he stood. Constance made her way to the edge of the road as he dropped them off at the counter, though she still kept an eye out for any more ambushes.

“Thanks for that,” he said as he rejoined her.

“Course,” she replied, slinging an arm around him as she started off on the path. “I’d crawl out of my skin if they started buggin’ me like that.” C’nhea snorted, nodding.

“It’s awful. It’s like you’re the last bite of cake at a noble’s banquet. Everybody wants you, but they’re too polite to just grab you.” Constance burst out laughing, nearly pulling C’nhea down by accident.

“A terrible fate,” she agreed solemnly.

“There’s no tea, though, is there?” he asked with a giggle as he realized Constance was leading them nowhere, shaking her arm off from around his shoulder.

“‘Fraid not. But you’re so cute I doubt Lady Ameliance could deny you if you asked,” she teased. “Might even get that stuffy husband o’ hers to join.” Constance cleared her throat, shaking her head lightly. “Sorry, hard to shake the accent sometimes.” C’nhea shook his own head, nudging her shoulder fondly.

“No apologizing for using your powers of piratey persuasion to save me from the terrors of academia,” he scolded. “Though, after that ordeal, tea does sound nice… Really think Lady Ameliance would be okay with it?”

“Of course she would be, she adores you!” Constance reassured. “I bet Alphinaud would be happy to join as well. Or was it Alisaie you were hoping for?” she teased.

“Shut up!”

Chapter Text

Granson still marveled at the stars.

They were no longer a novelty to those who resided in the Crystarium. It had been so long since their return that on most nights the platforms that had held nearly half the settlement’s population on the nights following the return of the darkness laid nearly bare. Aside from the researchers who had tasked themselves with charting their movements since the days before the Flood, precious few found reason to gaze upon the stars for hours on end.

The peace was nice. When the din of the bar became overwhelming even from his usual haunt against the wall, relishing in the night air was quite the welcome reprieve.

“Enjoying the view?” a voice asked from behind him. Granson turned his head, a small smile gracing his face as he saw his friend approaching.

“Cerigg,” he acknowledged. “What brings you out so late?” Cerigg laughed, leaning on the railing beside him.

“I could be asking you the same,” he teased. “Just couldn’t sleep. I don’t get how Taynor can fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow…” Cerigg shook his head, a fond look on his face. He looked up at the sky, holding his tongue for only a few moments before speaking again. “It’s hard to get used to it, isn’t it? The stars, I mean.”

“I never imagined I would get to see them,” Granson agreed. “They’re far brighter than I thought they’d be.”

“Taynor grew up with them, you know. Was quite a shock to him when he heard they were gone.”

“Are they as he remembered?” Granson, admittedly, didn’t know all that much about the world before the Flood. He had learned more since he returned to the Crystarium with its vast library, but his knowledge was still meager at best.

“He says they’re even brighter now. Full of hope, he calls it.” Cerigg grinned, his pride showing as he talked about the boy he had helped pull from the void.

“Like the rest of the world they watch over,” he mused.

“Look at you, getting all sentimental,” Cerigg teased, nudging Granson’s shoulder. “Taynor wants to see it all, you know. The world’s changed so much since he’s been gone, and since he came back, for that matter. Not that he was even able to experience it before…”

“Will you be joining him?” Granson asked. He was sure the boy could handle himself in a fight, from what he’d been told, but he doubted he would be able to handle the nature of life on the road alone. Not that Cerigg would just leave him like that, but it would put his mind at ease to be sure.

“Of course I will be. What kind of man would I be if I let my young charge brave the dangers of the world alone?”

“Fair enough. Have you decided where you’ll be going first?”

“Kholusia, we think. Lue-Reeq told us of the situation in Gatetown, and if they still have need of hands we’d be glad to offer ours.” Cerigg flashed a smile. “I might be better with a bow than my hands, but I’m sure they can find something for me to do.” Granson huffed, nodding his head.

“Plenty of work for a hunter out there, especially. Coin’s not great, but I’m guessing you’re not in it for that.”

“You’re right about that,” he confirmed. “Least, Taynor’s not. Me, on the other hand…” Granson barked a laugh, shaking his head.

“There’s the Cerigg I know.” Cerigg laughed alongside him, not even pretending to be offended.

“Suppose I deserved that one.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, watching the gentle light of the stars together. It was nice, admittedly, to have company.

“How would you like to join us?” Cerigg asked, his tone suddenly serious.

“Join you?” Granson repeated.

“We had a long talk, decided we wanted to travel the world and help whoever we could. We could use a man with a strong sword, if you’d have us.”

Granson looked up at the sky once more, admiring the twinkling of the stars in all their beauty.

A year ago, he could not have imagined the sight. Consumed by rage as he was, he could scarcely find joy in anything, let alone the sky that he once cursed. But here he was, gazing at the stars with a friend at his side.

Just as the world around him grew and changed, he would as well.

“Aye, I’ll join you. As long as the coin’s good,” he teased. Cerigg clapped a hand on his shoulder with a laugh.

“Of course, of course. We wouldn’t dream of letting our fearless swordsman go without his pay!”

Under the light of the stars, a new adventure began.

Chapter Text

Lahabrea cut no corners when it came to his work.

Every creation was made with the utmost care, paying attention to each ilm of aether he wove. When on a particularly difficult project, he would sometimes spend days pouring over the concept before he would even attempt to form it. Everything he made, he made to the best of his ability.

His handicrafts were no exception.

That’s what he said to himself as he sat in a veritable sea of yarn on the living room floor, a half formed ambystoma on his lap.

One mistake. One little mistake in his stitching, and hours of his work were rendered useless.

Sure, he could simply use a bit of magic to fix it, but that defeated the point of making it by hand in the first place.

Though, he supposed his knitting was also supposed to be relaxing, and worrying like this was defeating the point of that as well…

“Love?” Hesperos called out as he entered the room, staring down at where Lahabrea sat with his yarn and failed project. “Did something happen?”

“I ruined it,” Lahabrea stated simply. Hesperos smiled despite the drastic declaration, making his way further into the room to sit in front of Lahabrea. He made sure to mind the yarn, a gesture which Lahabrea deeply appreciated.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

“I made a mistake. At least an hour ago,” Lahabrea replied, lifting the small ambystoma to show Hesperos the spot. He took the plush creature gently in his hands, examining the spot Lahabrea had pointed out carefully.

“I don’t think you should fix it,” he declared, placing it back into Lahabrea’s hands. Lahabrea furrowed his brow, scanning Hesperos’s face for any hint of sarcasm.

“Why not?” he asked, a hint of frustration slipping through. “It doesn’t look like it’s supposed to.”

“Imperfections are a part of life, my love. Not everything you do can, or should, be without its flaws.” Lahabrea shook his head, a small smile gracing his face.

“You are entirely too good at this,” he said as he picked his needles back up. Hesperos laughed, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to Lahabrea’s lips before standing back up.

“I do my best.”

Chapter Text

Rielle sighed as she crossed the threshold into Moghome to hear Sidurgu yelling at some poor Moogle. She broke into a run, grateful she had the foresight to stash his sword and armor away from where he was resting. She was equally grateful that Myste was elsewhere, fully convinced that he would have made the situation even worse than it already was.

“You rotten little shite!” Sidurgu yelled as Rielle rounded the corner to his temporary chamber. One of the moogles cowered in front of him, holding a staff in one paw and in the other a… harp?

Oh, Halone.

“Sid!” Rielle yelled. The Au Ra stiffened at the sound of her voice, looking almost guiltily at her.

“He tried to kill me, kupo!” the moogle cried, floating to hide behind Rielle.

“He doesn’t like music,” she said as soothingly as she could. “I’ll take it from here, and see that he doesn’t try to hurt you again.”

“Thank you, Rielle!” the moogle replied, taking the opportunity to fly out as fast as his wings could take him.

Thus began the onerous task of convincing Sidurgu to return to his rest.

“Sid,” Rielle repeated. “You’re bleeding again.” Sidurgu looked down, grimacing at the red soaking through his bandages.

“Damn it all…” he muttered.

“Lay down,” she said, gesturing at the bed the moogles had kindly set up for him. Well, they called it a bed, but Sidurgu and Rielle could both agree that it was just a pile of soft-enough plants. Sidurgu obediently sat down, unwrapping his own bandages and revealing the wounds that had reopened in his anger.

“Explains why it hurt so much to yell,” he groaned, laying back before Rielle could ask him to. She made her way to the side of the bed like she had dozens of times before, taking out her staff as she examined the wounds. It certainly could have been worse, but she was still rather upset with him for undoing all her hard work.

“We can’t go home until you feel better,” she reminded as she channeled aether into her staff, then from the staff into Sidurgu’s wounds.

“I know.”

“And you know that getting up and reopening your wounds will make it take longer for you to heal?”

“I do.”

“You know that the longer it takes for you to heal, the longer you have to be around Moogles?” The spell finished, she crossed her arms. Sidurgu’s flesh mended itself before her eyes, easier this time than when they were fresh but still slower than she would have liked.

“I get it,” he sighed.

“So you’ll rest? And leave the moogles alone?”

“He came to me!” Sidurgu protested, pulling his arm back as if to lift himself up. Rielle shot a harsh look at him, and he let the arm fall flat.

“Sid.”

“Fine. I’ll leave them alone if they leave me alone.” Rielle kept her arms crossed, waiting. “And I’ll stay in bed. There. Happy?” he huffed.

“Very,” she confirmed, a grin finding its way onto her face as she patted his hair. Sidurgu had the good sense to not comment on the affection. “Now get some rest, and I’ll make sure the moogles don’t come over here without me.” Sidurgu let his head fall back onto the makeshift pillow, his mending wounds sapping him of his energy.

“Thank you, Rielle.”

“Goodnight, Sid.”

Chapter Text

“Constance, was it?” a voice called from out of nowhere.

There should be nobody else in the desert.

Constance wheeled around, hand already gripping the handle of her newly-purchased knife.

Before her stood a man dressed in robes, no taller than she and wearing a wicked grin.

“Name yourself, bastard!” she shouted, deepening her voice as far as she could to try to make herself sound older and, hopefully, more dangerous. She had only just left Rabanastre, and already she had to deal with this shite?

“Settle, settle,” the man soothed, holding up his hands. “I am merely here with a proposition for the newly-escaped Viera girl trying to find a new home, presumably not in this desert.” He swept one arm down into a bow, holding the other still in her view. “As for me, you may call me Fandaniel.”

“How do you know who I am?” she growled, pointing the knife at him and hoping he didn’t notice the slight tremor in his wrist. “Why are you here?”

“We have been waiting for you for many long years, Constance. As for why, one of our number recognized a certain… shine, in your soul,” he said, a disconcerting laugh falling from his lips. “Should you accept our invitation, that shine will allow you to access untold power. You could go anywhere you wished, be whoever you could dream of. Power you could never have imagined in the palm of your hand.”

“This sounds too good to be true,” she accused.

“I truly do offer all that I say,” Fandaniel reassured. “However, there are certain… tasks that we would ask you to fulfill. In order to access this power, you must needs accept the memories of the woman who once held your soul. You would carry on her tasks, though I promise you will have ample time for your own pursuits.”

“I will not be a pawn in your schemes!” Constance yelled. Fandaniel laughed, reaching out as if to touch her. Without hesitation she swung her knife, drawing a deep cut along his wrist. In an instant, he was ten fulms in front of her, clutching the wound tightly.

“How rude!” he scolded.

“I won’t pretend to know what sort of tasks you would ask me to do, but for that amount of power I can’t imagine they would be anything but pure evil,” she accused.

“You wound me, truly,” Fandaniel moaned, bringing both hands to his chest dramatically.

“I’ll do far more than wound you if you don’t leave now,” she warned. Fandaniel laughed in that infuriating way again, approaching her slowly as if she were a cornered animal.

She supposed she was.

“At least consider my words. I hold not an onze of regret for taking on my predecessor’s role, and I can assure you that yours is even more exciting than mine,” he said, taking small steps towards her.

“Considered and denied,” Constance insisted, readjusting the position of her knife to be level with his chest. Still, she held her ground, not wanting to give him a reason to act any more weirdly than he already was.

“I am certain that if you spoke to another one of our number, you would be willing to accept the gifts we offer you.”

“I don’t need gifts from some creepy stranger!” she yelled, closing the distance between them and sinking her knife deep between his ribs. Fandaniel groaned, bringing his hands to the hole in his chest as Constance slid the knife back out.

“If not me, then another,” he said, a wicked grin on his face even as blood poured from his wound. He sunk to his knees, hood finally dropping to reveal the face of a young man Constance did not recognize. “Perhaps we will cross paths again and I will be the one to sway you,” he said, grinning even as he fell backwards into the sand.

“We can’t well meet again if you’re dead,” Constance countered.

“Among our gifts,” he wheezed out, “is our inability to die.”

Fandaniel’s chest stopped moving.

Constance sobbed.

Chapter Text

Hythlodaeus came home to a quiet house.

This wasn’t unusual, of course, living with Hades. But he had brought home takeout as a surprise, and he was loath to let it grow cold. He set the bag on the kitchen counter before beginning his search for his husband’s napping spot.

A quick stop in the living room told him that the man had not fallen asleep on the couch. Thankfully, a glance into his office confirmed that Hades had not fallen asleep on a pile of paperwork. Again. That meant that, unless Hades had rolled himself up into a blanket in one of the obscure corners of the house like he was wont to do sometimes, he would be tucked into their bed.

Hythlodaeus made his way to the bedroom, humming the tune that had been stuck in his head all day as he went. He pushed the door open slowly, finding, as he suspected, Hades nestled deep into the covers. On the bedside table lay a book and a cup of tea. A wave of fondness swept over Hythlodaeus as he imagined Hades desperately trying to finish the chapter even as his eyes began to close, like he had witnessed so many times before. He made his way to the table, touching the side of the cup to confirm that the tea had grown tepid since its owner abandoned it. Good, that meant he didn’t have to feel too guilty about waking him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed his hand over Hades’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him.

“Love, I’m home,” he said, waiting for Hades to acknowledge him. But he did not, so he repeated the motion, only for Hades’s slumber to continue unabated.

Fine then. He would have to resort to drastic measures.

“Hades, wake up!” he said, shaking his husband’s shoulder with a bit more force. “I don’t like this,” he continued, switching to the other shoulder. “Hades, wake up!”

Hades snored.

“Hey, hello!” he tried, a little louder this time.

For a moment, it looked as if Hades was going to open his eyes, but he stubbornly buried his head deeper into the pillow instead. Hythlodaeus was half convinced that Hades was truly awake and just messing with him at this point, so he would gladly return the favor.

“Time to wake up time to wake up,” he continued, clapping his hands a bit above his husband’s head. “Can you hear me, wake up, Hades!”

Hades faked a snore. Rather poorly at that. Well, then, he definitely didn’t have to feel bad about raising his voice again.

“I don’t like this, Hades, wake up!”

Hades finally opened one eye, scowling at the disturbance to his rest.

“Sorry, love. I brought takeout,” Hythlodaeus said, lowering his voice to a normal level with a smile as he reached out to run his fingers through Hades’s hair.

“Forgiven,” Hades mumbled out sleepily. He raised himself up onto his elbows, clumsily trying to orient himself into a sitting position without hitting Hythlodaeus in the process. An adorable sight, if Hythlodaeus were to be the judge.

“I’ll pull down some plates while you wake up,” he said, pressing a kiss to Hades’s forehead before he stood. “And don’t go back to sleep, or your dessert is mine,” he warned playfully.

Chapter Text

Hythlodaeus wandered the streets of Amaurot, searching for… something that he couldn’t remember. No matter, he would figure it out sooner or later.

Though, there was something odd about the people walking beside him…

He put aside his thoughts of the lecture Hades would surely give him if he found out about this and stepped a few ilms to the right to cause a collision with the person that was about to pass him.

Hythlodaeus merely stumbled, but the person he ran into tumbled to the ground, the hood of their robe falling back in the process.

What lay on the sidewalk in front of him was not an Amaurotine, no.

It was a humanoid shark.

Hythlodaeus tore his gaze away from the being in front of him, looking around rapidly to see if anyone else had reacted to the creature’s presence.

Instead of the hooded figures that had walked alongside him but moments before, there were more sharks. They wore the robes all the same, but all their hoods had fallen to show their scaly faces.

“Hythlodaeus,” one of the passing sharks called out to him. He stumbled backwards, running into another shark and knocking them down.

“Hythlodaeus,” a second shark repeated. He bolted down the street, the sharks calling a chorus of his name as he went. But no matter where he went, the sharks followed. Calling out to him, urging him to…

Hythlodaeus awoke with a start, breaths heaving and body soaked with sweat.

Hades stood above him with a hand on his shoulder, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

“Nightmare,” he said, voice heavy with sleep but still laced with a tinge of fear. “A moment, please.” Hades rubbed small circles on his shoulder, the touch serving to ground him and help him calm down.

“Are you quite alright?” Hades finally asked, trying and failing to sound more sarcastic than concerned.

“Perfectly fine. Now, what occasion brought the great Emet-Selch to my office to rouse me from my nightmare?” he asked, trying and failing to hold back a yawn. Perhaps his unplanned nap had done even less than he thought.

“It’s time to go home,” he replied simply. “I waited for you outside, but you never showed up, so I came to find you.”

“It’s that late already?” Hythlodaeus asked, startled. Though, he supposed it was close to that time the last time he had looked at the clock… “Ah, I meant to look over this concept before I left,” he said, finally remembering the work he had fallen asleep on top of.

“And you scold me about overworking myself,” Hades grumbled, plucking the piece of paper away from him and setting it on the top of the stack marked for unreviewed concepts.

“I’m not overworking myself,” he protested, pouting. “Seeing so many shark concepts in a day just makes me tired…” His eyes widened in realization as the memory of his nightmare came back in bits and pieces.

“What is it?” Hades asked, sounding more concerned that he would ever admit.

“The sharks, Hades, I had a nightmare about the sharks!” he wailed, dramatically grabbing onto Hades’s robe like a terrified child. To his surprise, Hades obeyed his pull, closing the short gap between them and petting over Hythlodaeus’s hair soothingly.

“There, there. Let’s get you home for some pepper rest, and tomorrow we can talk about implementing a screening process for shark concepts,” he suggested.

Hythlodaeus would like that very much.

Chapter Text

There was nothing on TV.

Or, at least, that’s what Camus determined after flipping through channels for five minutes. Commercials, reruns of things he’d see a million times before, and even more things he had no interest in.

“Oh, are they playing Supernatural?” Thancred asked, rounding the couch and sitting down next to Camus.

Well, that certainly answered the question of what to watch.

It had been quite a while since Camus had watched Supernatural, though he used to be a dedicated fan. At least a few seasons had passed, and at this point all he recognized were the characters themselves. None of the story seemed familiar to him, but Thancred seemed to be following along well enough so he kept trying to keep up.

Then, Dean and Castiel were in the bunker together.

Castiel began monologuing.

Camus watched in horror as the love confession he had been hoping for since he was a teenager played out in front of him. Thancred watched him with sadistic amusement as he processed Castiel’s tears and Dean’s short replies.

Then, that strange black goo cut his teenage dreams down where they stood.

“What… did we just watch?” Camus asked, staring at the tv in shock. He had heard about this scene through memes when it first aired, but this… defied any and all expectations.

“Was that not the most homophobic gay love scene you’ve ever seen?” Thancred asked, laughing at Camus’s expression. “He was gay, and they sent him to superhell for it.”

“Does this mean we’re going to superhell?” Camus replied, trying to act concerned but failing miserably when a few giggles slipped out.

“I don’t know, let’s see if some weird goo swallows one of us up before our lips touch,” Thancred suggested. Camus snorted, even as he turned towards his boyfriend properly. Thancred moved towards him infuriatingly slowly, moving backwards every time Camus tried to close the gap. He even paused once to look around Camus’s shoulder for the monster, but eventually their lips met in a soft kiss, the kind that Camus could never get enough of.

“I love you,” he said, leaning against Thancred’s shoulder after they parted.

”Don’t do this, Cas,” Thancred replied, barely stifling a laugh.

“You bastard!” Camus exclaimed, pulling the pillow from under his arm and swatting Thancred with it. Thancred dramatically fell backwards, dissolving into hiccuping giggles as Camus continued swinging the pillow at him, though he could barely contain his laughter himself.

This was definitely better than being consumed by the Empty.

Chapter Text

Hesperos was overworking himself.

Lahabrea could see it in the way he held himself. His posture sagged, there were bags under his eyes, and he wasn’t as cheerfully happy as he usually was.

He could also see it in the way Hesperos hadn’t come to bed in days.

Lahabrea knew what it was like to overwork oneself, and he knew full well how awful it felt. He had learned his lesson a thousand times over, and he would be damned if he were to let Hesperos repeat his mistakes.

And so he marched into Hesperos’s office to drag the man to bed. Literally, if need be.

As expected, Hesperos was seated at his desk, thoroughly absorbed in whatever work lay in front of him. Absorbed enough to barely even notice Lahabrea approach him.

“It’s time for bed,” Lahabrea stated simply, placing a hand on Hesperos’s shoulder. Hesperos blinked up at him, processing, a red mark on his cheek from where his knuckles had pressed into his skin. Lahabrea brought his other hand up to rub his thumb over the mark gently, as if he could make it go away with a gentle touch.

“I’m not finished,” Hesperos finally responded, gesturing to the pile of papers in front of him.

“There’s nothing to be gained by working yourself to the bone,” Lahabrea countered. “I should know.” Hesperos opened his mouth as if to argue, but quickly thought better of it and scribbled down a note so he could continue where he had left off when morning came. Once he was satisfied that he would be able to follow his own instructions later on he stood, wincing as his legs protested. Lahabrea looked him up and down critically, but led the way out of Hesperos’s office without a comment.

They went about their respective nightly routines in relative silence, aside from the occasional request for the other to move over a bit. It was nice, Hesperos conceded. He had missed this. Missed Lahabrea.

Finally, the two entered the bedroom, both of them heading straight for Hesperos’s side of the bed. Wait, what?

Hesperos turned around to ask Lahabrea just what he was doing, only for the words to die in his throat as Lahabrea very carefully slid his glasses off of his face. That was… unexpected.

“Are you trying to spoil me?” he asked playfully as Lahabrea folded his glasses and set them on the bedside table.

“Perhaps if I spoil you enough, you’ll think twice before not coming to bed for half a week,” he grumbled. Hesperos at least had the good sense to look sheepish. “Now go to bed. Do not make me pick you up,” Lahabrea threatened, though his smile gave him away.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Hesperos laughed, shaking his head fondly before obediently lifting the blankets and laying down. As he went to pull the sheets back over himself, however, Lahabrea swooped in to tuck him in instead.

“I was not joking about spoiling you.”

“I’ll try to keep myself in check, I promise,” Hesperos said, giving one of the tired smiles that led Lahabrea into this endeavor to begin with.

Holding his tongue from another lecture, lest he upset Hesperos when he was finally relaxed, Lahabrea made his way to his own side of the bed and slipped under the covers. He turned himself towards Hesperos, lifting an arm in an invitation which Hesperos quickly accepted.

He buried his head into Lahabrea’s chest with a contented sigh, snuggling close as if the man was a lifeline. Lahabrea could feel Hesperos relax, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He laid a kiss on the top of Hesperos’s head as he properly settled down himself, finally feeling whole with the man in his arms again.

Chapter Text

“Constance!” Tansui whisper-yelled, shaking the Viera’s shoulder to wake her up.

“Huh?” she mumbled, rolling over and looking up groggily at him. Past his shoulder, she could still see the stars in the sky.

“Get up, and hurry, or Rasho is like to leave without us,” he said, tugging at her arm.

“Why’re we meeting him?” she asked, even as she rose from her bed.

“You wanted to leave for Hingashi, right? We’re not letting you run off alone,” he said, gesturing to the previously hidden bag of supplies he had brought back to Constance’s quarters. When did he even have the time to find where she had stashed that? “We’re not joining you, of course, but we can at least accompany you to your destination.”

“Are you offering to steal a boat for me, Tansui?” she asked, arm halfway through her sleeve. Tansui’s back was turned, but she could still spot the red at the tips of his ears.

“It’s already done. Rasho is waiting for us as we speak,” he replied, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Constance stepped up behind him, draping an arm around his shoulder.

“That,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Just as quickly as she appeared, she stepped away, grabbing a few last minute belongings to stuff into the bag Tansui had grabbed. Her hand hovered over a small box, holding a hair pin she had purchased in Rabanastre before she left for the Ruby Sea. She opened the lid, glancing briefly at the delicate object before shutting it again. She would leave it here, she decided, for Tansui and Rasho. Whether they kept it or sold it, she didn’t care. She just didn’t want to leave another home without a hint of her existence remaining.

“Ready?” Tansui asked as she reappeared at his side.

“Ready,” she confirmed, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Tansui blew out the candle he had lit in the room, plunging them deeper into darkness.

“Quickly then, or we’ll miss the boat,” he said, dragging her by the hand out the door and towards the sea. “Or worse, be caught.”

Constance shuttered at the thought.

They took their usual path out to sea, avoiding the night patrols and the buildings with restless occupants - a path developed over the course of much mischief. Constance was hit with a wave of sadness as she realized that this might well be the last time she took this path, let alone with Tansui by her side.

Soon enough, the stolen boat came into view, Rasho proudly standing on its deck. Constance and Tansui broke into a run, the sand crunching under their feet as they joined their friend.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, though his smile gave away his relief. Typical.

“Thanks, Rasho,” Constance said, just barely out of breath from their sprint. Without another word, Constance and Tansui began helping Rasho prepare to depart, a dance they had performed countless times before. Though Constance’s heart felt fit to race out of her chest, the familiar movements served to calm her as she journeyed into the unknown.

Soon, they were on the open water, the sound of the waves lapping against the hull helping her settle the last of her nerves. She would be alright, she decided, as long as she had the sea.

They sailed in silence, the weight of their actions hanging heavy in the air. Constance wished she could stay. She was sure Tansui and Rasho wished the same.

“Are you not worried about the consequences?” she finally asked, looking out across the sea as her home grew smaller and smaller in the distance.

“You’re worth it,” Tansui replied simply. Rasho laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

“You’ve gotten into more than enough trouble for us, Constance. It’s about time we returned the favor.”

Constance nearly countered that they had already gotten in trouble for her sake just as much as she had for them, but decided to let the excuse slide. She would make it up to them, someday. She swore it.

Chapter Text

Landrenel was barely old enough to pronounce his own name the first time he wandered into the Confluence.

He had run off and wandered up the stairs in the time it took his caretaker to find room for his newly purchased book into his bag - a testament both to Landrenel’s speed and how stuffed said bag was.

As he stepped through the propped-open doors, he stared in awe at the sight before him. Countless glowing crystals were strewn about, some in simple crates and others in fancy containers that reminded him of the Aetheryte in the center of the city. Researchers wandered about, chatting amongst each other as they went about their tasks. He made his way further into the building, entranced by the gentle blue glow that seemed to be everywhere.

“Well aren’t you just adorable!” a strange woman suddenly exclaimed, setting the crystal she held on a nearby shelf before kneeling down in front of Landrenel. “What’s your name, little one?” she asked.

“Lan… Landwenel!” he replied, smiling widely at how close he had gotten to saying his name the way the adults did.

“Well, Landrenel, it’s nice to meet you! My name is Bloewyda. Is there someone looking after you?”

“Yes,” he replied with a pout. Why did the adults always ask that question when he went off exploring?

“Can you tell me what he looks like?” Miss Bloewyda asked, leaning slightly to the side to glance over Landrenel’s shoulder to the double doors behind him.

“Umm, his haiw looks like mine, he has a tail, and his name is…” he trailed off, looking around as he tried to remember his caretaker’s name. “He has a big bag,” he finished, in lieu of the name.

“A blond haired Miqo’te with a big bag, then?” she summarized, waiting for Landrenel to nod in confirmation before she stood up. She made her way to the propped open doors, taking a good look outside before coming back to where Landrenel was waiting.

“See him?” he asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He hoped he didn’t have to go back already.

“I bet he’s off looking for you as we speak. Would you like some water while we wait?”

“Yes pwease!” he replied, grinning as Miss Bloewyda took his hand to lead him a bit deeper into the building.

Miss Bloewyda was nice, Landrenel decided as he sipped on his water and listened to her tell him all about what she was doing. He wasn’t old enough to use the Aethernet, but he had always been fascinated by the concept. How lucky for him to stumble into the building where such things were researched!

“Have any of you seen a little Elezen boy, about yae high, blond hair?” a blond Miqo’te called out suddenly as he rushed through the doors of the Confluence. His tail swished in agitation behind him, fur standing on end. His bag hung heavy from his shoulder, filled to the brim with classwork and books.

“He’s right over here!” Miss Bloewyda answered, waving the student over. Landrenel pouted, knowing his explanation was about to be cut short.

“There you are!” the Miqo’te said as he ran up to them, frantically looking Landrenel up and down to make sure he was alright.

“Don’t be too mad at him,” Miss Bloewyda said gently. “He was good company.”

“I just don’t think I’m cut out for babysitting,” the student admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I got so caught up in looking at books that I didn’t even realize he’d run off…”

“These things happen, you know. Children are fast. But if you don’t enjoy something, there’s no shame in stopping,” she said with a smile. The student sighed, ears drooping.

“Guess I’ve got a lot to think about, huh? Thank you for looking after him,” he said, taking Landrenel’s hand in his. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Come back anytime you’d like, Landrenel!” the kind woman called out as he was guided out of the doors.

———————
As the years went by, Landrenel found himself spending more and more time in and around the Confluence. Especially once he started babysitting Moenbryda for Wilfsunn and Bloewyda.

Urianger tended to tag along as well, sometimes by his parents request and sometimes by his own. He behaved himself well enough, so Landrenel was more than happy to bring him along. Moenbryda was happy, too. Happy enough that she didn’t even complain when Landrenel dragged the two of them around the city on an errand for Wilfsunn.

“Master Wilfsunn!” Landrenel called out as he pushed open the door to the Confluence, ushering the children in before he entered himself.

“Welcome back, you three!” Wilfsunn called back, waving them over to the table where he was sitting. Moenbryda ran ahead, while Urianger instead grabbed Landrenel’s hand and walked close to his side.

“Where would you like this?” Landrenel asked, lifting up the bag of supplies they had retrieved.

“Anywhere you can find an open space is fine,” he answered. Landrenel nodded, glancing around the tables to find any space that was not covered by crystals or research.

“Papa, papa!” Moenbryda called out, tugging on the sleeve of his coat as the two Elezen found a place to set the bag. “What’s this for?” she asked, pointing at the tools he had been fidgeting with as they entered.

“Come sit, Moen,” her father said, gesturing to the seat next to him. “Do you want to see what we’ve been working on?” he asked as she sat down. She nodded, but cast a look back to where Landrenel and Urianger were standing.

“Would you two like to see as well?” Wilfsunn asked, patting the open spot on his other side. Urianger immediately let go of Landrenel’s hand and ran, clamoring up onto the offered seat.

“Are you sure?” Landrenel asked as Wilfsunn looked at him expectantly.

“Of course. If you’ve a mind to learn, I’ve a mind to teach,” Wilfsunn reassured. So Landrenel stepped forward, standing behind where Urianger was sitting. “Pull up a chair, Lan,” he said with a good-natured laugh. “You may be young, but your neck will start hating you sooner or later if you keep doing that.”

“Speaking from experience?” Landrenel blurted out as he left to grab an open chair. Heat rose to his cheeks as he registered what he had said, and just who he had said it to. Wilfsunn’s laugh rang loud through the building, settling Landrenel’s nerves just a touch.

“There’s that teenage temper,” he teased. Seeing Landrenel’s worried face, he schooled his expression into something a bit more neutral. “In all seriousness, Lan, I have seen, heard, and said far worse than that. Now sit, and remember not to worry so much.”

Landrenel nodded, taking a deep breath to settle himself before sliding his chair next to Urianger’s and sitting down, turning his full attention to Wilfsunn’s new gadget.

———————

When Landrenel returned to Sharlayan with the Scions at his side, he did not expect for one of his first tasks to be visiting the building he frequented so much in his youth.

Entering that building with Urianger at his side - like they had done so many times in their years growing up - left him longing for simpler times. The days when all he had to worry about was looking after the children, getting home before the sun set, and learning as much as he could.

The Confluence seemed colder, somehow, when they learned that Wilfsunn and Bloewyda were not present.

He knew what Kytte’s words meant, of course. They had been sequestered into the lower levels of Labyrinthos, their contact with the outside world severed. Landrenel had been born in the depths of that facility, sent to the surface to live with family friends before he could even remember the faces of his own parents.

It all left a bad taste in his mouth.

A taste bad enough for it to be noticed in his expression, it seemed.

“I’m sure your soul will remain fully intact,” Thancred reassured as they stepped up towards the aetheryte, only half jokingly. Landrenel nodded, a smile only somewhat forced finding its way to his face.

So concerned was he with fixing his own expression as the teleportation magicks surrounded them, he nearly missed Kytte’s warning.

All thoughts of the past left his mind as the aether sickness hit.

Chapter Text

Hythlodaeus was not one to give up easily.

Whenever something vexed him, he would come at it from all angles. Try and try again, considering perspectives, variables, and past experiences, putting them all together until he finally succeeded.

Hades was not an exception to the rule.

In fact, Hythlodaeus may be more dedicated to this cause than any other.

Hades was a man who could not accept praise and affection for what they were. No, he would shrug it off with a sarcastic quip and go about his business. Not once did he ever seem to consider it genuine, or himself worthy. This, Hythlodaeus would not stand for.

So he set forth on his “war of attrition,” as Hades had once called it as he shrugged off a pat on the head.

“Hades,” Hythlodaeus called out as he entered the man’s apartment. Were it any other, he would have knocked instead of just barging in, but this was Hades. It’s not as if Hythlodaeus had never awoken to hear the sound of food being prepared in his own kitchen, a lecture about overworking awaiting him when he finally rolled out of bed after a long night spent studying.

By the unusual silence greeting him as he closed the front door, Hythlodaeus figured it was time for him to return the favor. Sans the lecture, of course.

He worked quickly and efficiently as he dug through the cupboards, humming quietly to himself as he went. He settled into a rhythm as he cooked, the dish slowly coming together.

“Hyth,” Hades muttered as he wandered into the kitchen, his hair sticking out all over and cat-shaped slippers still on his feet.

“Good morning, Hades! I hope I didn’t wake you,” Hythlodaeus replied, stirring the contents of the pan.

“No,” Hades replied simply, yawning again. He leaned against the counter, tipping his head back as if he couldn’t stand to hold it up anymore.

“Did you stay up all night working on something?” Hythlodaeus asked, keeping his tone as far away from accusatory as possible. He would be quite the hypocrite if he did otherwise, after all.

“Spare me the lecture,” Hades grumbled. Hythlodaeus laughed, shaking his head fondly.

“You’re the one with the penchant for lectures, darling,” he reminded. Hades hummed noncommittally, though Hythlodaeus noticed the barest hint of a smile on his face. Deciding that the dish could be left for a moment or five, he lowered the heat and turned his attention to Hades.

He finally tipped his head forward as Hythlodaeus approached, looking at him almost curiously. Hythlodaeus reached out, brushing his thumb across Hades’s cheekbone.

Hades, much to his surprise, leaned into the touch.

Hythlodaeus repeated the motion, smiling softly as Hades settled his head against his hand.

Then, he took a chance and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the man’s forehead. Again, not a whisper of protest fell from his lips. Maybe it was Hythlodaeus’s imagination, but he thought he felt Hades lean into that touch as well.

Perhaps the scales were finally tipping in his favor.

Chapter Text

“Oh, Hades, look at this!” Hythlodaeus called out, pulling the man’s attention away from the row of prints he had been looking at.

“Hm?” he answered, turning to see what Hythlodaeus had found at the next stall over.

“It’s you!” he exclaimed, holding out a plushie of Zhongli from Genshin Impact.

The same character Hades was cosplaying.

“It’s cute,” Hades replied simply before turning his attention back to the piece he had been admiring. Though not before noticing the Childe plushie on the same table, a perfect match to Hythlodaeus’s cosplay.

“You’re cute too,” Hythlodaeus teased, keeping his voice low enough that hopefully only Hades could hear.

Hades did not blush, thank you. It was simply a trick of the light.

A few minutes later saw them walking down the hall, the Zhongli plushie tucked safely into Hythlodaeus’s bag and a few prints in Hades’s. As they went to round the corner, Hythlodaeus paused, glancing at the sign hanging above them.

“Would you mind holding my things while I run to the restroom?” he asked, giving his best puppy dog eyes. As if he needed to. Hades nodded, taking Hythlodaeus’s bag before noticing a bit of purple hair sticking out from under his wig.

“You might want to fix your hair,” he said, gently poking at the stray lock. Hythlodaeus gasped dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest.

“I must right this wrong immediately!” he exclaimed, bursting into giggles as he dashed off to the restroom.

Hades cast a glance back at where they had come from, just barely spotting the table where the plushies had been. Perhaps, if he was quick…

“You went back for the Childe?” Hythlodaeus asked as he rejoined Hades, surprise clear in his voice at the sight of the plushie.

“Of course I did,” he replied easily. Why wouldn’t he? It was the matching plushie to his partner, it only made sense for him to get it.

“You’re such a softie,” Hythlodaeus commented, a teasing smile on his face.

“Tch,” Hades grumbled, pulling the Childe plushie closer to his chest and pointedly ignoring Hythlodaeus’s giggle.

So what if he was?

Chapter Text

Camus did not want to summon a primal.

No, after fighting them for years and nearly losing his life more times than he would like to admit, the last thing he wanted to do was summon one himself. Especially not one he knew he would have to best in combat.

But, well, if this was the only way to help Ryne return life to the Empty… they would do it.

He focused his mind, calling forth the hazy memories of his first battle against the Lord of the Whorl. The rush of panic when his arrows came flying back at him when he had shot at the primal’s head, the seawater that had filled his mouth and lungs as he slipped on the deck of the ship, and the smell… Gods, the smell…

“Camus!” Ryne yelled happily, ending his rapidly spiraling train of thought. “It worked!”

“It did?” he asked, not quite sure if he would have rathered it didn’t. He looked over at where Ryne’s eyes were trained, his breath catching in his throat as he processed what he was seeing.

The deiform being below resembled Leviathan little, but he supposed looks could be deceiving. He imagined his foe would be at least on the same level as the Leviathan he knew - if not more powerful. Desperately, he clung to the memories of that day off the shores of La Noscea, hoping some of the same strategies he used that day would work in this battle as well.

It had to work. It had to.

“Ready?” Ryne asked, blissfully unaware of the war inside Camus’s mind. He plastered his usual grin on his face, punching his own hand in a gesture he had long used to signal his readiness to fight.

“Ready!”

Camus was teleported to the ravine below.

Chapter Text

Lahabrea sighed contentedly as he turned the page of his book, readjusting as much as he could without disturbing the man laid across his legs.

Hesperos snored softly, his head pillowed in Lahabrea’s lap. The movie he had been so desperate to watch had long ended, though he had not even remained conscious long enough to see the credits. Lahabrea wasn’t even sure what was playing now, nor did he particularly care. It was merely noise to him, now.

His chapter finished, Lahabrea set his novel to the side, a soft smile on his face as he turned his attention to Hesperos once more. He reached down, carefully stroking across the man’s cheek with his thumb. Neither of them were good at taking care of themselves, he knew, but the bags under Hesperos’s eyes ignited a worry in him that he knew he’d have to deal with sooner or later.

Later worked.

Ever so gently, he moved his fingers across Hesperos’s skin, mapping it as if this were the first time he had the chance. It was most assuredly not, but he would still take every opportunity he had to do so - especially now, when Hesperos was too unconscious to quip about how lovingly he was looking at him.

He trailed his fingers down the man’s chest, carefully taking Hesperos’s hand in his own. His free hand, meanwhile, began gathering the long hair that had been splayed all over his lap into something more manageable. Perhaps, if Hesperos was able to keep his eyes open long enough, he would braid it for him. A skill he had never expected to learn, but both of them had to admit that it was calming, especially after a hard day of work.

“Mmph,” Hesperos mumbled after a few minutes of this treatment, though he still did not open his eyes. Lahabrea chuckled lowly, leaning down to press a kiss against Hesperos’s forehead.

“You missed the end of your movie,” he said, tone low and, he hoped, soothing.

“Tomorrow,” Hesperos mumbled sleepily, turning his head to bury his face into Lahabrea’s stomach. Lahabrea laughed again, pressing a kiss to the side of Hesperos’s head this time. Hesperos fell back to his previous position, a smile on his face as he finally opened his eyes. He looked up at Lahabrea like he hung the moon, and Lahabrea was sure he was looking at him the same way.

They would have to get up and get themselves to bed soon, he knew. But for now, that mattered little and less. All that mattered was savoring this perfect moment together.

Chapter Text

Lucky hummed as he used his knife to cut the vegetables he’d foraged into the pot hanging above his campfire. The water was already boiling, small chunks of meat breaching the surface as it bubbled. He hadn’t the ingredients to make a proper stew, but this would sate his hunger well enough regardless.

The snap of a stick startled him, his knife nearly slicing into flesh instead of the carrot in his hand.

He looked up, scanning the path for whatever beast had wandered too close to his fire. But instead of a beast, he spotted a traveler.

A Viera, no less, if the ears were anything to judge by.

“Hey there, stranger!” he called out as they got closer, setting his knife on the log he was sitting on before waving. The traveler perked up, walking a bit faster towards his little camp.

“Well, I hardly expected to find anyone out here,” they said as they got close enough to speak without yelling. Finally, Lucky could see them properly in the light of the setting sun. She almost certainly stood taller than him, the rather intimidating axe strapped to her back notwithstanding. She wore a long coat that reminded him of the Lominsan pirates he had run into way back when, and as she got closer he noticed the purple streaks in her long brown hair.

“I hardly expected to see another Viera this far west,” he remarked as he studied her. “Come, sit, I’m making stew if you’re hungry.” He picked up his knife again, bringing it to the carrot again before his new friend got any incorrect ideas about his intentions. “The name’s Lucky, by the way.”

“Constance,” she greeted, quickly locating a second log to drag over. “And I could say the same about you. What brings you out here?”

“Oh, you know. Treasure hunting, running from the authorities,” he laughed at his own half-jest. “Mostly treasure hunting.” Constance grinned, an almost knowing look on her face.

“My two favorite pastimes,” she said with a laugh.

“So, what’s your story? Headed to Idyllshire?” he asked as he moved on to chopping a popoto.

“Sort of. I was separated from a few of my friends during an incident a while back, I’ve been traveling around trying to find them.”

“What do these friends of yours look like? Might be that I’ve seen them,” he said, tilting his head a bit.

“There’s four of them. A Hyuran bloke with silver hair, a Hyuran woman with a mask, another Hyuran woman with long blonde hair, and a blond Lalafellin mage,” she described, looking at Lucky with hope in her eyes. He thought for a moment before shaking his head.

“Can’t say I’ve seen them, sorry,” he said, genuine regret in his voice.

“Ah, not your fault,” she said, though her eyes flicked to the stars as if they’d have an answer for her. He really wished he could help. Though, maybe he could…

“I’ll tell you what, Constance. It’s nearly dark out, and it’s quite the walk to Idyllshire still. The beasts that come out at night are nothing to sneeze at, though I’m sure you can handle yourself just fine,” he said, eyeing the axe still strapped to her back. “If you stay the night here, I’d be happy to introduce you to my friends in town and see if they can’t be of any more help.” Constance beamed, nodding her head.

“I’d like that very much.”

Chapter Text

Emet-Selch could turn a blind eye to many things. The many shenanigans that Azem and Hythlodaeus got up to, for example.

This, however, he could not ignore.

“Lahabrea,” he called out as the Convocation filed out of their meeting room. “Stay.”

Some other members of the Convocation turned at the sound of his voice. They surely had noticed something wrong with the man, but Emet-Selch was the only one to give a voice to his concerns.

Lahabrea appeared to ignore him.

“Lahabrea,” Igeyorhm repeated. Ah, right, Igeyorhm. She was close with the man, closer than Emet-Selch was. It only made sense that she would be concerned as well. Lahabrea let out a sigh, turning on his heel and walking back into the heart of the room. Igeyorhm followed behind, as if she were keeping him from escaping this conversation.

The rest of the Convocation slipped out the doors, Pashtarot closing them after he crossed the threshold.

“What is it?” Lahabrea asked, clearly agitated. “Can you not tell that I am busy?”

“What have you done, Lahabrea?” Emet-Selch asked.

“You have not been the same since you returned from Pandæmonium,” Igeyorhm added. Lahabrea growled, taking a step back to glare at them both in equal measure.

“You would never understand,” he replied simply. Two beats passed in silence, Igeyorhm and Emet-Selch stunned into silence. They were right. Something had happened, but Lahabrea did not seem keen on elaborating.

“What happened?” Igeyorhm asked, unending kindness in her voice. Kindness which sparked rage in Lahabrea’s masked eyes.

“I told you, you would not understand!” he yelled. Igeyorhm took a startled step backward, and Emet-Selch held out a hand in front of her protectively. Not that the Lahabrea he knew would do anything to harm her, but this was most certainly not the Lahabrea he knew.

“Please,” she said, desperately. “Let us help you.”

“I don’t need your help, or your pity,” he spat. “If there is nothing else, I will take my leave.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and exited the Convocation’s meeting room.

Emet-Selch lowered his hand. Igeyorhm took a shaky breath.

They had lost the battle of wills this time, but they would try again. They would wring the truth out of him somehow. They had to. For the sake of the star.

For the sake of their friend.

Chapter Text

The letter the Postmoogle delivered said that Estinien would return anon.

Aymeric had fully intended to stay up until he walked in, or, more likely, jumped through the window, but the day had been tiring, and he was not the young knight he used to be.

So he settled himself into bed, a light lit at his bedside and a book in his hands. He would stay awake reading for as long as his eyes would remain open, but he had the distinct feeling that he would not last long enough to see his partner’s return.

He was asleep within half a bell.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep for when he felt someone’s touch. Normally, waking up to the feeling of fingers running through his hair when he was home alone would send him flying for his sword. But he knew these fingers without even opening his eyes.

“You’re home,” he mumbled, leaning his head into the touch. The fingers stilled, just for a moment, before trailing down his face.

“Apologies for taking so long,” Estinien started.

“Come to bed,” Aymeric interrupted, finally opening his eyes. Estinien had been home for long enough to change out of his armor into something more comfortable pilfered from Aymeric’s wardrobe. The man looked down at him, startled slightly by being cut off, but slowly his expression melted into something fond.

A look reserved only for Aymeric.

“Of course,” he stated simply. He withdrew his fingers, seeming almost reluctant, before making his way to his side of the bed. He slipped under the covers, letting out a grunt as his body hit the mattress.

Aymeric wasted no time in laying himself halfway over Estinien’s chest, sighing contentedly as the man wrapped his arms around him. He could hear his heart beating steadily, a reminder that he was truly there with him.

Estinien pressed a kiss to the top of Aymeric’s head, and he sleepily remembered that he had not kissed the man properly upon his return. So he raised himself up, laying a kiss upon his lips before returning to his previous position. Estinien let out a low laugh, bringing his hand back to Aymeric’s hair.

Within another quarter bell, the two men were asleep, snoring softly in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

Severian liked music.

Not the sort of music you’d find playing in a grand hall at a noble’s behest, no, that would take him too far from his work. He liked the casual, the mundane.

The bard that plucked the strings of his instrument as he walked by the door of the guild. The children that sang to themselves as they skipped down the streets. A sort of natural song, one not born of years of research into what notes went well together, but one born of spontaneity.

He liked to hum while he worked, as well.

Nothing loud, or grand. He carried no particular tune in mind and simply went with what came to him, a stark contrast to the carefully measured liquids and powders sitting out on his workstation.

His song began to take shape as he worked, each ingredient lending a new sound to his secondary creation. A higher note as it bubbled, a lower one as it fell flat. Carrying the tune in time with how he swirled the solution, as if the liquid were dancing along with him.

His song and the concoction grew and changed with each other as Severian worked, each depending on the other. The physical creation helped him give the music form, while the notes rising from his throat helped Severian time the steps of his alchemy.

Finally, he set the flask down, his song and dance finished. The melody lost to time as if it itself were an ingredient, mixed into the solution until it was indiscernible from any other part.

A new tune began as Severian began measuring his next set of liquids.