Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

It’s dark, not pitch black, but dark enough to make everything within Cotton’s limited field of vision foggy with shadows.

Drip.

Drip.

Everything feels so cold. The parts of her limbs that still have feeling in them tingle, entertaining the idea of frost bite. This combined with the increasing amount of blood leaving her body left no inch for the recovery of warmth.

Drip.

What remained of her consciousness was just as foggy as the dancing shadows surrounding her motionless body. A blur of bright white moved with intent about the space surrounding her. Something about the blur invoked feelings of both familiarity, and dread as cold as the ice and frost slowly taking dominion of her body. She could make out the low and even tone of the figure’s voice, but not what it was saying, or even if it was speaking to her. Then she felt it, the unmistakable feeling of being cut. Slow and purposeful shapes carved out with disciplined practiced hands. She was so cold the dulled down pain alarmed her just as much as the experience itself. She didn’t have the strength to do much more than twitch at the knife’s jagged intrusion upon her flesh.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

But soon a new sound joined in the nightmare, a sweeter soft singing drowning out all else. A melancholic song sung in a voice she wasn’t wholly unfamiliar with.

Hear.

Feel.

Think.

With a sharp gasp of slightly salty stale air, Cotton snaped awake. Quickly looking around to get her bearings as she clutched her abdomen in panic. However the moment she made eye contact with G’raha Tia, she knew she was safe. Memories flooding back to her as she realized where she was and what she was doing there. The gentle sway of the ship as they sailed on to Old Sharlayan offering some comfort from the nightmare. She let out a sign of relief, the sight of the still sleeping faces of the twins giving her even more peace. Everything was ok. G’raha’s eyes told that he could see her discomfort. He looked her over, noting her arm still wraped around herself.

“The day has barely dawned my fellow early riser. Is there aught amiss?”

“No no nothing’s wrong, just a bad dream is all.”

He gave her another once over but seemed to accept her words at face value. The sound of all the “fellow early risers” in the lower deck around them becoming more apparent as her panic fully subsided.

“Well in any case, I’d daresay the sea air will do you good. Why not join the others on deck? Sharlayan should be coming into view at any moment.”

Chapter Text

The dream always started the same way. Cotton and Haurchefant sprinting after the Archbishop before he could board his airship to escape. When Cotton’s echo forces her to make note something off behind them both. But of course, she ignored it, of course she stayed the course pursuing her target, of course she’d once again be the only one to blame for her sleepless nights.

“Look out!”

Cotton had turned far too late to do anything about the oncoming spear on her own. So Haurchefant did, sprinting to place himself between her and the oncoming attack. There was a loud and hard CLANG like a bell cursing in protest of being struck. The air around the two stirred while the bright light spear did it’s best to blind them as well as pierce. Cotton was only able to watch as Haurchefant’s shield first held, then cracked. The man himself, to his credit, doubled down and pushed harder against the spear, but much like all good stability in Cotton’s life, this did not last. All she could do was watch. The spear pushed on right through Haurchefant’s shield.

Right through Haurchefant.

Everything moved in a deafening slow motion then. Where there had once been blood running through her veins, there was now only ice. She saw his blood spray in every direction, saw his body sway unnatural and uncoordinated as the light spear protruding from his body faded away. She could only stumble forward just in time to catch him. Her panic just kept rising as she saw the expression on his face once she laid him down, the pian and shock running through him. Nothing mattered in that moment anymore. There was no one else but herself and her lover, her Haurchefant. Everything else, everyone else faded away into nothingness as her vision narrowed.

She had something of a reputation for being a silent hero as so many had said to her throughout her time in Eorzea, but not in that moment. Holding the last person in her life that still allowed her to feel some state of stability, of unconditional love, of a real and genuine sense of safety, she didn’t just allow herself to cry, she begged. She begged and pleaded with whatever and whoever would hear her cries for him to be ok, just be ok, everything is ok, you’re going to be ok I promise, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS. Her words were as soft as the whisper of her movements while she unsteadily worked. Flitting up and down his body with uncertainty as she both tried to heal his wounds and caress his face, both for his comfort and her own.

“Baby- baby please speak to me- please don’t do this- please no- please hun look at me!”

Then he did, weakly and with the help of a still wounded Aymeric, Haurchefant lifted his head to face Cotton. She didn’t even know when Aymeric had gotten there, she didn’t care.

“You…you are unharmed? F-forgive me… I could not bear the thought of…of…”

“Hush baby it’s going to be ok, you’re ok- you’re going to be ok!”

Haurchefant slowly lifted his hand to hold his palm against Cotton’s cheek. He spoke over her frantic rambling and pleading, his voice weak but still so dam full of love. His thumb casually wiping away the tears as they fell from Cotton’s eyes.

“No- no you’re going to be ok-“

“Cotton…”

“I’ve got you- please just hold on honey-“

“Cotton. Please…”

“Just hold on it’s goi-“

“Love please l-look at me…”

So, she did, she stopped what she was doing to look down at her love for what would be the last time, his pale eyes still so full of that love and joy she always seemed to crave when they were apart. She placed her hand on the back of his own and allowed him to pull her face to his.

“Please… A smile better suits… a hero…”

She cried as he kissed her. They’d kissed plenty of times before, but now none of them felt like enough. Now she wished she’d taken every opportunity she ever had to just kiss his cheek, his hand, if only just to have had one more, now the ones she did have would never be enough. When his body went limp she began to hyperventilate. His hand fell from her face as she placed hers on his cheek, gently tapping him as if she could snap him out of it.

“Hun…?”

Silence.

“Baby please…”

Her eyes were so full of tears by now she couldn’t see. She wanted to scream, but instead all she could do was cradle his limp head and shoulders while she began to weep. She rocked him and held him to her chest as if she could still keep him safe. She curled in on herself, falling apart more and more with each sob, muttering softly as if he could still hear her.

“Please…Please…”

She could feel a hand on her back, Aymeric was trying to speak to her, but the words weren’t landing. Everything he, Estinien, or Lucia tried to say or do didn’t matter. She isn’t sure when she’d been picked up, but at some point, she was trying and failing to contain her sobs against a shoulder. Aymeric carrying Cotton, while Estinien carried Haurchefant. He didn’t try to speak to her, just let her crumble, just let her fall apart while he held her.

Cotton woke up then. Her Ishgard apartment still dark except for the dim light of early morning peeking in through a frosted window. Her face was cold and wet from the tears she’d shed in her sleep. Her head was pounding, everything she drank last night making sure she knew she fucked up. She turned away from the offending window and cried. It’d been so long since the Vault. But she still found herself getting wasted now and then and just allowing herself to fall apart. These days she had so many more reasons to have these self-indulgent drunken nights. But for some reason no matter how much she cried over him specifically it was never enough to get the grief out, she always found more tears with the thought of him. These drunken stupors were a rare occurrence for her. Normally Cotton wouldn’t have time for such selfish things. At some point after they had broken the news to Haurchefamt’s father, Alphinaud and Aymeric had approached her, worried about her extremely abrupt turn from inconsolable grief to moving on to the next task. At first she tried to shrug them off, but at they’re insistence she explained. 

“There is a time and place for everything. If I allow myself to stop right now I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back up again.”

And for a mercy they left it at that. She saw their concerned looks from the corner of her eye from time to time, but they never brought it up again, and for that she was exceedingly grateful. 

Chapter Text

Come what may, we will never cease to believe. Upon the souls of they who have sacrificed themselves to pave the way for peace, we will never abandon our cause.

Cotton threw her head back, downing the rest of her drink. She slammed the wooden mug down against the bar, another refill already being passed to her. She hadn’t been able to get Aymeric’s words out of her head from earlier that day. Gibrillont tried not to show the concern he felt too openly on his face. He’d seen the warrior of light in the Forgotten Knight more and more these days. Along with a concerning number of new patrons who’d file in as well. More highborn men than he’d ever seen in here before had been coming in when it had gotten out that she’d come for a drink at least once a week. He had no doubt that she could handle herself, but she was alarmingly small for the amount of alcohol she was downing, and yet another young lord was offering to buy her one more round. They’d try to talk to her, to flirt, some offered gifts to her in her inebriated state, but for the most part it was like they weren’t even there. She’d politely refuse them, sometimes she’d even flirt back, but most nights she’d just sit there quietly sipping alone with a somber look on her face.

“Surely you’d prefer some fine wine over this backwater drivel my lady, I have a generous private selection at my manor.”

“Oh?”

Gibrillont took a small piece of paper and quickly wrote a note. He leaned over to Bamponcet and placed the paper into his hand, speaking in a hushed tone.

“Get this to the Lord Commander with all hast.”

“But shouldn’t I be here to take customers for the inn?”

“I’ll take care of it, please Bamponcet just go.”

When Gibrillont turned from his friend he saw his fears were already being realized. The warrior of light was practically being gently tugged out of her seat by the young lord. She was barely fighting back, was barely able to keep from falling over on her own. She outright fell out of her chair at the lads tugging and only kept from hitting the floor when he caught her in his arms. Gibrillont was cut off before he could speak out in protest, much to his relief, by the Au Ra man he often saw her spending time with. He strode up to the pair, his usual scowl, a tad more unsettling than it normally was.

“Do you often drag off drunk women who can’t refuse your company?”

Sidurgu’s voice was low and rumbling, his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed down the noble man who stood a few ilms shorter than himself. The later whom was holding Cotton tightly enough to his chest to keep her upright. The young noble didn’t flinch away from the taller man, just held his glare with a far more pompous one of his own. At this point Cotton was succumbing to post drink drowsiness, her head lolling onto the noble man’s chest, the palms of her hands placed flat to his pectorals as she leaned against him. This of course only inflated his ego.

“It seems to me she’s enjoying my company quite a lot, aren’t you, my lady?”

Cotton didn’t respond with words, but she did give a frown as she halfheartedly pushed against him with her hands, but the lord ignored her shoving attempt and kept his grip firm. Sidurgu wasn’t an idiot however, he’d spent enough nights drinking together by this point to know how Cotton behaved when she was under the influence.

“We were just leaving anyhow, weren’t we lady Cotton?”

The noble man then put his finger under her chin, lifting her face up towards his as if to kiss her. Sidurgu reached behind his back to grab his sword, as two voices yelled out over each other.

“The hells you will!”

“Lord Antoine!”

Sidurgu and “Lord Antoine” both turned to the stairs to see the lord commander, Aymeric watching them with a very even expression on his face. The same face he must have held in all manner of unpleasant conversations while working diplomacy.  A notably uncomfortable inn keeper standing behind him. The color drained from the young noble mans face then, still holding the drunk woman in his arms, his overzealous confidence beginning to waver. Sidurgu releasing the hilt of his great sword took a small step back, he wasn’t keen on getting arrested tonight. The lord commander strode the rest of the way down the stairs, stopping just a little too close to the young lord. The young man cleared his throat, avoiding the urge to stammer in his nervousness to his credit.

“Lord commander! Lady Cotton and I were just leaving when we were accosted by this thug, but not to worry! I have the situation handled. Isn’t that right my lady?”

Cotton once more electing not to speak simply pushed against the man’s chest a second time.

“For fuck’s sake woman use your words!”

Sidurgu basically barked, fed up with her lack of initiative from someone who was supposed to be the champion of Eorzea, and it worked. With her voice a touch gravely due to lack of use, she finally said something.

“No.”

This caused the man holding her to being to internally panic. Her tired alcohol heavy arms still weakly pushing at him.

“What was that my lady?”

“No.”

This time it was Aymeric’s turn to speak up. He spoke clearly and with an air of authority but also seemed somewhat softer when speaking to her directly.

“No what, my friend?”

“Let go.”

Much to Sidurgu’s surprise, the rich ass hole did let her go then. However not to his surprise she just about immediately wavered, this time landing firmly into Aymeric’s arms.

“By the Furry my good lady if I had known you had been so adverse-“

“I shall see to it that lady Cotton makes it home safely, thank you, both of you.”

Sidurgu’s only response was an annoyed huff as he turned to walk back to his table, mumbling something about a “Gods dam drunken mess”. Aymeric looking to the young lord once more gave the same even faced expression from earlier.

“I trust we shall not have need to discuss this incident further.”

The lord Antoine could only barely keep his displeasure from showing on his face.

“Of course, lord commander…”

Leaving the bar, Aymeric had to practically carry Cotton down the street. It wasn’t the first time such a situation had happened, but it was by far the most awkward. It’s not like he didn’t mind helping his friend out of these situations, but it wasn’t without its repercussions. He was aware of the rumors that were beginning to spread about himself and his involvement with the warrior of light. First this woman, an outsider, comes out of nowhere, basically helps him stage a cue against the church, and now he is seen keeping her away from other men night after night as he practically carries her back to his home. Not to mention the rumors about her being some kind of dark knight heretic. By all accounts their current relationship didn’t look good from an outsider’s perspective. A small gasp drew Aymeric from his thoughts, Cotton had nearly tripped over the coble stone street. With a small sigh, he elected to just carry her the rest of the way. The tiny viera woman gave a small, mumbled protest before she settled against his chest, her tired eyes looking up at him with an air of melancholy. He tried not to think about the way she looked in the moonlight or how soft and warm she was against him as she just stared at him, a behavior due to her state he told himself.

“If I may ask, my friend, why is it you end up in these scenarios?”

For some reason she only continued to stare at him for a strange amount of time before she gave a response. Answering his question with one of her own.

“How do you do that?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Today. I killed your father. I rode into the city on the back of a dragon. You lost your friend, Estinien. You were nothing but polite… And what you said about always believing, never giving up on your cause…”

She shocked him when she turned her face into his chest while she spoke. He couldn’t feel the dampness of her eyes tearing up, but he could see it with what little light was available. She was speaking at just barely above a whisper at this point.

“How can you be so sure that all of this is so worth fighting for… Why are you so dedicated to people who hurt you?”

It took him a moment to realize he was holding her a little more tightly than he had been before. He started to think he didn’t care if there was anyone else on the street to see them. While he continued walking, he thought for a moment as to how he should answer her.

“Such a strange question for one such as you, my friend.”

He spoke softly, he could see that for whatever reason, this topic was greatly upsetting to her. He just hoped one day he might get to know the reason as to why, maybe then he could understand her self-destructive tendencies if he couldn’t stop them. Meanwhile, Cotton could only think of all the people she’d let down. Everyone from her home who had relied on her, who’d hurt or betrayed her. She’d once taken up an oath to protect them, to serve them till her dying day, but now? Now she wasn’t only a disgrace to her faith, but to the very people she’d abandoned.

Selfish whore.

“Is it not simply right to want to protect others? To protect those who may not be capable of protecting themselves, to uphold Justice?...”

By now they had reached his home. The first time this sort of thing had happened she had asked to stay with him rather than at Fortemps manor out of embarrassment for her drunken state. So now even though he could count each time on both hands, he’d always carried her to his guest room to rest for the night. Champion of Eorzea or no, he could still see the ways in which she was still just a mortal woman with her own problems and insecurities. Most of the staff had already gone home for the night, so he felt a bit more at ease carrying her though the halls, now away from judging eyes and gossiping lips. He stopped once they had reached her doorway and placed her down, holding her shoulders when she swayed some. She seemed almost reluctant to leave his grasp as she surprised him one last time that night by giving him a hug and placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you Aymeric. For everything.”

Aymeric’s eyes were wide has put a hand to his cheek where she’d kissed him.

“I-w-what- why did you...?”

She’d never heard him stammer before, she couldn’t help but think it was pretty cute.

“Like I said, just for everything.”

Ever the graceful man he was, he got himself to stop gawking enough to stand up straight and clear his throat. Though he was now actively trying not to smile like he had been the one drinking. Why did that make him so happy? It was only his cheek why was he acting like a schoolboy? But she was very beautiful- but she was just his friend!- As well as the warrior of light-

“Aymeric?”

“Ah, forgive me my dear friend.”

He gave her a courteous bow.

 “I bid you a goodnight.”

He knew it was just the alcohol that was making her cheeks pink, but he found himself wishing she’d blush for him instead. Furry where was all this coming from out of the blue? He’d been there when this woman lost her lover for gods sake why was he thinking of her this way?

“Good night Aymeric.”

Chapter Text

“Lord Commander your wounds!”

Cotton couldn’t agree with Lucia more. She’d come to understand Aymeric to be a workaholic, but he’d been stabbed how long ago? He should still be recovering, not working.

“Are healing well thank you.”

Cotton Shared a worried, doubtful look with Lucia as Aymeric continued.

“Time is of the essence. Lest we forget these men would sooner put their own city to the torch than see it change. When our enemies learn that we have apprehended their arsonist there is no telling how they will react.”

Cotton didn’t want to tell him he was wrong by any means, but still wanted to insist that everyone else had the situation handled. But of course, life couldn’t possibly be as merciful as that could it? Because before she could protest him being out of bed, a temple knight came barreling in thought the door, exclaiming that an armed mob of men had taken control of the vault, and with hostages to boot.

“And now we know. Tell us what happened ser, spare no detail!”

The shaken knight near breathlessly explained everything he had witnessed. Armed men had rushed in, taking the refugees hostage, and barricaded themselves inside the Vault. The men calling themselves the “True Brothers of The Faith” demanded there be a new Archbishop… And that Aymeric was guilty of patricide and treason, and must turn himself over at once to receive the Fury’s judgment, in other words, death. Once more, Lucia beat Cotton to it when she spoke up.

“Ridiculous! Do they honestly think that executing Ser Aymeric will change anything? That the truth will somehow die with him?”

Cotton crossed her arms and scowled to herself. Some things never change no matter where you are. There was nothing wrong with religion, but when these insane people made it their entire identity, they seemed more than happy to commit all kinds of evil deeds, and for what? Was there really any god out there that would ever condone such actions in their name?

“These fundamentalists rage against the passing of the old ways, unable to accept there can be no going back.” 

Artoirel broke her train of thought by nearly saying exactly what she was thinking, and she felt a bit happier to be able to call these people her friends. Lord Edmont also chimed in.

“Given the fanciful nature of their demands a peaceful resolution does not seem likely. If the hostages are to be rescued it will be by force, I fear.”

God damit. Of course, the most wounded among them, Aymeric himself saw things the same way. Cotton truly did admire how he was still so steadfast and dedicated to protecting his people despite everything else. She could see that he wasn’t going to be left out of the fight for this one, so she made up her mind to just be extra attentive of his condition. She wasn’t going to be losing anyone else anytime soon, not if she could help it.

“Ser Simeonarad! Lay down your arms and release the hostages and you will be shown mercy I give you my word!”

It was just Aymeric, Artoirel, and Cotton now. The others had elected to stay further back to hold off more of the men who’d taken over the Vault. Now it was just a matter of either who surrendered first, or who’d be the last one standing. Now the remaining three were face to face with what seemed to be at least one of the leaders of this whole operation.

“Hah! The word of a heretic and kinslayer! I would sooner trust a dragon! Activate the knights, we shall show the hostages the same mercy he showed the Archbishop!”

Gods damit, those stupid mechanical knights are so annoying!

“Unlike you Ser Aymeric, I am a man of honor! By my hand you shall receive of the fury’s judgment!”

“So, it is to be a trial then. Lord Artoirel, Cotton, leave us and save the hostages, I will deal with Ser Simeonard!”

Cotton didn’t argue with him, though she wanted to. She had been a soldier her whole life, and knew in that moment she needed to follow orders, not question him and complicate things. However, with each hostage she untied, each knight she cut down she couldn’t help but worry. There was no point in protesting and revealing to their enemy that her friend was wounded, and the sooner she freed everyone the sooner she could help him. Protect him.

“Traitor! Kinslayer! By what sorcery do you still stand! Enough! All of you attack!”

Cotton could hear the Knight that challenged Aymeric yelling as she untied the last hostage’s wrist.

“Damit-Damit-DAMIT!”

Cotton took off at a dead sprint up the stairs. Normally she’d pick what weapon and fighting style to use based on the situation and today was no different. Knowing that her good friend was going into a life or death situation while wounded, she decided it might be best to bring her great sword. And of course, using the way of the Dark Knight meant she needed to use her emotions to fuel her attacks, the darker the better. So when she made it to the top of the stairs and saw Aymeric stumble just a little too much for her comfort she practically roared. She leapt over him and landed on top of one of the opposing knights, skewering him through.

“Well done! Now let us finish this Ser- before the eyes of gods and men!”

When they had managed to slay the knights, they were then faced with yet another new horror.

“Where is he? Where is he!?”

Upon defeating the last of their enemies, the three found a small boy at the very top of the stairs. The poor little boy was bawling hysterically, it was a miracle they could understand him through his sobs as he told them of the priest who had snatched his friend to use as a shield. They raced through the halls of the Vault, only to find the mad old bastard holding the little girl by the throat over the edge of the building.

“Come no closer!”

This insane monster was really about to just off a child and he still thought he was right to do so!? Cotton moved to draw her sword, but Aymeric held out his hand to stop her.

“You have nowhere to run, release the girl and surrender!”

“Surrender to whom!? The blasphemer who throws wide the gates to our enemy! Who breaks bread with him and calls him brother! The Ungodly kinslayer who brings in a whore outsider to butcher and bloody his foes when he’s not bedding her! I would sooner die then surrender to you!”

Cotton had seen Aymeric angry before, but now he seemed livid, desperate.

“Is it godly to spill the blood of an innocent child!? To burn the homes of your brothers!? Tell me priest IS THAT GODLY!?”

But the old bastard was hearing none of it, still ranting and raving as he threw the poor little girl off the edge.

“You monster!”

No one could have stopped her if they tried at that point, she couldn’t control herself anymore. Cotton practically ripped the old mans arm off. Lunging at him she grabbed his wrist and threw him to the ground with enough force to crack the stone under his body, drops of blood flying out of his mouth! A loud noise, somewhere between a pop and a crack signaling his now broken shoulder.

“Cotton!”

Aymeric called out to her, seeing the child rescued from her fall by Vidofnir, there was no further need for bloodshed. But the Dark Knight was seeing red, losing control of herself to the darkness. Memories with all their accompanying emotions trickling in one after the other.

You fucking failure.

She broke the man’s nose.

You let another child die.

She busted his lip.

You let Haurchefant die here too.

She reached for her sword.

What would your husband say if he saw you now?

She swung down, hard.

Selfish whore.

“COTTON!”

When she snaped out of it her eyes were full of angry tears. She blinked them away to see Aymeric pressing his shield against her sword.

“W-what d-did… What did I-I do?”

The Priest lay on the ground behind Aymeric, whimpering and bleeding profusely but still alive. Lord Artoirel, already tending to the old man.

“Cotton?...”

Aymeric slowly lowered his shield to the ground and put up his hands as if to soothe a rampaging Chocobo. Seeing the open fear and confusion on Aymeric’s face, the old man’s wounds… She dropped her sword, letting it clatter loudly onto the stone floor.

“I-I didn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

Now her eyes filled with tears for entirely different reasons.

“My friend please…”

Aymeric was trying his best to get through to her, to soothe her, to do something to get her to snap out of it. But what if it had been him. What if she’d hurt Artoriel or Aymeric in her blind rage. How typical. She was fucking up again and it would cost her the lives of her loved ones, again.

“Cotton.”

What snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts were a pair of hands on her shoulders. Aymeric as holding her steady and looking her in the eyes, searching for some sign that she was back with them. When she put her hands over her mouth and her shoulders began to shake, that was all the sign he needed. He put one hand on the back of her head, the other around her shoulder and pulled her to him. He tried to shush her, to tell her the child was alright, she was saved from her fall, and his friend did nod, but it seemed that was the most she could do in the way of communication for the time being. She cried almost silently, if it weren’t for the stutters in her breath, one would be hard pressed to tell without seeing the tears falling from her face. Neither were certain how long they stayed like that, however it couldn’t have been long, although Artoriel and the priest where gone. A trail of blood leading back the way they’d come from. Aymeric broke the silence, all be it tentatively.

“What…What was that? You were… Gone.”

Cotton tried to speak, to give an answer, but found it was too difficult. She wanted to talk, to explain herself, but it was all too overwhelming to think about let alone put it into words. For a mercy, Aymeric seemed to understand on some level that she was unable to bring herself to speak, it wasn’t the first time he’d seen her have a hard time communicating in this way. Instead, he surprised them both when on impulse, he put his lips to her forehead. He didn’t kiss her, just held her there. His voice a gentle whisper.

“Tis alright. You need not speak now…I shall be here whenever you need, my friend.”

Chapter Text

It had only been about two days after the incident with the priest and the “true brothers of the faith.” Aymeric had sent for Cotton to discuss something he’d been planning since Vidofnir had her perfectly timed rescues of the little girl.

“The gods themselves could not have devised a more fitting symbol of hope!”

He’d said, and he was right.

“We could scarce let such an opportunity pass us by, which is why I set about making formal arrangements for a peace conference between our peoples.”

Ever with his eyes on the prize, only he’d ever look at something like the near death of an innocent child and find a way to turn it around for the betterment of his people. It made Cotton wonder if she’d ever be able to express how impressive she found that ability of his to be, his seemingly unwavering ability to just keep going and keep serving.

“You and yours have done more to bring us together than any, and it is only right that you attend.”

Cotton didn’t feel like she’d really done all that much, especially when compared to people like Aymeric or Estinien, but she wasn’t about to argue.

“But I confess that is not the only reason I would be glad to have you there.”

“Oh?”

“You see, Given Nidhogg’s implacable opposition to the peace it is possible that he and his fallowers may attempt to disrupt proceedings, in which event your presence would be a comfort to all in attendance.”

Ah. That would be a perfect time for an attack, wouldn’t it?

“Pray understand I have no wish to invite the wyrm’s ire, but if our fractured nation is to heal- if we are to move forward as a people united- then we must do whatever is necessary to bring about lasting change!”

Seeing how passionate he got just talking about it all got a smile out of Cotton, but it wavered the same moment he did. While just standing there Aymeric stumbled a bit.

“A-americ!?”

Afraid he might fall, Cotton rushed to the other side of his desk, her arms ready to catch him if it came to that. But he simply put a hand to his face and shook it off like he wasn’t still recovering from an assassination attempt while working day and night.

“Tis nothing- tis nothing.”

“You don’t sound very convincing.”

“Lucia cautioned me against giving vent to my passions lest my wounds reopen.”

Cotton tried not to let all of her concern show so readily on her face, however her brows did furrow.

“Truly tis fine, my friend.”

“Will you at least let me make sure you haven’t reopened anything then? You do more than enough for me, let me help you for a change…Please.”

“…”

He just looked her in the eyes for a breath, then shook his head with a small sigh.

“I am not opposed to your assistance, however I’d hardly consider my office an appropriate place to hold a medical consultation.”

“It’s already late in the evening, can’t we just head back to you’re place? Either way you’re not leaving my sight till I confirm you won’t bleed out overnight.”

Taking a look at the chronometer on the wall he couldn’t really disagree, it was well passed when he told Lucia he’d be there, and after she made him swear to take better care of himself no less. He gave another sigh, this one deeper.

“Alright. Let us be about it then.”

The two of them once again walking down the streets of Ishgard together garnered some whispers and turned heads, even though this time they were both notably sober. The older gentleman that greeted them both at Aymerics front door seemed almost giddy when he welcomed them both.

“My lord, I did not realize you were expecting lady Cotton’s company tonight! Shall I prepare some drinks?”

It was likely due to his current state of recovery, but Cotton couldn’t help but notice Aymerics face was looking a touch flushed.

“Thank you, but that will not be necessary. Tis to be but a brief visit.”

The older gentleman almost seemed disappointed at that. Weird.

“I see, well as always please don’t hesitate to call upon me if the two of you need anything my lord.”

As Aymeric ushered Cotton inside he tried not to let his man servant’s knowing smile get a rise out of him. There was nothing to be so cheeky over anyway, this was normal, this was two friends having a quick visit! Just a quicki- NO why are his thoughts going in that direction!

“Aymeric are you sure you’re feeling alright?... Are you sweating?”

Was he? He hadn’t even noticed, but sure enough putting his hand to his forehead he could feel it.

“Twould appear I am, yes.”

“And you’re looking kind of red? Gods, ok we need to get that amour off of you.”

Aymeric almost choked.

“I- I beg your pardon?”

“Your armor? If your stitches did reopen I can’t sew it through your cloths can I?”

He stumbled once more then, this time Cotton did take it upon herself to put an arm around his back to steady him.

“Can you make it to the bedroom?”

If she kept doing this to him, he was sure he wouldn’t make it to tomorrow let alone to bed.

“Yes- yes I am alright.”

Finally getting to his personal bedchamber, the woman practically began undressing him herself, no wonder there were rumors about them he thought. What is anyone supposed to think when she was always so blasé in her treatment of him. Here she was practically undressing him, and she didn’t seem to realize at all how this would appear to others, or how it would make him feel. There were moments like these where he could see pink on her cheeks, but she never let on if she felt anything like what he was feeling in these moments.

“…You are bleeding a tad it seems. But it looks like the stitches are holding.”

For Furie’s sake she was speaking while she unbuttoned his thin cotton shirt. This woman was truly intent on stripping him down to be half naked and seemed to either not notice or not care that it was causing his very heart to pulse loud enough for the neighbors to hear. He could see the pink of her cheeks despite her gaze staying locked on her hands as they worked, but should he be the one to acknowledge this behavior or should he stay just as silent on the topic as she? When she had managed to open up the front of his shirt fully, she had finally stopped working. Her hands stilled and to his confusion she simply frowned and stared at his now exposed chest. He swallowed with a dry throat before speaking up.

“Is there aught amiss?”

Blinking away whatever her train of thought was she still avoided his gaze, instead eyeing  his varying wounds with intense scrutiny.

“No- no, it's just... I hadn’t realized how badly you were injured…”

He nearly jumped out of his skin when one of her hands went to caress his bruised and battered torso. Her slender fingers maliciously and gently fluttered over old scares and healing patches of purple and blue from his time as a prisoner in the Vault, as well as the recent siege to save the hostages.

“I’ll need to rebandage this… Sorry if this hurts.”

Very gingerly she began to undo the old blood stained gauze wrapped around his abdomen, while the poor man tried desperately to ignore how much he was enjoying her closeness. For a mercy she managed to get it off with only a wince or two on his part. The stitches keeping his stab wound closed had indeed been holding up well enough, but the wound definitely needed to be cleaned.

“I assume the chirurgeons gave you a means to take care of this?”

“Yes, there should be supplies over on the dresser.”

Neither of them spoke as she retrieved the supplies. She uncorked a bottle of disinfectant and applied it to a small cloth. Seeing her tending to him now it was hard to imagine this was the same woman that would tear fully armed men and woman to tatters on the battlefield. Feeling her arms around him, even temporarily as she applied the new clean gauze wrap, he tried very hard not to think about when he held her in the vault. He tried, and was failing not to let his mind wonder to how it might have felt if he had been able to kiss away her tears as she cried. How it would feel if she could stay the entire night in his arms like that.

“There. That should do it.”

Oh. When had she finished? Had he been that lost in his little daydream? It could well have been his own hopes getting the better of him, but she seemed to hesitate a moment before deciding to leave.

“I’ll get out of your hair so you can rest properly. Please try to take better care of those stiches Aymeric.”

“Ah, before you leave, there is one last thing I would like to mention.”

For the first time since entering the room that night she finally made eye contact with him. God’s her eyes were beautif- Focus man!

“Before I forget to tell you, the conference will take place on the border of Ishgardian and Dravanian territory, in Falcon’s nest.”

Cotton held his gaze as Aymeric spoke, but she was having a hard time really retaining his words. She had Just lost Haurchefant. Yet here she was, lusting after one of his closest friends.

Selfish whore.

“- Twould not do for the guest of honor to arrive late after all.”

She didn’t verbally reply, simply nodded. As she was turning to leave, he grabbed her hand, causing her to stop and face him again, her surprise on open display.

“Oh and one more thing!-“

He hadn’t moved from where he’d been sitting this entire time, but only now that she was looking at him did they both seem to quietly acknowledge how much taller he was than her even while sitting down. While Aymeric thought to himself how much he liked that, Cotton tried not to be hurt by how much it made her think of Haurchefant.

“A drink, we should make time for one. Once the conference in concluded I mean. By my reckoning tis long overdue.”

At that she couldn’t hold back from how noticeable her hesitation was. But no he was right wasn’t he? They’re just friends, even if Cotton couldn’t help but have impulsive thoughts and slutty desires for her late lover’s dear friend, what’s wrong with a drink? Maybe with time she could start to feel normal again.

“…I think I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

When first they arrived at the Churning Mists The skies were fair. Alphinaud, Aymeric, and Cotton had only just stepped out of the cave path that connected the Forlands from the mass of floating islands. Cotton had been planning out their route to Zenith where they would once again attempt to beseech the aid of Hraesvelgr. The trip itself shouldn’t take more than a day’s travel there and back, though she did pack for an overnight trip just in case. She was putting her map back into her pocket when she noticed there was a notably missing Aymeric from their party of three.

“Alphinaud, did you see where Aymeric went?”

The teen in question was speaking with a little moogle.

“I believe he’s only walked a bit further up the path.”

“I’ll go catch up with him, don’t take too long please.”

It had been long enough that Cotton wasn’t worried his wounds could be hindering him, but he’d also never been here before, so it’d be in everyone’s best interest for the Lord Commander to avoid getting lost. When she found him he was just standing near the edge of the rocky island, looking up at the sky. She didn’t announce her presence but as he began to speak it was clear he knew it was her.

“I had heard tales of the world above the clouds, but never did I dream… One’s mind paints a pale picture of its majesty.”

“It is pretty isn’t it…”

They stood in silence for a short while simply enjoying the view. Little leaves and flower petals occasionally being wafted along on the ever present wind, almost like some kind of unseen tide. Cotton wouldn’t call the trees out here “beautiful”, but it was fun to see the way they danced along with the rest of the sparce plant life. The silence was finally broken by a powerful crack of thunder somewhere off in the distance.

“Ah, we might see some umbral static if we’re lucky.”

Aymeric didn’t respond verbally but instead took a page out of her book by simply nodding. Cotton chuckled just a bit at that, getting a small smile out of the man when he realized the irony. The sound of footsteps drew both of their attention however when Alphinaud rejoined them, his conversation with Moghon concluded.

“We had best press on to Zenith while the winds are in our favor.”

First there was only a pleasant light dusting of mist. Then as the umbral static began to form, the rain began to pick up in earnest. Thankfully they’d already spoken with Hraesvelgr and succeeded in convincing him to come to their aid. Now their celebratory triad was searching for a spot to escape the storm, their clothes not yet soaked, but with any available firewood already getting wet, they needed to be quick. Though not likely to result in hypothermia, the combination of the ever present wind and the increasing strength of the rain could prove to be an issue. Taking shelter in some of the ruins scattered around Asah, they were able to gather some wood from the scattered broken furniture and other such forgotten fixtures to build a decent sized fire. Seeing Alphinaud with a tired little smile and air of pride for having helped to set up their makeshift camp warmed Cotton’s heart. She could see how tired the young teen was after their trial. Running though Sohr Khai, there had even been a moment where the young man had put his hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath, even Aymeric had begun to pant.

“The air is rather thin this high up.”

He’d said.

“It is not a race, so let us pace ourselves.”

Replied poor Alphinaud.

The memory brought a smile to Cotton’s lips as she passed out bed rolls.

Aymeric was standing near the large wooden door separating them from the storm and the gradually warming ruin interior, and looking out into the growing storm.

“Sorry I don’t have much in the way of food, I hope dried meats and fruits will suffice for you two, there’s also water in the pouch over there.”

While Alphinaud happily began to dig into what food was available, Aymeric was seemingly glued to his spot at the door. After laying out her own bedroll Cotton decided to go see what he was so fixated on. Much to her amusement he jumped a little when she spoke, evidently not noticing that she had joined his side.

“Still have some adrenaline flowing?”

“Aye…”

He didn’t even spare her a glance, just lost in the beauty of the storm outside.

“Told you it was pretty. If you don’t mind getting drenched, we could always go look around some.”

“Perhaps, but would that not be unwise?”

“Well yeah, but when are you going to get another chance like this, ya know?”

“I see your point…”

Cotton turned to her bedroll and began to take off her boots and socks. Aymeric and Alphinaud both gave her a puzzled look, so she explained.

“If we’re going out in that I want to come back to some dry socks and shoes to sleep in.”

“Surely we won’t be here the whole night, will we?”

Alphinaud had asked between handfuls of dried mango.

“We’ll see, but it doesn’t look like the storm is going to slow down, and I’d rather no one slip and fall off a cliff in the dark.”

Putting her shoes and socks on her bedroll she turned to Alphinaud.

“Will you be alright by yourself for a little bit?”

Almost embarrassed, the poor kid protested.

“I understand you don’t consider myself and Alisaie to be grown, but I’ll have you know that we are of age in our homeland of Sharlayan.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry I’m not trying to belittle you.”

Now barefoot, she went back over to the door, where she saw Aymeric trying not to make his amusement too obvious to the younger man. How sweet of him. Much to their luck the rain, though not subsiding, did refrain from growing stronger, now only maintaining a light jog of consistency. Cotton let Aymeric lead the way he wanted to go. She could come back most any time she was free, but she knew this was likely a very rare occurrence for him, to go wherever and do whatever. While walking Cotton got lost in thought reflecting on everything they’d done before the sun had set. She’d been genuinely surprised when Hraesvelgr had agreed to even test their strength to decide whether or not he’d help them. Seeing both Aymeric and Alphinaud pleading on behalf of Ishgard, she couldn’t help but feel proud of them. Seeing how Alphinaud had spied just the glimpse of hope needed to persuade the giant wyrm, or seeing Aymeric’s ever unwavering determination to protect and serve the people of his nation, she once again had to try and deny how awed that man could make her. When she bumped into his back, not having realized he’d stopped walking she only felt that much more flustered. The both of them speaking up at the same time.

“Oh I- “

“My apologies-“

A pause.

“I was just lost in-“

“I was just remembering-“

Another pause, and then they both chuckled between one another. This time with Aymeric speaking uninterrupted.

“My apologies, I had become rather lost in the memories of the day.”

“I was too to be honest.”

They’d stopped walking when they had reached the top of a set of long spiral stairs outside of some kind of stone tower. A perfect spot to look out and see not only the sky, but the landscape as a whole. The stone roof protecting them from the rain still afforded them an ample place to admire the winding of the blue rolling threads of lightning covering the sky.

“May I ask what it was you were thinking of?”

“I-uh-“

What was she supposed to say to that? Oh nothing I was just thinking about how good you looked when you were panting with stray hairs all tussled in Sohr Khai, and only the better part of a month after I lost Haurchefant! Why’s that- oh yeah because I’m a worthless little slut! Cotton had always thought Aymeric was handsome, but even when Haurchefant was still alive she could take a sort of comfort by telling herself that one, she was happily taken, and two she just couldn’t see a relationship between them working out. He was the Lord Commander, now the leader of a nation to boot, and she was an adventurer, how would that even work? If she just kept in mind that her words weren’t romantic, then maybe it’s fine to be honest? Besides he and Lucia definitely have something going on, right? Right?

“Well, I was thinking of what you and Alphinaud had said to Hraesvelgr. I’m not so great with words, so it just impressed me.”

A little taken back, Aymeric just let her speak without chiming in.

“I know I don’t usually speak my mind, but you always manage to impress me with stuff like that. You always seem so resolved to do what needs to be done, even when it means doing something as difficult as calling for your own father’s death or fuck even Estinian’s. I know we’re doing all we can to save him, at least for Alphinauds sake, but we still can’t guarantee that we can save him, and I guess I just. I’m just always so impressed by you, you keep continually succeeding in areas where I’ve failed so astronomically so I just… Aymeric?”

She hadn’t realized that for that little rant of hers Aymeric eyes had grown a touch wider with each admission. Her own eyes widened as she promptly shut her mouth and hoped he couldn’t see her cheeks becoming warmer in the dark. Gods his hair was all tussled again form the wind and rain. Had his eyes always been this blue? Damit women get a grip this isn’t some kind of lover’s midnight tryst! On the other end of this conversation, Aymeric’s mind was in a similar state of disarray. What was she talking about!? The Warrior of light had just said he was continually she had said, continually succeeding where she failed- what was she even talking about!? She was impressed!? He kept impressing the Champion of Eorzea!? The woman that helped to kill Nidhogg!?

“I… Beg your pardon my friend, I am, in no small measure overjoyed to receive such praise from one such as you, but whence did all of this come?”

“…When you say whence, do you mean when did I start to think this way or?...”

Oh-fuck-no-the-smile-that-got-out-of-him-was-adorable-Aymeric-please-stop! The man let out a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“Pray forgive me, I often forget that you are not always privy to Eorzean dialect. To answer your question, yes. May I ask when it was you began to think of me thus?”

“Ah well…”

Cotton turned away to face out towards the stormy sky, hoping that it would make it easier to speak.

“I guess it’s been a long while now? Just seeing how genuinely you care for others. You don’t just serve and protect the people because it’s your job, you always seem to feel so strongly about everything you fight for, no matter the cost or the consequences. The main reason I fight is just to keep the people I care about safe, or because they asked me to, but for you, I can tell you just genuinely care that much…”

“I... I see. But, my friend, what did you mean you have failed? You are the savior of Eorzea, the warrior who laid Nidhogg low, where have you possibly fail-“  

There was a sudden and blinding flash of lighting accompanied by a roar of deafening thunder, lightning having struck somewhere on the stone tower they were standing in. They were both startled to the point of staggering, Cotton far closer to the edge nearly falling off, if not for Aymeric reaching out and grabbing onto the back of her shirt. Aymeric also having been staggered, fell backwards, pulling Cotton down right on top of him.  Almost catlike, Cotton had flipped herself midfall and was able to keep Aymeric’s head from hitting the stone floor by cradling it, the back of her hand taking the hit instead. Filled with panic, Aymeric put his hand to Cotton’s face forcing her to look up at him from where her head was on his chest, looking her over as if she’d have any injuries.

“Are you al-“

He froze seeing and more importantly, feeling the weight of her on top of him. The clothes she wore weren’t all the revealing, but the way her legs were caging his hips, if he were not under her he’d likely have a full view of her panties in her songbird skirt. the press of her chest on his allowed for more of a view than he’d ever seen of her breast through the dampened thin mesh of her half robe of casting. Halone forgive him the indecent thoughts that were flooding his mind of this woman, this was his friend! The rumors of the two of them had to be getting to him. There had been rumors about her and Haurchefant’s involvement as well, but he’d always just written them off as just that, rumors. When he’d seen with his own eyes that there had indeed been some truth to them, he felt so much shame. The majority of the rumors weren’t that they were merely intimate with one another, but that they both had shared rather “unquenchable” amorous desires, or so he’d once herd. All the stories he’d heard of the Warrior of light being caught in some state of half dress around the man, or her whimpers of pleasure being heard in the wee hours of the night at Camp Dragonhead. He was ashamed at how much those stories had occupied his mind late into the night. He found himself both cursing his armor for being so think, and being grateful that it was so, so that his very much platonic friend couldn't feel his stiffening shame. So lost in his own world, he didn't realize that he was practically holding her down against himself.

“…Aymeric, can you please let me up?”

Cotton wanted to disappear, she wanted to go scream into her pillow at home, she wanted to slap herself for how turned on she was over this man who was very much not her Haurchefant. Yes, he was deceased, but didn’t that make it worse!? She just so recently lost him, but she was practically drooling over how warm Aymeric was. Gods have mercy she needed to get laid. She needed a good mindless fuck with some faceless no one and get this out of her system. Yeah, that’s all this was, it was a pure lustful infatuation with a man who just so happened to have a lot in common with her lost lover. That’s all this was. Aymeric sat up slowly, pulling them both to a sitting position. She tried not to think too hard on the way his eyes fluttered to her lips while she was briefly straddling his lap. She stood, adjusted her skirt and top, and gave him her hand to pull him up aswell. He tried desperately to deny the ache in his chest when he let go of her hand. 

“… we should be getting back, the storm is picking up again.”

Foggy images swam through Cotton’s field of vision. Swaths of colorful fabrics and frilly skirts looking a little too dull in hue to be the real thing, but her sleep addled mind didn’t seem to piece that together fully. It all felt so real, the feeling of Winter’s hands on her waist and hips as they danced, the sounds that her dreaming brain told her was music flowing seamlessly with their movements. It was odd for a Shetona woman to have to look up at a Shetona man, but that never seemed to bother him. She vaguely remembered this as being the dance they shared when he convinced her to marry him. Still just barely 16, she thought maybe he’d actually be able to help her, keep her family safe, give her an out from this nightmare, all she had to do was this one thing for him, right? He spun her out till both their arms were fully extended, and pulled her back in. Her back now to his chest, she could smell soothing rotten and pungent. When she looked up to see his face there was little she could do to quell the sudden flood of fear. His pale skin somehow had turned even paler, ashen even, his light grey eyes dark around the edges. He opened his mouth and shrieked as maggots fell from his lips, along with an ear splitting roar, not the sound a man makes, but that of a great wyrm.

When she shot up from her bedroll she was surprised she didn’t scream. The sound of the wyrm roaring in the distance hadn’t been a dream. Poor Alphinaud and Aymeric seem to have also been startled awake, the last embers of the fire still barley glowing from the night before. As the sound of the roar subsided a small Midgardsormr manifested in their small camp.

“The cry heraldeth his coming. Nidhogg’s shade hath taken wing.”

Apparently not needing even a second to wake up after hearing that, Aymeric was on his feet immediately, Cotton urging Alphinaud to just leave his bedroll behind, she’ll either buy new ones or come back another time, there were more important matters at hand.

“Ishard will not last long against Nidhogg and his horde, we must away, immediately!”

Chapter Text

Cotton quietly made her way down the stone streets of Ishgard. She didn’t have many options in the way of clothing, but she felt she had managed to put together a nice enough ensemble for her visit with Aymeric. However, her choice of songbird skirt and a type 53 half-robe of casting was making her wish she had come up with an outfit that better shielded her from the cold.

“Greetings and well met, Mistress Cotton.”

Oh, the cold had been so distracting that she hadn’t even noticed she’d arrived at Aymeric’s place already.

“I have the honor and the privilege to serve as head steward of House Borel though, admittedly, our staff is somewhat smaller than those of other noble families…being countable on one hand.”

Um. Ok? Cotton tried not to look as disinterested as she felt at the random declaration. Maybe the poor guy just felt nervous and started rambling?

“Ahem! My lord will be overjoyed to hear that you have accepted his invitation. As you will soon see, we have spared no expense.”

Oh?

“I daresay a woman of action such as yourself enjoys nary a moment’s respite. Aye, the battlefield beckons even now, I am sure, but for this day, we bid you lay down your burdens and raise a glass to peace and prosperity.”

Cotton’s only reply was a somewhat curt nod, as she gave what she hoped was a good enough smile. She didn’t really mean to be rude, but she was just very irritable these days. The assault on the Vault had only been a number of weeks ago, and she hadn’t taken much time if any to actually morn the loss of her love. She’d been able to take what time she could at night to simply cry, but it never felt like enough. She didn’t really know what she needed to feel better, but whatever it was she wasn’t finding it. She and Haurchefant had kept their relationship private up until the point when she lost him. All pretense in that moment didn’t matter anymore. After losing him it was hard to feel like anything mattered, or that anything was worth doing, it was as if a piece of her died with him. Cotton was doing her best just to keep herself buried in work to keep from allowing all her despair from seeping in and slowing her down. But now that the Dragon song war was officially over that was becoming more difficult. Maybe this could give her some relief though, maybe now she could really take some time to get well and drunk and just scream, just cry and rage. Or in tonight’s case, maybe a peaceful night in with a friend is a step in the right direction.

“To think the Moogles would prove such harsh taskmasters! Forgive me, I did not know you had suffered so in your quest for the horn.”

“Ha! Those guys little guys are as annoying as they are cute, it wasn’t entirely a bad experience” Cotton scoffed.

“I must say, your spirited accounts always come as a welcome change from the arid reports which fill my days.”

“More wine my lady?”

“Yes please!”

Cotton had been drinking a bit more than she probably should have by this point, but it was readily offered, and she was having fun, so why not indulge a little right? It was hardly the first time Aymeric had seem her be sloppy. She wasn’t drunk by this point but was certainly tipsy, the pleasant buzz making her gigglier than she’d normally be, and for some reason more talkative. Normally she was a moody, quiet drunk, but she was finding her time with her friend made it easier to be open. If Aymeric had noticed her change in demeanor he hadn’t really said anything about it, although Cotton was pretty sure he could tell.

“Though I have lived in these lands my entire life, to hear you speak of them, there is much and more I have yet to see. Truly, yours was a marvelous journey.”

At that Cotton gave out a quiet chuckle, her hand coming up over her mouth as though the subtle sadness she felt at Aymeric’s words should be something kept private. She didn't envy all the restrictions that seemed to come with Aymeric's life. Plus, even though the night had been pleasant, and she was happy to finally make good on their plans to just share a meal and relax a bit, she still couldn’t shake her grief even now. Her journey here had been fun, but it had also been painful.

“You know you’re always welcome to join, if you can escape your job long enough to have some fun that is.”

At that Cotton watched Aymeric give the cutest smile she’d ever seen grace his face before.

“Hah! Well… Truth be told, when I think back on the sweeping vistas of the Churning Mists, I do feel some slight pangs of wanderlust… Alas, much as I would like to accept your invitation, I fear my present duties with the House of Lords demands my undivided attention. Someday, perhaps.”

Cotton shrugged.

“Well, if you do ever get a moment to get away you know how to get a hold of me.”

It was probably the effects of the alcohol, but she swore she saw a tinge a pink on is face in that moment. But the moment just as quickly passed as he cleared his throat and spoke.

“By your deeds, you have helped us to lay the foundation for lasting reform. The formation of the republic is but the beginning, for it is not only our system of governance which must needs change. We the people must learn to let go of our hatreds and rise above our bloody past. I only pray that I live long enough to see us achieve some measure of success, that I might know the lost did not die in vain.”

Cotton hummed in agreement. Aymeric didn’t know it of course, but she really did admire him for his conviction to make lasting and worthwhile change for the better, especially when it seemed like he had so much opposition. Cotton herself came from a not so different background, a runaway piece of property from a cult across the salt in Tural. The Dawns Blessed, what a joke. As much as she hated thinking about her unfortunate upbringing, seeing his hope and dedication for a better future for his people made her feel some pangs of guilt. If only she had the strength to do the same for the people she still cared about.

The people she abandoned.

Selfish whore.

“I can still see you there, on the Steps of Faith, striding fearlessly towards the wyrm… If you could do that, who are we to balk at the challenges ahead?”

Well, it’s nice someone sees it that way. Cotton had always found it much easier to throw punches and take hits over trying to deal with the thoughts and emotions of people.

 “The question of how best to strengthen ties with the other great nations of Eorzea has been debated at length in the Lords and Commons of late. As you may imagine, maintaining stability during this period of historic upheaval is our paramount concern. Nevertheless, we are greatly indebted to the Alliance for their support during the grand melee, and it would be remiss of us not to repay their faith in kind. Of course, we owe you the greatest debt of all, and it is my hope that in extending our support to you and the Scions, we might also express our gratitude to our neighbors, nay, our fellow Eorzeans, whom we pray you will continue to protect. The Lords and commons agree on very little, but not a soul in either house begrudges your order this offer of patronage. For all you have done and will do, we thank you.”

Well this has taken an uncomfortably political turn. So much for a relaxing evening with her friend, but Cotton supposed that is just kind of how the sweet workaholic was wasn’t it?

“…May I ask you a personal question?”

“Sure.”

“Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion I mean, but… What you want for yourself?”

“Oh…”

Cotton’s jaw almost dropped, not only had no one in all the time she’d spent in Eorzea, or even Tural for that matter ever really asked her that before, but now faced with the question of what she actually wanted with her life, from life, she didn’t really know. Her mouth did hang open then, her eyes a touch wider as she realized this. Earning her a somewhat confused look from Aymeric. It took a couple of seconds for her to simple be perplexed before she spoke.

“I..”

And that’s when they were interrupted. Thank the gods, more merciful distractions.

Chapter Text

“Halt!”

A tall Viera woman with silver hair stepped out in Cottons path on her way to what appeared to be the Crystal Tower. She wore a dark colored uniform with a swath of red fabric around her shoulders, suggesting she was as a soldier of some kind. And the stern look on her face suggested she wasn’t all that thrilled to see someone approaching. Strange, Cotton thought, given the Crystal Tower had never needed guards before. Although everything that had been going on as of late was equally strange. The scions fainting and going into comas, a hooded stranger trying to communicate from gods knows where, and now everything is purple.

“Every face in this city I know. Yours I do not. This is the threshold of the Crystarium stranger, and I am its gatekeeper. If you would enter, you will answer my questions.”

“Sure, but I think I might have some questions myself if that’s ok?”

The Silver haired woman didn’t seem to like that as an answer all too much judging by the scowl on her face. she continued to press forward anyway.

“From where do you hail?”

“Do you mean where was I born or where did I just come from, because I’m not sure how to answer the latter. I think I’m either very lost or having some kind of stroke.”

“Do you take me for a fool? Had you given me an honest answer I would not have barred your way, we care little here for a person’s place of origin. But instead, you chose concealment, and I will not suffer you to pass.”

Before Cotton could give any kind of reply, the woman drew her weapons, Chakrams of a dancer, just like Cotton herself. Much to Cottons surprise and relief though, the soldier woman’s target was an all-white feathery creature the had been making its way up to the two women. Then to keep the weirdness of the day going, the creature dispersed into a pillowy puff of light, leaving behind a gody blue ring.

“That one had eaten. It must have gulped down the whole hand, ring and all…”

Huh?.. Wait. Oh holy shit! Cotton’s stomach dropped as she realized that was the same ring she saw moments earlier on the hand of a kind stranger who pointed her in this direction in the first place. Does this mean he was dead? She was taken from her morbid train of thought as she finally came face to face with someone she wasn’t too happy to see.

“Everything all right Captain?”

Cotton turned around to see the same hooded man who’d been snatching up her friends, and nearly herself. Or wait, she was here now so he had successfully snatched her up too. She absolutely wasn’t just that bit more annoyed at the realization, nope not at all. But she did hope her distaste for the stranger showed in her face as she allowed herself to glare in his direction.

“Quite all right my lord. Just a stray sin eater, and a weak one at that.”

“I see. Weak or not we should be on the lookout for more.”

The hooded man then gave a smile to Cotton despite her still present despondent expression.

“But I see you’ve met my guest. I will Escort her to the Crystarium Myself… If you’ve no objections?”

“Freind.”

Crossing her arms, the word gave Cotton an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

“Another of your mysterious friends is it? I Should have known. Very well. I shall inform the others your guest is to be given the run of the city.”

Turning to the shorter Viera, the silver haired guard gave Cotton a little bow.

“Pray forgive my less than cordial welcome. May the rest of your stay with us be a pleasant one.”

Striding up next to Cotton, the hooded man spoke in a somewhat hushed tone.

“Come with me. I will answer whatever questions you have when we are somewhere more private.”

Cotton looked the man up and down. She did not trust this person for a moment, however he was her only hope to finding out what had happened to the Scions, so for now she’d play along. The only thing that mattered to her was finding the closest thing she had to a family, her missing friends.

Sometime later, the “Crystal Exarch” and Cotton were standing in a large open area within the city. He’d sent her on an annoying misadventure of running around and learning about the city and how things in the First operate in general. However, none of that felt helpful. He’d taken a few moments on their walk to this point to explain the flood of light, that this world was in need of help, and she really did have sympathy for these people’s plight, but why did he need her and the Scions?

“Yes, it seems you were treated to a most thorough introduction. I understand it was something of a chore, but twas necessary that you grasp things before we proceed. As for the Crystal Tower’s origin, you may have noted that details were sparce. The structure is, in fact, the selfsame one you know from the Source, transported to the first in its entirety.”

Huh? The more this man spoke the more irritated Cotton became.

“It was my first attempt at breaching the boundaries between worlds, something of a trial run for your eventual crossing.”

Huh!?

“And although I do not know which era I tore it from, I do know that its arrival served to set the wheels of fate in moti-“

“Stop.”

“I… beg your pardon?”

“I said just stop.”

Cotton dam near snaped at this point. She couldn’t see the look on the mans face under the hood, but she did note that he moved just a touch back as she berated him with questions.

“What do you mean you just ripped the entire Crystal Tower though time and space! Why did you need me or the Scions! Did your star not have anyone else! How can you do something like figure out about the reflections, and how to traverse them, then just casually take such an important and dangerous thing like the Crystal Tower, while not even caring what point in time you’ve taken it from! Are you even able to use it! HOW!? And was there no one in the tower! Where is G’raha Tia! Where are the Scions! How can one person be capable of all of this but not competent enough to fix their own problems!?”

With a somewhat stoic patience that must have taken years to learn, the Crystal Exarch quickly recovered his composure. He didn’t interrupt her, didn’t dismiss her questions or distress, just let her finish her exclamation. When he next spoke, he did so with an even tone. Calm and measured as if she might bite were he to say the wrong thing.

“Right. Tis time I fulfilled my half of the bargain, however, this is a conversation I would rather have in the privacy of my quarters. I must go on ahead to the tower and organize a few things, but I shall see that the guard knows to admit you.”

“Fine. But you said you’d answer my questions, so I’m still holding you to that.”

With that the man simply nodded, turned, and headed up the large steps into the tower. Normally Cotton’s echo would be driving her crazy by now. Allowing her to notice things that might otherwise slip by undetected. But for some reason, with this guy that wasn’t happening. This time she was feeling just regular old paranoia about this man who kept offering very little explanation for all the trouble he’d caused. So as undesirable as it was, the warrior of light would have to play along for now. At least until she could find her friends, she told herself. Then she’d figure something out from there, as long as she could lay eyes on them and be assured of their safety, she’d do whatever she had to.

Chapter Text

“Hold on a moment!”

Cotton strode up to the Crystal Exarch. She didn’t trust him just yet, but she trusted the twins, and they were eager to help restore the first to its rightful state. It’s not that she didn’t care about the people of this star, but she didn’t see them as hers, not in the way she saw the scions.

“Do you expect to just send us into the fray after this lightwarden and just hope we don’t turn once it’s killed?”

“I assure you, you shall not come to harm.”

Turning to Lyna he continued.

“I must ask that the guard stand down and allow us to engage this leader of eaters alone. Concentrate on the survivors, we must save every life we can.”

What’s up with this guy? Does he actually genuinely care about these people, and if so, then why is he also just so sketchy? If he’s such an honest soul, why the need for so much secrecy? Cotton huffed and crossed her arms. She hated how much this man made her feel like a broody child in her frustration.

“But what if… Understood my lord. As captain of the guard, however, I will not watch you brave such danger without an escort from our ranks. I insist I go with you.”

“Very well. Then our warden slaying party shall include myself, the Leveilleurs, Captain Lyna, and last but not least…”

With his awkward pause he looked at Cotton. Who despite her grouchiness gave him a stoic nod.

“Yes yes, I’m still going too…”

“A formidable group ideed. Into Holminster we go! Once we reach the lightwarden, do not hold back, we strike to kill!”

“…We stand in the presence of a lightwarden.”

The Crystal Exarch somehow seemed both anxious, steadfast, and somewhat… Giddy? All at the same time.

“Aye, this is the true scourge of Lakeland!”

Captain Lyna and the Exarch both had a far better understanding of what they were truly dealing with compared to the twins and Cotton. But even though she didn’t grasp the gravity of everything they were doing, Cotton’s Echo was still telling her one thing for sure, this thing was a threat. At some point during the liberation of Ala Mhigo, Cotton had taken up the Scythe. As much as she was loving this new fighting style, she was still clunky in a few areas. This showed itself at probably the most inopportune moment possible during their fight with the lightwarden.

“Alisaie!”

The Scion Cotton felt the closest to was swept up in an attack by the lightwarden, the giant disgusting creature had her trapped in some kind of chain.

Cotton, knowing full well that she’d take a considerable hit for herself, leapt to the younger woman’s aid.

“What are you doing!”

Cotton ignored her and just focused on the chains, freeing Alisaie in time for Alphinaud to pull his sister away from the oncoming attack. Cotton closed her eyes and braced for the hit, but it never came.

“No you don’t!”

She opened her eyes to see the Exarch of all people, shielding her from the lightwarden. He’d stabbed his sword into the ground and large blue wings had sprung up from his shield, a gush of air caused her hair to whip around her face. He was so small, how did he even manage to avoid getting knocked back?... He did have maybe possibly attractively broad shoulder she conceded. But he was still in sandals for gods sake!

“Cotton!”

He called out her name, snapping her out of her surprise. She gathered her wits and leapt over the Exarch, giving the lightwarden one final slash. The giant beast let out an ear-splitting roar and slumped to the ground with an earth shaking thud. Standing back on her feet the Exarch came running over to her side.

“My friend, you were not injured, were you?”

There’s no way this guy cared that much, right? What did he want from her? Before she could give any sort of response the lightwardens body began to glow, soft whispers of dust like speckles floating from the creature’s unmoving body.

“It’s releasing its aether! Fall back! We cannot let it touch us! Quickly my lord we must withdraw!”

“That will not be necessary captain. Though I appreciate your concern. The eternal light of these creatures has confounded us for nigh on a hundred years. For each we put down, another has risen up in its place, born of the selfsame aether relinquished by its predecessor. But now we have a way to contain that corruption.”

He turned to Cotton as he spoke, and then she started to catch on. He wasn’t referring to the blessing of light, was he? How did he know about that, or even how it worked? Cotton barely understood how it worked, seriously who is this guy?

“You don’t mean?...”

The wispy dusty light from the giant beast began to rise up and started to flow directly towards her. She was nervous, not really knowing what to expect, but she didn’t move.

“The blessing of light and the hero who wields it now stands before you!”

Everything sort of zeroed in on the light for her in that moment. Everything in her peripheral vision was drowned out by the blinding light that surrounded her body. It settled on her in an oddly cold sensation that became unnervingly calming experience. Only once the light had settled did her vision return to normal. She could feel the light overflowing and running over and through her like a liquid. Throwing her hand up towards the sky, a beam of the light left her body shooting upwards and parting the cloudy sea of light, revealing the night sky.

“Behold the monster’s power is broken! And the world twisted by its touch returns to its rightful form!”

Though Cotton had still recently seen the night sky on the Source, the Exarch and Lyna had not. The twins too had been there a whole year, and were just as surprised to see the change.

“Is that… What I think it is?”

Asked the Captain, mouth held open in disbelief.

“The night sky, as it should be.”

Replied Alphinaud.

“Who are you people? You killed a warden, then bathed in its aether as if it were a spring shower, and now the sky?... The legends are true!”

Cotton couldn’t help but smile a bit. She’d never thought she could make someone so happy by showing them the sky. Soft steady footsteps drew her attention as she realized the Exarch was walking up to her. And much to her surprise, and embarrassment, he knelt down in front of her. Lyna seemed equally as bewildered by the gesture.

“My lord?...”

“How many years have I waited for this moment… For the one possessed of her blessing, for you.”

Cotton’s mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water. She had no idea what she should say or do at such an open gesture. She felt uncomfortable being at the center of such attention, but she could also tell whoever this man was, he’d been through gods only knows what, so she didn’t interrupt.

“You have vanquished the lightwarden of Lakeland, and for the first time in a century darkness has returned to the mantle of night. Without the ever present light to sustain them, the sin eaters will have no choice but to retreat… Yet our victory is far from complete. Though darkness has fallen here, the other wardens yet bask beneath burring skies, feasting upon what little life remains. Even should it cost me all I have, I would see each and every one of them slain, that this world might be spared from oblivion. Not only for the first, but for the source as well! Save one and we save the other! But…Be that as it may… I concede it was wrong of me to summon you to this fight against your will.”

Dam right it was. She’d still meant to give him shit for that at some point, for herself and for kidnaping what was essentially her only family.

“I swear on my life I will one day atone for that deed, but for the present… I beg you stay and see this fight to its conclusion. Cast down the wardens, and restore darkness to the First!”

“I…Please stand up.”

Cotton couldn’t take much more of this grand standing awkwardness. She knelt down herself, grabbed one of the mans hands if both of hers, and brought him to stand up.

“I’m not going to lie, I don’t know if I can fully trust you with all the secrecy…”

She still had the sinking suspicion she knew who he really was, and if this was in fact her friend somehow now living on the First, then she could at least convince herself to trust that he had good reason for his actions.

“However, if my friends trust you, then I can trust them.”

Realizing she was still holding his hand she gingerly dropped it and tried to not make it obvious that she was a bit flustered. The Exarch on the other hand was smiling at her.

“On behalf of the first I offer my deepest thanks.“

Alisaie then took the opportunity to chime in with all the same questions Cotton had been asking. But of course, she phrased them far better than Cotton could, as she didn’t really have a way with words like most people seemed to have. Why was he risking himself like this in the first place? From what they’d all learned since being on the First was that this man was basically a century old! Why was he so dedicated to all of this?

“There are… Things which we can ill afford to lose. And… I sensed from the first that I had a part to play in preserving them.”

…Why had he glanced at Cotton when he said that.

“…Forgive me, I fear the events of the day may have taken their toll. Despite appearances I am an old man. One burdened with many… Difficult memories, some too painful to recall.”

Cotton could have choked on her own spit in that moment as she was instantly struck with an intrusive thought. Oh great, a dilf with a tragic backstory. Nothing enticing there, not at all.

Chapter Text

Two lightwardens dead, one Minfilia saved, now it was on to a place called Rak’tika. The others were saying that’s where Y’shtola was staying. According to the Exarch he had reached out to her before, but she’d been “disinclined” to speak with him. Though Cotton didn’t blame her, she herself was beginning to trust the Exarch more than she wanted to admit. She had built up something of a repertoire over the course of her life for putting her trust in untrustworthy people. Since receiving the echo that had begun to help her discernment, but it wasn’t sounding off any alarms for this man. Plus, seeing how her friends had so much trust in him and his council, seeing how his people had so much respect for him, she couldn’t just ignore all that. When he had joined them for yet another battle, the leader of a nation, he didn’t just decide to go to war, he had asked his people if that was what they wanted. She was trying not to pay it much mind, but she was kind of starting to admire this man who’d put her and her friends though so much trouble.

Upon arriving in Lakeland Thancred, Urianger, Minfilia, and Cottons first order of business was to find a tablet the Exarch mentioned would make a good gift for Y’shtola. Urianger had explained some of the history of the church ruins they were searching, but ultimately suggested there was so much to explain that it would be “a tale for another time”. However, what little he did explain Cotton was trying to ignore. It felt just a little too close to home with some eerie similarities to The Dawns Blessed, her home. Even now as they searched an empty old chapel room, the fact alone that it was underground unnerved her. Back in Tural she had lived in the Dawn’s church, and a large part of it stretched underground, just like this one did.

“Aye, this is indeed the church we seek,”

Exclaimed Urianger.

“It’s surprisingly intact.”

Minfilia chimed in.

“It’s subterranean construction hath done much to protect the hall form the ravages of time. Yet the reason for its remarkable preservation may be deduced from its decoration. As faith in the light did wane, so rose reverence for the dark. And its follower did want for places of worship. To be plain, the standards which do adorn these walls belong not to those who built them, but to worshipers of the dark, The Night’s Blessed.”

Cotton’s blood may as well have left her body with the chill that overtook her sense. Her stomach deciding that everything she’d eaten that day may as well have been magots with how it turned against her. Her friends were still conversing between themselves, but she heard none of it. No. No. What is this? What kind of joke is this? She needed to ground herself. She wasn’t even on the same star- how could- No! Focus- ground yourself you’re here! Right here in the present! Feet flat on the ground- how many black things can you see- black dust on the ground- black fabric on the walls- Urianger’s black cloths- Thankcred’s black armo-

“Cotton? Are you with us?”

She jumped a bit. They were all facing her, confused and inquisitive, Thancred questioning her.

“Is it the Echo, did you see something of this place?”

“N-no. Just feeling a bit. Out of it I suppose.”

“Art thou in need of respite ere we depart for Rak’tika?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

They two men didn’t seem to take her fully at her word, but much to her relief they did not press further. She’d never actually spoken to any of the Scions about her past, about why she ever came to Eorzea. When she first crossed the salt, she was undergoing emergency surgery. The surgeon on board had insisted on skin grafts to treat the burns that covered Cotton’s body. They’d already treated her wounds with what stiches they could, her stab wounds compounding their pain with her burns. Just the memory felt so much like a dream, she had gone in and out of consciousness during the first two days they sailed, the woman who treated her, now one of her free company members. They’d never discussed everything that led to Cotton being in such a state, not that Cotton would have cared to talk at all. In the first full year of living on a new continent she’d barely spoken at all. A habit that she’d not fully tried to break yet, so many labeling her the “strong silent type” as a result. However, the reality for her was very different. She didn’t feel strong at all.

“Ere we depart, there is a custom of The Night’s Blessed which I feel compelled to elucidate.”

Urianger spoke up once more.

“As one might expect, they deem light to be adherent and everything it touches befouled. Thus do they take the utmost pains to protect all they can from its taint, including their very names.”

Oh gods.

“To speak plain, it is the belief of the Blessed that one’s own name must ne’er be uttered in the light of the everlasting day. Yet this commandment precludeth not the use of another’s, thus do parents protect their children, and in rare cases, masters their disciples. So it is that Y’shtola hath taken the name of Master Matoya.”

How. No. Why is this happening- how is this happening?!

“Cotton are you sure you’re alright? You’re normally not so pale.”

Thancred spoke up before her mind could begin to spiral properly, but that didn’t quell the rising panic in her. It seemed she would have to say something. However, as she began to hyperventilate a bit, she instead found herself sort of fidgeting. She was looking around as if there was something in there that could help her ground herself- the stairs!

“Air- I need to- outsi-“

She could feel herself shaking now, her legs felt like jelly, her arms felt like heavy lead. She knelt down on one knee with one hand on the ground to support herself. The world spun around her, hands grabbed at her and she shrieked, emitting a sound the other two Scions didn’t know the Warrior of light could produce. She shirked away and fought against faceless hands. She curled in on herself on the stone floor, one hand protecting her abdomen, the other helping to hold her weight. She tried to speak but her breathing was so erratic by this point it was hard to make out what she was saying.

“N- pl- se- sorr- I’m- no!”

Fearing that she was in some way injured, Urianger and Minfilia rushed to her aid, Thancred stepping back, not sure what he should do.

“Cotton!”

Urianger couldn’t see any visible injuries, but she was hiding her stomach.

“Cotton please, what ails thee!”

“Win- Winter- wint- n- ple- !”

She wasn’t responding clearly and she wouldn’t let them touch her, so not knowing what else to do, Urianger put her to sleep with a quick spell.

For a mercy, she dreamed of nothing but pitch black. She woke violently, shooting to an upright position with a sharp gasp that demanded the attention of the Exarch, Chessamile, and Urianger. She was back in her room at the Inn. Seeing her surroundings, she immediately dropped back down in relief. Safe. She was safe. Out of her three guests, the Exarch spoke up first.

“Tis good to see you awake, my friend.”

She could hear that he was speaking a bit more softly than he normally did, some kind of bedside manner.

“Pray tell us, how are you feeling?”

Cotton brought one of her arms up over her eyes. She’d had a full on flash back, a whole ass episode right in front of some of the people she never wanted to discus this with. Her response was delayed, but she understood she wasn’t going to just be left alone without an explanation this time.

“…I’m ok.”

The Exarch frowned.

“Chessamile, you found no cause for alarm, correct?”

“No Exarch, as far as I can determine, she is in perfect health. From what I gather, it seems she went into shock, but otherwise she is fine.”

“I see… Thank you for your assistance Chessamile, that will be all.”

Cotton kept her eyes covered, she was dreading whatever conversation was about to happen when that door closed.

“Urianger, you said she collapsed inside the ruins?”

“…Aye. Twas naught moments after I elucidated upon customs of the Night’s Blessed that Cotton did begin to waver”

There was a pause for a moment, just silence. This didn’t make sense. This was The Warrior of Light. He wouldn’t call it “obsessing” but G’raha had spent nigh on a century driven to achieve the impossible with naught but the stories of her to inspire him. Was it the light? Was the combined light of two wardens taking such a toll already? But there were no signs of her turning, so why was she going into shock? Maybe the light was reacting to a place of worship for the dark? When he spoke up, he chose his words carefully.

“My friend, we can plainly see that you are not entirely yourself… Is there naught we can do to be of assistance to you?”

Gods dam this man for being for sincere. Cotton sat up slowly, ad took a heavy sigh.

“…Please don’t take this the wrong way, but… Do we have to do this? Can’t Chessamile’s words be enough to show I’m ok?”

The Exarch and Urianger shared a look that expressed their worry. Though only Urianger’s were visible, both men’s brows were furrowed in concern, and a tinge of frustration as well. Urianger had already discussed with Thancred what they’d heard her saying in the ruins. And Urianger had put forth the idea that perhaps she’d experienced some sort of flashback, either from the Echo, or some form of PTSD, she was a soldier after all. When they had posited everything that had transpired to the Exarch, along with their theories, he didn’t say much, mostly just listening. He knew her stories, he knew how she would have otherwise died if not for her being here now, he was well aware of the hardships the Warrior of Light had surmounted. Now however, G’raha Tia found himself questioning what he thought he knew.

“I shall go relay to the others that Cotton is well and awake once more. Pray, please take thy time in thy recouperation Cotton.”

For some reason, Urianger leaving made it a bit easier for her to breathe. Like she had just that fewer eyes on her weakness.

“… I shall not continue to pry, if you truly are so adverse. But my friend please just know this.”

The Exarch kneeled down beside her on her bed, and scooped up one of her hands in both of his own.

“I understand there are things in this life you may wish to leave in the past, and I shall not be the tool in which they are dredged back to the present. I too have had my fair share of hardships I wish to forget… So, though it may not be much, please know that you are not alone. I may not be as capable as the Warrior of Light herself, but I can lend and ear…”

This made Cotton feel conflicted. Here this man was being so kind and sincere with her, again, but he also didn’t understand her, not really. He still only saw the Warrior of light, and this made her feel all the more isolated.