#she does not like zenos but she cannot deny that he has the looks

[sapphire-scarletta-wol]

Behold a random thing I wanted to do and think about

There are many men that are very simpable so I organized my choices (and some of my wols choices) by race.

I added in the girls to be fair.

I couldn't really choose or pick anyone for the 2 question mark places,maybe in the future there would be new characters and I could update this.

But overall,ff14 men are just hot >///<

SE why u do this to us.

Oh and if anyone wants to try this out I made a blank one,boop-

#ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 ffxiv #ff14 art meme #ff14 art template #hottest ff14 character meme #this made me realize my wol apparently likes really old men- #she does not like zenos but she cannot deny that he has the looks #most my choices are pretty basic but cmon man #they hot and they have relationships with the wol

[jenovahh]

Wild Greens Choke Tended Gardens - Ch. 4 - Gladiolus (Sword Lily)

He’s bored.

He usually is, but something about the monotony of everyday life seems particularly...bothersome now.

It has been another day of delegating and overseeing, having returned to the Garlean Embassy within Kugane after releasing the Warrior of Light back to her friends.

“I’m A’yana Salvia, the Warrior of Light.” She huffs, her tail giving an angry flick. “And you are going to let my friends go, peacefully.”

He can’t help but let loose a chuckle then, eyes unseeing as a servant refills his glass of wine. He had to admit, it was certainly amusing to see how readily she stood up to him, how she was devoid of fear despite her defeat by his hand at their last encounter. He couldn’t help but find the entire situation...refreshing.

“You are strong, but I am willing to lay down my life for my friends. I would do whatever it takes to allow them to escape.”

He had heard of people like her. Noble. Dutiful. Selfless.

A waste, comes the thought unbidden.

He had never understood those types, those that threw down their lives for the sake of others. Those who attached their sole reason to do battle to weak concepts such as selflessness and pride.

Man should fight for the joy of it. Only man could fight for fightings’ sake.

“Why are you even here?”

He can’t help but grin to himself, remembering her rage, how her eyes flashed with unbridled fury at his insult of her skills. How he could see any desire to save her friends had bled from her eyes and turned into a wish to see him dead where he stood.

“You had come looking for me, have you not? Sorry to disappoint you once again, but I am the Warrior of Light and the Warrior of Light is me.”

A’yana Salvia, the Warrior of Light…

Standing from his chair, he excuses himself, not allowing himself to head to his rooms straightaway. While sleep was tempting, if only to spare him from the boredom of the waking hours, he had something to occupy his time if only for a little while.

He walks the halls until he reaches a door, punching in the code to unlock the latch to allow him inside. Behind the door was an office, nearly as opulent as his own back home in Garlemald, filled with all manner of books and files and maps. Upon the desk was a neat stack of paper, along with a single book, bound in leather with gold trim.

Nearing the desk he sits himself in the high backed chair accompanying it, leaning back for a bit of comfort as he takes the documents in hand and reads the note on the first page.

A Brief History of the Warrior of Light, A’yana Salvia

At his request had his men been tasked with finding out as much about the Warrior of Light as possible, from the time of her birth to what she liked to eat for dinner. He was if anything thorough, and he had failed his own standards by not being able to connect her title with the Miqo’te woman herself. He would not make that mistake again.

Flipping the page, he is surprised to find there is little known about the details of her birth. The report goes on to say how there were no official records or reports or even hearsay of her birth, no ties back to any childhood homes. Even her parents were a mystery. Despite his best efforts to remain impartial, he couldn’t help but sit a little straighter, intrigued by the concept of a hero who came from nothing, but not in the traditional sense.

To anyone who tried to delve into her origins, they would find nothing. Even nomads, even beggars of savage city-states had some history and telling of their beginnings, and yet…

A’yana Salvia had none.

And not for lack of trying, either. The report goes on to say that others have attempted to dig deeper into her past, but no one, not even those known to be close to her know of her origins. It is said that she had almost seemed to appear from the mists, an adult ready to explore the world when she had been discovered by the Scions of the Seventh Dawn to come together to orchestrate Baelsar’s defeat.

It was all rather peculiar, that someone of such power had so little known about their life, save for their deeds as the hero. Enough deeds, that someone had deigned to write an entire book practically detailing her accomplishments.

The Dragonsong War, by Count Edmont Fortemps lays on the desk still, its leather staring back at him unassumingly. Cutting his eyes back to the report, he flips through the pages, seeing more information he had known already in addition to whatever his men could scrounge up. He had already heard the Garlean side of Baelsar’s defeat, but the report managed to dig up a few more details, such as her befriending of the traitor, Cid nan Garlond.

Done with the report, he picks up the tome, flipping through the first few pages that details the author’s early life. His years as a child were oft spent in between the shelves of the royal library, the princeling easily gaining the ability to scan through tome for information he sought.

Reaching the beginning of the retelling, some of the words begin to jog his memory. He had heard of the first brood. Heard of the terrifying power of Midgardsormr and his equally terrifying children from books about the fall of Agrius. The war of a thousand years waged by one of the dragon’s sons, fueled by nothing but his hatred for mortals. He had not seen such a beast himself, but he knew that the stories were true that despite not holding their sire's power, the first brood were still magnificent in their own right.

And she had slain him, this Nidhogg.

The Warrior of Light was lucky, yes, but there was no denying her power.

How could such potential be housed in such a small frame, such gifts be given to someone so... unworthy?

Part of him whispered that she was not as unworthy as he thought. The slowly fading scar on his neck attested to that.

It had been years since he sustained such an injury, his fingers constantly drifting to his neck anytime glanced at himself in a mirror. It had long since healed, the scarring not an angry red, but pale and silvery, as if dust from the moon itself had been imbued in her magic.

His eyelids fall close as he relives the rush of pain, the rush of feeling his blood well up into tiny pebbles at the small cut on his skin. He was strong enough to withstand her magic without difficulty, but even the discomfort it gave told him that the average man would find it nigh unbearable.

Their gap in power was not as large as it first seemed. Unlike him she lacked training, lacked control.

Somehow that was part of his unintentional obsession. He had built himself from the ground up with power, doing all he could to become a better hunter. The prestigious prince who had the best instructors in the land brought to his home to teach him, versus the feline warrior from shrouded origins with nothing but a blessing and luck to her name.

It was almost laughable really, and yet he found himself more intrigued than he cared to admit. He continues to flip through the pages, eyes dragging across the Ishgardian cursive script with the barest hint of detachment, his eyes steadily drifting closed.

He's dreaming again.

The usual warmth surrounds him, melding into his bones in a way that is frighteningly comforting. It has always been like this, yet only now does he consciously realize it is so.

It feels akin to--

The feeling of her in his arms--

"Thinking of someone?"

The dreamspace shifts and coalesces into another dense forest, though this time it is dark and moonlight drifts through the trees. His friend is behind him, their presence still formless and yet not, their energy seeming much looser and not all there.

"Why would you draw such a conclusion?" He asks, brows furrowed, not even bothering to turn to face what is not there.

"That woman," they begin, "the Warrior of Light. Was she not in your thoughts?"

He remains silent gazing up at the moon. It's milky surface stares back at him, shining brightly and illuminating the depths of his soul. He closes his eyes and allows himself to bask in its glow, the strange sense of comfort drifting across him again.

A minute passes before he realizes he's not given an answer. "Yes."

He hears tinkling sounds behind him, but still he does not turn to face them. "I like her."

Frowning, he responds in monotone. "That makes one of us."

Silence sits between both of them for another beat. "Do you feel nothing when you look in her eyes?"

He does whirl on them then glaring at their misty form. "I thought we already discussed this." he growls.

“Discussed what?” They question nonchalantly.

“Discussed this...soulmate nonsense--” he grounds out, glaring harder as their tinkling laughter surrounds him and their form solidifies a little more. “And what is so amusing?” he snaps, crossing his arms across his chest. “Do you find my innermost thoughts a source of entertainment?”

Though they don't have the form to manage it, even he can sense them shrugging nonchalantly. "I have only ever wanted you to be happy Zenos."

His lips move to form the words that he is happy, but he cannot bring himself to state such a blatant lie. Not to himself, not to his friend, because whether he liked it or not, they always found out the truth.

“And how would she make me happy?” he questions, regaining a little more composure. “She is weak. Untrained. She is used to having her equally weak companions throw her at whatever god arises and vanquishing it with raw power and sheer luck.” he scoffs, lip curling at the thought. “How could such a weakling make me happy?”

“You question how she could make you happy, yet you have spared her twice.” They respond, not at all bothered by his lofty tone.

Wrinkling his nose, he turns away from them again, trailing off into the forest. “A mistake I will soon rectify when next we meet.”

“Did she not say herself that you have caught her out of her element?” They press on, following behind him at a safe distance.

“What good is someone incapable of fighting on any battleground?” Zenos asks, uncaring as water from the creek soaks his pants leg. “Either she will prove that she is the challenge I seek when next we meet, or she shall die by my hand.”

His friend giggles behind them then, and he can’t help but turn once more to see their form a bit more solid. Were they always so much smaller than him? “And just what is it that you find so humorous?” He grumbles, sighing as the breeze caresses his skin.

“If only you could see it yourself, Zenos.” They giggle, their laughter like the tinkling of bells. “Try as you might, you're more invested than you let on.”

Frowning, Zenos finds that that thought resonates with him a bit more than he’d like. “You have known me this long. Am I anything other than thorough?” He asks, coming to a stop as he gazes out at the greenery before him.

“You are right, I have known you this long. Long enough to know when you are nearly obsessed. Long enough to know you thirst for more.” They echo, the dreamscape once again fading, his friend’s voice drifting away as it becomes indiscernible from the wind whispering through the trees.

Blinking away sleep, moonlight pours through the window, signaling he had been sleeping for quite some time. Shifting to a standing position, rolls his shoulders, preparing to retire for the night until he sees some of the Kugane guards running about in the streets.

Drifting closer to the window, he watches their paper lanterns light their path as they scuttle along, their voices muffled but Zenos can gather enough of what is going on. They seem to be trying to apprehend someone.

No longer interested, he prepares to turn away until a particular group’s conversation is loud enough to drift up to him.

Scions of the Seventh Dawn…

Garlean traitors…

The Warrior of Light--

His feet have carried him out of the office and toward the main entrance before he can even stop himself to ask what he’s doing. His soldiers question him, but he only feels his lips form the orders to not follow him if they wish to remain living. Grabbing a single sword, he stalks out into the night, noting that the guards have moved further into the city.

His hair trails behind him as he makes his way to where the general populace of Kugane resides, sticking close to the alleys as he keeps track of the guard’s movements through the streets. They are rather disorganized, and already he has spotted the two women the warrior calls her friends sneaking through the city to their destination. He does not doubt the Warrior of Light is far behind, taking the backstreets to keep a low profile. While not in his full regalia, there was nothing else he could be but the prince, and any guard that did happen to spot him wisely overlooked his presence.

It would also not do to have the woman know he was out looking for her as well. She’s doing a surprisingly good job of hiding from him; surely he would have spotted her at least once by now.

He keeps up his search until a group of guards begins shouting, their exclamations turned into coughs as a cloud of smoke erupts in the city street. Hurried footsteps barrel toward him and with all the grace of a predator does he reach out and snag the would be intruder, dragging them into the shadows as the smoke clears. They struggle against him but go still as the guards begin searching the area, failing to notice the two huddled together under a dark alcove.

As the sounds grow quieter, they renew their struggle, prompting Zenos to let them go.

“What are you doing?!” The Warrior of Light hisses, fangs catching the faintest bit of moonlight, sapphire eyes gleaming up at him in the darkness.

“Protecting my investment.” He responds dryly, watching as that riles her further.

“Your investment?!” She whispers harshly, looking as if she would love nothing more than to raise her voice.

“Letting you live was not without cost. Until I duel you under more...favorable circumstances, then it would be in my best interest to make sure no misfortune befalls you.” He sighs, watching as her eyes go wide with shock before narrowing once again.

“I did not need your help!” She growls, preparing to leave, but he blocks her path.

“I am inclined to disagree.” He purrs, unable to keep himself from poking the hot embers before him, in hopes that he’ll be burned. “Kugane may be a state of neutrality, but even they know that they must bow to the emperor, or risk their way of life being upset.” He hums, watching the gears turn in her head. “I would hate to bring attention to your location, or worse, your friends who I saw pass by earlier…” he trails off, unable to keep amusement from suffusing his words.

Her expression steels immediately.

Ah...there it is.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She whispers, the sound so sinister and low that he can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine.

“Would I?” he goads, eyes darting to how she flexes her claws. “While I have endeavored to occupy my time with more important matters, I find you have too many mysteries surrounding you for my curiosity to ignore.” He continues, watching an unreadable expression pass through her eyes. “Answer my questions truthfully, and I will allow you to return to your friends. Refuse…”

“Right, right, ask your stupid questions.” She snaps, crossing her arms across her chest.

He had expected more arguing from her, but he’s pleased to see that she is at least practical. “The first: why are you running?”

His eyes have adjusted to the darkness sometime ago, able to see her tail give an angry flick. “My friends and I were looking for a comrade of ours. Unfortunately we trusted a stupid fish who tried to turn us into your soldiers.” She grumbles, ears flicking to and fro as if still listening for guards.

“A comrade? For what purpose?” He continues on, unconsciously taking a step toward her. The alley is narrow and already one step has him nearly looming over her.

“To liberate Doma, what else?” She retorts, not at all afraid of him.

“You mean to free Doma?” He laughs, taking another step closer. She does take a step back then, though he can tell it is not from fear. Her eyes have not left his, fierce and unafraid. “While I applaud your ambition, I believe I have shown you twice now where standing against me will bring you.” He rumbles, voice thrumming in his chest. “What primal will your friends throw you at next, little Warrior? What tasks will they place upon you to bear alone?” He presses on, smirking all the while. “I have heard of Eorzea’s Savior, though a more aptly named title would be...Eorzea’s Errand Girl. Barring she is not killed first.”

“You…” she seethes, not even flinching as he backs her against a wall. He stands tall above her then, but she does not tremble, does not shake even though most people cower in his presence, his proximity notwithstanding. Even in the dark he can see the slits of her eyes have widened to let in more light, giving her superior vision in the night. Her fangs capture his attention with how sharp they actually are, but most of all…

It is the rage he feels from her that makes him shudder.

“Is this all you sought me out for? To insult me and make me question how my friends care for me?” She huffs, standing her ground.

“I have asked questions, but not made you question anything, Warrior of Light.” he chuckles, her title sounding like silk on his tongue. “I am merely curious about your endeavors, as any enemy would be. Is that so wrong?” He taunts, hoping for another violent reaction, but his smirk fades as a determination enters her eyes, one that stills his breath.

“You will listen and listen well, Garlean.” She hisses, reaching for his hair and yanking him down, the movement surprising him so thoroughly, his brain is still struggling to catch up. Never had anyone dare to take such liberties with his person. Even the servants whose job was solely to take care of his hair asked for permission to do their job.

That his body almost moves at her will, bringing him face to face with her so that she can glare at him from her level, sets something alight within him. A burn he had not felt his whole life. In this moment his entire being is tuned into her, tuned into the quiet conviction in her eyes.

“You may insult me all you like, but I will not allow you to insult my friends. Yes, they may be unable to fight a majority of battles without my help, but it is help I give gladly, it is help I give willingly.” She seethes, his eyes paying close attention to how the curl of her lip keeps her fangs displayed, almost as if in reminder of how she could sink them in his throat. The thought makes him shiver with an unnamed emotion. “As I had informed you at my capture, I don’t have time to play with a spoiled prince. My friends need my help and if it means giving up my life to help them, then so be it.” She growls, giving his hair one more tug and it goes straight to his groin.

“Now, you will be letting me go, without any fuss.” She demands, and just like that, he can see it.

The Warrior of Light in all of her glory.

She releases his hair, but he makes no moves to stand back to full height quite yet, still staring at her in muted wonder. She stares back until confusion slowly seeps into her gaze, unsure for why he has remained silent for so long. Silence continues to stretch between them, until her impatience finally gets the better of her. “Are you quite done staring? You are more than welcome to have me come sit in for a portrait if you so wish. I don’t have time to stand here with you gawking at me.”

Eyelids fluttering closed, he releases a single chuckle, standing back to full height as his hand absentmindedly runs across the strands of hair she had abused but moments before. Once he opens his eyes, she gasps, unsure what she sees there, but caring little.

If she had wanted him to leave her alone, there was no way he was doing so now.

“Very well, Warrior of Light.” he hums, stepping from her personal space. Giving her a forceful shove into a dark corner in the alley, not giving her time to complain as he calls out into the night. “Guards!”

He can hear her go stock still behind him, quiet as a mouse as nearby guards rush over to him.

“Lord Zenos!” they exclaim, bowing profusely in his presence. “How may we assist you?”

Glancing down the street, he remembers what direction her friends were heading before speaking once more. “While I am loath to help you bumbling savages...I would rather not have my rest interrupted by you shouting all over the district. While unsure of your targets, I last saw a suspicious group of people head south west of here.” Resting his hand on his sword, he can hear them all audibly swallow. “I would also suggest you be quick about it. I would like the district clear by the time I arrive at the Embassy to rest.”

“O-Of course, my lord!” they hastily bow, rushing down the streets like their lives depended on it. Turning to speak with the Warrior of Light, she stares back at him almost equally mystified, though her skepticism is clear on her face.

“As I had informed you earlier...I must protect my investments.” He grins, lips pulling into a genuine smile that stuns her even further. “Run free, Warrior of Light. Our next meeting may be sooner than you think.”

She shoots him a distrustful glare without hesitation, pushing past him as if he were just another man and not her sole enemy. The change is so refreshing he cannot find it in himself to even think of punishing her for her disrespect. To do so would be counterproductive.

“Oh, my wild, untamed beast…” he purrs to himself as he watches her hurry to her destination, skirts trailing behind her as she disappears into the night. “There is no escaping me now.”

When he returns to the Garlean embassy it is with purpose, his men nearly jumping out their skin at the look in his eye as he begins rattling off orders. His father hasn’t approved any action to march on the savages in Gyr Abania, giving him a copious amount of free time to do as he wished. If his father really did begin to ask after him, he could always feign that he was putting the Doman wench in line; which would not be far from the truth. She had failed him by letting the Warrior of Light reclaim the Ruby Sea, and yet he cannot be too harsh on her.

She had brought him a challenge after all.

When morning comes, he feels a drive he had not felt since he was a boy. A zest for life that was blooming within his chest, barely able to contain the sheer joy he felt. It was not hard to arrange for his entourage to prepare him a vessel to depart for Doma the next morning. Using the information he had gleaned from the Warrior of Light the night prior, he was walking the halls of the dilapidated castle in no time at all.

The Doman woman kneels before him, subservient as the rest. Her hatred had intrigued him before; it was why he had seen fit to ascend her to a position that allowed the subjugation of her own people. But looking in her eyes now, all he can feel is disappointment.

Blue, feline eyes glare back at him in his mind’s eye, and a rush of heat runs through him.

“Have you anything to say for yourself?” he questions, not even deigning to stand up. Prostrated before him, he is glad she does not tremble before him at least, but the lack of defiance is rather uninspiring.

“Nay, my lord.” she replies, not even bothering to look at him to give her answer.

Rolling his eyes, he studies her for a moment longer. “Tell me then, in detail just how you failed me. Have you not heard of the Warrior of Light? Is your network so under utilized that you could not quash a rebellion well before it started?”

She flinches under his criticism, and remains kneeling before him. “I had not, my lord.” she answers, throat tight. “She was like a storm; a typhoon, making landfall before you could even do anything about it.” She does rise up to look at him then, most likely in hopes that he will see how sorry she is. “She had rallied the Confederacy so quickly, and I had tried to stop her...but suddenly those Kojin...she had slain a god.”

His eyebrows raise as she sounds almost stupefied, as if trying to make sense of how it all went wrong so fast. “It was as if the fear of the empire no longer mattered. Her and her friends had organized and planned, she had instilled the people with a will that even the empire could not suppress. She is formidable, my lord.” she finishes, and her words make him think.

The conviction he saw within her eyes, a will not easily broken. That even as he stood before her, out of her element, her life in his hands by the prospect of her being in his presence alone…

It was this will that inspired the masses to rebel as he had hoped the Doman woman could do.

Begrudgingly he had to admit that she knew how to inspire the masses. She accomplished in days what the woman couldn’t even accomplish after several moons and imperial forces at her disposal.

It was also clear that between her and her two comrades, she was not the strategist. He would not go as far as to insult her intelligence, but there was no denying that just as his presence evoked fear, hers inspired hope. He doubted she gave speeches, doubted she gave orders. Simply by existing she was an inspiration, a morale booster of the highest caliber.

He can’t stop himself from smirking, even if the action makes the woman before him fear for her life. He envisions those fierce blue eyes again, whispering her name on his lips.

“The Warrior of Light, A’yana Salvia…”

Her name on his lips tastes heavenly.

As much as she warned him to stay away, to threaten his life in the hopes he would take heed to her promises…

It only made him yearn for their battle more. Without trying, his prey had gotten snared in his trap--

And he would not suffer to let it go.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #ff14 #FFXIV #Final Fantasy XIV #WGCTG

[thelovelyghostwriter]

Why I started to like Neon Nostrade more (and why she’s more than just a spoilt girl)

Not gonna deny it, I disliked her when I first watched the 2011 anime. It pissed me off that she was gonna sneak out and that's how Chrollo managed to steal her Lovely Ghostwriter ability - which helped him save the Phantom Troupe. By right, Kurapika was supposed to wipe half of them. BUT, let's take a closer look at her character:

1) Most people just say she's spoiled. True! Yet, if you think about it, why is the Nostrade family so affluent in the first place? It's because of her talent. She is her father's cash cow, he's the reason why he had climb through the ranks and possibly gained income. Is it wrong for the girl to shop and spend on clothes that is because of her contribution? A large part of it is her contribution. In fact, her father is the one that is using her, commercializing her talent. Usually, it's the father that churns the cash and the daughter spends it - however, we see it as the other way round.

2) Neon's upbringing is rather wayward. We don't see her mother, and her father's likely more concerned about her ability than his own daughter. Their relationship seems transactional - "you do this, I give you expensive gifts". Because of this, it seems that Neon bathes in materialism (clothes, expensive dead body parts etc.) as a way to fill the void. She actually reminds me of Daisy Buchanan from The Great Gatsby - another woman who is so despondent that she ends up prioritising materialism more (she also gets a lot of hate, but I find her really interesting!)

3) Emotional detachment from the dead. We don't really know why she has a disgusting/weird hobby of keeping dead body parts - an indirect contribution to the Kurta clan's demise. But we can infer what she thinks of people in general, and how she sees the dead. On top of materialism, it seems that Neon is emotionally detached from people in general - probably because of the lack of affections from her father. Her father's sincerity doesn't entirely appear genuine. She was more worried about the auction items when Kurapika informs her that some of her bodyguards died, and we see the rest surprised by her reaction. She actually even tells Chrollo that she does not believe in the afterlife and that her fortune-tellings are for the living. To me, this is a complete juxtaposition to Chrollo's crying when he realised that Uvogin was dead, and Kurapika's emptiness and thirst for revenge because his clan was massacred. Yet, I do think she is capable of sympathy - given her shocked reaction when she saw Eliza breaking down. It was the reason why she wanted to go home early. It seems that she lived in a bubble (maybe girlie just needs a wake-up call?), up until that moment when she saw her attendant being devastated over her lover's death.  It's actually called "Dismissive Attachment Style", which is largely influenced by how your caretaker/parent has treated you.

4) The way she behaves with her attendants/bodyguards/father vs the way she behaved around Chrollo is a stark difference. I'd argue that the whole throwing tantrums and escaping shenanigans is a manifestation of wanting attention from her father. Being surrounded by bodyguards, not being able to have the freedom and being on constant surveillance - it's exhausting. She is more genuine and laidback when she had a conversation with Chrollo. It's also surprising how she trusted a random stranger as a desperate attempt to do whatever she liked (and yes it's selfish on her side), I'd argue that it's due to living in a bubble. Unfortunately, this interaction with Chrollo is not genuine on Chrollo's side - it's mainly to steal her ability, which helped Chrollo change the fate of the Phantom Troupe members. Again, we can see that her interactions with people are mostly not genuine - most of her employees only put up with her because of their jobs, her father is more concerned with her ability, her "fans" adore her because of her fortune-telling ability etc. Even Kurapika seek employment from her because of her hobby, so that he can fulfil his mission to collect the Scarlet Eyes; and protecting her to appear more trustworthy to Light Nostrade (we eventually see Kurapika as leading the Nostrade mafia family in the current arc). It's pretty much no wonder why she's emotionally detached.

5) Emotional detachment + spoilt + materialistic + weird-ass flesh collector hobby - not really your role model or someone you could relate to. In fact, morality in Hunter x Hunter characters pretty much don't really exist or it's not clear cut? We got homicidal thieves, a kid that smashes a cat-ant's skull, a freakin' hypersexualised borderline pedo(?) clown, a family of assassins and of course my all-time favourite: the sexy chain-wielding avenger who willingly compromises his moral values to achieve his goal. But, that's kinda why I started to like her? She's so twisted in her own way (like other characters) and justifiably because of her poor upbringing - yet it appals me that many fans dislike her flaws as if she's the worst when the other characters are 10 times worse, but the same fans probably like another morally deprived character. I don't really know the reason, maybe because she's a non-fighting female character or too little screen-time? Lmao.

In fact, her actions are a foil to Kurapika's plans (that was actually the reason why I disliked her initially). Kurapika could have found Chrollo first instead of Zeno and Silva, but her father called Kurapika and he's forced to prioritise her safety. Getting her ability stolen by Chrollo changed the fate of the spiders when Kurapika was supposed to wipe out half of them (but hey, we get the spiders and they're cool). It's kinda weird how she didn't do much, yet the chain of events (pun-intended) altered for Kurapika and the Spiders.

Of course, I'm not saying you cannot dislike her. That's up to you. I guess I just wanted to share why I started to like her and also to share certain characteristics of her that people may have missed out. I'm pretty much sick of people saying that she's just a spoilt brat, she doesn't have character depth... when out of all the female characters, she's one of the few where I can actually dig deeper into her character (maybe I haven't paid attention to the rest, but even my favourite girl, Machi... can't really say I have any analysis on her). All the elements of Neon's character are there, it's just not spelt out for us.

I would like to thank @aspoonofsugar and @anotherworldash in their analysis that helped me think about her character more and really appreciate Neon. 

#neon nostrade

[petri808]

Will we be seeing anymore Hakona fics from you anytime soon?? 0.0 Love your writing and your Kyoru fics lately!

🥰 thank you anon! I write when I can or when I get inspiration. And I’m really sorry for the late response, it’s been crazy irl, but I whipped this up for you :)

Together As One, Not Alone

Hakyona drabble

Since they would be near the area, Yun asked the group if it would be okay to check on Ik-Soo. Of course it would be, Yona had responded to the question. It had been quite some time since Yun had seen the soothsayer and besides, a short break in a relatively hidden place would be wonderful after all they had been through recently.

As expected, the place was in a total disarray, but even more surprising, Ik-Soo was in good health and spirits too. He almost seemed stronger than they had remembered. But when questioned, he just smiled, saying the Gods have been kind to him and that the future was bright for their Kingdom.

Hak scoffs, how could he be so sure when their enemies still held the throne.

“After a meal,” Ik-Soo smiles, “I will tell you more.” Then he bursts into tears and hugs Yun. “I missed you and your cooking!” Ik-Soo sobs unabashedly as the surprised young man grumbles and everyone chuckles. Stronger yes, but still the same ‘ole Ik-Soo.

A small feast was made with everyone pitching in. Jae-ha, Shin-ah, and Hak secured game and fish. While Yona, Kija, and Zeno find a few edible plants for Yun to cook with. Topped off with some high quality baijiu Jae-ha had managed to secure, it was turning into a very relaxing evening.

With everyone sitting around the hearth full and satiated, Hak brings up the last topic. “So, tell us more,” he sips his drink, “what did the Gods say to make you so happy?”

“It was of a destined tale full off heartache and strife...”

“Sounds miserable...” Hak mumbles and is quickly elbowed by Yona to keep quiet.

“... but also of strength and a perfect love that would guide this Kingdom for another century or more.” Ik-Soo grins. “I knew of much of the events of your lives, but the Gods have finally revealed the entire scheme to me. I cannot tell you everything, but now that you’ve realized your feelings for one another, I can tell you a little more of your tale.”

The rest of the group snickers, but Hak and Yona just sit there bright faced and in shock. How the hell did Ik-Soo know?! It’s a dumb question considering he knows all, but still the young couple were taken aback by it.

Zeno pipes in absolutely giddy. “Please, please tell us more!”

Again, Ik-Soo smiles and calmly continues. “Everyone’s paths are set into motion, a destiny if you will, that even when diverged from for short periods of time, will inevitably resume its course once more.”

He turns to Hak, staring the young man dead in his eyes, “though tragic it was to lose your birth family, it led you into the Wind tribe and Mundok’s care. This in turn led you to Yona,” he smiles at the Princess now, “as a protector, a partner, and eventually as the one who would sit beside her to bring peace to the people of this Kingdom.”

At this point everyone was just completely enamored with what Ik-Soo was telling them. Granted, it wasn’t surprising, except to maybe Hak and Yona who still denied much of their relationship’s reality.

Hak scoffs, destiny? Really? The idea of his life being led by something intangible was hard to fathom for his logic based mind. It’s as if he’s being told he was born to...

“Yes,” Ik-Soo cuts through Hak’s internal monologue. “Son Hak, your path has always been towards the two loves of your life, this Kingdom and the Princess.”

Jae-ha snickers and punches the thunder beasts shoulder. “Time you two get with the program! You love her, she loves you, we’re gonna take back this Kingdom, and everything’s gonna be great!”

“It will be wonderful again...” Zeno rocks his body with his arms weaved around his knees, reminiscing of a long ago time. “I’ve lived long for this moment.”

All throughout the story, Yona had sat quietly. She no longer doubted any of it, but was she really ready for what Ik-Soo was telling her?

“Princess Yona, do you remember when we first met and you felt you needed to figure out who and what you were before you could really do anything for your people? Since then, you have grown so much, have learned so much.” Ik-Soo smiles, “the strength you have now, shows you are ready. And remember you are not alone. They,” he gestures to the others, “are your support. Together as one, not alone, is how you will save this Kingdom...”

Later that evening, after everyone goes to sleep, Hak sneaks away into the surrounding forest to the river. It had been a lot of information to take in, in one night and he needed to think. He didn’t want to believe that this was all some grand plan, but he couldn’t deny how everything really did lead to this moment. Even the pain had a purpose.

He sits down near the waters edge, stretching out his legs and closing his eyes to the moon’s rippling glow. Hak sighs, it had never been his intentions to become a King, only to be Yona’s protector. To love her, even if it had been one-sided, for the rest of his life. Was that really something he was ready for?

A crackle in the brush alerts him. Hak turns to see Yona walking out of the tree line. “Couldn’t sleep either?” She queries with a small smile. He shakes his head and goes back to staring forward, reclined, propping his body up with his arms behind him.

Yona sits down next to Hak and closes her eyes briefly to let the soft white glow bathe her. “Hak, do you... do you think I’m really ready like Ik-Soo said?”

“I’ve always thought you were. But he’s right, you’ve come so far since leaving the castle...” Hak tilts his head, side-eying her with a glint, “You’re no longer that spoiled brat.”

“Oof!” Yona punches his arm. “Yeah, w-well you loved that spoiled brat too!”

Hak leans over and grabs her hand for the second blow, “you’re right, I did.” He narrows his eyes, “But I’ve come to love this stronger Princess even more.”

“Yona...” she breathes out as her cheeks flush, “call me by my name, I-I wanna hear you say my name.”

He moves into a full upright sitting position. “I thought you didn’t want me to forget...”

Her eyes crinkle at the edges as a sweet smile graces her face, “that was then. I know in my heart you’ll never forget my father and who I am. But now, I just want you to see me...” Yona looks down, “as a potential wife. I might not make a good one,” remembering his jokes about her, “but I’d do my best..”

Oh wow, was that still bothering her? Hak runs a hand down his face and laughs, “Yona, you’re the only girl I would ever marry.” He lifts her chin and chuckles, “whether you could do laundry or not. You’re stuck with me.”

“Does this mean I’m your betrothed now?” Yona asks meekly, her face flushing a deeper red. “If we really do get back home... I want you to be the King.”

That word causes Hak to pause again, ‘King,’ how is he really King material? Would he do a good job? His brows furrow in contemplation. He still wasn’t sure of that burden.

But Yona, sensing Hak’s trepidation, grabs his hand. “Stop doubting yourself! Destiny aside, Hak I know you’ll be great! You’re a natural leader, look at how the men on the battle field love you! Even my father...” moisture clouds her vision, “trusted you with his most precious thing. That alone should tell you how important you always were to this Kingdom.”

Hak is taken aback by Yona’s outburst. She really believes in him! He grabs her hand back, “Fine! If I have to stop doubting myself, then so do you! You‘ve become every bit the Queen I knew you could be!”

As they stare each other down, willing each other to just believe, it’s Yona that cracks first. She laughs and leans her forehead against their joined hands. “Hak did you ever think this is where we would end up one day?”

“No,” he mumbles.

Yona looks up, cupping his cheek with a soft smile. “Me neither, but I’m glad we did.”

Links for more stories found here:

@petrischronicles @petrisficlets

#hakyona #hakyona drabble #son hak #yona #akatsuki no yona #anon ask

[starcunning]

Anabasis

This, on the other hand ...

There might be one more in this wheelhouse before patch. We’ll see.

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Fray knows what is best for them, so it is Fray that rouses their body from bed, Fray that makes sure they remember to eat and wash and breathe. No one around them is aware of their curious codependency; Urianger had some early inkling of their symbiosis, but Urianger is gone.

So when a Julien de Vedastus is announced as wishing an audience with the Warrior of Light, it is Fray that prepares to meet with him.

The name means nothing to X’shasi, and hardly rouses her from her torpor. Fray expects an Ishgardian nobleman, disdainful of the layer of dust that has settled in the solar. Were there more of them perhaps they might have more concern for keeping up appearances, but the senior Scions are gone beyond the reach of even Eorzea’s greatest champion, and those that remain have other priorities.

Perhaps in time their dormitories will be like Minfilia’s solar, gilded with disuse; sunny rooms that no one visits. Perhaps Shasi’s will too. She thinks it from time to time—she will never take Fray’s offer to run away, but the choice to disappear and become unknown may not always be hers.

For now there is the unseemly quietude of the Rising Stones and a request for audience. Fray expects more requests will follow.

Julien de Vedastus enters the dusty room with a blademaster’s confidence. Fray can tell just from the sound of his footsteps. Something about them rouses Shasi from her living sleep, so that when Fray turns them around to see the man approaching in the garb of a Resistance soldier, she too is looking at him.

He is an Elezen man, with eyes of deepest blue and a Doman blade hung from his belt. The gryphon’s-head cap he wears casts a shadow over his features, but they are familiar to her just the same, as is the expression he wears: not the open worship of a man come to petition a champion, but a quieter awe. Tears prick her eyes. His name is not Julien de Vedastus. It can’t be. It’s something else. It’s—

“Zenos,” she whimpers. Her face is against his chest already, his arms around her, holding her up. They are the only thing that does; her knees are weak and wobbling. She clutches at him, callused hands clinging desperately to khaki canvas. He has a heartbeat. He is alive, somehow. Not himself, but here. “Yes,” he says, dropping to one knee. She can reach his neck now, and buries her face against it. His pale skin is perfect, unmarred. There should be a scar there, from the time he almost died in front of her, and there isn’t. She touches his chest, where another should be—from the time he did die in front of her. “I killed you,” she says. “How are you here?” “By accident,” he says, “and then by choice.”

She cannot make sense of it, and only understands that he has returned to her—an unforeseen boon executed in unforeseen fashion. For a moment she wonders if Myste has stirred, but her crystal is whole, if not her heart. Zenos lives.

“Where have you been?” she asks softly. “Garlemald,” he replies. “Elidibus has your body,” Shasi tells him, trying not to choke on the words. “I know,” Zenos says. “When I awoke, no one knew where you were. And in your absence, it seemed, certain parties were keen to cast your victory in doubt. I chased him across the provinces,” Zenos said. “Always just too late. Always just in time to hear about the miraculous recovery of the beloved Crown Prince. Lies upon lies.” “I believed them,” she confesses, and it shudders out of her like a sob. “For a time. I watched you die, and it broke me, but Brutus was so certain.” “Who?” he asks. “Asahi sas Brutus?” she says, feeling foolish. “Your devoted disciple?” “I believe I would know if I had taken such a person on.”

She can feel the tears roll over her cheeks, hot and unwelcome, falling onto the canvas of his uniform until it too is hot and damp and stifling, and still he does not let go of her. His fingers, familiar and strange, slide through her hair. “I know,” she says, trying not to sob. “I know, now. But I believed it. That somehow you had returned to the Empire, that you had played me for a fool. That this little killer from the capital knew you better—loved you better—” He hushes her, breath hissing from him. One hand strokes her back and the other comes to cup her chin, to lift her head. He will kiss her now, she knows, and she yearns for that without end.

But she cannot allow that, and turns her head. His lips brush the corner of her mouth instead. “We can’t,” she says, head dropping. He nuzzles against the crown of her hair, breathing deeply. Then he sighs—though he does not seem half so disappointed as he does relieved. “Why ever not?” he asks. She lifts her head to look at him. For all that he looks different, so much of him looks the same. She raises a hand and brushes back his hood, and the blond locks she expects come tumbling out over his shoulders, and she cannot bring herself to explain everything. She takes his hand instead, presses his palm to her cheek, his thumb to her scar. The scar he gave her.

It feels like cowardice when she says, “Look.” Like she should bear the pain of explaining, like she should wring herself out for him. Do you trust him with the knowledge of me? Fray asks. She only nods, eyes closing. Both hands clutch his now, the fingers of one locked around his wrist, the others intertwined with his own, pressing his skin to hers. “Don’t ask me to explain,” she says. “Please, please make this easy for me.” Her hands tremble. He nods, and presses his forehead to hers. His breath spills over her skin, evenly at first.

There is a soft yelp of surprise and pain, a trembling of his hand in hers. This is how she knows what he sees with his Resonance; this is how she can know he has drank of her suffering.

“He might still wake up,” she says, opening her eyes to fix the stranger that was once her lover with her pleading gaze. Her voice is quavering, desperate, trying to convince herself as much as explain to Zenos. “There might still be something I can do to save them, and when he does …” “When he does,” says Zenos, hoarse-voiced and closed-eyes, “you cannot have betrayed him.” He lifts his head. “Even if I can explain it to him and he understands,” she says, realizing now the impossibility of the situation, “I don’t know if you should be with me.” “I love you,” he says, as though this is simple. As though anything in her life has been simple in ten years. She closes her eyes on this notion, shaking her head. Her hands fall from his, but his fingers still caress her cheek. “Don’t be foolish, Zenos,” she says softly. “It’s easy to convince yourself you love someone when they’re around you all the time.”

The light is different in Mor Dhona, but the way it slants through the windows is just the same as at the conservatory, and for a moment she allows herself to indulge in the fantasy that it is moons ago, and she has not killed her lover, has not watched Myste die and Thancred fall. Less than a year’s turn and she is so much diminished by it; her responsibilities erode her. As Fray always warned. There will be nothing left of her, soon, and sooner still without him. Still, she cannot ask him to stay.

“Ah,” he says. His eyes are blue, and his insights are grounded in the mundane when he says, “This, then, is what you think happened with me?” “What choice had you but to love me!” she protests. “You were my captive! What choice does anyone have? I am the Warrior of Light! To deny me is to risk the future of this star entire. Is it not better to capitulate? To keep me happy?” Fray bristles in the back of her mind, but Zenos speaks before he gets the chance. “You think this, too, of your rogue, then. That, like me, you wore him down.” “Yes.” “You forget some things in your eagerness to explain this to yourself.” She glances away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze. “Like what?” she asks softly. “We have been apart for moons now,” Zenos says. “I did not forget that at all,” Shasi says, feeling her tone sharpen. He only holds her closer then, her ear to his chest. “But I chose to return. And you love me, despite my absence.”

She stiffens but does not pull away. Unseen, her eyes go wide, and she thinks over every word that has passed between them, and there, in her condemnation of Asahi sas Brutus, is her confession. No wonder he had tried to kiss her after.

Her love is a death sentence, but he has survived his execution, or at the very least haunts her in living flesh. “I love you,” she agrees. “It was around the time I met Lindleya that I realized …” “The Hydrus widow?” he asks, lifting his head from hers. She looks up into his face, finding his brow knitted. “Yes,” Shasi says. “Lindleya rem Aglaophotis. You knew each other?” ��Socially,” he says, and she remembers that which she always forgets: that he is a prince, with a prince’s education and a prince’s responsibilities. “She was wed to my father’s … favourite.” He lades the word with meaning, but she already knows all about Regula van Hydrus and Varis zos Galvus—and she knows, too, how it made Lindleya weep. “It was inevitable that we should meet. One pities her lot.” “Then would you be her?” Shasi asks. “In love with one whose loyalties are divided?” Zenos laughs softly. It is a comforting sound. “You have been in love with Thancred Waters longer than you and I have known each other,” he says. “You saw that when you looked?” “No,” Zenos says, “I saw it in the Menagerie, watching you fight. It came off of you so readily. I could read it in the air around you. And around him.” “But only because he and I—” Zenos clutches her to his chest, stroking her back. “You lost them all. For more than a year he was absent your life, and you loved him. He came back then. He’ll come back now.”

Shasi isn’t sure why Zenos is so keen to create for himself a rival, but she allows herself to relax against him for a moment. “What will you do now, ‘Julien?’” “My hope has ever laid with you,” he says. “And unless I miss my guess, you are in need of support.” “We have some allies yet,” Shasi says. “That is not what I am saying,” he tells her. He draws back far enough so that he can look upon her face, cradling it in his hands—or in the hands he now possesses.

“I needed you, once,” he says. “Whatever I am now, I owe to you. Let me repay that.” Her vision blurs with tears, and she buries her face against his shoulder before they can fall. He holds her as she weeps. For the first time in months she no longer has to be the strongest person in the room.

And Fray lets her relinquish that strength and composure, because this is what is best for her now.

#ff14 #wol/zenos #x'shasi #shasinos #fanservice friday #original content #starcunning writes #zenos yae galvus #fray myste

[ladyramora]

Zenos quite enjoyed the occasional excursion.

Though the requirement of a disguise was somewhat bothersome, Zenos could see the point in all of it.

Twouldn't do for all of Eorzea to be made aware of his survival. At least not if Zenos wanted to keep his head.

Still Zenos mused, the woman had taken a fiendish glee in dressing him for these outings. Often providing him with kugane styled clothing - perhaps if only to see the curl of Zenos's lips as he was forced to wear whatever she brought.

Yet it was not without some pleasurable moments. The clear admiration in the woman's gaze as he allowed her examine him was something Zenos found he quite liked.

So he allowed her this. To dress him so in the cloth of a Samurai. A hat tipped low over his face with hair carefully parted to cover his third eye.

Zenos pushes said hat up to scan the crowd, full lips pulling down as he cannot find her.

He spreads his senses out, searching for that certain feeling that only the woman gave off.

He turns his head, eyes narrowing.

Something was amiss.

He makes his way through the crowd that parts for him like so many skittering mice. Prey that intuitively sensed the presence of predator.

He finds her in a darkened corner. Her back to the wall, mismatched eyes wide and hands curled in on herself in a strange defensive posture over her throat that Zenos had never seen her make. A man loomed over her, made taller by the hunching of Ramora's shoulders, his body language conveying an easy confidence that set Zenos's teeth on edge.

The woman was unsettled by this man and that was something that Zenos could not allow.

He lengthens his stride, coming up swift behind.

Ramora spots him then, and the relief on her face is enough to spur Zenos into action.

He grasps the back of the man's kimono, tearing him away from crowding the woman, and raising him up high to shout and struggle as he addresses his confidant.

"You are unharmed?" Zenos drawls in a bored voice. As if he did not care what her answer may be. As if rage did not twist, ugly and hot in his gut. That murderous itch whispering to him: Kill, kill, kill! Rend, tear, destroy! How dare this fool think himself worthy enough to touch her?

"Zenos," The woman breathes his name like he was one of the Twelve himself.

Zenos cups her jaw, eyes narrowing into slits as his bare thumb brushes her lip. Her lipstick was smeared at the corners of her mouth. He had dared...

Zenos shakes the man in his hold, regarding him with a teeth baring sneer. "Who?" He demands in a guttural hiss.

Ramora's lips part, tongue flickering over them, "He's.."

"What the fuck are you!" The man struggling in Zenos's grasp yelps. "Some kind of monster?!"

The man laughs then, a strange unhinged sound that had Ramora tensing up further in a way Zenos did not miss.

"Of course you would shack up with a monster, wouldn't you? Monsters have to stick together, huh Ramora? The duskwight whore and her over-sized beast!" The man spits, his voice sneering her race like it was more of an insult than calling her a whore.

Brave words for a man that Zenos could easily rip in half. In fact...

Ramora's hand darts out, touching the one Zenos hand raised up in preparation to do just that.

Zenos glances at that elegantly taloned hand, looking then into her mismatched eyes with a quirk of his perfectly sculpted blond brow.

Ramora's eyes are different now. Calm. The animal instinct settling down enough for her rational mind to take hold. "Let him down, Zenos."

Zenos tightens his grip as the man dangling from his clutches cackles like a mad man. "Did you hear, monster?! Let me down!"

Zenos curls his lip. "Why."

Ramora cocks her head to the side, her usual wicked grin curling at her painted lips. "Come now, Zenos. You know better than I do that easy prey is simply no fun at all. The hunt is much better, wouldn't you agree?"

Zenos allows his own evil smile to curve his lips. "Oh?" So that was the way of it, hmm? Well, far be it from him to deny her the chase.

He drops the man, watching dispassionately as the elezen fell flat on his face.

"Mmphf!" The man groans into the ground. His hands flying out to scrabble against the earth as if to crawl away.

Zenos places a sandaled foot in the middle of the man's back, chuckling lowly as the smaller elezen man wheezes under the barest of pressure.

Too weak to be worth his while.

Zenos cups a hand over Ramora's jaw, eyes half lidded as he purrs approvingly, "Go on then, my beast. Shall we play cat and mouse?"

Ramora leans into his touch, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek.

Zenos hums, so very tempted to kiss those lips. To erase the traces of any other. So he does.

Ramora sighs as Zenos bends to kiss her, her clawed gloves combing through the golden hair spilling free from its place tucked under the scarf wrapped about Zenos's shoulder's and throat.

Zenos smiles into their kiss as the man gasps under the weight of Zenos's foot.

Ramora pulls away first, grinning hard as she always does when Zenos initiates any sort of contact. It is good to feel wanted, she has said to him more than once.  

A fool of those who do not want her; for even Zenos had eventually succumbed.

Zenos smiles smugly back at her with her lipstick no doubt smeared over his mouth just the same as she.

Ramora steps back, dropping down into a crouch to grasp the man's face with a clawed glove.

"Hello, darling." She murmurs, her way of address sounding sour from her usually sweet tongue. "It's been a long time. How have you been?"

Ramora smiles, grasping the choker at her throat and pulling it off to reveal a jagged scar curving her throat. Once, twice, three times. Crisscrossed over each other. Once hadn't been enough, had it?

"Remember how we left things? 'Twas rather ungentlemanly of you to try to kill me on our last night together. You gave me no chance of a fair fight, see. And to think I was ready to go with you, and leave my life behind!"

Ramora laughs now like the very idea is preposterous.

Zenos's eyes narrow, and he presses down even harder on the man's back.

The man gasps, "Bitch!"

Ramora tsks. "That's not very nice. Here I am greeting you politely when all you have for me are tired insults!"

Ramora tosses back her coat to expose her thighs, reaching into the confines of her shiny leather thigh high, and plucks an ornate dagger from a sheath hidden there.

She holds it up to the light for a moment, smiling serenely. "Do you remember this? A gift from madame Mirime, and the would-be murder weapon."

Ramora lowers the dagger to trace the man's face, smiling sweetly. The man flinches, slicing himself in the process, the blade drawing blood near the corner of his mouth.

Ramora hums, claw tipped thumb rubbing at the spot of crimson.

"To kill me with mine own dagger meant to protect me. How poetic. 'Tis a shame it didn't stick."  

She smears the blood over his lips. Red like the shade of her lipstick.

Zenos's eyes lower in a wash of pleasure. Would she slice this weakling's throat here? Where anyone could see? Mmm. Zenos did so love to see her thirst for blood.

The man bites at her fingers, snarling venomously. "Duskwight scum!"

Ramora frowns, pulling the blade away to wag in his face and tsk disapprovingly.  "Oh dear, how disappointing. I do hope you will have more to say when next we meet. Everything you wish to say, mind, as I intend to cut out that lying, repulsive tongue of yours."

Zenos chuckles at that. Raising his foot up and then kicking the man away. The man hits the wall behind him, wheezing coughs shuddering through him from the force of Zenos's kick. Really, he should be thankful Zenos had held back enough to not snap his spine. If he had one at all, that is.

The man seemed more a coward with every word Ramora spoke.

Ramora smiles at Zenos as he offers her a hand up. Taking his hand and rising to her feet.

She looks over her shoulder at the man where he was still having trouble finding his feet, shaking her head. "You took me by surprise for the last time. It won't happen again."

She waves dismissively. "Go, run. Grow stronger until next we meet."

The man stands shakily, a hand to his ribs. Bruised? Without a doubt. Broken? Highly likely. It was a surprise he could stand at all - Zenos must have held back practically all of his strength.

"What then?" The man growls, hunching in on himself with pained breath.

Ramora's eyes curve up with her incredulous laugh. Looking to Zenos like she could hardly believe such a question. 

"What then?" Ramora grins with too sharp teeth. "I'll kill you, of course!"

She turns to Zenos, dismissing the other man entirely by giving him her back, and tugging at his arm. "I found something that will look positively delicious on you! Come, come, I was in the midst of a purchase before I was rudely interrupted!"

Zenos snorts, allowing Ramora to lead the way with a roll of his eyes. "It better not be anything like the loincloth from last time."

Ramora makes a groaning whine. "Let me dress you!" And leaves him behind in her search for more clothing for him.

Zenos turns his head, committing the man's face to his memory.

He smirks. "Run now, little mouse. I wait eagerly for my beast to catch you in her claws. You will entertain her, will you not?"

The man spits on the ground. "Fuck you!"

Zenos walks away with a mocking laugh. "I do not bed weaklings."

#old stuff I never posted #dude from Ram's past who royally messed her up #Ramora x Zenos #ramnos or zenmora #violence #blood #mentions of attempted murder #hey look I still ship these two #shrugs #might delete later #Zenos cares omahgah #pffft #what even are my tags #I'm sorry you have to look at these one top of my weird writing XD

[sunlitpeony]

entry #19 || the discordant

for prompt #19 || “ battle of wills ”

{ content warning: sort of spoilers for 4.0 }

Back to back they drift in the aetherial sea, seeing nothing but hearing everything here at the heart of this world. Hear. Feel. Think. So bade the voice of the Mothercrystal all these long years, urging Ane down a path she could scarcely have imagined for herself, fighting a war for people not her own over and over again... but were they not her people? Were they not kin of some kind, having been born into this world with all its trials and tribulations? Go forth and shine your light, that voice had told her, so that it might reach all who live and breathe in this realm, and so she had. So she had fought, bled, and sacrificed for them, giving and giving of herself until she came to be here, the point of resonance on the brink of the abyss, teetering on the edge between life and unlife.

“We are just the same, you and I,” speaks the voice at her back, cold and smooth as steel.

“I am nothing like you,” she counters, perhaps with more bitterness than she intends.

“Are you so certain?” he asks, and the cruel smile at his lips gives her cause for concern. Here in this impossible place they meet one last time, and so, against all reason, she listens to everything he has to say. “We have the selfsame power, given to us so that we might stand above ordinary men -- that we might stand tall where they crawl like beasts.”

“Given?” Her voice sounds angrily in the vastness of the sea, in this space with no boundaries. “Yours was taken from those it was truly given to!”

Like a smile practiced in a broken mirror, his laughter unsettles her. For all the joy she hears in it, something is missing in its sound and shape, and it chills her to the bone. He laughs as the very wild beasts he delights in hunting, as someone who is no longer a man -- and, perhaps, never was to begin with.

“How right you are,” he responds, and the self-satisfaction with which he speaks makes her soul quake in rage. “Taken from those who were undeserving. If they could not keep it, it was not theirs to have in the first place. A pity -- those who are weak forfeit their right to such power.”

Distant voices cannot reach them here, insulated as they are against the rest of time and space. Their bodies lay dying in a bed of crimson and cream petals, too wounded and weary to recover from the clash of their ideals. His voice echoes in a distant corner of her mind, a fragment of a memory from her last moments of consciousness. Absent is the stony composure with which he always spoke, and in its place she remembers his anguished cry.

‘Why will you not fight back?!’ he had demanded, infuriated by her unshakeable song that unraveled the primal soul by stolen soul. So all the ghosts had stood in the garden to judge him, to bear witness to the fall of Zenos yae Galvus at long last. That same question stands between them now, only just keeping their backs from touching together.

“How does it feel,” she finally ventures, “to be undone by someone so much weaker than you?”

“You defeated me,” comes his quick reply, and in its immediacy she hears his doubt. “You are the stronger between us.”

“But I am not,” she muses with a faint smile, turning her head up towards a sun that no longer shines down on her. “I am just as weak as any other.”

All that has ever made her strong has only ever been because of all that has ever made her weak. There would ever be those who looked on her and only ever saw her weakness, but just the same there would be others who instead saw her strength. It did not mean besting another in mortal combat, did not mean raising a hand in violence, did not mean standing alone atop a bloodied battlefield. Zenos did not understand that, but it was not her place to make him. And yet, even so...

“You denied me my final hunt,” he says, bringing her up out of the depths of her wonderings. “I would ask you tell me why.”

Echoing screams haunt her in the dark hours of the morning, cries for mercy and for deliverance. So fell all who fought at the Wall that night, calling to gods in their final despairing moments. They will never go away, not for her, and all because men like him see others only for their personal gain. Ilberd sought to use the lives of his countrymen to rain calamity down upon Garlemald, and Zenos sought to use that selfsame primal for his own amusement. Desperate people lived and died to see their land freed once more. She would not see their anguished souls forged into a weapon of war.

“Because I deny you,” echoes her soft voice. “I will always deny you.”

#FFxivWrite2017 #;; I say 'sort of' because it mentions things that happen but also lots of things that don't #;; kind of goes off the canon divergent end of things and writes a mostly symbolic encounter #;; don't ever let me write for Zenos ever again thanks

[heyymonkey2]

First Night Back in Fuuga Ch 36: What I Saw in the Distance

AO3 Link to Chapter 36

Summary: Truths, new and old, come into focus

Yona zips between tree trunks, her cloak flowing out behind her. Though her breathing is heavy, her smile gives away the game--

--Hak follows after the giggles with powerful strides from tree to tree. He could catch up in an instant, but he prefers to… he stops and watches her bound ahead, then with a wry smile he slips off to the right.

Yona slows as her laughing grows. She can’t help it -- she looks back over her shoulder to see him…

But there’s only the forest.

Puzzled, she turns forward again--

“Ah!�� She’s been tackled.

Hak gracefully lands them on his back, she safely atop him. He holds her tightly as he goes on--

“Isn’t it my line to make a joke, then run away? And what did you just say about my breakfast?”

Yona is laughing into his chest as she tries to get words out, “Pff... you never run away… you just stand there and I hit you.”

Hak nods concession there.

“I wasn’t joking about breakfast.”

The shock on Hak’s face…

“It’s not your fault!” Yona amends, “It’s the pregnancy. Your child may have good taste…”

Hak takes that on the chin, then, “Oh? And so it’s also good to run through the woods like a wild animal for the pregnancy?”

A corner of Yona’s mouth curls up, “You weren’t complaining about me being a wild animal last night.”

Hak lets out a breath as he smiles, “You drive me mad,” shaking his head, “I love you. I love everything about you.”

“I like giving you a hard time. You always end up right there.”

Tracing his fingers over her lower back as he stares into her great amethyst eyes, “Trust me, I’m always there.”

Yona’s blushes ever-so-slightly -- those lovestruck blue eyes still affect her right back -- then she glances up toward the palace high above them, just beyond a clearing, “I’m really going to need you today. At my side.”

Hak watches her curiously, “You’ve got it. ...are you worried?”

“A little. I haven’t talked to Lili.”

Hak begins pulling them up, “Then let’s get you back.”

Yona rises, her hand in his, and she looks up at him bittersweetly.

Back. Where last night ends and today begins. The moment their new journey must start -- to infuse everything good and right that last night represented into their reign here from the palace. She and Hak agreed to reach for coronation, to ask the generals today to officially give them their support. Even though Yona is not like her father or Soo-Won. The generals will have to have faith in the royal blood that flows through her veins and that ruling this kingdom is her fate. That she and Hak will find balance.

Believe in us. Yona is deep in thought when she feels Hak stop.

Up ahead she sees it -- half a dozen Sky Tribe soldiers where they shouldn’t be. A messenger being sent off.

Yona can feel how tense Hak is, “Don’t you dare,” she begs, “You’re not armed, Hak!”

“Don’t move. I’ll handle this -- be right back.”

Yona reaches to grab him, but he’s already long gone.

All six warriors turn. Hak has the messenger pinned not far away.

The resulting fear on the warriors’ faces says everything. Something has been seen that should not have been. And one way or another, there will be blood now.

They reluctantly draw their swords.

The vision of Yona’s reaction…

“Yona!” Soo-Won bolts upright, sweating, shivers of terror down his spine.

He glances to the side in the dark room, his home since the war with Kai.

And there he is, his companion -- Ik-Soo… sleeping like a baby... who drools.

Soo-Won stares at this roommate, I have these nightmares every night and he sleeps through them all? As always, he’s either impressive or an idiot.

Ik-Soo wakes from Soo-Won’s prodding, “...eh? What is it?”

“I saw it again. It was… more intense this time,” Soo-Won rubs a temple, “We’re not advancing fast enough. I’m ready to begin for the day.”

Ik-Soo sits up, “It feels strange starting a lesson in patience at this hour.”

Soo-Won sighs, “I’ll never understand how people can spend so much time sleeping.”

“Not everyone has nightmares.”

Ik-Soo has Soo-Won outside filling water buckets at a well and bringing them back to the village for the elderly keeper of the bathhouse, Mitsuko.

Soo-Won eventually asks Ik-Soo to sit and watch as opposed to walking with him -- the dark has been doing nothing to help Ik-Soo’s coordination.

It’s tedious work for Soo-Won. He’s a strong man, it’s no physical bother. However, he’s used to the highest and best use of his abilities and this is just not it. Eventually he finds it easier to pass the time by letting his mind wander.

It took a while in this place before he was able to allow this. He had been afraid. For the longest time, his mind would only wander to dark places. To take a closer look at what hurt so badly inside. How wrong he’d been. How terrible he was. But one can’t live like that. And Soo-Won has been in a place where the people have no intention of letting him die. Or leave.

Once he accepted that, his mind started wandering somewhere more constructive and very natural to him -- manipulation. How could he, in this situation, achieve something meaningful? That’s when the nightmares started. And that’s when he knew -- if there was any truth in the prophecy about Yona, then this was the message sent that he could choose to or not to act on. His part to play. His meaning.

And that is where his mind always wanders in a free moment now. How to reach Yona. He is going to save Yona and Hak. From a danger within the palace he knows far too well.

“Oh!” Soo-Won nearly tramples Mitsuko as he delivers the final bucket of water.

“My apologies, Mitsuko-san,” Soo-Won quickly sets down the container as he helps her regain her balance, “I’m not myself today."

“It’s alright, my dear,” the white-haired, pock-faced grandma offers, “I like this you today. Your face just now was like the water you’ve been fetching me -- still and clear.”

Soo-Won wonders about that.

“...if you were thinking about one of our beautiful young maidens to marry, let Grandmother help you,” she winks.

Soo-Won smiles as he innocently scratches the back of his head.

“Thank you for your hard work this morning,” Ik-Soo moves to Soo-Won's side to save him, “Join me for a walk?”

Ik-Soo and Soo-Won sit at the familiar pool of water in the forest.

“I need to speak with her,” Soo-Won gets right to it.

“That is not up to you or me," Ik-Soo glances up toward the sky.

“Then allow me to try… and the ‘fate’ you believe so firmly in will still do what it chooses.”

Ik-Soo glances in Soo-Won’s direction, “I can’t let you leave yet.”

“The dragons,” Soo-Won suggests, “Let them take a message to her for me.”

Ik-Soo nods, realizing it's time he let Zeno and Kija return to Yona’s side, “Alright. A message -- though it must be her choice what to do with it.”

Ik-Soo can feel Soo-Won absorb that opportunity -- his relief and hope. And Ik-Soo himself accepts: it’s time to begin to tell this young man the truth that was always kept from him.

“Your father, too, suffered from his choices. In politics and war.”

Affronted, Soo-Won corrects, “He was a proud warrior who did what had to be done for this country.”

“That sentence won't bring you closer to the truth," Ik-Soo laments, "Your father suffered, but he did heal, Soo-Won.”

Soo-Won’s mind is rejecting the words -- what does this man mean?! -- and yet, a calm washes over his heart that gives him a peace that has tears in his eyes.

“You’re often thinking about her, I can see it. You know Yona is special. You may have been too young to know it, but her mother also had the same gift in changing hearts.”

Again, Soo-Won cannot mentally process the words, and yet his heart accepts them with ease. As though they were a pure truth that couldn’t be denied, clicking into place.

“After what happened with Xing. The slaughter. Many things came to pass. All of which are known today as a different story. I don’t know which to tell you first.”

A crushing realization falls on Soo-Won. All of which are known today as a different story? No... no... it can't be possible. If that's true, then... “The dragons. I need to reach Yona. Immediately.”

“Trust the gods. There are forces protecting her.”

Soo-Won, trying to keep calm, but still processing, “If my father ‘healed,’ as you say, then why did King Il murder him?”

Ik-Soo looks out over the still, clear water, “He didn’t.”

Lili stands on one of the palace’s many bridges, her chin cupped in a hand. She’s been watching something in the distance. The look on her face both troubled and warmed.

In a courtyard next to a fountain, Jae-Ha plays his erhu -- beautiful, calming music filling the stone, flower-lined expanse.

He hears her coming and can’t help but joke as she arrives, “I’ve never liked being pursued. It takes away all the fun.”

Lili’s cheeks go pink, “Don’t get the wrong idea because I keep coming to you looking for Yona. I only like older men.”

Jae-Ha stops playing and considers, then turns to look at her, “I am older.”

“No, I mean like way older. Like General Geun-Tae,” Lili saves.

Jae-Ha chuckles, “That’s your type? Then I’m safe. That man may be my complete opposite.”

As Jae-Ha turns back to his instrument, Lili sits on the ledge of the fountain, micro-cringing at how awkward she’s being.

“...how old are you, by the way?”

“Not your type,” Jae-Ha explains, “Although, it seems you go younger if it’s women…”

Lili frowns, “You shouldn’t tease me about that when you’re in love with her, too,” and somehow that stings them both a little.

“I’m sorry,” Lili is cringing again, unsure of what to do with her hands, her loud mouth, anything right now.

“It’s OK, Dear,” Jae-Ha admits, “It’s true.”

“...when I first met you, you seemed like a player. Always flirting with women and wandering off. What I’m trying to say is… I’m impressed that you love her. Because I can tell you really do.”

“She wasn’t the first.”

Lili’s head snaps around -- she faces him in shock, “Who?!”

Jae-Ha laughs at this girl’s intense interest, “A pirate.”

Lili’s eyes become wide orbs of wonder and Jae-Ha realizes he just had the opposite effect he was going for.

“A pirate? ...tell me, do you have a type then? Was she like Yona, too?”

Jae-Ha considers, “It would appear I’m taken with strong women.”

“How dare you raise your swords at him!”

Yona marches out of the woods toward the men. She just caught a glimpse of something beyond them in the distance -- and if she's put her hope in the right place, then what happens next will mark the beginning of change at this palace.

#akatsuki no yona #fanfic #hak x yona #first night back in fuuga #yona of the dawn

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 13 - Be(e) Mine

Varis’ lips press into a thin line as the Emissary strides toward you. Even his walk is smooth, his gait even and balanced, looking close to a saunter. His red eyes ensnare you, leaving you unable to look anywhere else but him.

And he knows it.

“I presume this to be her, correct?” the Emissary asks, coming to a stop a respectable distance away from you.

“Yes.” Varis answers, coming to stand nearby, clearly displeased.

The Emissary seems to pay little attention to Varis’ annoyed tone, choosing to extend his hand out in an offer to shake it. “A pleasure to meet you…”

“Honey.” You shake his hand firmly, surprised that for how thin he looks, he has a fairly strong grip. Continuing to hold your hand, his lips tweak into a gentle smile.

“What a lovely name.” The Emissary replies, the compliment sounding entirely genuine. You hope he can’t see the light blush rise to your cheeks.

Your eyes drift over to a nearby clock, catching the time. “I appreciate the compliments. Unfortunately, I do have some other business…” you trail off, giving your hand a light tug. He holds fast for a beat longer before finally loosening his grip, but not before turning your palm downwards to bring your hand to his lips to kiss the back of your hand.

“Professional, lovely, and diligent...your son has made quite the find, hasn’t he Varis?” The words are practically purred against your skin as the Emissary lowers his lashes at you.

“Indeed she is…” Varis murmurs, and his tone makes you break your stare off with the Emissary, not liking the predatory gleam in his golden eyes.

“Very well. I won’t hold you any longer, and let you attend to your duties.”

As he releases your hand, you do your best to not snatch it back to you, remaining cool and composed as you give the Emissary a hesitant smile. “Thank you…?”

“Elidibus.” He purrs, grinning like a cat. “I will be seeing you at dinner.” It was a statement, not an inquiry, and you quickly jolted your eyes to Varis. The CEO looked just as surprised as you, the predatory look fading for but a moment.

“I suppose you will.” You answer, not bothering to hide the confusion in your voice, but unwilling to stay any longer. Turning away you make your way to the kitchen, hoping you hadn’t kept Lyngsath waiting for too long.

“Sleepin’ in?” Lyngsath greets as you stroll in, already holding your plate of breakfast for you.

“Mornin’ Lyngsath.” You beam, taking a seat at a nearby table as he sets the plate down in front of you.A spread of various mouth watering fruit sits before you, paired with some eggs and toast. Saying your thanks, you dig right in. “I was held up by an, uh, guest?”

“Ah, the Emissary?” Lyngsath booms, though he doesn’t need to. His throaty voice easily carries over the sizzle of meat and clanging of pots. “What an honor! He has visited before, he is a most gracious guest. Lord Varis has us prepare Garlean cuisine for his arrival.”

Your eyebrow raises at that. “Garlean cuisine? Why?”

“Did you not know? He is the Prime Minister of Garlemald!”

"Garlemald? But he doesn't have a third eye…" you murmur in confusion.

"Aye! Which makes his position all the more impressive!"

You nearly drop your spoon at that, eyes surely bulging out of your head. You couldn’t believe you had so casually met a Prime Minister, and of Garlemald no less…

Which leads you to wonder, just what is the relationship between a CEO far from home and home’s Prime Minister? Of course it’s not unheard of for people in positions of power to mingle with one another; Lord Hien is known for being quite good friends with Gosetsu, a world renowned swordsmith and craftsman. However, thinking back on Varis’ tone when speaking with the Emissary, it leads you to believe that their relationship is far from chummy.

Speaking of Varis…

Handing your plate to the dishwasher, you make your way to the gym where Zenos awaits, thinking over his father’s unsettling stare. For someone who thought you worse than dirt, he seemed to pay special attention to you, or maybe he was merely making sure you wouldn’t step out of line in front of such prestigious company. Did he have anything close to a conscience that let him see he should afford you some respect for saving his life? It was the only reason that made sense from what you could tell.

“You are late.”

You don’t miss a beat as you head to put your things down as usual, seeing that Zenos has already finished his morning meditation.

“I slept in a little.” You lie, beginning your stretches. His eyes haven’t left you, focused hard, judging.

“Were you stopped by someone?” He asks, eyes narrowing as you flinch guiltily. “Who?”

“The Emissary.” You mumble under your breath, cutting your eyes away as you find the weights on the other wall suddenly riveting. “All he did was say hello, and thank me for saving you and your dad.” You answer truthfully, bending to reach your toes.

“That’s all?” Zenos questions. Really, you wonder if he had some built in lie detector or something on you.

“And...he also invited me to dinner later.” You mumble as quickly as possible.

“He did? Not my father?” Zenos presses, crouching down to pull you out of your stretch. His face is strangely serious, almost calculating.

“Yes. I believe to thank me for saving you and your dad.” You tell him, jumping as his grip on you tightens for a brief moment.

“Father.” He corrects while looking down at you, and you nod slowly. Standing to his full height, he seems to stare hard at nothing for a moment. “Continue your stretches. I’ve already finished warming up.”

Biting down on your lip, you watch as he seems to resist the urge to pace. Outwardly he doesn’t look too concerned, but you’ve been around him enough by this point to see that something is genuinely bothering him. If someone as immovable as him seems put out, perhaps you should be too. “Should I be worried?” You hazard, knowing full well he could either respond with sass or fury.

He pauses his musing to look at you, frost blue eyes shimmering as he mulls over his words. “Worried? Certainly not.” He huffs, the hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, but his brows furrow further. “If what is happening, is happening, it will be my problem; not yours.”

Frowning, you stand to your feet, beginning your arm stretches. “But I’m your bodyguard right? So if it’s your problem, pretty sure it’s mine too.” You counter, watching a single blonde eyebrow arch, before his lips curl into a full on smirk.

“Yes...you are mine, aren’t you?” He purrs, so deep and silky that for a moment you almost ignore what it was he said.

“I am your bodyguard, yes.” You correct, sticking your tongue out at him, not caring how childish you may look.

“I’d put that away unless you plan to use it, my beast.” He croons, eyes half lidded, and your tongue snaps back in your mouth like an old cartoon, staring wide eyed at your boss. Even in the stark, white light, his eyes glimmer darkly, a myriad of emotion swimming through them. A tension seems to fall upon the room under his hooded stare, growing more oppressive as he crosses over to you.

Standing before you, he shifts his weight to one leg, a hand slowly reaching out to take a lock of your hair between two fingers. Twirling the strands between them, his eyes slide to yours, half lidded. “Deny it all you like, my beast. You are mine, and mine alone, no matter how much you may hate me. Until you breathe your last breath, I never intend to let you go.”

Scoffing, you jerk slightly to pull the strands from his fingers, and he allows it. “Those words would almost be romantic if they weren’t said by a sociopath such as yourself.” You snarl, glaring hotly up at him, wishing anything you did would faze him. “I belong to no one, Zenos.”

He laughs, bending down into your space, and out of sheer spite do you not cow before him as he enters it. You feel the ends of his long, blonde hair tickle your skin, feel his cool breath ghost across your face. “Is it so wrong to belong? Do I not belong to you?”

Your brain halts at that statement, caught off guard. Zenos smirks, pressing even closer, your foot taking you backwards as to not have his lips meet your own. Zenos follows, step for step. “Have you not given me the challenge I’ve craved my entire life? Who else has been strong enough to sharpen my blade as I have sharpened theirs?” He asks, and you find you have no answer. You grunt as you nearly trip backwards over equipment, Zenos’ arm rushing out to grab your own and pull you close to him.

“I am hated by far too many than I care to keep count for. But you, my beast…” He purrs, arm snaking around your waist, holding you close as he once again leans into your space, “No one has challenged me as you have. You are in my thoughts every waking moment, the highlight of an otherwise dull and dreary day.” Pressed between him and the wall, you pray he cannot hear how your heart races inside your chest, how your face flushes red as he tries to press closer still.

“Do I not belong to you as well? She, who hates me with such ferocity, she, who does not cow before what could be certain death. Where others would bend and break, you tower over me with your might.” He praises, voice but a harsh whisper as if he is trying to convince you. “It is why I do not care how you spit and curse at me. Am I not yours to treat how you see fit?”

You don’t know what to say.

That Zenos thought you his own property was certain, but the knowledge that he thought him your property left you more than speechless.

That the son of one of the richest men living in Kugane would think himself beneath you.

That the man who would have men and women alike throwing themselves at his feet...

That the man who demanded respect by just walking in a room would let you flip him over your shoulder, snark and snap at him as if he was a bum off the street…

“I do not want you to be mine.” You murmur softly, meeting his gaze head on, unafraid.

“You do not have a choice.” He responds, not missing a beat, lips curling into a smirk. “Your survival depends on my protection. I will not suffer to see my father take yet another one of my bodyguards away from me.” He rumbles, voice low and threatening like the beginning of a summer storm. “And if you think I am unforgiving,...you would not last a day underneath my father.”

Swallowing thickly, you nod, hearing the genuine promise in his voice.

As he pulls away, you can’t help but gaze up at him, your heart still thudding in your chest. Smart as he was, what a fool he must be to be so enamored with you to let you treat him the way he does. Would he feel betrayed when you finally turned him in for his crimes along with his father?

Bile fills your throat for a brief moment, hand flying to your mouth as Zenos turns around to head back to the center of the room. Frowning, you bite down hard on your lip at the conflicting feelings in your chest, deciding not to think too hard on them for now. It is instead time to focus on your daily training, to prepare for the rest of the day.

You try to keep the thought of meeting with the Emissary at bay; he had seemed pleasant enough. Though you can’t say you at all expected for the voice of the world leader to pour out like ichor; for his unreadable, ruby gaze to land upon you, making you feel so much...younger than he. There was a wisdom to him that you couldn’t put your finger on, and you hoped to perhaps find more out at the looming dinner.

As the day passes on you begin thinking harder and harder on the dinner. It dawns on you much later how many important people will be at this table: a CEO, a dignitary (the dignitary) of Garlemald, and the son of the aforementioned CEO. Men who were all highly educated, incredibly rich, and unbearably snooty. It made you feel like you had walked out the boonies.

Would you be given something to wear? Was it that important? Would it be an actual dress?

“I can tell from the look on your face you are thinking much too hard about tonight.”

Your eyes slowly slide over from your place on one of the chairs to Zenos, who is sitting at his desk, flipping through stacks of paper, expression bored, but focused. “What’s on your mind?” he sighs, grabbing a fine ink pen to scribble something on a paper.

Deciding to humor him, you kick your legs over the arm of the chair, relaxing against the other. “It just occurred to me how many important people are going to be at this dinner.” You answer, deciding not to elaborate on your feelings.

His scoff is clearly heard across his spacious office. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?” He teases, making another few choice marks on the paper. You frown at how he pegged you so easily, rolling your eyes as you stare at the mirrored ceiling.

“Hardly. Who needs to be embarrassed with skills like mine?” You retort, idly kicking your feet as you stare at your reflection. “I just wonder how I got here; a street rat as you so affectionately called me, coming to sit with a CEO, a foreign world leader, and the CEO’s son. Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed…” You trail off, noticing Zenos has stopped scribbling away at whatever he was doing. “I can’t be so important right? Like, what does a whole ass world leader want with me, to come overseas just to give a thank you for saving some of his citizens in person? Unless…”

Unless you are important to him.

The thought gives you pause. While it wasn’t unheard of for some world leaders to be buddy buddy with some successful businessmen, most tried to keep from being in the public eye too much lest some sort of collusion would begin to be suspected. Despite being one of the most prominent figures within Kugane, very little was actually known about Varis: who he interacted with, his family, hells, even some doubted the truth of his origins.

“I too, wonder at Elidibus’ reasoning for coming over…” You hear Zenos murmur, returning back to writing, though at a slower pace. His brows are furrowed in concentration, as if he’s trying to make sense of the situation himself.

“Does he not visit often?” You ask with a shrug.

“No. In fact, the last reason he visited was only when my father’s tower was completed, and that was over four years ago. He does not oft visit my father. Whether it is due to his own responsibilities as the Emissary, or his own personal reasons, I do not know.” He sighs, neatly settling the papers and stacking them at the corner of his desk.

“Are he and your father like...friends?” The thought of anyone wanting to be Varis’ friend seems nigh impossible, but due to your job you can’t ignore the possibility.

“If they are friends, I wouldn’t know anything about it.” You turn your head to watch him recline in his high backed chair, leveling you with a neutral expression. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, my beast, I have little to no desire to poke around my father’s personal affairs. So long as it does not affect my own life, I care little for what he does.”

You can’t stop your frown. You wonder what could’ve happened in his upbringing to cause such a dramatic rift; one so wide that you genuinely doubt there would be any healing for it. Zenos did not even hate his father; he merely felt nothing but unending apathy for him. Curiosity nagged in the back of your mind, wanting to know more about him, his family, why he was the way he was.

Never once did it cross your mind to ask in an attempt to dig for information. You wanted to know purely because you wanted to know.

“Either way, you have nothing to worry about. If anything, my father is just looking for an excuse to try and talk to you.” He sighs, the anger barely restrained in his voice.

Sitting up now, you meet his gaze head on. “Talk to me? I thought--”

“What is the reason Elidibus has invited you to dinner, Honey?” He cuts you off, eyes hard.

“To thank me for saving you and your father--”

“And what did I tell you would keep you from escaping my father’s notice?” He interrupts once more, his fists clenched tightly.

Dread seeps into your very bones as you realize what he’s getting at.

“My father has no use for anyone who is not willing to kill or be killed for him.” He hisses, his next words draining the color from your face. “By killing Lambard in order to save us, you just put yourself in his sights.”

It seemed if you excelled in anything, it was getting in deeper trouble than you were already in.

You tried not to blame yourself too heavily. You couldn’t fail your job by letting Zenos and Varis die; death would be too easy of an escape for all the crimes they’ve committed. Your hand had been forced; you had no other way to ensure their survival aside from ending Lambard’s life.

As much as you tell yourself that, the nightmares still plague you.

“Can I count on your father to behave himself?” You ask, staring out the window of the backseat of the car, watching as the city fades away into upper end housing.

Zenos arches a strong brow. “Behave?” He questions.

“If he calls me a savage, I’m decking him right in his fucking face.” You snarl, glaring at him fiercely as he barks out a laugh.

“As enjoyable a sight as that sounds, I can’t say I can predict how he’ll act. As I had said, I don’t know the nature of their relationship, but I’ve seen them around each other enough to hazard that my father will...behave like you wish.” His lips curl into a fierce smirk. “He must answer to the Emissary after all. And I will say Elidibus is certainly more sensitive.” He snorts derisively.

Tutting, you jab a finger sharply into his shoulder. “You could stand to be more sensitive.” You sneer, making sure to draw out every syllable of the word. You freeze as Zenos grabs your hand in his, holding tightly, but not so much you could not pull away if you wanted.

“Could I?” He purrs, thumb tracing nonsensical patterns on the back of your hand. His touch is like fire despite the crystalline gaze of his frigid blue eyes, each motion sending sparks along your skin. “I think you’ll find parts of me are certainly more sensitive than most, my beast.”

Flushing deeply, you stammer, unsure of what to say in the face of such an obvious innuendo. Quickly, you regain your cool. “I thought you said you did not mix business with pleasure.” You hiss, snatching your hand away, unconsciously pressing yourself against the opposite door for good measure.

“So I did.” He chuckles lowly, gaze half lidded. “Though I will say, it is certainly a stance I’ve considered...reevaluating.” His voice rumbles low and thick, so much so that you know you would’ve felt it if you continued to let him hold your hand. Unsure what to say, you mumble something about “lying rich boys” and refocus on the houses passing by, doing your best to ignore the satisfied air you know lurks right behind you.

Pulling up to the house, both you and Zenos exit the car, your eyes barely catching Ardbert's look of worry. You toss him an easy going smile over your shoulder, one that tells him not to worry. You may be in Varis' sights now, but you'll be damned before you ever worked under him. "Do I have to change into something nice?" you ask Zenos, opening the front door for him so that you two may step inside. Your dinners were often taken alone in a separate dining room while Zenos and Varis ate in the main one.

"I would suggest you change into something light and...appropriate. It's not a formal dinner, but as you had said before, you are in esteemed company." He answers truthfully, pausing as he reaches the spiraling staircase to the upper floors. "Dress modestly, comfortably."

Nodding you head to your own rooms to get out of your uniform and shower. You decide to not read too deep about his "modest" comment; if anything it was a genuine suggestion aa you were about to dine with a dignitary. You'd have to wear something that was already given to you upon your move here; no way any of the clothes you picked would be anywhere decent enough.

You decide to pick a floral top, not afraid to add a little feminine flair. Pink flowers trail across sheer black material, you modesty protected with the satin undershirt. You pair it with some fairly dressy jeans, the material smooth and obviously designer, but still casual so that you don’t look like you’re trying too hard. You glance back at the vanity in the bathroom for the moment, debating on at the very least putting on some mascara or some eyeliner, but decide against it. It was just a simple dinner, and you had no one to impress.

Stepping out your room, you take a calming breath, the mansion quieter with the day almost done. In a last minute decision you decided to go with some modest heels instead of flats, accentuating the line of your legs as your heels click on the immaculate tile floor once you begin making your way down the hall. You’ve brushed your hair to where you pray it looks presentable, having not nearly enough time to pull it into something fancy. A few housekeepers take note of your attire, some even whistling in jest as you stroll down the hall. It was well known that once you got home you usually threw on a t-shirt and shorts, scarfed down your dinner, and hid out in your room for the rest of the night.

Now, their second glances make you feel terribly self conscious.

Reaching the door to the dining hall, you pause. They know you’re outside obviously; your heels signaled your approach. Even still, you take the time to hesitate, worrying your lip for a moment before you take a deep breath and press down on the still bent door handle.

Immediately all eyes land on you, and you give a small bow. “Good evening.” You greet, eyeing the remaining chairs at the table. Varis sits at the head, Elidibus to his left and Zenos to his right. Instinct demands you sit at the opposite end, but that’s a power move you don’t want to play right now.

“Good evening.” Elidibus returns with a warm smile, his voice floating over to you like a gentle cloud. “Please, take a seat wherever you wish.” He offers.

Giving him a small smile of thanks, you decide to play it safe and sit next to Zenos and opposite of Elidibus. If Varis does try to start shit, Zenos hopefully would make a good buffer and stop you before you jeopardized your mission. Sitting next to the Emissary also wasn’t an option, not being nearly enough familiar, not wanting to offend.

Taking your seat in the high backed chair, you eye the many forks and spoons before you. Mentally you groan; you didn’t think rich people actually ate like this. They are all made of real silver, that much is obvious.

“Worry not about any high class etiquette tonight--” Elidibus purrs, his lips curled into a smile, “--most of them are for show anyway. Varis has always been one to flaunt his wealth.”

Unsure if that was a barb or not, you prepare to respond but Varis beats you to it. “One should show their hard earned possessions.” He huffs haughtily, golden eyes fixated on you. Keeping your expression neutral is a challenge in itself, meeting his gaze unafraid. “Also I believe that this is my dining room that you’re playing host in.”

“Indeed it is. My apologies.” Elidibus chuckles, and suddenly things feel tense.

Your eyes slide to Zenos for a moment for any kind of clue, but he stares off into the distance, bored. No help from him then.

“In that case, let me chat as a guest. I regret not being able to spend more time with you earlier this morning.” Elidibus says as he leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers in his lap. “Had I known your morning was already taken up by young Zenos, I would have requested your time earlier. Varis seemed to leave out that tidbit.”

“Ah, forgive me then.” You titter nervously, feeling like a sheep in a den of wolves. It was one thing to win a fist fight, but a fight of words, of cunning and skill and never saying what you mean… that is where you were sorely outmatched. “Ever since I began my employment here, I have trained with Zenos at daybreak.”

“Zenos?” Elidibus echoes, red eyes sparkling like rubies. “You two are so...familiar?”

Your eyes dart to the aforementioned man who is now looking back at you. You can feel your face heat up under his scrutiny, despite his father and a whole ass dignitary being in the room. “I suppose we have become more casual, as time has gone on?” You wince at how your voice ticks upwards with uncertainty, daring to take a glance at the man across the table.

“I see. No wonder you were so...vicious in saving young Zenos and his father.” It is worded as a statement, but it is almost as if he is musing to himself out loud. “I have only heard bits and pieces of the tale; would you mind regaling me in the details?”

“She will not.”

Zenos has spoken for the first time since you had entered the room, his icy gaze settled on the Emissary. Elidibus doesn’t look fazed by Zenos’ warning stare, though unlike Varis, he merely looks amused. “Oh?”

“Mind your tongue, boy.” Varis warns, and Zenos’ glare turns downright murderous as he stares down his father. Varis doesn’t flinch, unblinking as he steps in to reprimand his son. You resist the urge to just slink under the table and slide out the door, your nerves frazzled beyond belief and you’re positive you’ve only been in the room no more than ten minutes.

“It is fine, let him speak. She is his charge after all…” His stress on being his does not escape your notice, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as his ruby eyes twinkle with unsaid plans. So occupied with his jewel like eyes, you do not notice Varis’ perpetual frown somehow deepening.

“If you are lacking in details, Emissary, there is a reason for such. If you are truly so curious, I’m sure my father can avail you of the details privately.” His voice is like steel, seeming almost non-threatening to anyone who doesn’t know him, but you can hear the threat in his voice.

“This is certainly true, young Zenos. I did not mean to overstep my bounds.” Elidibus offers diplomatically. You don’t doubt Zenos seeing it for what it is, but it seems to placate him for the time being. “Though I must wonder, will you be keeping such skill to yourself?”

“Of course.” Zenos answers with zero hesitation. “Father has enough guards; he had hounded me to get one of my own, and now I have her.”

“I see.” Elidibus murmurs, once again musing aloud. He seems to be digging for clues, but clues for what? What are his plans?

Maybe it was time to start asking questions of your own.

“If I may be so bold,” you begin, “you’ve been awfully curious about me, Emissary, while I am ashamed to say I don’t know much about yourself.”

You’ve clearly caught him off guard, surprise shining in his eyes for a moment before a genuine respect shines in them. “I am not one to praise myself, Miss…”

“Honey is fine, remember?” you advise, not at all liking the idea of being called Miss Honey.

“Indeed. I try not to make a habit of talking about myself, especially due to my position, but I will do my best to answer any questions you may have.”

Nodding, you do your best to phrase your next question carefully. “I have to say I was pretty surprised to see a Garlean dignitary here, in Lord Varis’ home no less. Are you perhaps old friends?”

Elidibus lets out a rich laugh at that, the sound pleasant and smooth like whiskey. “If we are anything, it is colleagues. We met when we were younger, just starting to break out into the world. Since then, we have kept up with each other’s life events. I was there for Zenos’ birth, and the unfortunate death of his mother.”

An incredibly safe answer from what you could tell. “I see. Then I suppose it makes sense why you would come to visit after such a...life threatening situation.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment the door to the kitchen opens, Lyngsath’s bulk crowding through. “Good evening, Emissary! It is an honor to host you once again!” he booms, pearly white teeth twinkling in the low light from the chandelier. With that, it seems questions are to be put on hold as dinner is served.

Your suspicions about the family eating better than you are confirmed; everything put before you looks amazing. Not that you’re fed absolute gruel, but the mole loaf placed before you has gravy on it. Gravy! Such frivolities were excluded from your diet (thanks to Zenos) and you did your best to not look like a pig as you savored each bite. You were tempted to ask for seconds but didn’t want to push your luck, sensing that Zenos might give you an earful of maintaining peak physical form. It made no sense he ate like this every night and wasn’t restricting his own diet.

“I believe I will be retiring for tonight.” Zenos dabs at his lips gently with a cloth napkin, gently pushing his chair away from the table to stand. You glance at your plate, still a bit hungry, hoping that now with Zenos gone, you can sneak into the kitchen and tell Lyngsath to save any leftovers for later.

“Come, Honey. We must rest for tomorrow.”

Goddammit.

“It seems we must part for now. Thank you for your company, Honey.” Elidibus croons, your name sounding like silk passing his lips, the rich baritone of his voice making you shiver. You throw a cautious glance at Zenos who is glaring daggers at the Emissary and decide to expedite your exit.

“A pleasure to meet you as well, I am not often in such good company. I wish you safe travels,”

“Ah, ah. I will remain here in Hingashi for a while yet. It’s been some time since I’ve been able to relax. Hopefully, we will have time to get more acquainted with one another?” He’s pretty much backed you into a corner with a yes or no question, so you pray a carefully crafted “maybe” won’t offend.

“So long as I have the time. As you’ve heard, protecting these men is very busy work.” Your voice betrays none of your feelings as you stand from the table, moving to the door where Zenos stands.

“So they are. Good night, Honey.” Elidibus grins, raising his wine glass to you.

“Good night.” You wave, stepping out the door into the hallway, Zenos close behind. It is quiet for a few moments as you do your best to casually look over your shoulder. He’s shrouded in shadow in the dark hallway, the blue glow of the moonlight softening his otherwise sharp features, though the way his crystal blue eyes catch the light, he still looks more beast than man. “Well. See you in the morning…” you trail off, giving him a little wave as you begin to walk away.

“And just where are you going?” He asks, amusement dancing alongside the venom in his voice.

“Oh, nowhere. I was just gonna...uh…” you suddenly blank on every other room that is in the direction of the kitchen. “...go out into the garden for awhile.” you lie.

He doesn’t buy it. “Oh? So eager to take a dip in the fountain again?” he taunts, his eyes predatory but there is a...different edge to them somehow. His steps to close the distance between you feel almost like a prowl, keeping you rooted there, unmoving.

“Hardly.” you scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “What’s it to you anyway? I’m off duty as soon as we come in this house. You said so yourself. What I do on my own time is no business of yours.” you snarl, to which the Garlean looks somewhat unsettled for a brief moment before quiet fury rolls off him in waves.

“Perhaps it is so, my beast…” he purrs, still for but a moment until he pounces, your back against the closest wall, your wrists pinned beneath his hands. “You might think yourself only in my employ, but you require me for your survival...more than ever.” The way his voice drops brings your heart to a halt for a split second as fear shoots through you like lightning.

Does he know?

Pressing closer against you, he sighs, hair hanging in his face as he looms above you. “I don’t know what my father plans, but I am certain that after your stunt at the hospital he will stop at nothing to have you. This is the most I’ve ever denied him from taking what does not belong to him.” He pauses for a moment, creeping closer still. You are chest to chest now, bodies breathing in tandem in the quiet of the hallway.

“But whatever it is, you should fear it. I know little of my father aside from pain and apathy, and that he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. I’m also sure you don’t need me to tell you that Elidibus’ extended stay is also room for suspicion either.” His voice vibrates through your entire, physical being, his lips seeming just a hair’s breadth too close, and yet malms away at once. You can smell his scent up this close, something musky, something wild.

“Then what do you suppose I should do?” You ask, noticing how his gaze drops to your lips so fast that if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

As he smirks from this close, you realize how handsome he is. How much of him you do admire, from his brilliant teeth, to his pouty lips. His frigid, blue eyes that could spark like a blue flame under his ire. His skin, perfect like porcelain, smooth and unmarred in the moonlight, his hair shining like golden thread.

His hands that leave your wrists to steady themselves at your hips.

“Haven’t I told you before?” he asks, fingers flexing on the flesh of your hips, hinting at a different kind of strength.

“Remind me.” You whisper, searching his gaze for something. Anything.

He huffs out a chuckle, pulling you closer still.

“Be mine.”

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Final Fantasy XIV #THP

[jenovahh]

KYKM - 14 Months, 20 Days

There’s a knock on the door.

“You may enter.”

The door opens slowly, a peek of rolanberry blonde hair popping from behind it. “I-I’m here,”

“I know why you are here.” Zenos murmurs, nodding for the young girl to close the door behind her. She does so quietly, mindful of the sleeping warrior tucked in his lap. 

“Has she awoken?” she asks, gently moving to stand before the bed. He shakes his head slightly. “They have not stirred.”

The girl visibly frowns, able to outwardly express the inner turmoil he had spent the past day or so feeling. Her eyes sweep across the Warrior again, before hesitantly meeting his own. “May I,”

“You may do whatever you need to save them.” He whispers, unable to make his voice soft and non-threatening. Ryne nods, eyes focused as she nears the bed, reaching her hands out with a gentle glow. He watches as her eyes slide closed, face pinched together in concentration. “Their aether...it’s still only barely contained.” Her already quiet voice is even softer now, the pain and concern evident in her tone. “I worry,”

“Do not worry, girl.” Ryne’s eyes snap open at his interruption, meeting his steady gaze. “The Warrior has fought gods. Once they wake, we will find my honored grandfather, and make sure he pays for his meddling.” Something in the girl’s face says she can see through his ruse; that she can see past the wall he had spent so long building up.

“You’re afraid too, aren’t you?”

He merely glares at the girl, unable to growl or snarl to scare her off, not without running the risk of rousing you from your sleep. “It would seem I cannot escape presumptuous fools no matter what world I’m on.” he grumbles more to himself, than for Ryne’s ears.

“It’s okay to be afraid.” Ryne tries, her hands clasped together nervously. “I mean just...what I meant to say,”

“Say what you mean, girl.” He sighs, tiring over her stuttering. “That man, Thancred was it, he is your guardian, is he not?” He questions, looking deep into her eyes. She nods slowly, fiddling with the bottom of her dress, staring down at the floor. “I suspect you wish he did not treat you like a child. How do you expect him to see you as you wish, when you cannot voice your own thoughts?”

Her mouth closes at that, any protests she had dying in her throat. Already he could feel your admonishment, for speaking to harshly to one so young. He chuckles to himself at that, his arms closing a little tighter around you. “Simply mean what you say, and say what you mean. Now, out with it.”

Pursing her lips together, Ryne clenches her fists and looks him dead in the eye. “It’s okay that you’re afraid. It just shows that you care for the Warrior of Light. And even if no one else can see that you care, I do.”

He stares at the girl long and hard for a few moments, holding back the urge to laugh in her face for her boldness. “Only your ignorance of my nature keeps me from killing you where you stand, girl.” He grins deviously, watching as she tenses before him. “But, it is also why I currently have more respect for you, than any of the other Scions.” Looking down at your peaceful face, he carefully brushes a hair to the side. “You have already done more for the Warrior in the days I have known you than in the months I have known of the Scions existence.”

Ryne shifts uncomfortably, clearly unsure whether to take the compliment while acknowledging his scathing words about her friends. “As I have told you before, I am not a kind man. Your friends, especially the rogue, see me as a monster. Their apprehension towards me is not without reason. I have more blood on my hands than you will ever see in your lifetime.” He didn’t like not having her fear him. Only you should have that privilege.

“Even a monster, can be kind.” Ryne murmurs softly, her eyes sparkling with that wisdom he had seen once before. She pointedly looks at you cradled in his lap, the gentleness with which he holds you. “Maybe you aren’t as bad as you think,”

“Get out.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, leaving Ryne to scurry out the door as fast as she can.

Sighing, he allows his eyelids to slide shut, taking a calming breath. Much like the rest of your friends, he could not kill the girl for her insolence, but some part of him also disliked the idea. How could someone as young as she, see right into his steeled heart, see his feelings as if they were as bright as the sky outside? Truly he had gotten soft if he could even dislike the idea of killing her, despite her ignorant ways.

If anything, he is at least thankful she is discreet. She seems to be content to keep their interactions “their little secret”, and he is not willing to expend further energy to threaten her. No one needed to know of his...feelings toward you. He’d be the laughingstock of the entirety of Garlemald if word ever got out. Travelling with enemies, speaking with children, tending to his...friend.

The only thing that soothes barely restrained rage is that you have slumbered peacefully ever since the group returned to the Crystarium. He had scared the concerned masses away with angry glares as he followed Ryne’s lead to your rooms, where the girl silently got your aether under control. The Scions had voiced their concerns over him being left alone with you, but one cold look was enough to have them rethink if that was a battle they wanted to fight.

And thus, here you were, snuggled up against him. Or rather, perhaps he was holding you as he sorted through his emotions.

He had not slept since your return, his own stamina notwithstanding. Nay, it was his own thoughts that plagued him, these newfound fears that toyed with his mind. Before his death he would’ve merely been angry that anyone that was not he had tried to kill you; but now, things aren’t so simple.

Zenos was in a way, immortal. Even if he did not always return to his exact body, through the Resonant his soul would return to the world of the living. As far as he knew, you did not possess such an ability. He had seen before that you were not one with your gift, as much as it empowered you. You could not control eikons and primals at will, could not look beyond the memories of others and enter their dreams. If you were to fall in battle...would you return to this world?

The thought shakes him incredibly, of a world without his beast. Would there ever be one as strong as you in his lifetime? In his series of lifetimes? Was he truly bound to this mortal realm, never able to taste the exhilaration of being so close to death now that he could no longer die?

Grimacing, his head thuds against the wall as he leans back, idly wondering if it was possible to experiment on how to release himself from this mortal coil. What world was there without you in it? How could he live on without his enemy, his friend, his lov--

“No.”

He doesn’t mean to say the word aloud, but he does. He can already see the smug grin on Scaeva’s face, unable to deny his own feelings without effort. You had changed him, to the point where he could not even imagine a world where you did not exist.

Was it a change for the better, or the worse?

Thoughts for another time perhaps. For now, he will merely enjoy the feeling of having you arms after going without it for so long. A man was allowed his vices, and the warmth of your body held against his own did wonders for his soul.

Whatever his grandfather had planned, he would most certainly put a stop to it. Your life belonged to him and no one else.

And maybe, he realizes quietly, his belongs to yours.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Shadowbringers #kykm

[jenovahh]

KYKM - 14 Months, 22 Days

When you wake, it is in the dead of what should be night; for the majority of the Scions and the city itself is asleep.

He has remained steadfast is in his vigil over you, only allowing Ryne into the room to stabilize your turbulent aether and to his surprise, bring him food. He had not paid much mind to his hunger until the smell of food had come wafting in, Ryne’s eyes full of concern. He wonders just what is so different about this girl that she does not fear him in the slightest. Hinting at his crimes, his nature, seems to do nothing from dissuading her curiosity about him.

As long as she continues to perform her role in healing you, it matters little. Three days have passed since your battle with Vauthry, and he cannot deny that his concern grows with each passing minute. He wonders if your body is healing itself, or if your condition is deteriorating.

To his relief you wake up, blinking sleepily as you try to stretch your limbs before realizing you are trapped in his embrace. Your body tenses at first, eyes searching for a threat before they land on his face, relief washing over your features. “It’s you.” You say softly, muscles relaxing in his hold.

“That it is.” He responds, his own body relaxing as well, seeing you awake at last. You seem to be doing fine so far, resting your head against his shoulder comfortably.

“How long was I out?” You ask, snuggling closer to him. His heart leaps at the  action, making him grunt as he quickly tries to stamp the feeling down before you can notice. “You have been unconscious for three days.” He finally answers.

You jolt up at that, seemingly about to leave his arms but he holds you tight. “Let me go, why are you,”

He only holds you tighter, an unexplainable feeling in his chest. “You are still weak.” He lies, not quite ready to let go of you yet. You pause to look at him momentarily before finally settling back down, meeting his gaze head on. “What...happened? Was it all a dream?” you whisper under your breath, shifting your legs around to where they fell on either side of his hips, letting you sit comfortably between his crossed legs.

“No. ‘Twas no dream Warrior. It was all very real.” His voice carries that gentleness he had struggled to bring forth in dealing with the girl, his voice soft as he watches a despondent look enter your eyes. Looking back toward the shuttered window, he can see you frown. “Is it...am I,”

“Yes.” He answers, already knowing what you were going to ask. “Shortly after my grandfather had spirited the Exarch away, you had fallen unconscious. I had brought you back to the Crystarium where you have been tended to by Ryne. She has been stabilizing your aether while your body has rested.”

You turn back to him with a sad expression, making the need for vengeance on his grandfather rise exponentially. “So I really am...a Lightwarden.” Your eyes seemingly catch something else in the room, his eyes turning to find nothing of note in the direction you’re staring in. His brows furrow in confusion, but he does not comment.

“Zenos.”

He wishes circumstances were not so dire, for the sound of his name on your lips does something awful to his heart. He turns to face you, staring into your dejected eyes. “I want you to return to the Source. If you can.”

He scoffs at that, leaning back against the wall the bed was pushed against. “You think I would leave you to die here? To watch you become the terrible monster that you fear? To save me?” His voice grows angrier with each question, his hands moving to grip your arms tightly.

“You can still live,”

“Did I not tell you I had come to this world for you? I have traveled across time and space, only for you to want to return to that wretched land, in some needless self sacrifice,”

“It is not needless,” You try to interrupt, voice thick with emotion.

He snags your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him as your lip quivers. “What of your Scions? Am I to understand they are unable to return to our home world? After all, they have remained here all this time have they not? How flattering, that you are willing to send me away and leave your friends to die.”

“I’d send them back if I could!” You nearly shout, your voice hoarse with misery.  “I just...I don’t want you to die,”

He barks out a laugh at that, holding you tighter as you try to free yourself from his grip. Your free hand tries to pry his hand from your wrist to no avail. “I think we both know I have no qualms about dying, hero.” His voice is low, bristling like an angry cat as he stares into your hurt eyes. How did he make you understand? 

Could he not put aside his pride, just this once?

“Do not think to be rid of me, when I cannot be rid of you.” He growls, letting his feelings flow.

“Rid of me?” You snarl, immediately on the defensive, renewing your efforts to break out of his hold.

“Yes, Warrior. You’re like a disease. Crawling under my skin, plaguing my heart with sickness. Changing the very fiber of my being until I am unrecognizable to even myself.” His tone is resentful, and in some parts he is; he did not find you so that you could change him. He wanted to duel. He wanted to fight. You denied him his wishes, leaving him little choice but to follow you around.

A fatal mistake.

“You denied me my one wish, while granting favors to thousands of others, all while I watched. Fetching children and killing vermin, and still you saw me unfit to give me my duel.”

“I didn’t know it was you!” You yell, baring your teeth. “Maybe if you hadn’t lied, I could have,”

“Don’t say that things would have been the same.” He cuts you off, jerking you toward him. “Would you have allowed me to follow you across your savage lands? Allowed me to watch you as you slept in this body?” You struggle to form a response, so he presses on. “Would you have let me hold you against me?” Your eyes widen, face flushing red. “Would you have run away, to have me come save you?” His voice grows softer as your eyes begin to glisten, your resistance coming to a stop. “Would you have let me enter your dreams to ease your fears? Break bread with you on the coldest of nights?” He releases your other wrist, both hands cradling your face firmly.

“Would you have ruined me, a cold hearted monster? Would you have put these awful feelings inside me? Make me cross worlds not for my duel, but for you?” 

Your lip trembles, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, but he catches them before they can even fall. “Zenos, I,”

“Answer me.” He demands, not letting you look anywhere but him.

You swallow, throat bobbing at the action, taking a deep breath. “You really came for me?” Your voice is raw, strained from your efforts to not cry. 

“Have I not told you enough times already?” He sighs, exasperated as he brings you closer to him, your faces ilms apart. “How many times must I repeat myself? When will you take responsibility for this pain I feel within?”

Sniffling, you choke out your next words. “I didn’t...I didn’t know that I was hurting you,”

“You have no one but yourself to blame, hero. You have cursed me.” He hisses, eyes jumping down to your lips for a brief moment. “Fix me.” he begs, searching your eyes.

“Zenos,”

You fall into him with ease, your lips meeting in a rush, your arms thrown around his neck in little time. You shift to straddle his lap, hands shifting to rest on his chest as his own move to settle at your waist. Your tongues dance together; there is no lust in this kiss. Only deep longing, apologies, affection so strong he cannot tell where his own feelings end and yours begin. He wants to hate you. Wants to be filled with nothing more than that all consuming fixation of tracking you down, ready to thrust his sword through your chest, drink the blood from your veins. Caring not for anyone but himself and his duel.

You have ruined him, beyond repair.

The taste of you makes him groan in your mouth, your closeness making him hunger for more. But not now. Not when you need saving.

You eventually part for air, his teeth giving one last bite to your bottom lip as you pull away, your eyes a torrent of so many emotions he can’t pick out a single one. His hands force you closer to him, smirking at your small gasp as you nearly fall into him again, steadying yourself with your hands on his chest. “I will make sure you are never rid of me Warrior. Even when you finally see fit to give me the duel I crave so dearly.” His voice is ragged and to his surprise, having an effect on you. “I have already followed you across lifetimes. You will be hard pressed to send me away.” He gives you a possessive squeeze, recommitting the feel of you to memory. “Let me wound you as you have done to me. Fester in your heart until the damage is irreversible.”

Your hands fly to your face to furiously wipe at tears before they can fall, but your chest already shudders with a choked sob. “Thank you.” The words are barely audible, but he catches them nonetheless. “Dry your tears.” As harsh as the words themselves sound, there’s no bite to them, his hand reaching to help clear the tracks of your tears. “We will follow my grandfather to where he’s stowed himself away so that we can ease your fears.” The way you lean into his touch makes his heart feel on fire, the adoration in your eyes as you look at him stills his breath. Your lips, your touch, your--

He’s in love.

“Foolish hero.”

He brings you in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of your lips against his own. You press yourself against him again, his hands find their way into your hair. “Zenos,”

A strange weight feels lifted from his shoulders, a sighing breath leaving him as he drowns in your kiss. How terrible, that it had come to this. How far he had fallen. If only he could have stopped himself before it was too late.

When you bite his lip, he pinches you in reprimand, his eyes half lidded as he takes you in. The very sight of you makes his heart swell, causing him to inwardly chuckle as he swears it hurts. As if the muscle had gone unused for so long and was only now being put back to work. “Your life belongs to me, Warrior of Light.” He murmurs, the conviction in his voice sending a shiver through you. 

Perhaps, when all this was over, he could belong to you too.

#zenos #zenos yae galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Shadowbringers #kykm