#but he'll be damned if he isn't proud of his dragon-child regardless

[a-world-in-grey]

Sola/Blood of My Blood - Coming of Age V

@secret-engima finally got this polished up. Half from Sola's POV and half from Bahamut's!

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Sola freezes.

The Storm Father is here. Why is the Storm Father here and how in Ifrit's Pyre has no one noticed the Astral just sitting there for who knows how many hours-

No one's looking at him. Black suit and golden yellow shirt, thunderstorms and coeurls masterfully embroidered in blue and purple and gold and copper, and no one is looking at him? Even though the eye-catching riot of colors against black should grab everyone's attention if not the blatant violation of protocol that is wearing black in the first place. But no. No one who glances in that direction seems to register the man, the man whose long white beard is braided with the elaborate braids Sola's only ever seen depicted in Galahdian art, braids that should have every Galahdian present staring.

The Astrals are supposed to be sleeping. Why is Ramuh here?

Magic curls around her, an echo of sun-fire-fury underneath the we've-got-you-you're-safe-our-cub-is-safe-  "Treasure?" Libertus asks.

Sola blinks. She's sitting on one of the benches lining the walls, water glass in hand, well away from the rest of the crowd. Libertus is next to her, arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side, wrapping magic around her in an effort to soothe the way her own is bristling under her skin, shocked and wary and hissing like a territorial coeurl.

Axis and Tredd are standing, blocking Sola from view of the rest of the hall from the angles Libertus' bulk doesn't cover. They're scanning the hallway, magic alert and wary of what might have set Sola off. Beyond them, Sola can see Nyx and Luche working the crowd closes to them to keep attention away from Sola.

ola focuses on sipping her way through hers and calm down. "The Elder with the children. See him?" Sola murmurs in Galahdian once she's half-way through the glass and has a grasp on her words once more.

Axis doesn't look away from the crowd, so it's only Libertus and Tredd that freeze, magic spiking in shock and recognition.

So she isn't hallucinating. Sola isn't sure she should be glad or not.

She stares at her empty glass and wishes she could get drunk right now. "Do we want to know why one of the Six is here?" It can't be for the Galahdians. Ramuh can't walk among them anymore, he's an Exile. Further proved by the fact Ramuh's in Lucian attire. Oh, the embroidery and the colors and the braids are as Galahdian as they come, but that's a Lucian-style suit. Unlike Sola and her Retinue, who are dressed in Galahdian formalwear but conforming to Lucian protocol.

(The dissonance is not helping Sola wrap her head around what she's seeing.)

"Two." Axis says abruptly. "The Tide-mother's dancing with His Highness." Sola's neck cracks as she whips her attention back to the ballroom floor, and to the woman dressed in water-silk dyed in the blues and greys of an ocean storm, pearls shining from her elaborately braided hair.

Humans don't move like that.

Dread prickles down her spine. The Storm Father, Sola can see gate-crashing her brother's party on a whim. Leviathan? The Tide-mother doesn't like humans.

Yet here she is, and no one's screaming.

A graceful spin, Noctis' wide-eyed expression visible for a brief second, and Sola follows his gaze towards one of the tables.

There's a man, dark skinned with golden tattoos curling over his bald head. Dark grey suit with summer green shirt and wheat-gold tie. Nearby, another man in a black suit, black hair cut at his chin and eyes visibly silver even at this distance and the unmistakable bearing of a soldier. No decorations on him, but in the moment before Sola blinks, she swears she can see silver armor and bladed wings.

Titan. Bahamut. That's four, so where are-

A flash of white-blue silk, and Sola finds her gaze back on the dance floor. To the woman in a dress that sparkls like sunlight on ice, and her partner in a suit that shifts like flickering flames, the dark-skinned man sporting hair as red as fire.

Ifrit and Shiva make six. A chill slips down her spine. The Astrals are awake, and all of them are here.

This is important.

Sola doesn't need her magic to know Noctis is probably six seconds from a panic attack. Pyre-curse it all, he was doing so well. Noctis does not need this on top of all the other shit he's dealing with.

She grits her teeth against her anger. "Axis, have Nyx get Prompto to Noctis. You and Luche help Gladio and Ignis enforce some space. Extract if necessary - it's late enough a strategic retreat won't raise eyebrows."

Axis disappears from her side, ghosting through the crowd to where Nyx and Luche are. Tredd grins at Sola, his magic sharp with anticipation. "What about us, Spitfire?"

Sola's smile is distinctly unfriendly. "We're getting some answers."

Libertus warily eyes Sola's target. "Sola, love, are you sure?"

"Yes." She can understand the hesitation. Ramuh, at least, is disinclined to smite one of his children. But she can't ask Ramuh -he's an Exile- Galahd's patron or not.

Bahamut is the Lucis Caelums' patron and the Astral supposedly in charge. Sola wants to know what the fuck is going on, and so help her she's getting her answers however she has to.

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He knows the humans' approach before they near him. They cannot sneak up on him - not that they try - not when he can feel the touch of his Blessing upon every soul in the city. Especially not the soul more akin to his own than her mortal kin.

"Ardent." He greets when she reaches him.

Blue eyes burn with the magic that cannot escape her skin. Just as they once burned in that other time, when she'd stepped between his judgement and the oathbreakers and regarded him not as patron but as threat.

"Bladekeeper." The old Galahdian title falls from lips curled to show a flash of fang. A warning. A challenge, as she demands, "What brings the Six to these halls, instead of the Oracle or your Messengers?"

Bahamut is proud of this fierce dragon-child of his, even as he regards her with a calm expression. He is proud of her mate, the pillar of support in this timeline and the last, and of her Sword, the ever dutiful son of Ramuh.

(He may not approve of her choice of Shield, Heart, and Hand, but Bahamut knows better than to pass judgement on those the Ardent has Claimed. Dragons do no tolerate threats to Them and Theirs, not even from other dragons. The Ardent would not hesitate to cross steel with him, to attempt to slay him should she deem him too great a threat to those she shelters under her wings.)

"We are here to witness the coming of age of the Chosen King." Bahamut tells her. The Ardent does not know the truth of the prophecy. The Father has kept it from her, fearing her reaction. Rightfully so - in his mind, Bahamut sees endless futures where the Ardent learns of the truth. Futures where she takes the Chosen's place, futures where she cannot and strives to shatter the duty the Chosen is bound to.

In all but a few, the Star is lost to Darkness as the Ardent succumbs to Fire and Fury.

But all fires need fuel to feed the flames. Without her King, the Ardent will burn out, a mere ember of herself.

At the mention of her King, the Ardent bristles. "And this couldn't be done with the courtesy of forewarning your presence?"

Bahamut snorts. As if the Ardent is truly concerned with propriety. No, she is displeased of the shock they have done to her King. "Your King is not so fragile. He has prevailed through greater trials than this." Trials greater than the Ardent will ever know.

The Ardent smiles, a full baring of fangs and the implicit threat of using them. "That does not mean my King needs to face another."

"There will always be another trial." He tells her gravely. Such is the nature of his Blessing. Such is the nature of his Blessed, they will always fight, for his Blessing is Light and War. "Not all Wars are fought on the battlefield with claw and fang. There is more to the Chosen King's Sword than your Glaive."

The Ardent hesitates, magic churning with uncertainty. She glances towards where her King is retreating with his bonded Retinue, and in the moment of her distraction, Bahamut and his kin vanish from the room.

#ffxv #Shadow of Heaven's Light #fusion #Blood of My Blood verse #Sola Lucis Caelum #Bahamut #Libertus Ostium #Axis Arra #Tredd Furia #Leviathan #Ramuh #Ifrit #Shiva #Titan #Bahamut may not approve of some of Sola's actions #he is the astral of prophecy after all #but he'll be damned if he isn't proud of his dragon-child regardless