Chapter Text
There were some nights that were worse than others. Insomnia plagued him, and the ring felt heavier on his finger. Regis knew better than to stay in his bed, for that led to naught but restlessness and pressure on his already aching back. So he would leave his chambers and sought refuge by the foot of the Crystal.
The irony of trying to draw strength from the artifact that doomed his ancestors to early deaths was not lost on him. Regis’s fate would be no different; if the war with Niflheim did not kill him first, then the strain the wall placed on his body would eventually claim him. He had long accepted the duties that came with his birthright, and would be content to know that his rule would at least be a peaceful one.
But Noctis? His sweet, beloved son? It pained his heart to think about what the Astrals had in store of him. He still cannot believe the sheer gall the universe had to ask his boy to give up his life to fulfill some ancient prophecy from two thousand years ago. It made him sick to think about it, but he had no power to change this future. He was a king, but he was still just a man.
Thus, he did what men typically do when faced with an undesirable fate. He prostrated himself in front of the Crystal, and begged. He begged for the life of his son. He begged for the safety of his kingdom. He begged until his body shook with sobs and tears ran down his cheeks. He begged until his eyes grew heavy in exhaustion and his head throbbed in pain.
Regis sat down and closed his eyes to let slumber overtake him. He knew would not get an answer. He did not get one the last time he knelt before the Crystal, nor did he get one the time before. The Crystal had no will of its own. It cannot give him the help he so desperately needed.
Or so he thought.
A hand brushing against his shoulder jolted him awake. His eyes shot open to focus on the strange looking woman before him. Regis took one look at the blades at her waist before summoning the armiger and aiming the Power of Kings at the intruder. “Identify yourself at once.” He commanded.
Typically, being threatened by the power of the old kings was enough to make people think very carefully about their next move lest they find themselves beheaded. This woman, Regis noted irritably, is an exception to the rule. If anything, she chuckled at his threat. “You ask that I identify myself, when you were the one who summoned me here in your chocobo robes and moogle slippers? You have a lot of nerve.” The woman glanced at the aforementioned garments with amusement. “Still, I’ll answer before you decide to take my head off. My name is Aveis Knight. People call me the Warrior of Light. Aveis is fine, though.”
The king remembered the old tales, stories of a champion who traveled the world and helped whoever needed their aid. It was a famous Lucian tale that grew across the ages, and just as Regis heard it from his father as a child, he regaled it to Noctis with equal passion.
But this was reality, not a fairytale. The spectral blades loomed closer, and Aveis did not move save for a raise of an eyebrow. Regis let out a mocking laugh, unable to help himself in the face of such an introduction. “You cannot truly think I’d believe what you said.”
She took a few steps closer, with the swords shifting until the blades laid flat against her throat. And yet, Aveis still seemed entertained. “Belief does not change the truth, dear king,” She countered. “And if you would not believe me, then believe your Crystal. Do you think it would have brought me if I did not have the power to answer your prayers? To save your son from his fate?”
“Noctis’s destiny is preordained by the gods.” He said, though it was unclear if the words were for her benefit or his. “No mere mortal can defy their will.”
Something flashed in her eyes, something equally fascinating and terrifying that made lightning strike across his spine. This time when she smiled, Regis knew it was genuine. “Then it is a good thing I am no mere mortal.”
Regis looked at her. The plate armor and leather trousers she wore were definitely not cheaply made, pieced together in a way that allows for easy movement while giving protection as well. Chainmail covered her shoulders and extended past her elbows, to where leather bracers covered her forearms. On her feet were some type of divided toe shoes with rubber soles. Regis frankly has never seen anything like that before, but it seemed to work with everything else. His eyes then moved to the dangerous looking daggers attached to her waist, gleaming and sharp on a level that he knew even Ignis would be jealous of.
She looked like a warrior from the old tales. And with gear like that, Regis could imagine she was a force to be reckoned with. She had to be, if the Crystal chose her. This, in turn, had to be enough for him.
“As as crazy as you sound, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Regis said while dismissing the armiger. He leaned back against the Crystal, hoping the slight pain from its edges would distract him from the weariness he felt. It was nights like this when he felt eighty instead of fifty.
Doubt still plagued him, as he was entrusting the fate of the world into the hands of a stranger. Then the king asked himself: What other choice did he have? He would lose his kingdom, his life, his son. He had nothing else to lose, but everything to gain. If there was a chance, as small as it may be, for Noctis to live, then Regis would take it. He would not be placing his trust in Aveis, per se, but the Crystal itself.
He examined this woman--this champion--and spoke once more. “If you are who you say you are, then what I would ask of you not only concerns my son, but the future of the world. It is only fair you know about the prophecy before you make a decision.”
The relaxed stance she had was gone almost instantaneously. Prophecies were complicated enough even when obeying them. Defying them, while not impossible like most believe, can be an absolute nightmare, especially when there is a strong possibility of making everything worse without sufficient planning and consideration. It was crucial that Aveis got all the important details before proceeding. “Go on.” She urged, arms crossed and attentive.
Regis held his hand aloft so she could see the band on his finger. “This Crystal and this ring was given to our Founder King by Bahamut. For nearly two thousand years, they have been passed on from generation to generation to be safeguarded until the Chosen King comes into the world. Then, with the Light of Providence, he shall purge our star from darkness.”
“Your son is the Chosen King.” Aveis surmised.
“And how I wish it weren’t so.” Regis sighed, taking a deep breath to calm himself. His voice faltered when he continued to speak, but thankfully she did not acknowledge it. “Noctis was five years old when the Oracle informed me. It is my responsibility, both as a king and as his father, to guide him alongside his path and ensure he is ready to ascend. Yet a selfish part of me wishes this burden befell anyone else but him. Even if it was me.”
Aveis’s heart broke for him. She was not a parent, but she empathized with him. Being cursed with knowing when and how your loved one will die can drive anyone into insanity. Stars only know how long this fear plagued this poor man. “It is not selfish for a father to want to spare his child from pain and suffering.” She said, her voice softened by emotion. “Your gods should not have demanded this of you.”
Regis gave a bitter laugh.“The gods don’t care for my plights.”
“They don’t, but I do.” Aveis said. There was a pause before she spoke again. “I said I am the Warrior of Light, but the nature of my duties is more complex that it seems. It is my duty to ensure both light and darkness stays in balance, and to act when one threatens to overpower the other.” When Aveis saw the questioning look on the king’s face, she sank to her knees and placed a placating hand on his shoulder. “It is a difficult life I lead, but I chose this. I am willing to give up my life if it means the ones I love remain safe. But it is another thing entirely to be forced into sacrificing yourself. Your son does not deserve this, and I will see to it this does not come to pass.”
His hand gripped hers, as if he expected her to fade away before her eyes like a dream. The disbelief was palpable even to his own ears. “You would? You would fight to the bitter end for a boy you don’t know?”
“It isn’t right.” She rehashed, as if that was all the reasoning one needs to try to defy fate. “He deserves better. You deserve better, too.”
No more words were exchanged after that. The chamber was silent save for the cries of a tired king, and the assuring whispers of a misplaced warrior. They were two strangers, unalike in more ways than one, but they came to an understanding. And with this understanding, began a slightly different tale than what the stars have written.